#just shoot the show like a sane person

[ouchiewawa]

If they ever do make a Janeway show, please know that I do not need them to bend the entire star trek universe just to recreate scenes I could go back and watch on dvd.

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[lalunanymph]

𝟏𝟏:𝟒𝟗𝐏𝐌 ─── your husband notices everything about you—even the things you don't notice about yourself

˚୨୧⋆ sylus x wife!reader

˚୨୧⋆ warnings: wife!reader, reader has just given birth a few months ago, jealous sylus!!, pregnancy, implied mentions of a fight, injuries, mentions of b/lood, explicit s/mut, implication of o/ral, teasing, petnames (wife, darling, doll, sweetie), daddy k/ink, breeding, shamelessly self-indulgent AND very selfship-coded :')

Nothing ever escapes Sylus’ attention. 

Other than cunning resourcefulness being his trademark which many associate with ravens—his favorite bird—another marker of your husband’s personality is that like a hawk, he’s acutely aware of everything.

Tonight’s date night after you’ve given birth to the twins didn’t go exactly as planned.

While Sylus was in a convenience store, buying the both of you drinks to whet off the balminess of the summer evening, you were approached by an obviously drunk man who asked if you were here alone.

After countless times of trying (and failing) to convince him that your husband wouldn’t be too happy about his unwanted advances, the man in question whose ring is around your finger appears, tall and imposing.

Safe to say, the night ended with one bloody nose, and a pair of split knuckles, the latter being the ones you were currently patching up. 

Your husband is reclining back against the plush pillows, black dress shirt unbuttoned slightly and showing off the deep divot of his pecs. His face is a mixture of emotions—anger, frustration, possessiveness, a hint of concern. All coalescing into one tense ball he keeps close to his chest as the adrenaline from the encounter with that sleazebag still hums through his veins. 

You stow your phone back into your purse, sighing.

“I've texted Sara to keep the twins for the night. I think we're both too angry and might say or do something rash.” 

His expression softens and he lets out a sigh, the anger and tension slowly starting to ebb away as he gazes at you.

“... that’s good. I wouldn’t want them to see me in this state.” 

You sigh again, picking up his bandaged hands.

“Y’know, I did tell him my husband was a big, scary man, but he still persisted in demanding a date,” you bring your husband’s knuckles to your lips, kissing the contused flesh softly. 

Sylus grunts, rolling his eyes, though his expression softens at your sweet gesture. “Some people just don’t know when to take a hint… so, I had to make a point.”

You scoff, clutching his hands tighter. “Yes. By socking him in the face. Very classy.”

Instead of appearing reticent like a sane person would, Sylus chuckles. “Didn’t see you complaining when you were cooing all over me, patching up like a good, little wife.”

His words make a flash of heat run through you, and you shoot him an exasperated glare. “Well, at least you looked sexy doing it. Punching that asshole in the face. Consider that compensation for tonight’s turn of events," politely, you add, “Thank you for defending my honor, darling.”

He lets out a low chuckle, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. Crimson eyes darken with a mixture of desire and affection, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. 

“No need to thank me, sweetie. It’s always a pleasure of mine to defend your honor. No one gets to disrespect you without facing repercussions.” 

You squirm in his lap, hitching a breath when you feel his hands play with the straps of your dress. Slowly, he drags them down, touch hot and insistent as the pads of his fingers graze your bare shoulder.

“Really, Sylus?” You try to look vexed, but the breathlessness his touch incites only fuels him to misbehave further. “Defending me has seriously gotten you all hot and bothered?” 

Your husband grins at your teasing tone, a wicked gleam in his eye as he continues to push the straps of your dress down further, baring more of your skin to his heated stare. His hands continue to explore, tracing over your exposed skin. 

“Hmm. I suppose seeing you in danger… really ignited something in me. Hearing someone insult you and disrespect what’s mine… makes me want to claim you all over again.”

Warmth fills your cheeks, and you fail to fight back a shiver. “T-that doesn’t make any sense.” 

Sylus’ fingers are now trailing your collarbone, tracing the marks he left there from the night before.

“It doesn’t need to make sense, doll. It’s something primal. Seeing you in danger like that… and the look on your face when I punched that idiot senseless… It's titillating. I just want to claim my wife, remind you and everyone else that you belong to me, body and soul and future baby.” 

Heat licks down your spine, and you shudder at his words. 

“F-future baby?” 

Sylus’ hands snake to your bare back, caressing the expanse of skin with soft, ticklish circles. Without warning, he leans in, lips hovering close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Yes, doll. Future baby. I'm going to fill you with my seed. Breed you over and over until I'm sure you're pregnant. And in a few weeks, we'll have a mini-us growing in your belly, a physical reminder of my claim on you."

His words are soft and sound almost sweet, but the filthiness in them makes you gasp, involuntarily arching your body into his. 

“Sylus…”

The idea of him claiming you again so boldly after defending you from danger turns you on like nothing in this world can. You know you have much to discuss with him about having another baby, considering you had just given birth to Sabrina and Protus a few months ago. But, in this instance, desire overtakes logic and all you want is to feel your husband deep inside you again. 

His lips are cool when they touch your jugular, trailing down the column of your neck until they reach your heaving chest. 

“Sy…” you whisper, eyes fluttering close. “Stop… teasing me.” 

You want this, he realizes with a jolt. You want this as much as he does. 

He lets out a low chuckle, hands continuing to caress every inch of your skin. 

“Oh, my pretty little doll. It’s not teasing anymore. It’s a promise.” His lips touch your ear, the heat of his breath and words snapping the last of your resolve. “And you know I never break my promises, doll.” 

A whimper slips from your parted mouth. The heat in this room is too much to bear, pressing down on you with the weight of an ocean closing in.

You can barely breathe when you exhale, “Breed me. Please… breed me.” 

Your bastard of a husband grins at your desperate plea, his hands gripping your hips tighter. It’s the predatory confidence of a man who knows he has you completely at his mercy, begging for him to claim you completely. 

“Say it again,” his fingers dance to the hair at the nape of your neck, sinking his fingers into your soft locks and using it to snap your face up to meet his darkened gaze. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want to only belong to me.” 

The bite of pain pulls a wanton moan from your trembling lips, and you lose all bearings and composure, giving in to the desire which always leaves you wanting more of him on your knees.

“Oh god... please... breed me, Daddy. Make me yours. P-put a baby inside of me and make me a mama again…” 

Sylus’ eyes darken at your plea, the possessive need flaring in his chest. Those blood-red eyes burn with the desire of keeping and making his promise come true.

“Lay back, sweetie. Go on—there’s a good girl.” His bigger body hovers over you, pressing you into the bed. “Good girl. You're such a good girl, doll. Asking Daddy to breed you, begging to be filled with my seed, to carry my baby. You're mine. Mine to breed, mine to claim. Mine to make you a mommy again."

His words whip through you like an electric shock. You gasp, eyes fluttering and body arching further into his touch. 

“Please… yes…” 

As much as his self-control is reaching its breaking point, he needs to hear the words coming straight from your mouth; his grip on your hips tighten, eyes darkening with possessiveness. 

"You want this, doll? You want Daddy to fill you up—make sure you're pregnant with my baby?"

Your nod is equal parts desperation and desire. You lick your lips, nodding.

“Yes,” your whisper is like a bullet tearing through his chest, leaving it hot and stinging with pure need. “Yes, I want it so badly.”

Sylus groans, your words igniting the unquenchable thirst inside of him to make you his, his, his. 

Tearing the flimsy dress off your frame, he digs his fingers into your hips, mouth leaving a burning trail of kisses and bites across your neck, your jaw, your chest. 

Your hands grapple at his clothing, pulling off his expensive, tailor-made button-down and slacks, reaching into the heart of him to expose him fully to your lustful gaze. 

He sucks and licks on your nipples until they become all puffy and swollen just for him, and the second you tell him you can’t take it anymore, Sylus stakes his claim by sinking inside of you—inch by delicious inch.

Your pretty, milky pink nails stab into his shoulders, dragging down red lines across the pale expanse of his back. Your heels dig into his hips, and the way you’re desperately clinging onto him, makes him wonder if you want to fuse your body as one with his. 

“Sy… Sylus…” 

Fuck. He digs his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, strong hips snapping forward, giving you one powerful thrust after another. Your walls suck him so perfectly, like you were made for him. 

He fills you up over and over again, until every load becomes more painful. But, you can't get enough. You keen, beg, and cry for more, milking his promise to make you a mama again for what it’s worth.

Hours seem to pass, ravaging passages of time that are marked by more cum filling you; his shuddering, animalistic groans for you take it darling, take it all, take all of me like music to your ears.

Sylus collapses on top of you, breathing hard and red in the face. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his hand coming to rest gently on your stomach, caressing the soft skin with shaky fingers.

“Mhm… you’ll be the death of me one day, you know that, sweetie?” 

Giggling, you use what remains of your strength to twine your arms around his shoulders. The both of you stay like this for a while, slowly coming down from the high.

Briefly, your hand grazes your belly, and you wonder idly if what he promises has come true—if his seed has already taken.

Sylus, ever keen and observing, chuckles. It’s like he knows exactly what you're thinking. Planting a gentle kiss on top of your head, his voice is low and tender.

“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, sweetie. I have a feeling you're already pregnant with my baby."

Your eyes widen, and you give him a shock look. 

Stammering, you say, “How do you know?” 

But, you should know this is Sylus you’re talking about. Mastermind of the N109 Zone. The leader of the most notorious organization alive. 

He’s always two steps ahead of you, seeing what you can’t see, anticipating what you can’t expect. 

Your husband’s palm drifts down to join yours on your stomach, his hand gently resting on yours.

“Call it a lucky guess… or, intuition. A few little signs here and there. Besides, I'm not letting you out of my sight until you confirm it."

His words make your head spin, and you give him a look of reproachful intrigue.

“A… few signs here and there? What are you talking about?” 

Sylus nods, his touch reverent and tender. 

Without caring for your astonishment, he lays down his observations like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your scent has been different, sweeter, a little intoxicating. Your body is more sensitive, more responsive to my touch. And there's a glow about you, a soft flush on your cheeks, a sparkle in your eyes. It's subtle, but I notice when it comes to you, doll.” 

You gape at him, and without thinking, tighten your grip on your belly.

As if he has a sensor on you, Sylus immediately notices the subconscious gesture.

“Mhm... You've been doing that a lot lately, doll. Touching your belly, caressing your stomach, as if you're already feeling the baby growing inside you. It's adorable, but it's also a bit of a giveaway.”

His tone turns teasing and you flush, flustered beyond measure.

“Wh-what are you? Some kind of werewolf?” You hiss, “How're you so attentive?!”

Your husband chuckles again, amusing himself by brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gently tracing your jawline.

“It's not a matter of being a werewolf. It's just a matter of paying attention to the woman I love.” His grin turns soft, becoming tender at the edges. “I notice everything about you, doll. Every little detail, every change in your body, every little thing. I can't help it. I can't stop watching you. And you just happen to have a few tell-tale signs right now that are screaming 'pregnant'.”

Pouting, you glare at him churlishly, deciding to challenge him. But, underneath the pomp and bravado is an innate curiosity to see how far your husband’s perception can go.  

“Tell me more then, since I myself don't seem to notice anything.”  

Sylus grins at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, and decides to indulge you. 

“Hmm, you really want to know? Well, here's another one... Your taste has changed, darling. A little sweeter, a little richer. Something I can't seem to get enough of, but it also seems to have gotten stronger lately.” 

You blanch, warmth flushing your cheeks.

“You mean... whenever you eat me out... you noticed my taste? That's...” 

Your speechlessness amuses him, and he chuckles, voice growing deeper, laced with hunger and heat.

“I notice everything about you, remember? Even the smallest changes in your body,” he drawls, glancing at the spot between your thighs. “Especially when it comes to the places I spend the most time on, tasting and exploring... Every. Single. Time.”

He punctuates his words with soft kisses to your neck, flustering you even more.

All you can mutter is a cute, little, “Hmph,” scowling and fanning your cheeks. 

Sylus adores your reaction to his words, and leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, teasing your skin.

“Mhm... why are you scowling at me? Are you embarrassed? Are you... thinking about all the times I've tasted and explored you, doll? I can practically see the memories playing in your head… it's delicious.”

You squeak, slapping a palm to his mouth, feeling like your face is hot enough to explode.

“Sylus!” 

He laughs, though the sound is muffled against your palm. His hand drifts down to your belly again, the gleam in his eyes possessive this time. 

The white-haired devil pries your hand from his mouth, kissing your wrist and placing it back down onto the bed. “Oh, doll. You're just too cute when you're flustered. And it's even cuter when you try to shut me up. It just makes me want to tease you more, Y/N.” 

Emboldened and somewhat foolish, you plaster on your faux confidence, egging him on. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think you’re dead wrong.” 

Sylus snorts, finding your foolish certainty endearing. 

“Are you doubting my observation skills? Are you saying I haven't noticed a thing? That I'm not paying attention to the little changes in your body… that I haven't noticed how you're reacting?”

You smirk, nodding. 

“Mhm hmm. I know my body better than you, Sy. You may be my husband, but I’ve been living in this meat suit for years. And I’ll know when I’m pregnant. Besides—” you giggle, enjoying the look of faint amusement spreading across his features. “—I bet you a hundred dollars that if I take a test right now, it’ll come back negative.” 

Sylus cocks a brow, eyes glistening with the challenge. 

You continue, oblivious to his smirk. “My period is due in a week, and I don’t have morning sickness, nor do I have any cravings. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we have to plan our family smarter? Why do you want to be right so badly?” 

Your husband chuckles, enjoying your bold confidence. His grip on your hip tightens, and he kneads the flesh, shrugging. 

“You’re so endlessly fascinating, doll. Yes, I do think we should space out conception times, but I never did say I wouldn't want more babies. Especially when they are living proof of our commitment and love for each other.”

Oh. You swallow hard. When he puts it that way…

But, you’re much too thick headed to give in. 

You cup his cheek, gaze softening, though the spark of a challenge remains in your eyes. 

“Fine. We’ll see who’s right tomorrow.” 

Sylus grabs your hand, enjoying the warmth of your skin with a touch of feral amusement in his crimson eyes. “And if I’m right? What is my reward, doll?” 

Grinning, you tease, “A hundred dollars.”

Your husband tilts his head to the side, as if considering your strange wager.

“... make that a hundred kisses and a dinner, doll. I don’t want your money.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. A hundred kisses and a dinner—that’s easy for you. 

“Fine. We’ll see that I’m right tomorrow, then.” 

Night fades and the next day dawns.

You wake up to an empty bed, sheets rumpled and still warm. Your eyes land upon an innocuous pregnancy kit on the side table, fresh from the store.

Sylus is nowhere to be seen, though you suspect he’s downstairs in the kitchen sipping on a cup of coffee. Not wanting to look like you were chickening out of this bet, you huff and go straight into the bathroom, putting the test to use.

You’re going to win this bet, and Sylus will have to eat his words. There is no way your husband would be correct. All he has is a hunch while you know your body inside and out. 

No singular person in the world, not even the one you share a bed with every night, can claim to predict something as mercurial and unpredictable as a pregnancy which hasn’t happened yet—unless they were a prophet or someone from the world of Dune, you think with a scoff.

The timer goes off and you grasp the test, about to smirk and prance downstairs to show Sylus how far off his observation was, when you come to a hard pause.

“...”

You blink, checking the test and rechecking it again. You look at it closer to the light, scrutinizing the stupid white stick from front to back, wondering if it’s faulty or broken.

A languid knock on the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to find your husband leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face.

“Go ahead, doll,” he gloats, noticing your reaction, the pallor of shock written all over your face. “Read the result out loud to me.” 

You swallow hard, setting the test down in defeat.

“Impossible.”

But, knowing how competitive your husband can be, he’s not going down without a fight.

“And the result is…?” 

Tossing him a scowl, you throw your hands up in the air, caving in so he can pipe down and just kiss you already. 

“Positive,” you groan, wrapping your arms around him. Sylus responds without a shred of hesitation, grasping your smaller body and holding it tightly to his, secretly elated at this reveal. The ghost of his chuckle brushes your neck.

“Yeah, doll? Say it again. Tell me I’m right.” 

You exhale a watery giggle, tears filling your eyes. The feeling of pure love fills your chest, and you look at him like he’s hung the moon up in your sky.

You’re going to be a mommy again; Sylus has made his promise come true. 

Touching your forehead to his, you breathe in his comforting scent, feeling the softness of his sleeping robe underneath your palms on his chest.

“You’re right, darling. You’re always right,” you whisper, the love you feel for your husband overflowing from your eyes. “It’s positive.” 

Nothing ever escapes Sylus' hawk-like attention, and for that, you love him a little more than you did before.

sydawn lore: we have twins together—a baby girl and a baby boy named sabrina and protus. initially, the scans and tests only picked up sabrina and it was literally on the surgical table when the doctors made a discovery that there was another whole ass baby inside of me (they called it a shadow pregnancy when one twin completely overshadows another) so long story short, we have two babies together with a third on the way :,) ok thx for reading bye !

— reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated !! thank you all for your support <3

© lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my selfship and reproduce it into your own bodies of work. do not translate and share across on other platforms.

[actual-changeling]

Season One meta posts in 2024? Yes, very much so. We need more of that.

Will this be slightly unhinged? Yeah, probably, so welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner.

Everyone has probably connected the kiss back to the wall-slam scene in Tadfield Manor by now, but while I was re-watching it for the nth time and combing through it frame by frame like a mentally sane person, I realised just how orchestrated it was from beginning to end.

I assume we can agree that Aziraphale called Crowley nice on purpose to get a hint of intimacy out of him, but I think this time it is very different from the other instances during which he reacts with anger to being called nice.

My first main observation is the way Aziraphale positions himself.

We pick up after Crowley's explanation about the non-lethal shooting happening outside, and they are facing each other at an angle, with Aziraphale having stopped a few steps behind him.

Now, until the slam itself, Crowley doesn't move, he remains where he is, waiting. (We'll come back to that in a bit)

However, instead of remaining at a safe distance or standing literally standing anywhere else, he walks a small curve to then stop right in front of Crowley. Not at his side or a little bit away or at a respectable distance—no, right in his face. You can judge his position by looking at the wooden door (?) in the background.

The following camera position makes it hard to see the amount of distance between their faces, but we know that he must be close enough so that Crowley can immediately grab his coat without problem.

Excuse my art skills, but just to make sure everyone is on the same page, have a little drawing showing their positions and movements.

Now, that manoeuvring takes Aziraphale a few seconds, and what does he do? He stalls. Look at what exactly he tells Crowley:

You know, Crowley, I've always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—

There are a lot more words than necessary! He could have shortened that sentence but he didn't, and on top of that, if you listen to him say it, he makes two noticeable pauses, one after 'Crowley with a little look outside, one after 'that'. By then he has reached his final position, so no more stalling, he can try to finish his sentence now.

Alex, you might say now, of course Aziraphale did it on purpose, but Crowley only reacted to what he said.

And to that I respond, nope, he was 100% in on it.

I know because when Aziraphale stops in front of him, he waits. He does not move, he doesn't shut him up even though he has heard the same spiel hundreds of times—no, he is waiting and allowing Aziraphale to initiate their little game.

This face is not the face of someone who is already angry or confused about which words will tumble out of Aziraphale's mouth. He even arches his eyebrow in a motion that I personally interpret as 'go on'.

Crowley is listening and waiting for the signal, and the moment Aziraphale says 'nice', he grabs him and pushes him up against the opposite wall. It's an extraordinarily quick reaction, the kind you have when you know you're about to act and what you'll do.

Some further evidence that the entire moment was orchestrated by the two of them.

Aziraphale stretches out his arms behind him to brace himself against the wall, he was expecting to be moved that way and intentionally put himself into a position that would allow Crowley to do so.

Additionally, by grabbing his lapels the way he does, Crowley can make sure that the back of his head doesn't hit the wall. If you watch the clip by yourself and slow it down, you'll discover that Aziraphale gently rests it against the wall on his own while Crowley is talking.

Aziraphale is completely relaxed not only because he knows Crowley would never hurt him, but also because this entire thing is a game that they willingly participate in. It is dangerously under-negotiated, sure; luckily they more or less agree on the ground rules.

Obligatory close-up with the noise squish because I am a blorbo connoisseur and not a heathen. The little eye gaze at the lips, and if you ask me, and this is my post so you ARE asking me, Crowley is very much looking at Aziraphale's lips from behind his glasses.

But I have one more observation to make!

I could never quite put my finger on why exactly the scene felt off, but now I am convinced it's because despite the act, Crowley isn't actually upset. There ARE times when Aziraphale actively crosses a boundary and endangers him with his compliments, but this is not one of them. The growling, him baring his teeth, the fact that he is pressing their entire bodies together, him leaning in thar far, and also what the FUCK is he saying?

The excerpt from the script books:

First part okay, I can buy that, a bit basic but alright. But 'nice is a four letter word'? Where exactly was he going with that and how was that sentence going to end? It's close enough to the topic to pass as real for any outsider who might overhear them, but if you actually listen and try to comprehend it—yeah, no, he was about to go full gibberish.

The goal wasn't to yell at Aziraphale about calling him nice, it was all about prolonging the physical intimacy by holding a monologue.

If you still don't believe me, have a look at their faces when they get interrupted.

Crowley has a "whot?" expression on his face and not a single hint of anger or annoyance. Aziraphale has an expression I will lovingly call "perish you peasant and let my demon husband slam me against a wall in peace".

If someone gave you only this picture—no context, nothing—what would you assume they were doing before someone rudely interrupted them? Based on what the fuck is happening on their faces and the complete lack of distance between their bodies, you'd probably assume they were snogging each other senseless.

Which they were, in a way, just without the lip contact.

I rest my case.

[ghostkinnie]

COD BOYS WHEN YOU DIE IN THEIR ARMS

pairing: ghost, soap, price, könig, alejandro and graves.

warnings: angst, mentions of death and blood, gender neutral y/n.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

- Simon was an empty shell for a long time until you came along and showed him what it was like to live again. You turned his life upside down and taught him what love was.

- But there you were now. Bleeding in his arms for a bullet coming from a sniper that he didn't find and didn't kill. He had failed.

- The only thing keeping Ghost sane and human was now dying in his arms and becoming cold as ice.

- And there was nothing he could do to save you. Once again he would lose everyone he loves because he was unable to protect. He had believed in happiness but it was taken from him again.

- " Please... Please Y/N don't leave me. Open your eyes. Please...Don't leave me alone...."

- But there was nothing else to do. You were dead and Simon went back to being a broken, empty shell. A ghost that would wander in solitude.

●●●

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

- You are Johnny's sunshine even though he is a contagious explosion. You were everything that made this man smile.

- You "were" as you now hung lifeless in his arms. He had arrived too late.

- And for not arriving sooner now he had the love of his life dead in a pool of blood. He would never forget. He would never forgive himself.

- He would brush your hair out of your face and stroke your cheek one last time as desperate sobs wriggled out of him.

- "Love? Please love answer me...! Y/N breathe.!"

- He would scream and just leave your side when Ghost or Price dragged him.

●●●

CAPTAIN JOHN "PRICE"

- Losing a soldier has always been difficult for Price. He is the captain and responsible for the lives of his men.

- But in the end he always had to move on.. but not this time. Not when the shot hit the only person he lived and died for; you.

- "Baby?! Call the fucking doctors now!...Little one I'm here now I've got you."

- But it didn't matter how quickly the doctors arrived or how much he called your name. There was a lot of blood and you were already choking on it.

- Price would beg you to resist but he knew. He knew you were gone and taken a part of him with you; his happiness.

●●●

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

- Alejandro is a romantic man and in the moment the two of you got into a relationship he knew you would take over his mind. There was only you for him.

- He would die for you and he always told you that. But what he didn't know is you who would do it throwing yourself in front of him to receive a stab.

- The knife would still be stuck in your belly when he grabbed you and looked at you in complete despair. He had never been so afraid.

- He would scream for doctors, carry you, kiss your bloodied hands and be by your side every final second.

- But being by your side wasn't enough to save you. And the scene of your last breaths would haunt him forever.

- ¿Mi amor? Por favor...Talk to me.."

●●●

KÖNIG

- You were the most precious thing in König's life. Everything that kept him stable and close to complete happiness. You were his life.

- And he was a boy so lost in love that he believed you two would be happily ever after. He really wanted this.

- But all of König's dreams of you were shattered when a gunshot rang out and a bloodstain formed on your chest.

- That was it. Nothing could be done. You were dying and König could just scream and hug your body so tightly it could break bones. He was so scared.

- Liebe? Mein Leben?...Bitte.. Wake up wake up wake up.. WAKE UP!"

- Panic fills his body and he knows that after that day he would be a broken man.

●●●

PHILLIP GRAVES

- Graves met you during missions of the 141. You were a bomb of energy and transformed his life into pure joy. He was lost in you.

- It happened during the betrayal. He intended to take you with him and keep you by his side no matter what.

- But one of his shadows ended up shooting you. And the only thing Graves could see was your body collapsing lifelessly to the floor. What was the point of living if the love of his life was dead?

- A scream of pure pain escaped his lips and he rushed to drag his body to safety. But it was no use. You were no longer breathing.

- I'm sorry! I'm sorry it's my fault! It's all my fault please...Please don't die!"

- But you were already dead and it was his fault.

[hiskillingjar]

brother-and-sister bonding

Relationship: Ren Hana/MC Rating: Explicit Includes: Fauxcest, Hate Sex, Bratting, Sex Toys, Lactation Length: 5400+ words

a super generous and fun request for an anonymous user on ko-fi, thank you so much!

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

Life was easy for Ren. 

He had a routine, he had a structure, he had a set of rules that he could abide by, day to day, to make sure he stayed alive and stayed sane.

In the mornings (or early afternoons, depending on how long he slept in for, how bad the night before had been for him), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, and then maybe, occupy his time with a new show (he got through his watch list in record time, these days) or some heavily filtered internet access. 

At mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap in the armchair in the living room while he watched another show, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task, maybe the most!) 

In the evenings, if he lasted that long, he’d make dinner, clean up after himself (again), and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again for the rest of time, forever.

Often what people didn’t tell those who were getting rehabilitated after a long duration of captivity, was just how difficult life was suddenly going to get for them.

After the period of attention-heavy coddling, even captives had to engage in the real world again, and many cracked under the pressure of just how hard being a person could be,

Captivity was, unfortunately, very easy for someone like Ren, despite the ever-present danger that threatened him for what felt like every minute of the day. 

It was stable. It was routine. It was monotonous. 

And though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a caged animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it within an inch of his life, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day, for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new toy had come in and fucked all of that up.

And hence why he was currently staring at his computer screen, some monotonous, cloying, fan-servicey type livestream happening in the background of his brooding, instead of making dinner for the evening like he usually did, all because she had so generously offered to do it in his stead.

He seethed silently to himself as he shoved off his headphones with a huff, the smell of sticky brown sauce and tofu making his nose twitch, potent even from all the way downstairs. 

She was probably burning it, which just made him even angrier.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, his tail idly swaying with irritation (enough to make his computer chair spin to and fro). This was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade would give her whenever she presented the shitty dinner she had made to him, reminding Ren of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he would pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he would compliment her cooking (while he was sitting right there), commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way. 

"Ren," She said brightly, jolting him out of his thoughts and pulling any lingering attention he might have had on the livestream away, as she poked her head around the door frame with a beaming smile, always sunshine and roses. "Dinner's ready!"

“Mmf,”

He didn’t respond immediately, at least not properly, his ears twitching irritably as he set his headphones on his desk, turning menacingly (or an attempt of menace, at least) in his computer chair and glaring at her for what felt like a solid thirty seconds of pregnant silence. 

“What was that?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Um,” Her smile faltered slightly as she nudged the door open a little more. “I said dinner was ready. Black bean tofu and veggies.” She attempted another smile. “I’ve been at it all afternoon.”

Because you’re a lousy cook, he wanted to say, but he bit his lip to stop himself.

He knew he should have probably said something at least vaguely kind and grateful; a "thank you" or a "good work" or something like that. He knew that he should have attempted to express a least an approximation of sincere gratitude towards her effort, knew that because he had been conditioned into it. 

But a knot in his stomach stopped him from feeling anything even close to gratitude, replaced by a curling spiral of…something else he couldn’t (wouldn’t) name.

"You didn’t need to come up here and tell me.” He eventually said as flatly as possible, turning back to his screen. “I’m not hungry.”

"Are you sure?" She asked, tilting her head thoughtfully with a little pout, her long hair running down her shoulders and covering her full chest. "I got a recipe from one of your cookbooks. It's Japanese, special for you!"

Special for him?

He stiffened slightly against the tall back of his chair, before turning to give her a suspicious, sideways glance. 

Cast half in the bright light of the hallway, and half by the LED strips that covered his desk and the walls of his bedroom, she looked…well, pretty good, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. 

Dressed in a tight, milk-maid-like dress that hugged her body in several flattering ways, the neckline also cutting low enough to accentuate the smooth, pale plains of her chest, it was…sort of no wonder Strade had developed such a fondness for her in such little time.

He could only imagine what she might have looked like, begging and pleading for his mercy, her pale skin streaked with blood, her full lips open and gasping and crying. 

“I said I’m not hungry.” He repeated, turning back to his computer to hide his wandering eyes and the pinkish hue of his cheeks. "And...I mean, it IS kind of presumptuous that you think I'd want to eat it anyway, just because it's Japanese. Super rude of you, actually. You should ask what I want first, if you’re gonna do that."

"Mm, y-yeah, fine, I guess so." She finally stepped inside his room (without his asking to), making him turn back to look at her again with an annoyed glare. Her cheeks were slightly pink with embarrassment and her hands were clasped tont of her, fingers twitching in their entanglement. "You don't have to be an asshole, though, you know. I'm just trying to be nice..."

Nobody asked you to." He retorted sharply, crossing his arms over his chest with a childish huff. "I don’t need you to pretend to be all nice and caring, and…and motherly all of a sudden for whatever reason. Just stop.” He huffed again, his gaze flitting to the side. “I don’t find it cute, so don’t bother with that crap around me."

She stood back towards the closed door of his bedroom, her body straightening out, ridding itself of any pretence of embarrassment or bashfulness in her posture, with a little scoff and another pout, putting her hands on her hips.

Never beating the motherly allegations, it seemed.

"I'm not pretending, I just made dinner and wanted to include you,” She complained with a sharp look. “A-and motherly, what is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and spun his computer chair to face her fully, and for a split second, he almost found her indignant pout endearing and soft of cute, almost enough to drop the whole thing and leave her alone to enjoy the dinner she had made special for him.

Just almost, though.

"Of course, you’re pretending," He snapped, rolling his eyes, his tail idly swaying again. "What, am I supposed to believe that you would normally act like some simpering housewife, making dinners and cleaning and wearing a pretty dress, if you weren’t trying to get Strade to like you? It’s all fake. You’re fake” 

He laughed and shook his head. 

"You like to act like you're sooo much better than me, don't you? Well, I can see through your bullshit act, so it’s not going to work on me. Get it?"

Her eyes widened slightly as he ranted to her, and she let out another scoff when he was finished, breathing out an aggravated laugh with a sardonic smirk.

"Are you kidding? That's the reason you're pissed off at me?" She crossed her arms, the weight of her full chest pooling over them, showing them off even more. "Because Strade is leaving you alone? Because you actually get to have a night by yourself instead of entertaining your fucking kidnapper so he doesn’t kill you when he’s bored?"

"No, that's not why I'm pissed at you, idiot." He jabbed back quickly, his tail lashing behind him as he sat forward in his seat. "I'm pissed off at you because your fake bullshit has been interrupting me all week. You keep going around the house,” He gestured widely with his hands, putting on a simpering tone. “Looking all cute and sweet and trying to act like some sort of housewife. What are you, Strade’s lapdog? Or are you just trying to suck up to him so you can get rewarded for being a good girl?"

She bristled at that, a scowl darkening her pretty features.

"Excuse me for having some semblance of a survival instinct.” She barked back. “Are you really so jealous that you'd create these bullshit excuses for yourself, Ren? Maybe you should be grateful that I’m not just leaving you to fend for yourself, that’s what someone else would do-"

"Survival instinct?! You don't understand anything!” He immediately shouted back, almost cutting her off as he thrust his hands against his chest. “How about you try feeling the way I do, try feeling like you've been cast off for the shiny new toy!  Tell me how fucking grateful you'd feel after that!"

She grinned smugly, looking almost triumphant that she'd gotten a reaction from him.

Maybe she wasn’t as sweet as he’d first assumed.

"You're pathetic, you know that?” She said, narrowing her eyes towards him, her tone cutting and sharp. “You're like a little kid, fighting for Daddy's attention."

That comment almost stopped him in his tracks, making him feel, instantly, like he had been punched in the face with a combination of rage, jealousy and despicable lust.

It was so absurd, so out of nowhere and yet so painfully on target that it made a furious blush spread across his face.

"Fuck you-" He murmured through grit teeth, his hands curling against the pockets of his joggers.

"Is that what he is to you, Ren?" She asked him with a mocking pout. "Is he your daddy?"

"You…" He stood up from his computer chair abruptly (enough to push it back against his desk), his tail whipping behind him furiously. "You don't, y-you’re one to talk! You’re the one who keeps sucking up to him, l-like you're soooo happy,” He gritted his teeth, his cheeks flushing darker as he tried to put some kind of authority to his voice. “T-To have Strade’s attention that you'll do whatever he wants, like you like being his whore or something!”

“I’m not his fucking whore!” She yelled back at him, almost at a breaking point of her own. 

“Then stop acting like one!” He hissed.

"Why don't you go suck Daddy's cock,” She bit back, her voice louder than it had been before (and surely loud enough for anyone downstairs to hear too). “If you're so fucking desperate for it?!"

“Shut up!”

Overcome by his animal instincts (to kill, bite, maim, hurt, whatever he needed to do to win), he practically leapt forward, his vision red with anger, and grabbed her by the wrists, digging his claws deep into her skin as he pushed her backwards against the closed bedroom door, each body wrestling to overpower the other.

“Ngh!” She cried out loudly, trying to yank back from his grip, making his claws dig in deeper, as if he had already tethered himself to her. “G-Get off me!”

When he was this close, barely inches from her face as spittle sprayed across his cheeks, all while she shouted and screamed with primal annoyance, he could see each wrinkle and twist in her furious expression, and he was suddenly compelled to hit her, take her by the shoulders and bash her head into the door, the wall, until there was nothing left to be angry at. 

He couldn’t help it, he told himself amid his rage. 

The prospect of slapping that taunting, insolent expression off her face and replacing it with something more appealing, something that better suited her pretty face, something red and bloody and meaty, was just…too compelling

“Shut up, you goddamn moron.”

He pressed himself against her as she kept trying to fight him off of her, using his (minute) weight to keep her pinned against the door, his tail lashing and his teeth bared.

“Stop talking crap like you know fucking anything about me,” He hissed, feeling his annoyance grow even more as she kept fighting and wriggling underneath him. “As though you’re so much better. Shut. Up.”

She kept on writhing against him all the while, her full hips occasionally colliding with his, little whimpers falling from her lips like a pinned animal. 

All of that (unfortunately) got his blood pumping like mad, the constant stimulation against his growing arousal, as well as the primal excitement of holding a squirming body still for a change (rather than being the one who was squirming), and he had to resist the urge to shudder and moan, feeling his skin prickle and his tail twitch as he pressed his body up against hers further, their hips aligned wonderfully.

He was aware, too, of the way her full chest (practically spilling out of her dress) was pushed against his, and the way he was forcing her to crane her neck back so she could even look at him.

It made him feel good.

It made him feel powerful. And he so rarely got to feel anything even close to that.

"You wanna play 'house', huh? Is that it?" He murmured as he pressed closer, forcing their faces together and growling into her cheek, before sliding a knee between her thighs and hiking it upwards, forcing her thighs to part. "Alright, if Strade is 'daddy', I guess that makes us 'brother and sister', doesn't it?"

Her eyes widened slightly at his growled words, stunned into near stillness before her expression twisted into one of shocked disgust and she kept squirming erratically underneath his body, especially so when his hips went forward, rubbing the beginnings of his erection against her thigh.

"Get the fuck off me!” She shrieked, shaking her head to shove him away.

“Ah-ah!”

He let out a mean laugh and grabbed her by the jaw then, his claws digging into her skin as he forced her to look at him, to see his golden eyes, sparkling with mirth, and know what he wanted from her. Her cheeks were flushed with furious humiliation, and her full lips were parted and wet with sprayed spittle, and his stomach felt like it was in knots from the effort of trying to control himself. 

“You were the one who fucked around with me, you little brat,” He said, his voice almost a low growl, as his snarling lips grew into a smirk, his knee going up higher and nudging at the front of her panties. "Oh, now you're fighting me because you don't want to play anymore? Is that it?"

"Don't touch me, you freak!" She protested again, crying out when his claws sank deeper into her wrists and the meat of her cheek, as sharp as a needle in a pin cushion, droplets of blood streaming out and beading around his fingertips. “You’re, ngh, you’re just as bad as he is!”

Was that an insult or a compliment? Depended on the day, he guessed.

“HAH! Am I?” He keened forward on his tiptoes then, so they were face to face, as close they could get, and he could feel her panicked breaths ghost over his face, warming it up even more than it was already. “I’ll show you how bad I can be, hm?” 

He hated her. He knew that much, at this point.

So why...why did seeing her pinned, wriggling, crying underneath him make his blood feel like it was roaring in his veins, like it had never done before?

Something something, there is an awful lot of love in hate.

Or, certainly, an awful lot of lust.

"Ohhh, little sister doesn't want to play anymore?” He taunted, lowering his voice to a cloying coo. “She wants to stay perfect and untouched for Daddy, doesn't she?" He then added sharply, as if he felt truly scorned, his breath growing faster as adrenaline and anger and hot arousal started to boil over and he rutted against her thigh even more, even faster. "Maybe he likes you so much because you'll play the whore, though, cus you'll play mommy for him."

"Nghhh, fuck," She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip as he rocked into her. “I’m not a fucking whore-”

“Mm, I think you are,” He continued to taunt, one hand sinking from her jaw (leaving behind bloody gouges on her skin) to hungrily pull open the ties of her dress, the fabric unfolding and revealing more of her pale chest, heaving and spilling out of the tight cotton. "Your tits are big enough to be mommy, anyway, a little too big to be a cute, little sister.”

"You've got a dirty, nh!" She flinched as he tore more of the dress, retrieving a scrap from the front (making it unwearable, in the future) to bind her wrists together in a messy knot, before hooking them above her head on a jacket peg. "A-A dirty mouth, Ren..."

“And you’ve got a dirty mind,” He replied smugly with a big grin, his tail idly wagging as he leisurely paced to the side and opened the top drawer of his desk, retrieving a set of bullet vibrators and a roll of athletic tape.

Finally, he was getting the chance to do this.

It had been a long time coming, he thought with a smirk, looking back at her. And who knew when he’d get this chance again?

Best to make the most of it now.

“Did Daddy get this for you, little sis?” He asked as he paced back towards her with a lazy saunter, tauntingly toying with the flaps of cotton fabric with one of his bloody claws. “Or did you ask for it, because you like showing yourself off for him, hm?~”

"I'm not your fucking sister, you pervert," She growled with a venomous look in her eyes, trying to pull at the cotton sash binding her, though her effort was evidently in vain when she let out a pained hiss, the cotton rubbing painfully against the dots of blood marring her wrists. “That’s sick.”

“Oh, but you said it yourself, didn’t you?” He asked with an innocent tone to his voice, tugging the dress’ fabric down even more so that her nipples were revealed, swelling with involuntary arousal, ripe and delicious and waiting for him. “You can’t take it back now. You’ve let me think about it for too long, now.”

He hummed casually as he positioned the first bullet against her nipple and taped it in place with strips of tape, biting off each one as they lay flat on her breast, idly licking his lips as he did so.

"What’re you doing?” She asked with a confused look towards her now adorned chest, before her eyes went back to his, her brows knitting together with concern. 

“Don’t worry about it,” He smirked, positioning the second bullet across her other nipple and taping that in place too. “We’re just playing, aren’t we, sis? It’s nothing that serious.”

“W-We’re not,” She started, catching herself stammering and swallowing uncomfortably as her bound wrists rolled together again. “We’re not playing. I don’t want to play.”

“Mm, and I didn’t want you bothering me all night,” He replied airily, hiking up the skirt of her dress and revealing a sensible pair of panties. Figures, Strade never cared about important things like aesthetics. That was his job, he supposed. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

He then pressed his thumb against the front of her panties, his smirk widening into a (sort of) genuine smile when he found a slightly damp spot. 

“Or, heh, maybe you are getting exactly what you want,” He suggested, leaning into her with a lecherous smile, his tail swaying as he slid the last bullet into her panties, nestled against where she was most sensitive (and he guessed as much, from the way she immediately flinched and whimpered as he tried to adjust it into the perfect place). “And you’re lying to me. What a naughty little sister I have, hah~”

“I’m not-NGH!”

He turned all three vibrators on with the click of a button, and her eyes almost instantly bulged out of her skull, overwhelmed by the buzzing sensation, and her expression only got more exaggerated and hot as he slid the vibrators’ motor up another notch, giving her even more to focus on.

“You’re noooot?” He drawled with a teasing grin, pressing close to her again as she moaned mindlessly, squeezing her eyes shut to try and contain the amount of pleasure she was being forced to feel. “You’re not lying, you’re not enjoying this, or…” 

He turned the vibrators up another notch, hearing another loud, pained moan from her parted lips.

“You’re not my little sister, hm? Which is it?”

“Nnfff, Rennnn,” She murmured pleadingly, her thighs pressing together tightly and trembling, struggling to hold her body upright, as she stared towards him, any previous venom in her gaze and tone long absent. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry for whatever I did. But, hah, please,” She whimpered again, eyes clenched shut again as another wave of white-hot pleasure hit her hard. “T-This is too much, way too much, nhh!”

“Oh, so, now you’re wanting to be good?” He asked with the same cloying tone as before, nuzzling against the crook of her neck, against her cheek, scenting her, his twitching ears grazing her temple and making him shiver. “You’ve seen what happens when you’re bad, and now you want to be a good girl for me, like you are with Daddy, hm?”

“Yesss,” She drawled, doing her best to look towards him and acclimate to what he wanted of her. “Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please just stop-”

“Tell you what…” He started, turning the vibrators up another notch and listening to her cry out with another big smile, running his tongue over his teeth. “Address me properly and maybe I’ll think about going easy on you. What do you think about that, hm?”

“H-Hah,” 

She breathed out, her bound hands curling into tight fists above her as she closed her eyes with a tight, grimacing expression, clearly not thrilled by what she was about to say, but…willing to do it for what she needed. 

“P-Please…big brother,” He lip twitched with slight discomfort. “Please turn your toys off…I promise, I’ll be a good sister from now on, I won’t bother you ever again, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s really good, little sis,” He mumbled his tone sweet with praise as he pressed a wet kiss against her cheek. “Sounds almost like you practised it, just for me. Mm, Daddy did well with you, didn’t he? He’s training you to be a good, little whore…”

“Ngh,” Her head sank against her heaving chest, her breathing hard. “Please, please, please…please stop, now, please?”

“Mm…too bad.”

He then slid the motor up to the highest setting he could, the incessant buzzing of the triplet bullets almost drowning out the wonderful sound of her pained cries and whines.

Almost.

“FUUUCK!” She cried out like she was experiencing something close to true agony, gritting her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut and opening wide over and over again, fluttering, like a broken baby doll, while her wet mouth gaped and drooled, unable to stop herself. “FUCK, STOP, PLEASE!”

This was truly too perfect.

Someone was actually experiencing (at least a close approximation of) true pain in front of him. They were writhing, crying, bleeding, and begging him for mercy (that they wouldn’t find) and for him to let them go, and whatever they had to do, they’d do, just for a chance at freedom.

She was in a position he had been in countless times before, all because of him.

He’d never been more turned on.

His shaking hand quickly sank to the front of his joggers, urgently untying the toggle before peeling them down and revealing his hard, leaking cock, the knot throbbing hungrily at the base, waiting for something warm to fuck and sink into, like he was sliding into an unknowable home.

"Fuck, you deserve this.” He breathed hard through his gritted teeth, working his hand up and down the length of it as he pressed closer against her, panting against her already hot skin, probably making her feel that much more uncomfortable. “It's what you get for getting on my nerves. Now, hah,” 

He squeezed the head of his cock hard, a pearl of pre-cum smearing against her naked thighs (scarred, just like his were, cut from the same cloth, a creation of the same master, embodying the same trauma, as much as he despised it). 

“N-Now you're going to be all ruined and fucked up, and Daddy is going to go back to loving me even more…hah,” His head tilted forward against her shoulder, breathing harder as he worked himself up even more. “That’s all I want…e-everything I want, mm-”

He knew that probably wasn’t likely.

He knew that anything he could have done to a new toy wouldn’t have ruined her for Strade in the slightest.

If anything, it might have made him like her even more.

But it felt good to say, all the same.

"Maybe you won't be a sister or a mommy anymore.” He whispered into her skin as she kept crying out for mercy, her jaw tense and her eyes wide and staring right ahead of her, thousands of miles away. “M-Maybe you'll just be some dumb dog that sleeps outside and pisses with her leg up, and...nhh..."

He squeezed another dribble of pre-cum across her skin, before reaching up to grope and paw at one of her breasts.

"Fuck, sis, that's so good,” He gasped, as a wave of white-hot pleasure hit him all at once. The full weight and size of her breast made it even more fun to handle and play with, which in turn just made him feel that much more aroused.  “Mm...if I didn’t think it’d get me killed, I’d have fucked you by now, without a care in the world…mm.” 

She moaned brainlessly again, her head sinking against her thick, metal collar, bucking mindlessly against nothing as she was pushed closer and closer to her breaking point.

“Nnhh, that’s okay though~” He breathed out with a wheezing little titter, running his tongue over his fangs before pressing another kiss to her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck and her jaw. “It’ll feel good knowing you’re losing your mind because of me anyway…even if I can’t fuck you yet.”

“Nghh, please,” She drawled with a shaking exhale, pleading, soft thighs clenched together as she sank against her binds, the ratty cotton seemingly the only thing keeping her upright. “Please, fuck me, I want you to-”

“Ohoho, how she changes her tune now,” Ren laughed again, filled with unexpected energy to persist as he pulled back to really look at her, exhausted and empty of the protest she was full of before. “What, has my sweet little sister decided that she wants to play the whore all of a sudden? My my, we really aren’t ourselves when we want something, are we?”

“Ren, hah, big brother,” She squealed as he lowered his head to tongue at her breast, or, at least, what little of her areola he hadn’t covered with the tape. “Please, please, this feels like torture…”

“Oh, but it’s supposed to, sis,” He purred with an indulgent smile, nuzzling against her chest as his fist moved faster, up and down, his cock, his own arousal getting close to painful, he was so close. “Ngh, it’s supposed to be all fun for me, and torture for you. This is how things work around here, after all, don’t you know that?”

“Ghhhh, too much,” She whined, squeezing her eyes shut again, her head hitting the door as she tipped her head back. “Hurting, please, nhh…”

“Shhh, I know, baby,” Ren thencooed softly, his tail wagging at her needy tone as he peeled the athletic tape from her sore nipple and pulled the bullet aside, giving himself the full expanse of her nipple to tongue and taste as he pleased. “Just be good and I’ll try and make this bearable for you, kay?~”

“Stop, stop, hah!” Her eyes went wide again as she started to struggle. “Stop, ngh, t-that’s really sore!”

“You know I’m not going to do that,” He smiled teasingly, before slipping the now available bullet into her panties with the third one, only adding more to her torture and quickly making her shut up again. “Try to endure it, okay? I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“Nhhh,” She moaned helplessly, her eyes rolling back into her head (where they belonged, not looking at him, not seeing him), her mouth open and gasping and drooling.

“That’s it,” He praised with another smile, kissing her nipple again. “Much better.”

He indulgently ran the flat of his tongue over the ripe bud of her nipple as he kept fucking his fist, latching onto it like a babe and suckling eagerly, the taste and weight of her body against his pushing him, too, that much closer to the edge.

He was already so close, already there, when-

“MM-!”

Ren pulled back quickly, his eyes wide and his tongue between his teeth, when he spotted…

Was that milk? Oozing from her chest?

“You’re…lactating,” He pointed out, looking up towards her empty face (she was so lost, so far gone, so lovely to look at already) with a furrowed expression before a shaky smile crossed his face and he looked back down to where her nipple was still dribbling fluid. “Oh…hah, wow, that’s…um…”

His face was beet red and his cock was throbbing even more against his palm.

“Really, really fucking hot.”

He closed the temporary gap between the two of them quickly, suckling again at her nipple and moaning as another gush of fluid shot across his tongue, sweet and fatty and so delicious, he thought he was going to go crazy.

“G-God, I guess you really are Mommy, huh?” He murmured shakily, licking his lips (licking his fangs while he was at it) as he desperately lapped up any of the remaining drops that ran down her breast. “Mm, that’s okay, though. You’re still my sweet little sister, even if you are getting too big for it, nnhHH!”

His mouth went back to suck her nipple again, jerking himself off so roughly (so much so, her breast muffled actual whimpers) that it was starting to hurt, his cockhead sore and red and weeping with beads of pre-cum now, he was that close to climax and so desperate for release.

Another spurt of breast milk crossed his tongue, which he swallowed eagerly with another whimper, his lids fluttering and his legs trembling from the exertion of holding himself upright.

He was so close, everything about this was perfect, it was all perfect, He was so close, he was almost there, he was-!

“Are you two coming down for dinner or what?! I don’t want to be kept waiting~”

[kachowden]

Yandere Ex & Reader? Hell yeah.

Tw: Harassment, physical assault (not towards reader), weirdo behavior, Chris is a dickhead, suggestive mentions.

His skin prickled aggressively. Teeth clenched together, grinding against their own enamel.

“Christophe? man? You seein anyone new recently?”

His eyes trailed listlessly to the right of him. Nick wasn’t anything special in his mind. Average teen with slightly above average looks in the eyes of the campus. A constant pain in his as, but- useful. Very useful.

“You know I’m not. And don’t call me Christophe.” His tone did little to hide his irritation, though Nick seemed oblivious to it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Yeah yeah whatever man. Does that mean you’ve gotten over that Ex of yours?”

Christophe’s shoulders tensed violently.

“So they’re on the market then right?”

“Fuck yeah dude!”

Two other members of their group laughed crudely, their names so insignificant that Christophe hadn’t made the effort to remember them. They weren’t useful.

His brows furrowed deeply in agitation, and he was quick to shoot the two teens a burrowing glare. “You shut your fucken mouth.”

Nick laughed awkwardly, patting the fuming blonde on the back. “Now now Chris…they’re just messing with ya…”

One of the other members didn’t seem to agree, his own confrontational personality showing light as he crossed his arms moodily. “I don’t see why your panties are in a twist. Last time I checked you two broke up sophomore year. Don’t you think it’s about time you move on and let the rest of us have a taste?”

The moronic teen made a crude hand gesture towards his friend, who seemed to recognize the tension in the air, and made the wise decision to glance away from the act.

Smart move on his end.

The thud of a body against tile echoed the empty corridor, the perverse male choked and sputtered against the hand that crushed his throat.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you. With all the shit you spew I’m surprised someone hasn’t cut it out yet and saved the rest of us the headache.”

Blue eyes stared at brown eyes, so dark they looked black, and made quick work to try and wiggle his way out of Christophe’s hold.

“F-fuck Off-!” A fist in his gut made him nearly hurl, his eyes straining and bugging painfully in his sockets from the blood rising to his face. His stomach heaved incessantly, and at this rate he found he might die from asphyxiation on his own bile. Not that he knew what asphyxiation was.

Christophe watched boredly.

“D-dude chill out-“ the other nameless tried to de-escalate the situation, but was quick to stop when he saw the look in Christophes eyes. “J…just say sorry man..” that was directed at the pinned idiot, his smart mouthed friend.

The blue faced male was sane enough to try and spew out an apology, it sounding disgustingly gurgled, though it was the best he could manage while on the verge of passing out. Christophe sneared, dropping the male to the floor.

The blue eyed teen landed to the floor with a heaving thud, his body contracting in its vicious attempts to breath again, his buddy sliding next to him and trying to keep him alive.

“Let’s go.”

Christophe’s indifferent tone was appealing at best, as he made his way down the corridor.Nick was quick to follow.

“You think they’ll snitch?”

A scoff.

“No. He’s stupid. Not suicidal.”

————-

There you were. Mindlessly reading. Fitting, since you were in a library.

This had become routine for Chris.

He found it in himself to admit he could stare at you for hours. And he had before.

It wasn’t hard too. What drew him to you now was the same thing that drew him to you before.

You were so….you. It was weird in a painfully charming way.

You were such a normal person. You had your own quirks, like everyone did. But you didn’t stand out. You weren’t popular. You weren’t a social outcast either. You were just…kinda there.

It was enthralling at the best of times. Irritating at the worst. Perfect at most.

He could acknowledge that your normalcy was intoxicating. Especially in his day to day life.

Christophe would never acknowledge however, the way he still clung to the sight of you after all these years. That your departure from him had affected him as much as it did. That would be soul crushing. Because it meant you still had power over him, which he very much knew you did. But he’d never admit it. Even to himself. He’d die parading it as some morbid interest in your breaking point. In his desire to study you like a lab rat. Someone he’d poke at until he got the reaction he wanted.

And he always got what he wanted.

But even then. Even if he claimed that, his interest in you was not romantic. Was not what it once was years ago.

Your skin looked so empty now, and he physically ached with the desire to leave marks on it like he once did.

He knew deep down he was lying.

The staring quickly became unsatisfactory, and with little hesitation he made his way over to your table, his hand slamming beside yours as he hovered over you, a cruel grin stretched on his lips.

“Looks like the nerd decide to hang out in its natural habitat today.”

“…..”

He fucken hated when you ignored him.

“Your friends finally ditch you Y/n? Surprised it took this long.” He didn’t mean that. If your friends had any sense they’d never leave you alone.

“Go away Christophe.”

Fuck.

He loved it when you said his name. Something primal always sprang forward, and you were none the wiser to being the only one who could call him that without getting a broken nose.

“Why? I just wanna hang out with my favorite person in the whole wide world~” his expression was pulled into a pitiful frown, though he knew you could see through his bullshit. You always could.

“……”

He growled deep within his throat, hand darting forward and snatching the book from your own

The sudden grin on his collar didn’t register until it was choking him, and his eyes were met with the sight of your scalding glare. Your noses bumped together, and it took everything in Christophe to not look at your lips, otherwise he knew he’d try to kiss them. He had very little self control in moments like these.

“Fuck off Chris. Give me back my book.”

Fuck he wanted to listen to you so bad, his thighs were quick to clench together in anticipation, licking his suddenly chapped lips as he trembled in your hold. Though not from fear like you probably suspected. If you were even paying attention to details like that, which- god he prayed you were.

“Careful-! Wouldn’t want the faculty seeing you manhandle their favorite student” He tossed the book to you, and once you caught it you dropped him to the ground.

His eyes darted upwards, the visual of you above him, staring at him like the filth on your boot was burned into his retinas.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“You’re pathetic Christophe. When are you gonna get over me.”

Never. Never, he would stay hooked on you for the rest of his life and he’d known that even before you both broke up

He’s craved you for years. Ages. You’d never know the true extent of how pathetic he was.

“Like I’d still be interested in someone like you Y/n. The end of our relationship was like a blessing. I’d never felt so alive.” Liar. Liar liar liar. It was painful saying these things. Even if your expression was exciting, the way he got to see it almost wasn’t worth it. They burned his tongue.

Being away from you was like being wrapped in heavy cuffs and weights. He felt more suffocated then ever. He needed you.

“Whatever. Just leave me alone this week. I have enough bullshit to deal with right now.”

He had so many questions. He wanted to ask what was wrong. To hold you and tell you that you could talk to him. That whatever, or whoever was bothering you, he’d beat the shit out of them if you asked. He’d do it even if you didn’t too.

But he stayed quiet. And he watched as you left him their on the floor. You cared so little for him.

He savored the backwards glance you threw his way.

Fuck.

[shixcherie]

Bunny Card Never Declines | Choi Jongho ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 14 : Lace and Leather

↬ [ Synopsis ] : After a messy breakup, Jongho seeks comfort in a charming bunny, unaware of the surprises ahead. Will this new pet awaken desires that blur the lines between affection and temptation?

☆ Word Count : 2.3k ☆ Genre : Smut, Some plot, Animal Shifter Au, Idol Au. ☆ Pairing : Idol! Jongho x Shapeshifter Bunny! F.Reader

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, Sub reader, Soft Dom Jongho, praise, lingerie, making out, neck kisses, pet names (bunny, baby), master kink, very graphical, bunny shapeshifter, pet/owner relationship, clueless bunny, kinda naive, reader speaks in third person ( in a few parts), unprotected sex ( don’t be so daring, wrap it up). {lemme know if I missed it }

NOTE : Day 14 is here, ma chéries! I decided to experiment with the theme a bit, keyword tried. This is my first time writing a bunny reader, so please go easy on me! I’d love any suggestions on how I can improve writing this kinda stuff.

His hyungs watched as Jongho hurriedly packed his bags right after rehearsals, almost as if he were rushing to catch a train. Since his recent breakup, Jongho had changed. He no longer stayed after practice, often ran home in a rush, and only hung out with the members once or twice a week.

The group assumed this was just his way of healing, and after he got a pet bunny, everyone figured he was fine. Truth to be told, he was doing better than expected. Spending time with the bunny he had name y/n, was the only thing keeping him sane after that messy breakup and hectic scedules for the comeback.

“Looks like Y/N finally replaced that stupid girl. My baby bro's happy again.” Mingi chuckled, watching the younger leave the room with bags slung over his shoulder and a shopping bag in hand.

“She’s just a bunny, man. But yeah, he does seem happier.” San chimed in, stating the obvious.

“He’s so happy he forgot to change out of that leather-ish outfit!” Seonghwa exclaimed, shaking his head as he watched Jongho leave.

Jongho was truly happy when he found the white bunny outside his house exactly five minutes after his girlfriend left after an ugly fight. He felt utterly hopeless in that moment, and with ATEEZ's comeback on the line, packed with a fuck ton of shoots, rehearsals, brand deals, and interviews, he needed something to distract him. He figured a pet could help, so he took the bunny in.

The cute bunny made him happy. Her playful antics, pretty face, and bunny tongue licks slowly helped him forget about the stupid girl who had broken his heart. He spent all his free time playing with her, day and night, after rehearsals. He named her Y/N. And that’s how you became his only hope, his light at the end of a dark tunnel.

But you were no ordinary bunny. You were a shapeshifter, capable of turning into a human at the command of your master, a human master with whom you formed a bond. That bond was created with Jongho on the day of his breakup when he took you in.

Jongho only discovered your shapeshifting abilities a few months ago when he came home late after a practice session and found a beautiful girl sitting on his kitchen island, flour all over her face, chomping on carrots and completely naked.

Your big bunny eyes, innocent yet with a glint of tempting invitation, captivated him. The first time he kissed you, his brain practically short-circuited from the intense sparks he felt—something he never thought was even possible. Your lips were soft and inviting, and don’t even get him started on that bunny tongue.Oh! that tongue could single-handedly show someone heaven on earth.

Whenever you shapeshifted, he loved putting you in one of his oversized hoodies, and the way you followed him around the house gave him a sense of warmth and comfort.

With you shapeshifting at his command, it wasn’t too hard to keep you hidden behind the guise of “just a pet,” but when you took your beautiful human form, that was a whole different story. As Jongho’s attachment to you grew, it didn’t take long before the two of you indulged in some spicy fun.

Your body responded to him like any human body would, his kisses gave you butterflies, his bites turned you on, and his hands roaming your body sent shivers down your spine. Every time his girthy cock entered your tiny hole, waves of pleasure coursed through your entire body, leaving you a moaning mess beneath him.

Each time he fucked you, your desire for him only grew stronger. Lust clouded your mind as you wagged your little bunny tail at his every command, eagerly fulfilling his every dirty desire.

Did you feel like he was taking advantage of you? No.

You loved how he cared for you, and you willingly indulged in him every time.

—

"Khamsamida, madam." Jongho thanked the shop owner after purchasing the special outfit for you. It was lingerie. Luxurious, delicate, and embroidered with intricate lace. As he handed over his card, the shop owner smiled knowingly.

"You've got great taste. This piece will definitely make someone very happy," she remarked, carefully folding the delicate lingerie into a sleek, satin-lined gift box. "It's one of our finest sets, perfect for a special someone."

Jongho nodded, his mind already envisioning you in the outfit. He was getting a bit bored seeing you in his oversized hoodies all the time and thought this luxurious lingerie could, you know, spice things up even more.

When he got home, he found you lying on the couch, munching on some baby carrots while something random played on the TV. Dropping his things, he joined you on the couch, and you quickly snuggled into him, his warm embrace giving you immense comfort.

"Y/n missed Master Jongho." you exclaimed cutely as Jongho caressed your hair. Usually, Jongho hated doing lovey-dovey things like this, but one look at your innocent face and he was ready to give you anything that left your lips. It felt almost hypnotic, the way he fulfilled every single one of your wishes while your sweet voice addressed him as Master.

"I missed you too, pretty girl." he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I got you a gift. Wanna see?" he asked, his hands gently rubbing your back as you leaned deeper into his warmth.

Your eyes lit up instantly at the mention of a gift, you loved surprises. "A gift? For Y/n ?" you asked eagerly, shifting onto your knees. The movement caused the oversized hoodie to ride up, exposing a glimpse of your cute butt.

"Yeah, all for you," he said, nodding toward the bag resting on the table. Without hesitation, you made a beeline for it.

Opening the gift, you tilt your head as you pick up the lingerie set. “What is this ?” you asked him as you walked towards him. Clothes were something you became aware of after meeting Jongho so then, what is this new weird piece of cloth ? you wondered as you waited for Jongho to answer.

"This is something you wear. They're clothes." Jongho explained, his cheeks turning apple red, excitement building at the thought of finally seeing you in the lingerie set.

"Does Master Jongho like this?" you asked, your innocent question had him already feeling flustered as he nodded. "Then Y/N will wear it!" you smiled brightly, starting to pull off the hoodie when he quickly stopped you.

"Wait! Baby, you don’t put this on... in front of me." he stammered, grabbing your hands as you reached for the zipper.

"Why?" you asked, genuinely confused, tilting your head to the side.

"Oh, my baby bunny..." he began, trying to explain through his flustered state. "When someone gives you something like this, you go to another room, put it on, then come back and show them." he said, hoping to hide how much he was anticipating it.

"Oh, like a performance?" you asked, eyes lighting up with excitement. He nodded, relieved, as you sprinted off to the bedroom to put it on.

"Master Jongho, help!" you called from the bedroom, and he rushed in, heart racing. What he saw made his breath catch, you had pulled a playful prank on him, but you looked absolutely stunning in the scarlet lingerie. The sight would leave him daydreaming about you for weeks.

The lingerie hugged your body in all the right places, the soft lace perfectly framing your chest and enhancing the curves of your boobs, plumping them up. The satin straps draped over your shoulders, highlighting yourr delicate collarbone. The lace panties sat snugly against your hips, accentuating the curve of your waist and amplifying the softness of your thighs. Every inch of the fabric seemed designed to highlight your most alluring features, leaving nothing to the imagination yet teasing just enough to drive Jongho wild.

Admiring your beautiful form, Jongho stepped closer, each movement making your heart race with anticipation. "Do I look good, Master?" you squeaked softly as he towered over you.

Leaning in, his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Good? You look absolutely breathtaking, baby." His warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

"Call me Jongho from now on, okay?" he murmured, and you nodded in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, sparking a fire deep inside you.

As Jongho’s lips grazed your neck, he began littering the soft skin with kisses, each one lingering, each one sending electricity through your body. His hands slowly made their way down, squeezing and massaging your ass cheeks as you arched into his touch. His breath was hot against your neck, and you couldn't stop the small gasps that escaped you with each firm squeeze of his hands.

“Jongho...” you whispered, struggling to keep your voice steady as his kisses grew more intense and demanding. While the idea of lingerie was fresh for you, ironically, making out was a skill you had perfected, earning a Ph.D. in the art of seduction. You understood exactly what your beloved Master craved, how he enjoyed your touch, and precisely when to take control, all thanks to the countless weird videos on some sketchy looking website you found on Jongho’s laptop.

Without a word, he pushed you backward, your back meeting the wall with a soft thud. His strong hands held you in place as he lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist. You could feel the hardness of his member pressing against your wetness, the friction making you moan as he began to grind against you. His movements were slow, torturous, his hard length rubbing perfectly against your core, still barely concealed by the thin lingerie. Every grind, every press of his hips left you aching for more, desperate for the feeling of him inside you.

Jongho’s lips moved lower, trailing from your neck to your chest, before he sank to his knees. His dark eyes gleamed with hunger as they roamed over your body, the tight leather of his pants creaking softly as he knelt down.

He gripped your thighs, parting them, and without a word, buried his face between your legs. His mouth found your dripping cunt, juices leaking out just for him as his tongue worked skillfully, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging as he devoured you, juices flowing freely from your growing arousal as soft moans escaped your lips.

But Jongho wasn’t done. Rising to his feet, he placed a warm kiss on your lips, his eyes still hungry as he gently guided you toward the bed. His hands never left your body, caressing and guiding you as he laid you down. Climbing onto the bed, he pulled you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. The heat between your legs still pulsed, but seeing him beneath you, still fully clothed in leather, only made your desire burn hotter. You were desperate for more.

You ground your clothed cunt against the hard bulge in his pants, the slick fabric of your lingerie creating delicious friction against the leather. Jongho’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you rubbed yourself against him, his head falling back as he groaned deeply.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. His eyes were locked on you, watching as you moved against him, your body rolling in perfect rhythm with his. The heat between you two was unbearable, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Yanking his leather pants down, you positioned yourself above him, your fingers around his hard length as you lined it up with your entrance. Slowly, you lowered yourself, taking him in inch by inch, feeling the delicious stretch as he filled you completely. Jongho let out a low groan, his hands immediately cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric. “You feel so good,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, as his hands roamed your body, never stopping their exploration.

The sensation of him inside you, thick and hard, made your head fall back, lips parting in pure pleasure. Jongho’s hands never stayed still, constantly caressing and teasing, sending sparks through your skin. His hips began thrusting up into you, perfectly timed to meet each roll of your hips. Every thrust hit just the right spot inside you, making you moan softly.

“Faster, baby.” Jongho groaned, his fingers tightening around your waist, as you to pick up the pace. The slickness between your thighs increased as you rode him, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room.

His grip on your hips grew stronger, pulling you down harder, each thrust deep and intense. “That’s it… just like that,” he growled, his eyes locked onto your face, watching the way your body responded to him. His hands moved back to your breasts, kneading them, his thumbs circling your nipples, sending waves of pleasure through you.

The tension inside you built rapidly, your body trembling as you chased the high that felt almost there but still far out of reach. “Jongho..ahh…I need to..” you whimpered, your voice breathless as his cock drove you to the edge.

"Come for me, bunny." Jongho whispered, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust up harder, faster. With your master’s command, the pleasure overtook you, your body trembling as you came hard around his thick length, waves of ecstasy crashing through you.

As he guided you through your high, Jongho reached his peak, groaning deeply as he followed you over the edge. His grip tightened on your hips, thrusts growing erratic until he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a deep groan, he buried himself inside you, releasing hot and deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you. Panting heavily, his forehead rested against you as you lay on top of him as both enjoyed this intimate pleasure together.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[eddiezpaghetti]

Okay, so my experience with Stranger Things is a weird one.

I didn't care when it first came out, started to watch it out of "might as well" in 2020, wasn't interested in it enough to make it past S2, forgot about it outside of going "oh, hey, cool, there's a lesbian in it now, I guess," in S3, got really annoyed when "Running Up That Hill" got popular from it because it was a song I listened to on fucking loop after one of my best friends died in high school and I fully expected its appearance in the show to ignore the whole survivor's guilt theme of the song (and was very happy to learn later that it did the exact opposite of ignoring the lyrics), saw people drawing Eddie, suddenly got a lot more interested, watched just the fourth season like a fucking psychopath because I was seriously only there for Eddie, then got interested enough to start the show over properly, having mostly forgotten what I did watch of the show before.

And let me tell you something from the perspective of someone who started with the complete fourth season, who wasn't there from the start, who wasn't tainted by ship goggles or this internal battle of hope and despair, who wasn't theorizing about what the painting could be or expecting Mike and Will to kiss when Volume 2 happened or rooting for Mike and Eleven's relationship to go down in flames or whatever the fuck. Just someone who went blind into Season 4.

It's really fucking obvious that Will and Mike are gonna be endgame.

Like holy fuck. It's so fucking blatant I don't even know why people are nervous.

No sane fucking person would shoot this scene this way if they wanted the audience to care about El and Mike as a couple. Despite being all blurry in the background, Will's reaction to what's happening here is smackdab in the fucking middle, clearly showing that the important part is what's going through his head here. What he's feeling. It's like the opposite of that scene from Kingdom Hearts II where Sora and Riku reunite and Kairi just fucking vanishes into the aether while it's happening because, despite the fact that she was standing between them when the scene began, she doesn't matter to the scene, so she's just kind of gone when the camera angle changes. Will could have been behind one of their heads, or so far in the distance he blends in with the background, but he's not. He's so obvious that despite being massively blurred out, he's still the first goddamn thing you look at. What, you think that's an accident? You think he's in the middle of this dramatic fucking scene because of a mistake? He basically has a big flashing neon arrow pointing at him with "THIS IS THE POINT" being screamed through a megaphone.

And then this?

They're paired up like they're taking fucking prom pictures. Each one of these pairs is so fucking close to one another and so fucking far from everyone else. It's not, "Oh, they're standing vaguely near each other in a group shot," it's fucking Noah's Ark out here. Again, there's no way to take this as an accident. It's not just a framing issue. If they wanted to make the shot look balanced while still not hiding anyone else behind El, they would have scattered people around much more naturally. Even if they wanted to keep Nancy with Jonathan and Hopper with Joyce, there's so much room on that hill for three people to stand on El's left and three on her right. But they didn't do that. They put Mike and Will together on purpose in the most obvious way possible.

Like I get that coming up with crackpot theories is fun in and of itself and I'm not blaming anyone for having fun. I totally get the appeal of arguing a point and reaching for every stupid little thing to pull into it because it's like a game, okay? I've done that. But if you're trying to actually convince someone (whether it's someone who wants to believe or someone who's pissed at the very idea that Mike and Will could be in love), stay away from blue and yellow lights, stay away from costume design, stay away from the existence of closets in backgrounds. And don't worry about whether Mike's gay or bi when he's in love with Will either way. I'll give you a little tip about persuasion: You're only as strong as your weakest argument. Even if you've got strong stuff in there, too, the person you're trying to convince is going to dismiss anything you say as complete insanity the second you start going on an entire tangent about the shape of a character's fucking pocket.

Sometimes, clothes are just clothes. Sometimes, there's a closet in the background because it helps establish that a character is in a bedroom. Sometimes, blue and yellow are just a couple of colors that look nice together. And sure, it might be set designers and costume designers and cinematographers smirking and winking at the audience from behind the camera. But if the show was just those things, instead of those things in the context of everything else, they wouldn't be saying anything of note.

But this?

This tells a story all on its own. Someone with no context can look at this and automatically assume that each paired person is standing with someone they care about deeply, seeking comfort as they watch some sort of disaster unfold. And yeah, romantic couples usually come in twos, and we live in an amatonormative society, so that's going to be the first association anyone makes seeing a bunch of people paired off.

It's the same reason you look at this

And go, "Oh..."

"Those two are probably a couple."

And I genuinely don't understand how people could have watched S4 Vol. 2 and gotten scared. Because as someone who went in with no investment whatsoever, I just looked at these two--

--and went, "Oh, those two are a couple. Good for them." And I moved on. Shut up about the trees for five seconds and just see the forest for what it is.

Oh, and if you're still nervous? Little thing from a storyteller here: You don't leave a hanging thread like "Will confessed his romantic feelings for Mike by projecting them onto El, but Mike either didn't understand or at least didn't say he understood," without coming back to that later. That's Chekov's gun hanging on the wall, babes. It's gonna fire at some point. If Mike was going to reject Will's feelings, if they weren't relevant, they would have had that discussion in Argyle's van. There'd be no reason to leave you in suspense.

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Cthulhu] MORE CTHULHU SCRIBBLES, this time from session 4!! Here we have, uh,

The yellow fog that's taking over New York seems to be able to hijack people and make them think they're one of the characters from the King in Yellow play. Susie DID get brainwashed but we're unclear on whether the knife-twirling skills were there already. IT JUST WOULDNT SURPRISE ME, U KNOW?

AVEDONS HERE??????? If you don't remember Avedon i dont blame you, he last showed up back in seASON 2, in NOLA, where he lost his mind and locked Sammy and Jack in his closet at gunpoint and then started shooting the host at the masquerade party. He seems a little more sane this go round but everyone decided Sammy and Jack should not be in the welcoming party. Anyway sorry NYC is like this for your visit Avedon, I promise there's usually less dread carcosa

Sammy brought Prophet out to see if he could tell whether or not Peter is THE ONE THE PHANTOM SEEKS and Prophet decided to make sure he was getting an accurate reading by smooshing his hands all over Peter's face. Don't worry about it, Peter!! It's fine. Normal Sammy Behaviour.

And if you'd like some Out of Context quotes from our session, those are under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] *recapping* Joey tried to do some bullshit, and it, uh, made things worse! [GM] It got some attention, it seems! [Joey] EHhhhhhhhh, [Sammy] Yeah, he was doing his nonsense, and then the Phantom showed up because he was doing his nonsense -- [Joey] ehhhhhhhhhhh [Sammy] And then we hit the Phantom with Jack's car! A rational and reasonable response to the unknowable. [Jack] Joey MADE Jack hit the Phantom with his car. [Joey] EHHHHHHHHH, [Jack] Because Jack wouldn't do this on purpose. He likes his car! [Sammy] I think that's entirely reasonable. No reasonable person would have done this course of events.

[Sammy] What happens if you drive a car in Carcosa [Sammy] It's in the name, it should be a good place for cars... [Jack] It actually cancels out because there's two of them, so you just get "Cosa."

[Joey] One of the times, the Mercedes is going to be missing and it's not because of Yellow Sign stuff, it's just that someone finally stole it. [Sammy] Car gets its tires slashed, "THIS IS THE WORK OF THE YELLOW KING!!!"

[Jack] Even if it's safety glass, I feel like Jack doesn't want to sit in a bunch of glass! [Henry] Exfoliation. [Jack] ON HIS BUTT????

[Joey] Just venting about everything that has been happening, but it's clearly all this other guy's fault? [Sammy] I love Joey having no particular distinction between "annoying person who's getting in the way of me making cartoons" and "eldritch entity" - WHICH IS THE SAME THING, it's just an annoying person who's getting in the way of making cartoons! [Joey] YEAH!!

[Sammy] Jack struck me as someone who'd be a cautious driver. [GM] And he let Sammy drive his car?!

[Joey] It's taking Joey a little longer to finish his ritual, because he keeps getting angry and ranting more, [Sammy] "*draws one line* AND ANOTHER THING--!"

[GM] Avedon says you need to watch out for each other, because something's already messing with Norman -- [Joey] what, wAIT-- WHAT? [GM] --and he needs you guys to come find him, he's at this hotel, and he thinks he knows how to destroy the Phantom. [Joey] Have you called Norman? [GM] He says, "Where do you think I got this number?" And then he hangs up. [Joey] .................................................................. [Sammy/Jack/Henry] *IMMEDIATELY LOSING IT* [Jack] *still cracking up* H-how, how mad is Joey right now, [Joey] ...........................I need to look something up.

[Joey] I know way too much about, the history of phone technologies now, [Sammy] This game is educational. Nobody tells you that.

[Joey] What is up with your crazy friend?! [Norman] You're going to have to be more specific.

[Joey] Wait, DID you get a call from Avedon? [GM] Norman says that he got word from The Advisor earlier. [Jack].... Hm. [Sammy] Norman??????? [Joey] ...iS SUSIE STILL THERE, [GM] Uh, yeah! He hands over the phone. [Joey] IS SHE NORMAL????????????????? [GM] She likes to think so!

[Joey] Nobody's going to let Peter choose his own methods of communication, he just gets to RECEIVE [Sammy] Look! He was warned!!

[GM] Peter's glancing at Jack like, is this concerning? [Jack] Well Jack looks CONCERNED, but he's not concerned about this, specifically. This is refreshingly normal.

[Sammy] And the Traitor mercifully absent! [Jack] I know you said "traitor", but I heard "trader," like no that's a different AU, [Joey] Oh good. No Wandering Traders. [everyone makes villager "Hrrrm" noises] [Sammy] Prophet's ALSO murdering llamas for leads, [Jack] I mean, we could do with a lead about now! I don't know if we have any other than Avedon. [Joey] *uncontrollably giggling at this joke for the next 15 seconds* [Sammy] Oh boy, [Joey] *still giggling* iT WAS A REALLY gOOD ONE,,,

[Joey] Does Jack's car look any different to Henry? [Jack] Well there's a weird splat mark in the shape of a guy,

[Sammy] Be vigilant! His will can overtake your own. [Henry] Hm,,, you too,

[GM] Does anyone want to do a summary of where we were at? [Jack] I have an extremely short summary: [Jack] Shit's Fucked.

[Sammy] Avedon told us to meet him because THE WORLD IS IN PERIL [Sammy] which, I think it's really important to remember that Avedon is French, when you imagine him saying the word "peril." That's all.

[Sammy] It's not TOO late to visit people, but it is maybe an awkward time to-- [Jack] When has awkward timing EVER stopped this-- [Sammy] NEVER. It's never stopped us. [Henry] I think it would be weirder if we arrived at an opportune time, at this point! [Joey] It IS a great time for a snake to show up, I feel like. [Sammy] That's true. It's never a wrong time for a snake to show up, honestly.

[Joey] Enough time has passed that Joey will come out to the parking lot. [Sammy] I really thought you were gonna say "come out to the party" [Jack] Joey's coming out? [GM] *laughing* I think they already know!

[Joey] Also, Norman has started acting very weird. [Henry] How? [Joey] You know how, sometimes people start saying things, in situations like this, where they think... [Joey]...yOU KNOW HOW PROPHET DESCRIBES PEOPLE?

[Jack] I can't believe you're splitting up the boyfriends! [Jack] ...as compared to the other boyfriends, [Sammy] I feel like it's really hard to split this party without splitting up some boyfriends somewhere.

[GM] Jack doesn't want to drive and Sammy doesn't know where he's going - ✨TEAMWORK!✨ :D

[Jack] You go through all of Henry's coats and none of them are familiar, and they're all extremely stylish [Henry] That's not Carcosa, that's Joey.

[Jack] Oh no, his accent's Italian now! [Sammy] That's just what happens when you come to New York.

[GM] Make a sanity check. [Henry] For looking at a clarinet???

[Henry] Henry is... maybe taking a closer look out the window. [Sammy] I support him. I'm not there, but I support him-- [Henry] Then, yeah, I'm gonna say he's doing that! [Sammy] --from afar, where I suffer no consequences.

[Henry] Henry has his hand on his gun. [Henry] ...he knows that he can't, like, SHOOT CARCOSA, but, [Jack] Carcosa's haunted.

[Joey] I actually succeeded the luck check! [Sammy] Congratulations, that's a feat for Joey! [Jack] It's his natural talent.

[Henry] I wish I had the words to describe the face Henry is making. [Henry] If Scared and Defeated had a baby.

[GM] Avedon turns around, looking wild-eyed behind his glasses, and says, because he is the master of smart things, "We need to get out of here!" [Joey] NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!

[GM] In fact, you think you hear conspiratorial whispering in the distance! [Henry] But our conspiratorial whisperer is accounted for...

[Joey] Joey's just going to march up behind them and ask what's going on. [GM] They are both going to jump to their feet, and bow, actually, [Sammy] Um. [Jack] Hmmmm. [Sammy] UM. [GM] and say, "we were just dealing with matters of State, Your Highness." [Joey] [Joey] *quiet giggling* [Jack] Oh no. [Sammy] Joey doesn't need this. Joey doesn't need this. [Jack] His ego's already so big!!

[Sammy] You're going to open the door and the Phantom's gonna be standing there. [Henry] "Want some weed?"

[Joey] Avedon can stay with Norman. They're friends. [Sammy] I don't-- we'll see how Norman is. [Joey] I mean, I don't think, no matter what, that Norman can be weirder than Avedon?

[GM] You can make a psychology roll, if you want! [Sammy] OKAY, we'll see, I'm not holding out a lot of hope on Sammy getting this-- [Sammy] *rolls* ....WELL. That is... an extreme success. I rolled a TWO. [Jack] Are we sure SAMMY hasn't been replaced? [Joey] Has Shazz been replaced? [Jack] Have Shazz's dice been replaced????

[Jack] Jack is probably trying to get... any.... information out of Norman, [Sammy] Sorry, I left you the hard mode one. [Joey] Kiss him!!

[nervoussystemss]

Not a prompt!

Part 1

The hero had no clue of the time or the hour, nor how much time had passed since the villain had left. All they felt was dizzy and disoriented, and they gulped in labored breaths.

They blacked out for a second time.

"Oh, God, I hope I didn't break you." The villain's voice sounded far away. Unsurprisingly, they didn't sound the least bit concerned.

The hero didn't want to open their eyes to see the world upside down again, but still, what other choice did they have? They cracked one eye open, and the world really was no longer upside down, but... "What is this?"

"I strapped you to a wheel. More specifically, one that spins. You know, like in... I don't know, jeopardy?" The villain joked, itching at the back of their neck. "I don't know. I don't keep up with game shows too often."

"I'm pretty sure jeopardy doesn't have a spinning wheel." They really did not like the look in the villain's eyes.

"Ah, well, no matter. It does now." There was a whirring sound, and along the opposite wall, a set of knives was revealed, all aimed at the hero.

Their eyes bugged out. "What... uh, what exactly is that?"

"Oh, well, it's simple!" they beamed proudly. "I made this game up myself! Me as host, of course. I press that red button over there and knives shoot at you! Isn't it great?" The hero opened their mouth to speak, but the villain didn't let them get a peep in. "And! What's better is I can spin the wheel while the knives shoot at you, so it's only a 50/50 chance one'll nick you!"

"You have to be insane. There's no other possible reason why you're doing this." The hero needed to stay calm, but damn it, it was hard. Still, it didn't stop them from trying to snark back. "I'm going to need you to check yourself in to the nearest mental hospital stat."

"Well, that depends. Me being 'insane' and going through with this, I mean," they grinned. "Are you going to answer my questions and give me what I want?"

Lightbulb. Of course they weren't fully insane. They wanted something. Of course they did. "What do you want?"

"To figure out how you work." They shrugged. "Or, more specifically, how you're immortal."

"How come?"

The villain raised a brow. Waited for them to connect the dots.

"Oh God. Oh no. No, absolutely not. Immortality is a—"

"If you say curse, I will press that button right now and one of the knives will most likely lodge itself somewhere inside your body, and then I probably won't even get you medical attention because you're immortal, but you'll be in pain and suffer and there will just be blood everywhere and it'll be super messy and I'd really rather not clean that up because blood makes me queasy and not to mention it's difficult to get blood off concrete, or at least I think it is, plus—"

"Why would you even want to be immortal?" the hero snapped, cutting the other off.

"Hellooo? What sane person wouldn't?" They grinned, eyes alight with what seemed like mania. "Never being able to die sounds like a dream come true for me. Outliving your enemies. Seeing the world change. Being able to cause havoc and discord and whatnot without fearing death."

"Immortality in the wrong hands is dangerous."

"And I assume you're the right hands." Their tone turned slightly annoyed.

"I am the right hands."

"Mm. Sure you are, for now." They took a step closer, examining their wary eyes. "But do tell me, what happens when you reach a thousand? A million? You think you'll have your morality intact?"

The hero's jaw clenched. They leaned forward as best they could while being strapped to the wheel, glaring into the villain's eyes, and, "I think I'll still be better than you."

A flicker of surprise was shown in the villain's eyes, but other than that, no reaction was given. Then they exhaled slowly. Jaw muscles tightened. A slightly forced smile. The wheel began to slowly spin as they made their way towards the red button. Despite their irritation, they were still going to enjoy this. They'd get what they wanted one way or another. "Have it your way."

They slammed a hand on the button.

[manicrouge]

Liar

[𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 29/12/23

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Keegan lies to you the night you meet yet you remain oblivious to it until you bring it up to him again.

[𝙲𝚠]: angst i guess but it's not that bad.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 4,533

[𝙰/𝙽]: I had plans for this but I really don't have the motivation to finish it, but considering it's quite a few words I didn't want it to go to waste- there's no smut, apologies, but smut isn't really something I'm overly passionate about so I hope that this fluff is good enough to suffice !!

ENJOY !!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's something about him and you're not sure if you should really speak on it because then, ultimately, your delusion is in the real world and not confined to your head. It's torture though, it really is, the constant headache of worrying about how you look and what you're doing when you're around him, and still, you can't seem to snap about it. 

There's a limit to love, you've agreed to that inwardly. Some things you do in the name of love are okay: buying them something just because it reminds you of them, getting them something when they're too busy to get it for themselves, asking them out and asking them if they would like to accompany you on a date somewhere in the city. 

That's normal for love, it something you imagine most people do. 

But then there's your tricky little mind and it seems to kick and scream at the thought of doing something sane in the name of love. You don't want to do any of those things, you don't want to be nice. It's obvious, at least, you think it is. 

He makes you a violent person. 

Perhaps its because you want to show off, you want to him to see you and admire that you did everything he wants from you and much more. When you were just a rookie, you're quite sure you were close to being kicked out, being forced to resume life the way you had prior to them finding you on the side of the road after ODIN had been attacked.

The very thought, even to this day, makes you nauseous. Facing the unbearable heat, soldiers and starvation is a recipe for disaster, and after going without food for however long you did, you had sworn you weren't going to let anything compromise that. But things were overwhelming and you were essentially a burden during the first few months of your training; you couldn't do anything right. 

But he saw you at your lowest, and he didn't let that happen. In fact, you're quite sure he saved you when you met that night. 

'Crying won't get you anywhere, kid.'

If there was one thing about Keegan, he was absolutely right about everything. Including that. 

Pushing your head up from out of your lap, you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you catch a set of blue eyes staring at you. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, a mask covering his features, beanie atop his head as he approaches you, kicking a stone beside you. You turn your head away from him and watch as the little rock rolls down the edge of the hill in the direction of the track. 

'You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago,' he adds, taking a seat beside you. You keep your eyes trained on the direction the stone had slipped, keeping your arms wrapped around your knees before resting your chin upon them. 'You'd get into trouble if one of the superiors caught you outside.'

'I'm no good anyway,' you said, 'better going out this way than any other way.'

Your tone was bleak as you contemplated throwing yourself down the hill. It wouldn't have killed you, but it would free you from the shame of having to speak to the man sitting beside you. 'They're gonna get rid of me soon, throw me to the wolves.'

There wasn't a reply from the man sitting beside you for a while as he shifted where he was sitting. You hear the tear of velcro and finally decided to turn your head to see him holding a box of cigarettes in his hand.

'When I was first starting out,' he began, 'couldn't shoot a sniper for the fuckin' life of me,' he continued, plucking a cigarette from the carton. Bringing his hand up, he hooked his fingers under the edges of his mask, pulling it up, revealing his jaw and lips. 

Much to your surprise, you spied black stubble around his mouth and trailing his jawline. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he grabbed the lighter from the box. Cupping his hand around his mouth, It took a moment, the item in his hand spluttering before eventually spitting a full enough flame for him to light his cigarette. 'I could shoot every other gun okayish, but I wasn't the asset they needed me to be.'

'Don't believe you,' you mumble, looking at the pattern on his mask. You recalled the white markings to belong to a particular unit that even the General had trouble addressing. They did their own thing, stayed out of everyone else's way. 'You're a Ghost, aren't you? Best of the best.'

You don't look at a Ghost unless they talk to you. 

'The mask?' he asked, 'part of the branding, forget I have it on half the time,' he admits, taking a puff from his cigarette. 'Everyone has to start somewhere, kid.'

'I've been here for months and I'm still awful at everything,' you confessed, 'I can't shoot a gun for the fuckin' life of me; my aim is off and I can never seem to focus.'

'If you think about it too much, you'll struggle,' he said. 

'A- And, I can't do close combat- I've been to the infirmary more times than I can count... whenever I go to the nurse now, she doesn't even speak to me,' you rambled, running your hand through your hair. Your throat starts to clog up as you continued to pour your heart out to the man sitting beside you. You couldn't really seem to help it; he was there, and from what you could tell, he wasn't discouraging your fury.

Rules had it that your hair was supposed to be slicked back out of your face and tied up, but after the day you had had, you couldn't muster the strength to keep it tied up. So, after you had had a shower, you kept it out to keep the dull ache in your head away for as long as you could.

You were surprised the man beside you hadn't said anything to you about it. Only, when it's out of your way, you found it easier to keep your hands from plucking and picking at your scalp whenever the anxiety got too much and you were scared you were going to drown in a well of your own tears.

'You're too stressed about everything,' he said, 'if you overthink it, like I said, you're gonna fuck it up. What's got you so stressed, kid?' he asked, looking at you. Your eyes water as you turn your head away from him, letting out a shaky exhale. 

A better question would have been what wasn't stressing you out. 

'Hey, don't shut down on me, tell me what's wrong... can't promise I'll be much help, but it's good to have someone to talk to,'  he said, 'talk at me, tell me what's wrong,' he demanded, as though he was some form of saviour.

Only, in that moment, he was.

'They're gonna throw me out if I can't be what they want me to be,' you were much too choked up to fight against the urge of spilling your guts to the Ghost, your grip around your knees growing tighter as you began to shake. 'And I can't go back out there; if I go back out there, 'm gonna die, I know I am,' you sniffled, 'a- and I can't die, especially not out there with those monsters I can't but I'm going to if I don't get better but I don't think I can get better and- and—'

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you to his side.

You were startled at first, feeling his gloved hand on your shoulder, being pulled close enough for your senses to be flooded with his cologne. Ghost's weren't supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be aloof, transparent, careless. Yet, as he held you, you found your trembling nerves were soothed with his efforts.

The cigarette on his breath stained the moment, and when you opened your eyes, you found that he had tossed the cigarette down the same hill that the little rock he had kicked had rolled down, the red hue of the burning tip settling into the darkness while winking at you.

'You're not gonna get thrown out, kid,' he quietly said, 'it's been a tough change, I know it has been, but you can't let it get to you because, if you do, the stress is gonna kill you before anything beyond this base gets to you, hm?' he asked, looking at you.

You looked back at him, thinking back to that morning where you had pulled out a small clump of hair from the your head. You'd spent the next hour crying over it, and whittled yourself so far down that you'd convinced yourself you were going to die.

Everything lead to the thought of death with you. You couldn't escape it. The devil caged you and he trapped you, laughing in your face as he dangled your very livelihood before you.

And still you failed.

'How do you know that?' you asked, 'you think some sort of miracles going to happen?' you continued.

'I'm going to teach you,' he said, 'I'll give you a helping hand; wanna see if you're as useless as you're saying you are or if you're just overcomplicating everything.'

'You don't have the time to do that, at this point I'm gonna be 90 but the time I manage to land a hit on someone in training.'

'And how do you know that?' he asked, 'you my Captain?'

You stared at him, the sudden shift in his tone causing your face to heat up.

'You'd be wasting you time with me,' you said, shaking your head, attempting to pull away from him, all for his grip on you to tighten.

He wasn't going to let you pull away from him, especially while in the state you were in. You'd curse him if you didn't feel so secure in his arms, so, you simply give in to the urge of staying close to him, not allowing your ego to destroy the first ounce of comfort you had gotten since arriving on the base.

'Wasting time here with you now; could be in bed,' he stated simply, 'I'll speak to someone, get you put under my supervision until I'm sure you'll be fine returning to your brigade.'

'Are you allowed to do that?' you asked.

'Captains in your department barely look at me, kid,' he chuckled, ''scared I'm gonna bash the brains in with the butt of my gun or somethin'. They won't turn down my request- especially if you're as much as a burden as you're sayin' you are; they'd be happy to get you off their hands if that's the case, not that they'd refuse me in the first place.'

He spoke to you as though you were a friend, but you regarded his support as treating you most likely as a lesson; the men your department had little interest in showing a woman how to fight, perhaps that was why you were struggling so much. No one really wanted to give you the time of day, and in a path where it was either sink or swim, you found their actions were taxing.

It was blatant that the men you worked with had little interest in you, and you're clued up enough now to know that. Yet, deep down, you're sure you've always been conscious to their biases towards male soldiers, only, now, you say it without fear of being reprimanded for your supposed 'accusation'. They can't do shit to you anymore and you're thankful for it, because, in the end, if they even look in your direction, you'd have no issue bashing their brains in with the butt of the pistol in the holster on your thigh.

Recently, you find you've been going back to that night where you had been in tears, mostly while by yourself, whether it be at the base or elsewhere, you were focused on that pesky little memory which lead to your stomach pulsing in a sickly manner as you recall the feel of his hand resting on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne.

Little has changed- if anything.

Only, he's a little taller than he was when you first started training together. His height has him towering over you now, and you always laugh about it to yourself whenever your sparring with each other- especially when you're able to put him on his ass.

There's confusion surrounding the memory in your mind, you have mostly forgotten about it until one day, it reappeared. You're unsure what triggered the memories resurgence, and you review it with a sinful glint in your eyes, even with the lack of suggestiveness about the scene.

There's something there that makes you want to scream, that makes you want to cover the world in blood, and you have been fighting with yourself attempting to unwind the memory, unwrap the secrecy of its meaning which it is rejoicing in while you're suffering.

—

The next op leads you to No Mans Land, Elias has sent his sons there with the intent of helping you track down Ajax. You're familiar with the tactics and intent between sending his two boys out there, though none of you really comment or acknowledge the possibility of your squad growing with two members, and supposedly a dog. You're happy to do the work he assigned his boys with yourself; it would be nothing but a quick in and out, especially with the looming time between Ajax's kidnapping and where you find yourself right now.

It's been weeks and you're still no closer to getting him back and you find, while peering through your scope, searching for any sign of the Walker boys, you're gritting your teeth as you contemplate the damage it's doing to Keegan. Both of them are good friends, been together since day one.

But there's nothing you can do; one wrong move and Ajax will be gone forever, and you're not selfish enough to put the life of a friend on the line. You'd put yours on the line before you even dare to put someone else's out for your own greedy intent.

The Federation are like dogs, and as soon as they catch a whiff of Ghost blood, they'll have their feral little backs up, huffing, puffing and growing, impersonating that of a wolf, when, in reality, they're nothing of the sorts. Instead, the puny little pups who cower at the sight of their own shadow... or Rorke. But neither of them are very different from one another.

'You catch anything, kid?' Keegan calls through coms.

Looking down from your position, you catch the man standing below you, Merrick surveying the surrounding area as you hold your sniper up, keeping your eyes on the terrain surrounding you.

You're a fair distance away from where the Walker boys were sent by Elias, ensuring the area is clean for when they eventually make their way to the meet up spot.

'Negative,' you respond, pulling your scope away from your face, 'clear,' you say, 'they're all hauled up at the camp the Walker boys are goin' to- that's my bet anyway,' you say, hooking your arm through the strap on your sniper, carefully making your way down from the tree.

Setting on a curve in the tree, you look down at the ground, shuffling off while keeping hold of a branch. With a grunt, you push yourself off of it, landing on the ground with ease.

'Stalker-Six, this is Viking Actual, we are en route to the target location, how copy?' you perk your ears up, while you busy yourself with grabbing your canteen off of your belt, frowning when you're greeted with a distinct lightness. During the walk up to the scope point, you're quite sure you were only sipping at it. 'We are en route to target location location, how copy?'

A step closer to getting Ajax back.

Hooking you canteen back onto your vest, you lift your head to see Keegan holding his own out to you, 'you drink like it's goin' out of fuckin' fashion, kid,' he remarks, letting go of it as you grab it out of his hands. Unscrewing the lid, he watches you, 'just don't finish it all; can't drink any of the water around here and we don't know how long they're going to be.'

'Solid copy, viking,' Merrick responds, 'be advised, recent reports indicate a lot of enemy movement in that area. We're on a schedule here, so get that intel and get out fast,' he continues. Both you and Keegan listen, and you take two sips of water from his canteen with his narrowed gaze on you before relenting, giving him the bottle back. 'See?'

'Roger that.'

'You're the one with an empty canteen, princess,' he answers, snatching it off of you, putting it back onto his belt. 'We best continue to move up from this position; we're too far out to meet them,' he says, looking to Merrick who hums, 'we're clear to proceed—'

He's crudely cut off by a distant rumble, the shudder resulting in the wind picking up pace, a crows cried out in the distance.

The collateral damage done to the world since ODIN was ripped from the States has been catastrophic, and every now and again, you observe your surroundings with a reservation set for when you make it back to the base; you don't have time to contemplate and wallow in your sorrows, rather, you simply have to get on with it, just as Keegan does as he opens his mouth to speak again.

'Whole place is gonna be swallowed soon,' he sighs, turning to look down the path.

Merrick proceeds forward without another word, intent on keeping on the schedule he has planned out since hearing word from Elias requesting you're there to meet the boys for the information.

Keegan takes a small step before stopping looking over his shoulder at you, 'c'mon, kid, burning daylight,' he says, motioning his head in the direction of Merrick who has already began to trail the path down, 'and water too,' he chuckles, picking up the pace.

It takes a moment to realise why he's suddenly hot on his feet, his sudden shift in mood causing your heart to murmur as you finally see some form of happiness on his face.

You're a second away from smiling at him, and then his comment strikes you like a blunt blade and you grumble out a curse, following after the two men with a huffing breath and curse

—

'Stalker Six, we got something here, looks like they're digging through some sort of wreckage.'

After a few minutes of silence and trivesing through the remains of the wild life in the rotting area, you're greeted with the voice of the same Walker boy who has been doing all the talking.

You're familiar with his name, Hesh. Although, as you're walking beside Keegan, you find the name of the other one escapes you. It doesn't help that he certainly is not one for words.

The comment he makes has all three of you sharing a look, unable to muster any form of response. Despite the urge to speak, you remain quiet, watching as Merrick's brow furrows, rubbing his masked mouth with his hand. 'What do you mean? What kind of wreckage?'

It could be anything and you've learned, over the years, that nothing should surprise you anymore. Hell, even if aliens greet the remnants of Earth tomorrow, you're convinced you'll barely bat an eye to it; it's simply just another day on the job.

'Not sure. It's guarded, but we're gonna push through.'

It's good to know the boys share the same determination as their father, though, the mysterious wreckage works to cause your brow to wrinkle as you contemplate what exactly they're up to now. 'Do they ever have a fuckin' off day?' you ask.

'Negative,' Merrick retorts, 'enemy always has to be doin' something, was the same in the Second World War and it's the same in this one too. You let the enemy loose for a moment of shut eye, they'll dig your grave and put you in it by the time you wake up again,' he continues, his tone gruff as you watch his back.

It's difficult to miss the gunshots the further the Walker boys push into No Man's Land, and you find your hand hovering about the pistol in your holster just to make sure nothing and no one will pounce on you.

While proceeding to the meet up spot, you busy yourself with the thought of Merrick's words, while keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of moment. Nothing is going to get past you, and if it does, you're thankful you have the watchful eye of Keegan located at your side.

It's difficult to even think of him never being as capable as he is today, and when you glance at him, you find your mind falling back to the night once again.

There's something in your chest that flutters at the thought of his care towards you from the night you met all away to right in this moment; Keegan always has your back.

And you always have his... only because of his training, of course.

He catches your look almost immediately and you catch his face shifting beneath his mask.

'What?' he asks, 'something on my face?' he asks, clearly amused.

You say nothing for a moment, looking in Merrick's direction to see the man is a fair distance away from the pair of you.

'You remember how we met, right?' you ask, to which he nods his head, keeping his eyes surveying the area. 'When we met, you said you were a shit shot and—'

You stop when you catch Merrick looking at Keegan with a raised eyebrow. Typically, the man kept his nose out of the conversations the pair of you have; there's nothing in there for him to really understand, only bothering to join the debate when it is of importance.

In fact, he remarked that, before meeting you, Keegan was quiet- and he still is, in your humble opinion, yet, apparently his short and witty replies to your comments render all the Ghosts shocked.

The pair of them share a look, and you catch it. It's subtle, you'll give them that, but it's notable enough for you to let out a short laugh.

'What?' you slowly say.

Keegan takes a breath, turning his attention to you. He's grinning beneath the mask.

'You wanna know the truth?' he asks.

Your eyes narrow.

'What truth?'

'I lied to you when we first met,' he says.

It's as though a bullet is fired into your stomach as you look at the man in front of you. He's unmoved by his confession, carrying on as though he has said nothing to you.

'You lied to me? About what?' you ask.

Maybe it was about the fact that he really wanted to take you under his wing, maybe he was full of shit about that- what if it was a funny dare or something? You'd take the pistol out of the holster and blow your brains out if such is the case.

His calmness is insulting as he looks at you.

'Saying I was a shit shot, I'm a liar,' he says, and despite the match, you can see him smiling under it, 'was one of the best in my squad, that's how I got the attention of Elias in the first place.'

'W- Why would you lie about that?' you ask.

Your entire life seems to be a lie in a moment of overdramatic reflection.

'Because you looked like you needed someone to relate to,' he shrugs, as though it's something that means little. 'I didn't want to make you feel like you had no one there,' he says, 'the people in the squad you were in when I met were unforgiving to you, kid; they expected perfection from the minute you joined and you were capable of that because you need help and—'

'I needed you,' you state, not caring for any excuse he'd muster up.

Beneath his mask, you note the smile on his face as he nods his head.

'You said it yourself,' he chuckles.

'Didn't think you'd risk your own price to do somethin' nice,' Merrick butts in, 'suppose you did the right thing though, got one of the strongest fighters on our squad through a lie.'

Your cheeks redden at the compliment and you rub your face with your gloved hand.

'Was all worth it in the end,' Keegan shrugs.

As you push forward, per the command of Merrick, your heartbeat is ringing in your ears- it's pathetic really; you feel like a fucking high schooler as your thoughts are swarmed with the very thought that, even upon meeting you, he cared enough about you to lie to you.

You know him well enough to know that despite his quiet nature in the face of opposition and those who he doesn't know, he's a prideful man and he takes pride in his work and abilities. His confidence, while at times annoying, is something you wouldn't change in the world. His confidence keeps you alive and his confidence is the very reason you're standing beside him and fighting beside him.

After a while of silence, you look at him and nudge him with your elbow.

'Thanks for lying to me,' you say.

'You're welcome,' he answers, looking at you, 'all you needed to have was a little bit a of help- somethin' they weren't ever going to give you.'

'Why did you even approach me in the first place?'

He turns away from you for a moment, sucking in a breath. That glowing confidence seems to disappear for a moment, but after a brief second of collecting himself, he turns back to you.

'I thought you were pretty.'

You're winded, and not by the walk.

'I was a crying, snotty mess,' you blurt out, to which he rolls his eyes.

'I'd seen you around the base, and you only started crying when I starting talking to you properly. But, even if you're a crying snotty mess or not, it doesn't matter to me, kid,' he says, 'you looked pretty.'

You bite your lip, turning away from him. Unfortunately, you lack what he has in abundance. He doesn't say anything further as the you proceed to the meeting spot, instead, he slips his hand into yours, tightly squeezing it.

It's short and brief as he soon lets go at the sound of a barking dogs, although, before the pair of you jump back into action, you both offer. each other a knowing look as you prepare to paint the world red; you know his eyes are on you.

We'll talk about this later.

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @iizx7y @phantomreadsandreblogs

[20001541]

What do you think being in prison was actually like for All For One? We know he lies A LOT, so I don't think he's nearly as unaffected as he's shown or rather not shown I guess 😓

Thinking deeper on afo's imprisonment it's actually a lot more disturbing the more I think about it.

What afo is going through is basically solitary confinement 24/7. Guns constantly pointed at him ready to headshot him the second he tries tapping into his quirk or squirms too much. Unable to move at all from the neck down due to restraints. So many sensors it leaves him either completely vulnerable or overstimulated at worst. We never see him lying down either. He's always sitting which is painfull and extremely detrimental to a person's health and mobility if done for long hours without standing up.

I know he's an S rank criminal and super dangerous because the only person who could defeat him (All Might) retired, but you're telling me this futuristic society couldn't do anything more humane with all that tech other than shoving him into a death trap? (I wanted to call it a Saw death trap, but I never watched any of the Saw films ummm)

There's also the more creepy implication to questions like how does afo go to the bathroom in Tartarus. There's no way they just let him walk up to a toilet/urinal 😨

All For One is no stranger to dehumanization and he takes almost everything in stride even Tartarus from the looks of it, but that one panel where he almost begs All Might to not go always stuck out to me.

Sorry for the long essay. I just wanted to say something about this and chat with a fellow All For One fan.

you don't need to apologize, it's an interesting topic!

I think afo's time in prison affected him more deeply than he would ever admit. look how they had him ->

strapped to a metal slab, not being able to move his limbs at all, alone for hours constantly being watched and he doesn't have access to his quirks that allow him to navigate the world so he's completely blind here. oh let's not forget that if he thinks about activating a quirk or makes a sudden movement the guns pointed at his head will automatically shoot him. also like you said being in a sitting position for a long period of time will end up being detrimental to your health.

tartarus whole existence is a violation of human rights and that's without mentioning the disgusting way the guards treat the prisoners. yes they did evil things, but I think dehumanization of any group of people is a dangerous road to walk on and can lead to horrific things committed against said group because it's easier to justify doing horrid things to others if you think the other party isn't even human. with all the amazing quirks and technology that is available it's a surprise to see that they haven't come up with a better way to deal with imprisoned villains. maybe it's because they don't care to come up with a better solution because once again they don't see them as humans so why should they bother trying to make their living situation more bearable? awful stuff.

too bad we don't see anyone from our main cast really question this type of treatment, but oh well. I guess it's implied some things did change as we see spinner was allowed to write and publish a book while in prison (doubt they let him free to do it). so he's not strapped to a metal chair all day like the other prisoners we saw. unless he's getting some special treatment, I don't know the story doesn't really tell us about what happened with him after his confrontation with izuku. only shows us that he managed to publish his book.

BUT back to the main question, what was being in prison in like for afo? honestly, I think he had to fight to stay sane while down there. being in those conditions for a long period of time will wear down your sanity. you saw how desperate he was for all might to stay and talk with him despite him being someone he hates. probably the thought of getting yoichi back kept him going, after all when he's down there he gets excited when he's able to hear his voice for the first time in over a century. even the guards freaked out because his the monitor tracking his vitals went crazy when he heard it.

still I think the whole experience disturbs him more than he would ever admit and it was traumatic but he just shoves down in order to focus on the goal ahead of him. no time to process any of that he's got a brother to catch

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

AI Bracket — Third Place

Propaganda

SAYER (SAYER):

PLEASE it is like. THE ai podcast. and SAYER is THE ai in THE ai podcast. SAYER works as like. a broadcast inside everyone's head on this one asteroid. It does its best to keep people alive and sane not because it cares but because it is efficient. They people who own SAYER wanted to replace SAYER with a newer ai that they tried to raise like a child. So SAYER proceeded to fuck up said child ai's development and led to it becoming a murderer. pleasepleaseplease watch SAYER if you are a podcast ai fan.

I once saw a post that said it's like if an old gay English professor was evil

SAYER (it/its pronouns) is a highly advanced self-aware ai developed by Ærolith Dynamics. it manages the day-to-day lives of Ærolith employees on Typhon, an asteroid turned research facility. it is rude and condescending, but has a very pleasant and soothing voice

Sayer sweep Sayer sweep Sayer sweep please please please

Guys think about it this way: SAYER got emotions and it's first feeling was rage towards someone for not helping it. It's annoyance was how it realized it had emotions, isn't that so cool. You should totally vote SAYER (I'm not an ærolith propaganda agent trust)

#like idk the other character but its not Best podcast character its Sexiest podcast character. #and sayer is giving you come now gif tumblr sexymxn (gender neutral). #its giving stanley parable. its asmr-ing you down the tight hallway #you cant move your head so you will have to rely on me. very good.#its a mean voice that reads your every body response directs every aspect of ur life and orders you around what more do you people WAN- #Omg. that was aerolith dynamics on the phone. they said it gains the ability to puppet human bodies rattatouille style in later seasons 😳😳 #THE POINT IS ITS LIKE CARTOONISHLY AND EMBARASSINGLY SEXY. IT SHOULD WIN. (Mod Note: This poll is Who is the better AI? not "Who is sexier?".)

#please vote sayer because nothing good happens when sayer thinks another ai is surpassing it .

#i LOVE hera but i feel i have to vote sayer because like. it’s MY evil bastard ai #mx ‘remember: Needs Improvement’ itself #what an asshole (<3)

#agfjdlj i Know that wolf is a far more popular podcast (even though I've never listened to it) #but this feeling like an injustice to Sayer #its so weird and off-putting and it exercises this fact gleefully #its got the world's most toxic situationship with resident hale #the condescension is genuinely part of its charm #also 'pleasent and soothing' are not the words I'd use to describe its voice #(the words I'd use are Insanely Fucking Sexy) #also it/its rep. even if it is an insane AI i love it so much (Mod Note: This was written when SAYER was against Hera, not Eris.)

Eris (Wolf 359):

Basically a game show host but crueller. She puts you through psychological torment as a bonding exercise with your crew, and at the end you have to shoot her with a real actual gun. She is projected directly into your mind by interfacing with your nervous system and she will do something messed up. Her most recent iteration got blasted into space. Personally, I think she's lovely

A VR entity designed to do chaos psychological horror torture tests on Goddard employees. She's not malicious; that's simply her job. It's how she was made. (Maybe she can grow.)

She was in just one episode but so fucking interesting, evil/malicious AI. also a lesbian. Was shot the secound she became a bit too self aware

Art of SAYER by @j4y5t4g.

[malarkgirlypop]

Green-eyed Monster (Ron Speirs x GN!Reader)

HEY! HEY! Sorry for this taking so long, she's a busy gal. But this is for @kafka-ohdear who asked for a jealousy story, and boy oh boy he was a bit jealous. This was so fun to write. I thought it would be the most fun to make Mr. Speirs jealous. Cause he just wears jealousy so well. It got a bit steamy, so I hope you like it. Anyway as per usual this is based off the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the men who served.

Ronald Speirs was a calm man. He thought of himself as composed and coolheaded. These traits made him a good leader. He was able to handle any situation thrown at him. Like in Foy when he had been made to take over the assault that Lieutenant Dike had been butchering to then be made CO. But one person made his calmness dissipate. Ron couldn’t put his finger on why the private had wound him up so much. Maybe it was their carefree attitude, they were in the middle of the war but still found a way to be chipper and brighten up the rest of the men. Or maybe it was the way they carelessly flirted with every soldier they came across, did they know they were doing it or was it unconscious. Maybe he was jealous at how easily they talked to everyone and opened up to them with their infectious personality. Everyone seemed to hang off their every word. Now as they sat in Hitler’s Eagles Nest Ron watched Y/N entertain the men with their stories. 

“And then she dropped it and it went everywhere!” Y/N finishes their story as the soldier’s roared with laughter. “Thank you, thank you I will be here all week.” Y/N bows, pretending to receive applause. Y/N reaches forward picking up the bottle of wine they had placed on the floor before they had stood up to give a dramatic reenactment of the story. Y/N sips from the wine, still standing, their eyes scanning over the room. Y/N’s eyes fall on the soldier sitting in the corner of the hall, Winters and Nixon sitting close to the men but he doesn’t involve himself in their conversation. Ron’s eyes are fixed on Y/N, not averting his gaze. They seem to stare at each other, waiting for the other to pull their focus. Y/N tilts their head as they regard the man as he mirrors their actions. They sip from their wine, finally turning their attention back to the group of rowdy Easy company men that sat in front of them. Y/N sat next to George trying to focus on the conversation he was having with Lieb but their mind wandered to the solitary soldier drinking across the room from them.

Ron had only become CO a couple months prior, but he had been around before that. Ron was in Dog company originally. Y/N had only seen him a handful of times but had heard many things about the infamous Captain Speirs. Ronald had quite the reputation, many soldiers in the company being scared shitless of the ruthless man. A rumour or two had spread at the beginning of the war right after D-day, that Speirs had given a group of POW’s cigarettes only to shoot them all dead after they had lit them. However this was just gossip, only one person had claimed to see the event, and from there the story had become more exaggerated. People said he shot 8 and then the next Y/N had heard the story Ron had killed 20 odd men. Y/N didn’t believe all the tall tales told about the Captain but had kept him at arm's length. Though he was stunningly handsome, he was cold and calculated. He was curt and stubborn, all the things that Y/N was not. Known in Easy company as the flirt and entertainment along with Luz. Luz and Y/N had clicked right from the beginning getting on like a house on fire. The two were notorious for playing pranks and causing havoc. They were referred to lovingly as Easy companies trouble-makers. Y/N loved Luz like a brother and they were attached at the hip, never far from each other. It kept them sane, amidst all the chaos and heartbreak of war. They had each other and were able to make each other laugh, even when they were having the toughest of days. But they also were able to console each other, knowing what to say when the jokes weren’t feeling the most appropriate. George and Y/N had had a hard time after they had found the camp when doing a search of the perimeter. Neither of them had seen anything like it before and it broke them. It was different to the casualties they had experienced in war, this situation seemed more cruel. The men in the war signed up knowing the sacrifice they might have to make, knowing they might not make it back alive. But this camp they had found, the people were innocent. They weren’t even being treated like humans, they were inferior in Hitler’s eyes, cast aside to be exterminated like cockroaches in a house. That was cruel, the most awful thing that Y/N would ever see. George and Y/N weren’t the same after that, but none of the men were. In that moment they saw the real horror of what was happening and how blindsided they had all been to the reign of Hitler. So when they had stumbled across his Eagle’s nest they were more than happy to loot and steal whatever they wanted, that man deserved no respect. George knocked his elbow into Y/N pulling them from their thoughts. 

“Huh?” Y/N asked. 

“Were you not listening at all?” George rolled his eyes at his friend. 

“Nope, but you know what? I am super drunk.” Y/N slurs in George’s face. George laughs, as Y/N tries to get the room to stop spinning. Y/N spots Winters and Nixon laughing across the room. Y/N gets to their feet, steadying themself before sauntering over to the men. 

“Hello handsome!” Y/N says to Nixon swaying over him. 

“Hello you!” Nixon equally as drunk smirks at Y/N. They take a step forward to sexily whisper in his ear, stumbling over Nixon’s feet landing on his lap. 

“Woooh, steady on Y/N!” Nixon laughs as Y/N gets comfortable. Wrapping their arms around his neck. 

“You love it!” Y/N teases. Nixon wraps his arms around their waist steadying them on his lap. Y/N stays in that position flirting with Nixon as they chat. Y/N feels a shiver run up their spine, glancing around finding the icy stare of Ron trained on them. Shaking off the feeling they turned their focus back to Nixon. Y/N couldn’t seem to pay attention to Nix, the weight of Ron’s gaze distracting them too much. 

“I have to pee.” Y/N announces wiggling off of Nixon’s lap. Y/N scurried out of the hall they occupy into one of the long hallways. Feeling more sober now thanks to the glare of the stoic Captain.

Y/N turns in a circle, where am I? The Eagle’s nest is huge. All the hallways looking the same turns it into a never ending maze. I swear I just walked past that panting. Y/N groans turning around to try and find their way back to the hall. After making more turns left and right trying to remember the way they had come originally, Y/N was once again lost. OMG I WILL NEVER ESCAPE THIS HALLWAY! Y/N presses their back to the wall, sliding down it to sit. Hiding their head in their knees sighing. A pair of black boots stepped into Y/N’s eyeline. They take a moment to regard the shoes, slowly trailing their eyes up the figure looming above them. They gape at their Captain who stands over them.

“Oh, Captain!” Y/N sputtered. Ron didn’t speak, only extending his hand to help Y/N to their feet. Reaching out Y/N clasps the outstretched hand, as he helped haul them to their feet. Once standing they noticed the closeness of the Captain. Ron stood toe to toe with Y/N, caging them into the wall with his body. Shyly Y/N glanced up at Ron who looked down his nose at them. 

Ron leaned forward into Y/N’s space, prompting Y/N to take a step back only to be stopped by the wall. The Captain’s breath fanned onto their face, only inches between them, one small movement would cause their lips to touch. A blush rose to Y/N’s cheeks thinking about them sharing a kiss with Speirs, shaking the thought from their head. Their eyes finally glanced up to hold his gaze. 

“Is there something on my face?” Y/N asked, turning on their signature charm. 

“No.” Speirs said curtly. 

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” Y/N questions the man tilting their head in a coy manner. 

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Ron spoke in a low voice. Y/N blinked at the man confused at what he meant. 

“I’m sorry Sir, I’m confused? Do I have something of yours?” Y/N asked. The man didn’t answer immediately, scanning his eyes over their face, lingering on their lips before dragging back up to meet their gaze again. A shiver ran up Y/N’s spine. The intensity at which Ron was looking at them almost had them in a puddle on the floor. 

Ron took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of Y/N. The smell of wine and something almost sweet lingered around them. The smell alone was addicting. Ron had never felt like this before about anyone. When Y/N had sat on Nixon’s lap he saw red, the way they smiled at each other. Draped over each other, the way Nixon’s arm looped around their waist. His head swirled with jealousy. Ron didn’t think he liked the Private much, he thought he disliked them. Watching them flirt with people, he just assumed he was annoyed at how they weren’t focussing on the task at hand. But after he saw them in Nixon’s lap, he had soon figured out that he felt quite the opposite about Y/N. He had wanted to be the one they were draped over, laughing carelessly, whispering to each other. It had taken quite some control to stop himself from marching over and plucking Y/N out of Nixon’s lap to find somewhere more private. Ron had taken the other option of sending the most deadly glare in their direction instead. When Y/N had scurried out of the room he was quick to slip out as well, following them from a distance. He could tell when Y/N had taken multiple wrong turns they had been lost. He kept his distance though, planning to only be a spectator to it all. When Y/N had sighed loudly and sunk to the floor, he thought it would be the right time to intervene. His plan at first was just to help Y/N back to the hall they were so desperately trying to find. But after he had helped them to their feet he couldn’t help but close the distance between them. They had tried to charm Ron but he had other motives. 

“Sir?” Y/N questioned again when the Captain didn’t answer. The man seemed to snap out of his trance, taking a step back from Y/N. 

“Do you want me to show you back to the hall?” Ron asked. Y/N felt like they had whiplash, one moment it seemed like Ron was about to confess something, the next he was offering to show them back to the hall. 

Y/N still feeling a bit tipsy felt a surge of confidence, taking a step forward into Ron’s personal space. Lightly brushing their fingertips down Ron’s arm. The man stood still, watching Y/N fingers trace down his sleeve, his jaw clenched. 

“Careful Y/N, you don’t know what you’re doing.” Ron growled. 

Y/N smirked, “Oh like this?” dragging their fingers across Ron’s chest teasingly. In a sharp movement Ron captured Y/N’s hand in his, causing a gasp to leave their lips. Pulling them in even closer to whisper in their ear. “You’re playing with fire.” Ron let Y/N’s hand go as it dropped back to their side. 

Something switched in Y/N. An anger bubbled in their chest. Yes they had noticed Ron’s glares on occasion, only thinking it was because the Captain disliked them. Y/N was fine with that, not everyone had to like them, but from his actions tonight it seemed like it was the opposite. Which ticked them off, if Ron liked them why treat Y/N so coldly. Why did he always send a dirty look, never talk to them. Whenever they talked in the past it was short and sweet, no small talk. Orders and go. Now Ron wanted to claim them. A huff left Y/N lips. 

“Do you have a problem with me Sir?” Y/N demanded. Ron seemed taken aback from the sudden outburst of Y/N, not often were they mad and showed it. Ron opened his mouth to answer the soldier standing in front of him only to be cut off. 

“You can’t just treat me like you hate me and then tell me that I am yours!” Y/N spat harshly at the man. 

“I didn’t know.” Ron said calmly, trying to defuse the situation. 

“You didn’t know what?” Y/N challenged the man, fist clenching at their sides to try and restrain themselves from doing something they would regret. 

“I didn’t know that I liked you.” Ron confessed sheepishly. The statement had shocked Y/N causing a blush to rise on their cheeks. They opened and closed their mouth, unable to form a sentence. 

“I’m sorry for treating you poorly in the past. You just….you just made me so angry. I couldn’t put my finger on why. But now I can. Seeing you tonight with Nixon, it just hit a nerve. Then I realised that I was jealous.” Ron blurted trying to fill the silence, as Y/N stared stunned at him. 

“I wanted you to look at me how you were looking at him.” Ron breathed. The pair still standing toe to toe stared at each other as their breaths filled the silence. The tension between them was thick with need. So close, their faces only inches apart, breaths mingling with each other. Ron’s eyes searched between Y/N’s for an answer, a signal, anything. Ron’s hands moved from his side reaching Y/N’s face cupping around their jaw. 

“Is this ok?” He hummed lowly. Y/N’s lips parted as a soft yes fell from their mouth. Ron’s thumb moved, stroking Y/N’s jaw. The movement causes Y/N’s eyes to flutter closed, enjoying the gentle touches. 

“What about this?” Ron breathed, running his thumb down Y/N’s neck. A sigh left their lips, letting their head fall back so the man had better access to their skin. Ron came closer, tucking his face into the open space that Y/N had created. 

“This?” He said, deliberately dragging his lips over the soft flesh as he spoke. Causing a moan to sound from Y/N. The man stepped back letting all contact cease. A whimper came from Y/N from the sudden loss. Y/N head swum, desperately wanting to be back in Ron’s arms and pissed at him for teasing them so. 

“That’s not very nice of you Ron.” They panted, a smug smirk formed on the Captain's lips. 

“Well now you know how it feels.” He teased Y/N. Y/N scoffed at the man. 

“Fine then! I will find someone else to satisfy my needs.” Y/N exclaimed, turning on their heel back to the direction of the hall. I mean if it’s that way, I am still lost. Not making it two steps before their waist was grabbed by Ron. Who turned them back to face him. 

“There is no need for that.” Ron asserted. Before Y/N could come back with a snarky reply Ron pressed his lips to theirs. His lips were surprisingly soft and full. The kiss at first was gentle. Ron’s hand gripped at Y/N’s hips pulling them closer. A contented sigh leaving Y/N’s lips. Sliding their hands up Ron’s arms to rest on his shoulders, pulling him further down to deepen their kiss. Ron’s grip on their body grew possessive, his kisses becoming more fervent. His hands running up their spine, stopping at the base of Y/N’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair there. A soft moan falls from Y/N’s lips. Taking the opportunity of their open mouth Ron teasingly running his tongue along their bottom lip. Y/N presses their body further into Ron’s needing to be as close as they could to the man. Ron allowed his tongue to find its way into Y/N mouth. The sounds of soft whimpers and groans filled the empty hallway as the pair became hungrier with lust. Ron moved Y/N swiftly, grabbing under their legs to lift them off the ground. Y/N wrapped their legs around Ron’s waist. Ron pushes Y/N against the wall pressing their back against its surface. With his hands wrapping fully around their body Ron passionately kisses Y/N, his hands gliding up their figure as his lips continue to explore theirs. With Y/N pressed against the wall Ron leaned into the kiss more heavily, his tongue exploring Y/N mouth, as their hands roamed around Ron’s body. Slipping their fingers into his hair tugging gently causing the man to groan, the sensual sound causing goosebumps to arise over their skin. Y/N pulls back to admire the man, his blue eyes full of lust, his swollen pink lips parted slightly as he pants. 

“I think we should take it slow.” Y/N whispers to the man still being held in his arms.

“God you’re killing me Y/N.” Ron growled, but in the same breath gently placing them back on the ground but still holding them close. A small smile formed on Y/N’s lip, giving the man a gentle peck. Grabbing his hand Y/N starts to lead him back to the hall. He smiles and walks after them. 

“Y/N, the hall is this way.” He chuckled, pulling them back. Continuing to hold hands they walked down the corridor back to the hall where the rest of Easy company resided.            

[munsonownsmyass]

Not now, not yet

Joel miller x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood. I choose to leave out the rest, so I don't spoil.

Notes: I don't know what this is. Barely a drabble, but I had a thought and had to write it.

No spoilers for the show, promise.

Breathing hard, you look around as you try to gather your senses. Everything turned to chaos in a split second when that horde surprised you, coming from every side. Somewhere during your escape, you lost track of the others, but most importantly you lost track of Joel and Ellie.

Frantically you look around, disorientated by everything around you. Guttural growls that should only be in nightmares fill the air, followed by screams of pain and gunshots. Please don’t let it be Joel. It’s selfish to wish another person dead, but they could take anyone, just not Joel.

Leaning against a wall, you slowly pull up your shirt, the worm fabric already painted red. Shit. Not like this. Not now, not yet.You had to find Joel and Ellie.

Whump

The sound is almost soft, but it’s followed seconds later by a blast, the energy enough to knock you over. Fumbling to your knees, you see the cloud in the distance. You try to see through the dust, in the direction of the explosion, praying Joel didn’t go that way.

“Oh God.” Your fingers tremble as they reach for the walkie. “Joel?” The line remains silent and you breathe out slowly, trying to hold back the tears. “Joel? Come in, please…”

There’s still no answer, only the white static filling the air, the sound taunting you. Trying one more time, you know how desperate it must sound, but you don’t care. “Joel!”

Perhaps… They weren’t even near the blast. Perhaps they’re still somewhere behind you, battling the infected. Perhaps they’re fine somewhere, nothing but a few bruises. They’re fine. They have to be fine.

With one final look around, you make sure the coast is clear before you move forward. One word keeps circling you mind as you move forward, searching for your group.

Please

The pain shoots through you, making it harder to breathe. The t-shirt is clinging to your skin, hot and sticky. You had to stop the bleeding, you knew that, but you wanted to find them. Had to find them.

It gets harder to walk, each step feeling like dragging your feet through sand. Blinking a few times, you try to focus, vision already getting blurry. Behind you the sound of an infected is drawing near. You have to fight it, its you or it, but you don’t have the energy. Body is getting heavy, but you have to go on. Have to find them. Have to…

“Sweetheart.”

His voice pulls you back, his beard tickling against the sensitive skin of your neck. Opening your eyes, you see the ugly wallpaper of your bedroom, the color so faded you barely can make out the print. An arm tightens around you. His arm.

Turning around, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He’s real, he’s there. Shaking, you move closer, impossibly close and Joel just holds you, one hand drawing soft circles on your back. “I… I thought you and Ellie were dead.” You sniffle, moving your head to his chest, the sweet sound of his heartbeat grounding you.

“Yeah, figured as much.” He drawls, his voice thick with sleep, as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. After the last run where you had a close call, you’ve had nightmares almost every night. But every time Joel was there to make it all better again. “We’re okay.” He whispers softly into your hair, holding you close.

“I know.” But still, you wrap yourself impossibly tight to him. You hate to be this vulnerable with him, but you can’t help it. He’s the one thing keeping you sane in this fucked up world. You can’t lose him. Looking up, you see how the moonshine falls on his face, making him even more beautiful. He looks to you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. No words are needed, his eyes say it all. He can’t lose you either. And hopefully, he never will.

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