#unedited rambling

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

It's wild because I have exactly one episode of Vampire Diaries left and I've been saving it since *checks blog* a little over a week ago (versus the six episodes a night I was watching back in season 1) and I keep telling myself I have to watch the ending if only so I know what I'm working with in fic but also I do want to see the return of Elena (and Katherine) but also I don't want to see Stefan die (or Damon and Elena in a flashforward apparently? How will they have time for all this, honestly?) but I do want to see how they manage to break the curse with Bonnie still alive (but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to write my fic without knowing) but I don't know. I'm notorious for not watching the last few episodes of shows I love (White Collar, Psych, Once Upon a Time, although that last I ragequit over many minor grievances with multiple seasons left so it's not really the same thing) but I keep telling myself that if you don't watch the end of a thing then you just have less of the thing that you love but like I turned the TV on to watch it just now and I'm actually so nervous? I both do and don't want to watch it so intensely, so I had to open up tumblr and blog about it. I could save it another week but I want to watch it before the intensity of my obsession starts to fade but I know this is going to hurt me, emotionally and profoundly. Maybe I can stretch it out to two episodes by stopping in the middle or something idk. But aaaaaaaaa I don't know I'm not ready but I feel like I have to watch it. Help me I don't know. I need some of you internet people to come over and watch this with me or something lol I don't know. I'm so nervous I'm not prepared but I don't want to put this off forever either. And once it's done I could start rewatching. But like, aaaaaaaaa!!

[tojisun]

hey what if golf dilf price met you at the club itself.

you're there as a bev cart girl and his friends were all like, "ah yes, the drinks here aren't really that good but there's that one sweet darling that makes them all so special which is why we keep buying them."

and john isn't like that. yeah he's old and divorced, and he's loaded as hell because he's got conglomerates and empires, but he's never been interested with women like that, especially those decades younger than him.

but then you came with your little cart and then john saw you in your pink and white cart uniform, and he realized he's just as bad as his friends.

so sure, whatever, give them six whiteclaws but—can you stay just a tad longer, sweetheart? can you give us a twirl? want to learn how to play?

[syoddeye]

ghost likes captive audiences.

or rather, he likes you.

the pretty shop girl who always has a smile for a brute like him. soft-spoken and sweet. he has no clue that it's simply part of the gig. that the polite act is just that. an act. he doesn't know that the small talk you exchange—how he's always tired and you're always broke—doesn't actually mean anything. he convinces himself you're into him. that despite the mask hiding the lower half of his face, you must be attracted to him.

so imagine his surprise when you pitch a fit after he acts on it. he doesn't understand. he waited until the shop emptied so as not to embarrass you. his offer is sound. take off your panties, put them in with his shopping, and he'll match whatever's in the till in cash. what? was he supposed to ask you to dinner first? it's disappointing to learn you're such a stuck-up brat. guess he'll have to sort you out and learn who you really are under that stupid apron.

[earthtooz]

ik ur in ur reo phase BUT HEAR ME OUT EARTH ONLY YOU CAN DO THIS

rin ACCIDENTALLY publicizing ur relationship bec mf got jealous as hell when ur face appeared in the kiss cam IN HIS GAME??????? WITH A RANDOM GUY AND WAS HE FUMING??? YOU AND I KNOW HE WAS THROWIN HANDS

thats all

I'M HEARING YOU OUT. warning for unrealistic scenario, i wrote this in like 20 minutes so it's unedited :p apologies for any mistakes.

imagine being rin's secret partner, the one he keeps behind closed doors because he values you too much to let the invasive eyes of the internet see. he values your relationship too much to let it get tarnished by social media, so he hides any affiliation with you like his life depends on it, only to come home and shower you with the adoration and affection he wishes he could show to the rest of the world.

in the spotlight, he is itoshi rin, japan's prized striker, their golden player, but when he's out of the spotlight, he is your lover. the man who drapes himself over you when things get too rough and he needs a breather. he is yours to cherish, where you have to change your phone wallpaper every other week because there's so many good photos of you two. he is yours to love, he is yours to go to when you feel too lonely, he is yours.

but also imagine, itoshi rin's jealousy and possessiveness no longer being able to rest at bay. it'd been accumulating for the past few weeks, this desire to show you off and boast that it's him who gets to know you like no other.

then the cup overfills, his jealousy tearing him by the seams that he loosely stitched together to withhold this carnal beast resting within him.

all because of a damn kiss cam.

you had been sitting in the vip section of the stadium- where special members are granted tickets, and even though you tell rin that it's fine for you to just sit in the general area, he refuses and tells you that he's bought you the ticket anyway. leaving you with no room for arguments. well. not that there was any to begin with.

anyways, you'd just so happen to sit next to someone who bought vip tickets with no affiliation with any blue lock members. you think he's just a die hard fan, so when he asks you if you like them, you lie and say that you won these tickets at a raffle.

the guy wasn't the most favourable person ever, in fact, you found yourself awkwardly responding to what he was saying, sometimes giving him short and succinct replies because of how... weird... he was. not to be disrespectful but you did not like his vibes. you just hope these 90 minutes can be over quickly.

yeah well, how funny is it that the kiss cam lands on you and the insufferable guy beside you?

you're mortified when you see it on the screen but the person beside you doesn't warrant the same reaction. immediately, he turns to face you, anticipation heavy on his features. in fact, he looks rather... excited...

"no, no, i have a boyfriend, i-" you begin abruptly as he leans in and you have no choice but to helplessly lean back, evading his lips and delaying it as much as you can. you even try rejecting him by frantically waving your hands, panicked and unsure of what to do.

until you hear him.

"back. the. fuck. off!" comes a shout from the pitch; the voice very familiar to your ears that you can't help but instantly relax from hearing it.

your seat was relatively close to the field which meant that those around you could hear the distinct voice of itoshi rin ripping through the air, fury evident and baring its fangs as he all but punches the barrier with each word.

however, everyone in the stadium could see itoshi rin as all cameras pan to him, witnessing his wrath as he shouts from the top of his voice. everyone around you is silent and you don't know whether you want to shrivel up into the ground or run to him and embrace him as tightly as you can. to find sanctuary in his warmth, away from the pushy guy who can't wrap his head around the idea that no means no.

itoshi rin decides for you, effortlessly jumping over the (considerably high???) barrier and making a beeline for you, skipping some stairs. thank goodness for a side seat because he comes to a stop before you, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he looks at you with heated passion, huffing and puffing.

"rin?" you whisper. he doesn't hear it, looking up at the various stadium screens to see if the kiss cams were still on you. smirking in satisfaction when he realises they are, rin all but pulls you up from your seat and kisses you with so much intensity and fervour that you feel lightheaded. very much so.

the stadium is cheering but you can't focus on it, not when rin's holding you to him so closely, practically trying to meld you to him. not even trying to push him away is enough to snap him out of whatever primal instinct has taken over him, so you grab his face and jerk away from him, not wanting to get too carried away.

before you can utter a word, rin looks behind you, and the coldness in his expression says everything you need to know.

he doesn’t care about dignity at this point. he just needed the world to know that you were his.

"you're dead if you try that again, you lukewarm fuckface," he then turns to you. you shiver from the intensity of his gaze. "i'll kill him next time," he promises before hugging you close to him once again, practically glaring at the cameras. "i'll kill anyone who tries to get to close."

THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON would u believe me if i said i'd been waiting for an opportunity like this? well i'm speaking the truth and i'm so glad u gave me the opportunity i've been waiting for AYEEEEEEE COME BACK ANY TIME YOU ARE SO WELCOME ON THE EARTHTOOZ BLOG, PRETTY <33

—

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[claritys-silly-things]

Greaser gang hcs I have:

- (modern) The entire gang would SOOO watch South Park you can't convince me otherwise

- (sorta modern ig I don't remember the context to this) *scene kids your outsiders*

- Everyone has a stuffed animal or two or ten they just won't admit it (inspiration from kotlc)

- Ponyboy can't handle horror movies, Johnny LOVESSSS them. He just sits there like :D

- Soda Steve and dally get very squeamish during horror movies but try to hide it

- Darry likes horror movies

- Twobit could care less what's on (can handle horror movies, doesn't like them) (he wants to watch Mickey Mouse 😟😟)

[wanderingblindly]

Landoscar didn't interact much on the podium tbh. Oscar looked pretty lost until he started spraying Charles with champagne because Lando immediately dove in and sprayed the guy Ferrari sent up to receive the constructor's trophy. Sorry to (potentially) send you down a spiral </3

Allow me to, as is now my role in this community apparently, gentle parent my dash about this hahahahahhaahha

The appeal of landoscar is the fact that Lando and Oscar are so evenly matched despite being wildly different. Where Lando draws a lot from his emotional volatility, Oscar drives from a place of carefully controlled technical execution. It’s the balance that’s compelling, both in fantasy relationship ways and on the track, but it’s also the cause of tension. Lando’s going to be emotional when it doesn’t go his way. Oscar’s not going to be apologetic for being correct.

But, more importantly, what’s most interesting is that they find ways to patch it up. We see Oscar try to offer olive branches (making a joke about Lando breaking his trophy before the champagne started), and we see Lando bristle. We see Lando offer an olive branch (calling Oscar ‘Osc’ and taking accountability in post-race media) and Oscar barely acknowledging it.

It’s a back and forth. As with a lot of their dynamic, it’s a back and forth. So like, this is part of what makes further relationship growth interesting — putting them at each others throats and seeing what happens.

Again: they’re fine! They’re hyper competitive grown adults who operate on levels of adrenaline and dedication we can’t even begin to understand — they’re fine!

[l4long-winded]

So this is somewhat inspired by the other anon about Carmy with the girl he can’t believe chose him. Maybe on a bad day, he’s just asking her why she’s with him and hes listing his bad traits and after every one she’s saying“I love you” until he stops. My man needs love, I want him so bad 😭😭

it's a culmination of it all. the piling stress from work, from this incessant need to prove himself, grief he has yet to fully process, capricious thoughts vying for his attention, exasperated expressions continuously staring daggers his way as if he's not running around without a sense of what he's doing, despite his brain instructing him this is the right path, while his heart isn't in any of it. he's having trouble breathing, to which you're there because you're always there for him at times like this as he's grasping at his chest, protecting it, and shielding it in case his rapid heart pounds its way out of his ribcage.

when he turns his head and observes the concern in your face mixed with the calming energy he really doesn't fucking deserve, his world tilts. the onslaught of it all shifts into his doubts, his insecurities, pointed at him with veracity he believes is consuming him the longer he stares. overwhelmed with emotion and panic, his fears surrounding you bloom full on his skin, thickening petals and branches crushing into the crevices of the veins in his arms and neck.

you could do better. so, so much better. you're not supposed to be here with carmen. he's kept you to himself, a caged bird he can't bother to let go of when you'd sing with access to the sky and new horizons ahead.

"i'm-i'm a fuckin' mess," he blurts, "what are you doin' here? with me? out of everyone?"

it's hard to decipher how heavy his words are when he's panting and his voice is close to cracking. it's as if he wants the answers to his question, but he's far too afraid of confirming the vicious betrayal of his doubt. he's convinced he doesn't sound ridiculous.

"because i love you."

"i-i-i fuck things up. i'll fuck you up. m'gonna ruin you and and and y-you're gonna hate me one day, n'won't blame you for a second-" he sputters, his words mashing together, strings of linguistics that don't sound like proper english. his mouth keeps opening and closing to release these incoherent ramblings, his ears bubbling with alarm bells.

"carm, i love you."

"i'm not right. i'm not fuckin' crazy," he gasps, "but i'm no good f'you. for anyone. not for my family, or, or, or my friends, if i fuckin' even have any at this point." his throat is tightening up, eyes shutting, the memory of you planted firmly behind his straining eyelids. he can't breathe.

"bear, listen, i love you so much."

"fuck, fuck, fuck this, fuck me, fuck everything, fuck the fucking restaurant, fuck, fuck, f-fuuuck it all—"

carmen flinches feeling your warm hands steady themselves on his cheeks. his lips and eyelids part, meeting your gaze. you're standing there in front of him, the combination of concern and calm remaining, as well as an affinity he will never, ever be able to understand. something about it soothes him, his breathing still ragged, but he inhales and exhales steadily out of the habit of this. it's not the first time this has happened, where he's so out of his mind that only few can pull him out before he's drowning in it. he shifts his face towards your palm, opting to press his lips against it. he should focus on breathing, but this action grounds him, muffling his worries, smothering them with the scent of your body lotion and the soft texture of your skin.

"i love you, carmen," you whisper. he hears you this time. the roar of his head dwindles down, fading in favor of hearing those words come off your lips again. he suddenly realizes how long you've been saying it while he was busy berating himself aloud with the secrets he buries deep inside.

he thinks he's going to say more shit if he tries to respond. this kind of thing has always been hard for him. pressured into it at times by his family, their defensive nature yanking it out of him by cutting at him and having it bleed out instead of nurturing it until it slips and that's all he can think about like it does with you. it spills like an inkwell. dripping over his skin. more permanent than the tattoos he's accumulated.

he nods. it's a slow and gradual thing, but he's accepting it. he wants desperately to say it back, but his lips shake with the threat of spewing more of the poison rattling in his lungs. he just keeps nodding, eventually hiding his head into your neck, lulled by the repetition of those beautiful, pacifying words.

"i love you, it's okay, breathe for me, i love you."

you love him. he's a mess and you love him. he's convinced he's going to hurt you, but you love him.

his arms tighten around you. he's positive you're capable of being better off without him, but he's not letting you go. he loves you too much to do that. he'll tell you later when he can breathe and when you inevitably render his thoughts into mush, replacing them with devotion, reassurance, and structure. yeah. yeah, he can do that. even if it's painfully obvious to everyone and you already know.

[horsemeatluvr23]

the juppet !! i just realised he is jerma posing i swear that was unintentional...... i spent so long digging thru muppet concept art and looking at old puppet designs just to end up doing a rly simple drawing but. i love joehills!! i have only been watching them for like 4 years but their videos r so special to me :3

[mothiir]

LMFAO all i can imagine now is lion so lost in the sauce eating her out hes reverted mentally to an actual lion on an antelope carcass, bro growling n shit when she tries to like shift away like NO this is mine DONT YOU FUCKING MOVE

this is beautiful and totally true. please enjoy the following fic snippet, which occurs the same night as the first one, because the lion does not fuck around.

cw: slight dubcon, size kink, slight gore.

Even when ensconced between your thighs, his tongue buried inside your cunt, the Lion is terrifying.

It starts out promisingly enough. He licks into you, sloppy and eager, enthusiasm winning out where his skill lacks (the fact that his tongue is large enough to lash across your clit each time by sheer chance helps), and before you have quite registered what is happening he’s wrung an orgasm from you. Your body convulses, your breath quickens, and you mewl helplessly. You swear you feel the Lion smirk against your soft flesh — but you cannot imagine the Primarch doing something so human, so petty.

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe this is all a fever dream.

The problem is that he keeps going. He sucks and licks and when you — quite against your better judgement — start rocking your hips against his face, he purrs. “That’s it,” he rumbles approvingly, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Like that. Open yourself for me, little whore.”

Whore — oh the fucking nerve of it. The cheek! You had a respectable job and a decent life, and actual wages, and then he stole you and if anything you are less than a whore because you are about to get fucked for free —

He sucks on your clit — more accurately, he sucks on the upper half of your cunt — but semantics don’t matter because holy fucking hell — the world shatters, you shatter, everything is warm and visceral and your cunt is one twitching nerve, pulsing in time with the Lion’s relentless lapping.

“Stop — wait — stop — “ you slur, trying to squirm away; the Lion growls, a truly bestial sound that has your stomach curdling, and you freeze. He pulls you back onto his face.

“Mine,” he snaps. “Stay.”

“My lord —“

The Lion’s snarl echoes up your spine, distracting you enough that you don’t see his teeth close on the meat of your thigh until it is too late. Not that you could have stopped him biting you, of course. You might just have got a bit of warning. You stare as his fangs sink in, as blood bubbles, and for one icy moment time slows to a syrupy crawl. His eyes meet yours. His pupils are swollen black and huge, like a cat about to strike.

And then, all at once, time returns to its usual pace, and your body shrills in pain. You choke down the warm scream filling your throat, staring wild-eyed at the Lion/

He’s really switching from eating pussy to eating pussy, isn’t he? A dry, hysterical giggle escapes your lips at your own stupid joke. The Lion’s eyes drift half closed, and he releases your thigh, licking at the blood spilling from the wound. Not as much as you feared — a trickle, not a flood — but still more than you would like.

The Lion utters that strange rumbling sound again, nuzzling his blood-sticky maw against your thigh; his expression is dreamy, almost peaceful. “Delicious,” he sighs, and licks again. “Tasty tasty mortal, and all mine…”

Another lick. Then he freezes, and it is like the gears turn in his skull. You swear you hear them grind. He clears his throat, and mops his face on the back of his hand, trying to gather some dignity.

“…anyway. Right. That aside — where were we?”

[brighteststar707]

To enter Saeyoung's study is like getting the smallest peek at the inside of his mind. He has never been one to try to put everything in his mind down on paper - it's too vulnerable, you see. It's not as messy as you had expected it to be at first (though it's by no means tidy, though).

Even in its tidiest state, you can spot little details that give you some more insight into his mind and habits: the little cross indentations on the surface of his desk where he absentmindedly dug his nails into the soft give of the wood. The chips in the paint where his box cutter nicked the desk. The overlapping marks of hot mugs placed down without a coaster. The tiniest little mark of your initial on the far corner (that he blushed at the first time you pointed out - a momento from the CCTV days).

This changes the second he takes on a project, especially one of those good ones that you know is going to be a marvel. That's where the corkboard comes in. And the whiteboard. And the wall.

At some point, he seems to have given up on having a dedicated space for his ideas and allowed them to encroach on his space.

When he's in one of these frenzies, you step into the study and find the walls covered in different sticky notes and papers with equations, find the whiteboard covered in diagrams you can't make sense of (and strange annotations to boot). The desk is strewn with more bits of paper and the beginnings of whatever he's trying to build.

Then, once it's all done, the study is restored. The blueprint is made, the doodles and calculations aren't needed anymore. Everything gets tidied and the wall reappears.

You used to spend the early days in there with him most of the time. Either curled up in Vanderwood's chair next to him or tucked up close to him on his lap. You can't count the amount of times you fell asleep to the sounds of him tapping on his computer keys and the soft humming under his breath. They're some of your best memories from that difficult time.

Then, later on, you found yourself bringing your work into the room with you just so you could be busy next to each other. He'd clear a corner of the desk for you and leave you little sticky note messages when you weren't looking.

This habit of yours was what led to him surprising you with your very own desk on the opposite wall of his study - an anniversary present. He still leaves you sticky note love letters and little origami creatures to keep you company. Then, sometimes, for posterity's sake, he'll pull your chair up to his desk so you can relive the old days.

While the room is still mainly his, knowing that he has made space for you in what once used to be his hideout from the world has been one of the best gifts he has given you so far (and he has given you so many).

[sunshinechay]

So I finally caught up on My Stand In after being 3 episodes behind due to irl reasons.

The last three episodes have been a lot and while I’m sad to have missed the weekly discussions, I’m also kind of glad I watched all three at once because it gave me the opportunity to get to watch Ming’s progress rapidly rather than waiting (which my ADHD brain is very happy about) and the one thing really stuck with me through all three episodes.

Of the three who knows Joe is Joe, Ming is the only one to figure it out completely on his own. He doesn’t overhear anything, he isn’t told by anyone. Even the priest (is that what he is? Citation needed) won’t give Ming the straight answer he seeks. Joe is neither dead nor alive but a secret third thing, his soul has transmigrated to another body entirely.

Before, when he didn’t know, we got the small kernels of change. Ming is much more straight forward than he used to be. While he was never one to mince words, he is more truthful and up front, even with Joe 2.0. He is honest with him from the start about exactly what he wants. He doesn’t tell Joe the real reason why he wants it, but that’s understandable given that no one else is willing to believe Ming when he says Joe is still alive. So why tell this new stand in why you want him to be so.

Then he figures it out. He puts together the context clues and believes the impossible because he’s the only one who never gave up hope that Joe would come home, would come back to him. Joe does come back to him and Ming immediately sets out to ensure that Joe exactly where he stands in terms of how Ming feels about him. Ming needs Joe to understand exactly what he wants. Ming is probably always going to be the type of person who will use underhanded tactics in certain situations, but it’s completely understandable why he uses the contract to keep Joe with him.

Ming offers up explanations where Joe didn’t ask for them, because he knows that Joe deserves them, whether or not he asks for them. He wants Joe to understand that he regrets a lot of his past actions, including what he did for Tong at the end. Ming had all but admitted that if he could go back and change it, he would.

Ming is willing to confront so many issues head on. He is learning to deal with his emotions in a way that is more productive for them all. He has started to feel more of his emotions out loud in a way he didn’t before. He promised himself he would change if Joe ever came back and so far he has kept his promise. He will better himself and he will grow. He will no longer be stagnant.

He is even willing to tell his father that he is dating Joe. The mere mention of it clearly terrifies him more than he has the words to express, something that Joe picks up on right away and tries to protect both of them from. Preemptively breaking up with Ming to try and save them both a worst heartbreak than simply breaking up.

Tong had spent so much of the show attempting to prove again and again that Ming is under his thumb. He knew that Ming was in love with him in the past and still believes he is now, but he is wrong. Ming will no longer allow himself to be manipulated by Tong and by extension his mother. So he will shoot their ace out of the sky by doing the one thing that terrifies him the most. He will tell his father that he is gay. That he is gay and dating a man. A man named Joe.

He will accept what comes next because the only other options is to lose Joe and Ming absolutely will not do that for a second time. He is willing to lose everything, as long as it means he doesn’t lose Joe.

[creeps-and-pasta]

Laughing Jack spent 13 years locked away, never knowing if he was going to escape. As each day went by he was forced to become familiar with the concept of eternity, the idea that this might last forever. It was quite possible he would spend forever trapped inside that box.

I think Jack has never spoken about his past to anyone. Why would he? Who would he tell his story to? Jack looks back on his former self with disgust, with hatred for a creature innocent and naive and loving enough it would willingly let itself be trapped.

Jack wraps himself in the chains of his past and drags it with him everywhere he goes. He thinks it's a necessary precaution. He can't afford to forget or forgive what happened, because he's terrified of getting hurt again. Jack has to hate humans because what if love makes him naive again?

Jack doesn't tell anyone about Isaac. But there is not a day that goes by he doesn't think about the boy he was built to love.

Because if he stops thinking about Isaac, if he stops remembering Isaac, then no one else will. Jack is the only person left alive who knows of Isaac Grossman. And if no one is left to remember him, did he ever really exist? Does a man die when his last breath leaves his lungs or when his name is uttered for the last time?

He was with Isaac for 3 months, and the grief lasted 200 years. Jack is no longer in his box, but he's still trapped by his self-imposed suffering

Jack was built to love Isaac. He was built to love humanity. And he learned to hate it instead. Or maybe he learned that suffering is good, that pain is happiness. Isaac taught him that. Isaac was taught that, by his father and his mother.

Maybe when Jack killed Isaac, it was his last love letter to his dear friend.

Or maybe he just hated the fucking guy, I don't know. I don't think Jack knows sometimes, either.

[tojisun]

in a way, simon believes that your first time should be shared. it’s not really a kink nor a fetish, just that. well.

you’re his captain’s favourite.

see, simon’s never had a ‘good’ roster of dates. they’ve always burned faster than what he wanted; and he’s learned that oftentimes, physical compatibility means nothing when they would rather fight him about the weight of his secrets than trust that simon’s disappearance isn’t because he’s out cheating.

price had never really liked any of them; he’d always given the same reaction whenever simon swung by to introduce them to him—lips pursed, a single thick eyebrow cocked, before letting out a slow sigh through his nose.

sure, he’d be cordial and kind, faux smile easing up simon’s dates into a quiet stutter because you don’t have to be military to feel the drags of price’s scrutiny. but simon knew what price didn’t say—he was not pleased with them. hell, he was not even wowed, not by that brunette with a trimmed waist nor by that scholar with soft lips.

and simon’s learned to trust price more than himself so the breakups follow not soon after.

then, you came along.

you’re pretty and smart and kind to a fault, and simon felt like he was on something unsteady because it felt too good to be true. you felt too good to be true. too understanding of simon’s cross, of his silence and his secrets. too patient even when simon struggles to be honest with you.

too beautiful for him to hold back.

so he brought you back home—home was wherever his squad were—and introduced you to his mates. garrick and mactavish were swayed into your gravitational pull, leaving them to paw at each other with your name pressed between their lips like maybe if they did it that way, they would be able to take a taste of you.

it was surprising, sure, especially when one knows how achingly possessive they are for each other, but it was price that was shocking the most.

perhaps it’s the way you returned his banter with a level of honesty or maybe it was the way you had eyed him with the same hunger that burned within simon or maybe it was the ease in the way you folded into yourself in front of john like you knew what it meant to be before him. to be presented to him. whatever it was, it led to john giving simon his approval, crooned directly into his lieutenant’s ears like simon had just successfully completed a mission entrusted to him by price. like simon had just proved himself to their captain.

like price was finally, truly, proud of him.

so, in return, it’s just right to share your first time with simon—your first time with anyone, for that matter—with price, isn’t it? honour his approval by giving him proof that you and simon have done good in fostering your relationship.

(your nose curls, fury building up in your chest. “that’s not how it works, si.”

but simon is stubborn and he’s not listening, and—

the doorbell rings. simon perks up like a damn puppy. and— oh.

oh.

he needs his captain there. it’s—

you’re not the show. you’re not who’s going to be watched. it’s simon.

huh. well then, you’re not really opposed to it now, actually.)

[syoddeye]

cw: noncon/dubcon, mean price, theft, smidgen of a daddy kink, spanking, vaginal fingering.

neighbor price who beats someone to the communal laundry one afternoon.

he waits ten minutes for the irresponsible do-nothing before giving up. he intends to dump their dry clothes on the floor and grouses as he reaches into the machine. instead, he grabs a handful of lacy unmentionables, freezes a moment, and then decides there's a better way to impart a lesson.

he doesn't typically loiter while his wash goes, there's always something that needs doing on his precious few days off. but it's worthwhile when he hears feet on the stairs a quarter of an hour later, followed by a sharp gasp.

he looks up from his phone, smirking as a pretty thing gawks at the stacks of neatly folded laundry, her panties on top.

her gaze flicks from him to her clothes to him again. sputtering, eyes wide and glassy with panic and embarrassment.

"i recommend an alarm," he drawls when she hurriedly begins to gather her belongings. he doesn't move a muscle, making her step into his space. watches her shiver from his breathing hitting her neck.

"lovely as your things are, i'm not your maid. i'm not your father."

she scuttles to the stairs, hissing some inconsequential jab, but he's the type of man who needs the last word.

"i'll keep these as payment for sorting your clothes. you want them back, come to unit 231."

he holds the pair aloft, pinching it by the gusset.

of course, she makes the mistake of thinking she'll get her panties back unscathed. she swallows her pride and, to her credit, asks nicely. he can't let it go, though; he needs to ensure his warning sinks in. he spanks her arse raw, gagging her on his fingers until she promises never to be so careless again. she sniffles as he lectures her on the dangerous men who live in their building.

after wiping her tears, he hoists her onto his lap and stuffs the stolen underwear into her mouth. he hooks his chin over her shoulder and snakes an arm around her waist before cramming a hand down her shorts to play. he patronizingly orders her to show him she knows how to set an alarm on her phone and clicks his tongue when it's obvious she does.

he sinks a finger to the first knuckle and hums a breathy, "what am i gonna do with you?" as if he doesn't already know the answer. as if this'll go any other way now that he knows she's delinquent and impetuous. there is one thing he has a nose for—a deficit in discipline. he cannot abide it.

[l0cal-catb0y]

Hero!Ghoap x God!Reader brainrot

Had some insane brainrot while listening to music, this is going to be word vomit but like, i have to share it w/ yall and i didnt read this back so it may be a lil wonky (first cod post too wow) idk man its bad but whatever

Reader being a lesser known god who only has a few shrines and a tiny group of worshippers and hero!ghoap being incredibly well known and strong fighters who stumble across one of your shrine while looking for a place to rest. maybe it's abandoned or something but while theyre resting they investigate you and your history and end up leaving you some offerings for letting them have safety while healing up. Maybe you get a little excited cuz the heros all the gods are talking about are leaving you gifts!! just for being kind!! hehe you send them a sign that you are watching over you and helping them as much as you can even after they leave your shrine to continue their journey <33 you only have a few followers so you can actively pay attention to ghost and soap unlike the other gods who are so so busy. Ghost notices first that youre always watching over them when he starts seeing your associated animals and plants everywhere they go (can be whatever you want but im picturing a type of bird) and ghost feels unsure if its actually you but after it becomes a pattern he points it out to Soap who had a feeling they were being tailed as well. Now they start gathering little trinkets after their battles and leaving them in places that remind them of you like flower fields or by rivers. I feel like soap would become such a devoted follower so quickly while ghost is still a little wary, he doesnt know your intentions and there is barely any information about you out in the world. I think a few weeks or months later ghost would join soap in being one of your most devoted followers. I feel like they would create you an altar near where you live or move closer to the original shrine they discovered you at <33

also thinking about how they would react if you disappeared, specifically a war broke out between the gods and you get gravely injured and in a panic descend to earth by the boys' shrine before passing the fuck out. just the boys showing up to leave offerings but seeing you bleeding out on the altar, they both rush to you can try to stabilize you the best they can from experiences when patching each other up,,, once they clean you up they bring you back to their home and placing you in their bed, they sit next to you discussing what the fuck happened and who they have to hurt to get you justice.

maybe ill write more later but yeah hope yall liked my mess of an idea

[quuma]

i feel like everyone and their mother has spoken about this before but james potter is 100% the biggest puppy bf i've ever witnessed in literature !! like bro has MAXIMUM puppy dog stats

he's the kind of bf to INSIST UPON carrying your textbooks/bags for you and escort you to your classes class,,, like he would literally REFUSE to not do either of them,,, he gets so worked up about it that it's actually kind of pathetic (in a cute way),,,

you wouldnt even be able to carry them for 5 mins in his presence before he's scooping them out of your arms ("james i quite obviously have two perfectly functioning hands just let me hold my books pls" and his completely serious response would be "but im your bf??? and my hands are also free rn??? it's literally my job to hold your books just stfu and let me")

continuing the escorting headcanon he always ends up having to sprint to off to try and make it to his own class in time BDAHBFDH as soon as you retreive your books and walk into the classroom you try to look back and thank him,,, but there's literally just a cartoonish cloud of smoke where he stood not even 5 seconds prior (he insists that it's a good warmup for his quiddich practice)

he's also the kinda bf to literally SHOVE himself in front of you to beat you to the door, just so he can open it, dramatically wave his hand, bow, and say something cringey like "for you, my lady/liege" (BARF THATS SO CUTE IM LITERALLY GOING TO THROW UP)

OMG ALSO HE'S JUST INSANELY OBSERVANT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU????? to the point where it would be considered creepy if it wasnt james,, yknow?? there was definitely a time where upon meeting you at the door of the potions class you just finished (yes he is flushed, out of breath and sweating,,, no, he isnt going to admit that he sprinted from his C.F.M.C class 5mins early to make sure he met you at the door in time) and he does a double take and looks genuinely concerned before saying "???? pookie??? what happened to your hair???? did you do something different?? it looks different from when i saw you this morning !! D:" queue you responding with "?? wtf? i cut off a singular strand of hair for one of the potions how the actual fuck did you notice that??"

he is so babygirl i love it

i swear im not even a james stan but i can't help but ramble abt his bbygirlness

hes such a puppy dog bf

he just has the biggest heart eyes for you bro ( -3-) follows you around like a lost puppyyyyy

you dont just have him wrapped around your finger - you have him tattooed and superglued onto you istg