#so it just builds up and the pressure of it kinda hurts

[reading-writing-dying]

God I wish I could turn off my emotions for just a little bit

[demarogue]

Gettin' Through the Holidays Mental Health Tricks

If y'all are anything like me, this time of year is triggering AF. Here are some small, very easy grounding exercises that I was taught by my therapist, basically in order of how much I like them for this rage-inducing season. You make like them in a different order, depending on your rage-to-despair ratio.

Push a wall: literally go up to a wall and try to push it over. Really try. I promise you won't push it over, but give it your best shot. Try to hold it as long as you can, and then take a breather and assess whether you need to repeat. Why it works: This is a quick, physical expulsion of the fight-or-flight feeling. It's a bit like punching a wall, but without the potential to hurt yourself/look scary/damage things. You can even do it in front of people and say you're stretching, they'll never know (unless the wall actually falls down, but this will not happen, I assure you).

Shake like a dog: Animals shake to release stress, and you are also an animal. Setting aside time to just shake it out, as vigorously as you can, arms and legs, face, stick your tongue out, pretend you're shaking like a wet dog. You can dance instead, if that feels better, and you can do this to music, but basically the more unhinged you can be, the better. If you are in a place you can scream, scream too! Why it works: like the above, this is a release of pent-up stress and anxiety. Especially if your rage-to-woe ratio is high, some kind of physical exertion is often the best way to burn through the cortisol and adrenaline you're building up.

Bilateral Tapping: Cross your arms over your chest so that your fingertips are at your shoulders, and slowly tap, one hand at a time, back and forth, for about a minute. Breathe slowly. Why it works: This is weird as hell, but because this engages both sides of your brain, it helps override the activity of the amygdala, which is the part of your brain that Makes The Fear. If you're being literally triggered in a situation, i.e. you're having a trauma response, or reliving some family trauma, this is a good one.

Box Breathing: From a comfortable position (can really be seated, laying down or standing), inhale slowly for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, exhale for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, then repeat. You can do it for shorter counts or longer counts, but if you vary the counts make sure the exhale is longer than the inhale. You can close your eyes or leave them open. Why it works: This exercise helps you move from a sympathetic (activated) nervous system response to a parasympathetic (balanced) response. I do this one every day, and it's a good gateway to meditation. Especially helpful in anxious or tense situations, but I find if I'm very triggered I need one of the other ones first, or it can make anxiety worse. Breathwork is amazing but not usually as a first exercise if you're very activated, or have been activated a long time.

Ice: Lots of ways to do this one – hands in cold water for 30 seconds, ice pack on the back of your neck, dip your entire face into a bowl of ice water (this one's the most effective). Why it works: I kinda think this is hilarious, but this activates your mammalian dive reflex. It immediately slows your heart-rate, so if you are feeling your blood pressure and heart rate rising, this one is very good. The only reason this one's at the bottom of my list is because I hate being cold.

I wish you all a very get-through-the-holidays-without-hurting-yourself. Take time alone if you need it.

[webslingingslasher]

Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please 🥺.

this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!

“I kinda want a black eye.” 

Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue. 

“Oh, really?” 

You nod, “it looks gnarly but it’d be cool to have one.” 

“Baby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You don’t want one.” 

Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peter’s hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful. 

“I think if you loved me you’d give me one.” 

Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadn’t. 

“We should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.” 

You scoff, “they weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.” 

Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost. 

“I’d never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.” 

“Do you have a friend that could-” 

“No.” 

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT. 

It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldn’t even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didn’t work. 

You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, you’ve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt. 

If your right eye could open it’d be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye. 

Your voice bubbles with pain, “petey, it hurts.” 

Your boyfriend couldn’t even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked he’s caused serious damage, panicked you’d be scared of him, panicked you’d dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him. 

“It hurts so bad,” he knows you’re calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the ‘whack!’ in his head. It wasn’t gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.

Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one. 

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.  

And suddenly Peter couldn’t see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He should’ve been quicker, he should’ve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment. 

“Peter!” A desperate cry for attention, you don’t know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine. 

You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after he’d pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand… well you don’t know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone. 

Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.  

He’s crying, your boyfriend’s crying. You’ve been punched and he’s crying. 

“I’m.. I’m sorr.. Fuck.” Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused. 

“Let me see it, please?” Peter said it like a question, like he’d ever be lucky enough to have that privilege. 

You sob, “it hurts.” 

Peter blinks, more tears. He can’t believe he’s crying over this, he also can’t believe he hit his fucking girlfriend. 

“I know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.” 

You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, it’s not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldn’t open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the world’s best poker face. 

Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage. 

It was bruising, and swollen and you couldn’t open your eye and it was all his fault. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened. A normal teenager doesn’t have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you. 

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

“You need ice.” Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. “Everything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?” Peter ignored you as he backed away, you don’t think he’s ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions. 

He shouldn’t be getting ice, he shouldn’t be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldn’t be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldn’t be icing your black eye he caused. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You weren’t upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand. 

He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table. 

Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside. 

You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didn’t hurt. 

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?” 

It’s like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room. 

“I hit you.” 

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could’ve. 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

Peter shook his head, upset you weren’t upset. 

“I hit you hard, I hurt you. I…” His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. “I fucking hit you,” he whispered it, like his own mind couldn’t wrap it around. 

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often. 

You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think that’d made things worse. 

“I’m not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.” 

“I swore i’d never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didn’t-” 

“Mean it.” You cut him off, “you didn’t mean it.” 

Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldn’t let you. 

“Ice.” Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didn’t question him, you followed instructions. 

“Remember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?” 

It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldn’t deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldn’t shake it. You were just playing around, it’s not like it was that serious. 

“I was joki-” 

“I told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.” 

Disgust. That’s what it was. He was disgusted with himself. 

You sat up straight, your lip curled up. 

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?” 

Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere. 

“You gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?” 

This wasn’t a cute or funny thing, and he won’t let you make it be one. 

He hit you.

“This isn’t funny, I hit you and you’re happy you got a black eye?” 

“Pete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didn’t mean to and you’re obviously extremely remorseful.” 

“But I-” 

You reached out for his hand, “forgive yourself. You forgive yourself.” 

It wouldn’t be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldn’t be able to fully forgive himself. 

“No more wrestling.” 

You scoff, “no more sneak attacks, how about that?” 

He shook his head, “I don’t want this happening again.” 

“If the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?” 

Peter scoffed, “absolutely not, but it wouldn’t hurt me like it does you.” 

“So you do have a super high pain tolerance.” 

He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, “yes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.” 

You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off. 

“First off, plural. Second, please stop. You’re making me feel bad, I’m really okay and I’m not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. He’s more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.

“I think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.” 

You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart. 

“I’d never!” 

Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, “toxic.” 

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Self-indulgent again, also very much a vent. For the girlies who don't wanna be moms, not even in fictional settings, who kinda need some representation. Tw: angst with (almost) no comfort and self-deprecation.

You don't want kids.

You have nothing against them, really. You even like most children, think they're cute and all, but it's just not for you. You have never liked baby dolls, nor have you ever dreamed of motherhood; never had that tug of maternal instinct that most women your age felt.

And for a long time, you felt wrong. It was yet another broken part of you that you couldn't possibly fix, and that alienated you from your peers. You still feel wrong. An annoying, loud part of you still thinks you're broken, but what can you do?

You scroll through your instagram feed, seeing post after post of old classmates either with a big, round belly or with a little bundle in the arms, all bright smiles and hands entertwined and hugs.

And you think maybe you ARE doing things wrong. Maybe you were supposed to do that too. Try to conform to what everyone apparently thinks you should do, push through and endure something you know you weren't built for – maybe it'd fill the hole inside your gut, who knows?

Then you hear a baby cry – a soldier's wife was visiting with their kid – and you lose your breath, quickly approaching a meltdown as you feel your hackles raise despite how much you think it's wrong to feel this way.

You lock yourself into the nearest room.

Truly, you don't mind children. In fact, you respect them so much you know they deserve someone who has maternal instincts, and you know that you're not that someone. Not when you fucking derail at the sound of a kid crying.

"What's wrong, love?" Your eyes focus and you finally realize that you had entered Price's office without realizing. Probably your subconscious seeking the comfort of his presence.

"... Nothing." You lie, breathing deeply and waddling your way to one of his couches. The other men observe your movements with the some focus of a scientist finding a jumpy animal in the wild. Simon gets up to give you his seat on the couch.

"Yer pale as a sheet, lass. What happened? Saw a bug on yer way here?" Soap says playfully, as he scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and anchoring you back to reality.

You huff out a sad, tired laugh and shake your head. You feel the familiar pressure build up behind your eyes and your throat constricts, but you close your eyes and keep breathing deeply, willing the tears away.

A few moments pass of you trying to keep your emotions at bay while the men silently watch you, patiently waiting for you to open up in your terms.

"Do you think I'm broken?" You finally whisper and Ghost is kneeling right beside your seat in the blink of an eye, a strong hand squeezing your knee.

"Why would we ever think that, love?" Kyle asks as he sits on the ground and swiftly takes off your shoes, massaging your feet.

You clear your throat, trying to ground yourself through the feeling of Soap, Ghost and Gaz touching you, all while Price stands to the side. The comforting woodsy scent of their colognes envelops you like a cocoon, but it doesn't stop you from thinking.

It is during moments like this that you can feel your heart breaking – remembering how much you ended up loving them and how much you don't deserve them at the same time.

Your mind flashes back to late nights at some hole-in-the-wall bar, all four of them in different stages of drunkenness, talking about distant dreams they have – a family. Kids running through the house. You'd usually smile and keep quiet, knowing you were drunk as well; at the danger of making some self-deprecating comment you were sure they wouldn't appreciate.

It's good, how things have to be nipped at the bud, you think. It's best to have your fantasies ruined than indulge in them and then hurt yourself later on.

You look at Johnny, a sorrowful smile on your face as he raised his eyebrows in concern. He'll be a great father, you're sure of it. All of them will. It's just sad that you will never be the one to fulfill their fatherhood dreams. You can't disrespect their dreams out of selfishness. You can't disrespect a child just because you were too greedy to breath the same air as those men.

Your breathing slows down, emptiness burrowing its roots deep inside the painful muscles of your heart and your gut.

If you're going to be miserable either way, you'd always choose the option in which you would never drag any of them down with you.

"Forget I said anything." You squeeze Simon's hand, still firmly clutching your thigh. "I'm just having a bad day. I'll feel better soon."

You lean forward, gently removing Kyle's hands from your feet, and put your shoes back on. You get up, still feeling like there's a scream stuck in your throat – something fierce inside of you that begs to be loved without needing to create life; something desperate, that wonders if anyone would want to stay with you without a child to tie them down.

Oh god, are you going to die alone?

You clear your throat as you get up before images of the 141 with other women begin flooding your mind. That would have to wait till nighttime. You could cry freely then.

You force a tight-lipped smile and nod your head at Price. He subtly narrows his eyes.

"Sorry I barged through your door with my nonsense, Captain. I'll be taking my leave now."

Price crosses his arms and watches you leave, steps slow and deliberate as if you were hanging by the thinnest thread. He's very aware of the eyes of his men boring through his head, egging him on to do something, say something. Isn't he the Captain, after all?

"Love." Price calls out for you as you open the door. You look at him with watery eyes and reddened lips. No matter how much you tried to hide how awful you felt, you always wore your emotions on your expressions.

"You're not broken." He murmurs and your eyebrows twitch. "No matter what hurts you. We would never think you're broken."

You bite your tongue, holding back any bitter protest of his words. Instead, you smile.

"Thanks, Cap. I do hope so." You say as you step outside and close the door before any of them could try to retort. You can't discuss anything right now. Not when your mind is yelling silently, desperately begging for acceptance of you as you are.

Most times, you just hate yourself too much and too loudly to be able to notice how they would never care about the choices you have made for yourself and your life, as long as you could stay inside their arms; as long as you could be their girl.

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[strang3lov3]

Boys Will Be Boys

You hit Roman where it hurts. Meaning you fuck his dad as he watches and cries.

Tags - dubcon, girthy age gap (80/???), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, masturbation, sexual harassment/assault (Roman’s punished for it, and I kept it short and sweet), unsolicited dick pics, roman roy gets cucked by his father, osteoarthritis, hypertension, logan roy dirty talk, logan roy takes viagra, coercion, tears and mucus as lube, almost?subby?romey??? lowkey...logan roy is kinda a fuckin' stud. uhhhhh…idk. kinda grotesque. you have to embrace it. crack fic adjacent, but this is serious business to me. you’ve been warned.

A/N - you know what you’re fucking here for. maybe it’s morbid curiosity. maybe you wanna see roman roy crying while masturbating. maybe…maybe you wanna fuck that old man. it’s ok if you do. i won’t tell on you, you fucking pervert. enjoy Logan Roy screwing your brains out <3 I tagged my romey readers, and while i implore you to be brave, don't feel pressured to read if it's not your thing. @beefrobeefcal thank you for the beta hot stuff! i love you so much.

It’s been happening for a while now.

It was just small things at first. A little comment here and there. He told you that you had nice legs the first time you wore a skirt, said something else about loving a long-legged woman. Then he asked if you shaved for him, too. What else do you shave, huh? Are you bare everywhere? 

The little tattoo on your wrist, usually hidden by your blouse. What’s that about? Got any other tattoos? Perhaps in a more private place? If I guess where it’s at, can I see it?

Oh, the way you got flustered. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little. Too easy. Roman took that as a challenge - an invitation, rather, to take it up a notch. 

He turned up the heat in his office to a balmy 75℉ the week after that. After each time you’d turn the thermostat down a few notches, Roman would use a little remote he’d point at it to turn it right back up. Must be busted, Roman told you. How about you call maintenance, huh, assistant? Maybe do your fucking job for once?

Roman watched with a crooked smirk on his lips as you slipped off your cardigan, exposing your body to him. That pretty nude camisole. Roman sidled up behind you, fingers skating over your shoulders until he reached the strap of your bra. Your blood went cold as he wriggled his fingers beneath them, then pulled up, up, and snickered as he let them snap your skin harshly. Nobody else had done that to you since junior high.

In the elevator, he stands too close. While riding up the many floors of the tall building, Roman fucking breathes on you, and follows you when you inch away from him. Your skin prickles when he touches your lower back, fingers drumming against you, walking down your waist. He’d first started by testing you with a little pinch on your ass cheek, just to watch you jump and hear that startled little squeak you’d make. He gropes your ass now, squeezing a handful of it, kneading his fingers. He loves the visible discomfort on your face, and knowing you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Harrassing you is the best part of Roman’s job. It’s why he wakes up in the morning, getting to exert that power over you. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction, of delight. 

Your phone is full of photos of his cock. Lawsuit material, if you were brave enough to go up against Roman and Waystar and all of its bells and whistles. Roman tells you his lawyers would eat you alive before you even step foot into a courtroom. 

It was late last Saturday night when Roman texted you a picture of his crotch, cock visibly hard under his slacks, outlined in sharp detail.

10:07 - Got a job for you. Wanna help out the boss?  

Every notification on your phone with Roman’s name attached makes you want to puke. You wish you could ignore him. Block him.

10:07 - No, Roman. 

You waited with bated breath for Roman’s response, the little dancing ellipsis on the screen mocking you as he formulated a text back. How’s he gonna make your day worse this time?

10:08 - Funny how quickly a job can disappear.

Fuck it. Whatever. You sent him as modest of a nude photo as you could muster - panties and bra on, face cropped out. 

10:12 - Cute. Smile this time. Lose the underwear. 

10:32 - Leaving me on read wont work. Nice try tho

10:33 - Five minutes. Don’t make me wait

You sighed in frustration as you stripped, then snapped a photo from above. Legs crossed to hide your pussy, your forearm covering your chest.

10:35 - *fire emoji*

10:35 - *As in I’ll fire you. 

10:35 - Bare tits. Bare ass. Bare pussy. Do it now

With no choice but to comply, and with an awful feeling in your gut, you took more photos. First of your tits, then your ass. Sent and sent. 

10:38 - Forgetting something?

It made you feel even more sick, but you needed him off your back. You spread your legs, pointed the front-facing camera at your cunt, and took the photo, then sent it to Roman. 

10:45 - I bet you’re so tight. Are you wet right now? 

10:45 - Yeah

Playing along. 

10:47 - I wanna be inside you

10:47 - Gonna cover you in my cum

Roman went quiet for a while then, probably ten minutes before texting you back. 

10:58 - I wanna watch you cum for me. 

10:59 - I’ll know if you fake it

He made you send him videos of you masturbating, all different camera angles, different positions. He kept you up until almost three, making yourself come over and over for him. Until he could hear you crying in the videos, your thighs trembling. It was horrible - humiliating, exhausting, so fucking dehumanizing. He sent you pictures of an old cardigan of yours covered in his come at the end of the whole thing. You thought you lost it.

It’s Monday afternoon now. You have a bad feeling when you walk to Roman’s office, seeing that the blinds are drawn over the large glass panes of his windows. You let yourself into the room at his request, and Roman’s sitting on his little gray couch, legs spread wide. He’s palming his bulge, eyes following you as you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with him, something that only serves to challenge him. He straightens, then wordlessly pats the seat next to him. 

“I have those files you asked for, Roman.” 

“Oh, that’s great. That’s really, yeah - awesome. Set ‘em down.” 

You set them on the coffee table, then anxiously drum your fingers on your lap. You steal the littlest glance at Roman sitting next to you; his thumb mindlessly stroking where the hard head of his cock presses against his slacks. 

A heavy silence falls as you process what’s inevitably coming next. Roman unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants, then unzips them. He rests his head against the couch as he pulls out his cock, then looks right at you. A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of his lips and his eyes are lidded, darkened with lust in a way that makes him look like an animal. 

Roman lets out a little giggle at the nervous way you fidget your hands. He takes one in his own, holding tightly onto your wrist when you try and pull it back. “Hang on - wait. I like your nails. Pretty, very pretty, sweetheart. I think they’d look nice wrapped around my cock, don’t you?”

You bunch your fingers in a fist, attempting to pull your wrist out of his grip. “N-no, I don’t, Rom–”

“Oh, come on. That’s why you got ‘em fuckin’ done, right?” Roman uses his other hand to pry your fingers open. “Hey, open your fucking - there we go.” He lowers your hand, pressing your palm against his warm package, and his cock looks smaller in person. Just as upsetting, though. 

Roman lets out a quiet, soft groan of pleasure, then turns frustrated when you pull away again. He snaps his fingers at you, “Hey - assistant girl. Isn’t this your job, right? To assist?”

A knock at Roman’s office door has him jumping, and you take the opportunity to get away from him entirely. You leave Roman on that couch, and he’s cursing you under his breath while quickly tucking his cock back into his trousers, watching you do your quick little half-jog out of his office. Fine, be that way. You’ll fucking get it later. 

You don’t have a plan in mind when you begin walking, you just leave. Looking over your shoulder to see if Roman’s following behind you, if he’ll grab you by the forearm and drag you into a supply closet. Do god only knows what to you. Probably fuck you with the end of some maintenance man’s mop.  

You find yourself knocking at Logan’s door, then exhale a shaky breath. You’re not…you’re not sure what you’re doing here. What you’re gonna tell him, if you’re gonna tell him anything. It’s not like he’d do anything about it, right? Logan eyes you through the window, then calls you inside with just a simple wag of his fingers. He looks annoyed, fuck. But when does he not?

Logan’s room is large, and you’re not entirely sure how to navigate, which feels silly. Sounds even sillier to say. You’re not often alone with Logan, and the proximity makes you unsure of yourself. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always felt…something for him. He’s a brute, yes, and you’ve seen the ugliest sides of him. Something about it makes his softer moments that much more profound, though. The tenderness is there, and it shows in quieter times. He winks at you now and then, offers you a smile with no malice or contempt or derision behind it. 

Logan’s got a soft spot for you, too. You’re a sweet girl. He’s always thought so, really. You do what you’re told, and you don’t ask for much. You’re not a bumbling idiot or a nagging fly buzzing in his ear. Easy on the eyes, too. Never hurts.

Logan gestures to a seat in front of his desk and hums a little. “Need a minute,” he mutters as he reads something on the screen. You look at all of his belongings on his desk - papers, folders, a mug. A framed photo of him somewhere warm and beachy, showing off his pale legs and his swollen ankles. 

Finally, he closes the window and smiles at you. His piercing, steel blue eyes pin you in place, but they’re warm too, almost. Warmer than Roman’s. When Roman makes eye contact with you, it makes you feel like prey. Like he’ll hunt you for sport. Not Logan, though. His gaze is heavy, but not hungry. 

Logan claps his fingers together over his thick belly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Uhhh…” You cross and uncross your legs as you shift in your seat, then fidget with your manicure, nervously chipping the paint off. You hate this color now. When you look up, Logan’s got his eyebrows raised at you, waiting for you to continue. You don’t want to wear his patience thin. 

“It - I was gonna talk about Roman, but it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not - I don’t need to tattle.” 

“Fuck that. What’s he doing?” Logan demands flatly, immediately, furrowing his brow. 

“No, I shouldn’t have said any–”

Logan interrupts, speaking your name softly. “Tell me.”

You tell him everything about the harassment. How long it’s been going on for, how it started small and just kept escalating and escalating. How fucking relentless Roman is. You show him the texts, the photos, becoming flustered when Logan stumbles across the photos of yourself Roman made you send to him last weekend. Logan quietly hums in approval. 

You tell him about Roman in his office, the stunt he pulled just before now. It feels good to get it off your chest, at least momentarily. The way Logan simply nods, rubbing a hand on his chin makes you feel uneasy, though. A silence hangs heavily as he takes it all in, thinking. 

“What?” The anxiety makes your question slip out rather impatiently. “Sorry, I just - what are you thinking, Mr. Roy?”

Logan scoffs, smiling just a little. “...Didn’t think the kid had it in him.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” 

That’s…that’s it? You wonder if he’s gonna tell you that you were asking for it. Or to buck up. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Logan will be just as cruel to you as his son is. Fuck, you already regret this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice softer than you expected it’d be. “Truly. I’m sorry my son put you through this. I promise I raised him better, darling. I did my best.”

“No, it’s–” You interrupt yourself to exhale steadily, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

“You know,” Logan begins, absentmindedly wiggling his fingers, “You know what it is. Boys’ll fuckin’ be boys.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you know. Men don’t grow out of boyhood so quickly, anymore, s’all. World’s turnin’ to fuckin’ shit. Unacceptable behavior, the fuckin’ kid’s pushing forty,” he spits, rolling his eyes. “Roman - he’s…well, you know what this is, don’t you? You see through his act, yes?”

You shake your head. “No,” you reply.

“Boys like him, they’ll pick on ya when they’re sweet on you,” Logan explains. “That’s all it is. Usually harmless. Usually,” he adds.

“But, Mr. Roy, I don’t–”

“I know, dear. He’s not your type, is he?”

“No,” you answer quickly, garnering a hearty chuckle from Logan. You laugh too.

“The boy always was an odd duck,” Logan adds, then pauses, thinking. “What is your type, darling, if you’ll forgive my asking?”

“Oh, gosh,” you giggle, feeling Logan’s heavy gaze on your body, your warm face. He knows. He absolutely knows. 

“Older, for one,” you admit. 

Logan smirks, and you share a smile with him. He seems to pick up on everything, knows exactly what the words left unspoken spell out. It’s always girls like you, vibrating with desire for him. No matter how white his hair becomes, nor how much rounder his belly gets, nor every new wrinkle that graces his face as the years stack up - doesn’t change the fact that Logan Roy’s still fucking got it. He reaches for one of his desk drawers, then pulls it open and reaches inside. Logan grabs an orange bottle and rattles out a tiny, blue, diamond shaped pill. His blue eyes twinkle at you as he swallows the pill, then points to the bar cart by the window. “Be a lamb, darling. Some water.”  

Quickly, you grab Logan a glass of water, watching him wash down the pill as you clench your thighs. 

“I need to hit him where it hurts,” Logan says in between sips. “Make it fuckin’ stick this time.” 

Logan shoots Roman a quick text, and you wait anxiously for his arrival. When he finally enters the office, his face falls upon seeing you at his father’s desk, looking…happier than he’d like to see you. You’re sitting up straight, chin held high, shoulders back. Logan’s scowl darkens as he gestures for Roman to sit down, right in the seat next to you. Roman’s hands shake a little as he pulls the seat back and lowers himself into it. 

“What’re we gonna do about you, son?”

“What?” Roman’s brows furrow, and his bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. “I don’t kn–”

“You a sicko?”

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat, realizing this conversation is absolutely not going to go his way. “No, I–”

Logan cuts Roman off, his tone sharp. “She tells me you’ve been harassing her, Roman. Is this true?”

“What? Dad, no. She’s f-fucking lying,” Roman stammers. Roman looks at you then, and you can see how he tries to glare, to scare you, to regain control. He’s powerless here, with you protected by his father. 

Logan reaches for your phone, which is sitting face down on his desk. He turns it on, “Gimme a hand here, darling. Pull it up again.” 

You have to bite down on your smile as you put in your passcode, feeling so empowered at the moment. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Roman’s humiliated you so many times and finally, he’s gonna take what he dishes. And then some.

Logan shakes his head a little, grumbling as he prods the screen with his fat fingers. “Fuckin’ bastard…here. Here it is. S’that your fuckin’ dick?” he sneers, spit flying from his lips. He turns the phone around, showing Roman one of the many, many photos of his own dick on your phone.

Roman freezes, his face turning pale enough to make his freckles vanish. “N–”

“Certainly small enough to be yours. Look–” Logan scrolls through more texts, “This one too, huh?”

“No,” Roman seethes, and it almost makes you giggle, the way he scrambles to lie. So fucking…pathetic. He’s everything Logan’s not. 

“Oh, see? Look at him, darling. He’s squirming.”

Logan reaches for his eyeglasses sitting on his chest, held by a cord that wraps around his neck. He squints a little as he scrolls through your phone, then clears his throat before reading aloud. “‘I bet you’re so tight’,” he reads loudly, droning in a monotone voice. “‘I need to be inside you. You’d look pretty covered in my cum.’ You think this is a fucking compliment?” Logan asks, looking at Roman through his eyebrows.

Roman’s face twists, and he scratches the back of his neck in discomfort. “Dad–”

Logan turns the phone around again, and this time a picture of Roman’s hand is on the screen. Fingers spread, covered in his own come. He scrolls again and the next photo is a picture of Roman himself, licking those fingers. 

“You are a fuckin’ sicko,” he growls.

You and Logan watch Roman shrink into his seat, how he looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin and die, if he could. Logan lets him stew in his discomfort and his shame for a beat, then pats his lap, petting his bulge a little.

Roman watches you round the desk at the same time Logan rolls his chair back, making enough space for the both of you. You sit on Logan’s meaty thighs, watching the color drain from Roman’s lips. “Ope - up a second, dear. C’mon, up, up.” Logan swats your hip gently. You stand up then, and feel Logan’s large, paddle shaped hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt. He reaches for the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, then sit back down, leaning against Logan’s thick, pillowy belly. 

“Spread your legs,” Logan whispers, helping you part your thighs. Your skirt rides up your body, putting your throbbing cunt on display for Roman. Roman swallows thickly, watching as his father reaches for your center, grunting a little as he stretches. You moan when you feel him touch you, sliding just one, thick digit through your slippery folds. “Oh,” he gasps mockingly, holding out his hand for Roman to see. “See how wet she is, Romulus? Tell him, darling, who are you this fuckin’ wet for?”

“You,” you whimper, turning to speak to Logan. Logan groans, and you feel his thick cock twitch against your backside. “I need you, Mr. Roy.”

“Oh, my dear. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

Logan glares at Roman as he pushes a single finger inside of you, and even that’s a stretch that has you whining. Logan coos in your ear, quieting you as he uses his other hand to unbutton your blouse. He wriggles his fat hand underneath your bra, palming and groping your tits, teasing your nipples with his thumb. “Fuckin’ kid wouldn’t know what to do with a pair of tits like these, now would he, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you agree, looking right at Roman. Your eyes scan down his body, noticing that - oh, god. He’s fucking hard. He’s trying to hide it, hands covering his crotch. But you see it. You see the way he’s rocking his hips, pressing down on himself to alleviate that pressure a little. 

Logan pumps his finger inside you once, then twice, then adds another. He curls the two rhythmically, noting how it makes Roman squirm. Roman’s making desperate, stifled little noises as he watches his father fingerfuck you, so shamefully, disgustingly turned on by the sight. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, resting your head against Logan’s shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in the pleasure, bucking your hips into his palm a little. 

“Ah-ah. Eyes open, darling, and look at Roman. Look, he’s fuckin’ hard for ya. See?” You lift your head a little, looking at Roman through half-lidded eyes. His face is so fucking red, eyes still wild but a little broken, too. All wet and sad. He’s sweating, you can see it glittering at his hairline, the protruding veins in his forehead twitching to match. “He’s making a mess of himself,” Logan adds, pointing to the the wet spot bleeding through Roman’s pants. “Fuckin’ disgusting, isn’t he?”

“Dad,” Roman whispers, voice breaking. “Please, d–”

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” you snap. You’re melting as Logan now rubs your clit in practiced circles. He’s got decades of experience under his belt. Guided some hundreds of women to orgasm. You’re no different, just as easy as the rest of them.

You whine as Logan pulls his hand away, pushing you forward so he can free his cock from his slacks. He sucks in his belly as he unbuttons his pants, then exhales deeply, thick belly bulging against his thin shirt. Even at the ripe age of eighty, Logan’s cock is long and thick, and everything Roman’s simply is not. You don’t get much of a look at the thick, unruly patch of white pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft before Logan’s pulling you against him, tapping his dress shoe between your ankles to make you spread your legs. “Show Roman how you take care of his old man, huh? See how he likes that.” He fits the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, then slowly pushes you down with a firm push on your hips. “Ohhh, that’s it, darling. You take it so well.”

The stretch of his cock entering you has you sucking in a sharp breath, then exhaling through that delicious pain. Your cunt pulses around Logan’s cock as you watch Roman free his own dick, desperately pawing at his own length as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them quickly, then uses the same hand to stroke himself.

“Help a man out, sweetheart. The osteoarthritis…my knees, I–”

“Of course, Mr. Roy,” you coo sweetly, lifting yourself up and down on his turgid, wrinkled member. Logan steadies you with his hands on your waist, guiding you along. Roman lets a little sob escape as he watches his father fuck his massive cock into you, squeezing his own cock so desperately. You giggle at that. 

“Quit - don’t fucking laugh–”

“Hey,” Logan barks, pointing a finger at Roman. “You don’t call the shots here, Roman, I do. I fucking run game,” he growls. Logan squeezes your breasts in both hands as he draws in and out of you, letting out wheezy exhales as his heart rate increases, but he won’t let his hypertension stop him from pleasing you. “Yeah, that’s it, honey. Look at him, fucking his hand. Tell me darling, what do you think of that?” 

“I think - I think he’s fucking pathetic,” you answer, looking right at Roman as you say it. Roman’s face breaks even further, more tears falling from his big, wet eyes. He wipes his eyes and his dripping nose, using the mess on his hand as lubricant as he fucks his fist with a depressing sort of fervor.

“Hear that, son? She thinks you’re fucking pathetic,” Logan taunts. 

“I fuck- oh, fuck,” Roman whimpers, throwing his head back as he desperately works himself. 

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ adopted,” Logan grumbles under his breath. He lifts you up then, and spins you around, then lays you across his desk so you’re looking at Roman upside-down. Logan enters you again in one swift motion, then begins fuckings you with an energy you wouldn’t expect, but that pleasantly surprises you. He’s so spry for an eighty year old. 

“You do so good for me,” Logan praises you. “My idiot son could get fucked like this too, if he weren’t such a fucking screwup. Isn’t that right, Romulus?”

“Y-yeah,” Roman whines. 

“Speak up, Roman. Let her hear you. Actually–” Logan grunts, punctuating the sentence with a brutal snap of his hips “I want you to apologize to her.”

“What?”

“He’s that fuckin’ stupid, huh?” Logan pants, the comment directed at you. “Fucking. Apologize,” he tells Roman. “Do it now.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry. Okay?”

“Again, Romulus,” Logan demands, annoyed. “Louder.”

Roman tells you he’s sorry again, and it makes you smile. His voice all high-pitched and broken. Good, it’s about fucking time he’s taken down a peg.

“Tell her again,” Logan says. “Like ya fuckin’ mean it, Roman. And you don’t stop apologizing until she comes. Are we fucking clear?”

Roman nods frantically, pumping his cock as he whines, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His words go right to your core. Logan fucks you harder, and licks his thumb before bringing it to your clit. He uses those same practiced circles from before to coax along your release, and it’s not long before you’re pulsing around his cock, moaning Roman’s father’s name as you come hard, all that pleasure washing over you as Roman whispers how fucking sorry he is. 

With a few harsh thrusts, Logan’s spilling into you next, coming with a deep, guttural grunt and wheezing breaths, a sharp pain in his chest. It’s all fucking worth it. He reaches into his pocket and tosses you his handkerchief, then excuses himself, mumbling something about needing his supplemental oxygen. 

You sit on Logan’s desk as Roman strokes himself to completion, sobbing as he gets off to the sight of your puffy, swollen cunt, ruined by his own father, and dripping with his spend. He makes a mess of himself as he comes, “Here, Rome–” you offer, tossing your used cumrag at him. 

“Get that - fuck,” Roman cries, swatting it away. He sobs as he comes down from his orgasm, unable to even look at you as you put yourself back together. 

“It’s smaller in person,” you murmur, touching Roman on the shoulder before leaving. He flinches at that, then breaks down in tears again as he shoves his softening cock back into his pants. “See ya tomorrow, boss.”

if you enjoyed, please shout at me 🩷💕 comments, rb, or go to my inbox. I turned anons back on because I know a handful of freaks will need to scream about their horniness but would prefer to do so anonymously.

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw @/fadedviolets

[estherscorner]

Do you think that Scaramouche would've made a good lover if he had fallen in love?

(cw: kinda toxic relationship, self sabotage, light angst & not proofread/edited.)

Think about it. His tongue is sharp and unforgiving. He wouldn't hesitate to jab hurtful words onto your mind, he wouldn't have a second thought to spout nonsense just for the sake of it hurting your feelings or getting on your nerves. But you were patient. You thought he could atleast be tolerable if you understood him on a deeper level.

You've told yourself multiple times- if you maybe understood him, he would be more softer and much more gentle to your feelings and thoughts. Maybe you would get why he was acting that way, why he was harsh to those around him.

But loving him had sacrifices you were pressured to make. It wasn't simple as a calm sunny day, and being with him was never a walk in the park.

Loving him meant that you need to be patient. That you need to wait until he felt safe around you, that you needed to slowly build trust just so he could feel comfortable around you.

And the worse of it all? You needed to understand what he was thinking, and if he truly wanted to be with you.

You weren't a mind reader. You could never understand him when he chooses to push you away, but then pull you back in soon after.

You never understood why he would be distant most of the time, but then be vulnerable while he's holding you in his arms. Opening up to you about his doubts and worries while the night was still young, both of you sharing warmth to contrast the cold air.

Eventually, there comes a point in time where his doubts and fears were much more terrifying than anything. How fear would plague his head everyday- taunting him that you would leave him. Mocking him for laying his heart out to you.

But despite your efforts, he wouldn't utter out a word to you.

Scaramouche isn't one to open up easily, instead he bottles his feelings up until they end up cracking and spilling- until they end up burning you in the process.

Communication was never his strongest suite. It never was and you knew that.

But for him you try your best to be patient, be strong just for him. To be someone he could cry to, someone he could trust.

If only it was easy.

"I can't understand you. One moment you're distant, then the next you're looking for me."

You told him. You wanted to be honest, to let him know how you felt. You tried to be close to him, to read him like an open book. But it was as if he wasn't allowing you.

He was quiet as you talked to him. He was looking for the right words to talk to you, to tell you what was on his mind. But he was never good with words.

"Don't be an idiot, you shouldn't worry about such trivial things. They only plague your mind for no good reason."

To him, it was to protect himself. If he pushed you away, you wouldn't be able to hurt him. And he wouldn't be able to hurt you.

But you persist.

"I just wish I could read your mind. To know why you're so..harsh. And I wish i knew if waiting for you was worth it."

Silence were shared between you as he took in your words. He always thought of himself, always thought of how he could be shielded away from pain, from betrayal.

From the mistakes he had made.

"..Do you think it was worth it? Loving me unconditionally despite everything?"

You didn't answer instantly. You hummed as you thought of his words deeply. It struck something within you, a question you never truly thought of.

Was every effort you put into the relationship worth it? Even after the times he would push you away?

You looked at him. A soft smile on your lips as you averted your gaze down.

You didn't have a proper answer. But you knew that you'd wait for him. Even if it hurts you at the end. Even if you had to sacrifice everything just so he could call you home.

"I just want you to love me, the same way I loved you."

(A/N); "lmao I couldn't post for a bit coz I was forced into cheer and had my body hurting for a few days 💔 also tell me why everytime I write for scara I have such good ideas but I HATE the execution. Doing a req next tho <3"

[revelboo]

Has anyone told you today you are one of the best blogs to be found this side of the sun? Cause you sure as hell are. Also I cry every time at TFP Starscream being called a "turkey" cause omg he looks like one 😂 (thats also a nickname I got a lot as a kid xD A varient of "goober" lol) Also glad you are starting to upload some of these to Ao3 cause tumblr can be kinda hard to find things on xD especially with longer things. Also as a Optimus lad im falling over myself for you OP stuff, I eat everyting up between Op stuff and eagerly await TFA Op again (whenever you get the vibe to at least)

He’s definitely one of my favorite iterations of Optimus! Still serious, but not as jaded and so burned out, much more willing to smile still

Broken Heart Pt 3

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Always uncomfortable picking up and carrying Sari because of how fragile she is, you're no better. Can feel your heart beating against his servos, but where Sari is bold and fearless, you're less certain and almost timid in his hands. Glancing up at his face again and again as he carries you cradled to his chassis. Do you feel pressured to go with him? Is that it? He hadn't meant to make you feel like you had no choice. "Are you sure you don't need a human medic?" Reaching a servo to touch your forehead and the little cut there, he’s uncomfortably aware of the discolored spots appearing on your skin. Bruises Sari had called them and these are his fault. Unable to protect you from his own hands.

• Shaking your head, you're not sure if it's because he saved you from that other one or if it's his deep, soothing voice, but you feel safe with him. “You saved my life,” tell him, cautiously resting a palm against his chassis when he looks down at you. “I- thank you,” you finish awkwardly, hating how inadequate those words are. He could have saved himself, not risked his own life to try and protect you, a complete stranger not even his own species. He’d been hurt for you. And nothing you do can ever be enough to repay him for that.

• You’re thanking him? Don’t you realize Blitzwing only attacked because of him? If anything, you should hate him. He should be begging you to forgive him for endangering you, but the words fail him when you rest your head against his chassis. And you’re so small in his servos, warm and needing him in a way Sari rarely does with so many other protectors who are better at talking to her. Connecting and understanding her. “You never need to thank me for keeping you safe.” Aware of Bulkhead watching the interaction, he vents softly. Because no matter what he does, there’s always going to be that guilt that you were in danger because of him and he wants so bad to make it right.

• Relaxing into those big hands, exhaustion is all that’s left after the fear and adrenaline slip from you. Just want to curl up and rest. Maybe have a good cry somewhere safe. And even though you have no idea where he’s taking you, you’re strangely sure it is a safe place. That there’s nowhere safer than in his hands. When he approaches the old building, it doesn’t look that impressive as the green one slides open the big hangar style door so they both can duck inside. And then your heart is racing again. There’s more of them, see their optics widen when they spot you before a red and white one hurries over. From somewhere further inside the building, you can smell chili cooking and your stomach growls. “What happened?” The red and white one snarls as the big, green alien heads deeper into the building and you hear him talking to someone, saying, “You came back.”

• “The Decepticons happened,” he says, attention sliding from Ratchet to you as you try to hide your face against him as if uneasy with the other’s curiosity. “It’s alright. They’re friends,” he adds, trying to reassure you as you glance up at him. Looking to him for protection and it spreads warm through his spark. Wants to be worthy of your trust, to be your protector to make up for endangering you to begin with. Shifting you against him, he introduces himself and his fellow Autobots, smiling when you softly offer your own name.

Previous

[kissedloveletters]

LOVE IS A GENTLE THING . ۫ ꣑ৎ . things they love about you.

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) warnings. fluff、angst、hurt/comfort、gn!reader、overthinking、insecurities、suggestive if you squint on wukongs、mild ooc!wukong、ao lie is a bit short、established relationship、fell-hard boys ໒ ᩧ꒱characters. macaque, aolie, nezha, wukong. 1.2k wc

MACAQUE loves your loyalty.

now, Macaque genuinely loves every quality of you. There is no words nor anything to express how eternally grateful he is for you, how you gave him a try, giving the spark in his eyes back. Without a doubt his feelings run deep.

to be precise, if he has to be specific about one; LOYALTY is the first things on his mind.

Because of his rough history and past, Macaque has developed many barriers mentally. He faced a betrayal from a certain someone that still left a scar on him, It would be an understatement to say he does have trust issues and even to say he doesn’t see himself in a relationship, having something so… vulnerable, with someone.

That was before he met you, at least. he had years to build those walls up only for you to bypass them, and he allows it. he allows it.

He enjoyed it even, he felt so free and feather-light, the overthinking and doubtful thoughts all vanished. Because he trusts you. The unwavering loyalty you are giving him brings him a tingly feeling in his stomach, adoration.

The disloyalty and betrayals from the past left his heart in a racing conflict. Your determination of your character to assure him that you’ll never leave or choose anyone over him, and it never faltering brings him to believe he thinks he’s dreaming. That you’re dreamy.

at first, it took awhile to have him open to you, if he catches himself doing it, he honestly feels so heavy in his chest he would probably do anything to just get away from you before he thinks he’ll get more hurt than he already is. he has a feeling to just, cry. he’s just so tired.

It’s not often he would usually admit this, or ever, but there’s a glint in his eyes (if you look close enough) and blush clustered on his cheeks when you voice being faithful with him; even in small moments.

you being communicative is a plus too, he really needs communication, even if he’s shit at it himself. The relationship would really cease if you both are bad at communicating so.

by thus, you’re a really significant person in his life. he wouldn’t dare have anyone or anything take you away from him, and you reciprocated this too.

AO LIE loves your patience and energy

Ao lie is overly clumsy with things, so if your PATIENT with him, he’s relieved honestly.

not canon but i imagine him having somewhat of a harsh and bitter past so he gets pressured a lot. so, you being patient with him gets a weight lift off his chest basically.

also you being ENERGETIC kinda gives him a boost and like encouragement, you know? and then gets all motivated with you which you think is cute

also you both are literally that one meme “HE SAID NO PICKLES!” and he’s all like melting himself on the chair beside you looking down in humiliation

he gets flustered easily when around you, because he gets scared that he’s gonna embarrass himself in front of you ( Despite him already doing that in multiple occasions. ) and you really don’t care if he falls over in front of you or maybe you laugh at him idk

NEZHA loves your kindness

either you’re kind to him or others, even in small or major situations; he admires it, he admires you. something simple as that can make him have that fuzzy feeling. the way you gently tend his wounds while sweetly saying praises for his work and efforts or softly scolding him for being more careless of his safety, putting his duty above his safety.

it’s honestly the simple thing such as KINDNESS can bring nezha to be lovesick. actions or words he’s astonished how genuinely kind someone can be.

whether you can fight for yourself or not, he has a strong vow to protect you. he knows how cruel the world and how twisted people can really be, he has a fear that they’ll target you somehow.

he developed a protective nature, he’s not possessive per say, he just wants you protected. not extremely protective either, he knows limits and when to step in.

though if you can fight for yourself, surely, he lets his guard down only a little. he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t think you can defend yourself or you’re weak.

is a little unsettled if you’re friends with wukong, it’s obvious he isn’t sure what to feel about the guy. wukong betrayed nezha before, and is cautious if he’ll do the same to you. if you’d reassure him; he’ll feel better and mentally slaps himself.

(wukong defiantly noticed and mocks nezha about this)

but he truly treasures you and your kind soul, seeing how strong-hearted you are made him impossibly more in-love with you. the little gestures you do on autopilot that others wouldn’t consider doing, or the kind words you speak thats soft-spoken and feel like they run deeper than anything.

WUKONG loves your matching energy and empathy

theres obviously a majority of people who get annoyed and agitated at wukong, he’s slightly off-put when you MATCH HIS ENERGY or surprised even, but that goes a second it comes.

before you two were even together, he may not act or look like it but he still has his guard high, despite for his attitude he keeps a lot of people at arm length. wukong seeing you match his energy and even having that same mischief in your eyes too get you both along well.

most weren’t even surprised at the outcome with your relationship, at-most it’s certainly expected to happen. maybe some even thought you were together before. even so, you two were like two peas in a pod, a match made in heaven.

you two were certainly a power couple, much to some people’s dismay and unimpressed-ness. you both were practically inseparable.

I expect you to be strong in some way, if you are, wukong lives for seeing you fight; it makes him feel a type of way, you can decipher what that would mean.

he feels blessed honestly, there’s a small chance of you not catching up with him in a relationship or getting tired or bored of him, which he’s secretly insecure of and wouldn’t admit it, soberly.

if your attentive, you catch on sooner or later about this and he hates it. wukong usually runs away from his problems than face them and if he crumbles too much in front of you, he feels like he’ll make a rash decision and he’ll make you leave like others have also.

there’s only so little people that can make out wukong and that side of him, you can may or may not EMPATHIZE with him. assuring him, that you will not leave him and no matter how tempting to leave or difficult he gets, that promise will always linger within you both.

wukong makes many mistakes, but he sure as hell wouldn’t make one that would loose you, maybe you’ve seen too much of him, but you have empathy. empathy for wukong is something he never really felt before, being understood despite his history and action, how easily you decipher because you emphasize with him. it warms him like no other fire that would keep him warm, how how he cherishes the feeling. how his heavy heart always having conflicts finally feel calm, calm even for a moment of being understood.

[chiyuuchu]

Who the hell would buy a Labubu? <3 (3rd November 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou overhears his crush whining over wanting a Labubu and goes out of his way for it

The cafeteria was shrouding with the latest trend: Labubu figures. Everywhere you looked, someone seemed to be talking about them, pulling up pictures on their phones, or showing off new additions to their collections. The Bakusquad was no exception.

“Dude, have you seen these things?” Kaminari said, scrolling through his phone and shoving it in Bakugou’s direction. “They’re called Labubu. Apparently, they’re, like, the hottest thing right now.”

Bakugou gave the screen a disgusted look, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature with big, weird eyes and a goofy grin. “What the hell is that? And who’d pay that much for something so ugly?”

Kirishima chuckled, trying to explain. “I dunno, man, it’s kinda cute in a strange way. People are obsessed with them. They’re even blind boxes, so you don’t know which one you’re gonna get until you open it.”

Bakugou scoffed. “So you’re telling me people are throwing cash away on some creepy-looking gremlin they don’t even get to choose? That’s dumb.”

Just as he was shaking his head, he heard a familiar laugh nearby. He glanced over to see Y/N with a few of the other girls, chatting excitedly, and his ears perked up when he caught her mention the word “Labubu.”

“I’ve wanted one for ages,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. “Especially the pink one, Dada. It’s so cute! I’ve tried to find it, but it’s sold out everywhere.”

Mina nodded enthusiastically. “They’re hard to get your hands on right now. But I bet you’ll find one soon, Y/N! They’re so you.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched her. He didn’t get the appeal of those weird little figures, but seeing Y/N light up while talking about it stirred something he couldn’t quite ignore.

Turning back to his friends, he scowled even harder. “It’s still ugly,” he muttered, though now his mind was racing with the thought of Y/N smiling with one of those creepy toys in her hands.

He didn’t get the appeal, but… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try finding one for her anyway.

Bakugou pushed through the door of the specialty store, the bell jingling above him. He took a quick glance around, noting the colorful shelves lined with various Labubu figures. Each one looked weirder than the last, and he scowled at the thought of spending money on such ridiculous toys.

“Can I help you?” the cashier asked, her friendly tone grating on his nerves.

“Yeah, I need one of those Labubu things,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Which one?” she replied, eyeing him curiously.

“Uh, the pink one. The Dada,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Oh! That one’s really popular,” she said, her eyes brightening. “But it’s a blind box, so you won’t know if you get it until you open it.”

Bakugou frowned, the frustration boiling in his chest. “What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know if I get the pink one?”

“It’s random,” she explained, shrugging. “You can buy one box, but there’s no guarantee.”

He huffed, feeling the pressure of time ticking away. Y/N had been talking about wanting a Labubu for weeks, and if he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he got the right one. “Fine, give me six.”

The cashier blinked in surprise. “You want a bulk pack?”

“Just give me the damn boxes!” he snapped, not wanting to waste time debating. The thought of Y/N’s smile pushed him to act, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

After paying for the bulk pack, he exited the store, the weight of the bag heavy in his hands. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and determination as he headed back to the dorm.

Once he got inside, Bakugou tossed the bag onto his bed and unzipped it, revealing the six colorful Labubu boxes inside. He could feel a sense of anticipation building up in him. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, grabbing the first box.

With each box he opened, his heart raced. The first one revealed a bright green Labubu with silly eyes. “Nope,” he said, tossing it aside.

He tore through the second box, revealing a blue one. “Not it either,” he grumbled, throwing it next to the first.

The third box contained a purple Labubu, which only added to his growing annoyance. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, grabbing the fourth box.

As he opened the fourth, a yellow Labubu stared back at him, and he groaned loudly. “Why is this so hard?”

He moved to the fifth box, desperate for a win. But it only brought another bizarre figure. “Are you kidding me?!” he shouted, tossing it aside in frustration.

Finally, he reached the last box, his heart pounding with hope. He ripped it open, pulling the figure out slowly.

As the pink Labubu came into view, his breath hitched. “Yes! Finally!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. It was the Dada Labubu, the one Y/N had wanted the most.

Bakugou quickly shoved the figure back into its box, a grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when he surprised her with it.

“Now I just have to figure out how to give this to her without making it weird,” he murmured, already plotting the perfect moment to reveal his secret.

Class 1-A was buzzing with excitement and chatter during lunch, but Bakugou barely noticed. All he could focus on was the small, carefully wrapped box sitting in his bag, and his heart was beating a little faster than he wanted to admit.

He glanced across the classroom at Y/N, who was laughing with Mina, and felt a surge of warmth he tried hard to ignore. For weeks, she’d been talking nonstop about how she couldn’t find a Labubu figure anywhere. She’d checked every store, every website, but they were sold out, leaving her heartbroken and, to his quiet dismay, a bit gloomy.

Bakugou had found himself listening to her without meaning to, her excitement and disappointment lingering in his mind longer than he’d expected. After a while, he couldn’t shake it; he’d gotten up, practically stormed through every store he could think of, and, by some miracle, found the last Labubu in stock. It was ridiculous how much effort he’d gone through—but he’d done it. For her.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, box in hand. The class quieted as they noticed him crossing the room, eyes widening in surprise when he stopped in front of Y/N’s desk.

“Bakugou?” she asked, looking up at him with a puzzled smile.

He held out the box, clearing his throat as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Here. Since you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Her eyes widened, realization dawning as she carefully took the box from his hands, hands slightly trembling. “Wait… no way…”

“Yeah, it’s that damn Labubu you kept going on about,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “Figured you’d be happier if you had it.”

Her expression shifted from disbelief to awe as she looked at him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart stutter. She opened the box slowly, as if savoring the moment, and when she saw the figure, her eyes filled with happiness and something else—a warmth that made his face feel unexpectedly hot.

“Bakugou… thank you,” she whispered, her voice gentle, like he was seeing a side of her she usually kept hidden. She bit her lip, staring at the Labubu and then back at him. “I can’t believe you actually found it. I’ve wanted this for so long, and you… you really did this for me?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he grumbled, looking away, his cheeks dusted pink. “It was just… annoying to hear you complain about it every day.”

But she only laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

The class, watching the exchange, started to murmur, sharing knowing glances and grins. Kaminari leaned over to Kirishima, whispering, “Dude, Bakugou’s totally got it bad.”

“Shut up, idiots!” Bakugou barked, his voice snapping the class back into silence, but the embarrassment only made him redder.

Y/N giggled, and without thinking, she stepped closer and hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This means so much to me.”

He froze, feeling the warmth of her arms around him, and for a split second, all his defenses melted away. His hand hovered before he slowly placed a palm on her head, just for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, only for her to hear.

When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes sparkled with joy. “Guess I owe you one now, huh?”

“Tch, whatever,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he watched her. “Just… don’t lose it, alright?”

She nodded, clutching the figure to her chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Open it,” he said, crossing his arms, trying to look indifferent. “If you’re lucky, it’ll be the one you wanted, right?”

She grinned, carefully unwrapping the box with everyone watching, the anticipation building in the air. The class waited with bated breath as she peeled back the top, lifting out the mystery figure. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she slowly unwrapped it, revealing…

A flash of pink fur.

She gasped, holding up the tiny pink Labubu figure—Dada. It was the exact one she’d been hoping for, the one she’d mentioned every time the topic came up.

The girls beside her all gasped.

“No way! It’s Dada! The pink one!” she squealed, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and happiness. “Bakugou, this is the one I wanted most!”

He shrugged, fighting a smirk. “Guess you got lucky, then.”

She stared at the figure, clearly overwhelmed, then met his eyes with a soft smile that made his heart skip. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This is perfect.”

The class burst into soft laughter and teasing whispers, and Kirishima nudged him with a grin. “Aw, man, you really went all out!”

Bakugou scowled, looking away to hide the warmth creeping up his face. “I just wanted some peace and quiet, alright?”

But Y/N only laughed, cradling her Dada Labubu, and gave him a look that told him she saw right through him. And, just this once, Bakugou didn’t mind.

After the excitement of lunch had settled and the class had dispersed, Bakugou found himself sitting alone in his room, staring at the collection of Labubu boxes he still had. He’d returned home with the six he’d bought, but after seeing Y/N’s joy, he hadn’t had the heart to keep the rest.

He picked up the boxes one by one, contemplating what to do with them. They were all the same—a mix of colors and characters he couldn’t remember the names of, each one just as bizarre as the last. He scowled, trying to shake off the thought that maybe he could just toss them or give them to someone else.

With a sigh, he stood and marched over to Y/N’s room, rapping his knuckles against her door. “Hey! You in there?”

A muffled voice called back, “Yeah, just a second!” The sound of shuffling filled the air before the door swung open to reveal Y/N, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Uh… I was thinking.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know what to do with these,” he said, gesturing to the boxes. “So, here.”

He shoved them into her arms, watching as her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what? Bakugou, are you serious?” She looked down at the colorful boxes, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, yeah. Just take them. I don’t want them.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool even though he felt a rush of warmth at seeing her so happy.

Y/N laughed in disbelief as she glanced at the boxes, her heart racing with excitement. “But… these are all so expensive! Are you sure you don’t want them?”

“Does it look like I want them?” Bakugou snapped, but he didn’t mean to sound harsh. “I already got you the pink one. Just take them, dammit!”

She was still processing, her mind racing with thoughts. “I can’t believe you’re giving me all of these. Bakugou, this is so generous of you!”

He scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Don’t go making it weird. I just didn’t want to deal with them.”

But as she looked up at him, her smile genuine and bright, he felt something shift in his chest. “Wait, you’re keeping the yellow one, right?”

Bakugou blinked, the question catching him off guard. “What? No, I just—”

“Wait, you like Labubu?” she asked, tilting her head with a teasing grin.

“W-What? No!” He turned red, the rush of embarrassment hitting him like a tidal wave. “I mean, it’s just… it’s growing on me, okay?”

She laughed, clearly enjoying his flustered state. “Yeah, right! Just admit it! You like them.”

“Shut up!” he barked, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward against his will.

“You do! I knew it!” she teased, playfully nudging him.

Bakugou huffed, turning his head away, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, those weird little figures weren’t so bad after all. Not when they made her smile like that.

The next day, the sun shone brightly over U.A. as Bakugou made his way to class, still riding the high of Y/N's delighted reaction to her pink Labubu. But as he entered the classroom, the teasing atmosphere hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Look who’s proud of his new friend!” Kaminari called out, pointing at Bakugou’s backpack, where the yellow Labubu dangled from a clip. “Nice one, Bakugou! Is that your pet now?”

Bakugou glared at him, scowling as he rolled his eyes. “Shut the hell up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid thing.”

“Stupid?!” Kirishima laughed, leaning over to get a better look. “You’re the one who bought six of them! And now you’ve got one clipped to your bag? Sounds like you’re a fan!”

“Just because I bought one doesn’t mean I’m a fan!” Bakugou snapped, the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m just making sure it doesn’t get lost, dumbass.”

Just then, Y/N walked in, her own bag swinging at her side, the pink Labubu proudly displayed as it dangled from the strap. The moment her classmates spotted her, the teasing escalated.

“Hey, Y/N! Looks like you and Bakugou have matching accessories!” Mina chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Isn’t that adorable?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she smiled, glancing over at Bakugou, who was scowling like he was about to explode. “I guess so! I mean, he found it for me after all,” she said, her tone light and playful.

Bakugou tried to suppress the grin that threatened to break through as Y/N beamed at him, but his friends weren’t having it.

“Aww, Bakugou! You two are, like, Labubu buddies now!” Kaminari teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “Next thing we know, you’ll be collecting them together!”

“Shut up!” Bakugou growled, though the edge of his voice was dulled by a hint of embarrassment. “It’s just a coincidence!”

“Yeah, right,” Kirishima chuckled. “I can see it now: ‘Bakugou and Y/N, the ultimate Labubu collectors!’”

“Ugh! Just drop it already!” Bakugou shouted, crossing his arms defensively. He tried to focus on the board, but he could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, a mix of amusement and something softer that made his heart race.

As the laughter and teasing continued, Y/N stepped closer to Bakugou, a playful glint in her eye. “You know, I think you look cute with your little Labubu,” she said, her voice teasing yet sincere. “And it really suits you.”

Bakugou’s cheeks burned, and he turned away quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Tch! It’s not cute! It’s just… it’s just practical!”

But Y/N’s laughter echoed in his ears, and as he caught her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in his chest. Maybe having the yellow Labubu wasn’t so bad after all.

[mockerycrow]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a one shot with gn!reader who gets hurt in a mission trying to save Ghost and as he feels bad for it, so he gets reader a small plushie (kinda like those for the key chain) and when reader wakes up doesn't know it was ghost how gave it to them

💙

KEYCHAIN (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — 1.3k words

authors note; it’s your local author criticizing their writing non stop again!!!!!! i feel like i could’ve written this better idk i’m sorry, anon! i wrote this whilst focusing on other projects </3

[WARNINGS; violence, descriptions of stabbing and choking, gore, hospital settings, fluff at the end.]

Ghost did not expect you to do what you did. Someone somehow managed to get the jump on Ghost from behind, wrapping their arms around the man’s neck with a knife in their hand. It was right in the middle of Ghost claiming he cleared a building; in his defense, he had cleared the entire building of every hostile for the exception of one. You heard him grunt and choke before going radio silent, you decided that you were on your way to his location the second something sounded wrong.

Ghost gasps for air and reaches for a knife of his own, trying to stomp his foot down on the man’s foot, but the man grunts and laughs when Ghost discovers he’s wearing steel-toed shoes. Ghost struggles against the man, his head beginning to swim—when is the last time he’s been overpowered like this?—and Ghost manages to grab one of his knives, taking it out of the sheath—

Ghost’s vision goes white for a moment when he feels the man’s blade sink into his abdomen, the man shushing him in his ear. “It’ll be over soon, big boy.” The man hisses, carelessly ripping the knife out of Ghost’s gut, making his legs buckle. Ghost must have blacked out for a moment because the next time his vision and hearing work, he’s on the ground in immense pain, witnessing a figure fighting off the strong, armored man. Ghost hears someone cry out—is that you??—but his vision won’t focus just yet.

His ears are ringing as he puts a forearm against the ground, a groan leaving Ghost as his other hand goes to his gut, and he winces as he applies pressure to his stab wound, hot thick blood trickling between his fingers and onto the ground. Ghost’s throat aches terribly, so he clears it as his vision finally focuses and it’s you fighting off a man that’s bigger than him. His eyes widen as he shouts your name, his voice hoarse and broken, laced with panic.

There’s blood staining your uniform as Ghost lets go of his stab wound, and he groans loudly as he leans down and grabs his handgun out of his ankle holster. Ghost inhales through his teeth and he shakily aims his handgun, and holds his breath to steady his aim, and he pulls the trigger.

The bullet ripples through the air and rips through the man’s temple, causing him to stumble for a second before crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll. Unfortunately, you follow suit, a loud pained gasp leaving you as you land on your side. Ghost holsters his handgun and he calls your name again, fighting through the pain to quickly crawl over to you, blood trailing him. “Oi, oi—“ Ghost hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to roll onto your back.

There’s blood caking your uniform so horribly he doesn’t know where your wounds begin. It’s smeared against your neck and face, your eyelids fluttering from the pain. Your lips part and shut multiple times as your mind tries to comprehend what just happened. Ghost calls your name, a loud noise of pain leaving him, one hand pressing against his own wound whilst the other grabs your jaw to keep your head still.

Ghost hears Price shout your name through comms in an angry and panicked tone. “Ghost?? Fuckin’ hell, someone come in!” Ghost pants before he begins to tear the velcro straps off of your vest as he needs to know where you got hurt. He moves his hand off of his own stab wound—he is a bit lightheaded—and he presses down on his radio. “Ghost to Price, we’re both injured. One SW for me, I’m not sure how many for them.” Ghost croaks into the radio, trying to multitask.

“Bloody—where are you two?” Price demands through the radio, sounding a bit breathless. Ghost inhales sharply as he leans over, his body bending the wrong way as he grabs the front of your vent and he grunts loudly as he drags it off of you with one hand. He’s lost a bit of strength with the blood he’s lost. You gasp and grab for Ghost’s wrist as he begins to press down on one of your multiple stab wounds near your vital organs. “Building two, third floor.” Ghost responds with a strained voice. He notices your head rolling back, and you barely hear Ghost yelling.

Don’t let this be the end.

You ended up passing out from pain and blood loss, despite Ghost’s best efforts of keeping you awake. You slowly awakened in a plush setting, slight pain humming through your veins, your throat dry and aching. You twitch, your muscles heavy from not being used for a bit. You hear a monitor or two, which gives you an indication you’re in the hospital. Your eyelids fluttered open and luckily, the overhead light in your hospital room was not on. The curtains were drawn open, and the light streamed into the room.

You glanced around, seeing Soap with his journal in his hand, sketching something. It gives you a warm feeling in your gut and you glance over to your other side, seeing Gaz sitting there, holding.. your keys with a little fuzzy thing?

“What’s that?” You croak, causing both Gaz and Soap’s heads to snap to look at you. “Aye, look who’s awake!” Soap exclaims, grinning. He closes his journal and puts it on the ground next to his chair before he grabs a foam cup. Soap brings it to your lips, and you realize it’s water so you greedily gulp it down, the water soothing your throat. Gaz lets out a breath before he scoots closer, the crease in his eyebrows finally relaxing. “It’s nice to see you awake.” Gaz murmurs with a soft smile of his own.

Soap pulls away the cup and sets it back down. “How long was I out?” You question. “What even happened? It’s in sections for me..”

Soap and Gaz share a look before Gaz fiddles with the fuzzy thing in his fingers, your keys clinking around. “You saved Ghost. He was being overpowered and you found him, but uh..” Gaz winces a bit, causing your eyebrows to furrow as bits and pieces begin to flood back to memory. “—But you got injured yourself. Luckily lil’ ol’ LT got off with one stab wound. You? Ya got off with six.”

You blink for a moment. “Oh.” You utter, taking a moment to process that. “You had to have surgery which is why your throat aches so much, the tube.” Gaz explains, putting your keys and the fuzzy thing in your lap. “They said everything should heal normally, but you'll be out of commission for a while.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, your hand reaching out and grabbing your keys. “And Ghost?” You ask, your tone tight, expecting the worst. “He’s alright,” Soap assures, causing you to look at him now with a look of relief. “He just left a bit ago to get some rest, since he can’t stay and lay hunched over.” Gaz chuckles and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face. You finally look down at the fuzzy thing attached to your keys; it’s a little keychain plushie of a black and white cat. You let out a soft “aww” before looking at Gaz, and then Soap. “Who gave me this?” You ask.

Soap and Gaz share a knowing look—a glance you can’t quite yet decipher—before they shrug and mutter stuff like “i don’t know..” and “no idea” when in fact they watched Ghost, in a wheelchair, wheel himself into the room and grunt for your keys. Soap had wordlessly handed them to the man, and they watched him put on the kitty keychain and made them promise to not tell them he gave it to you.

[shy-writer-999]

Something makes either Ace or Sabo (whoever you think fits this more) go, just, completely feral. Maybe some kinda aphrodisiac or they’re just really fucking horny, either way, they’re all over the reader- grinding their leg up against their cunt to make them whine, dry humping, frantically talking about how bad they need to fuck the reader, whatever works. I dunno, I’m just suddenly very horny for these two, lmao.

you said you’re suddenly very horny for these two? that’s crazy bcuz same… *eye twitch* anyhow, here’s what I came up with :3 i read it through a couple times but i'm certain there's many typos and overused words... please turn a blind eye... (*≧ω≦*)

---

His knee grinded on your cunt through your pants. It was harsh. Every time he jerked his knee up it hurt a bit, but the friction also felt good. His breaths were shallow and quick already, and his bulge was huge and visible though his boxer briefs.

“Ace, what’s gotten into you?”

He shifted himself and started rutting his erection into your thigh, humping you like a dog in heat. Each thrust of his hips elicited a groan from him—he was going fucking crazy. “Need you so bad, baby. Wanna put my cock in you.”

He paused to suck on your neck forcefully, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys down to your exposed shoulder. He bit it, the speed of his hips increasing. “I’m gonna stuff you full, sweetheart, gonna fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.”

“Ace,” you whined his name and he brought a hand down to grip your clothed core through your pants.

He must have taken something. Maybe it was an aphrodisiac? Did he go sniffing around the cabinets again when he shouldn’t? Or was he just really horny? You didn’t know what the answer was, but you knew he needed you bad right now.

His eyes were glossy and flooded with lust already. Every word he said burned you like the fire he was made of. “Can’t wait to stretch you out then make you cum on my cock, angel. Want you to take all of me.”

His hand squeezed your core again and you squirmed at the pressure. He started to rub his fingers back and forth on the fabric, stoking the heat that was building between your lips.

Ace resumed grinding his hard cock back and forth on your thigh, dry humping you in a frenzy. “Baby, will you milk my cock like you always do? Will you make those pretty sounds for me?” Moaning and grunting carelessly now, fully lost in pleasure, Ace was barely cognizant of how desperate and needy he was being.

You started to whine. The caresses of his rough fingers through your pants felt great. You wished he’d stop rutting and saying dirty things to you and get to fucking you instead. “Ace, I want it.”

“You want it? Want me to creampie you, gorgeous? Want me to shove my cock inside? Fuck you senseless?”

“Ace, quit teasing and fuck me already.”

He snuck his hand into the front of your pants and played with you for a second, running his middle finger back and forth on your lips and then pushing it in and out of you. You were so wet for him already and it only drove him crazier. You wondered how much he could grind his cock into your thigh before he came all over himself.

His voice was gravelly and husky. “So needy for me baby, you want it so bad. Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Ace, please. I want it.”

He worked your pants and panties off of you then freed his cock and slowly pressed it into your folds with a shudder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me.”

Ace slammed his hips back and forth, rolling and fucking into you. He knew you so well, knew where your g-spot was and how to hit it just right.

Out of breath, he was heaving his words out with his face all scrunched up. Those freckles were to die for—absolutely charming no matter what he was doing. But during sex they looked extra good. The same goes for his long lashes, his dark hair, his muscles… he was perfect.

“Pussy feels so—so good on my cock, baby, I want it, want you to cum for me, love, wanna feel it.”

After a few more blissful thrusts you went over the edge and spasmed around him just how he wanted. He got off on that feeling so much, that throbbing feeling of you under him, convulsing from pleasure because of him.

When he came inside of you it was explosive. The noises and whimpers he made were delicious—you could savor them forever, ruminate on how badly he needed you. When he collapsed on top of you and gave you more kisses, his smile was sweet and a little bit giddy. “You’re the best, baby. Love you so much.”  

You asked later what on earth had gotten into him and his response was at the same time comical and endearing. “Ate a bunch of oysters then got a look at your ass on deck. Couldn’t help myself, sweetheart.”

[tenjikufag]

gojo caught cheating on reader with getou?? need angsttt

Adieu.

Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

-angst, hurt no comfort, cheating, love bombing, reader actually fighting back I refuse to let you be a doormat!!, vomit mentions,

-thank you for the request, I typically don’t write cheating fics as they aren’t my thing or personal preference but I thought I’d give it a try. Not proofread, and kinda sporadic.

You knew what was happening. You knew all along, as soon as it started, down to the day it progressed past a best friend dynamic.

It was a hard truth, knowing you were being cheated on. Satoru was your first love, and he claimed you were his but you’d assume that was another lie that fell from his lips- Suguru was his first love and he hadn’t gotten over it.

Suguru didn’t love him back, he still didn’t, he didn’t really even like his best friend at this point in time. That much you were sure of. Suguru was treating your partner as a toy, an experiment without any ties on his end but Satoru was hopelessly following him whilst still dragging you along.

Graduation was soon.

Once you were out of the dorms, you were sure you’d be able to leave him but it was almost as if he knew what you were trying to do.

Small things of yours would go missing, only to find them in Satorus dorm when he managed to drag you into it..

The gifts, dates, physical intimacy were being pushed onto you the closer you got to having to move out and be away from each other..

You never gave into having sex with him anymore, feeling disgusted at the aspect of not consenting to “share” him.. shivers ran down your spine while his hands clung to your waist..

“We should go on a date later! You’ve been so busy lately.. no time for your boyfriend!”

He was playful in his teasing, the proposition forcing a lump in your throat and the pressure spiking your anger. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break down over this. You’d done it enough in your room, taken it out on the training grounds and very clearly spent yourself dry against field curses.

“I’m busy studying, I’ll take you out for a nice date after exams.”

The white haired male buzzed in excitement, squeezing you tightly before intertwining his hand with yours. You held it limply, now used to pulling yourself away instead of leading him with a tight hand and a smile.

Approaching the school building, you pulled your hand away- ignoring the way he pouted and reached for your hand again. You shoved your hands into your pockets, lightly glaring at him and walking ahead.. Satoru frowned deeply.

He was troubled. You were ignoring him recently, gapping a distance between you, he no longer felt the undivided love from you that he’d become accustomed to. No kisses, no hugs from you that he didn’t initiate, and no form of intimacy.

It broke his heart, even if he knew that he was getting his karma for what he had been doing behind your back. You didn’t know, right? You would tell him if you did.. right?

Furrowing his brows, he followed closely behind you and found himself standing awkwardly beside you while you conversed with your friends. They weren’t friends of his, and they didn’t seem to like him all that much either by the way a pair of them sneered at his intrusion.

Before he could ask you to walk him to class, you turned to him with an almost annoyed face.

“Why don’t you go find Shoko? Maybe Getou if he isn’t late.. I’m busy here.”

His heart thumped anxiously, why didn’t you rope him into the conversation like you always did? Why were you letting your friends look at him with such disdain? Why wouldn’t you accompany him to class.. you always did. This is the third time this week you’d dismissed him.

“No, Shoko came early and is studying in the cafeteria and Suguru is always late..”

It hurt his heart, your reply only being a laboured sigh through your nose.

“Yeah whatever Gojo, just go ahead of me and I’ll catch up.”

Gojo? What the hell! It’d been years since you called him anything but his first name- there was definitely something wrong.

“Satoru. I’ll wait for you.”

He corrected, and stood his ground. Stepping closer to you, your friends snickered at him.. he wasn’t used to being treated like this. Being laughed at, being judged, and being anything but the focus of all your attention..

“Ugh! I’m telling you I’ll catch up with you later, can you just go?!”

You pushed him away from you, glaring and turning back to your friends who led you away from him.

‘Come on! Just leave him already, it’s sad seeing him act like that!’

You weren’t sure if he’d heard it, but he did. An ache in his stomach arose and made him almost puke in his own hands. You didn’t spare him a second glance like your friends did, who only watched in amusement when he ran into the school- rushing to the bathroom.

He heaved, gagged, and gasped for air as he emptied out the small meal he had into the toilet. Sweat beaded on his face, legs trembling under him..

Even if you didn’t know, were you already planning to break up with him? Dating post high school is difficult but he was sure the two of you would make it.

Both of you had spent late nights speaking of your future together, already having long term plans of moving in together.. he already had a place picked out to show to you after graduation!

Pushing himself against the stall door, he tried to steady himself.. he would ask you during the first break.. even if you shared classes, you never sat beside each other..

—

He felt jealous, watching you enter the classroom smiling and laughing with one of your male friends.. the other man clutching your arm to keep himself from falling over laughing..

Satoru waved at you, giving a signature smile to you.. you glanced at him briefly, the look of joy and laughter leaving your face as soon as your gaze met his.

Suguru sat beside him, resting his head on his wrist against the desk.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Suguru chuckled, amused at the look of horror his ‘friend’ gave him.

“Do you think he knows?”

“Probably, but I also wouldn’t blame him for leavin’ ya after graduation regardless.”

“What? What does that mean?”

He choked out, eyes shaking and eyebrows twitching

“He’s too good for you, Satoru. We all know that much.”

We? Who is we? Did everyone really think this? Did everyone know of his affair?!

He couldn’t worry about that, he needed to worry about your relationship.

Even if he was a cheater.. he still loves you. Sleeping with Suguru would never change that- he couldn’t rectify anything at this point and often times he wondered why he even started this all.

When he was with Suguru, he thought of you. Thought of you ontop of him, thought about all of Sugurus moans as yours.

Why did he do it?

He couldn’t even remember anymore..

But it was all catching up.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been.. kind of ignoring me recently..”

Satoru sheepishly inquired, approaching you outside during break.

“Hm? Yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because-“

“I’m fine Satoru. Drop it okay?”

He bit his lip, not even interested in the sweet bun you’d brought for him.

“It’s just.. I feel like you’re-“

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Eat the damn bun, we only have 5 minutes left.”

The packaged bun was shoved into his chest, leaving him to catch it while you walked away. Again.

He didn’t catch up to you until the end of the day, grabbing your hand without a thought. Tears welled in his eyes when you flinched away and limply held his hand..

“Y/n?”

You hummed, not sparing him even a second of a glance.

“Are.. are we okay? I heard what your friend said-“

“No. We aren’t. Let go of my hand since you wanna talk about it.”

He didn’t even have to let go before you ripped your hand from him.

“I know about you and Suguru.”

His heart dropped, his body tensing and saliva pooling in his mouth from nausea.

“What?”

Walking into the dorms building, he kept shooting questions at you, following you into your own dorm.

“What do you mean you know?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Slamming your bag down, you whipped around to glare at him. Your eyes held a rage he’d never seen in you before, not even thinking you’d be capable of sending him such an emotion.

“Why didn’t I tell you?! Why did you do it?!”

“I-“

“You should’ve broken up with me to go fuck around! If you didn’t love me anymore I would’ve much preferred hearing that than having to learn you’re fucking cheating on me!”

“But I do love you-“

Shoving him away, your frantic hands started to gather all the gifts he had given you and started to throw them at him.

“Love?! You don’t love me! No one who loves someone does this!”

Heaving heavy breathes, you threw a final gift from him at his head. He brought a hand up to rub his head where it hit, wincing and opening his mouth to speak again

“Shut up Gojo! Don’t you dare speak a word to me.”

You spat, pure venomous rage in your tone

“I didn’t want to fight with you like this. But I guess you’re happy huh? Getting some sick fucking satisfaction seeing me like this?”

Growling, you paced around the room.

“No, this is breaking my heart.. I never wanted to hurt you-“

“Well you fucking did! I was waiting until we graduated to fuck you over like you did but it’s all out in the open now.”

Throwing your arms up, a delirious smile itched at your lips. You felt lightheaded, spurs of adrenaline shocking every cell in your body.

“What do you mean? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving Gojo. That’s what I’m doing. I’m moving far, far away.”

Smiling at him, he trembled under your gaze

“I was going to disappear after graduation. Leave you wondering where I went, and maybe, just maybe, you’d feel the sickly heart break that I’ve been feeling this whole fucking time!”

Satorus eyes welled up in tears, imagining what it would have been like for him to lose you like that.. dread in his heart at thinking you’d magically disappeared but now you were outright telling him you were leaving. It didn’t ease any of the dread, he was still losing you.

“Where are you going? I can fix this, I can make it up. Please, you can do whatever you want to get back at me, don’t leave me! You can even sleep with a hundred men, just stay! Please!”

He begged, tears flowing down his cheeks- trying to reach out to you only for his hands to get slapped away.

“Like I’d tell you. I’m leaving to get away from you. The life I built here isn’t worth it anymore because it’s been stained by you.”

Sneering at him, you walked over to your drawer and picked up a small velvet box.

“If you hadn’t fucked me over like this and ruined my fucking life, this was going to be yours.”

Pushing the box out, you dropped it into his hands and he opened it- exposing a sleek silver band.

“But I guess I’ll let you have it anyways. I couldn’t imagine giving someone else a band that was for a cheater.”

It broke your heart, it really did. Even if you’d thought you were slowly getting over it or coming to terms, this fight had opened just barely scabbed over wounds. Your emotions and words pouring out of each cut and gash he’d left your heart with.

“Now get the fuck out. Don’t talk to me again. Have fun with Getou.”

Grabbing the back of his shirt, you shoved him out of your dorm- throwing him into the hall.

It was over.

It was done.

You weren’t his anymore, and he hadn’t been yours for some time.

[lastoneout]

I was too high last night to formulate this into proper words but something plagiarists(and by extension AI techbros) don't get about people who make things out of a love for that thing is that they are, consciously or not, doing it because they enjoy the process itself. Yes, it is easier to have a machine make a mug or painting or essay for you, or to steal someone else's, but again, people who actually like making stuff don't want someone else to do it for us because you have fully removed the thing we enjoy: the process of making a thing.

Like sure it would be nice to have a finished Gundam model or a trainset, but people who build gunpla kits and trainsets don't WANT someone else to do it for them, they want to do it. The sculptor or painter doesn't want a machine to just give them finished works of art, they want to MAKE that art themselves. The home gardner can just buy fresh food at the store, the tailor or knitter can buy a finished shirt or sweater whenever they want, but they don't because the act of gardening and sewing and knitting itself is what they enjoy.

Plagarists and AI techbros don't get that because they do not enjoy these processes. They enjoy making money and having social clout, and so they are perfectly happy stealing and automating things so that they don't have to do an ounce of real work while still getting all of the benefits of having created something. It really is all about finding the fastest and easiest way to get someone to hand you money or elect you god-king of the internet.

And the reason these two groups have such a hard time understanding each other is because of that fundamental disconnect. People who create things can never understand someone just wanting to press a button or copy-paste their way to having art because we want to indulge in the joy of creation itself, and those plagarists and AI dudes can't understand artists because to them it's just a means to an end so ofc it's in their best interest to make it as easy as possible. They don't get why someone would do this, or anything, if not for the social capital and/or actual capital it brings. Ofc it's better to automate it or steal it from someone else, that means you can make money faster and spend your time enjoying actual meaningful things like being wealthy and looked up to or w/e.

Plus creators(for lack of a better word) know keenly what it's like to BE stolen from or at least know people it has happened to, and so we are generally anti-plagarism by default.

Anyway yeah thats why to anyone who creates the other group seems so soulless and empty. It's because they kinda are. Because they don't value art or artists or care about creating things, and they certainly don't have any ammount of respect for the people they're hurting, they just want money and for "lesser" people to bow down as they walk by, and they are perfectly fine stealing to get there. It's the same mentality you get from people who pressure you to monetize your hobbies, they only see skills as an opportunity to make money. And it's really fucking sad.

[angelyuji]

yandere rick sanchez headcanons

(obviously very ooc… like im taking his worst characteristics and turning the dial to 100)

cw // spoilers for literally the entire show, noncon, stalking, kidnapping, torture, being kept like a pet, drugging

18+

RAUEIA:ADOBAIDHJO?S{DH*}

canonically big dick like i need him BAD

guys im so in love with this old fucker

season 1+2 rick would definitely just keep you around for sex

the only reason he hasn’t gotten rid of you is cuz you’re a “good fuck”

literally treats you like an object or a cute little pet

“e-eat.” rick places a plate on a table he brought for you. he moves away to type on some computer. all you remember is a green portal in your room and a man you had never met dragging you out of bed. the room you were in was filled with computers and equipment. he didn’t bother to tie you up.

you don’t move, hearing your silence, rick turns to look at you. he burps, “i-i-i bring you some food out of the goodness of my h-heart and you’re not going to eat it?” you don’t answer. “s-s-stupid fucking b-bitch.” he moves over to grab you by the hair and pulls you closer to the table. “eat the fucking food.” you scream, your scalp searing in pain, as he shoves your face onto the table.

s1+2 rick kinda feels like the type to peer-pressure you into a drinking or doing drugs because he can

like he’d definitely force you to some alien drugs just cuz he can or cuz you’re not as resistant when you’re high off your balls

but season 3 and onward??? oh he’s so obsessed with you

let me explain this personality change

by season 3, rick is starting to care for his family so if you meet him after the whole federation prisoner arc of his, he’s more of like a clingy wet cat vibe… like imagine wisp the cat…. guys i lowkey cooked with that comparison

he’s allowed himself to care for his family (even sometimes jerry)

so when he meets you, this sweet, kind, beautiful person. he wants to protect you. he wants to keep you safe from all the shit that happens to the people in his life

constantly checks on you, calling and texting you daily. he always tries to play it off as a butt-dial

‘sdas’ you’re at work when your phone buzzes as rick’s text comes through. you look at the gibberish, roll your eyes, and continue working. 15 minutes later, a green portal flashes open next to you. everyone jumps in surprise, looking at the portal as rick walks through. “why didn’t you text me back?” rick grabs your arm, looking pissed. you look around, embarrassed.

you lower your voice to a hush, “you texted me gibberish? what exactly was i supposed to text back?” his grip on your bicep tightens and you wince.

“i-it was an accident, but y-you didn’t text back and i was worried.” rick starts to pull you into the portal, but you stand your ground.

“rick, i’m working. you have to go.” rick’s face darkens at your words, but he lets go when your coworker comes up to you.

“is everything alright?” she looks concerned and alarmed at rick’s appearance, and he rolls his eyes.

“(y/n) here, didn’t answer my text so i got worried.” rick pulls you into a tight hug and whispers into your ear, “next time, text me back.”

builds you a bunch of stuff to keep you safe like a chip that insta-kills anyone that it detects to be bothering you

that first week of meeting you, he had broken into your house at night and planted a tracker in your skin when you were sleeping, so he knows where you are at all times

during the whole killing rick-prime arc, he was so scared that you would get hurt or prime would come after you

he didn’t want to lose you like how he lost diane and beth :(

“baby, come on, it’s for your safety.” rick pleads as you slam your hands against the force field.

“SO YOU TRAP ME IN A CAGE????” you scream as rick presses a hand against the wall.

“it-it’s just for your protection, baby, i can’t lose you too.”

“FUCK YOU, RICK. I SWEAR WHEN YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE, WE’RE DONE.” you wouldn’t stop screaming at him. morty watches, uncomfortably.

“are-are you sure this is okay, rick?” rick’s face is unreadable as he registers your words.

“it-it’s fine, morty. i just won’t ever let them out.”

rick also seems like the type to have a breeding kink, but like with the no kids yk (this mf does NOT want more kids) (especially after the whole ghia incident)

like he doesn’t use condoms and he doesn’t pull out, because he likes marking you as his from the inside.

he would definitely have a marking kink like hickeys, love bites, collars, anything that shows the world that you’re taken by him

rick’s hands caress you as you struggle in your bonds.

“i’m sorry, baby, so so-sorry.” he buries his head in your shoulder, sucking at your nape. his hands start to pull at your pants and you struggle harder. he pulls away from your neck to leave wet kisses down your chest, “i know, i know, i’m sorry, sweetie. you just looks so cute, so sw-sweet. it’s really not my fault.”

[get-rammed]

The idea for this AU comes from the games, but mostly follows after Shadow Generations with some modifications, hence the AU part. It's mostly self indulgent since he's always been my favorite, and I saw an excuse to draw body horror :}

Will contain spoilers for Shadow/Sonic Generations. But whomp whomp, more information for my version of Shadow/the basis of this AU below.

So the main idea for this AU is that Shadow didn't lose his Doom Powers after he defeated Black Doom. He overcame his violent angry nature to remain a morally grey good guy. Who just happens to have sick ass extra powers now. I am unfortunately a sucker for "I was born to be bad, and I do the wrong thing sometimes, but I want to be good and I'm trying my best."

Another large change for this AU is designs and heights. They're super powered aliens. Let em be a lil bit bigger. Plus that's just kind of what I specialize in :')

--

When Black Doom and the Time Eater were defeated, it caused various rifts to be left open with nobody to close them. Which in turn allows anomalies into Shadow and Co.'s world. They can range from simple items (pens, cups, occasionally buildings, things of that nature), to lost and confused people/animals/what have you, to large dangerous beings from other worlds and timelines.

Sometimes the things that comes through the portal, don't want to go back through it, so that's where Shadow found his purpose. He gets to fight and devour the anomalies that won't go home :)

Shadow uses his Doom Morph to consume dangerous anomalies, absorbing their energy in the process. When he's in this form, he's far more reactive and hostile. So they have to clear the area before deploying him. There a handful of people he won't outright attack even in this form, but Rouge is one of the few who can calm him down if he starts to slip too far into the darkness. Because I am a sucker for their friendship :')

There are a number of agencies and world governments who call upon Shadow now for help. Basically if they send Shadow after you, you're not surviving. In a way he does absolutely hate becoming an attack dog for all these agencies, but he also knows he's the only one (sometimes with help) who can stop some of these anomalies.

That being said, if he doesn't agree an anomaly is dangerous, he will not fight as strongly or destroy them. He still maintains his idea of what's right and wrong. It's Shadow, he's not going to blindly follow orders.

--

Shadow has become a little more open after finally getting to properly grieve the loss of his family. Finally got to process everything. He's still standoffish and slow to trust, but he's at least willing to try to trust more people.

--

With his Doom Powers remaining, he has to constantly fight the urges to commit to the chaos and violence he was born for. Most times it just gives him a headache to fight back mentally. But when the urges are very strong, he has to fight the internal war much harder. Which is where he ends up with bloody noses.

The bloody noses can happen suddenly, and be rather aggressive. In the cases of bloody noses, he'll chaos snap out of the room and try to find somewhere quiet and dark until his internals heal themsleves.

It's basically a case of his blood pressure spiking insanely fast and bursting a bunch of delicate vessels in his nose. Also the idea of the darkness inside of him just kinda. Chewing away at him metaphorically and physically.

He's had enough time to figure out what sets him off, but occasionally random things trigger a nose bleed. This has forced him to be more delicate with how he responds to things, but also has forced him to be a bit more open about what's wrong with him.

The bloody noses also help act as a power balance thing so Shadow isn't just all powerful all the time. If he's not careful, he can go too far and hurt innocent people. Which he'd rather not do. It's an indicator of sorts that he's leaning too far in the wrong direction and he needs to check himself.

Lack of inhibitor rings. With the retention of the Doom Powers, Shadow has more going on internally to help balance his chaos energy. More in tune with himself, but not fully connected if that makes sense. Not wearing some of his inhibitor rings allows him greater access to the Doom Powers at all times.

It also happens that if he wears his wrist rings, they limit too much energy and he becomes sluggish and tired. He now requires more energy to function, and all 4 inhibitor rings limit too much.

He keeps the ones on his ankles on as he does still need some kind of a blocker so he doesn't burn himself out. Only having 2 on is a good balance so he can function and fight.