#rifle setup

[theinfinitedivides]

also since i've basically been live blogging watching this i'm going to offer up an unpopular opinion. so pls if you are my mutual and have seen this do not hate me if you haven't avoid this post but uh. Ballerina could have been better than it ended up being and i don't know how to feel about that

[theroguebanshee]

How I Created the Ultimate .308 Rifle (Step-by-Step Guide)

Join us on Extreme DIY Gunsmithing as we create the ultimate .308 Winchester custom rifle, named the Smooth Operator. This precision rifle is built around the renowned Pristine short action, known for its unparalleled smoothness and accuracy. Crafted for both tactical and practical performance, this build features top-tier components from industry-leading brands, making it perfect for long-range…

[bimbospace]

finished ng++ of armored core and immediately going back to play it again but this time only using my zaku load out

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[queenpiranhadon]

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✶.ᐟ: Your daughter and son, ever the matchmakers, wonder why your husband, their father, isn't the most romantic. One night, when you come home from work, you witness your kids trying to wrangle Sukuna into a suit, excitedly telling you he's taking you to a fancy restaurant.

✶ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: f!reader, you and Sukuna are married, you have a 7 year old daughter and a 5 year old son, Sukuna isn't very big on PDA but he loves you so so so much, your kids love their mama <3, icky food, no curses AU, mentions of postpartum insecurities, ooc Sukuna - for a reason dw

✶ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ✶

You're in a good mood today - work went smoothly and you were able to finish up early so you could come home to wind down with your family for the evening.

As you grab your keys to unlock the front door of your home, you mentally go through a list of ingredients for what you plan on making for dinner tonight.

However, a loud crash breaks you out of your thoughts, startling you as you hurriedly open the door, wondering what in the world you husband and kids have gotten up to now.

Stepping inside, you're not exactly sure what to make of the scene that graces your eyes.

Your husband has a grumpy look on his face, red eyes squinting at the little girl in front of him with an equally annoyed expression on her face.

Your son is nowhere to be seen, but you hear another crash from the kitchen, flinching as you have a nagging suspicion what's going on.

What's even more jarring however, is the fact that your husband is wearing a suit.

It's been a while since you've seen Sukuna in formal wear, especially in a suit that deliciously clings to his frame in a way that showcases his defined arms and sculpted torso.

"Stop complaining Daddy! You need to look good for- oh Hi Mommy!" your daughter's voice cuts you out of your daydreaming, her small angry face brightening up in excitement once her eyes fall on you.

Running up to you, she grabs your hand and tugs you closer to your husband, whose face looks slightly embarrassed - which should've immediately signaled some alarms in your mind because Sukuna and embarrassed did not fit in the same sentence.

"Daddy's gonna take you on a date to a fancy restaurant!" your daughter chirps, and you blink at her slowly.

"He- what?"

"Go get ready Mommy! Look extra pretty too!"

You protest helplessly, unable to do much as your daughter pushes you into your room, leaving you to contemplate what the hell just happened.

You chuckle at your daughter's antics, sighing as you set your bag down and take your shoes off.

It wouldn't hurt to play along for a bit.

Rifling through your closet, your eyes widen as they land on the dress Sukuna had bought you for your birthday a while ago.

Changing into it, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You know it's been a hot minute since you've ever dressed up so nicely, but the way the dress clings to your figure seems different than how it used to. Then again, the last time you wore this dress was before your daughter was born, and thus it was bound to fit a little differently due to the changes your body had undergone due to postpartum. Your husband has assured you that he genuinely did not care, and that he loved you the way you are, and yet... you couldn't help but feel a little insecure as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Before you could change your mind though, your daughter barges into the room, giving you a quick once-over before grabbing your arm again and dashing to the backyard with you in tow.

Like father, like daughter, you snort mentally, knowing full well your little girl got her impatience from her dad.

Bringing you to the patio, you blink in surprise as your drink in the view in front of you. It's a fairly nice setup, fairy lights twinkling from the veranda ceiling and a table with a vase of flowers that you recognize to be the one you set on the kitchen counter just a few days ago.

"Aw honey, did you do all of this?" you say, and your daughter grins nodding.

"I hope you're hungry!" she says and you raise an eyebrow.

Before you can ask any further though, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Turning you see your husband, clearly out of his element as he eyes your figure in a way that makes you feel almost vulnerable to his gaze.

"H-Hey." You say, awkwardly. Though being married for so long, it's been a while since you and Sukuna have been on a date - not to anyone's fault, but between balancing both your work life and managing your kids' schedules, there just hasn't been any time.

He smirks, approaching you and wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. "Hey, gorgeous. Ya ready?"

You flush - was Sukuna ever this flirty? You feel like a schoolgirl again - which is strange, considering you've been married for nine years. Maybe the lack of dates has really caught up to you.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. If your husband could act a little out of his element, so could you.

You bring a hand up to his face, tracing his jawline before your thumb grazes the outline of his lips. Your look at him lovingly, but there's a tinge on shyness in your gaze too.

"You look really good, Ryo." you say, and it's like you're 17 again.

Sukuna hums, kissing the top of your forehead. "Yeah? You don't look so bad yourself, love."

Guiding you to the table, he pulls out your seat for you, making sure you're situated before sitting down in his own seat.

You're not sure how your daughter managed to get Sukuna to act like this, but you mentally thank her because this was so worth it. You make a note to treat her later.

Just then, you son loudly enters the area, wearing what you notice to be your husband's chunky black boots and your white jacket and sunhat in what you gather to be a poor attempt at a chef's outfit. You wince mentally noticing a stain that definitely wasn't there before but your son looked so hilariously adorable in the clearly oversized clothing that you couldn't bring yourself to be mad.

You see him adorably trying to look at mature as possible, with a mustache drawn on with what you hope isn’t permanent marker.

“Here are your menus.” your son says, with a terrible French accent, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle your laugh.

“Thank you very much… um what’s in the-” you squint, trying to decipher what you know to be your son’s handwriting “special?”

Your son frowns, thinking for a minute. “The special? The special has uh…” you wait for him patiently, extremely amused.

He just shrugs. “I dunno.”

You laugh a little and sigh, eyeing the menu that consisted of the unknown special and baked beans for some apparent reason.

“I’ll just take the baked beans then.” you say, smiling down at your son, who takes your menu, turning to look at your husband, whose red eyes were already staring at you.

You flush and clear your throat, looking away, but you can still feel his assessing gaze, as if he's trying to drink up every square inch of you, memorizing your beautiful face in the moment.

Your son looks up at his father impatiently and Sukuna blinks in confusion before realizing that he needed to order too. “I’ll just take the baked beans or whatever I guess.” He grumbles and you raise an amused eyebrow.

The moment your son stomps away in his (read: Sukuna’s) boots, your husband mutters under his breath. "God I hate baked beans."

You snort. "Weren't you the one who wanted to eat healthier in this house?"

Sukuna grumbles"When I said eat more proteins, I meant meat, not stupid beans." You almost want to take a picture of his expression- looks like your daughter was rubbing off on your husband as just much as he was rubbing off on her.

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” you hear your son call out, and you flinch as another crash can be heard from inside.

You start to get up, but you’re stopped by the feeling of Sukuna’s large hand on your thigh.

“I’ll take care of it.” you hear his gruff voice say, and your heart warms at the sentiment, watching him and his daughter leave the room.

Sukuna groans, watching the catastrophe in front of him.

Taking on that stupid bet with a 7 year old, what was he thinking?!

He can picture her smug face in his mind, drawing a random picture on the countertop before asking the most out of pocket question in the world.

“Why does Mommy love you?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. Because we’re married…?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that, I mean why does Mama love you- it’s not like you give her kisses and hugs all the time.”

Sukuna blinks. She wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t mean he didn’t show his affection to you. Any PDA was done behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, which included your own children. And you knew that- and reassured him that his alternate ways of showing affection didn’t bother you at all. However…

“Daddy’s not romansic!” Your son chimes, his pronounciating a little off, but the message was clear.

Your daughter nods. “Yeah Daddy! You can’t be romantic at all!”

Which is how Sukuna found himself staring at the spilled can of baked beans, food splattered across the tiled kitchen floor. He eyes another stain on his (your) jacket as well- and groans internally, knowing that he owes you another one.

"What the f- heck, happened here?"" Sukuna gapes, catching himself before he said something he would surely get sent to the couch for.

"....I spilled it." Your son looks back at him meekly. Unlike his daughter, your son looked and acted almost exactly like you- which was a problem for Sukuna because it made it almost impossible to get mad at him.

Your husband groans, knowing wondering how he's going to clean the mess, when your daughter's small hands star pushing him out of the kitchen again.

"Go be romantic Daddy- I'll clean up the mess and we'll make something." she says, and in that split second, he gets immediate whiplash from the resemblance your daughter has to you.

Maybe not in looks, Sukuna had that covered, but in the way her mouth curved up in a determined little smile? All you.

Sukuna knew you were as used to this whole date thing as he was - the last date you had been on was about 7 years ago, and so he was a little nervous.

But when you saw you, god you looked so heavenly it was almost sinful to even be able to lay his eyes upon you. The way your dress hugged your curves, the sparkle in your eyes he loved so much, and that gorgeous smile - he wanted to give you the world. He wants to give you the world.

He sees you sitting patiently by the table, tracing invisible patterns on the tablecloth, before a shadow looming over the table catches your attention.

Sukuna's behind you, draping his arms around you to loosely rest against your collarbone, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Huh- oh, hi Ryo!" you say, smiling softly and giggling as his hair tickles your neck.

Fuck... I love you so much baby...so, so, so, damn much." he mumbles and you coo, threading your fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the pink tufts.

You laugh slightly. "What's gotten into you, hm?"

Sukuna still doesn't lift his face from your neck, his words muffled. "Shut up woman, and let me love my wife."

You smile warmly, gently removing your hands from his hair to tilt his face towards you, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

Sukuna almost melts from your touch, and you're a little surprised, wondering who ever managed to get him so...soft.

Sukuna didn't have to wonder though. He knew. It was you. It always has been. Sukuna's not one to look at the past, or get sentimental, but this? Spending some time with you, being able to be surrounded by you and your love, being able to watch his family grow with you by his side - he can't help but feel the need to love you even more than he has.

What you both don't notice are the two sets of eyes that peer out the back window, your daughter and son fist bumping as a mission accomplished.

A/N: I think I rewrote this a good three times :,)

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11

@ladygojooo @abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

You know what would make the Lucky Charm more balanced? Make it so that there are times where other characters figure it out, not just Ladybug. That way, it doesn't make Ladybug hypercompent and makes it possible for other people to save the day.

I don't mind Ladybug being the one best suited to Lucky Charm. I don't think it makes her hyper competent because you don't need a Lucky Charm to save the day. It's just the way that she saves the day. The other characters should have their own unique talents that let them win fights. Generally speaking, that's how strong teams work.

For a random example, let's talk about the teenage mutant ninja turtles simply because I think most people know something about that franchise. The character Donatello (aka Donnie) is the team's tech guy. He makes all kinds of inventions that help them save the day. The show would not be improved if all four of the turtles were able to take on this inventor role. I'd argue that it would actually be lessened because the characters would become interchangeable. This is something that the franchise seems to agree with as each version of the show gives each turtle unique skills and personality traits that makes each of them indispensable in their own way, which is what I think Miraculous should have done with the temp heroes.

That being said, I do think that there's a way to make your idea work. I'd just go a slightly different, more lore balancing route since Lucky Charm is technically bad lore and you all know how I feel about bad lore. So let's talk about giving it a minor tweak and how I think that would actually improve things.

Tikki is supposed to be Creation, not Luck, so the Lucky Charm shouldn't have anything to do with Luck. It should just be pure Creation where the holder comes up with a thing they want and that thing then pops up. It could also have a give and take element where the holder gets what they asked for if they want something specific, but they could also just call the power as a hail Mary and Tikki would come up with something on the fly, leading to the occasional puzzle.

This leads me to my proposed changed.

I personally think it would be hilarious and honestly more fun for Marinette's character if she could summon anything she wanted, but the Lucky Charms stay exactly the same because that's just how her mind works. Even when Tikki is helping, it's still all wacky items because Tikki knows how Marinette is and just goes with it.

For example, in Copy Cat, Ladybug turns a spoon into a hook for a cobbled together fishing pole. Wouldn't it be even funnier if Marinette summoned a spoon on purpose because she was thinking of the makeshift thing she cobbled together in order to fish up something she dropped from her balcony? Then, post fight, Chat Noir praises her like always, only to then ask, "So why a spoon and not a fishing hook?" And Ladybug just stares at him because oh, right, those are things they make. She could have done that. Ooops.

And in Malediktator where she summons a sniper rifle to get a laser pointer? Well, she was thinking about this silly comic about a cat assassin! She totally spaced on the fact that you could just get a laser pointer by itself.

Eventually, her team learns to just go with it and not ask questions. Meanwhile, the general public thinks that the Lucky Charm is some random item that Ladybug has to figure out and no one bothers to correct this misunderstanding. You can even have a running gag of new team members learning the truth and going through the acceptance process of, "Hey, you try thinking up how to set a trap while a 5 meter tall lollipop is trying to crush you! Your mind goes to what it knows, not to the ideal solution, okay???"

If we go with this setup, then other people can wield the Ladybug and use Lucky Charm effectively, they'll just use it in a very different way from the way Marinette uses it. There will also be people who are just not suited to the Ladybug since that was initially how the powers were supposed to work and it made perfect sense. Kwamis should have ideal holders along with okay backups and terrible backups. I personally think Alya would be an okay backup since she's creative, but not creative in the same way Marinette is, leading her to be a lesser Ladybug. Adrien, on the other hand, should generally suck at the Ladybug as he simply doesn't have that style of creative thinking. Which is fine. Better than fine, even! You don't want your characters to be interchangeable! They should all have strengths and weaknesses!

This is one of the show's big flaws. Since everything is on Marinette's shoulders, the other characters rarely get a chance to shine and so they feel interchangeable. For example, if gift always shows the target what THEY want, then why does Rose need to be the one to wield it? Juleka could wield it just as easily. And if Ladybug is generally the one telling Marc and Nathaniel what to summon with their powers, then their creativity is not needed. Anyone could wield the rooster and the goat! The show has completely failed to understand what makes teams memorable and so we have a bloated, boring team whose presence I'm dreading because they had five seasons to set these guys up and yet here we are.

[vexwerewolf]

hi, i recently ran a session with my friends after a few months hiatus, but one of my players has a lich and trivialized the combat encounter. it really wasn't that fun for me so i was wondering if you had any tips or advice on how to handle that? i dont want to make the game unfun or unfair for my players since we're here to have a fun time, and i dont want it to feel like I'm specifically trying to fuck over one of my players, but the lich's abilities hurt my brain. any npcs or strategies you know that could be useful?

Ways to fuck with a Lich:

Shoot the Lich more than once a round

No, I'm serious. This is how you defeat a Lich.

Lich has base 4 HP, only average Evasion, no Armor and Heat Cap 3. It is comically reliant on its ability to just say "no" to a single source of damage every round. It needs to put its Soul Vessel down somewhere WELL out of the way, or it'll still be in the firing line.

Also, remember that the Lich actually has very limited control over where it puts down its Soul Vessel. It puts it down where it is at the start of its turn. This can often lead to it being forced to put its Soul Vessel down in the same place multiple turns in a row, making its exit point predictable.

Things you can do to exploit this:

Deploy a Rainmaker and keep it in the backline. Have it wait until after the Lich goes to take its turn (or give it Elite).

Have a melee NPC circle around and camp near where the Lich puts down its Soul Vessel.

Repeatedly target the Lich with small bursts of damage. Does it risk blowing its reaction on this one? Or this one? Or this one? Or this one? This next one might structure it...

Operator: PLAYERS HATE HIM! MAKE THEM MISERABLE WITH THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK! (The weird trick is teleporting behind enemy lines and hitting them with a Range 20 Plasma Rifle)

Have a Hive put a Razor Swarm on top of the Soul Vessel. Go ahead, idiot! Teleport back to it. It'll be hilarious.

Another Rainmaker tactic that takes a lot of setup, but is VERY funny: give the Rainmaker Atlas Missiles. After the Lich has both acted and retreated to its Soul Vessel, deploy the Atlas Missiles on top of the Soul Vessel. The next round, the Lich will place the Soul Vessel at its feet... in the Atlas Missile zone. Go ahead, idiot! Avoid this burst of damage and teleport back to that burst of damage.

[gildedkrone]

Hit me and tell me you’re mine, I don’t know why but I like it 🔞

Relationships: John Price x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: John decides to fuck you in the wild. Inappropriate use of military camouflage equipment. A/N: Exhibitionistic Price for the win! Master List

It was so fucking hot.

Laswell’s idea of fun was to send you and the captain to a remote island off the coast of the US. The higher ups had received intel regarding a spike in drug trafficking operations in the area and Price was in charge of reconnaissance this time round.

Hopping on a boat ride from a US base in Florida, you soon find yourself prone on the grassy field in search of the so called druggies. The weather is unbearably hot, right in the middle of June and scorching. You were dressed in the thinnest of combat fatigues and yet, you can feel sweat dripping off your nape and onto the collar of your uniform. The dark patches on your uniform are growing by the minute.

Price had setup his sniper rifle beside you and radioed in his position to Laswell. You resisted the urge to fiddle with your collar one more time before Price binds your hand behind your back.

“You make it hard to focus, love.” Is his flimsy excuse whenever your hands went to touch your neck.

The island was all but deserted. There is a tiny warehouse near the opposite end of the island and between you and there, a thirty minute hike by Price’s estimation. His rifle is pointing towards the warehouse and he gives you a curious look.

All good, lad? You give him an affirmative nod and he smiles. Feeling mischievous, you give him a quick kiss on the nose. The surprised look on his face garners a snicker from your lips and you pull back to adjust your weapon.

So imagine the yelp when his hand cups your nape harshly and he smashes his lips into yours. You taste hints of cigar on his breath and he is tongue fucking you into submission. Give in. He rumbles approvingly when you let resistance fade from your muscles and he rewards you with a light caress of the thigh.

“Are you going to behave yourself, sergeant?” His whisper is all smoky and of mirth. It lights something within you, but what? You nod and he tuts gently. He shakes his head and he leans closer in as his beard grazes your cheek.

“Put on the ghillie suit and focus on the mission, sergeant.” No! Not the ghillie suit! You plead with him to reconsider but he is not having it. He even pulls rank and orders you into it. It’s so goddamned fucking hot and your captain is forcing you into something that’s going to make the situation a million times worse.

Not wanting to get written up or disciplined later, the ghillie suit is pulled over your body and you resist the urge to whine further. Price is focused on the mission and you aren’t interested in testing his patience today. A bit more shuffling here and adjusting there and you are prone on the floor beside Price. Albeit sweating even more profusely than before. Heat is rolling off your prone form in waves and you are twitching sporadically to get the sweat to roll off your skin. The suit traps a lot of heat and patches of uniform sticks to your soaked skin.

Price gives a questioning look. You give him a “everything is okay” smile and look through the scope. The warehouse looks the same as it did an hour ago. Nothing has moved and nobody has walked out.

The constant fidgeting must be annoying Price. The captain shoots you a few looks and yanked your arm. A yelp drowned out by a hand on your mouth and Price pulls you into a kneeling sitting position. He was careful to ensure that the suit doesn’t chafe or pull at your body.

“Sergeant, do you have an issue with keeping still?”

You shake your head. He cocks an eyebrow. Ok, maybe it is too hot in the damn suit. He sighs at your excuse and when he looks at you again, there is a glint in his eyes that spelt trouble. The sexy kind of trouble.

Price clears his throat and whispers, “How about this, sergeant? Let’s do some impromptu training to strengthen your resolve.” You nod eagerly, hoping to impress your captain.

He instructs you to lie down before him on your back and you comply swiftly. He chuckles and gently pats your thigh. Once settled, he scooched forward and situated himself between your thighs. Taking extra care to avoid your body, he puts his fully body weight onto you and his arms rest at your shoulders to adjust his rifle.

Price isn’t a light man. He isn’t as tall or as built as Ghost, but he is damn well heavy and strong and prostrated across your body, he is squeezing the air out of your lungs with each movement of his body. He finally settles into a comfortable position and stops moving.

“If you lay still and be quiet for me, I will reward you, love. How about that?” You perk up at the sound of a reward and he laughs quietly at the eagerness. It will make you feel really, really good. And really hot, too.

You are prepared to do whatever it takes to earn your captain’s reward. His hand pats your head reassuringly and you stifle the urges to move and shake beneath his heavy body. The sheer amount of sweat pooling on your chest is obscene but you remain still, like a bush.

“Got nothing here, Laswell.” Price checks in with Laswell. Whatever Laswell says is unimportant; you are focused on keeping yourself obedient and compliant.

The midday sun is unforgiving and cracks are beginning to form in the barrier holding back your basal instincts. The soft moans Price is making when he moves is leaving deep gashes in your mental fortitude and you mean it when you say that he is doing all of this deliberately. All in a bid to make you misbehave on mission. Well, he will have to try harder. Price looks down at your flushed face and smirks. Infernally sexy.

“Well done, sergeant. That was only stage one. Get ready for stage two.” He doesn’t wait for you to clarify and he is lifting the ghillie suit slightly to tug at your belt. It takes a bit of effort for him but his hands are an insistent force on your pelvis as the military issued belt is unclipped. You look at him in alarm as he chuckles and kisses your cheek.

The belt is first to leave and next, your trousers are lowered to your knees. Price continues to observe your face as the first whines start escaping your mouth. His hand trails up from your thighs and settles at the elastic band of your boxers. You shiver and shake as he tuts gently while aiming the rifle.

“No movement, sergeant. Be still.” You nod and swallow nervously and his hand is gently tugging on the band. The tent in your boxers receives some gently strokes that wire your jaw shut and he pulls your boxers off. Your dick is long hard and needy as it springs free from its clothed prison. The nets in the ghillie suit catches the head of your dick and you gasp at the rough sensation.

Price smiles and disappointingly, leaves your aching dick alone. Not before he gently moves his body downwards slightly to slide his groin against your dick a couple of times. Each of the times, he pulls whimpers and moans from his favourite part of your body—your mouth. Focus. He commands and your body reacts to stop the shivering. Price makes matters worse by gently whispering words of good boy and my lad into your ear.

The time fades into a blur and you aren’t sure how long has passed since your torture began. Your dick is so hard that it is pushing against the netted suit before slipping and sliding through the gaps in the netting. Price’s hand is on your neglected appendage and he strokes gently. He kisses you again to silence the inevitable pants and begs that he loves to hear each and every time.

“Careful, sergeant. Almost caught you slipping up there.” He admonishes and his grip on your dick turns punishing and painful. You buck your hips to shake his hand off but he growls and leans close.

“That’s it, sergeant. You are going to be disciplined.” He tugs the ghillie suit upwards until it covers your hips and up only. The belt in his cargo pants are on the ground and his pants are down and you swallow when you see that he is wearing nothing underneath those pants. Commando for a commander.

He dick is hard and heavy in his grip as he gives himself a couple of tugs and strokes. Keeping his eyes on you, he spits into his palm and wets his dick. Ready? His hands caress your face and you indicate your consent. His dick probes your ass and eventually, he slides home in a steady and practised manner. His reaction to being swallowed by warm heat was to give you another kiss and a short pant. You, on the other hand, was falling apart underneath his body when the thick dick is fully in you. You moan, loud and unabashed at the rush of sudden pleasure mixed with a trace of pain. Price normally take his time and fingers your before hitting it home but it seems that this time, he is less patient than usual. His hands are back on his rifle as he continues to lay above you, this time with his dick fully seated in your ass.

Sweat rolls off your pelvis and onto his dick and your entrance and you are moving to try to get some sort of friction and pleasure from him. His hand snaps to your hips and he whispers, don’t you dare. You disobey his unspoken order and clench down on him and he exhales roughly.

“Do you intend to disobey my orders, sergeant?” You nod your head. To see Price lose control and take you hard in enemy territory sparked something deep and primal within you.

“Bloody hell, you fucking fiend. Be a good cockwarmer and keep quiet. We are still on a mission.” You force your torso to relax and release its grip on his dick. Price sighs appreciatively and you concentrate on warming his appendage deep in you. He mumbles something into the radio and the safety on his rifle is clicked off.

The rifle fires and the smoke of gunpowder blows onto your face. You cough and Price adjusts his rifle keep the empty bullet casings being ejected from hitting your face. A couple of shots later, he radios Laswell again.

“Well done, Price. And the sergeant?” Price looks at you and answers that you were helping him out nicely. He neglects to mention the fact that you are keeping his dick companion, but whatever.

Halfway through his shooting, his hips start to gently move and his dick is generating that absolutely delicious and burning friction that tingles your pleasure senses so nicely. You moan for him and he snaps his hips to punish you. It fails and only serves to rile you up further. The familiar knot makes itself known in your abdomen and each of his gently and rough thrusts are tightening the knot further and further.

When Price is all done shooting, he looks down at your pleasure drunk face. Drool is trailing down your chin and your chest is heaving gently in sync with his movements. He kisses you again and you start meeting his thrusts midway. He groans gently and squeeze your naked ass cheeks gently.

“Are you close, sergeant?” You nod your head weakly; Price has had a lot of fun teasing you with the potential for release. “You are not allowed to come, sweetheart.” His hand is a prison on the base of your dick and you feel the pleasure plateau. He cuts off your climax and you see the bracelet on his wrist tie and twist around the base of your dick. You moan in protest as he pulls the elastic band before letting it slap your dick with a thwack. The pain jolts your hips and Price’s dick hits a deeper part of you. So that’s why he was so insistent on bringing it along with him.

“This is training, sergeant. Try and hold out. The band will help.” He’s so commanding in sex when he is taking on the role of the 141 Captain. Your dick bobs and sways in the air as his hand squeezes your abs.

Eventually, the unsatisfying burn of pleasure is killing you in a blaze of lust and desire. You paw at his chest as the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass is loud and wet. Give me more, please! He shakes his head and slows down his thrusts. The whine you made was one of dissatisfaction. Price isn’t as young as he used to be and he wants to fully savour your squirming and shaking body beneath him. That means cumming into you once and right. He adopts a kneeling position and stops moving those sinuous hips of his.

“Good lad. Now, use your core muscles and sit up.”

While attached to his dick?

He says yes and you feel even more turned on than normal. The torso muscles are not cooperating as your weakly arch your back off the ground before flopping down. He whispers that he won’t cum in you as long as you are not sitting up. It takes a while, but eventually, you manage to summon enough strength to pull your body up to his with his dick still inside your ass. He smiles and kisses you again.

“Wanted this, didn’t you? Saw the way your eyes lit up when I mentioned we were going to be using this today.” He runs a hand through the suit and you nod desperately. His chuckle is smooth and silken. “Want them to look, don’t you, darling?”

“Ride it, sweetheart. Save a cowboy, sergeant.” You bounce on his dick, starting off slowly before letting gravity pull your hips down onto his in a smash. He adjusts his position and his hand supports your upper body. Price is making short grunts and noises as he is close to climax. His hands are gripping your hips and moving them to meet him halfway. His eyes are lidded with pleasure and the loving, longing gaze is making you want to cum too. Eventually, you feel the twitch in the thick appendage in you and with a loud grunt and bite on your shoulder, hot liquid gushes into your ass and a jolt makes it way up your spine at the sensation of being so damn filled. Price’s climax is long and thick and viscous and he is forcing your hip to stay connected to his. But he is cumming so damn much and some of it leaks out from around his dick to the grass field below.

You whine as his climax is finished. He had orgasmed, but yours was still nowhere to be seen. You clench on his dick as more fluid leaks out from his still connected organ and he chuckles deeply.

“Sergeant, what was my command?”

“Stay still and don’t move—ah!” He gives a minor thrust that displaces the white cream in your ass and encasing his dick.

“Did you follow my commands?”

“N-no sir!”

“Well, then, do you know what your punishment is?” You nod miserably and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Good boy. Behave, sergeant.” He pulls himself out gently amidst your gasp and cum leaks out in the process. Your head is guided gently towards his filthy dick and you know what he wants. Licking it clean like a good dog, you make sure to leave nothing on his dick as he sighs and runs his fingers through your hair soothingly. His boxers are back on and his trousers, too. He flicks your semi-hard erection and you lurch into his chest. Your underwear is fixed to your hips and Price helps you to get into your pants. You complain about feeling all sticky and gross and unfulfilled.

Price’s reaction was to remind you that you disobeyed his orders without shame.

“While I did enjoy that, lad, the pleasure isn’t for you, sergeant. Seems like we have to rectify this when we return to base.” His threat of more pleasure sends another thrill through you.

His face turns serious for a moment and he asks if you are truly okay and if he went overboard. You shake your head and he helps to remove the ghillie suit. Soft, plump lips are on yours and Price gives you a look of endearment. Once folded, it goes into the large pouch on the back of your vest and you grab your rifle while Price grabs his.

“Laswell, no movement spotted. Time to exfil.” You belatedly realise that the mission is over.

“There’s some pretty bad storms here at the harbour. You will have to wait before I can get to the both of you.” Price sighs and acknowledges.

His turns to tell you and halfway through, he smiles and it bodes badly for you.

“Why wait until back at base? I’m going to discipline you here, sergeant.” His hands pull down the zipper to your pants and your bound dick is released when your underwear is pulled aside. Pleasure is stirring in your loins again and pre is leaking from the tip. Price swipes a finger and licks it.

Sweet as pie, he tells you. Amidst the unbroken heat and the warmth of Price’s fingers, you can’t decide which is worse. Price is all the more happy to help you decide. Somehow, you knew that once he is done with you, you won’t be walking properly for the next day.

And you can’t wait for Price to completely destroy you again with that massive dick of his.

[ghostheartfelt]

Hiiii! First of all I hope you're doing well <333 and second omg!! I loved your ghost smut 😭😭 I'm here to request smt if you don't mind, I've requested this before but nobody wanted to write it but feel free to not wrote it too if you don't like the plot but here we go:

Ghost breaks up with reader NOT because he hates her but because his next mission is really hard and dangerous and there was a really slim chance that he'd survive it. So he tries to push reader away to not hurt her feelings but things escalated and they break up but when he comes back from the mission they have make-up sex? 🤭 Thank you for reading all of this and if you can't write it then I understand, thank you for your time and effort 💗

*:･｡☆ a/n: hi anon~ thank you so much for being my first req!!!! And thank u so much for  the support. I’m so sorry i took forever to get to this! but you bet ur sweet ass i’ll write this for you?! I hope you enjoy this regardless of how long it took me to get to it. mwah! -ur bbg cure 

〔☆〕 desc: ghost is deployed on a mission in bangladesh that price explains as risky and complicated--ghost immediately thinks of you as the possibilities of survival are described as slim. him, gaz, and soap set out back to manchester, and no amount of talk is able to change his mind. he ends things off between the two of you, which arises a depressive state in you before he arrives and makes it up to you completely. (possibly takes place before ten minutes past?…. 👀)

*:･｡☆ tags: p in v, unprotected intercourse, whiny ghost if you squint, hand job if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader orgasms twice, cock warming, he sleeps with the tip inside<3, this hurt my breeding kink heart, pet names, possessive ghost, breast worship if you squint, break up and make up sex, porn with feelings. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!! not too bad, sadly.

—✩ N[EX]T REGRETS ✩—

word count — 4.3k

☆ (peep the song that inspires this writing...) ☆

Your hands are setting two plates on the dinner table; one for you, one for your boyfriend.

He was coming home from deployment—it’d been months since you’d last seen him, you’d lost track.

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins are set beside the plates before you flick the cog of a lighter and ignite the candles in the middle of the table.

You turn yourself around to grab the cookie sheet of ribeye off of the counter after pushing on mittens, holding it in your palm as you place two steaks down onto one of the plates, then one onto another. 

Then you take the tray back to the counter and set it back on top of the table cloth so it didn’t damage the marble.

Regardless of the fancy dinner setup, you were still in a black satin night dress and fuzzy socks. You knew Simon would just dress down himself the moment he got home.

You scooped steamed vegetables onto both plates, then potatoes and gravy with a sprinkle of chives. 

When you place down the spineless wine glasses, you hear a heavy door slam causing a smile to crease your face.

Simon was home, he was going to come inside and he was going to hold you again for the first time in months. Run his hands through your hair for the first time in months. Kiss you for the first time in months.

You seat yourself gently on the dinner table, ankle crossed over the other with your elbows bent and palms pressed neatly on the wood as you wait for him to come inside.

You hear the door open, then shut, heavy padded footsteps approaching the threshold of the dining room.

Ghost is the one who comes through the archway—fully geared with the skull mask and helmet, the only thing he lacks is a rifle.

“Simon…?” You push yourself off your palms, confusion whisked on your face.

It was one of your rules, the mask stays off inside your home.

His eyes land on the neatly set table before they reach yours. 

You approach him slowly and he tenses, your eyebrows stitching together in concern.

His stomach twists inside of him.

Gorgeous minx.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Beautiful perfection.

He couldn’t say anything he wanted to—and god he had so much to say.

Your eyes flicker to the windows alongside the front door seeing two other bodies.

Armed bodies.

He wasn’t staying.

“Can you all stay for dinner atleast? I made enough for everyone…” you smile softly while fumbling with the straps of his vest. 

Stop touching me, you’re making this harder on me. Ghost swallows the knot in his throat. 

There’s a pause before Ghost backs up.

“There’s someone else.” 

It’s a lie, it’s a lie. It’s such a lie. Ghost 

Something inside your chest tightens and you swear that it’s your heart. 

“What?…” You scoff lightly, your eyebrows pinching together in disbelief.

Don’t make me say it again. Ghost inhales sharply.

“Simon…” you tilt your head slightly, extending your hand to touch him.

“Please, let me try to be better for you, give me a chance…” your lips quiver. 

You don’t need to try and be better for me. Ghost thinks.

He knew you’d been reading articles on how to be in a relationship with someone in the special forces—he’d found out and closed the lid, sat you in his lap and kissed you so softly, telling you that you were perfect for him and you didn’t need an article to tell you how to love him.

But you know it’s real when Ghost jerks his shoulder away.

You know it’s real when you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as tears start welling in your eyes. 

You know it’s real when Ghost’s eyes evade yours. 

You know it’s real when Simon turns around and he doesn’t spare you a goodbye.  

You especially know it’s real when the door slams shut and rattles the walls around you.

It’s surreal, but you expected this. 

He must’ve found someone on base, you thought.

You feel your knees give in beneath you, and you’re met with the floor.

A hysterical sobbed scream leaves your throat as your trembling hand lifts to drag down at your lips.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

Ghost stands for a moment on the doormat outside of your home. 

Gaz’s hand finds a place on his back, the other holding his vest as he guides the larger male towards the truck they’d arrived in.

“Didn’t have to do that, Ghost.” He says, followed by a sigh.

“Did.” Ghost replies back as he seats himself in the back. “Wasn’t lettin’ her get my dog tags—she’s been through enough bein’ with me.”

Soap turns his head over his shoulder after sitting in the front passenger seat. 

“Ay, L.T, we all know y’ll make it back t’ya pretty lass.” He says. “Y’r one of we bes’ fighters, ain’t that righ’, Kyle?” Soap’s elbow bumped into Gaz’s ribs.

Gaz utters a strained noise before nodding, hands wrapping around the wheel.

“‘M not takin’ that risk, now shu’up ‘n drive. Cap’s gon’ ‘b pissy enough.” 

His head turns to look out the window as he feels the wheels of the truck roll down the driveway.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

It’s been seven months. Two-hundred-thirteen days. 

All you do is work, eat, and sleep. 

Eating, not as much as you should.

You couldn’t cook, couldn’t get yourself up from your bed the second you got home from work to start the stove.

You either sleep all day or not at all, there wasn’t a balance.

God, your living room was disgusting. Snot tissues were littered across the entire coffee table, empty champagne glasses, crusted food plates and crushed soda cans.

You’d resorted to hiring a maid just to clean your living room—which was the only room you stayed in for five months straight while your depression started getting progressively worse.

You lay on your side with a weighted blanket draped over you, holding you down comfortably. 

Simon stayed in your head, even after half of a year. He invaded your head. It drove you insane.

At the same time, you were scared of the day that he wouldn’t be your first and last thought each and every day anymore.

You bunch the blanket closer to your chin, your wet eyes have drenched the little area to hell. 

Things just have never been the same since Simon left the house–-you still happened to feel his presence next to you, hovering over you. 

“There’s someone else.”  His words settled an uneasy weight on your shoulders that you still were unable to shake off. 

A splutter of sobs escapes you once again, tears blurring your vision as they fall and your nose starts to clog. 

You try to breathe in, but you feel as though there’s not enough air around you. You breaking into a coughing fit is enough for you to push the weighted blanket off of your body and heave yourself up. 

Spit and drool creates several small strings between your lips–you’re practically foaming at the mouth from how hard you’re crying.

Tears flutter off your eyelashes and further blur your vision, so you try and rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms desperately. 

You stand up wobbly and start towards the bathroom, you didn’t have the energy to walk the extra couple of steps into your bedroom to use your own bathroom, so the guest bathroom would have to do for now. 

You turn the shower knob and pull it out towards you after undressing, then step into the warmth and sink onto the shower floor, hugging your knees to your bare chest and letting the water run over your face. 

Sobs cause your body to twitch and jerk, the heat in your eyes making your eyes burn as your breathing grows unsteady over the stream of water above you. 

You just wanted him home. 

But, he wasn’t yours to want home anymore. 

He wasn’t yours to crave anymore or to love. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

A door slams so hard air causes the fabric of his shirt to flail in the wind. 

Ghost had spent months struggling with the actions of his decision, where he had hoped that the choice would break you free of your shackles of worries when it came to the blonde when he was away. 

He spent every night and every rising morning worrying someone would take his place. It would’ve been his fault, he knew that, and it made him want to scream at the top of his lungs until they felt raw in his chest. 

He presses the lock button on his keys, hearing the locks inside the jeep click, then he jumbles with his keychain looking for the house key.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he pinches the specific key and jabs it into the door lock, turning it.

When he hears the all-familiar click, he immediately pulls off his balaclava and pushes himself through the front door. 

There’s silence–pure silence throughout the house except for the sound of running water. 

She’s showering. 

A short amount of relief washes over him as he bends to untie the laces of his boots, placing them aside. 

When he stands, his eyes scan over to the living room and he feels his heart sink in him at the sight of the absolute mess made of the living room.

An overflowing laundry basket and take-out boxes that made the room stink of old fried rice. 

He throws his bag behind him against the wall before he walks himself towards the pile of laundry and begins pulling out shirts and pairs of pants to fold against his knee. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You took a two hour shower, most of it being of you shredding any form of emotion from your body that you could.

Now you were sitting on the fur-covered toilet seat, running your lotion-coated hands along your freshly shaven legs. 

You told yourself you would try going to a club to replenish your sex deprivation. 

Steam finally clears from the mirror allowing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands pull the towel off your head, wet hairs sticking to your shoulders.

The bathroom smelt of your coconut milk shampoo and body wash–it smelt divine. 

You thumb up your white laced bra and panties, plug in the blow dryer and scrunch your mop in your hands as you wave the blow dryer over your hair.

It seems like hours, being only nearly ten minutes until your hair is somewhat dry, but your arms are tired, so you unplug the dryer and wrap the cord around it.

You leave the bathroom and walk back into the living room, pausing in motion at the sight of it being clean–your laundry being neatly folded on the coffee table. 

“Kris? Is that you?” You call, not too loudly. 

She had a key to your home, but she had stated she wouldn’t be available this week due to some personal reasons she wasn’t required to go over with you.

You walk over towards the couch and drag your hand along the cotton material.

There was no reply to your call, which concerned you. You hadn't contacted any of your family members to come visit.

You slowly turn yourself around and the breath is practically stolen from your lungs. 

Simon’s standing across the room from you, clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, a belt secured in the front.

You watch his eyes drag up and down your exposed body, watching as he inhales sharply while his eyes narrow.

“Love,” He mumbles. 

Your eyebrows furrow and you lift your neck up. “Why–why are you here?” “Will y’let me explain?” He sighs. 

“Does she know?” You reply quickly with a shaky voice. 

“Does wh–” 

“Does she know you are here, Simon.” 

There's silence, then he licks his dry lips.

“There is no she.” He says flatly.

“No,” you scoff, running a hand down your face, eyes darting to the side as you listen to him walk closer toward you. “No…no. No–I remember specifically…” your angry, now.

Simon catches your lips in a firm kiss, but you push him away, and the look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Please,” Simon’s eyebrows pinch together. 

“Stop, just stop.” You seethe, pressing your finger into the midsection of his chest making him back up some. “You said there was someone else, you said–”

“I was lyin’, there wasn’t.” He pauses, frowning.

“Bullshit,” you shake your head. “Fucking bullshit, Simon Riley!”

“Let m’talk.” Simon says gruffly, his tone stern. 

You swallow thickly and lower your head in defeat after nodding, finger lifting so you can chew on your cuticle bed. 

“I…I let a debriefing get t’me. Said there wasn’t much’a chance of survival–can’t say much, y’know that…but I didn’t want y’to have to go through that.” He explains. 

His hand reaches down to lift your chin, thumbing at any stray tears making their way down your cheeks. “Forgive me, lovie.” Simon leans down to close the gap between you both again, this time you submit and his hand cradles the back of your head. 

The kiss is slow and passionate–gentle with its hints of dominance. 

“Missed you…” He mumbles over your lips, hands finding your ass to knead the supple skin.

You gasp slightly, but cave in to his touch instantly. “And I missed you…” 

“Please…never do that again.” 

His forehead rests on yours a moment, fingers toying in your hair by rolling pieces between his fingers.

“‘M sorry.” He murmurs. 

He wasn’t the type to apologize, you knew that. His apologies were sincere and meaningful.

Your hands grip his shirt.

“Over half a year, Simon…” Your voice is so low, you couldn’t even call it a whisper. “This whole time…”

“I know…I know…” He mutters into your hair, taking in your scent. 

“Will y’let me make it up to ya, love?” Hot breath rakes over the side column of your neck.

You simply nod, and that’s all enough for him to pick you up by your thighs and for you to wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him.

He guides you both into your bedroom, seating you on the edge of the bed.

“So fuckin’ sexy when y’r half-naked ‘n angry…” Simon chuckles dryly as he drags a finger up your clothed cunt. 

“Simon…please…” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I’ve got’ya, gorgeous.” He says cooly while laying you flat on the bed. 

Simon slips his fingers past your panties, his cock twitching in his pants at the feeling of your wetness spreading along his fingers.

“Ffff..uck, babe, you're so wet for me ‘lready…” he whispers.

You gasp as his finger slips up and down between your folds, making you twitch as he passes your throbbing clit.

“So fuckin’ divine…” he purrs above you, eyes full of love and lust. His other hand finds a place on your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he works at your warmth.

You whine, watching as his teeth bite at the lace lining of your panties, pulling them down as his eyes don’t stray from yours.

“Oh…fuck…” you bite your lip gently, the action making you fanny flutter to the point of aching.

“Jesus…” he breathes against your thigh, pressing his lips along the skin and sucking it until he’s satisfied with the markings.

Simon scoops up both of your legs by the crooks of your knees, spreading them apart as he shifts down to rest his knees on the ottoman spread across the end of the bed.

A shuddered moan releases from you as his tongue prods at the hole in your cunt, then drags up to swirl around your sensitive bud. 

Your hand grabs a tight hold in his hair, making him groan against your core and increase the pressure and sensation in your stomach.

A whimper leaves your throat as he sucks and laps at your pussy, making you buck into his jaw.

“Jus’ like that, baby,” he growls onto you, pressing a wet kiss onto your clit. “Y’gon cum all over m’face like a good girl?” 

You mewl and cry out as Simon slips a finger inside, your back arching and thighs jerking.

“Simon!” You gasp loudly as your fingers dig into his back over his shirt.

His tongue drags flatly up your cunt, collecting all your juices—he’s practically drinking you. 

Another finger pushes inside gently, curling inside that same spot he’s able to find so effortlessly each time that makes you go wild.

“Gon’ c…cum…” you stutter meekly.

“C’mon then,” he urges. “Cum f’r me.”

Simon quickened his pace and the pressure, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out.

Like he was starved, his face presses closer into you, tongue toying at your clit making you twitch against him.

There’s an unbearable heat between your legs as you feel a knot tie in your abdomen when Simon levered his fingers deeper into you. 

“Good…” he groans, pressing his tongue inside with his fingers as your walls clamp around him desperately, a strained moan leaving you as your orgasm snaps.

You cum, hard, and grip his shoulders with both hands as his fingers fuck your orgasm back into you before he finally pulls his fingers out to coat your thighs in your climax.

Simon sucks out his work, then spits it back out onto your heat, slapping your pussy and releasing a deep groan.

He licks his fingers clean, his tongue sliding between each finger. 

You lift yourself up by gripping his belt, slightly wobbling before his hand finds a spot to rest on your back.

“Fuckin’ hell…cum drunk ‘lready, sweets?” Simon bends down to take your mouth onto his, taking the chance to slip his tongue between your lips when you moan into his.

Gently, you palm his hard cock over his pants, eyes squeezing shut then opening to find your place on his belt and fumble with the buckle.

“Mm—y’find what you were lookin’ f’r?” He pants heavily before his lips trail down your jawline to lick and suck at your neck. 

“Oh..fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. 

“Want you so bad, Si…” you moan, lifting your head to grant him better access. “Want to feel you inside of me.” 

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room while he kicks off his pants that you helped pull down Simon’s hips, lips then coming back down to tease at your collarbones and neck.

“Ooh..ho…you will, don’t y’worry, sweet girl.” His cock sprung free out of the restraints of his boxers, making him groan hoarsely.

Simon’s fingers tap on the outerside of your thigh. “Turn over,” he demands.

You babble out nonsense that is incoherent as you flip on your stomach and one of his hands gather both of your wrists. 

He’s on the bed now, between your legs with one hand holding you up by your stomach. 

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, lips trailing up your spine.

“Y’want it?” He growls. “Huh?”

He inhales sharply, nudging the tip into your greedy hole. “God…you do…” 

“J’s suckin’ me in like th’needy little pet y’are.”

You moan out a chant of pleases, cheek pressing into the comforter of the bed as he arches and positions you to his liking.

“Y’want this thick cock in y’r empty pussy.” 

“Yes…” you mumble, backing into him 

softly until you take in his entire tip which causes the larger man to apply more pressure into your stomach. “Fuck me, please…please…”

“Oh…Mmm…Such a good girl beggin’ f’r my cock.” Simon praises, letting you bounce on his tip for a few moments.

“Tha’s right baby…jus’ like that…I own this pretty little cunt, don’t I?” He snarls. “Nobody else’s to fuck.” 

“Only yours, just yours,” you nod helplessly, earning a positive noise from the man behind you.

He takes in a sharp breath before slowly he inches himself into you farther, stretching you. 

Filling you.

You moan loudly, your walls closing around his length making him push out the same noise.

When he bottoms out in you, his tip kissing your cervix, he retracts and ruts back into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he hisses and breathes harsher at every thrust.

“Oh…” he sighs in ecstasy, releasing your wrists so he can grab the fat on your waist.

“Yes…” he moans, every contact with your hips causing the breath in his mouth to jump and fall.

“Tight little pussy just swallowing me,” Simon hisses through clenched teeth as he painfully yet deliciously stretches you open to his size. “So—fuckin’ sexy.” 

“Want y’to cum in me, please…” You gasp, clawing at the comforter as he bucks himself deep into you, filling you up and emptying you, repeating that motion over and over.

“Want me to fill y’with my seed?” He chuckles, a moan interrupting him. “Tha’s what my slutty pet wants?”

“Fucking yes! My god, yes…” you pant, muttering and whining unintelligibly as he slams back into you and makes your ass slap against his thighs. 

“Too bad,” he croons.

“Simon…pl..ease..” you moan.

“No…no, I can’t…cum in ya, love. We—we ain’t thinkin’ straight…” Simon’s cock twitches inside of you as he continues ramming his hips into yours, a guttural groan tearing out of him. 

“I can feel y’tightenin’ around me, j’s beggin’ to cum around my fat cock…” 

“There y’go…Bounce that gorgeous ass on me, j’s how I like it, babe.” Simon strains, hand roughly smacking the skin on your hind. 

You squirm against him, making the blonde growl and grab your hips with a bruising grip. “Y’feel me stretchin’ y’r tiny pussy?” 

“Mhm? Y’do?” He grunts, heaving above you as he thrusts himself into you. “Fuckin’ take it, filthy fuckin’ minx.”

“Look at you, such a pretty pet, bent to my content…Pussy out on display.” 

“Gonna cum, gorgeous, all over your perfect belly.” He mumbles and flips you onto your back.

You moan shamelessly and loudly, whining as he pulls out of you and starts stroking himself while playing with your pussy.

“Fu…u…ck…” his head leans back as you massage his balls and replace his hand. “J’s likeee…that, perfect girl…”

He rubs his middle and pointer finger over your clit at an inhuman pace, making your body jolt and try to push away if it weren’t for his hand holding you roughly in place.

You roll your wrist up and down, pumping his cock in your hand until he takes control again and smacks his tip against your lower abdomen, spilling out his cum onto your stomach with a choke of your name.

Simon’s body twitches, pants and swears rolling off his tongue in a pleading voice as he covers you in his warmth.

“C...C’mon lovie, cum all over my fingers again, let me sss…see y’come undone f’r me again…N…Need to see it…” He stumbles over his words as he comes off his high, an undertone of a whimper in his voice.

It makes you pool, your ego skyrocketing at the fact that you can do that to someone. To him.

Simon’s fingers hit every perfect nerve inside your pulsating cunt, curling and plummeting into the same spot of overwhelming pressure that brought you over the edge. 

A tightness coils in your stomach again, and he absolutely fucking loves the strained noises that spill out from you at every rut of his fingers inside of you.

He loves the way he can get you wrung out at every pet name and gentle touch, the way you clamp your thighs together at the smallest motions.

Simon knew your body better than you did, and he fucking loved it. He knew every spot that drove you absolutely mad and every crevice that had the ability to make you beg just how he wanted. 

Your eyes shoot open from their half-lidded proportion as Simon finds a certain spot that sends electricity throughout your entire body, making you cry out and dig your nails into his scar-ridden flesh.

“Righ’ there, huh, princess? Righ’ there?” He hisses which drawls out to a throaty growl, hammering that same spot with more pressure. “Couldn’t stand bein’ away fr’m this pussy f’r so long…” 

You chant ‘yes’ over and over again until your gasping and panting his name, your breath catching in your throat as you let out a loud cry through your climax, thighs trembling as they slowly close around his forearms in reflex.

He lifts your thighs up again and sits you on his lap as he pulls the covers over the both of you.

“Did s’good for me, lovie. Mmm…S’proud of you, baby.” Simon whispers, catching your lips in a ravenous kiss as he presses his cock inside of your warmth, pushing your climax back into you in a tranquil motion. 

“‘M gonna be right back, okay?” You coo against his lips as you swing your legs over the bed, he gives you a small ‘mhm’.

You quickly give yourself time to use the bathroom, then wash your hands before you walk yourself back into the room, crawling back into his lap before he turns the both of you to the side.

Simon unclips your brassiere and drops it onto the floor, cups both of your breasts in his palms and moans as you slide yourself back down onto his cock.

“Mmh…So warm…” he whispers huskily while kissing the nape of your neck down to your collarbones.

He spoons you, lulling you into a state of drowsiness as he gently massages your tits. Simon’s breath is a gentle pattern over your neck, gentle snores leaving the barriers of his lips after his hands go still.

You don’t take long to catch sleep right behind him, turning your head a moment to peck his wet lips before you’re able to finally shut your eyes.  

[vomitdodger]

So far:

At least two confirmed, by interview, prolonged attempts to alert police/security.

Drone footage of the shooter on the roof before firing. Have to assume rifle was visualized.

Video of snipers (not confirmed) visualizing shooter but not engaging until after multiple shots.

All this is known in a matter of hours. Imagine what we’ll know by this time tomorrow.

#setup.

#never trust the media again

#long live X

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 1 - Voyeurism

Kate Laswell x Bricks (CIA Asset OC)

CW: Dub-con/Non-con voyeurism (one person is not aware they are being watched), surveillance, sex work, dirty talk, degradation, impact play, daddy kink, too many mirrors, too much setup and an abrupt ending, big dogs

“Got me Watcher?” Bricks covers the movement of her mouth by touching up her lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“Coming in clear,” Kate answers. “Go ahead and run a final calibration on the lenses.” She marks the edges of the camera range as Bricks sweeps her eyes in a practiced pattern to confirm the fit and function of the contacts. When she crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, confusing the feed, Kate chuckles. “Save it for Mendoza.”

“Please,” Bricks snickers. “My best is wasted on him.”

The doors open. Two large men, Mendoza’s bodyguards, usher Bricks forward. Real professionals, Kate notes, neither of them letting their eyes linger on stunning legs or exposed cleavage. One waves a wand over her, hair to heels, and the other takes the clutch from Bricks’ hand. He rifles through it, then doesn’t give it back.

“My second best lipstick is in there,” Bricks protests, half-heartedly. “I’m gonna want that back, later.”

“You’ll get it back when you leave,” the man grunts. “Come with us please.”

“Give me doors,” Kate instructs as they proceed down the hall. The cameras flick almost aimlessly as her asset strides between her escorts, but Kate is ready. “Left again,” she murmurs, quickly tagging frames for review. “Good girl.”

Once Bricks is handed off to Mendoza, the real work starts. Dinner goes as expected. Mendoza brags and paws. Bricks is charming, flirty, and teasing. She plays every bit of her part while Kate half listens and reviews data on the guards. Contractors, she notes as Bricks titters about something. Mendoza is just oggling her tits, so Kate continues reading the dossier. Contractors, good ones. Ex-military, but unlikely to see Bricks for the threat she is. The only problem will be-

“Puppies,” Bricks coos, as two Rottweilers come trotting up to the table. “I love dogs. How old are they?”

“They’re trained as part of the security detail,” Kate states as Mendoza goes on about pedigree. “German commands.”

Bricks kisses one of the dogs on the snout. “Do they know any tricks?”

“They’re trained killers,” the mark brags. “Only listen to me and designated handlers.”

“The handler command is folge mir,” Kate provides. Luckily, Bricks isn’t able to comment on her abysmal accent. “Ruhig. Geh runter.”

It doesn’t take long for Mendoza to send the dogs away, tired of not being the center of attention. And Bricks plays him like a fiddle, drawing him all around the penthouse to give Kate sight lines, the layout, and an unobstructed view of the server room through the kitchen.

When he finally catches her, Kate cant help but snort. “Is he as bad a kisser as he sounds? Your not usually this all over the place."

Bricks doesn’t bother to hold back a soft laugh. Mendoza lifts his mouth from her neck with an almost affronted grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” she giggles, with a peck to his lips. “Ticklish, and I just feel good with you.”

“Can I make you feel better?”

“Here’s hoping,” Kate mutters as she counts server racks in Bricks’ periphery. The woman’s laugh rings off the marble counter tops.

Kate doesn’t bother watching the feed as Bricks kisses Mendoza down the hall, eyes closed to avoid any chance he might notice her contacts. When she opens her eyes again, Kate stifles a groan and pulls out her cigarettes. Mendoza’s bedroom has an entire wall of mirrors, and another on the wall above his headboard. Bricks kisses him some more, but in no time, she’s bent over the bed, looking at her own breasts nearly spilling from the top of her dress.

She’s there for… a lot longer than Kate expected. Whatever Mendoza is doing, she looks as bored as she ever does when she’s in character. Kate decides to step in when she moans, rote.

“Oh no,” Kate chuckles, grinning when Bricks’ eyes snap to her reflection. “I know you can do better than that. If I have to watch you have sex, you’re going to make it worth my while. Get that ass in the air, lets’s see if Mendoza can’t be good for something.”

Bricks’ next moan is much more resonant. Mendoza echoes her as he bends over her back, no doubt pressing his cock against her barely there panties.

“Ask for a spanking,” Kate commands, lighting a cigarette. “Ask nice, the way I like.”

“Please spank me, daddy,” Bricks moans, holding eye contact with the mirror, staring directly at Kate.

“Good girl, there you go,” Kate purrs, over Mendoza’s tiresome noises. “Too bad he’s going to be such a shit lay. You’re right, your best is wasted on him. Say thank you.”

Bricks hisses after Mendoza gives her three quick, sloppy strikes. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Fuck, you’re a slut, huh?” Mendoza flips her, and Kate laughs to see the mirrored tiles on the ceiling. “I can be your daddy, baby girl.”

“I’m tired of hearing his voice,” Kate scoffs. “Put his mouth to use.”

Bricks opts to grab a fistful of his hair and drag the man down her body. Kate gets to enjoy the view of her, chest heaving and disheveled as she winks up at her reflection. There’s no rolling eyes - there’s nothing of interest in the room, really, and Mendoza is apparently all noise and no skill.

“Touch yourself,” Kate commands. “Give yourself a show, beautiful.”

Bricks draws the fingers of her free hand down her neck, toying with her necklace before pushing the fabric of her dress down beneath full breasts. Kate makes an appreciative noise when she pinches a nipple. The woman in the mirror moans and arches her hips into the mouth between her thighs. Her eyes go half-lidded, when Mendoza pulls away to pant against her, one hand working its way up to prod at her. He groans something about “wet” and “tight,” like he had anything to do with the first and doesn’t understand the implications of the second.

“Please,” Bricks moans at her reflection.

“Oh,” Kate chuckles, “Is he really that good?”

“Roll over,” Mendoza growls as he stands. He’s dropped his pants and underwear.

“No,” Kate snorts. “I’m not watching your bored face as you compare him to Ghost. Ride him.”

All it takes is one skilled twist of Bricks’ hips before Mendoza is lying on his back, groaning under the woman Kate could command to kill him at any moment.

But Kate simply sits back in her chair. “Finish him off before I finish this cigarette, and I’ll let you come.”

Bricks narrows her eyes at the mirror. Kate can almost hear her calculating how long it’s been since she heard the click of the lighter. And then she balances on the balls of her feet and Kate grins as she watches the woman tear Mendoza’s orgasm from him with brutal efficiency.

“Good girl.”

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

what do you think is funnier: Selûne rifling through her list of clerics to set her daughter up with someone Appropriate bc she knows Aylin is a huge lesbian and will go helm over greaves as soon as she likes a girl (and setting up a meet cute once she picks Isobel) or Aylin coming home to the astral sea like MOTHER I HAVE LIT UPON A MATE MOST GLORIOUS and Selûne's realization she has been privy to some incredibly private prayers recently that have indeed been about her daughter

This ask is hilarious and I love it. I am adding "helm over greaves" to my repertoire immediately.

Now I'm imagining a secret third option where Selûne is getting a bit frustrated and sad that her daughter is sort of stuck in a rut, being entirely too serious and duty-focused to the exclusion of allowing herself actual good things and worldly/mortal experiences, stubbornly erring on the side of the divine and such. Maybe this is her twentieth recent moon-blessed meet-cute setup attempt and they just keep not clicking, and Selûne would never push things because free will and all that, you know? But alas, an awful track record for the goddess whose portfolio once used to include love and marriage! Then going all divine proclamation "AYLIN MY BELOVED DAUGHTER MY MOST LOYAL KNIGHT I HAVE A LOFTY DUTY OF GREAT IMPORT FOR YOU" and she sends her to yes, sure, watch over this entire super-devoted region and long family line, but have you seen that sweet and very talented cleric who seems lonely, too? (Sune eating holy popcorn in the background.)

Man, all this just makes me realise I crave some fluffy shenanigans with these two. Yes, their storylines are super steeped in tragedy and bittersweet and doomed mortal/immortal stuff but there's also so much hilarity potential there. Starting with, but not limited to, "the god I am a cleric of is my mother-in-law". And then maybe throw in some courtly love knight/lady trappings in there. Delicious.

You've reminded me of swear i was born right in the doorway which is a really funny fic that has a bit of Selûne going "Isobel you're very nice but please stop praying about my daughter to me". Also gonna drop a quick shoutout to Five easy steps to successfully kidnapping your very own peasant wife! (um, actually, she’s an angel?) which is a newly posted one that seems to be deliberately going in those romcom-y tropey directions and I dig it. I hear there's only going to be one bed at the inn! Hard to beat that.

[trivialbob]

I just heard from Sheila. Today she towed our trailer to Wisconsin by herself and got it set up. She didn't call me for any help. Not that she isn't capable, but I usually drove and did the outside setup while she took care of the inside. I still have to work the rest of the week. The dogs and I will join her on the weekend.

We decided to get a seasonal RV spot. It won't cost much more than we've been paying at a local storage place. Towing every other weekend was starting to feel like a chore, so we're trying this for a year. Now either or both of us can take the car or motorcycles and get away for a few days. The campground has a pool and lodge. It's also near a town we like and where we know the owners of a bar.

Sometime after Sheila left one of our garage door springs broke. I was home all day and didn't hear it happen. When a spring broke a few years ago it sounded like someone fired a rifle inside the garage (I was inside the house, upstairs, when that happened).

I couldn't remember who fixed it last time so I looked up the nearest company. They have of good reviews, and I like to support local businesses, so the choice was easy. Bonus points for ease of scheduling. I was able to choose 9:00 AM tomorrow. I was expecting to have to wait a few days.

[green-eyedfirework]

It started with the Morino contract.

No.  That was a lie.  It really started—not really really, that was the time Nightwing leaned up when Slade was pinning him to the wall and grinned, soft and slow and wicked, and Slade had growled don’t be a tease and Nightwing murmured who said I’m teasing and Slade had half-thought it was a trap, but no, apparently Nightwing’s taste in people that could overpower him ran to villains too—with a lazy morning in Dick’s apartment in Bludhaven.

Slade had been making breakfast, idly watching Dick walk around in a too-big shirt and nothing else, when Dick had gotten a phone call.  The lazy mornings were...he didn’t want to say content, but after the third time Dick asked him to stay for breakfast, blue eyes sleepy but bright, and clarified that he wasn’t making it a Thing, Jesus Christ, Slade, I’m not trapping you into a promise ring, it’s just food—they were peaceful.  The kid wasn’t a half-bad cook, he definitely didn’t believe in covering clothes, and sometimes Slade even got another fuck before he headed out.

Dick ended his phone call and came back into the kitchen, giving him a wry smile.  “You’re going to have to leave.  B will be here in ten minutes.”

Slade raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the cooking hashbrown.

“Don’t be a baby, you can make some more.  Or just buy some.”  Dick had grabbed his arm and was tugging him out of the kitchen.  “What you definitely don’t want is to still be here when Bruce shows up.”

Slade allowed himself to be pulled out, casting a last glance at his hashbrown.  “Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of me.”

“Ha.  There are several things that Bruce should never know, and that I’m fucking Deathstroke the Terminator is one of them.  Shoo.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry, do you want Batman on your ass?  No?  Then I’ll see you later, Slade.  And thanks for breakfast!”

“You’re a brat,” Slade collected his stuff—he hadn’t come to Bludhaven for business, so there was only one gun and a couple of knives to grab—and headed for the window.  “And I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because I’m flexible,” Dick grinned at him as he shimmied into a pair of leggings, as delightfully shameless as always, and Slade allowed himself one last look at that ass before leaving.

He didn’t understand the twisting feeling in his stomach.

Dick had done nothing wrong aside from stealing his breakfast, Slade had absolutely no desire to meet Batman, and Slade had just as unceremoniously kicked Dick out from his own safehouses.

It was nothing.  He was just hungry.  He hunted down food, and put it out of his head.

Until the Morino contract.

Slade didn’t usually take assassination contracts in Bludhaven—best not to rock that particular boat—but he’d followed Morino down from New York City, and he wasn’t going to wait for him to leave just to put a bullet in his head.  Besides, the way his luck went, Morino would end up fleeing to Gotham, and Slade was not dealing with the Bats.

The setup was easy—he took position, unpacked and assembled his rifle, waited.  And took the shot.

He was halfway through disassembly when he heard the whine of a grapple.

“You chased someone into my city,” Nightwing was stalking forward, all furious lines, “to kill them?!”

Slade made a show of glancing around.  “I don’t see your name on it,” he said dryly, palming his knives as he rose up.

“Real cute,” Nightwing snarled, slipping his escrima free.

“Next time I’ll take them outside city limits to spare your delicate sensibilities,” Slade drawled.

Nightwing growled and lunged, Slade met his attack, and the familiar motions of a fight began.  Just when Slade was starting to suspect that Nightwing was actually pissed and this fight wasn’t foreplay, Nightwing made an inarticulate sound and practically smashed their faces together, kissing Slade like he was trying to devour him.

That, Slade could get behind, and he let the niggling question go as he matched Nightwing’s intensity.

~#~

Slade slipped out before Dick woke up—not an unusual occurrence, but certainly rarer over the past few months—and told himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with Nightwing’s whining over Slade killing someone in his city.

~#~

It was a lot harder to excuse his avoidance of Bludhaven.  He rationalized it by saying he was giving Dick time to cool down—except Dick had made no indication of being angry after the fight, he’d cuddled up to Slade without only a sleepy yawn after the fuck, and Slade wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so uncertain with the state of their relationship.

They had sex.  Great sex.  Sleeping afterwards, well, that was just comfortable, and breakfast in the morning was a bonus.  Their respective jobs had never gotten in the way before—Dick hadn’t made any mention of ground rules outside of sex, didn’t care.  It was just sex.

He could almost see Wintergreen’s raised eyebrow when he kept passing up contracts on the Eastern Seaboard.

[incorrectbatfam]

The 'Batfam on Reddit' post was fun and I won't mind another one! (I have nothing specific in mind besides more sibling shenanigans)

Going down the list, here's Jason

———————

Posted to r/AmITheAsshole by user local-zombie

AITA for changing my grandpa's cookie recipe? 

Earlier this week, one of my (22M) sisters decided to fill my rifle with purple glitter. As revenge, I swapped the salt and sugar before she made her waffles this morning. Prank worked, yada yada, that's not why I'm here though. 

See, like a dumbass, I forgot to switch them back. I've been running on 4 hours of sleep and I'm not even home half the time, sue me. It didn't really hit me until I was watching my grandpa make his signature chocolate chip cookies. 

This was some cinematic shit, I tell you. Everything happened in slow motion. Before I could say anything, he dumped an entire cup of salt into the batter followed by a teaspoon of sugar and started the stand mixer. It seemed then that all was lost. 

Out of nowhere, my dad—and I can't believe I'm saying this—descended like an angel from the heavens and asked my grandpa to help him with his hair. And lucky for me, I'm the only other person trusted to be in the kitchen. My grandpa told me to put the cookies in the oven before he went upstairs. 

This is where I might be the asshole. 

I needed to fix the dough immediately, so I added extra sugar and chopped up some caramel candy to (hopefully) turn it into some halfway-decent salted caramel chocolate chip cookies. Then I scooped them out, threw them in the oven, and prayed harder than the goddamn Pope himself. 

Apparently God had a high call volume though, because as soon as the plate hit the table, my ENTIRE family knew something was up, like a bunch of fucking detectives or some shit. And they immediately blamed me. They're not wrong, but the fact that that's their first reaction is totally unjustified. 

Anyway, now my family's pissed off and my dad thinks I should've just told gramps, but I think trying to fix the situation should count for something. So, Reddit, AITA? 

Comments

bluebirdz: Did they taste good? |— local-zombie: Not like the original, but a solid 7/10 |—— bluebirdz: All's well that ends well. NTA

redrobin: yta |— local-zombie: At least provide some reasoning |—— redrobin: no

starfire: NTA but next time give them a heads up |— your-tired-librarian: Also voting NTA but OP should've fessed up from the beginning.  |—— thatpurplething: I'm saying YTA for the waffle part |——— orphanized: not relevant |———— thatpurplething: It is to me

i-am-the-darkness-i-am-the-light: NTA for the way you handled it, that was pretty smart. YTA for tampering with food as a prank tho :/

notmysecretanimeaccount: You are indeed the donkey cavity for the poor setup and execution. |— local-zombie: Dude just say ass |—— notmysecretanimeaccount: Ass cavity. Happy? |——— local-zombie: Not what I was thinking but I'll take it |———— lesbian-premium: Congratulations on the worse conversation the internet's ever had

kyle-rayner: YTA. Just in general

assenal: nta. your family is overreacting

dickwings: soft yta. how would you feel if you were expecting one thing but got blindsided by something completely different? |— local-zombie: I'd just deal with it instead of whining like a pissbaby pretty boy |—— dickwings: nvm make that a hard yta |——— local-zombie:🖕

kitty-central: ESH. You for what you did, your family for how they reacted |— pennyworthy: At last, a sensible answer. 

official-batman: YTA. And grounded. 

[formula-wind]

choose your agent! — valorant mains of furin high first years

※ headcanons for wind breaker characters as valorant players ft. sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suo hayato, & sugishita kyotaro

Sakura Haruka — instalock duelist

Like with gang fights, he definitely had his fair share of experiences with cocky duelists so it’s no surprise he tries to take the main damage-dealer role first in his team when he queues for a game.

Reyna would be the first one Haruka tries to pick because of the agent’s self-sustaining nature. No need to rely on teammates for entry support or heals—relating well with his independent character.

I mean, Reyna’s blind wont affect his teammates so there’s no reason for them to yell at him for bad blind timings or wasting heals so less problems!

Though not that he would admit this, but he also thinks she’s the most useful agent for helping the team out.

No one is an initiator? Haruka entries site for the team with a blind, killing anyone there who stops his team from getting in.

No one is a sentinel? Haruka stays behind to guard their backs trying to stay alive for as long as possible to protect the spike (when attacking) or site (when defending).

No one is a controller? Well, he can’t really do much with Reyna’s abilities but he does hunt down enemies when he has ultimate available to reduce the team’s worries.

Definitely sets a good example for how Reyna mains should be.

He also just hates being in a team with Reyna players who talk shit more than get kills. Who doesn’t though?

Because of this, he does understand that instalocking Reyna would get his teammates assuming he’s one of the bad players but he couldn’t care less when they express their annoyance.

Haruka can and will prove them wrong, after all.

However, in extremely rare cases where people instalock duelists before him, he either dodges (95% of the time since he just wont be able to stand the possibility of egoistical teammates) or picks Chamber.

Why? He can stay behind guarding flank or site strongly as his “dumbass teammates” charge the enemies.

With his shooting skills, he can really makes the most out of Chamber’s abilities.

Also because of chamber’s pistol and rifle ultimate, he’s also able to buy a gun for a teammate if needed. Again, definitely not something he would admit, but if pointed out, best believe he’s going to scream in voice chat about how irresponsible his team is with credits.

Akihiko Nirei — sentinel or controller strategist

We all know how proactive he is with gathering information about guys he finds cool so I am pretty sure that when he gets really into Valorant he has a notebook full of strategy plans, setups, and lineups from his research and actual game experiences.

His analytical skills and game-knowledge would definitely make him the best supporting member of the team.

Nirei would be that person that waits for everyone to pick their agent before picking his to avoid complaints and to work with the team dynamic.

If a sentinel is needed, fits well with the team and the map; he would most likely select Killjoy.

He probably mastered a lot of swarm + alarm bot setups. Though, he does like using the same setups twice or more instead of switching it up if it works against the enemy.

Probably does it because he thinks the enemy wouldn’t expect such plans to be executed again (not really true most of the time).

Good thing about Nirei is he knows what he’s capable and not capable of; he understands his weaknesses so he plays it safe to not become a burden to his teammates.

Enemies call him a rat for being so skilled with his utility usage, and he takes it as a compliment with pride.

Loves playing post-plant lineups! He practices a lot in custom before each ranked game.

However, if his team needs a controller to block out sections of a site to secure entries, he’s playing Astra.

Now, Astra is probably one of the toughest agents to master since it needs good map awareness skills and team coordination so Nirei only picks her if he knows his team can give good comms and support (like if he would be playing with the other bofurin members).

He would definitely take pride in assisting his teammates with getting kills by using concuss (nova pulse) and pulling enemies (gravity well).

May get too focused with getting his abilities set up and activated right so he would need someone to watch his back (he has been trolled and stabbed multiple times, which sometimes led to really funny games).

Truly the teammate with the braincells we all need (and aspire to be).

Suo Hayato — duelist-like sentinel or full-on duelist

He is a Sage main. 100%. No doubt.

Oh but Hayato's not your stereotypical bottom frag “team before me” Sage main.

He’s the type that would carry the whole team—some would even say he’s one of those “selfish” Sage players.

Why she’s his first pick? Simple: fun walls.

He doesn’t really like walling off the spike since it doesn't provide good entertainment he knows his walls can be used for better uses.

He loves tormenting the enemy with crazy Sage wall placements, getting kills without the enemy knowing where they’re getting shot at brings him so much joy—it’s almost sadistic.

You think a wall is misplaced so bad it lets you enter the site easier? Wrong. Hayato's behind you getting your team one by one.

Sometimes he drags it out, watching the enemy team get past him when they don’t check their corners and follows them to the site—and if they’re attacking—he does the little ninja defuse trick; defusing the spike as soon as the other team has planted it.

With his healing orbs, he is still very supportive of his team and usually heals them first instead of himself, not really minding if they still die first after getting healed. He’s pretty confident with his shooting skills so he survives well without needing additional health stats.

He plays at a distance so even on low health he is able to get frags.

His slow orbs are also mainly there for its regular use of keeping enemies at bay, but also torment his team members if they’re getting on his nerves—which doesn’t happen often.

The reviving ultimate? If his team keeps asking to be revived best believe he’s only using it to use the revived bodies as a shield or revives them in the most inconvenient moment.

When given the chance to be a duelist, he is definitely picking Jett.

You really can’t convince me otherwise cause her swift play style suits well with Hayato's character.

Those updraft knife trick shots on tiktok? He does them at least once a game to bring down the enemy’s mental.

Would probably be like a Tenz with Jett’s ultimate. He would save the other abilities if he knows he has or is getting his ultimate soon to do those crazy killer dash moves.

This is pretty much self-explanatory so I don’t know what else to say. Hayato is graceful; Jett lets him prove it in game.

Sugishita Kyotaro — hunting-focused initiator

Probably not the most active player in Bofurin but when he does play, he’s playing Fade.

Is probably only ever playing fade because it fits the most with him though.

Short explanation: their auras match well; scary and will be out to torment you.

Long explanation: if he’s playing with Umemiya, he’s probably using Fade to provide support and keep the enemy as far from him as possible.

Since he also doesn’t talk much, Fade uncovering the location of enemies helps him be useful for his team without needing much interaction. I mean, the agent literally can direct you to enemies with the ultimate ability so what else is there to point out?

I also see him as a very proactive corner-checker so Fade’s haunt and prowler is really handy for him. No corner of the site is left unchecked with Kyotaro around!

However, I can’t really picture him using seize that much for capturing enemies so I think he doesn’t really purchase it. If they’re out in the open, he likes killing them head-on so he doesn’t see much value to the said skill.

Overall, even as a one-agent player, he definitely excels with making the most out of Fade’s abilities.

a/n: depending on whether or not anyone is actually interested in this i may turn this into a series,,