#they have magnets in their paws to hold hands

[challenger-fan-club]

fwb Art who's absolutely in love with you and obsessed with you and who asked to be your boyfriend many times and taking you on many dates but you kept rejecting until one day he gets to know that you're going on a date with someone else so he tries to stop thay date from happening and showing you who you belong to by having the most passionate sex and finally convincing you to accept you as your boyfriend

you can say you don't want this to be Stanford Art but it is.

You've turned him down so many times. But you can't stay away from him. The way he kisses you, the way he touches you. You're needy for him but you know that you can't be in a relationship with him. He's not good for you, not good for you to be distracted. You're not exactly the dating type and Art is almost ready to be a husband. All your friends think you're insane, you know that they're ready to settle down but we're too young and you want to be carefree for just a while. Art is also so very nice, and sweet and kind and you don't want to hurt him when you inevitable self destruct. You rationalise it to protect yourself, it would be like torturing a puppy. You don't want to waste his time and effort. You're doing this for him.

But you can't keep yourself away from Art. You always end up at his door at the end of the night, and he's so obsessed with you, he'll never tell you no. He just makes you cups of tea and cuddles you and keeps you warm. Giving you everything that you want, whenever you want it. "We're just friends with benefits." You tell him and repeat to yourself and Art nods his head as if to say "i know." He invites you to the bar with him, says Patrick and his new girlfriend will be there but they always seem to mysteriously cancel. Patrick was either the worst friend or just didn't exist. "This is not a date Art." He gets you both drinks. He gives you the "i know" nod, slightly hurt, given you a face, slightly like you've stood on a puppys paw. Art asks to be your boyfriend a lot. And you know that you should cut him off and let him go but you can't help yourself. It's like you and Art are magnets or somehow cosmetically intertwined.

Art walks up to you and your friends standing talking. It kills him because he wants to wrap his hands around you like he did in his bed last night. But because you're just fuck buddies, he can't kiss you. He's not even sure if your friends know that you've been seeing each other for the last while. You try to ignore him as you're continuing the conversation as one of your friends starts speaking to him. "Do you know where youre going? and more importantly, what are you wearing?"

Art's ears perk up at the conversation and you try and ignore him again. "I think we're just going for drinks, nothing special." You say softly. "and then back to his? I'm so jealous, he's so fucking hot. I can't believe he just asked you out." You tried to hold back a wince when she said it. You didn't mean for Art to find out about it, at all. Definitely didn't want him to find out like this. He didn't say anything. You didn't want to look at him and you didn't know when he was looking at you. "You should wear that black dress you wore a few weeks ago... and those boots, you'd look so hot!" Your friend continued but you had already withdrawn from the conversation. You knew that outfit worked because Art wanted to take you to the nearest empty room when he saw you wearing it. "I'll text you later, let you know how it goes." You left the conversation. Art stood, making small talk with your friends.

It was around half past 8 when you were getting ready. You were stupidly nervous. You didn't really go on dates, especially with people you didn't know. And you hadn't heard from Art all day long which made you nervous. You didn't want to hurt Art, you didn't know if Art was hurt. He was sensitive so you could only assume that he was sulking in his room. There was a knock at your door as finished fixing your make up. You looked at yourself in the mirror before answering the door. "Hi Art, what are you doing here?" He looked at your face for a moment before letting your eyes gaze over your body. Your curvy hips and cleavage was on show, dress hitting just above your thighs. Art thought you looked perfect. "Are you not going to invite me in?" Art smiled at you. "uhh... actually I'm just getting ready to go out." You were confused. Had he not heard the conversation earlier? You watched him as he followed you into your room. "Yeah, I know... I just thought I could convince you to stay here." He was being very confident, somewhat dominant which he normally isn't it. "Art, cmon." He sat on the bed as he watched you putting your earring in. "Cmon what?" You stood in front of him as he ran his hands on the outside of your thigh. "tell me, you don't want to cancel on him and stay here with me." You were biting your lip as he touched your thighs. "Art..." His hands rubbed up your body to your hips as he pulled you closer, separating his legs, allowing you to stand in between them.

He starts by kissing your stomach. He looks up at you as he pulls your dress up your thighs slowly, his kiss moving slowly down your body. "You know he can't make you feel as good as I can..." he continued to kiss down your body before placing his kiss on your underwear. Your hands were in his hair, rubbing his head, encouragingly. He started to pull you down your underwear as he guided you to the bed. "Art, he's going to be here soon." He just smiled as he started kissing your neck and his hands started rubbing your clit, dipping his fingers into you as you moan against him. "Good, he can hear how good I make you feel." He started to bite at your collar bone, trying to leave a mark. "Artttt..." you almost moaned. "Thats it, say my name, say who you belong to." He moved his fingers faster until you were begging for him to fuck you. Art was really playing a very good game, making you moan, making you a mess underneath him. "You're so good." He swiftly moved his boxers down and allowed his cock to bounce free as he rubbed it against your wetness. He started to push himself inside of you, inch by inch as you moaned. He kissed your mouth, passionately before moving his kiss back to your neck, down to your chest where he pulled your dress down so your breasts were exposed. He started sucking, licking and biting on your nipples as he slammed into you. "Art, fuck I'm gonna cum." You moaned as he quickened his pace. "That's it, good girl, cum on my cock, cum for me, you're all mines." He moaned as he switched between kissing you and playing with your nipples. "you're so good, fuck, you feel so good." He couldn't stop as he started to fill you the second you let your orgasm go. He continued to kiss you and move the hair out of your face. "You're literally so gorgeous." He whispered in your ear as he held his cock inside of you. "when are you finally going to admit that you were made for me?" he kissed your neck. You sighed. "Art, you know..." Art kissed you again. "Don't do this, whatever your worries are about me, we can do it, together. I want you. All of you and you want me, very clearly." He kept your gaze as he held you. "It's all of me or none of me, I'm not playing seconds." The words hurt you and you got a brief moment to think about this being the last time, that the other option was no Art in your life. "I'm happy to wait." He pulled himself away and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You were alone for just a moment. You didn't want you and Art to be over. But you thought you knew how you felt, what you wanted but everything Art said and did, just made your heart hurt. You wanted him. You needed him. When you thought he was mad at you, you felt weak and now he's here. Saying it's him or nothing. You thought you had the power, always telling him no to a relationship but being faced without Art, you didn't want to do it. The thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Shit. Your date. This was your sink of swim moment.

Art popped his head out of the bathroom. "should i hide in the bathroom or tell him to go away?" Art was topless looking down at you with just his boxer shorts on. "Tell him to go away, then take your shorts back off?" His face almost lit up. "So you're finally gonna be my girl?" You smirked at him and rolled your eyes. "I'm all yours Donaldson."

[binah-beloved]

OHMYGODBINAHPLUSHITSSOLOVELYIWANTONE

*ahem*

Where did you get the plush?

it was a preorder from @/chikosworkshop. extras can be found here:

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1709115308/20cm-cotton-doll-angela-and-binah-lor?click_key=b6a4cdf5e8f760a7df4a88916c8f0aa51aaf5299%3A1709115308&click_sum=d0b0d045&ref=shop_home_active_4&crt=1&sts=1

it's actually a paired duo of Angela and Binah, but you can order one or the other, which is what i did

[beenbaanbuun]

tits, ass or thighs w/ ateez

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/smut

warnings - groping (consensual), size kink (yunho), manhandling (yunho, kind of yeosang), kind of somnophilia in sans, mingi is always eating pussy in my fics…, spanking (mingi and wooyoung), i think that’s the major ones…

kim hongjoong - ass

so my theory is that hongjoong likes having you on his lap; more specifically, straddling his lap. whether that’s during sex, cuddling, or just to chat, he wants you sitting on his thighs, staring into his eyes. of course, half of it is about the intimacy of it all - face to face, eye to eye, all that good stuff - but he can’t deny that he really does love the way it gives him the perfect opportunity to grope your ass.

his arms are always wrapped around you to hold you close, and your ass is just the natural place his hands fall. you can’t expect him not to cop a feel when his hands are already there in prime position. besides, your ass is just too nice not to squeeze; it gives his hands something to do whilst you’re telling him about your day… and that’s not even mentioning the way it makes you squirm whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, using his grip on your ass to guide your pace as you ride him into oblivion.

park seonghwa - tits

seonghwa is a gentleman except when it comes to your tits. he is always just touching them, giving some sort of shitty excuse as to why he needs to. ‘oh, i slammed the breaks too hard and didn’t want the seatbelt to hurt you,’ he says as he slowly draws his hand away from where it was just sitting on your breast. ‘i meant to touch your shoulder but i missed,’ he smiles prettily as if that excuses the way he’s pawing at your tit. the way he sees it, he shouldn’t even need an excuse to feel you up at any given moment in time…

because you can’t really blame him for wanting to touch them constantly. he likes soft, cute things are your tits? well they just happen to be the softest, cutest things around! sue him if they’re like magnets for his hands! he can’t help the way they draw them in now can he?

jeong yunho - thighs

BIG HAND ON THIGH I REPEAT BIG HAND… ON THIGH!!!! like when he’s driving you places?!?!? or even when you’re just watching a movie together?!?!?!? UGH!!! it just makes you feel so small and protected and the thought of you being so small and fragile for him? that shit makes yunho weak at the knees. it’s even better when he gets to squeeze your thighs and feel your plush flesh under his fingertips. he likes the way it never fails to make you wriggle in your seat.

and i’m sorry but it all comes down to the fact that this man definitely has a size kink and whatever he can do to make himself feel like the big strong knight and you his tiny little damsel in distress, he will do it. unfortunately that means that he literally always has his hand on your thigh just to show you how big he is compared to you, and just how easy it would be to manhandle you into any position he wants…

kang yeosang - thighs

i think i’ve spoken about yeosang being a dom enough on this account, so i won’t go into any more details about that. all i will say is that he loves pinning you by your thighs. pretty boy is so strong and he just adores the way you helplessly squirm as he holds you to the bed by them. he will literally torture you for hours with his face between your legs, but you can’t even buck your hips with how tightly he’s holding onto your shaking thighs.

and don’t get me started on the bruises he leaves in his wake. he’s spend hours kissing and admiring the fingerprints left on your skin the day after, trailing over them with his fingers and his tongue until he has you squirming and begging for him to give you more. there’s rarely a day goes by where you don’t have tiny purple marks painted up and down your thighs…

choi san - tits

san likes to cuddle something when he sleeps, right? since sharing your bed, that something has become you. he likes his arms wrapped around your waist and his head pressed to your chest, your soft flesh acting as the fluffiest pillow in the world. it’s even better when you play with his hair, sending him into a sleepy daze in minutes.

and it’s not his fault when you wake up to him rutting against your thigh, face pressed between your tits as he incoherently mumbles about how gorgeous you are. actually, it’s yours for sleeping without a bra on. how is san supposed to not be horny when he wakes up every morning to your pretty nipples poking through his tshirt that he let you sleep in. it’s only right that you help him fix his problem, right? that you let him drool over your boobs as he dribbles cum onto your thighs?

song mingi - ass

with the amount i talk about mingi being a slut for eating pussy, i think we all saw this coming, right? like your ass is just the perfect place to hold onto while he tucks in to his favourite meal. he especially likes it when you’re sitting on his face and he can just grab it, using it as leverage to pin you to his face when you start to become oversensitive from his rough licks.

and don’t even get me started about how feral he gets when he eats your pussy from the back. literally eyes closed, moaning like a whore as he licks at you from behind. loves to just grope you while he eats you out, pinching and smacking it every few seconds because he adores the way it makes your pussy clench and squeeze out even more of your precious fluids. he’s literally a bitch in heat when it comes to eating pussy, you will never convince me otherwise

jung wooyoung - ass

he’s a smacker… that’s all i have to say. any time, anywhere, you always need to be on guard because you never know when wooyoung is going to come up behind you and just smack! he likes the way it makes you squeal and blush, thinking you look the most adorable when you’re pouting and scolding him for spanking your ass in the middle of a grocery store! most of the time he just gives you a cheeky smirk before promising - with his fingers crossed, of course - that he won’t do it again.

and he can’t lie, he likes the way it feels in his hand too. the way it jiggles from the impact hypnotises him, and it’s always a struggle for him to pull himself away and not do just one more. but it’s fine, because you never complain when he has you face down ass up in bed, hands raining down spank after spank on your pretty cheeks until they’re red from the impact.

choi jongho - tits

i’m 90% certain that if you’re in a relationship with this man, your tits will become his new favourite thing. whether that’s to look at, to play with, to suck on, it doesn’t really matter. what does matter is they’re his and he will never leave them alone. like he always insists that you wear no bra at home so he can see your pretty nipples; even better if you’re wearing a thin white tshirt too so he can see the colour of them through the material.

the no bra thing also helps when he has his hand slung over your shoulder and he’s pawing at one of them like it’s a stress ball. he won’t even be paying attention to you, yet his hand will be rhythmically palming your tit, his finger flicking against the nipple every so often. and then after all that, when you inevitably ask him to deal with the mess he’s made between your thighs, he’ll have the audacity to act like it’s your fault that you’re horny! he’ll still fuck you though, and you’ll still end up with a nice selection of new purple hickeys across your chest…

[entirelytoooobsessed]

just thinking about lightweight gojo...

going out with him and his friends for a night out, and he insists on not drinking at all because he knows he's going to embarrass himself in front of you, he knows he's going to do something he'll probably regret.

he spends the night trying to get geto and shoko off his ass about having a drink or doing some shots with them. but then you look at him and ask him if he wants to do shots with you (or, i just got the amazing idea, reading this over: bodyshots). he knows he should say no, knows that he'd be a whole hypocrite to say yes after telling everyone else no and scolding them for getting drunk.

but you smile at him, cheeks flushed and he groans at the inevitable decision in front of him. he can feel shoko and geto laughing behind his back. he only hesitates for a second, glancing back at them, ashamed of himself before agreeing.

and as the night goes on it becomes apparent that he is a lightweight, probably giggly, probably clingy and most definitely horny. it's like a switch-but not really. he has little filter to begin with but as soon as the slightest bit of alcohol is in his system that is out the window.

he can't keep his hands off of you it's like you're a magnet, drawing him in as his fingers sneak over your body, grabbing your hands and your hips and your face. flitting over your body like a man starved. he paws, and he gropes, pleading and begging you for nothing in particular it just feels right. he's needy in every way, no shame when he drunkenly growls like a protective dog at whoever gets close too you.

he can't stop staring at you either. his eyes all the bluer (his glasses long gone despite how overwhelmed it makes him with everything going on he needs to take in every bit of you). he looks at you as you're a god. as if he's not the strongest, basically a living god himself. he's willing (and probably does) fall to his knees sometime during the night, hugging your legs and begging for a chance, preening when you coo at him (just as drunk) and pet his hair.

his lips, despite how they've never really been able to hold back his thoughts say every depraved desire that comes to mind. every ounce of worship in his body plus a little more is spilled for you, if you weren't aware of his feelings before you'll definitely know them now (if you remember anything in the morning). several times he asks you if you could just 'take care of him' in the bathroom, paired with a needy whine while he presses your hand against the problem between his legs.

and in the morning he'll groan from a hangover and be ashamed of himself as he watches all of the videos his friends took of him in compromising positions, saying things he should definitely not have been saying. his group chat is going insane with every tease in the book, calling him all kinds of whipped for you that he'd get wasted just because you asked him to.

he'll turn red in embarrassment before turning around to curl into your bare chest.

"they're making fun of me~"

you only sigh and pull him closer, pulling the blankets over your head to shield your eyes from the pounding light.

"and you deserve it you simp."

[poppy-metal]

after the whole patrick lending you to art for forgiveness ordeal…… you are so unbelievably embarrassed. it’s bad enough patrick knows what you’re like, what you really want from a man, but now art knows? art, who you’ve spoken to maybe 5 times, knows the lows, knows how far you would degrade yourself to make the man you love happy. art, a mere stranger, knows that when you’re used your pussy gets soaking wet. when you’re disrespected you squeeze like you’re afraid he’ll leave. and being the kind warm person he is, he smiles at you, he waves at you like you’re friends. like you know anything about the other except for what they feel like on the inside. and god, he hadn’t even used protection. he came inside you in front of your boyfriend, and now he was free to roam the halls and smile and wave and come up to patrick and hang out and you got so quiet and so flushed it was like you were the third wheel. what really got you was how much you liked it. you liked being used. you wanted art to fuck you as hard as he needed to forgive patrick, you wanted him to hurt you. but something about it left a craving, a lingering desire. he didn’t like you like you liked him. you wanted him, him, but the only reason he did it that night was to get back at patrick, to set things right. you understood why he was so mean, but the docile and nagging part of yourself wanted to be so good he had to be nice. nice, kind, warm art. the art patrick got. you wanted that.

patrick, ever observant, knows exactly how you feel. knows you want more, but don’t know how to ask. knows art wants more, because once they’re reconciled, best friends talk. started off as a joke over beer, asking would it be so bad if it happened again? decided it wouldn’t be bad. it would be really really good. and maybe it would be even better if it happened again and again and again.

so they pull you into arts bedroom, saying they wanna “talk”, but they mainly talk to each other about you. you sit between them, cheeks burning, as patrick palms the squashed fat of your ass, as he’s allowed to do, while art gently pushes your hair away from your neck and breathes there, as you didn’t know he was allowed to do.

“patrick told me you’re embarrassed about what we did. is that true, baby?”

baby. you shudder and look to patrick, panicked, but he only smiles. he raised his eye brows and on command you answer.

“yes.”

“i’m really sorry about that. aren’t i, pat?”

“mhm. he wants to make it up to you. you don’t have to be embarrassed you know.”

their hands and mouths moved like magnets closer to your skin, patrick pawing at your thigh and ass as arts nose brushes your throat as he kisses your collarbone.

“ok,” you say, barely over a whisper.

“ok? ok what?”

“ok. make it up to me.”

such a brave command in such a weak voice. they both laugh, and the air tickles your neck.

they are going to take good care of you. their good little girl

im gonna bite you like im really gonna do it im gonna bite you im gonna sink my teeth in you

brain short circuiting actually head empty just patrick holding your thighs to your chest so art can eat slowly at your cunt like the slut he is - flashing those blue eyes at you. like hes cataloging your expressions, finding what places he has to tongue at to make your thighs twitch, your toes curl.

patricks not a bystander either. he bands one thick arm beneath your knees to keep you in place, his other hand reaching up to cup your jaw - turn your head to his so he can see you too. "you like my friends tongue on your pussy?" when your chest heaves and your eyes dart away he grins and leans in, "you dont have to lie. i think it's fucking hot."

then his tongue is in your mouth and you're opening for him, splitting your lips to let him inside at the same time arts tongue parts your lower lips to lap across your entrance. you cant help how your cunt squeezes, trying to drag him inside. he pulls back.

"can i eat her ass?"

you gasp when patrick lets you go. chin wet with spit from his thorough tongue fuck of your mouth. it isn't lost on you how art didn't bother to ask you, he asks patrick. that makes you squirm. arch back into patricks hard body which rumbles with a low laugh.

"you're gonna make her fall in love with you if you do that. she loves having her ass played with. think she'd be happy if i just fucked that hole and didn't touch her pussy at all."

art is gripping his cock through his boxers. squeezing the head. "fuck." his eyes finally meet yours and he licks his lips. "you want me to?"

as much as you do love it, its still embarrassing to admit. its such an intimate place. even now you can feel your rim clenching like its shy. shy but eager for the attention.

"o-okay." you tell him. and patrick reaches down, thick hands spreading your cheeks till all of you is exposed. wet cunt still open from the work art put in with his mouth, the seam between your asscheeks spread to reveal your little twitching hole. it winks repeatedly at arts stare. "please," you whine, the humiliation making you run hot, burning burning burning between them. you cover your face with your hands when art starts to lean in, pink lips parted, face flushed, blonde locks wild around his head like a halo.

his cherubic beauty is what makes the act so fucking lewd. and when the touch of his tongue flutters against your tight hole you cry out, high and whiney.

"aw," patrick says in faux sympathy. you know he doesn't actually feel bad. you can feel the hard length of his dick at your back. he loves when you're embarrassed. thinks its cute. "you're gonna make her cry, art."

you hear art moan, feel the vibration of it between your cheeks that patrick is keeping spread wide - his tongue is lapping at your rim steadily, soft coaxing licks that has the furled muscle relaxing for him. hes evil, theres nothing cherubic about him at all, you decide. hes the devil.

"little babies gonna cry cause her ass is getting tonguefucked -" lips press against the side of your head. gentle. "all your secrets are out now, baby. we both know what a fucking pervert you are. open your eyes and watch art lick your hole, c'mon."

and like the puppet on strings you are, you listen.

[celestialprincesse]

🌹💞

Simon Riley does not like Valentines day. To him, it's another one of those pointless holidays people use as an excuse for overconsumption and to try and show off how their lives are better than everyone else's. Simon hates the excessive gaudiness of it all and the lame hearts and flowers. Seriously, how much thought does someone put into a wilting bouquet of red roses and some overpriced chocolates in a flimsy heart shaped box - they're at the front of every supermarket throughout basically all of February, everywhere.

Simon Riley hates Valentines day until he meets you. Bumps into you at the local florist, unusually unaware of his surroundings as he stews on the pointless idiocy of another lame holiday. The way you squeal as the three dozen peonies wrapped in brown paper tumble to the floor which you land rather inelegantly beside snaps him from his reverie with a grunt. "Fuck - shite - M' so sorry love." He stutters out, feeling like all the air has been punched from his chest when he sees your big eyes staring up at him with wild confusion, now crumpled flowers long forgotten as you stare up at the intoxicatingly rich brown eyes of the man before you. Although, man doesn't feel like the right word for him, tall and strong and holding out a hand the size of your head to help you up, your peonies dwarfed by his long fingers as he helps you up.

You vaguely hear yourself mumble something in response, an awkward stutter like a lovesick teenager asking their crush to the movies, met by a strong hand to the top of your bicep, soothing you, asking if you're alright. A concerned eyebrow furrows when you don't respond, just stand there gawking like a fish. He wonders if maybe you hit your head on the way down, and he was too dumbstruck by the flurry of soft silky skin, glossy, sun-struck hair and petals to see. You look like you've just seen God, and he looks like he's just seen the most beautiful thing said God could ever have crafted.

"Are you okay?" The low timbre of his voice - you don't even know how to react, so dazed and confused and there's butterflies - no, not butterflies, bald eagles and kestrels and ospreys, massive feathery wings beating against your diaphragm and rendering you speechless - butterflies are for normal men. The man before you is too monumental for butterflies.

"Yes! Yes." You squeak in embarrassment like a mouse under a cat's paw, looking defeatedly down at your flowers, brown eyes following your gaze with a sympathetic look.

"Were these for someone?" He seems almost a little flustered by his foolish lack of spatial awareness, which just so happened to strike at the worst time, seeing as now he stands before you, clutching a withering bouquet, failing to save this conversation. Both of you stand like that together, in some strange limbo, like time has stood still in order to force you together, not starting back up again until this conversation goes somewhere. "Just me." You murmur, voice so pathetically small under the draw of his magnetism. He's probably here to get flowers for his girlfriend, or fiancee even. She'll probably turn up any second, beautiful and charismatic and just as magnetic as the man before you is.

"Let me buy you some more, yeah?" He nods his head back in the direction of the fancier florist in town, the one you'd splurged on in a valentines induced self-pity party. He buys you three dozen pink peonies, matching paper and ribbons too. He also insists on taking you for a coffee, and buying you some silly pink and white frosted cake in the excuse that your blood sugars probably dropped after the fall and some other fake nonsense like that. You obviously say yes, to the flowers and the coffee and the cake - to the gentle smiles and the crease of his warm brown eyes, his hand on the small of your back. Both of you say yes to giving Valentines day a try.

⋆ ˚.⋆୨୧˚

Some short simple little V day fluff for y'all the brain isn't braining at the moment but also wanted to give you all a little Valentines day present because ily

[argisthebulwark]

Pretty Please?

summary: Asking them to let you tie a bow around their bicep💕 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Mercer warnings: some swearing, unserious threats (Mercer) masterlist

"Oh hell yeah." Farkas isn't ashamed to admit that he flexes just a little when you wrap the cute ribbon around his bicep. He loves the excited gleam in your eye and the shameless way your hands linger on his muscles even when the task is complete. "Now what?" He laughs, enjoying the satisfied smile on your face. "You keep it there." "For how long?" "Until it falls off, I guess." You shrug, allowing his arms to wrap around you. Farkas can't help himself from drawing closer to you, there's something magnetic about being in your presence. Any silly little joke is worth seeing you smile. "What if it breaks?" "How would it break?" Oh, you've played right into his game. Farkas flexes his triceps, feeling the flimsy ribbon strain and snap around his muscles. He adores the pout you force to cover up the clear amusement when you pluck the pink fabric from his arm. "You just wanted to show off." "C'mon, tie another one. I promise to leave it all day." Of course he's true to his word. Farkas double checks your knot on the second bow, strangely invested in this one staying as long as possible. He's thrilled to talk to the new recruits about his lovely partner who'd placed it there, fingers brushing the soft fabric sentimentally each time he thinks of you.

Vilkas grumbles something under his breath, eyes never straying from his book. Behind the locks of dark hair you spot his expression, noting the lack of real annoyance. Fighting back a grin you play along with his obligatory protests. "It's just a cute little bow." "What purpose does it serve?" "I can ask someone else." You sigh theatrically, turning on your heel. Right on queue Vilkas huffs, a strong hand closing around your wrist and tugging you closer. "Just put it on." He growls just as you'd expected. He thinks he's so scary, but Vilkas sits eerily still and allows you to tie a pretty pink ribbon around his bicep. Despite his protests it remains there all day. One sharp glare shuts down the giggling from a group of whelps resting in the main hall, though the older Companions are harder to quiet. Farkas nearly combusts when Vilkas breezes past him without saying a word, his gleeful expression matched only by yours. After a few boring meetings you scurry down to the marketplace in search of your partner, thrilled at the sight of him pawing through bits of armor while merchants and civilians stare pointedly at your ribbon. It had started as a funny suggestion but seeing him now makes your heart melt. Fully aware that you're killing his tough persona, you skip closer until Vilkas' large hand instinctively reaches for you. He continues haggling with the merchant, seemingly unaware of the pink ribbon flapping in the gentle afternoon breeze. "You doin' this for all the lads?" Brynjolf smirks, holding his arm out to you. "Why?" You hum, so carefully tying a perfect bow over his muscled arm. He isn't sure why you've chosen to add a pink ribbon to his armor but for you he'd do anything. "Would that make you jealous?" "Oh, desperately." He deadpans, enveloping you in his arms. Brynjolf relaxes when you brush through his hair, grateful for the distraction from the endless stacks of paperwork towering on his desk. "Just you, Bryn." You assure him, adjusting the bow until it's perfect. "Thank the gods for that - but did ya have to choose such a bright color, love?" "Some of the recruits have been eyeing you a bit too much for my liking." You admit, sinking deeper into his touch. "Had to stake my claim." "I live and breathe for you, love." From a man who's spent decades lying and stealing, those are the truest words he's ever spoken. Brynjolf loves the excited way you fuss at his bow, ensuring it will stay in place. "What if I get called on a job? This frilly pink'll surely get me caught." "Good thing you're the best there is." "Aye, love. Got that right."

"Absolutely not." Miraak lies, resolve already cracking. He can never say to no to you for long. "Why not?" "Why should I allow this?" "I think you'll look cute." He groans at your words, fully aware that he can not resist that sweet tone of your voice. Dropping whatever tome he'd been reading for far too long he allows you to crawl into his lap. It's painfully difficult to not just give in to you. Miraak knows that his intimidating persona is all but shattered in your presence but that does not stop him from grasping at its last remaining shreds when he can. "I have slain thousands. I could end you with a word. I am not cute." "Fine." You huff, still clutching the frilly piece of ribbon. "You're pretty, is that better?" "It is not." He grumbles, putting up no fight when your fingers dance up his arm. "Would this please you?" "Greatly." His heart swells at that smile, the one you've only shown him. To the rest of Tamriel you are a being of myth, the Last Dragonborn, the only one who holds the world's fate in the palm of your hands. You could save or condemn continents with a word. Yet here you sit, face cupped in Miraak's gloved hands and pouting over a cute pink ribbon. He sighs, unable to maintain the act any longer. "As you wish, my Dragon."

"Try it and I'll gut you." Mercer grunts, content to ignore your request - until he sees the disappointment shimmering in your eyes. That excited smile fades and your hands fall to your sides and oh, the guilt kicks his ass. He turns behind the desk, disgusted by how badly be wants to please you. Wordlessly, he raises his left arm. He glares down at the list of recently recovered oddities without absorbing any information when you happily bounce closer, touch featherlight as you tie the scrap of fabric around his arm. "You markin' me for some sort of hit?" He snarks, attempting to distance himself from the sheer pleasure of you leaning so close to him. "There's easier ways to kill you, honey." Your voice is light, unaffected by his refusal. "I'm goin' away on a job for a while, I just figured you'd think of me when you saw this." Mercer grunts noncommittally once more, swallowing the words threatening to escape - you think he requires a silly bow to think of you? Every moment you're away from the Cistern he's worrying over your safety, counting the hours the job should take until his chest is tight. He doesn't mention it again, though after your departure he catches a few other thieves snickering behind their hands. He strides through the Flagon without looking at them, summoning the most cutting voice he can before speaking. "Say another word and you won't live to see sunrise."

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 09. M!Robin (Jealousy Sex + Yandere)

— ✧ warnings: Yandere, Somnophilia, dubcon, Creampie — ✧ word count: 2,777 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Appearances are hard to keep up with when he's got you in his life. Though, all things considered, he thinks he's done a pretty good job of keeping your dumb little brain unaware of his true feelings thus far— real self locked away behind nice smiles and sweet platitudes out of necessity. Placating you until it's a good time time to strike, to get his grubby manhandling hands all over every inch of you like he fucking deserves; especially after putting up with you for so long, his whole life as he remembers it to be precise. Childhood best friends turned hopeful lovers.

And yet, he's too late. Despite all of the patient solitary wanting, fist down his pants over your sleeping frame every night, watching, waiting, struggling not to touch your most sensitive parts as you lay unaware, biding his time by instead collecting items of affection from you unnoticed, just so that his selfish self doesn't come on too strongly and accidentally scare you off. Pining in secrecy because his intentions are anything but pure, and you're so fucking innocent to him, God.

Even after all that time of him waiting— you still run off with someone else.

To who? To fucking Whitney, that's who. A shared bully figure, someone so undeserving of your kindness it's almost laughable, if only he didn't need you more than life itself. A slap in the face he intends on returning in kind tonight, sneaking his way to your bedroom early in the morning, when everyone else sleeps— careful of the creaky floorboards, he remembers which one makes the most noise— to show his beloved all about what you've been missing out on. And, selfishly, to express some of his built up frustration and downright hatred he holds for the man you've been seeing behind his back this whole time.

Because he's not as stupid as he's lead you to believe. Tapping into your precious little saviour complex as a means to grow closer to you, feigning innocence in the face of your genuine curiosity, just to play the part of your loving, harmless, childhood best friend. And it's been working, too; that's the worst part. The fact that he was so close to earning his reward, creeping into your room with slow movements so as to not wake you from the obnoxiously old hinges, so close to having you that he can practically taste you as his frame hovers over your own sleeping one.

A regular sight for him, pants already tenting just from huffing the same air as you, holding his breath for a second or two too long just to accurately hear you cutely puff out a few of your own. God, he bets Whitney doesn't appreciate you like this, does he? Bending down, careful not to fuss over you too much because you look just so cute snoozing away like that, hovering his lips mere inches away from your own for the sole purpose of sniffing. Inhaling your delicious scent like it were a drug, and it might as well be from how dizzy with desire his head becomes, cock heavy and dribbling in his pants without even having to touch you.

Does Whitney get the same way with you?

Drooling over your sleeping body, greedy paw magnetic to his cock as he starts to tug on it just from hearing you snore, blissfully unaware but oh, you make such a pretty victim. Of his love, of course. His obsession with the way your chest rises and falls in the moonlight, fat beads of precum rolling down his length, dripping down his balls to leave him feeling all gross and sticky and in love. All pure intentions here, he privately assures you.

Too many countless nights have been spent this way. Yearning for you, craving just a single taste— knowing deep down that the first bite is always the sweetest; hence why he's been waiting so long. Here, have this freshly peeled orange slice, I plucked the section by hand just for you. Except, instead of dipping your orange juice soaked fingers down his throat, Whitney has had the supreme pleasure of tasting instead.

To which he physically cringes at the mere thought of, a full body jerk back, cock throbbing in his pants out of sheer jealousy for where your fingers have been.

He's only here to take back what is rightfully his anyway. What is, and always has been, his claim. Proven by the fact that his cock twitches for you now, how it drools just from being near you.

"Shit..." He curses under his breath, still pawing away at his hard bulge, aimed directly at you. Only the barely audible shuffle of his pyjama pants every time he jerks his cock filling the room besides your own steady breathing. And then, a smile stretched his lips. Wide and toothy at the way you so easily get under his skin, how even just watching you sleep is enough to get his cock rock hard and his balls taut with seed. Wouldn't you agree that this indicates fate? That despite your affair with some bully like Whitney, the fact that he's graciously accepting your unknowing apology means that you're destined to be by his side, right?

"I still love you." Despite your adultery, he continues to smile. Interspersed with rushed gasps and sighs, an honest attempt to keep himself quiet out of fear of startling you— but don't worry. He has a lot more planned for you tonight. Best laid plans that've been years in the making.

Although, he thinks so at least. The reality of the situation dawns on him as you lazily snore that by being this close to you, one wrong move and his lips are touching yours, he can't think straight. Torn between taking things slow like he'd initially premeditated, or— go in for the kill as his prey lays bare.

A split second decision, unable to stick to fully one idea, he goes for a mixed approach. Tip toeing his way to the other side of your bed; it's not the first time he's slept over, and he'll make sure that it won't be the last either, he quietly sneaks under your sheets to snuggle his body next to your. So soft and warm you are, hair tickling his nose for him to huff at. "Fuck," He whispers to himself, fist instinctively wrapped tight around his twitching cock, fighting the urge to brutally flip you onto your tummy and pounding your shape into the bed below as fast as he can. It'd be easier if he took his time, right? Played into the tired role of sweet best friend, his eyes rolling back in spite of his attempts to return to that mindset— he can't help himself when it comes to you.

"S'all you're fault." He continues to whisper, reprimanding your sleeping body in hopes of your dumb little brain subconsciously remembering his actions tonight. "If only— fuck," he accidentally rubs too close to the sun, hips stuttering as his clothed tip brushes against your ass. He has to take a moment to collect himself, seething behind you out of utter frustration, or love? They feel all too similar to him when he's in this state. That is, when he's next to you.

"If only you didn't choose Whitney."

Deciding it's now or never simply because he's leaking profusely inside his pyjamas, surely turning them sheer with the amount of affection he regards you with, he tugs his bottoms down. No underwear to follow, free balling by your side because he wanted to fuck you tonight. Take your first time together while you remain blissfully unaware, in the most pure state you could be in. That's when he likes you best. A soft, unconscious, unwitting participant in his declaration of love. And, if you by chance wake up as he's pulling your panties down, or as he leaks copious amounts of precum onto your pretty ass, or when he gently lifts your thigh up just a little, enough to allow room for his cock to slip between, or when he takes to gliding his red hot and needy cock between your slippery folds— holy fuck, that feels so fucking good, then he's certain that he can reel you back to his side by way of some stupid friendly act. A little pout here, an eager apology there.

Regardless of how you take it tonight, you're getting his cock. He's decided you deserve to know exactly what you do to him, anyway.

The second he comes into actual contact with your untouched by him cunt he halts his breathing. Slipping and sliding along your slit feels better than he could ever have imagined, all those lonely nights spent fisting himself silly over your sleeping face immediately feel wasted. You're telling him that he could've been rubbing his fat cock against your pretty little slit like this all this time, turning your tummy all sticky white rather than your cute kissable face? Shit, he feels doubly cheated now! Silently slithering an arm under your neck for stability, the other hand resting on your hip to lightly squeeze and pinch at to keep himself grounded enough to focus on how unfairly perfect your body feels against his. The feeling of your squishy thighs unknowingly squeezing at his length causing a satisfied sigh to escape him, heart full at the thought of your unaware and naive mind being eager to please him even in your sleep. Meant to be, right?

He'll show you what you've been missing out on. Why Whitney is the lesser of two evils. Why you should break up with your sick little play pretend boyfriend and start dating him instead, like he'd intended on from a very young age.

Because yeah, he's been wanting you ever since he can remember. Humping his fat cock up and down your slick pretty slit at the memories of growing up with you. How you've always be on his mind, number one in his heart. After all this time, he deserves a fucking slice too, dont'cha think?

But fuck if you don't feel better than anything he's ever experienced before, downright ruined his fist for future fucks, determined never to use anything other than your perfect angel cunt from now on. He always knew you'd feel amazing, fucking knew it deep down in his gut. But nothing could have prepared him for how nice it'd feel to simply slip between your folds, to knock his dribbling tip against your clit over n over again just to hear your pretty little sleepy mewls.

A small laugh escapes him at your meek moans, easily hidden between the sound of shaking sheets and your squelching cunt, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to try and determine whether you're more wet from his leaking cock, or because your lewd body just wants him as much as he needs you right now.

So, could you blame him from 'accidentally' slipping into your tight little hole as he thrusts against you? Tip caught on your entrance like a beg for more, all his prayers answered the second he feels your squirmy walls accept and envelope his drooling tip, and swiftly his full fat length when he can't stop his hips from driving forward.

Which must have woke you up, at least a little. A confused mumble falling from your pretty lips as his body stills behind you, cock remaining balls deep and throbbing, pulsing inside your warm little hole with sheer need to fuck you into his shape. Carve out your insides so that no one else but him will ever fit again, made perfect solely for him, yeah?

But, after waiting for what feels like for fucking ever, his whole body shaking under the amount of restraint it takes to not fuck you into next week, he doesn't hear another peep. Feeling your body once again relax in his greedy hold, lust driven mind convinced that you must be giving him consent to continue. Because if not, then what else?

Propping one leg up on his other for better leverage, he digs his greedy fingers into your plush skin. Really dragging his nails against you— not on purpose! God, you just— "Feel so fuckin' good, ah..." he whines to himself, pouting at the back of your head with an internal promise to fuck you better than Whitney ever has; or will, for that matter. Drawing his hips back so torturously slowly that he has to let out a low whine from how desperate he is, hopeless in how much he wants to prove himself to you, needs to fuck you the way you deserve so bad, and fuck when you moan in your sleep? All light and airy, a breathless promise that he's doing good, keep going, he can't do anything other than adhere to your wordless plea. Pushing his hips forward again with a little more speed, and then pulling back a bit faster, and then thrusting into you at a much more satisfying pace— one that already has the bed creaking under the weight of his love for you, cute little cunt hugging his cock so well— fucking bitch. Should have picked him, yeah? Maybe then he wouldn't be trying to mount your ass right now, throwing a possessive leg over your own to more easily hump himself stupid into your tight little hole, the way your walls suck him in further, sucking his tip off just so well, like you were fucking made for it—

And fuck if you don't fucking shut up he's liable to shove his slick coated cock down your noisy throat like you're clearly asking for. Cute muffled moans for him to drink up, his voice coming out breathless and whiny when he reprimands you with: "Havin' a nice dream?" God you must be, from the way your insides gush around his intrusion, bullying his tip as deep as he can to try and reach places Whitney has never touched before. Hoping to stain your insides with his scent to ward off anyone else from getting too close to you, nails dragging your ass back down to meet his every greedy thrust with a wet slap! of his balls against you. Mine, he thinks to himself. Fucking mine, no one else should even think of touching you, right? My pretty pet, my good girl, aren't you? He can feel tension building in his tummy with his thoughts, huffing and puffing above you like some kind of bitch in heat, determined to mark you up from the inside out. So that even if you do wander off again, you'll be so thoroughly dirtied by his cock that no one else will even want to touch you. Wouldn't that be nice? To have you come crying in his arms, upset that no one wants you; except he does. Maybe a little too much given how frantically he thrusts into you now, driven only by his selfish need to breed his pretty girl.

Tight fucking cunt, oh my God. So good for me, doesn't this feel good? Feel better than Whitney, right? Wanna fuck you every night like this, fuck, every morning too. Wanna keep my cock permanently inside your pretty angel cunt as a reminder of who you belong to, who fucking owns her, huh? This pretty fuckin' cunt, who owns her?

"R-Robin—?"

Oh shit, did he say that out loud and wake you? Fuck, he's cumming immediately upon hearing your sleepy voice, coated in shame and misunderstanding, muted by the pillow under your pretty face. He can't stand how cute and drowsy you sound while getting defiled, pounding his spurting cock into you with fat ropes shot directly against your cervix, some of it gushing out of your stuffed hole to stain your bed sheets. Sticky insides still squirming around him as he rides your ass out silently, as if remaining quiet will somehow hide his transgressions tonight. Except, they're not really transgressions, are they?

He's only taking back what was originally his. Making sure you know your place by his side by humping his load deep into your hole even after his orgasm dissipates. Small stutters of his hips, struggled gasps for air after holding it in for so long.

"Morning, love." He sputters, back to his regular chipper self for you, cringing at the way his cock grows sensitive inside of your wanting hole. How it continues to beg for more fucks, coaxing him into circling his hips while pushed all the way to the base inside. "Did you sleep well?"

[thelampisaflashlight]

Some Omega/Dew thoughts for this gloomy winter's night. Let's go.

-They have a love that's like the sea.

Waves may crash, but it is constant, and it swells in the rain and shines with the sun.

They weren't each other's first choice, and, perhaps, they probably wouldn't have gotten together if one or both of them had wound up with who they wanted to, but they wouldn't have been with the person they needed then.

Very much a relationship that took time and work to make as strong as it is now, but woe unto anyone who tries to break them apart.

-No one really anticipated these two getting together, in fact most people at the abbey don't even realize they're an item, because they aren't the PDA sort despite ghouls normally being quite handsy with each other.

However, there are times where they've been caught sharing a quiet moment together, nothing explicit, unless you consider hand holding to be extremely scandalous.

-Edible arrangements sort of couple as opposed to flowers... mostly because Dew WILL eat flowers if Omega gives them to him, which made for a very confusing Valentine's Day.

-Omega got Dew those bears that have magnets in their paws/noses on their first anniversary and Dew got so flustered he started laughing and Omega thought he was laughing at him, but when he tried to take the bears back, Dew grabbed them and was like, "No! I love them! They're so silly!"

The bears now live on their headboard, along with six other little stuffed creatures of varying cheesiness.

-Hands in the back pocket couple.

And lastly;

-The couple that comes to the dinner party and looks bored, but is actually trying to figure out if they can get an identical dining room set at Ikea, and if it would fit their current set up or not.

On the Ikea note; They have definitely window shop for house/apartment ideas... while piling stuffed animals into the cart for the abbey's daycare, Rain, and their secret, "If we have a kit some day, this fits the theme I wanna have for their nursery-" pile.

The theme is space, and Phantom may already have a rocket ship bed as a result of them getting one in the wrong size.

He loves it, and everyone else is, "So jealous!"

No, really, they are, that's not sarcasm.

Swiss has been seen mumbling about, "Why can't I get a free rocket ship bed?" and, "No, it's okay, I didn't want an astronaut cat plush, nooo-"

[lululandd]

rabid; (iv.)

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1,671

warnings: comedy, unhinged topics, ghost has feelings

note: this is the last one i promise, thanks for reading and sticking around :3

summary: “We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

part i. | part ii. | part iii.

“Ghost?” Soap nudged him.

The day was sickly humid, temperature rising by the minute as sweat beaded down his forehead. His mind was somewhere far away when Soap called him, “Yeah. Here.” He replied as he placed a gloved knuckle on his eye, getting rid of the sweat gathering on his lashes.

“We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Ghost sighed deeply at the situation they got themselves into. He looked around the makeshift interrogation room–if they can even call it that–as half of the wall was torn down and there was no roof above them. There could be a UAV coming to pinpoint their location any time now. Soap was right, they don’t have much time.

He stared at his men, all of them looking tired but otherwise alert. He checked his pockets for anything that can be used in an interrogation and took out two of his knives. Gaz and Soap picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly and they handed him pliers, a magnetic pickup tool, while Gromsko and Enzo handed him wire cutters and a swiss knife. To his surprise, Arthur produced a 45° double angle hook from the pocket near where Merlin dangled on his backside.

The man held onto the hook for a moment longer than necessary as Ghost took the item from him, subtly indicating he wanted the item back.

The unnamed Cordis Die member kneeling in front of them stayed silent as Ghost stood in front of him. The others had stayed a little bit away, either keeping watch or just giving them some space. He looked young, late twenties at most, Ghost couldn’t tell very well with all the muck and grime. He crouched down in front of the bound man, asking him in the nicest voice he could muster. When he refused to answer at all, Ghost weighed the items in his hands with vexation as he knows these aren’t the correct tools to make this man talk. His expression didn’t even change when he eyed them in his hands.

He would need to think of something else, and fast.

—

Simon had to hold in his laughter as he loaded his dishwasher, as you and your online friends were onto something wicked which had you laughing and giggling the whole time ever since you started. He heard something about a little celebration but he didn’t quite catch what it was for, but he knows you’re celebrating with a couple drinks.

As he got ready to wind down for the night and crawl into bed for another possibly sleepless night, he perked his ears up to listen in harder on your conversations as you’re getting quieter to probably not disturb him, your only neighbour. It’s cute that you think of him after the soap incident, lowering your voice if you’re going online later in the night. He sort of wishes you didn’t, because of the things he’s gonna miss. Just like tonight’s.

Oh how he would love to hear all the sides of the conversation.

“No, I don’t know what a sheep’s dick looks like. Why would I know what they look like?” A pause. “Nah, I was raised in the city.”

Another info he jolts down in his mind. “Okay. is it more fucked up looking than echidnas?” Simon realised he had no idea what an echidna looks like. He knows what Knuckles—Sonic’s friend—looks like, but not the actual animal. So he googled.

“Man, I really don’t wanna click that link.” He heard you say. He thinks echidnas are cute. They're like pet hedgehogs but with longer snouts and large mole-like paws. He was lost in his thoughts as he scrolled before hearing you squeal out, “No!! What is that! Why does it look…Like that..?” Imagining you wildly gesture at your monitor brought a smile to his face.

Self-restraint was second nature to him at this point, but bloody hell if it didn’t take all of his power to not google what sheep genitalia actually looks like, especially when you continued, “Are you sure you didn't just come across one that’s brok– Oh yeah I see them now. Holyshit they’re all look so fucking mangled.”

Swearing under his breath, Simon typed the words he didn’t want to type onto his search engine. Regret with a capital R hits him and he was too late to hold his voice in and lets out a disgusted noise that was louder than intended.

His notification bar popped up on his phone from you.

SORRY HAHA i was trying to be quieter DID YOU GOOGLE THEM

i did. guess im not sleepin tonight

thats what you get for listening in heheh >:3  maybe you can traumatise your friends with this newfound knowledge?

:)

—

Groaning, he racked his brain on how to word what he was going to say in the most atrocious, horrific, macabre way possible but also came off nonchalant.

He mulled over the thought and dug in the deepest crevice of his vest to produce his phone. Soap fidgeted in his peripherals.

“LT, what tae fuck.”

He heard the tied-up man snort.

Oh. He thinks the Lieutenant in the skull mask is an idiot for bringing his phone to the battlefield. This is a start.

“It’s all right, Sergeant. This is important.”

He powered his phone on, typing his password the moment the screen lit up. The battery showed 62%. It should be more than enough. The sim card was taken out and he had one of the IT staff tinker with it when it was brand new. Opening the gallery and scrolling a little bit, he found the picture he was looking for.

He puts the brightness up to max before talking to the man. “So. Do you know what a sheep’s dick looks like?” Not waiting for an answer, he showed him the picture on his phone. It doesn't look like anything but shredded meat. “Yours will look like this if you don’t tell us what we want.”

Flinching a little, the man tried so hard not to react but Ghost can see him breathing harder.

“I don’t have a picture for the second option, but you’ve heard of anal prolapse, right? It’s when the last bit of your large intestine drops out of your arse. Nasty thing. You can’t control your bowel movement, there’s blood and mucus comin’ out, all that shit.” He handed the tools he was holding over to Arthur, the closest one standing to him. “But did you know there’s a urethra prolapse? I can’t describe it very well because of all the blood but it looks like a lil’ purple doughnut on the tip of your dick. Magenta If I can be fancy with my words.”

Arthur tensed next to him, making the dog let out a distressed whine.

“There will be three choices for you today. One. You tell us the info we need. Two, I mangle your mediocre cock so bad you wish I’d cut it off, or three, I make two doughnuts. Back and front.” He pointed downwards, vaguely to where his crotch is.

“Ghost that's against the Geneva Convention.” Soap spoke up.

The man comically nods.

“Nah. If I start using him as a meat shield out there, then it's against humanitarian laws.” came his cold and calculated answer. “Does he look like he’s surrendered? He’s not even hors de combat. If we do this to him after he gives us good intel, then we'll get tried at the Hague. No. This guy fell into a paper shredder dick first you see. Pure accident.”

Gaz cleared his throat uneasily, realising what could have happened with the raccoons they collected a couple months back. “Ghost…”

He stood up, asking for the tools he handed over earlier. Tilting his head towards the man, he commanded, “Soap, take his pants off.” 

It was silent for what seemed like an eternity with no one daring to move before the unfortunate Cordis Die member gritted out the information they needed with what looked like hot tears in his eyes. Soap relayed the info to Laswell while they moved to a more secure place, preferably with a roof and all four walls intact.

Arthur spoke up for the first time as they checked their weapons and placed all their tools back in their respective pockets. He walked closer to the man, “Y’ Should learn about humanitarian laws, does a lot of good in these situations.”

“Oh come oan Arthur, why tae fuck are you teachin’ him tings?”

His face was completely hidden under his golden metallic mask but everyone could tell he’s frowning, “He’s young, maybe if more people taught him he would have known better than to join Cordis Die.”

Laswell had estimated their extraction would not be for another three hours so they all had a little time for themselves. Arthur had let Merlin out of what Soap called “the arse papoose” and the rest of the men had joined in giving the dog pats and bellyrubs. Merlin had been relieved off of work, and Ghost would be lying if he didn’t eye the pup with envy.

Soap approached him with the widest grin he has ever sported on his face while holding onto the top part of his vest and Ghost wishes he could disappear into thin air right now. He has seen the same gesture and expression coming from Price, so he knows he’s gonna get made.

“So… Urethras eh?”

“What, Johnny?” He glared at the Scot with all the leftover anger he could muster, which is barely any since their mission went well and he didn’t have to use excess force on another soldier.

His Sergeant didn’t even regard him seriously and continued, grin wider than ever. Man was practically beaming. “Was the raccoon their idea too, then?”

Soap couldn't see Ghost’s face, but he has been around Simon long enough—been in many dire situations together enough—to know just by looking at his eyes that the stupid Brit is smiling brightly.

[whereisliki]

Saw people getting build a bear versions of Buck and since we don't have that here where I live, I decided to make my own. I have sewn in magnets into their paws so they can hold hands.

[sol-consort]

Wait until the other species find out that the only thing preventing Earth from being pummeled to death by the asteroid belt is the gravitational pull and orbit of Jupiter holding the belt and other space rocks back. (Sometimes Jupiter lets one slip tho and flings it right at us or the other inner planets. The dinosaurs got the last rock that Jupiter threw at Earth.)

that's just Jupi being in a silly goofy mood <3 such a diva sometimes i swear

I know there is this trope of "Earth is actually a deathworld" in the human space orcs prompts, but Earth is genuinely the closest to a heaven you can get naturally from a planet.

The other species would envy the humans for getting such a starting advantage. Turians had to adapt to a radioactive planet after their ozone layer fizzled out, quarians became the disease carriers in their world for the lack of bugs to spread pollen around which completely shattered any resemblance of immune system they could've had.

Compare it to our Earth that's impossibly diverse, the rich evolution history it gave humans. It's not normal for an animal to have such a varied diet as us! So many of the stuff we are able to eat would kill them. Our bodies have biological clocks that sync with the day and night cycle. Our hands have fully articulated 5 fingers, and one of them is a thumb! Having a thumb is so vital to creating/using tools that it's a miracle species without it even managed to get through the stone age. So many of the aliens have fewer fingers, paws, or claws.

Our hands are insanely complex, not even counting the unique per-person fingerprints. Each finger has 4 joints, totalling 20 joints per hand. Allowing us extremely precise movements and the perfect limb to grab any shape whatsoever with. We wouldn't have had any of that wasn't it for the long line of ancestry we hold, we would've probably ended up as another aquatic species wasn't it for Earth developing the ozone layer and allowing us to go on land + plants and actually liveable wide areas of land.

So back to earth—Not only is the ozone layer and the Earth magnetic field constantly protecting us, but so is the moon! So is Jupiter! So are the remaining planets in the outer rings that filter out all the large asteroids. Jupiter flinging one asteroid at us once a couple millennias is so much more preferable to the shower of asteroids we would've been heralded in every single day.

Or how convenient Mars' existence is to us. So close by, mineral rich and ready to be explored, the perfect test planet to attempt to integrate into. A clear set goal for the future. How humans in Mass Effect got handed all the advanced space travel technology from the remains of Prothean bases there, ones previously used to observe us. Did the other species get the same? Asari, sure, yeah, but salarians and turians had to actually work to master space travel.

9 planets and 181 moons. Our solar system is even located at the outer edge of the Milky Way, where it's nice and less crowded. We're literally living in the suburban housing equivalent of planetary systems.

Earth is genuinely a haven, the perfect cradle to nurture sustainable life. All the other species have problems and mutations caused by their less than ideal planet environments, which they had to overcome with science—even the asari, don't forget the glaring problem of how reproducing with each other can results in Ardat Yakshi— Meanwhile, humans can be suited up and ready to go.

Our faulty expiring spines and only two sets of teeth pale in comparison to salarian bodies needing extreme support for each joint, drell breathing diseases, and hanar inability to carry their own bodyweight. Humans' bodies are very adapt, even in space, your brain starts adjusting the blood flow and regulating it's own pressure.

We might not have 4 eyes or other advantages like the protheans, but we definitely can get a passing grade in space survival with little to no modifications, only regular exercise.

That's why the theory of "unique earth" is so popular. Even when we do find an earth-like planet, it's rarely in a suitable star system. It's bare and defenceless with nothing to protect it. It's only a matter of time before it's flattened by asteroids or melted by radiation.

The sharks on earth are older than the forming of the literal north star. If that's not proof enough of Earth being perfect for propagating and maintaining life, then I don't know what is.

[pinkieclown]

Coricopat and Tantomile for my plushie non rep! i dont know why it took me so damn long to post these guys they’ve just been sitting in my photos for ages

anyhoo these two are meant to be plushies with magnets in their paws, which makes it so theyre always holding hands! (idk if this is an actual thing that exists but its cute) they would be intended to be owned by a pair of best friends, so theyve got friendship necklaces - sized for a human, so its huge on them :3

in this version, right before sillabub sings her part in moments of happiness the twins sort of sandwich her hand between their magnets <3 i like to think they would probably be genderblind casted so either could be played by any gender!

also cori is supposed to have bigger eyes and tanto is supposed to have bigger ears but idk if that is actually conveyed lhjfhj

[ultravioletwrites]

There’s something of a stray problem at Steve and Robin’s first place together. It’s fitting, perhaps, that as soon as they move out of Hawkins, away from the kids for the first time, that the universe decides they need a new Party--albeit a furry, four-legged one.

Steve’s gearing up to go home after work when he gets a call from Robin.

“Hey what’s--”

“Steve!” He pulls the phone away from his ears, because jeez Louise, warn a guy would you? “Are you on your way back?”

“Literally pulling out of the parking lot, as we speak,” he drawls.

There’s some shuffling on the other end of line. “And I’m literally herding cats, like the whole horde, and maintenance just showed up,” she hisses.

Shit. He peels out of the community center lot. “Hold them off as long as you can, I’ll be right there.”

It’d started innocently enough, a mangy orange tabby lingering at the doorstep during their first month in their townhouse. They hadn’t even fed the damn thing--Steve was firm on that, despite the pleading look in Robin’s eye--but he made himself at home on their porch nonetheless. He was relentless little thing, yowling and weaving between the legs of anyone who dared enter the house. Robin christened him O’Malley and Steve begrudgingly accepted the little fur ball as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Naming him was a mistake. It was like Robin had sent out a bat signal (cat signal?) to all the feline vagabonds in the area. There was a rotating line up of about six cats total. They sprawled belly up on the porch, roamed in the backyard, or kept watch from the trees.

Steve pulls into an empty spot along the street and watches, both horrified and transfixed, at the spectacle unfolding on his front lawn.

There’s a van in the driveway--Munson Electric--and all six strays have latched onto the maintenance man. He’s whirling around in circles on the grass, cursing up a storm, to no avail. They’re climbing up his navy coveralls, using his legs as a makeshift cat tree. The twins--two scruffy Siamese kittens, are attempting to burrow in his mass of dark, curly hair. The elastic securing the tech’s hair stands no chance and Steve winces when Thelma, the more mischievous twin, pries it free with her claw. O’Malley’s wrapped around the man’s shoulders like an airport neck pillow.

Robin’s trying to entice the kitties with lunch meat--which hey, Steve needs that for his lunches. She shoots Steve a desperate look as he rushes toward them. “Finally! I don’t know what their fucking problem is!” Robin grabs Louise, the other twin, by the scruff only to be met with a menacing hiss as she clings tighter.

Steve manages to pry Cheese, the smallest of them all, off the guy’s bicep. “Someone’s a real pussy magnet, huh?” he says under his breath.

Steve’s met with a withering glare. “Is now really the time?”

Which, yeah it’s definitely not and the guy’s looking vaguely murderous, but he’s also certifiably gorgeous up close. The pinched look on his face does nothing to distract from warm, brown eyes and pouting lips. Steve schools his expression into something more neutral, or tries to. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Why can’t you and your girlfriend be normal and have, like, a million kids or something?” he huffs.

Robin scoffs. “We’re not--”

“She’s not--”

“Can someone,” he shrieks, as Thelma bats a paw at his ear, “just please get them off me?”

It takes a lot a maneuvering and distracting--Robin snatches some gardening gloves from the garage because, damn, claws--but they finally fend off the cats long enough to usher the maintenance guy inside.

He slumps against the wall, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Jesus.”

Steve was already a little rank after work--coaching a youth community basketball team will do that to you--but he's damp with a fresh layer of sweat. “‘M showering real quick, I can, uh, grab you a beer for your troubles?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” the guy wheezes. “Maybe two, fuck.”

The breathy way he chokes out the last word is taking Steve’s brain to all sorts of inappropriate trains of thought, so he nods and flees to his bathroom.

His hair’s still a little damp when he comes downstairs to the kitchen twenty minutes later and, oh. Robin and the maintenance guy look thick as thieves, chumming it up and laughing at something on her phone. And it’s captivating, the sound of his laugh. The broad grin on his face makes something twinge in Steve’s gut.

They both turn to look at Steve and both pairs of eyes have him fumbling for something, anything to say. “All good?” Better than nothing, Steve supposes.

“Eddie’s got it all fixed,” Robin says with a smarmy smile.

“G-great. That’s great, Eddie!” Steve stammers.

Eddie--knowing his name now makes it exponentially worse, likes the way it rolls of his tongue a little too much--straightens up and pins Steve with narrowed eyes and a charming uptick of his lips. “Got some wires crossed, Stevie.”

A blush creeps up the back of his neck. “What?”

Eddie reaches to readjust the sloppy bun atop his head. Don’t look at his arms, don’t look, okay well now you’re looking. Ogling more like. “You’ve got some wires crossed, behind the breaker panel, Steve. I sorted them out for y’all.”

“Right, yes. Thank you, Eddie.” Time to shoo him out the house before Steve burst into flames.

Robin putzes around the kitchen while Eddie packs his things, no doubt wanting to eavesdrop, and Steve remains frozen.

“Have a good one!” Eddie calls on his way out. He slows down next to Steve, lips alarming close to his ear. “Can’t drink on the job, you’ll just have to buy me one this weekend.”

Steve watches him hightail it to the van, narrowly missing another cat ambush. Robin presses into his side. Steve whips around. “What the hell did you say to him, Buckley?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she quips, before tucking something into Steve’s pocket. “I got you his business card. With his personal phone number.”

[bigwishes]

Hey man I got a wish, but not for me. My best friend is pretty small and nerdy and gets picked on by the powerlifters for it. They always say he's so small and boyish it makes me mad! I wish that he'd be able to take their strength and manliness and become the massive hairy athlete they wished they could be! But could you make him not realize it until those jocks are all drained? I want them to realize though to show them actions have consequences.

Sure we could go and do that for your friend. As far as I can tell there are 3 major bullies were dealing with here, there are a couple more but 3 main guys we can use to set an example. So why don't we get started with seeing your mate at the gym. I see your mate is a real twunk, not skinny enough to be a twink, not enough much to be a hunk, well that's all about to change. He hasn't even started lifting yet and already Trev is walking over to say hello, well you know what I mean by hello.

"Oi what up itty biddy?" Trev laughed placing his big meaty paw of a hand on your mate's shoulder

Instantly something was wrong as Trev tried to pull his hand away but couldn't.

"Alright Trev, fuck off let go" "I, I'm tryin tiny, I can't" The muscles in Trev's whole arm began to pulse and shake as veins enraged and enlarged looking like thick ropes. The movement of the muscles looked like a pumping motion headed towards his hand. Trev's body began to shrink and with each passing second he was looking less like a "big Trev" and more like some middle ages accountant. At the same time your buddy's body began to enlarge as the muscles all over his body began to inflate, but not all of the muscle from Trev flooded into your friend, some seemed to be lost in the transfer. Trev was finally able to let go, he was left standing there holding onto his clothes so they don't fall down on his tiny hairy body.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME" Trev screamed "I dunno Trev could you piss off so I can work out please"

Trev scrambled away like a rat and left your friend to his weights.

There we go, your buddy is looking much larger now, massive and strong. To the average bloke this would be a fantastic body but we aren't done just yet.

Next up we got Teddy, a guy just as big as Trev is...or rather was anyway, can't wait to see what happens to your buddy next.

"Surely that can't be you itty biddy? Its only been a week since I last saw you" "Stop calling me that shit teddy, Im tryin to work on myself, get bigger" "Well it looks like you already got bigger mate, what you on?" "Fuck off Teddy. I'm gonna get big the natural way"

Well, your friend is gonna get big in a (super)natural way. Teddy walked off to lift his own weights but he could still be seen in the corner of the gym, just in eye sight of your mate. Teddy struggled to lift his warm up weights, he was sweating bullets after just 2 reps and with every rep his body got smaller and smaller whilst you mate got bigger and bigger.

Your friend is looking ultra swole now, You can see his body begin to get tight and struggle to move with the moment he used to have, but your buddy has no idea what is going on. Lastly we have Greg, over by racks about to do the best deadlift of his life. His enormous muscled frame bent down, grabbed the bar and threw it above his head as light as a feather. As the bar passed over his body in swiped away all the strong muscle leaving skin and bones, like some magical form of a real life magnetic sketch pad eraser had been used on Gregs muscles leaving a blank slate. By the time the bar reached the top he had transformed into an inflatable strongman's toy a kid would buy at the fair.

Your friend finally saw what had happened to him in the mirror of the gyms, he smiled feeling his biceps, his pecs, he was slightly bigger than his perfect size but no one would make fun of him in the gym again, and then along came Greg's muscles.

Your buddy felt his body become tight, his skin groaned as it and the muscles beneath it expanded. He ripped off his shirt or rather obliterated it to free himself from the constricting pressure. He watched as his new defined six pack started to bubble and swell outwards into a huge roided gut. His shoulders traps and pecs began to swell up around his neck and his lost more mobility of his body with each passing second.

His enormous body continued to swell each second forcing him to get bigger and bigger. Sweat began to run down from his pits and down his sides, sweat from his neck and chest ran down his pecs and around his massive roided bloat. He groaned feeling his roid gut become tighter as more and more muscle was packed on. The three bullies began to lose all their body hair as it sprouted over your mates body. his pits were full of hair and musk and a grand stink stuck to him like glue. A puddle of sweat had formed under his ridiculous frame.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME" you mate yelled before he had a chance to assess his body that consisted of the muscle of 3 seasoned powerlifters along with all the muscle the 3 of them still would have earned in a few years, people began to notice him, some even began to giggle and laugh at how his muscled ass had began to split his gym shorts.

Your friend began to move as fast as he could, waddling out of the gym leaving a river of sweat behind him.

---

Well there you have it mate, no one is gonna laugh at him for being small ever again, but he's probably got a few new worries other than being embarrassed at the gym. You are such a great friend wishing to give your friend a perfectly massive body like this, maybe I should reward you and make you twice as big for being so generous... Who would complain having their muscles blown up like that, I know I wouldn't.

[captainnameless]

grumpy Maxie thoughts? i’d love me some Daddy + Maxie <3

The disgruntled pout Max has got going on after media isn’t exactly new, Max not being their greatest fan is old news.

And like always, Daniel feels some sort of magnetic pull to the younger, ready to turn that frown upside down.

He slides an arm around Max’s waist, squeezing right above the scrunch of the race suit around his waist.

“Y’ello!”

Max’s eyes meet Daniel’s for a split second, pout still out and proud, leaning into Daniel’s touch while they continue walking.

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asks, moving his arm up to Max’s shoulders, realizing Max is shivering, fireproofs still damp from the champagne.

“Just cold.” Max grumbles, not meeting Daniel’s eyes again.

“Do they not have a jacket for you?” Daniel frowns, pawing at his own windbreaker for a second, ready to give it to Max in a heartbeat but he knows the sponsors will have something to say about that, and he doesn’t want to get either of them in trouble.

Max shrugs, Daniel’s arm dropping in the process.

“Max-”

“I’ll be fine.” Max grumbles again, quickening his step to walk out in front of Daniel.

- -

Later, Daniel senses Max’s presence again when he’s finishing up at Alpha Tauri, inconspicuously waving him over by holding out an open hand down by his hip.

Max makes his way over begrudgingly, brushing his hand past Daniel’s momentarily before joining him, a quick nod to the two team members Daniel’s chatting with.

He’s got a jacket on now, but the champagne smell is still there, so no shower yet. And Max still seems cold.

“You still feeling cold?” Daniel asks, when they’re walking to car.

“Yea.” Max simply states, shooting Daniel a glare like he’s the one responsible for it.

Despite Max’s mood, Daniel still offers him his hand while he drivers, and Max still snatches it up like most times, playing with Daniel’s fingers.

Inconveniently, Max falls asleep in the 20 minute drive to the hotel and while Daniel revels in the adorable little face he’s got on, he knows getting Max to the room will be even harder now.

“Max,” Daniel hums, brushing his hand through Max’s hair. “Wakey.”

There’s a stir, and Max’s relaxed little face contorts into a frown, lips jutting out in a pout again, eyes remaining closed.

“Muffin,” Daniel breathes, brushing through again. “It’s cold in the car too, we can go inside where it’s nice and cozy.”

“Go ‘way.” Max mumbles so sleepily it’s adorable despite the statement.

Daniel sighs softly, getting out of the car and moving round to the passenger side, swinging the door opening and unlocking Max’s seatbelt for him.

“Come on, bub.” Daniel hums, reaching in to take Max’s arm gently.

“Noo,” Max whines, but allows himself to be pulled anyway, eyes blinking open.

“We go quickly,” Daniel soothes, pulling Max out of the car before Max’s mood sours too much, making quick work of getting them to and into their hotel room.

A shower tantrum is prevented by the promise of a hot chocolate before bed, and when Max gets out of the shower they’ve already been brought in by room service.

Max sort of flops against Daniel, smelling of hotel shampoo. Max presumably too tired to dig through his own toiletries.

He’s in one of Daniel’s enchante sweatshirt, his new collection. They’re thick and heavy, perfect to warm up in.

“Hi, baby.” Daniel breathes into Max’s damp hair, pressing down a kiss. “Warm?”

“Hmm.” Max hums, nuzzling his face into Daniel’s chest, eyes already fluttering close.

Daniel feels sort of guilty for having mentioned the hot chocolates now, knowing full well Max is not going to let himself fall asleep without consuming them, even if he’s two seconds away from falling asleep.

Daniel shuffles them to the bed, pulling the covers back and gently laying Max into the big white fluffy pillows. He’s met with a soft whine and some grabby hands that Daniel manages by placing Leo in them. “Daddy’s grabbing your chocolate, muffin.” He soothes, quickly going through his luggage to look for a specific item.

It’s rare Max drops enough to want to use it, occasions countable one hand, but Daniel feels tonight might be one of those night. He only has to dig a little bit to find the bottle, and only makes a tiny mess transferring the chocolate from the mug into the plastic bottle.

When he gets back to Max, the younger is fighting to keep his eyes open, but the determination is still present on his face. Daniel cannot stop his smile.

“Here you go, bubba.” Daniel hums, passing Max the bottle who, like Daniel suspected, takes it without a second thought, finding the nipple while his eyes slip close.

Daniel wastes little time getting into bed himself, moving so he can rest Max against his chest, supporting him where needed and gently tracing his fingers along his forehead.

Max is out in minutes, but determinedly finished over half of his drink. Daniel gently takes it from him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before scooting down a bit, getting comfortable, keeping Max close and closing his own eyes.