#this is an actual reality disguised as a joke

[yeticantfeelyou]

OKAY IM SORRY OH WOW IT'S ALL FINE AND DANDY TO BE A COKE GIRLIE AND OMG SNOOWW 🙄🙄🙄 but as soon as that shit is sizzling and I'm blowing a fat cloud out IM THE FUCKED UP ONE??? MAN FUCK YALL

[maliciouslove]

𝕍𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

NSFW, dark content, aged up characters (21+)

ʚ pairing ɞ scumbag villain!izuku midoriya x morally corrupt hero!reader

ʚ word count ɞ 2.7k

ʚ summary ɞ izuku grew up with all power taken from him, so he became the type of person that enjoys making others feel powerless. nothing feeds his ego more than a cute girl crumbling under his touch and feeling powerless to stop him from sliding his hands all over her body in the packed train. until he meets you—a peculiar, equally fucked in the head girl that actually enjoyed the things he was doing to her. enjoyed the thrill of almost being caught. enjoyed having power taken from her. a debauched, morally corrupt hero in disguise.

ʚ tags ɞ frotteurism (fetish for groping people in crowded places), tw dubcon, tw noncon, tw sexual assault, tw sexual harassment, tw exhibitionism, tw power imbalance, pussy job, public sex, creampie, cw degradation, use of “whore” once

Just like any other child, Izuku Midoriya grew up wanting to be a hero, however, despite his aspirations, the boy never manifested a quirk. Still, he never gave up and never lost hope—that is, until he failed the UA entrance exam and was brutally made fun of by everyone else.

“Look at this loser, thinking he could pass the exam without an actual quirk, what a joke.”

“Jokes are funny, this guy is absolutely pathetic. Go home kid, become a policeman or fireman instead, leave the hero work for those with quirks.”

“Maybe if you take a swan dive off a roof, you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life.”

Some heroes they were going to be.

And that was when his mind started getting corrupt. Izuku went down a different, darker path than the one he had envisioned as a child. He mixed with the wrong people and little by little he shed off his hero dream, discarding it alongside his morals, being perfectly content being a scumbag villain instead.

All power was stripped away from him once the world learned he was quirkless, so he sought ways to make others feel even more powerless than he did. Nothing stroked his ego more than making cute girls squirm and crumble under his touch in paralyzing fear, as his hands wandered over their bodies on a packed train. He enjoyed the way their eyes would shut tightly as if to avoid confronting the reality of their own powerlessness in the situation. The way their bodies stiffened the moment he leaned in closer to take a whiff of their perfume.

Why aren’t you saying anything, pretty girl? You have a quirk, don’t you? That already makes you more qualified than me to be a hero. So why are you letting me touch you? Why are you keeping your eyes shut? Why are you giving me so much power?    

Every little squirm, every hitch of their breath, every shake of their hands, and the way they would hope somebody would notice—it made Izuku feel powerful.

Do you know why you’re weaker than even me, sweetheart? Because you’re waiting for someone else to save you, you’re waiting for a hero.

 That’s how his days went by—hop on the train, find the weakest target, the insecure girls, the quiet ones, the ones whose eyes still sparkled with hope that a big strong hero will always be there to protect them. Once he found his victim, he moved in, ready to prove them wrong—show them how little heroes actually care. Towering over them, he would stare down their cleavage, letting his imagination run wild as his hands slide up the side of their hip. An accidental grind against their ass, a swift trace of his index finger down the inside of their thigh. His ministrations would make his targets shrink even further, the thrill of being found out feeding his power hunger further and making his cock painfully hard in the confinement of his slacks.

It became routine until he was able to pick out the perfect targets with a single glance, until he was able to predict what each girl would do and how everything would play out. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to find someone equally as debauched as him one day.

With your car being in the repair shop for the next week, you had started using public transport to get to work. That of course meant having to travel during peak hours, more often than not finding yourself pressed against strangers, sometimes absolute creeps, and yet some very dark and hidden part of you enjoyed that, the unwanted attention making you buzz with excitement.

And today was no different—you found yourself pushed in the very corner of the train car facing away from the other passengers. A large green-haired man stood right behind you, muscular arm holding onto the ceiling rail as his entire body loomed over your much smaller one.

The train was fully packed and everyone was minding their business— some sleeping, some listening to music, and others glued to their phones. Yet, the man behind you seemed to focus all his attention on you. You could feel his gaze travel down your nape, studying the curvature of your spine, eyes moving downwards to your ass and legs. It felt like prickles on your skin, like an invisible hand stripping you of all your clothes and the thought made you rub your thighs together.

The lack of space forced you both to stand very close to each other, the motions of the train pushing you into his chest every so often. You could tell he was using every opportunity to smell your hair, craning his neck downwards to also look down your shirt. You wonder if he could see what color your bra was, if he could see the lace poking out from under the collar of your shirt.

The train changed tracks again and you found yourself pressed against his chest once more. This time his large hand found purchase on your hip, thumb gently stroking the bit of skin that was showing above the hem of your skirt. In the reflection of the window, you see his green eyes staring into yours, full of lust and hunger. His aura threatening to consume you entirely and for a second, your body filling with fear, a heavy feeling settling in your chest.

You look away, quickly.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and you fear he can hear it, taste the blood that’s currently coursing through your veins.

The train shifts and you can feel his hard cock pressed against your ass, his fingers on your hip tightening their grip. Your body feels paralyzed under his touch.

But not by fear.

Excitement.

You let your body be swayed by the motion of the train, making sure to circle your ass back onto his cock, licking your lips and buzzing with pleasure when your skirt hitches on his bulge, lifting and revealing part of your panties. You take a swift look around to see if anyone is looking your way, but as usual, everyone is consumed in their own thoughts, too absorbed by their own miserable existence to notice anything else.

You’re dragged out of your momentary haze by his breath on your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing there, sweetheart, has your mommy not taught you any better?”

His voice is deep, feigning concern for you while his eyes ooze vile lust and need for control. His presence devours you, it feels like sludge covering you from head to toe, sliding down your throat and filling your lungs with dread, making you unable to talk, unable to even look him in the eye.

His hands move down your hips, hiking your skirt up even further, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. Your clit is throbbing with anticipation so perfectly masked as fear. For Izuku, your heightened pulse meant paralyzing fear, but only you knew the truth about how this made your blood boil in excitement. How much you wanted him to slide his hands between your legs, to fucking take you right then and there, amidst the people that could see the pleasure blooming on your face any second now.

You faintly hear the unzipping of his slacks and feel the warmth of his cock on your bare skin—it’s thick and heavy against your ass cheek, smearing pre on your skin and panties. You’re feeling dizzy, body going limp in his strong arms as his hand sneaks around your waist and cups your pussy under the frills of your skirt.

For a brief moment, his movements pause as his mind processes what he’s feeling—you’re soaking wet, panties completely drenched, arousal practically dripping down your thighs. He was used to women’s bodies reluctantly reacting to him, but this was rather different. His eyes dart forward, inspecting your features more closely now—your heart was erratic, but not because of crippling fear. He leans in, noticing how blown your pupils are, consuming all the color in your eyes. Lips parted and chest heaving, he finally finds the piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing, the explanation behind the odd feeling of being unable to predict what his prey will do next—your eyes had the same fragmented madness behind them.

You were just as sick as he was.

Without a second of hesitation, the hand that’s cupping your sex moves your panties to the side, thick and calloused fingers running through your wet folds, spreading your arousal and circling around your clit with tender motions.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it—your skin is on fire and your insides are melting under this stranger's touch. You close your eyes in an attempt to compose yourself while the hand on your hip travels up your sides to squeeze your breast, teasing your nipples over the fabric. The green-haired man’s breath is almost as erratic as yours, his hard and leaking cock evidence of how turned on he was by your compliance, by the fact you were actually enjoying being used like this in public.

His cock now rubs between your thighs, his hot skin meeting your sticky one, and your insides beginning to knot just by the thought. You’re letting a complete stranger get off on you. You secretly hope that someone else on the train has noticed and is maybe even enjoying the show.

Your insides are aching for relief so you push yourself against his cock, the mushroom tip spreading and gliding between your folds, clit rubbing against the veins on his shaft.

Holding yourself with one hand by the ceiling rail and slightly lifting yourself onto your tiptoes, feeling the tip of his cock pushing against your entrance. Biting your lip you sink back onto his cock, taking two inches past your entrance, grazing your soft walls. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you experience every sensation trifold, makes you want to shamelessly grind against him and moan in ecstasy, but you are in public, therefore you compose yourself and relish in the slow feeling of being filled up by this man.

Izuku’s hand grips your waist harder, fucking himself into your tight, greedy cunt, feeling himself being sucked in by your plush walls. You are practically dripping onto his cock, the natural lubrication allowing him to smoothly fully sheathe himself inside you, putting his other hand over your mouth to prevent to moan that was about to escape your lips.

He holds you there, flush against him, the tip of his cock pressing against the deepest, most delicious spot inside you, subtle hip movements rocking you back and forth, the slow motion allowing him to massage that sweet spot he currently finds himself pressed against.

His eyes briefly scan the train cart, confirming that every passenger is still oblivious to what’s going on, continuing to push you off his thick cock, only to slide back in, softly, as though not to make a sound.

He’s big in every sense. His large frame hiding you from any onlookers, big hands easily maneuvering you onto his fat cock, splitting you open and pushing through the resistance of your tight hole. Your body jolts as he stretches you out almost painfully, but every time he thrusts inside you, you see stars in your vision from how deep he was.

You feel snug and warm around Izuku’s cock and he could stay buried inside you forever. He’s never met anyone this fucked up who would let him use them for his own pleasure. In a fully packed train nonetheless. You were sick and twisted just like Izuku, making him relish in the feeling, sensing that you’re not going to cause a scene and opting to let go of your waist in favor of sliding his hand down the front of your pelvis and playing with your puffy clit.

The moment he started drawing soft circles around your sensitive nub he felt your knees give in and your insides clench. God, you were going to come undone for him.

He watches your eyebrows pinch together as you bite your lip, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts. You look so pretty, trying to keep your pleasure hidden, but shamelessly moving your hips to match his own.

For the first time during this train ride, you look into his eyes and maintain eye contact instead of shyly breaking it off. There is pure sin set ablaze in your eyes, a lustful need, a burning desire that he feels he needs to quench. Just your eyes alone could make Izuku cum on the spot, seductive and debauched, deprived and full of the same madness as his own.

Your eyes beg him, so he obeys.

With one final, rather harsh thrust Izuku buries himself to the hilt, emptying his load deep inside your gummy walls, spurting thick white ropes of cum while nuzzling his face in your neck—committing your scent to memory.

The train slows down as it approaches the next stop and the strange man gently pulls out. Your hands quickly fix your panties and skirt, hiding any evidence of his ministrations. His load slowly trickles down, soiling your panties, and yet the feeling brings you nothing but joy, as if you were currently on cloud nine.

The train comes to a halt, an alarm signaling the opening of the doors blares out.

The mass of people began leaving the train, the tall green-haired man seamlessly blending into the crowd and disappearing.

Avoiding eye contact and swiftly walking past clusters of people, Izuku was assured he was out of danger, turning around the corne—

“Where do you think you’re going, handsome?” You cut off his path and look into his eyes, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes plastered on your lips. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

“Aw, I don’t think anyone’s ever come for seconds before.” Izuku places his hands in his pockets, giving you a smug smile and shamelessly tracing every curve of your body with his eyes, imagining what you look like without all those pesky clothes on.

“Aw, you know, you’re kinda cute, Izuku Midoriya,” The green-haired man's smile faltered. From the inside pocket of your jacket you pull out a card that he immediately recognizes. A card he was destined to never ever obtain. “Too bad I’m gonna have to arrest you.”

Before his mind could assimilate, you had easily pushed him against the wall with his hands behind his back, placing handcuffs on his wrists.

“Y-You can’t arrest me, you whore, you literally let me fuck you, what kind of hero are you?” He spits out in shock, words laced with venom, growling in attempting to shake you off, even though panic rises in his throat like bile. “You’re no fucking hero, you’re just like me.”

“Mm, I  probably am… but see, I have a quirk so I can get away with being a morally corrupt hero.” The words spoken in a sickly sweet voice rang in his ears, deafening, despite being whispered, meant only for his ears to hear.

Izuku opens his mouth to argue, to threaten to expose you, but you shush him with an index finger over his lips.

“Don’t bother, who do you think they are going to believe? A pro-hero with a quirk and a squeaky clean record, or a quirkless scumbag that we have hundreds of reports on for sexual harassment and assault?”

With no affection or remorse you yank him by the hair and lick the shell of his ear.

“I had fun, Izuku. Find me when you get out of jail.” You place a final feather light kiss to his cheek and lead him through the crowds to bring him into the nearest precinct.

No man would ever make you feel as alive and exhilarated as he did, the memory of what you did being something you often revisit when you get yourself off late into the night after patrol, thinking of his villainous green eyes, while your words would haunt Izuku and play on a loop each night as he plotted ways to find you once he had served his time.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[soft-mafia]

Crush [Buggy x Reader] [Part 2]

warnings: female reader, nude drawings

a/n: here’s part 2!! I know a couple of people have been asking for it so I have delivered!! :D

part 1

Buggy sighed, standing in front of Y/n with nothing on but his socks, “Disappointed?” He said with a gruff sigh, “I know I’m not as.. hunky as some of your drawings but.. just try to make it work.”

Y/n looked at Buggy’s naked body with pure adoration in her eyes— he was much more handsome that she ever imagined. She was too enamored with her gawking that she didn’t even listen to what he had said.

He wasn’t going to lie, the way she was looking at him was kind of creeping him out. He detached one hand to wave it over her face, “Y/n? Hello?”

“Oh my god! The one thing I forgot!!” She gasped, Buggy’s hand flew back to his body as he was caught off guard by her sudden burst back to reality, “Your body hair! Your chest hair— that’s what was missing!!”

Buggy’s eyes widened a bit, “Huh?! Eh— aren’t those things that you want to avoid?”

Y/n set her book down and walked over to Buggy, standing closer to admire him even further, “No way! I think it makes you look so much more sexier!” She put her hands over her mouth and giggled as she blushed. Buggy’s entire face went red, he then laughed, feeling flattered and flustered at the same time.

Y/n shuffled closer to him, tracing the outline of his abs with her finger, “I think you are a hunk. I mean, yeah I kind of took a bit of— artistic liberties.. but you’re still sexy.”

“And my- and my dick..” Buggy mumbled under his breath, “Not as big, is it?” He sighed.

“Wellll, it was an educated guess. But I got pretty close.” Y/n shrugged, then looked down at it as it hung between his legs, she bit her lip. It was thick and meaty just like she imagined it. Buggy couldn’t help but smirk, “Yeah, you like what you see, sweetheart?” He grinned, putting his arms behind his neck to flex his muscles a bit.

Y/n squeaked when she noticed she was staring way too much and hid her face, “I-I’ll get back to— drawing you..” she hurried back to the chair across the room, holding her sketch book. Buggy sighed a bit, and here he was thinking he was about to get some action.. oh well.

“You.. wanted to be taller, right?” Y/n said, looking at her book, then back at Buggy.

Buggy put one foot up on a chair, his hands on his hips, “Yeah, and more buffer, maybe.. with a bigger hat or something too. Something that makes me look cool.”

Y/n giggled, rolling her eyes softly as she began to draw. A few minutes passed and she got the base sketch down, she then looked back at Buggy, starting on the actual line art.

“Jeez does it always take you this long?” Buggy grumbled, his leg starting to cramp a little.

“Yeah duh. Art isn’t easy.” Y/n said, biting her lip as she made Buggy’s abs look extra chiseled, and his hair extra long and voluminous. “So.. you don’t mind that I’m drawing you like this? You don’t think I’m creepy or anything?”

“Well..” Buggy started, looking off to the side, “I was.. weirded out at first, but to be honest I look better in your drawings than I do.. yknow, in general.”

“That’s not true!” Y/n looked at him, “I draw you because you already look hot.”

“Ugh.. don’t lie to me.” Buggy sighed, then looked back at Y/n, “Do you think-.. in your little drawing, you could draw me with a, normal nose? Just any kind of nose but not this big red thing.”

Y/n blinked at Buggy, pausing for a moment, “Why? Your nose is the best part about you..” Y/n was wondering how Buggy would react to this.. he always thought everybody was talking smack about his nose(even when they weren’t even talking about him in the first place..) she wondered how he would take a genuine compliment..

“I told you not to fucking lie to me!!” Buggy snapped, “That’s a cruel way to joke to somebody!! Disguising insults as compliments.. you should be ashamed of yourself!!” Buggy growled, then looked at Y/n’s sketch book. He then stormed over to her, making her gasp as he snatched it out of her hands.

“Is this a joke too? All of these drawings, were you purposefully drawing me like this with my nose just to insult me?!” Buggy growled, “Was everybody else on the crew in on this too?!”

“B-Buggy! That- that doesn’t even make sense, I would never do that!!” Y/n tried to reach out to grab her book, “Buggy, I think you’re handsome, really! Your nose is fine!”

“That’s Captain Buggy.” The man growled at Y/n, which quickly made her shut up and freeze in fear. “You know what.. this isn’t working out. Get out of my room.” Buggy growled and turned away from her after giving her book back, shoving it into her chest.

Y/n had tears in her eyes as she felt her heart break. Her mouth opened, lips trembling— she wanted to say something so bad, something to make things right but.. she was too scared. Y/n sniffled a little bit, she hugged her book to her chest while walking out of Buggy’s quarters.

Buggy sighed and slapped a hand over his forehead, he wrapped a towel around his waist before sitting on the edge of the bed and cracking open a bottle of booze, downing it like there was no tomorrow.

A little after midnight, Buggy was in a slightly intoxicated state. He felt awful, he felt ugly. But most of all— he was starting to miss Y/n. She was so sweet, she actually liked him, she liked him enough to obsessively draw him over and over again. And he just pushed her away. Buggy felt like an absolute asshole, and it made him want to drink even more.

He was about to put the bottle back to his lips again before he heard a knock on his door. He growled, “Go away!” He grumbled.

“C-Captain Buggy.. can I come in?” He heard Y/n’s voice from the other side of the door. Buggy’s eyes soften upon hearing her sweet voice, but then he growled again, “I told you to fuck off!!” As much as he wanted to open the door and hug Y/n until her eyes popped out— he was still pissy at her. Because in his mind, there was no way a girl like Y/n could genuinely find somebody like him attractive. She had to be playing with him.. messing with an old man’s emotions; what a cruel little bitch.

“Captain please, it’s important.” Y/n sounded like a dog scratching on its owner’s door wanting to be let inside..

Buggy growled and stumbled off of his bed, stomping over to the door before slinging it open, “Make it quick.” He growled.

Y/n opened her sketch book and flipped to a page, then showed him a drawing— it made Buggy’s gaze soften once more. It was the drawing of him that she was working on hours ago, he was so.. majestic, his hair was long, shiny and looked like it was blowing through the non existent wind. Y/n had made Buggy so handsome that he didn’t even focus on the nose at all. He had his foot up on a rock, waves were crashing behind him while there were some mermaids in the background flipping in the air. And his dick was huge as always(Y/n drew his actual size this time, now that she knew what it looked like)

“Awww.. baby..” Buggy slurred in his drunken state, wiping a tear from his eyes, “You made me so handsome— I-I’m sorry for yelling at you.. and being an asshole.” He sighed, “I should- I should give you a kiss.” Buggy stepped forward.

Y/n giggled and closed the book, holding it at her side, “I dunno Buggy.. why don’t we wait until you’re sober? I don’t really like the taste of- MMFF!” Without warning, Buggy smushed his lips against Y/n’s. She cringed slightly at the taste of his beer, but she decided to just accept her fate and kiss back.

This was all she ever wanted anyway, attention from her handsome captain. Even though he could be a grumpy pain in the ass sometimes, she thought it made him even more handsome and adorable.

Before she knew it, Buggy was dragging her into his room, then slammed the door behind the two of them.

Y/n had unknowingly dropped her sketchbook out in the hall when Buggy dragged her away. Some crew mates stumbled upon the new drawing, and they laughed their asses off about it for the rest of the night.

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[5.5k words]

[Angst, Power Play, Light Degradation, 18+]

Chapter 1 "Raspberry Tart"

Hound.

A fitting callsign for a dog that only knew how to follow orders. A mindless beast whose chain had been thrust into his hands forcibly and now he was to be your navigator, your Northern star in a sea of black. He’d have had no problem taking you under his wing, but you weren’t just some rookie in need of training. He couldn’t crack a cheesy joke and make you snicker, couldn’t relate to you in any way, couldn’t find common ground to start a conversation.

He’d tried to break you, poking at the squishy unknown beyond the stone exterior in the hopes that there was something still there.  It was incomprehensible, you were a living contradiction to the natural order, an anomaly made reality by nameless, faceless, suited figures scrambling for power and drowning with money. He was a stoic man, cold-blooded, ignorant of his trauma, and suppressive of any flicker of tenderness that tried to wiggle out. He was trained in the heat of battle, under the rain of bullets and among the hills of corpses. He taught himself to withstand anything thrown his way. You, on the other hand, had nothing to withstand. You weren’t stoic or calculative or cold.

You were indifferent.

It irked him.

Late at night, when he was left to his thoughts, he wondered what they had done to you.

What chemical turned a human’s sclera black and devoid the iris of color? What concoction was fused into your blood to make your muscles grow so dense you could punch through walls, at will? How could you pick up the heartbeats of enemy forces without even entering their headquarters? How did you see in the dark without any gear save for a peculiar oxygen mask?

What sort of poison had been pumped into you? Had it hurt? Does it hurt now?

You were a macabre sigh.

You don’t look healthy; gaunt features sharp enough to cut glass and dead eyes that burrowed into his soul. There were no bags under your eyes, you slept well at least, perfect for someone whose hands reeked of blood. The fat was barely any, it was impossible to retain the supple softness of femininity with your condition, and if it wasn’t for the perky tits showing beneath your loose tee he could have easily mistaken you for a scrawny man. A paradox; porcelain skin devoid of scars blanketing over a heap of muscle that could tear limbs like they were loose threads.

You’d been a pretty thing once, before the augmentations. He could tell.

You barely reached his collarbone and yet you could take a grenade head-on and live unlike him. And you had, for him. He’d nearly lost his mind when you had, tucked you into his chest because he’d lost too many good men already and you were fresh in his squad and dying under his care. A bleak moment of weakness on his end that he’d believed you’d have no recollection of because half your fucking face was missing. But then the flesh had crept back onto your exposed cheekbone and he’d pushed you away as quickly as he’d hugged you. His mask did well to hide both horror and bewilderment. It had taken you under two minutes and you were ready to go again.

He’d thought your files were a joke, had read them absentmindedly over a glass of bourbon then tossed them aside and waited for the actual reports. They weren’t a joke at all.

You were his shield. It’s been a year since you joined Task Force 141 and you had taken so much damage in his stead it was mindboggling still. There was no fear, no hesitation, no doubt, or rebellion; you simply sprawled yourself over him like a ballistic shield, soaking in anything lethal coming his way. It was a heartwrenching scene, but how could he feel empathy when he’d seen you rip people apart.

You were his weapon, a leal monster, ready to pounce at the flick of his wrist. But your loyalties to him were temporary, shallow compared to the ones you held for your torturers, your makers. He hadn’t expected you to abandon Gaz to fend off the enemy alone when you’d heard a vocalization of the target’s whereabouts over the coms. On that deployment, Ghost had learned that you held no value for human life, you cared not for the well-being of your teammates. Mission first, success at any cost.

After that display, he’d spend hours arguing with Price while trying to find a loophole that would let him kick you out of the squad. A seemingly endless exchange of words led to nothing, the Captain had taken a few long phone calls, all fruitless aside from some measly promises to instruct you better. You’d been summoned shortly after and the phone had been passed onto you because the bastards couldn’t even be bothered to correct your ways face to face.

“Protect all your teammates at all costs, not just the Lieutenant.”

“Do not abandon a comrade.”

“Your squad comes before your target.”

Simon had nearly missed the last sentence; it had been whispered so lowly over the line.

“Unless the target is within direct line of sight.”

He was left seething. He didn’t want you here. He’d tried again, stating more facts, adding more blood and bone-chilling scenarios to the list of reasons why you needed to be transferred, to no avail. He’d been hit with a stygian truth after. Either Task Force 141 or some blokes from KorTac, there were no other organizations that would take you in without downright exploiting your capabilities.

Judging by what little he knew about you, you wouldn’t care, but he would. He’d be caught dead before letting you walk into those war criminals’ grimy paws and have them lock your attention on him as your next target. No. You were his weapon, his shield, his hound; if anyone was going to lead you into a massacre, it would be him.

His charge, his responsibility.

His pet.

He’d settled after that, begrudgingly letting you stay.

And it wasn’t all bad. Over time he grew accustomed to your presence, you’d eat together, train together, sit together in some forgotten corner of the base and enjoy a moment of silence. Ghost was an intimidating man, both rank and appearance kept most people out of his way, but with you constantly on his heel and your docile nature out of combat, he grew fond of your companionship. Some days he forgot you were even there, skulking in his shadow.

Rarely did you speak without being spoken to, never whined or complained. It was as refreshing as it was disturbing. He dealt with it for the most part, but sometimes he couldn’t. Sometimes he wanted to see you shatter, find a crack in the masquerade for the sake of his own sanity. He needed you to crumble, to find a way to break you because then he would have some sort of reason to cling to. Some vague explanation for the turmoil you caused inside him without even meaning to.

He was torn between hating you with everything he had, leaving you be and retaining the fickle peace between the two of you, and obsessively delving into your being in search of some long-forgotten spec of humanity that yet lived.

It was becoming a problem.

Finally, he snaps out of his morning sulking and remembers he has a cup of black tea secured in his hand. He bunches up the skull mask on his nose and takes a candid sip, then grimaces.

“It’s cold.”

A soft remark muffled behind a mouthful of buttered toast. His eyes trail up, tired and distant, to find yours studying him like he was an intel chart.

You spare his drink a glimpse, offering wordlessly, then lick the grease off your thumb and let your fork rest against the leftover scrambled eggs on your plate.

“Want me to reheat it, Lieutenant?”

He hadn’t even noticed when you’d gotten up for a second serving, the only indicator being the stained empty tray lying next to your current one. You ate a lot, had to in order to regain the energy you exerted during missions, at least that’s how he understood it. A part of him hoped it would stick, add some more curvature to your form, show him there was still an ounce of normalcy in your existence, at least physically, but it never did.

“You can heat shit too now?” the rasp in his voice is still heavy with sleep. He’s drained and bitter after another night of nothing but restless tossing and he’s poking fun at you as strain relief.

And as usual, it flies right over your head.

“No. I meant in the microwave.” you motion past your shoulder, pointing at the cutlery set up in the back of the mess hall. When he remains silent you extend an arm towards the mug, palm spread out and waiting. “I don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t, you’re a good mutt. The demeaning slew nearly succeeds in slipping past his lips, he snuffs it out with more stale tea.

“Nah.” he turns down your offer and tucks the mug closer to his body. “ ‘S fine.”

“Pyrokinesis is preposterous.” you say, cooly, addressing his previous snark after a beat or two.

It pinches a nerve.

It’s not meant as a jab at his intelligence, just a fact based on your experiences with human experimentation. It’s never a joke or a cocky scoff or anything that would allude to a personality.

“You’re bloody preposterous.” he barks back and his eyes crease in distaste.

The wannabe super soldier telling him what was and wasn’t possible was not on his tolerance list for the day.

There’s a pause, one which he doesn’t appreciate as you’re stripping him bare without consent or clemency. Your stare is degrading, has been since day one, and you’ve no interest in privacy or personal space. The only reason you keep everyone at arm’s length is to minimize any possibility of injuring your subordinates, as instructed by your shadowy puppeteers. Each action, word, and thought from you seems normal at surface level, human, until one understands the reasoning behind it. Everything about you is twisted, it’s creeping up on him, warping his reality.

You’re prying through a blank visage, no remorse, chipping away at his persona and feigning concern.

It’s sickening, it feels so real.

“You’re snippy again.” you note, mow down the rest of your breakfast, and push away the food tray. “You’ve not slept. Again.” it was a statement rather than a question. Your hands clasp together, fingers intertwining as you abandon your hunched-over pose and adjust to a professional stance. “Have you considered – ”

Your maternal tattle is cut short when a phone is thrust into your face. You blink a few times as the image registers:

A puppy. A Labrador puppy all fluffy and adorable stares back at you from the screen.

You look up unamused, letting Soap’s smug grin beam down on you, a ray of sunshine on such a rainy morning. He’s a chipper one, carries both your apathy and Ghost’s grimness on his shoulders like it’s nothing.

“No?” the smile dies on his face and his subtle crow’s feet disappear.

“No.” you answer with a small shake to your head and earn a scoff. “It’s just a dog.”

“Fucking hell, Hound.” he slumps on the uncomfortable metal bench next to Ghost, swiping at his phone before tucking it in his pocket. The pout lasts a few seconds as he rubs a hand over his stubble. “I’ll find yer weak spot one day. Mark my words.” then he turns to the hulking mountain of a man beside him. “Mornin’, Lt.”

John MacTavish had taken a liking to you early on, shining antipodal to the rest of Task Force 141. He’d made it his goal to work a smile out of you and it had begun with dad jokes, then evolved to funny videos, now it was cute animals.

It was a doomed cause, but also none of your business. How he spent his free time was not your concern so you went along with it as long as it didn’t involve you actively participating.

“Mornin’, Johnny.”

“You’re a dedicated man, Sergeant.” you offer simple words and snap your mouth shut before they degenerate into anything derogatory.

“Unlike yourself.”

The cafeteria was lively with soldiers seeking a strong coffee and a hearty breakfast. The cacophony of chatter kept your hearing busy, your senses were dulled, you were relaxed, but you weren’t deaf. You didn’t miss the Lieutenant’s cynical nip.

The ambiance has slowly turned hostile, he’s extra cranky. You pinpoint it to his silent dwelling earlier and leave it t your tongue to resolve the matter before it escalates.

“You’re displeased with me today.” you lean back and let your hands glide off the table, resting them in your lap and appearing smaller. A subtle change, but one you’d learned he fancied; being smaller than him gave him more authority room and indulged his masculine pride. “Have I done something wrong, Lieutenant?”

He likes to stay high on a power trip and humiliate you, keeps your leash secure and short as if governing over you is a boast.

“Don’t like you in general.” casual, passive; he’s peeking at you from beneath light brown lashes. “Think we already established that.”

It’s always a step forward and a thousand back. He’ll be approachable one day, open to discussions on many topics, which are more monologues than dialogues. Then the frail serenity will snap and he’ll want to crawl out of his skin by simply being in your presence. You knew little of his internal wars, knew better than to carve a seat to a psychological bloodbath with no predetermined outcome. But it was confusing, he bore too many burdens and he was making it your problem.

You took bullets for him, would endure anything for him, you’d walk into a minefield if he so wished. You obeyed without question, proven your loyalty yet he refused to change his outlook and continued to treat you with as little fairness as possible.

He was a reject yet he judged you for your difference to the rest of his men. A hypocrite. How unnecessarily…bothersome.

He speaks with subtle malice, yet his body plays a different tune and you run your mouth before thinking. There is no backbone to his passive aggression.

“You lie.” 

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to humble your higher-up in a public setting, especially in front of his most trusted subordinate. However, you cared little for social norms and interaction standards.

He’s mustering a counterattack, as cold and as fowl as his tea, but it never leaves the confines of his skull mask because you continue to yap.

“A truthful man does not sweat. His pupils don’t shrink.”

The stab is made worse by the lack of satisfaction in your voice. You’re indifferent that you’ve caught him in his untruthfulness and it serves to twist the knife deeper.

The least you could do is show him grace by reciprocating his hatred with your own, but you don’t.

You don’t care.

Fuck you.

Ghost rises with the intent to leave, doesn’t spare you another glance, only stares straight ahead, past the crown of your head, and towards the exit.

A year, a whole year since you were assigned to him and still you were a dense twat with not a drop of regard for anyone, not even yourself. It was infuriating how stuck in your ways you were, he’d tried to rupture a change and the results were null. He’s fed up.

You’re a lost cause and his nerves are stretched thin, he’s inclined to simply avoid you today.

“Lt, wait.”

Soap, always the buffer to your scuffle, the voice of reason, but there’s nothing to cushion this time. The cord’s been cut, Simon’s let go of you for the moment and he’s in need of some good alone time to properly simmer down.

He’s stuffed his hands in his jeans, thumbs sticking out and glossing over the stitching. He doesn’t turn back when he offers a response.

“Appetite’s gone.”

If he was any shorter, he would have disappeared in the sea of soldiers, but he’s too easily distinguishable for such mercies. His steps are thunderous, you’ve committed the beat of his stride to memory. He was your highest priority on the battlefield, everything about him has been burned into your mind and it’s left a mark in your day-to-day. He could be on the other side of the base and you’d find him with a blindfold on.

A good soldier, the best. Why couldn’t he appreciate that?

You watch him unblinking as he rounds the corner and disappears out of sight.

An exasperated grunt makes your head reel back.

“Life of the party as always, Hound.” Soap snips, disappointment dripping past his teeth. It’s a gentle scold, as a big brother would his younger sibling after they’ve misbehaved.

“He lied.” you retort and your expression hardens in self-defense. “He wouldn’t be upset if he hadn’t lied. Why did he lie?”

“Ask em yourself, you blind eejit.”

The gravity of his words doesn’t register until they slip out.

There’s no stopping you now, there’s a goal set in front of you. He’s almost stirred enough to stop you, but a meek nag in the back of his head prevents him. Maybe it’s for the best that you talk it out and snuff out the fire before it has a chance to grow. He pities Ghost in a way. Of all the people he could have…

You secure the abandoned mug of tea and are already trailing after the Lieutenant.

“Oh, here we fucking go…” John is left with his cheek resting in his hand and scouring the mess hall for a livelier company to lighten his morning break.

You follow him by scent alone – a pleasing musk that characterized him well aside from the cologne. You maneuver around the horde of military personnel, washed out in a cluster of camo and rugged limbs. The rain has only worsened, battering against the row of windows gracing the corridor, you can almost smell it through the glass. It’s a lovely aroma, but Ghost’s is favored and it guides you through the limbo of concrete, up a few flights of stairs until you understand you’re heading towards his office.

He’s a good man, the Lieutenant, a wonderful man – stern and fair, caring in his unique decrepit way. So why does he insist on treating you like a disgruntled mentor?

If he’s feeling generous, you’ll find out soon enough.

You let yourself in absentmindedly, barge in like the inelegant brute you are and if there had been a conversation bubbling beyond the door it would have rattled you back to cognitive thinking. But the silence had only welcomed you.

He’s sat behind his desk, looming over sparse documents that are of no interest to you, a cigarette languidly burning in the ashtray next to his elbow, smoke sucked out by the ajar window.

His eyes lift at your intrusion.

The fucking audac –

“Why did you lie?”

Straight to the point as usual. No wordplay, no gentle gestures to picture a power imbalance and ease him into it. He’s your superior and you’re supposed to show respect. Tough luck when you forget that little detail.

“Didn’t give you permission to enter.” he watches the sentence seep in as you set his tea at the edge of his desk, mulling.

Without a word, you walk out as whimsically as you’d entered, tiny body made gangly by the white lights illuminating the hallway. The door closes with a creamy click and despite his irritation, he snorts.

A beat of nothingness before three curt knocks sound, it’s comical. You’re a God damn clown.

“Enter.”

You walk in and clear your throat and that blank expression never falters. With legs spread wide and steady, you clasp your wrist behind your back, nose brought high to expose your neck, spine straight and stretched like a violin string.

“Permission to speak, Lieutenant.”

He has the spite to deny your request, cut your escapade short and shoo you away.

“Granted.” he says instead.

The clock above your head ticks and soothes the stale silence, that and the storm outside. The lights are off, the blinds hold back the scant sunlight overshadowed by an ocean of clouds. The only lamp alive is the one on his desk, deep yellow and warm, casting grim shadows over the skin-tight skull mask. The pen hoisted between thick, battle-worn fingers is still.

He’s waiting, watching you like a prowling predator, chin dipped low and eyes half-hidden behind the ridges of his eyebrows.

“Why did you lie?” you repeat with less zest and your shoulders slack a tad.

You’re the best person to share with openly, would take his confessions to the grave, and have no reason nor will for judgment. All he needed to do was ask for you to never mention this to anyone and you could be tortured to death and not budge. It was so simple, you were simple, ranks be damned, you were here for him.

Though Ghost was anything but one-dimensional. He was a complicated individual with a rich past, he was comfortable trusting you with his life, not his secrets.

He steers away from your question and offers a crappy tease instead.

“Fishing for a Psychology degree, Cadet?”

“That’s not a proper answer.” you’re bullet fast to voice your displeasure with his evasiveness. Your paper-white gaze holds his honeydew brown one, displaying openness and hoping for reciprocation.

“And I’ve taught you proper interrogation.” he spits back with growing mock, taut in his chair, muscles solid and ready.

He fights a war not of the physical world, a solitary brawl, in which you refuse to participate. There is no point in such self-induced struggles; the debate of the heart and mind is a phenomenon known to all and it can be a slippery slope. Hence it had been chemically removed from your system.

At least you can see it bothers him, whatever it is he’s musing over. You’d offer advice, you’d help if he let you dip your toes in the problem, but he was too stubborn.

You fail to understand that you’re the problem.

“You’re avoiding the question.” dry and bland, a boring fact both of you have come to acknowledge.

“I don’t need to answer your fucking question.” the pen and papers are pushed to the side as his attention is fully directed towards you. He readjusts and even while sitting down he seems larger than you. “Mind your bloody tone with me, Dog.”

You startle at that, tighten like a board and your expression falters for a second. It’s not his sharpness that shakes your awareness awake, it’s your behavior – obtrusive and insolent, insulting him with nonchalance unacceptable for a soldier of your rank when conversing with a superior. Your nails dig into the fluff of your palm to ground you, and your knee trembles with the barely repressed need to bend and dig into the floor.

It’s a fleeting sight, but he sees you stagger. An alien sensation coils in his stomach.

Finally.

Finally…

A glint of normalcy is peeking beneath the crooked façade. You’re brooding, maybe even experiencing something, branching out from the year-long unbreakable apathy.

“I apologize, Lieutenant.” you yield, backtracking until you settle into a less casual mindset. “I’ve no right requesting any information of you.”

“Damn straight you don’t.” he sinks his teeth in the opportunity, strangely eager to coax a more prominent reaction out of you, obsessive even. Speaks to you with a demeaning twinge, egged on by the split second in which your brows dip. “Forgot your place.”

His tone is biting, but his movements are fluent as he stands and rounds his desk to approach you. He towers over you unapologetically and you’re left staring at the center of his collarbones, avoiding his eyes as a sliver of respect.

He clips your chin between two calloused fingers, burdens you with a look of contemplation as he debates an idea.

“Open.” he commands and you oblige.

Your jaw lowers as your lips part without an ounce of hesitation. The hairs on his arms rise in anticipation, concealed beneath the course military blouse.

His thumb travels up, past the dimple of your chin, and over your plush bottom lip. His skin grazes your bottom teeth before he presses down on your tongue.

“Suck.”

Your lips curl around his salty digit, tasting the smoky cigarette he’d mouthed a few minutes prior. His concentration wanes, his pupils expand briskly before he catches himself softening. He pushes on the roof of your mouth to guide your vision to lock onto him.

Your rhythmic suckling sparks a warmth low in his abdomen. A dull aching pulse licks deliciously at his loins and he sinks his canines into the side of his cheek to snap out of it. He can’t afford this, not with you, you don’t deserve to witness tenderness when you have none to offer in return. So he remains an explorer and keeps pushing boundaries if not to see you uncomfortable, then for his own curiosity.

“You do as I say, when I say.” he rumbles a guttural reminder of your place, then slips his thumb out of your slithery hold and takes a step back. “On your knees.”

Your legs fold in an instant, knees digging into the tiled floor with a deaf thump. You’re face to face with his crotch and a sickening thought passes by him that makes his thighs clench.

Pushing boundaries, that’s all this was. Nothing more.

He rests a hand on the hem of his jeans and fiddles his zipper, alluding to actions he didn’t intend to follow through with. A somber attempt at making you react, but you don’t. There’s not even an involuntary twitch of a muscle – you’re still as a statue and just as emotionless.

He’s stuck between pondering if you’ve called his bluff or you’re simply passive to the idea. Either way, what he’s hinting at is vile and you being this pliant is unnerving.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re just gonna let me…” he trails off and swallows the bile rising in his throat.

What if you were left in the hands of a less gracious leader? What if some fucked up bastard had gotten a hold of you before him? What if he’d succeeded in kicking you out and you ended up in KorTac…?

What would they have done to you?

What if –

“ – I do as you say, when you say, Lieutenant.”

He snarls at that. Grabs a fistful of your top and boosts you to your feet. The tips of your boots are barely touching the ground and he’s lurched over you, so close that you’re overwhelmed by his breath.

Toothpaste, cigarettes, a feint hint of bourbon from the night before.

You inhale slowly, too comfortable in his grip and it makes no sense to him considering his treatment, then exhale audibly and speak again.

“Why does it bother you so much? My condition.”

“It’s not normal.” he gives you a solid jerk, emphasizing his words, spewing poison. “It’s shit. How am I supposed to trust you if you don’t give a flying fuck about me…or the team?”

“I would never let – ”

“ – Don’t gimme that crap.”

You’re an adaptive creature. You remember the intricacies of man despite no longer seeing any value in them. His frustration is evident, a spout of bio-chemicals thickens around him, from which adrenaline and oxytocin are the most prominent. He’s torn between protecting himself from you and protecting you from the rest of the world. And at the end of the day, he’s only human and has spent too much time with you, a member of the opposite sex, to be unaffected by your presence.

You do the first thing that comes to mind. A short-circuited move in the name of self-preservation while also not causing him any harm as per your orders.

You kiss him. Inch close while he’s in a haze of despicable turmoil and press your lips where his would be hidden behind the mask.

His lethal tantrum ceases.

He’s stunted, shaken to the bone as he stares right through you. His eyes are bulging, accentuated by the charcoal face paint. His whole body is pulsing, you hear his heartbeat, steady but clamorously loud in your ear, then he cocks his head to the side and you begin to question if your choice of action had only worsened his state.

“I’m sorry.” you blurt. “I misread you, I didn’t – ”

He’s clawing at his mask until it catches on his nose and graces you with a strong jaw littered with nearly blond stubble. You bite your tongue before more words spill and risk shattering the desperate trance he’s succumbed to.

He devours your mouth with a hoarse grunt, the force causing your neck to crane back. The large hand holding you in place vanishes shortly before he starts pawing at your hips, clutching at the firm flesh and then seeking refuge in the dip of your ass.

“Lieut – ” you suck in a breath when he hoists you up like you’re nothing and nudges your legs until they’re wrapped around his thick waist. Your ankles lock over the small of his back and you hold a steady grip on his collar as he shushes you with a husky “shut up”.

His stubble grazes and prickles as he reclaims your wet lips with bruising vigor.

The chain lies broken, his resolve has been torn to shreds after months of no reciprocation. He’s a starved man, too battered and scarred to seek his fix from a stranger. So he’s looked to you, an amalgamation of senseless strength and a hollow heart, an abyss devoid of feeling or emotion, the worst possible option, but in his mind – the only option.

Desperation blinds even the strongest of warriors.

With wobbly steps, he squishes you between the wall and himself, lets words flow without a single sound, and twirls his tongue around yours as you perfectly follow his shaky guidance. He sucks at whatever he can find, made mad with a craving for your essence despite never having tasted you before, slobbers you like a touch-starved dog.

Crushed into the warm safety of his body, in the darkness of his quarters, you're hidden from the world as he gingerly indulges his wants. Senses peaking from overdrive, you only hear, smell and feel him, a fleshy mountain carrying the scent of what you learn is home. What little exposed skin you find is scalding, he shudders while you unintentionally map out his shoulders in search of purchase.

He peppers heated pecks down your jaw with a resounding groan and finds the even pulse in your neck.

You jolt as his teeth encase the spot and he freezes.

“Want me to stop?”

His head is nestled in the crook of your neck, away from the possible judgment of your sight. His voice is low, a scratchy reverberation, strained with a need too great to be put out by his self-restraint alone. He’s a mess, oozing hormones, jittery and uncertain but too lost in his delight to retreat.

He’s slipped inadvertently and wound up vulnerable.

“No.”

He’s satisfied with your answer only for a moment before the nagging reality starts chewing at his gut. You aren’t normal. You’re not the typical bird he’d pick out in a bar after a particularly heavy mission and one too many glasses of scotch. You’re fucked up.

He doesn’t want to keep asking, wishes so direly to stay blind and dumb to the facts spitting acid in his face. But he’s too grounded for such fantastical blessings.

“Want me to keep going?” he looks up with a clenched jaw.

His breathing slows, preparing for a hit similar to a bullet to the chest, but there is no Kevlar to shield him from the devastation. He’s bare before you, at your mercy despite his stoic composure keeping him visibly untouchable. You should pity him, feel something because your situation hints at him being more than an ally or friend. You should muddle the truth or let him down delicately, he deserves as much.

He wanted you to want him. He didn’t want to be alone in his desires.

But you’re no liar, you’re not a gentle soul. You offer him a curt, tasteless answer.

You stare him straight in the eyes and shoot.

“No.”

It stings more than it should.

“I want for nothing.”

The fire in his belly is extinguished, it feels as if the blood is sucked out of his body. The stab leaves his pulsing cock flaccid with only a stain of precum smeared against his boxers as a reminder of the blossoming need you’d snuffed out mercilessly.

He holds your gaze as the spark in his shrunken orbs vanishes, then slowly sets you down and tears himself away with disgust; regretful and insulted.

“Get out…”

Chapter 2 >>>

Masterlist

[I'm a bit uncertain about this one. It's a niche idea, but it's been swimming in my head for some time now. Someday I'll be satisfied with my writing, but for now I'll settle for this. I'm not great at COD characters so if anyone seems OOC forgive me. I try my best, but I'm a rookie.]

[rekikiri]

🌻

- @ninyard <33

hey!! hope you enjoy because this got super long <333

so, I am sooo much so a fan of jean and neil banter and friendship. i have a hard time finding raven!neil fics I like tho for Reasons, sadly, but god the POTENTIAL is there

okay so a big headcanon I have for them is that kevin and jean both had very obvious crushes on jeremy that neither would acknowledge. kevin doesn’t actually realize it’s a crush tho shhhh but jean DOES and neil, being neil, teases him (poor jean). jean, however, delights when he realizes andreil is becoming a thing because FINALLY, payback!!!

so in a raven!neil idea I have, there’s a banquet scene being written where neil is “insulting” andrew in german, so his tone is super condescending and mean for riko to think he’s being a dick but in reality he’s going, “hey hey hey play along, okay? how’s it going? how’s kevin doing? is he being an annoying asshole like usual?” and they’re in contact so they’re like … kinda friendly, ya know? and andrew plays along, and it ends with (most) of the foxes thinking they hate each other, Aaron and nicky super confused, and it’s just fun

HOWEVER , back to jean and neil. neil has a crushhhh and doesn’t know it yet, but JEAN. jean saw that fucker’s :))) over the banter disguised as an insult.

so jean is like, ;) you and minyard, huh?

and neil is confused like yeah ? we’re scheming, this is how people who are scheming behave ??

and jean just. stares at him and calls him a moron and then Neil is like, “look, just because I enjoy talking to him and planning how to take down riko with him and I know his stats on how much he benches and I like how I can lean against him and trust him to hold me up doesn’t mean — FUCK JEAN WAIT”

cue neil crisis and jean finally, FINALLY gets his payback for the jeremy crush jokes

[am-i-interrupting]

please could you do something for arcane where reader comes home in a sling and is like "haha funny story" and it turns out they fractured their elbow? i fell off my bike at 8am yesterday morning and biked for idk how may miles and did farm work before going to the hospital roughly 7 hours later. turns out it wasn't a bad bruise like i thought lol. now im in a sling for 6 weeks and it was kinda sus that i was losing mobility in my arm throughout the day before i went to the hospital

Caitlyn

She will go into protective mode immediately.

She is by your side as much as you’ll allow her, getting you everything you need and more.

She will buy you sweets and get you your favorite drink every day during your recovery.

Will be giving you a lot of face kisses when she gives you something or does something you can’t do at the moment.

If anyone gives you the pity look and starts treating you differently she is glaring at them with a stare so hard and cold they stop immediately. Don’t say anything just half, turn around, and walk away.

Ekko

He will immediately check you over for any other bruising or cuts as soon as the news is broken.

He’s extra doting during your recovery, many kisses and cuddles, will fret over whether or not you’re actually comfortable laying with him.

He’s not the tallest individual so if he can’t get something for you, he is asking the other Firelights to get it for you.

On that topic, when he’s not around he has asked several of the Firelights to not smother you but stay near in case you need something.

Just super sweet and helpful during your recovery all around.

Jinx

She is immediately asking who hurt you and when you reveal that it was your own clumsiness, she takes a breath and jokes about it.

She will try to act like it’s no big deal but always has you in the peripheral of her vision.

She’s not as good as she thinks she is at hiding her hovering habits during this time.

She is making and stealing you so many pretty things during this time just to see you smile.

She will also do your hair for you if it’s long enough to style and she is joining you in the bath to wash and brush it.

Silco

When you explain what happened, he will act like he’s scolding you but in reality it’s simply a rouse to disguise his concern. It’s not easy at the best of times, much less when you’re injured.

He will be giving you the best medicine available for any pain.

He’s also making you teas that are supposed to help soothe pain as well. Where he got such high quality tea? He won’t tell you but it’s there.

It’s also like he can read your mind because if you even think of getting something it’s already on the table in front of you.

You’re also not going to work for the entirety of your recovery. It doesn’t matter if you work for him or someone else. If you work for someone else and they refuse to be accommodating, fine you’ve got a new job with Silco waiting for you when you’re better.

Viktor

He is absolutely worried for you but understands how annoying it can be to have people try to do things for you because you’re in pain.

He will only get things for you if you ask and he is happy to do so.

He will massage your shoulder if it starts to hurt from the sling.

Is giving you alternative pain meds to try if the ones you have aren’t working.

He will also hold ice to your elbow so you don’t have to since it can be a pain.

[moonlight-tmd]

Unicron and Primus meeting Bee's Partners in the god sparkling au?

Been a while since i talked about this old thing-

Hmm well, I suppose i coulld pull together the very unstable story i've put together for this AU. But let's skip to the "Meet your in-laws" scenes, shall we?

ProwlBee!

The first time Prowl met Unis (Unicron) he was scared for his life cuz this guy was huge. Not to mention the danger aura invading his EM field whenever he was near. Bee has always felt like a little trouble magnet to him but this guy was that x1000. Unis on the other hand tries his best to not squish the black boring bug his beloved bitty chose as a mate- this guy doesn't even know how to tell a joke for frag's sake! How is he supposed to entertain his bitty when all the stuff he does is boring... Oh well, he supposes he makes Bee happy and safe, but if he ever makes his sweet supernova cry then he will regret it.

Prisma (Primus) was a whole lot different as you imagine- sure he was still big, maybe bigger than Unis, but unlike him he almost didn't feel threatening. There was something about him that made everyone calm down. Prowl was quite happy that this one actually likes him and even shares few of his interests. Prisma was also happy that his bitlet found someone who can take care of him and make him happy. Although it might have hurt him a tiny bit seeing how similar Prowl and Bee are to him and Unis... he'l keep an eye out just in case something goes wrong.

ShockBee!

When Bee introduced Longarm to Unis there was this awkward moment of just them staring at one another. Bee couldn't tell what's wrong but Longarm was momentarily trapped in his own hell- He stood before the God of Chaos himself and could do nothing as the disguise he had faded away before he snapped back to reality with Bee and Unis. Longarm generally avoids Bee's Papa, he believes he doesn't like him... and he does! Unis knows perfectly what "Longarm" is and does and, despite loving the thrill of danger and betrayal, he DOES NOT like that he is his bitlet's mate. There's so much things that could go wrong and he is not willing to risk anything and have Bee cry because of this double-agent. He makes sure to let him know he's not welcome and hopefully breaks up with Bee.

Prisma was not that different. Longarm felt the same imposing aura and saw his image just like he did with Unis, and it effectively made him doubt all his life choices. Prisma also doesn't like that this mech is full of lies and betrayal, he may not be as direct as Unis but he does give him the cold shoulder. Also he and Unis finally agreed on something together, hooray!

BlitzBee!

Unis almost decapitated Blitz the first time he saw him- Blitz jumped Bee and picked him up, Unis attacked thinking Bee was in danger. Fortunatelly Bee stopped him before anything bad could happen- Blitz, upon knowing that the mech who nearly killed him is Bee's dad... well, he definitely kept himself in line around both. Although not for long as Unis rather quickly took a liking to him- he called him a freak in an affectionate way (?) and seemed to enjoy his company. Unis liked the way Blitzwing was; he was fun, unstable and very strong- perfect recipe for chaos! He was happy for Bee to have found himself someone so good to mate with.

Prisma tho, wasn't as impressed as Unis but he still was accepting. Although in a way one would accept someone disabled or with defects. The first time they were ever left alone Prisma told him he went thru so much and that he will make sure the ones who hurt him will pay the price of doing so. Blitzwing was confused but he didn't say anything. He didn't complain, both of Bee's parents seemed to approve of their relationship. Although it would've been nice if Unis didn't slip and reveal them to the others before they could come up with a plan to do so...

[wonbons]

Special Session ▪︎ s.es

pairings: tattooartist!eunseok x fem!reader

genre: smut, slight enemies to lovers mdni

summary: eunseok gets horny while tattooing you.

warnings: degradation kink, dirty talks, brat tamer, size kink if you squint, harsh words, needles, masochist, nipple play, fingering

also posted on ao3!

notes: my first smut, please give me some advice! also, please let me know if i missed any warnings. enjoyyyy!

this one's for melody @wontonstaro

—

You don’t even know why you love suffering like this. Laying on the bed, while Eunseok, your forever favorite tattoo artist is doing his job. This time, it’s your stomach.

“You’re indeed a masochist, Y/N.” Eunseok commented.

“Oh, shut up. If I’m a masochist, then what are you? Must be a sadist in disguise.” You try to bear the pain. Hand palming your forehead while you bite your bottom lip.

Eunseok looks so tense since your session start. You don’t bother to ask though, he is so hot when he’s serious like this.

You feel the needle hits your sensitive spot on your tummy, it hurts like hell. You arched your back in response, grunting, and covering your mouth with your hand, your other hand is holding the chair’s armrest.

Eunseok swore he’s never been this hard before. The view of you arching your back… and your fucked up face…

If he wasn’t insane before, he is already insane now.

However, he needs to be professional. He tries so hard to finish the masterpiece on your skin.

“Oh my God.” You moan to your hand. Making it even harder for Eunseok now, but you know what?

He survived until the end! Eunseok will definitely gave himself a pat in the head later.

“Done, silly.” He bandaged your tattoo with a clear tape. “You know what to do and not do.”

“The pain felt nice.” You joke around while observing Eunseok. He’s sweating in his black tank top and grey sweatpants. Giving you the best view of his body line. You really wonder why is he sweating, though… the air conditioner is cold enough for you, why would he be visibly sweating like that?

Not that you complain, again, no one can’t deny that Eunseok is one of the hottest tattoo artists in town. Your friends barely get an appointment spot, but since you know him since he’s still a small business, you always manage to book an appointment with him.

“So, you really are a masochist.” Eunseok scoffed.

“Chill out, Mr. Sadistic Night.” You check yourself out in the mirror in his studio.

“Not the Diabolik Lovers references, please.” Eunseok laughed and stood behind you. “Do you like my work?”

You gulped to the fact that Eunseok is towering you. Why does he look ten times hotter? Why do you lowkey hope that he hugs your waist and maybe place his head on the crook of your ne—

“I won’t pay if I don’t.” You snapped yourself back to reality.

“Is that a threat?”

“If you think so.” You turn around to face him. “Do you have another client today?” You almost want to disappear after you said that. Why would you even ask that as if you’re going to have him if he doesn’t have another client coming out?

“I’m actually closed at this hour, dumbass. I made an exception for you.” He pinched your nose lightly.

“Oh, right! It’s twelve thirty now.” You checked the clock in his studio and grin. “I better be going.”

“It’s late, though. Do you want to stay the night?” Eunseok tries to check if he’s not the only one who feels this way.

You raised an eyebrow and took a step forward. Making your body so close to him now that you could feel his bulge down there. The bulge that you’ve noticed since the beginning of your session.

“Stay the night? With you?” You asked so softly while looking at his eye, his lips, and to his other eye.

Oh, you’re so wrong for using that method to him.

The next thing you know is that you are in his bedroom, eating each other’s face now. You’re laying down on his bed, hands pushing down his nape so you could kiss him deeper. The kiss is so passionate and aggressive. You grab his hair, making him groans in your kiss. His hand is traveling underneath your white tank top, squishing your breast slowly, and then pinch your nipple so lightly.

You moan from the pleasure, Eunseok took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You try to win the fight, but he is so much more dominant that you give up your tongue and just whine.

Eunseok pulls himself from the kiss, now he uses both hands to play with your breasts. “Do you want this?” He continues to tease your nipple with his thumb.

You can’t give a proper response since your head is spinning from the pleasure alone. You nod while try to hold back your moans.

“I need your words, baby…” Eunseok smirks at your already fucked up face.

“Oh, shut up. You know that we want to fuck each other.” You glare at him.

“Is that so?” Eunseok lets out a chuckle. “Don’t blame me if I lose my self-control towards you.”

“I don’t ca—fuck!” You can feel his tongue circling your nipple, gently sucking, and sometimes nibbling it with his teeth. You let out a little moan and arch your back in response.

“Do you have any idea of how hot you look when you arch your back earlier in our session?” He stares down at you and you try to stare back. His eyes look different than usual, this time they’re more… narrow? And dark?

You couldn’t even answer his question, you’re busy admiring his handsome face. God really took His time when he sculpted Eunseok.

“You’re walking in with that silly see-through jacket and white tank top…” His voice is one pitch lower too now. “You have no idea of the power you have on me.”

“Is that why you always look bothered during our sessions?” You smirked, acting so brave.

“You have no idea of how many times I imagine this moment to happen, Y/N.”

“Then cherish it, Eunseok. Fuck me like what you always been imagining all these times.”

That’s it.

That’s all he needs to set off the animal in him.

Eunseok went back to your breasts and aggressively sucks the nipple. You finally let out a real moan this time. The one that Eunseok wanted.

He took his top first. Then he’s taking off yours and get back to his original position where his body is between your legs. That makes his job a lot easier in term of sliding your shorts down.

Eunseok plays with your clothed cunt. He massages the sides slowly while looking at your face, waiting for any reaction.

“Stop teasing, please.” You shut your eyes and unconsciously raise your hips.

“Aww... Do you want me that bad, baby?” He slides your panties down. You can feel he’s staring at you since your faces are so close.

He starts to finger your cunt and tries to find your g-spot while stroking your clit too. Now your hips are uncontrollable. Eunseok is enjoying the view very much, he looks so proud of himself.

The worst part is he found the spot. That fast.

“Eunseok—nghh!” You can’t hold your voice now. The pleasure is too much.

“That’s right, say my name.” Eunseok chuckled. While you suffer to even open your eyes. “You look so pretty when you’re all fucked up like this. And from my fingers only? Tsk, tsk, tsk… baby, you’re so needy.”

“Shut u-up.” Your voice is trembling. You feel like you almost reach your climax, but Eunseok stop.

You whine and gave him your puppy eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I want you to cum with me.” Eunseok finally opens his sweatpants. You would be lying if you say you’re not surprised of his size. He’s a lot bigger than you thought.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.” You scoffed.

Eunseok pulls out a condom from his pocket, slide it into his cock, and get back to his position again.

This time, he doesn’t put your legs on his waist. He put them on his shoulders instead.

“Are you ready?” He asked while holding your chin softly.

“Yes.” You answered.

“Beg for it, then.” He’s testing your patience.

“Just fuck me already, goddamn it!” You’re impatient about this.

“Oh, looks like someone got a serious attitude problem.” Eunseok holds both of your hand down above your head with just one hand. “Let’s see where that attitude of yours will bring you, baby.”

You clench over nothing just from his mean threats.

He slides his cock in. Even if he’s mean, he gave you some time to adjust, he stays still. Waiting for you to—

“Oh, what a coward. Fuck me senseless alread—”

He pounds so hard and fast into your already dripping cunt. You were surprised by his action. You manage moan his name between the unformed words you try to say.

“Aww… my baby is crying already?” Eunseok mocks you. “How does it feel to be fucked so senseless?”

You whine and moan in response, “Euns—ahh! N-nghh…” Unable to form any word, your brain is full of Eunseok’s name and this high feeling.

“Look at you, you can’t even say any word properly... Looks like I fuck you so damn good that you can’t even remember anything...” He caresses your jaw with his free hand. “Come on, do it again.”

“Eunseok…” You say between your breaths.

“Louder.” Eunseok pounds harder and you can feel him so deep inside you. Stroking every right spot inside of your pussy.

Eunseok almost die to the sight of him deep inside your pussy like this. This is truly a dream come true for him.

“Mmm-ahh—Eunseok!” You’re so helpless. You can’t grab his hair. You can’t kiss him. You can’t talk back.

“That’s right, baby.” His pounds are animalistic now. Eunseok is also chasing his high, his breathe is starting to sound heavy. “Cum with me, baby.”

You’re a moaning mess. All these pleasures make your mind foggy. You could feel your climax is building up.

“Eunseok… nghh, Eunseok…” Your breath is panting. Your body trembles. “Eunseok!”

“Aangh, Y/N!” He reached his high at the same time with you.

Eunseok pulls out and walk into the bathroom, finding a towel and damp it in warm water. He came back and clean you up gently.

“Did I get too rough—”

“No, shut up. It was my best sex ever.” You admitted shyly.

“So, you really like it rough, huh?” He giggled.

“Stop.” You try to throw a pillow at him, but he dodged it.

“You’re really a freak in bed, Y/N. Degradations got you clenching over nothing, that’s cra—”

“I’m not paying you.”

Eunseok burst out a laugh. “You paid, though.”

You gave him a confused look. “Fuck you mean I paid?”

“You got me sex drunk earlier, it was more than enough.” Eunseok explained. He’s done cleaning you up.

“What a weirdo.”

“Do you like me, Y/N?” He asked so suddenly while snuggling up to you now.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can’t you just answer?”

“Why do you think I’ve been so loyal to you since day one?” You questioned him back.

He gasped. “You’re a cheater?”

“Even to my hair salon.”

“Oh my!” Eunseok’s reaction makes you laugh now.

“Well, then let’s make this serious, yes or oui?” Eunseok breaths in the crook of your neck.

“Beg for it, then.” You make him taste his own medicine.

“Oh, you’re so mean, Y/N!”

—

© wonbons, 20231026

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Thinking abt tf2's comedy writing and character dynamics bear with me... all three canon "pairs" of characters - Medic and Heavy, Soldier, and Demo, Sniper and Spy - have a similar dynamic, a wacky comedic character and a more "straight-man" type of character. Medic and Heavy are probably the example of this people are most familiar with reading and writing this way, but I can argue the case for the other two too! Medic probably does the most absurd things out of any tf2 character, while Heavy is considered one of the most down-to-earth members of the cast and serves to "ground" Medic in reality a little bit; the best example of this in the main comic is, of course, the baboon pregnancy bit, and I would also consider all their dialogue in Meet the Medic to be very representative of this dynamic. People tend to characterize Demo as basically like. "Soldier 2" which I think is slightly accurate but not completely representative of him! While Demo is a very Big personality, very memorable, very bombastic (lol), he DEFINITELY works to ground Soldier if only in that he's actually smart. In the main comic, we see this when Demo is reassuring Soldier he won't be fooled by his civilian disguise, and in the update comics I think this is best shown in the WAR! comic, where Demo has his life together and has a nice ass house and is taking care of his mom n everything, while Soldier is living in the dark surrounded by army surplus tomato soup and boxes from The Rib Place. Now I know Sniper and Spy are going to be a hard sell, because Sniper is not as outwardly Wacky or Silly a character as Medic or Soldier, however he's pretty obviously grounded by Spy in the same way Heavy and Demo ground their partners. Spy is so uptight he's basically begging to be a comedic straight-man, and his repeated displays of disgust towards Sniper's more outlandish and comedic behavior gives him that outlet. Jarate is the most obvious example of this being their dynamic, but I also think the part in the comic where Spy is exceedingly disgusted by Sniper's nudity and yet refuses to give up his very expensive suit jacket counts towards this (in general, having a clothed character react strongly to a naked character's nudity is what keeps the repeated use of nudity in the tf2 comics funny, imo). Theirs is a liiiittle bit different tho, since in the process of "grounding" Sniper, Spy is also performing one of his own signature jokes (thinking he's hot fuckin shit when he's really no better shakes than anyone else in his situation)

[moodymisty]

'Kicks door in' it would be really funny if konrad or corvus had a moral darling that could sneak up on them. And she does it all the time completely on accident. Just a funny little idea / request

Konrad always finds it funny because you usually will ‘attempt’ to sneak up on him and say “boo!”, just joking around. It’s just something cute you do and he pays it no mind.

The one time you don’t he actually doesn’t see you coming in multiple regards, and turns around to see you with surprise. He sulks for no short amount of time afterwards.

For Corvus, it’s more of a game. You’ve been hunting for the moment where he’s most off guard that you can try and sneak up on him, despite the fact that you in reality have next to no shot.

Though fate perhaps aligns as one even Corvus is particularly consumed in some less than enjoyable business, grimacing and grumbling over a table. You walk up behind him and ask what’s wrong, in which he turns around with mild surprise.

He quickly disguises it with a “hello my love,” but he stews over the fact he got so irritated by all this nonsense that he didn’t even hear you coming.

He also sulks for a bit after. These emo boys can’t deal with their emotions without it.

[themoodyestj]

hey, i heard that you love to speculate on other people's lives, so i did some speculation of my own, this is my theory hear me out i think the reason you hate the Ackles so bad is that you are secretly gay, but you are homophobic and deeply in the closet. you hate Danneel because she was your gay awakening (i don't blame you, she's hot as fuck) and you hate being gay. you always say you don't want to fuck Jensen and that's true, you actually want to fuck his wife so bad that it makes you despise him, you are jealous of him, not her. he's the one who has what you want. so, you run a secret anti Jensen blog that is disguised as an anti Danneel blog, because you hate them both, but you don't want anyone to find out that you're gay, so you pretend to be a Jensen fan. i'm 100 percent right, i'm certain of it, because i have eyes and i'm an expert on body language. Boink!

Dear Anon, I'm gonna level with you. I have recently caught a head cold and I was feeling like death warmed up, but you surely made me laugh! Thank you for that! Also, it is always refreshing to get a delulu in my inbox. No matter how crappy I feel, it's always comforting to know I'm not you. I have to take a page out of Misha's book and come clean... I am straight. But if I *were* gay, it wouldn't be for ze kween, dear God, have you seen that? I'd be gay for Scarlett Johansson. I don't know, Meryl Streep (such a GILF), Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway. You know, real actresses. I'd even be gay for Gen, if I'm being honest! Her voice sounds a lot better, she seems a lot more loving, she actually does shit that works and she's a lot prettier! Another thing I love about her, is that she seems like she can actually read, instead of keeping books on a shelf for photos. And she's really really classy. She shines without trying too hard. I mean, compare this:

With this:

It may be a matter of taste, but if I were gay, I think I'd like my girl to not be trashy or slutty. To leave something for the imagination, you know? No joke, for me, this dress is the female equivalent of this:

If only there would be one of those in lace. And now that I come to think of it, Cohen was a lot more famous wearing a disgusting mankini that your Kween ever got wearing... those things she does, titties showing and all. Weird, right? A man's hairy body and junk hanging is more valuable than your Kween. Gotta hurt. Last but not least, if I may ask you a few questions (you can answer in delulu, I took a few classes).

1. Is it possible to be gay and homophobic?

2. Why are you using the word gay as an insult? (hellers are coming for you, yes they are, you homophobic piece of shit smeared in hairy low hanging balls, big disgrace for mankind. poor excuse of a human being)

3. How is my blog secret? Oh... You thought you *found* it? Through *extensive research*? Oh honey....

4. How did you read my body language? I'm curious. Did you find me hot? Im hot. If you saw me, you know Im hot. Hotter than your kween (which, admittedly, isnt very hard, so its not even much of a flex).

5. And last but not least, will you be so kind to take a survey? My blog aims to make everyone feel included, including society parias and looneys like you. So I just launched a survey to try and understand you guys better to better serve your needs. You can answer it by clinking on the link.

I'm looking forward to hearing your opinion! In @themoodyestj we aim to please, while giving you a thorough reality check!

[everydayyoulovemeless]

[Deacon Idolizes You]

➼ Word Count » 0.6k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Headcanons based on how Deacon treats you once Idolized.

He might actually disappear for a minute after he opens up to you about Barbara. Having his whole past spread out on the table for you to see is incredibly uncomfortable for him and he's gonna need some time to get used to having all that open to you.

Sometimes you’ll just find him sleeping on your couch. If he needs to get away for a minute he’ll go crash at your place for a bit. He almost hopes that you’ll show up and so the two of you could talk or something. It always makes him feel so much better when you do.

He somehow got a hold of matching leather jackets for you both to wear and always does his best to incorporate them into his disguises.

Deacon will bring you pre-war board games and ask if you could teach him the rules because the instructions had been burned decades ago and he desperately wants to learn.

He's actually really interested in fashion and will gladly put together a great outfit for you whether you asked for it or not. He also just loves sitting in a room and brainstorming disguise ideas together.

He's really curious about a lot of things from before the war and you'll find that he likes to randomly drag you into different areas and ask you tons of questions. He's especially interested in cartoons and other forms of media and is constantly questioning why they existed or what they usually had on them

He's weirdly good at spas? Massages, and manicures, and all that. He'd give you one if you asked/felt comfortable enough.

He loves sneaking around Goodneighbor or Diamond City with you and watching any fights or drama that happens throughout the day. It reminds you of when you used to watch reality TV shows back before the war and he always has the best comments.

He likes doing graffiti with you on random buildings in the Commonwealth. He’s actually really good at art but refuses to utilize that talent, instead, he just draws stick figures everywhere.

The two of you spent a day disguised as the other to see how long you can get away with it. (it wasn't very long)

He’ll ask if it could be possible for the two of you to set up small safe houses in some of your settlements for any passing synths, although, he always ends up making them look like man caves than temporary homes.

He'll leave these random lanterns all over the place with little jokes or messages carved underneath them. He does this so that if he ever disappears for a minute, you can go look at those to remind yourself that he doesn't hate you, he just needs a bit of time.

Whenever you’re on a mission, he’ll give you both the worst codenames on purpose to annoy you.

He once tried to see what the most outrageous lie you both could pull off was. Needless to say, you both ended up getting in a lot of trouble with Dez because it was 'irrelevant to your mission’.

He's great when he's around, and still loves you when he leaves. In all seriousness, it's been so long since he's had a connection like this with someone, and is so incredibly grateful for you and all that you do for him. He'll show his appreciation in whatever way he can, just understand that you've got to be patient with him while he gets used to it all.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey! I love love love reading unrequited love, and although obvi their love is utterly mutual they don’t necessarily know that sooo

If you know any, could you recommend me some fics were Crowley is ‘pining’ for Azi?

They don’t need to have a happy ending where they get together (might even prefer without) but can do!

Anyways love ur blog tysm :)

These are hard to find! Most are not actually unrequited love. I found a few with hurt/no comfort, and a couple of longer ones where they do end up together in the end, but there is a lot of feeling unloved, pining, and angst before they get there.

i wanna fade away (with you) by Lilyofthevalley26 (G)

Armageddon had come, and Armageddon had passed. They didn’t have head offices to report to anymore. They were free agents. A new emotion joined the others in his chest. It felt like hope.

No Problem by LeotheLionathefootofOrion (M)

No problem, Crowley thinks. No problem at all. Anything for you. Even after two months of radio silence and not even a message on my birthday. No problem. - x - The whole friends with benefits thing really isn’t doing Crowley any favours.

Microcosms by oceantears (G)

“So, Alpha Centauri,” Crowley says, “you never did go there with me. Why? Jus’ not- Not wanting to stick it to Heaven? Still believing in the greater good and all? Not wanting only me for the rest of eternity, afraid you’d get bored of me?” It’s honesty and fear disguised as barely a jab, barely a joke, and they both know it. Crowley can call the stars into existence, but he cannot successfully hide 6,000 years of loneliness and longing and pain. Aziraphale only looks at him for a moment. If he tried, Crowley thinks helplessly, he could find constellations in the angel’s eyes. He could find another universe in them, one entirely untouched by God and Heaven and Hell. One that could be theirs, if only Aziraphale allowed it to be. “Neither,” Aziraphale finally says, “I just- I was afraid. And I… Well. I always found reaching for the stars a rather pointless endeavour when I already have everything I want right here.” Crowley takes a deep, shuddering breath and makes himself say it. Makes his tongue move and form those words they both know so well but have not had the courage to say out loud yet. “But you didn’t,” he forces out, “you didn’t want me. You still don’t.”

Attempts At Healing by alcyme (T)

Imagination can only get you so far. And then there are things not powerful enough to make it to reality. Like feelings of love. Time mends all wounds and that includes a broken heart. After all, what is healing than just reversing time. It would be a shame if The First Healer can’t even heal himself.

Crowley and His Army of Grandmothers by burnt_oranges (NR)

Crowley had impulsively stopped by Artisan Du Chocolate, the next place on Aziraphale’s meticulously ordered list of chocolatiers to sample, and now Crowley wonders--is it too much? He had bought a hundred fucking pounds’ worth of chocolate, of course it’s too much, but would Aziraphale notice that it was too much? That is the question.

Warmth by indigo (E)

Friends with benefits really had to be the very best solution there was for any self-respecting immortal being on Earth. Handy. Convenient. The perfect way to de-stress with none of the hassle of trying to find a human willing to overlook the more demonic parts of appearance. It was reliable. Comforting even. Dependable, emotionless relief. Perfect, Crowley thought. Right up until the point when, well, it wasn’t.

- Mod D

[notallangelsaregood]

My thoughts on Spy x Family Chapter 82

Needless to say, (some real serious) manga spoilers alert

Oh, boy, I'm gasping for air. I'm panicking, and I've not panicked this much about Spy x Family since Anya's last hijack incident (which my heart has not recovered yet). Mr. Endo, may you, please, pay my cardiologist bill? I'm not joking, I'm hyperventilating, and my chest is TU DUM, TU DUM.

The mole was discovered! Poor guy (or not, who knows?). I wonder what SSS will do to him. How far will the organization go? I believe we won't even know.

I'm seriously nervous for him. Twillight is used to things getting on his way, with minimum complications and this situation is definitely not it. Of course, he could figure things could go bad, since It's a really risky operation, however, I feel his frustration in not getting much time to secure the real wheeler.

Damn, my heart is not surviving till the end of this chapter.

Our man got ✨ The Skills ✨ Still, all this shooting is getting me pretty nervous. I'm immediately getting my anxiety meds. Endo, what the actual f-

Yeah, Twilight is The Man! Still, my hands are trembling and so is my apprehensive cardiac organ. This is sure to be qualified as torture.

He is quite wise disguising as Yuri. Haha, got it? I'm not okay, Christ.

Damn, Yuri is very intelligent, as well. The brains had to go to one of the Briar's, am I right? (Poor Yor, I love you, It's not personal. Bad comedy is my coping mechanism when I'm nervous. I'm so sorry!)

He is right about that. Twilight is nervous. And I wonder why. Maybe because there's more on this game than before? He is a father. A husband. He worries. He is not the same he was before, as much as he tries to convince himself that he is not attached to his fake family dynamics.

I can clearly imagine his thoughts racing. He's thinking about Anya, about Yor, about WISE, while trying to run and get these thoughts away from him in order to not commit mistakes, like leaving a footprint behind. Just saying.

Oh Yuri, you are so sweet, in a way. And you know absolutely nothing.

The panic™  on his face. Poor Yuri, I'm truly divided right here. See? I'm calmer, not panicking at all, this is certainly my clonazepam working.

Quick (but important) writer's note here, I'm actually diagnosed with intense anxiety and use prescribed medication, I joke about it, cause It's better to laugh than cry on the reality of my condition, however, never use anxiolytic/benzodiazepines drugs without valid prescription and conscience, it might cause long-term dependency and tolerance. My Pharmacy academic self felt the need to point this out. Moving on!

By the way, have you noticed the "waver"? Twilight is hesitating, deeply, which makes him more prone to aiming wrong. Haha, ha… I'm okay, I swear 😰

...

HOW THE FLOOF AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CHILL AFTER THIS, HUH?

Okay, two theories. I'm okay, I swear, my blood pressure is just fine.

Theory number 1. Twilight gets Yuri shot on some of his limbs, probably one of his legs, so our spy can buy time, run to encounter the others Wise's agents and hide. Gladly, he can aim just on the spot when no much damage is made to Yuri, even though the spy is extremely nervous. Twillight was totally not expecting to find him on that corner, and he knows that doing something so serious like UNALIVING HER WIFE'S BROTHER will tear her apart. Why else he would waver? He is the best spy of Westalis. He doesn't hesitate, but this is different.

Theory number 2. Which I believe is less likely, but still possible, Yuri gets our incredible Spy shot on some area of his body where the disguise falls off, and he realizes Twillight and Loid are the same person, but he does nothing about it, at least not for a while. Making him and the spy share this major secret for a while, due to numerous reasons, but mainly to protect Yor and take her out of her position as Loid's wife safely. But as I said, I find unlikely to Yuri shoot TwiTwi, even though the latter is quite nervous and might not dodge the shot. Besides the fact Loid has his arm aimed at Yuri first, while Yuri has his arm sideways, which gives Twilight an advantage in time.

Be sure to talk to me in the comments, I would love to hear what you guys think. Moving on to the last past of the chapter.

Lady Yor! Our grownup baby! She is still with the same outfit and hair down, so I assume it's late at night or afternoon, maybe Anya is already home or at a sleepover with Becky? Not sure.

Our poor girl is nervous due to Yuri filling her thoughts with the possibility of Loid cheating (which is dumb as floof, because he is a loyal boy) but still, even sober, Yor is worried. She cares about this family so much it probably hurts and confuses her. Her face on the left gave me chills, so much is going through her mind, almost if she senses something is wrong.

So. Much. Blood. I'm. Nervous. I. Can't. Breath. Properly. What. Was. This? Whose blood is this? (Not Yor's, I assume). I always count the days till the next chapter, but for this one, I'll be in severe mental pain until its release date. My mind racing like Yor's, wondering if Loid will come home late or come home at all.

I keep imagining scenarios where one of the boys gets shoot and the aftermath of that, Loid or Yuri at the hospital or being held by their organizations in order to get intel from them, Yor drying with worry, there are so many possibilities. This arc has been the most intense so far, for me, at least. I don't know how I will cope till June 26th.

What do you guys thinking? If my heart survived until now, yours will! Make sure to like, reblog and support my work here on Tumblr, I really appreciate it. Now I will rest, cause that chapter was (hell) difficult 🌹 (this post will be reviewed soon, so if you encounter any grammar or spelling mistakes, forgive my bilingual mess self)

[bitchy-peachy]

Advice Somewhat and Some Shit to Sensitive Haters Stalking My Posts

My area is getting ready for those wonderful Trump import tariffs.

A cheap deodorant in a local pharmacy that costed $3.45... Now costs $8.45. Saw it just this morning.

Yes, that's how local businesses are preparing for your totally-going-to-lower-prices Cheese Puff Papi's economic plan.

Pretty sure certain people will blame democrats for it but hey, republicans love to break it so democrats can fix it. I don't even know how this shitass party still gets votes but then I see its either rich people that get big tax cuts and brainwashed people that were unfortunately taken advantage of through disguised lies that vote for this crap.

Also including racists and phobes because that's another tier in this dumbfuckery cake of ignorance.

I want my mutuals to be ready for what's coming next year. I've lived long enough to know shit will get bad for everyone that makes under a certain level of money in their finance bracket.

I want you to buy stuff that's necessary before these businesses keep hiking up prices and I want you to be try to only use money for necessities. Even I have cut my budget in wait to see what happens next.

I'm somewhat ok financially (for now. Now I will have to recalculate everything with the potential and percentages of Trump's Tariffs looming over all of us) and unlike the 6 times bankrupted god, I know how to actually use and administer our finances without destroying my whole family and leaving us in the poor house.

I will probably have to write a guide at this point cos I even know survival skills after natural disasters as well as the banking system... A bunch of simple acquired knowledge that I never thought would be so necessary with what's coming up ahead.

This morning was a wakeup call and reminder that we need to take things seriously to prepare ourselves and our families. We'll need to save, stock up, be a little more frugal

I'm frugal af as it is until I have "fun funds" accumulated to finally relax. People think we only got to "survive" rather than actually "live". Don't ever let someone tell you you can't have nice things and good food and a good quality life just cos you are poor. Rich people act like our existence is to do cheap work for them while only eating stale bread and drinking contaminated water. They see everyone that isn't wealthy as part of their serfdom to do their bidding.

You deserve better.

Anyways, I'm rambling but right now... These times up ahead are a challenge even for me who has survived homelessness and natural disasters that lead to darkness for 6 months. I now feel like I'm in school again doing mathematical exercises and sorting to be ready for another terrible event looming up ahead (we never can catch a break, huh?)

I joke around a lot on here about maga getting what they voted for but the reality is that they're not the only ones getting effed up for them being so painfully stupid and completely lacking in basic critical skills when voting.

I want my mutuals that are in vulnerable situations to do everything to be safe. This is the best advice I can give for now because I sincerely want those that can be potentially affected to be mentally and emotionally ready. I'm here for my friends and even though I'm ranty I am still strangely at ease that we will as a community be fine.

On to another subject.

It's obvious to everyone that follows me that I despise maga. Especially with my relative ones that think I'm morally obligated to help them mitigate the consequences of their own actions. They can't even admit when they fuck up and can't handle confrontation with facts so I don't see a point in saving them. Considering how they voted, they really don't give a shit about me or my own family.

The help that was going for them will go for other people that are flying in next week that definitely need more help than my relatives. My relatives can ask Trump for help in their housing, medical bills etc since they spat on my help by endangering my entire family that falls almost into every category Trump wants to fuck up and make "illegal".

If I do this with actual blood relatives... Imagine what I do to strangers trying shit with me as if I owe them friendship, activism or my time.

I've been ranted at and blocked 5 times over the past week by maga that just can't handle shit I had to tell them. They also mostly approached me so they're the ones going around like the biggest Loser Winners on everyone that isn't pro Trump.

Most recent fun times was a loser calling me mentally ill (weird, cos I'm pretty sure the one that studied criminological psychology is me and not some unappealing mediocre male that reblogs naked women that will never fuck him) and after he raged he blocked me.

I'm online for fun and friends so I do act unhinged and unprofessional af. Why am I gonna bore myself online with a professional veneer (and before some useless maga tries get me "fired". I retired ages ago, sweetums. LOL) when I'm supposed to just relax on here?

I like explicit horror and cats, rats and bats. I write weird shit. I don't have to act like I'm at work all the time with proper diction and I'm not the only "shitlib" that is like this online. One of my best friends who plays horror games with me is surgeon and we both cuss like truckers and have slumber parties.

Meh.

Despite all this, I am appreciative of me, a retired old goth witchy lady, being fake diagnosed by someone with impressive 5th grade level knowledge. I gave easy to find facts and it somehow hurts people into calling me "retarded". I'm done being nice to your ilk and will be giving out just as much shit back as you have done to me.

There's nothing worse in an election than an uninformed voter in an echo chamber. You guys got fed your "facts" from echo chamber social medias and outlets. It's not my fault my factual words hurt you. It's your own for not waking up out of that propaganda induced coma. A lot of you don't even know what communism and social democracy actually are before calling everyone you don't like those things.

After these elections, I now know there's no helping you. You're too far gone and our side is truly packing up and leaving you behind. Blocking, avoiding... We are done as we should have been ages ago.

If you go low, I will go lower. Tired of only one side playing nice and getting trampled on and then you hypocritically clutching at your pearls at the slightest pushback.

We will be meaner and you deserve it. You had it coming. And I'm saying it nicely on here but I've called some yall literally fucking country destroying dumbfucks that actually hate everyone, including America. (that "patriot" some of you have on bio along with Christian crosses will never fail to make me laugh. You guys hate America so much you might as well wipe your ass with the flag. Well you already do put it to your genitals with the undies and swimsuit lines with flag print. Yikes)

But what do I know? I'm just a shitty lib (not really. A lot of libs hate me cos I'm pro guns and support answering violence with even more violence meh)

I don't hate to say "I told you so". In fact I love saying it now.

Now that both of these things are outta the way, I will relax and watch some horror movies in my list. Might live post some of them.

PS: To my haters... I have a statcounter on my blog. Stop being stupid.

[madamedevil]

I know I just posted the first chapter of another WIP and I do not have the time/mental energy to write two fics at the same time, but I’m thinking about this Case of the Haunted Cruise (Ghost)Ship idea again. It’s more vibes than plot right now but I’m going to ramble about it here in hopes it percolates into something actually useful:

The gang takes on a case on a cruise ship (what’s the case? Idk yet but something that seems straightforward like a kind of Scooby Doo-esque mystery on the surface but is actually a lot more sinister once you start digging). Charles and Edwin pose as a middle-aged married couple in their people disguises going on vacation with their dear teenage daughter, Crystal, and her bff Niko.

Charles immediately gets Way Too Into playing happy family. He never went on family holidays as a kid (or at least none that weren’t miserable). So he’s gone Full Vacation Dad Mode having the time of his (after)life—he’s laying out on the deck in board shorts ordering fruity drinks in fishbowls with tiny umbrellas that he can’t drink. He’s making friends with other middle-aged dads at the pool. He’s embarrassing Crystal left and right with corny dad jokes and socks with sandals. It seems harmlessly annoying at first but then it starts to get weird, like Charles really believes he’s a middle-aged dad on vacation with his family and not a teen ghost wearing a costume to go undercover while trying to solve a case (what case? He keeps forgetting about it.)

Edwin manages to be horribly seasick the entire cruise despite being a ghost. He’s clearly being cursed or something but he’s too nauseous and miserable to figure out why or who’s doing it or do anything but lie in bed wanting to die again. Crystal is all out of sympathy and fucks for him—something seriously spooky is going on and Charles has lost his marbles, Edwin needs to fucking do something. Edwin finally manages to emerge from their cabin in to assist, except Charles won’t even acknowledge his presence or remember who he is unless he’s also in disguise. He’s totally lost touch with reality and is now rapidly dragging Edwin with him in some kind of supernatural folie à deux. Crystal is soooo finished with these idiots, she might just push them both overboard, but she’s a professional detective so she’ll resist the temptation.

She and Niko have to solve the case on their own. I’m thinking it’s a Shining Overlook Hotel type situation where the ship itself is ~evil (once you get on, you never get off. Karaoke and all-you-can-eat buffets forever and ever and ever. Maybe it turns out allllll the other guests are ALSO ghosts but the ship makes everyone forget they died. Idk is that too bleak a reference? This was supposed to be a lighthearted crack-treated-seriously affair, but god knows I can’t resist a turn into horror.) ANYWAY—the cursed cruise ship has its hooks in Charles and Edwin—Crystal and Niko have to figure out how to free them and escape. Something, something, FIN.