#when i was a teenager again and i was fighting for my fucking life against what i didnt know was mental illness and i had no outlet and

[phagodyke]

venting sorry... don't want to just delete it bc it helps to get it out just ignore this post pls 👍

haven't slept much at all and feeling so sick andstressed and in pain bc my period is due and so tired its making me dizzy but i cant sleep more or ill just feel more sick and I want a hug and to cry so hard into someones shoulder but no one cares or will even come near me it makes me feel diseased they think things about me that aren't true bc I struggle so much to communicate and thry all make assumptions insteqd and no one wants to give me space to talk to them about it so I cant undo that now and its all my fault and I'm so. exhausted :-(

[mrshowlettsgarden]

The Day We Met - Logan Howlett: the one where Logan meets reader the day he arrives at the X - mansion

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, flirty; this is loosely base off of the first xmen movie

─➭ note: welcome to my first post! I'll start taking requests! (prompt list)

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Logan Howlett definitely didn’t welcome the invitation of practically being kidnapped by a couple of freaks in black and loud leather suits. The teenager he was with in the car accident, Rogue, did though because she found a place to call home and Logan? Well, he claimed he didn't need one to the Professor as he introduced himself and the others to Logan. But Charles made a bargain with Logan.

“While you stay here, Dr. Grey and I will help regain the memories you had lost,” Charles said calmly. 

A dirty look was seen on Logan’s face when the bald man said that. “Now why would I let you or her get into my head, huh?” he scowled at the Professor and Jean, who was protectively standing behind him. 

“You never wondered where you got the name the Wolverine from?’ Charles asked as he nodded towards Logan’s dog tags, “We can help you, Logan. You can move on from cage fighting and stay here.” 

A scoff slipped from Logan’s lips as he anxiously looked around Charles’ office almost looking for an out from this stupid conversation. He gave up the idea of figuring out where he came from years ago or at least he thought he did. Of course he wondered where he got his dog tags from and that’s all he’s ever known for as far as he can remember. But he needed to move on from those thoughts or at least forget the fact that he can’t ever regain his memories again. 

Letting out a deep breath Logan looks back at Charles and thinks for a bit longer. What if the Professor can actually help him? What if this is his only chance at figuring out who he is and how he came to be? Can any of these damn geeks actually help at all?

Fuck this bullshit…

“Fine,” Logan snaps against his own thoughts, “But the second shit goes sideways and I don’t like it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He points his finger at the Professor. 

Charles smiles and moves towards the door, “Perfect. Now come while I show you around your new home.” 

Logan can’t count how many times he’s scoffed since he woke up in this new place. He reluctantly follows Charles and gives a dirty look to Scott or Cyclops before he leaves the room. Scott sighs as he looks back at Jean and then Ororo, also known as Storm, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble while he stays here.”

“Everyone is troubled when they first start off here, Scott,” Storms says with a smile as she walks out of the room.  

Jean smiles too as she walks towards her fiancé and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek, “You were nothing but trouble too.”

Scott rolls his eyes as he follows Jean out. “I wasn’t even that bad.”

”You blew up Charles' tree.”

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Logan and Charles made their rounds around the mansion. From classrooms to the bedrooms and as well as the laboratories similar to the one Logan first woke up in. As they walked, Charles shared that this place was a school and a home for mutants, mainly youngsters who are trying to navigate the hardships of being a mutant and having mutant powers all while trying to live a normal life as humans do at their age. Charles also shared that Rogue has the choice to stay and rejoin the world as an educated mutant if she so wishes.

“Most of the adults here were my earlier students who are now teachers. I also teach physics throughout the week,” Charles shared.

“Yeah, well I ain’t about to teach shit while I’m here either,” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“No,” Charles lets out a soft chuckle, “But you will be subbing for those who are away and cannot attend their class. Call it your payment while you stay here.” Logan couldn’t get a word in to talk back as Charles moved ahead of him towards a couple of double glass doors that lead outside, “Now for the backyard.” The professor opens a set of doors with his mind and leads Logan to the balcony that oversees the property. 

“This is a backyard?” Logan questions with a raised eyebrow as looks around the massive green field and trees decorating the property. There’s a fountain ahead of them both and if he looks further there is a trail that leads to a pond further back. There’s students running around on a basketball court. Some are sitting in the grass reading or talking. He also sees a small farm to his right and swears he can smell horse shit from where he’s standing. “The hell is this place…”

 Ignoring Logan’s comment he takes him further into the yard onto a cemented path. “You’ve so far met Storm, Scott, and Jean but we have another Professor here who enjoys spending her time outside so she wasn’t part of your welcome party,” Charles says as he leads Logan towards a glass greenhouse.

Logan looks up and around the huge building and immediately notices the green vines and various plants surrounding the perimeter of the glass walls. He almost guesses that it’s a two-story building with how high the roof is and he’s not even inside yet. “Lemme guess, she’s got a green thumb for powers,” Logan scoffs with assumption behind his tone. 

Charles laughs as they walk towards the double doors, “Something like that,” he says.

And before they even reached the door, two brown branches covered in leaves on both sides of the door began to move towards the door handles. Logan’s eyebrows furrow on high alert as he watches the branches turn the handles to open the doors for the two of them to enter. After both doors open, Logan is greeted with the greenest view he’s ever seen. While it’s not a two-story building like he thought, the high ceilings were a matching height with trees set up around the huge room.It’s like he walked into a second backyard. He can see and smell the collections of plants and flowers filling his senses as he and Charles walk further into the greenhouse. 

And as the further they walk the more Logan can see different landscapes that he assumes correlate the plants to where they’re originally from. He follows the professor as he makes a turn to their left around a hedge to a research area decorated with science equipment and desks for the students. 

“Professor?” a soft female voice calls out anxiously, “Why is everyone telling me there’s a wolverine running around the mansion?” Logan hears Charles softly laugh at the question. “If there’s an actual animal running around, I don’t know how to feel about that because everyone is stressing me out about being eaten!”

There’s a concerned tone in the voice and Logan nearly rolls his eyes at the woman’s thought of him being the animal “running around” and him “eating” them. Before he can bark out a snarky comment, you come around a different corner of a group of plants with a watering can in your hands. Logan cannot deny the fact he almost lost his breath at the sight of you. But he shook the fluttering feeling away before it settled in his chest. 

“Oh!” you say in surprise and pure embarrassment as you see the professor and the “animal” you were stressing about standing tall and intimidating behind Charles’ wheelchair. You really want to slap yourself with the watering can for believing the damn plants about being eaten by a wolverine. 

Charles smiles as he moves closer to you. “No, my dear. No animal,” he speaks softly to you, “This is Logan. The Wolverine that your friends were warning you about.”

You feel your body heat up with more embarrassment while you nervously laugh at the professor’s words. But the nervous smile you were holding went away in a split second as you locked eyes with a pair of scowling hazel ones across from you. You shy away from the dirty look Logan was giving you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, “If I knew you weren’t an actual wolverine, I wouldn’t have called you an animal… That was very rude for them to say that about you.”

“Them?” Logan questions with a slight attitude.

“The plants,” Charles says like a proud father would sound as he turns himself towards Logan who stood locked in his place, “Logan, this is Dr. Y/n L/n. She teaches biology to the students here in the greenhouse.” 

Logan hums as his eyes study your face and he sees that you move your gaze away from his and it makes him smirk. “So, your mutation is making friends with plants?” he chuckles as he looks at his surroundings.

You look back at him with a slight frown at the overused assumption about your powers. “I can move and grow plants at my own will,” you sigh out with a disappointed look in your eyes but you carry a neutral face, “Communicating with the plants is a bonus…” Logan looks back at you after you answer and sees the disappointing look in your eyes and he starts to feel bad for trying to pick fun at you. 

“I was giving Logan a tour of the property. He will be staying with us for a while,” Charles says as he notices the soft look Logan's holding as he looks at you. With a knowing smirk he turned his full attention to you and you looked back at him, “Y/N, why don’t you continue the tour for me and show Logan his room? I sense that Jean is requesting my presence back in the lab,” he lies through his teeth as he sends you a picture of one of the vacant rooms for Logan from his mind.

Not knowing the real hidden reason for making you finish the tour for him, you nod your head with an understanding look. “Will do, Professor,” you say in a gentle tone. 

Charles moves away from you and past Logan going back toward the doors, “I will see you two for dinner.”

And with that Charles left and silence took over the air between you and the bruting man standing across from you. “Um, well let’s take you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” you say as you put the watering can on top of the table next to you. Logan nods as he begins to follow behind you to leave the garden. 

As he follows you towards the door, Logan sees you raise one of your hands as green like dust form from in between your fingers and with a wave of your fingers he feels something shift in the room. He turns around back towards the greenhouse and sees the branches and vines move to close down the lamps illuminating the gardens in the room then he hears the sound of water in the background slowly die out from the fountains. When he looks back towards you, he swears he sees your eyes turn from green back to your original eye color. 

“Ready?” you ask with a small smile.  

Logan nods silently again and follows you out. 

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The walk back into the mansion was quiet. You nervously played with your fingers as you led him inside and all the way upstairs. As you both walked through the hallway of the corridor, Logan couldn’t help but to steal a glance towards you as the afternoon sun slowly turned to evening. The light that was shining through the window at the end of the hall brightened your facial features that he couldn’t see back inside the greenhouse. He wanted to look at you a little longer but he knew he'd already pushed your boundaries from earlier so he looked away before you could realize.

You then walked a couple of extra steps ahead of him towards a closed door to what he assumes is his room. You open it and extend your arm out with a soft smile. “This is your room,” you say and Logan walks in silently with his hands behind his back to look around. “You have your own bathroom around the corner right here,” you maneuver around the room to open another door to the said bathroom. Then you look towards another side of the room and point to a closet and a set of drawers, “You should have enough room for your things to put in there too.”

The brunette haired man hums in acknowledgment as he walks about his new home. He opens and inspects his closet then turns towards you. “And where is your room?” he asks as he walks towards you. 

Your eyebrows raise at his question. “Down the hall,” you say in a flat tone as you stare at him. Logan hears the faintest attitude behind your words as a soft smirk forms on his lips. You almost want to back away from how intimidating he’s being but that's just because he’s so freakishly tall and built compared to you. Your soft gaze meets his as he’s just an arms length away from you. “Do you need anything else, Logan?” you ask in a soft tone. 

His hazel eyes analyze your face a little better up close and…god you’re so fucking beautiful. He’s eternally beating himself up on the inside for being a brash asshole to you in the beginning. Seeing you this close is making this fluttering feeling in his chest come back again and he’s not going to fight it this time. His gaze moves from your eyes to your rosy lips and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from making a move on you. Logan can already feel how good it’ll feel to have your lips against his as his hands move gently across your body and down to your –

“Logan?” you snap him out of his daydream that he blinks away from, “Are you alright?”

No… No he’s not. He can feel himself getting hard at the thought of him just kissing you. 

What a damn pervert…

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says back in a gentle tone, “Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything like that about your powers.”

A soft cheeky smile formed on your lips at his words. He then realized that he wanted to keep seeing that cheeky smile from here on out. “It’s okay, Logan,” you say back, “Take it as payback for when my plants and I called you an animal when you're not.”

An airy laugh slips from Logan’s mouth. He moves his eyes down to your hands where you’ve been nervously playing with your fingers and then grabs a hold of one of them with his calloused hand. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you watch him guide your hand towards his lips. His soft lips lightly meet your knuckles before he looks back at you. “Still… That wasn’t right of me, darlin’”, he says.

You can feel your cheeks warming up from the gesture and your words nearly don’t form in your head or voice. You gently pull your hand away from his with a small but nervous giggle. “You haven’t been here for a full day and you’re already flirty your way in,” you joke as you slowly walk backwards towards the door. “You should’ve waited to settle in first at least.” 

Logan smirks as he watches you walk away from him, “Don’t be afraid to like it, darlin’” Your pretty smile graces his eyes again as you nod and take your leave as you close his door. Logan lets out a near blissful sigh as he sits down on the bed. He runs a hand through his unruly hair nervously before laying down on his back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe, I’ll stay a little longer…”

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[miserycanary]

PLEASE PAINT OVER MY BRUISES ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: pairing: early 30s!Ghost & 20s!reader (can be read as platonic)

synopsis: Ghost as your refuge from your abusive father

tags: angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, hurt/comfort

| The first meeting was a coincidence. 

Shivering from the midnight breeze, you huddled your flimsy sweater close with one hand out to hold your cigarette. One inhale of nicotine got you throwing your head back, forgetting the situation back home that led you to wander the streets at midnight. Busy peering up at the stars in the sky, you didn't notice someone's presence there until you felt your cigarette pulled from your lips and stomped on the ground. 

"Dude! Not cool. That was my last," you angrily mumbled, squatting down to see if you could still use it. "Leave it." The voice took you by surprise, tilting your head up to see a hunk of a man, carrying some beers, looking down on you. You took notice of the calloused hand gripping the paper bag, meaning he was probably a lot older than you. Say early 30s? "Easy for you to say," a retort you throw at him. "I don't have money to buy more—" "then don't buy more," he plainly states, looking at you. Standing up, you finally noticed the mask on his face. With a roll of your eyes, you flip him off, grumbling under your breath, “fucking weirdo”.

| The second time was fate's joke. 

Groaning and yelling, you kick an empty soda can, cursing out your good-for-nothing father. You ran your fingers through your hair, tears slipping on the corner of your eyes as every part of your body ached in pain. Sniffles turn to sobs, muttering about ending it all as everything seemed to never go your way. The oversized shirt barely concealed the bruises, recent and old, making you wince. “Fuck, I hate this shit,” your eyes got hazy, breathing almost cut short. With minimal effort, you sit by the store’s wall to steady yourself. Face buried in your arms, you— once again— don’t notice his presence. 

The first time Ghost met you, he thought you were another rebellious teenager trying to act cool. You didn’t have a job, so he assumed you were a student. When he got home from that first meeting, he could only sigh and hope you’d gone back to your parents. Imagine his surprise when he sees you again, huddling by the store, sobbing. He was not one to manage emotions, so he thought of leaving you alone when a sudden gust of wind caught his attention. Blowing the flimsy fabric on your body, Ghost could see the marks on your body; marks he was too familiar with. Without hesitation, he walked over, pulled you up, and led you to his car. You didn’t even protest. How far gone are you to not even try to fight to live? 

The silence on the way to his house was uncomfortable, with your occasional sniffles which turned to hiccups. His eyes glanced at you from the side. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches at the back to grab one bottle of water from his bag and hands it to you. “It’s not drugged,” he tried to joke. “I wouldn’t mind if it was,” you mumbled, silencing Ghost from awkwardness.  At the end of the night, you found refuge. You were offered a place to stay, some food, clothes, and.. peace and safety. You found something rare that you never want to let go of.

| The rest are blessings.

Opening up to Ghost was relatively easy. Was it because you guys shared the same experience? Was it because he was the first to ask? All you know was you had him now. You would always come to his house when you needed to escape, and he never seemed to push. But the day you finally told him was a time you’d love to keep but forget. 

Coming to the place that seemed to be hell on Earth, you were immediately greeted by a chokehold, pressed against the wall. “Fucking brat. What took you so long? Are you out there spreading legs for people, bitch? The apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree. Your bitch mother was also a whore” ‘Ah, it smells like liquor. He’s drunk again’ you thought, eyes drained of life. Next thing you felt was yourself slumping down on the floor with an ache on your face. ‘This motherfucker really punched me’ “If you ever think of following that bitch’s footsteps and leaving me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Sighing, you pull your legs closer to your chest while your father repeatedly stomps his foot on your legs, then your back. He eventually got tired, leaving after spitting on your face. It took everything in you to force yourself to stand and make your way to your room.

Dread immediately poured in when you noticed every drawer was pulled. “No, no, no, no, no'' you sobbed, rushing to look at the place where you hid your safety money. Feeling nothing, you started to cry, rushing out the door and ignoring the yells from your father. You didn’t know where you were going. Using the only 10 dollars you had left, you took a cab to the only place you know is heaven on Earth.

As soon as the cab pulls up to the familiar house, you storm out of the vehicle. You rush to the door, opening it using a spare key and yelling his name.

“SIMON,” you cried. Footsteps thundered and you see his figure pop up from the kitchen, eyes widening as he takes in your state. It was like all the weight on your shoulders was lifted, your knees buckled. Before you could collapse on the floor, Simon was already by your side.

One arm holding you by your knees and another across your shoulder, he carries to the living room. Sitting down and letting you embrace him from his lap. His warmth calmed you down, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Holding on his shoulders, begging him to keep you safe with tears staining his shirt. He shakes his leg, softly cradling you closer to his chest. “I’m here, I’m here. I won’t let you go, okay?” he mutters, turning your head to him and placing a firm kiss on your forehead. “I will keep you safe. This is the last time you’ll be in pain. I’ll protect you from whatever scares you,” he sighs, wiping away your tears as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulders.

You look at him with a broken smile and profound peace, like he's a savior— a god. For the first time in years, you let yourself succumb to sleep without any worries for your safety. 

Maybe this is indeed heaven. You would love that— to be in Simon's safe embrace forever, away from the horrors of the world.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: my first ask by anonymous. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open! 

⟢ taglist is open! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[sammybeann]

So there's been a lil interest in me continuing this lil guy, so I've decided to make it a whole ass fic. So enjoy the filler chapter for now, as I have COVID and have lost my will to live. I promise it'll get more delicious, though, and we'll dial creep!Dean up to 100.

So what if Sam gets injured on a hunt, tossed around like a ragdoll by an angry vengeful spirit and smacks his pretty little head hard against a concrete wall?

Dean ends up finishing the spirit out, but Sammy is out fucking cold so he has little choice but to take him to the hospital. 

Finally, Sam wakes up and Dean's relief is immediate and immense, and that was until Sam made eye contact, glossy, confused hazel eyes meeting Dean's before asking "who the hell are you? Where am I?!"

The doctor comes in before Dean can answer, shooing the older Winchester out of the room so he can assess Sam's condition. 

Minutes felt like hours before the doctor emerged from the room, his brows furrowed as he explained to Dean that it appeared Sam was suffering from a pretty bad case of amnesia, only remembering certain events in his life, but had no recollection of people, unable to name off any family members or friends. And though his physical injuries would heal and he'd be okay, he wasn't sure Sam would ever recover his memories. 

When Dean re-emerged into Sam's room, he was met once again with an apprehensive look from the baby brother who once looked up at him with stars in his eyes instead of caution. 

After some prying, Dean had come to learn Sam knew his own name, remembered Stanford but nobody there, and mentioned memories of creatures and monsters, but still had no idea who the rough looking man in a dirty leather jacket with blood from Sam's head wound still on his hands was. 

"So, who are you, anyway?" He asked for the second time. 

Before he could really think about it, fight with the devil and angel on his shoulder on whether or not he should betray Sam's trust like this, cross a line he'd never be able to come back from, the words already left his mouth. 

"I'm your husband," he told Sam, who's eyebrows shot up comically high. "I...uh... we've been together since we were teenagers. Got married last year, the whole nine. We...we don't wear rings 'cause those monsters you talked about - they're real. We kill 'em."

Sam went white as a ghost. It wasn't as if this man was unattractive, and sure, he had been curious about the other sex growing up but he never thought he'd actually settle down with a whole ass man. There was also the news of the supernatural, sending a shock to his already overwhelmed system. 

"I...I don't...monsters, really? How the fuck am I supposed to kill monsters?! How am I married?! Oh, God. What am I supposed to do?!" An exasperated Sam exclaimed, big, watery doe eyes staring up at Dean, looking at him like he was his lifeline now, like Dean was his God that could fill in all the gaps for him. 

Guilt bubbled up inside Dean's chest, ugly and festering, but damn if that look from Sam didn't make it all worth it. He had his baby brother on a hook now, dependent and reliant on the only person he had. 

Dean bent down and ran a hand through Sam's mop of hair, leaning in to press a firm kiss against his forehead. 

"Hey, s'okay, baby. I'm here. I'll take care of you," he mumbled against Sam's clammy skin. "I got you."

Yeah, there was no was Dean wasn't going to hell for this, especially when Sam reached out to grab Dean's wrist, pulling his hand down to rest his cheek against Dean's callused palm. 

"Okay," Sam whispered brokenly. "I trust you."

[ch-4-eri]

LOVE POTIONS — Jill Valentine.

best friend’s mom! jill X female reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni!! age gap (don’t say i didn’t warn you) oral, dirty talk, hints at the reader being a virgin if you squint. i don’t know if i’m missing anything let me know.

word count: 1.4k

i’m so sick for this, i’ll go to hell on my own, don’t fuck your friend’s mothers guys. but do enjoy this.

you couldn’t explain it, even if you wanted, the whole thing was messy from the beginning.

it was supposed to be something innocent, completely harmless and has no threat to anyone in your life or yourself.

or your best friend.

if only you never met his mother, Jill Valentine, government agent, and a former RPD S.T.A.R.S member.

but god, you didn’t think it through.

didn’t think your attitude and the way you looked at the woman were entirely calculated, jill knew.

this woman has a love for details and reading you, every time you came over; what you’d say and what’d you do, what you’re wearing.

she’d show you she’s busy, working documents and important things for the BSAA, jill to you was just a best friend’s mother.

but you both had one hell of an unspoken sexual tension.

which you tried to hide, tried to shove in the back of your mind as your age gap is fucking nuts and you always worry someone would read your mind which isn’t even a realistic idea, but still, you were too anxious to act on it, even alone, self awareness preventing you from being able to stay in your head for long.

but jill on the other hand… when every time she analysed you, how you talk, how you act, your ass in your tiny skirts drives her fucking crazy enough she finds herself unable to sleep, her hand inside her shorts as she’s pumping herself up at the thought of you with her hand covering her mouth.

surely she felt ashamed, a woman her age acting and thinking like this, she felt so much guilt and shame for operating like a damn teenage boy riling with hormones over a girls ass in a skirt.

a girl her son’s age.

she knew if he ever found her out, he’d hate her forever and she can’t afford losing him, not after fighting for his custody for many years with her ex husband.

but that’s not what she had in mind that day, when she had you splayed down her bed so late at night, her fingers in your mouth as she ate you out like no tomorrow, your legs on her shoulders, your moans muffled by her thick fingers pressing down your tongue, drooling all over them.

“taste’s so good..” jill groaned against your clit, her mouth engulfing you, sending your back arching, she pulls away and sits up, making you ache at the loss of contact and the warmth you felt between your legs.

jill removed her fingers from your mouth, wiping your saliva off them down her bedsheets, going on her knees to meet your eyes as you were so lost in the feeling of pleasure you never got from anyone else other than this woman, a woman you shouldn’t even be doing this with.

but neither of you were even thinking of that right now.

jill had your chin in her palm as you opened your eyes, your breathing shaky and heavy, drool covering your chin as you smelled like sex and vanilla to the older woman’s nostrils.

“i want you to sit on my face, yeah? can you do that for me?” jill smirked, licking her lips with the tongue you want to be inside you again so badly.

you nodded eagerly, the thought of having her mouth against your pussy again was driving you mad with chills coursing through your body. “mhm.. yes please.” you begged, your eyes staring into hers pleadingly, like a lost puppy. fucked up enough.

jill patted your legs, lying down on the mattress of her huge bed, she wasn’t wearing anything other than her lacey bra and underwear, she was a fucking sight, you’d drool on her looks alone. even for a woman her age, she was damn delicious and you couldn’t get your eyes off her as you went on your knees and crawled to her.

she prepared the seat that was her face you were going to be sitting on for the next many minutes, hopefully hours if it were up to the older woman. moving her short brown hair away from her blue eyes you’d drown in.

as you made it closer to her, you were a bit nervous, a question rolling around your head you had to make sure of, you had to ask, as silly as it made you sound to a woman with so much experience.

“do i sit or hover?” you asked, your voice betraying you, your cheeks rosy and lips red and swollen.

jill chuckled, like she was making fun of you. “sit.” she demands. “i want you to suffocate me.” jill added, taking a hold of your thigh as she brought you closer with her strong grip.

“i want you to cum in my mouth.. am i clear, sweet girl?” she demanded as soon as you gasped, raising an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“y-yes..” you nodded like the puppy you are, you weren’t going to upset her, you hated to refuse jill.

and jill hated it when you refused her.

you finally scooted up to jill’s head, placing a knee next to her head, the other doing the same as you lowered your body so your wet pussy made contact with her nose, both of you let out a sigh while jill’s hands positioned you properly on her face, and as soon as you felt her tongue lick a long stripe up your sopping wet hole you let out a sickeningly pornographic moan, your hands grabbing at the headboard of her bed.

“ah.. jill..” you breathed, your thighs squeezing the older woman’s head, her tongue sucking and licking at your hole as she made it her sole purpose for you to cum in her mouth and if she keeps this up you’re gonna do it more than once, not that jill would complain.

her strong hands gripped your ass so tight, her tongue brutally slamming inside of you, as was her nose, sliding it up and down which drew pathetic moans out of you.

jill was humming, groaning into you, making your legs shake and your thighs closing in on her, and you were worried you were hurting her even though jill was having a fucking blast, she adored those damn thighs, if she suffocateds and dies like this it’ll all be worth it.

“please.. can’t take this anymore.” you cried out, making jill just suck at your clit like a starved woman, her body humming and shivering as she was desperate to get touched as well, rubbing her thighs together while her hands reached your hips in a bruising grip.

you were shuddering and whimpering, your legs so weak as you didn’t want to put your full weight on the woman’s face. “jill..” you moaned as she flicked her tongue against your sopping walls, your thighs filled with goosebumps.

“i’m..” you start, your lower belly so tight with a burning sensation that you were so close to your release, jill positioned you right into her mouth as she knew you were close, drinking you up as you finally gushed your orgasm down her mouth like she wanted.

“mmm..” jill mumbled, swallowing every last bit of what you can give her, you tasted like heaven, fucking delicious.

you were trying to catch your breath, your heart hammering against your rib cage as jill patted your thigh.

you weakly pulled your knee away from her head, your legs were shaking like crazy, your center so sensitive and puffy.

“i bet you can’t walk now, huh?” jill joked, sitting up on her elbows, her cheeks red from the heat of being between your thighs for as long as she just was, her nose and her lips shiny and sticky from your release and you were so sick for thinking she looked so darn good with your cum on her face.

you gulped, heat rushing into your cheeks at her words. “just a little sore.” you mumbled shyly, like you weren’t just seated on her face.

“a little sore hm? come here for me..” jill gestured for you to come closer to her. “you think you can just rest without returning the favour?”

jill smirked and brushed your hair away from your face, brushing two fingers against your hardened nipples.

“i know you can’t handle me sitting on your face… i’m afraid i’d break you entirely… but you have fingers don’t you?”

she says in a suggestive tone, grabbing your nipple into her mouth, your eyes closing at the sensation, your hands going into her hair as a moan escaped you.

jill took your hand and brought it near her panties.

then she pulled away with a pop, her blue eyes staring into yours so intensely. “now be a good girl and touch me.”

oh boy you’re screwed.

[noyzinerd]

More Than Just A Body (Swap)

Thinking about a post-body swap Sterek fic.

One that fully takes place after a body swap has already been reversed (like, a sequel to a non-existent fic--where they swapped bodies, had to live as the other, got switched back, yet didn't get together by the end--that's constantly alluded to, but we never actually get to read), so we only see the aftermath.

Derek is super irritated and snippy for days after they get back into their own bodies. Stiles thinks it's because Derek feels pissed and humiliated he had to relive to highschool with insufferable teenagers, be helplessly human and weak, and generally listen to authority again (his dad). It definitely bums Stiles out to think that Derek found living his life so deplorable that he's still angry about it. So now both of them are upset and sort of avoiding each other.

It isn't until two weeks later, when their stand-off is starting to effect pack business, that Stiles gets fed up and confronts Derek.

"What's your deal, man? You've been super shitty ever since we swapped back. It's been two weeks. How can you still be mad about living as me? What, was doing the dishes and being forced to write 5,000 words about the Louisiana Purchase seriously that terrible? Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with my stupid, tissue-paper body for so long, but you can't just-!"

And before you know it, Derek has him shoved up against a wall. He's still pissed, yeah, but, for some reason, he also looks...hurt and broken inside.

"Your body isn't stupid, Stiles! It was the best thing to happen to me in years!"

Stiles is stunned speechless. Derek's fingers are trembling around the grip he has in Stiles' shirt. There's so much pain in those green-blue eyes that it actually aches to look in them. It looks almost like grief.

Like Derek is in mourning.

Derek's not crying, but his eyes are definitely shinier as he continues, "You have no idea what you have, Stiles. What I had. For the first time since the worst fucking day of my life, I got to do normal things, like chores and sports. Not a single person expected anything of me o-or looked to me for answers. I didn't have to worry about fucking up and getting people killed, because the smartest guy I knew was taking care of my body like it was something precious. And all I had to do in return was live your beautiful, quiet life. A life where someone gently woke me up for school and nobody found me too intimidating to get close to.

"I got to know what it was like to be loved by a father again, Stiles! To say the words 'I love you, too, Dad' when I didn't think I'd ever get another chance. I-I got to be hugged and have people smile at me like they were glad to see me and I'd get to look in the mirror in the morning to the sweetest smile at the start of my day and hear your voice every time I talked. It was perfect." Somehow, Stiles has found his face streaked with tears even though the tears valiantly sticking to Derek's lashes still haven't fallen as his voice breaks over his words.

"A-and now? All I get to wake up to is me." The word is spit out with acid and venom. "I get to wake up alone in a cold, silent, empty, concrete room and look at a face in the mirror that makes me sick. I get to go back to my pathetic fucking life where I have to choose between literally fighting against an endless wave of people out to kill me or using my family's blood money to buy myself a microwavable dinner for the night. The only difference is that now...now I'm haunted by the feel of your fingers through my hair, your arms wrapped around me," at this, Stiles can feel his heart cracking apart at the thought of Derek using his body to simply hug himself, "y-your voice telling me that I'm going to be okay, and just-just the sight of your skin and your eyes and-and-I just, I can't, Stiles, I-I can't-!"

Stiles is clutching Derek so tight to him in an instant, tucking him into his neck and slowly lowering them to the ground as Derek collapses and sobs into him.

---

Once the tears are all dry, Stiles finally picks up the courage to be vulnerable too. He owes it to Derek.

At least it'll be easier now that he can't see the werewolf's reactions.

So, as he's stroking the other's hair, Stiles tells him about how he wishes Derek could see the man he fell in love with the way Stiles can.

He tells him about how he fell in love with a man whose heart is so big and full of kindness that he physically cannot stop himself from helping people, no matter how much he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

The man he loves is powerful, resilient, and stronger than any one person has any right to be, yet so fragile as to be afraid of loving someone too much because he might be shattered.

The man Stiles loves is smart, sassy, thoughtful, stubborn, awkward, grumpy, sweet, and so so deserving of hugs and smiles and kisses and praise, because Derek is and has always been more than just a body.

Stiles tells him about how, during their swap, he made sure to take warm baths with nice smells, nap in cozy blankets, and massage his hands and feet with lotions because Stiles wanted to take care of Derek's body as much as he could while he got the chance. He did it because he wanted to help Derek and this was the only way he thought he could.

If there had been even the slightest indication that anything more would've been well received, Stiles would have already done it. All he wants is permission.

"Please...let me take care of you?"

---

So, slowly, day by day, Stiles enfolds Derek into a gentle life.

Stiles is Derek's strongest advocate, his extra set of hands to help carry his burdens, his pillow, his introduction to new things and new people.

They're always wrapped around each other, all the time, almost like Stiles is scared of Derek getting cold.

Despite the confession, things remain G-rated for a while. Cuddles, hand-holding, caresses, just touching. Shy kisses eventually make an appearance after some time, but they remain sweet, loving little things.

Stiles makes it perfectly clear that he's fine waiting to make a move until he's sure being intimate can't possibly be mistaken as anything else. He needs Derek to understand that this isn't obligation or pity. Stiles loves Derek. And Stiles is going to take his time because he wants Derek to feel loved beyond his body, no matter how long it takes.

By the time Derek feels whole again, now living with the Stilinskis and smiling softly as a default expression, they find themselves in front of the bathroom mirror having their first time together.

It's definitely not kinky. Mostly reverent, full of "It's okay, I'm right here", fingers laced tight together, flashing eyes, and a bit of emotional tears. It's gentle and assuring, with promises of never being alone again, and whispers of "so beautiful" and "so sweet" and "so perfect". Climax is rewarded with praises, hands stroking up arms and down backs, and "I love you"s are slurred through dropped fangs and traded back and forth between kisses

But as expected, finally having sex doesn't magically make Derek love himself. It's still a long road. Because even if Derek doesn't completely hate his life anymore, there are those hard days where he still has problems with 'being Derek'.

And maybe one day Derek will learn to love the body he lives in.

Until then, Stiles will just have to love it for him.

[outermaybanks]

you're the reason rafe buys drugs

a/n: listen i know people say rafe wouldn’t give head, and normally i agree but i counter with: there are two wolves inside rafe cameron; one is a selfish prick, the other is desperate for approval. 

contains: nsfw 18+ mdni. drug use. oral fem receiving. grinding bc i said so. p in v penetration. ft. switch!rafe but he’s just pussywhipped and has daddy issues (nvm i took it too far switch!rafe fr) pleasure kink? yeah i think so.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Rafe shouted a bit, so you could hear him over the music. You turned and looked at him, dressed in khakis and a polo, you had to turn away to stop yourself from laughing in his face.

“I uh… got your favorite.”

That got your attention. You quickly whip back around, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrow. Rafe just smiled, so grateful to have your attention. He leaned down so his lips were by your ear.

“Come with me.”

You looked over your shoulder to find your girlfriends at the party, the two girls dancing on each other as a group of boys watched, then you looked back to Rafe.

“Lead the way, Cameron.”

Rafe swallowed as you reached out to put your hand on his shoulder, all he could think about was your hand sliding down his chest to his pants. Your pointed look reminded Rafe of the mission at hand and he promptly turned on his heel, leading you somewhere more quiet, which just so happened to be his bedroom.

“This is the best shit in OBX,” Rafe said, grabbing the baggie from his pocket. Only the best for his girl.

You took the opportunity to look around Rafe’s room, filled with typical teenage boy shit. You looked at him before sauntering over to sit beside him on the bed. He had a tray in his lap, ready to make some lines for you two, when you had a fun idea.

“Wanna do ‘em off me?” 

Rafe’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Off you, like-“

“Like off my tits,” you said so casually Rafe almost came in his pants.

“Y-Yeah-“ He cleared his throat. “Fuck yeah.”

You couldn’t fight the giggle that fell from your lips. Maybe this would be more fun than you thought.

Rafe bit his lip as he watched you pull your shirt over your head. He could already feel his cock straining against his khakis, and when you reached behind your back and suddenly your bare breasts were in front of him.

You laid down so perfectly, Rafe could’ve sworn he’d seen this in porn. 

“Well?” You tease, and Rafe didn’t want to waste another second. He swallowed the saliva forming in his mouth, then carefully poured the power from the baggie into a rough life going vertically across your right tit, right beside your perked nipple.

Rafe wet his bottom lip before palming your breast in his hand, holding you steady. His hands were big, and you liked the feeling of them. You watched carefully as he snorted up the powder, and he looked at you once more before licking the left over. You bit your lip at the feeling, a small moan falling from your lips.

Rafe felt like he was in a dream. He wanted to do whatever it took to hear that noise again.

“My turn,” you said softly, guiding him to move as you sat up. “Shirt off.”

Rafe nodded, excitedly pulling off his shirt. His enthusiasm egged you on, so you pushed him down to lie on his back and swung your leg over his lap to straddle him. You could feel his hardening erection through your shorts.

Rafe took a shaky breath as he fought the urge to rut up into you. He settled for placing his hands on your hips.

The boy beneath you couldn’t help but let out a soft hiss as you leaned forward to pour your line of coke down his sternum, your core pressing harder against him.

After you snorted your line, you mimicked Rafe’s actions and slowly licked a stripe up his chest. 

“Rafe?”

“Hm?” was all he could muster.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Rafe swallowed again, before desperately nodding his head. You bit your lip as you started grinding against his erection.

“I’ll let you fuck me if you do what I say.”

Rafe nodded fervently, already surrendered to you.

“Take your pants off, but leave your boxers on.”

Once Rafe’s hands moved to the button on his pants, you climbed off to pull off your own shorts off, only you also pull off your panties. Once Rafe notices this, he becomes transfixed on the glistening between your lips.

“You know that trick you can teach a dog, where you put the treat on their nose but they can’t eat it yet?” You ask as you climb back up him, swinging your leg back over his lap. You could see the tent formed by his hard cock, but you didn’t dare touch him yet.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed but he nodded. You pushed him to lay flat on his back. 

“You’re the dog.”

You lowered yourself, causing his dick to lay against his stomach as you rolled your hips back and forth. Rafe’s hands once again found their way to your hips, but this time, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he took a deep inhale. You allowed him to help guide your movements.

Small grunts and moans fell from Rafe’s lips with every roll of your hips. The wet spot left on his boxers by your wetness only spurred him on more.

You kept your eyes locked on his as you grind against his cock. Soft moans hummed in your throat as felt your desire swell.

“What do you want, Mr. Cameron?” You practically purred. Rafe wet his lips as his eyes flickered from yours to the damn fabric separating him from you.

“I want another line.”

You raised your eyebrow at him, curiously. He sat up before flipping the two of you, Rafe quickly kissed down your neck. As his mouth made its way down your body, you found yourself grinding against his knee, which was conveniently placed between your legs.

“Now who’s begging like a dog?” Rafe mumbled against your skin, before biting down softly on the flesh of your breast, causing you to let out a soft whine.

Rafe pressed his hand against you, pushing you to lie flat, and carefully poured a horizontal line across the bottom of your stomach. You ran a hand through his hair, gripping slightly as he snorted his line. You felt the familiar cool of his tongue against your flesh, but then he began kissing further down, lowering his body before licking a stripe up your aching core. Your grip on his hair tightened as a pleased moan fell from you.

Rafe took this as encouragement and slid his tongue up and down as his lips attached to your clit, and finally he got the delicious moans he craved from you. 

“Mmm yeah, right there, Rafe, just like that.”

Rafe buried his face deeper into your core, lifting your legs onto his shoulders. 

“You taste so fucking good, y/n,” He said when he came up for a breath before promptly going back to the task at hand. His eyes were glued to your face, drinking up the sight of you twisted with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy.”

Those were the magic words to him. 

He slid his tongue inside you, lapping at the juices before he began fucking you with his tongue.

“Mmm! Fuck, I’m close Rafe, I’m so fucking close.”

His fingers gripped you tighter, pulling you impossibly closer. Meanwhile, your fingers dug deeper into his hair, pushing his face down, trying to grind against his tongue.

You came with a gasp, then a moan, before his name fell from your lips repeatedly with quick breaths. God it was music to Rafe’s ears.

Your legs fell limp as you panted, your body practically vibrating as you came down. But Rafe was still chasing release, and he was running out of patience.

“You can handle another one, can’t you, baby?”

Your eyes were half lidded, already drunk off your first orgasm, but you were greedy, you wanted more. You nodded and opened your legs for him, and Rafe wasted no time kneeling in front of you before pulling you closer. 

Your head fell back in anticipation as you felt his tip slide through your lips.

“Tell me you want it.”

You looked at him through your lashes, then your eyes fell to his pretty cock, all pink and needy, already leaking with precum. You bit your lip before reaching down between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock. You kept your eyes on him as your hand stroked him, then you lined him up at your entrance.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Rafe.”

In one movement he slid all the way inside of you, causing your eyes to roll back at the sweet stretch. Rafe had lost the desire to be unselfish, immediately thrusting into you. Your body was still buzzing from your first orgasm, and with each movement of his hips you could feel the tension building back up in your stomach.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby. Knew you would. Knew this was the perfect pussy for me.”

You moaned at his words, pushing your hips up so he could reach a better angle that made your eyes close as you tried to keep focus.

Rafe’s hands slid from your hips to your waist, lifting you to arch your back as he thrusted up into you, the pleasure causing your head to fall back, practically going limp in his arms as your  second orgasms rolled through you. Seeing you unraveling from his cock was what pushed Rafe over the edge, his warm cum shooting inside you, a low grunt leaving his throat as he finished.

You were too blissed out to move, but Rafe held you still while he caught his breath, then he leaned down, resting his head against yours before pressing his lips to yours, and you realized, that was the first time you had done that. You brought your hand up to his cheek, pulling him closer.

When you pulled away, Rafe swallowed as he took in the sight of what you two had done, then without a word he got up, and went into his bathroom attached to the room, returning with a washcloth to clean you with, and one of his shirts.

“What’s this?” you asked, holding up the shirt.

“To sleep. You’re staying the night,” Rafe answered nonchalantly as he pulled on a pair of sweats, making your eyebrows knit together.

“Where are you going?” 

“To kick everyone out of my fucking house.”

©outermaybanks 2024

[centrally-unplanned]

Let's see if I have one more election take in me:

I am deeply sympathetic to Sam Kriss's rage against the Democratic corpo-political shibboleth, and not just because we are both deeply enmeshed in the grand tradition of dissident Oxbridge-style cantankerous internet rants. He is right that Kamala was a weak candidate, for one. But more importantly, I still feel what he feels deep down. I remember the starry idealism of my halcyon youth, of believing that conviction, that vision, that the zeal only a platform birthed from authentic principles, tempered by struggle and sweat, would carry the day over crass, paint-by-polling-numbers incrementalism. When he describes Harris thusly:

"She’s a machine politician. She wants power, but not for any particular reason. It’s just that life is a game, and the point is to reach the highest level."

I see my own reaction to her when she first stepped into the 2020 limelight, and low-key hating her for it. I feel his heart, for it is my heart.

But it is not my brain. Because I am not a teenager anymore, and his critique is fucking bullshit.

He says all this stuff like:

The reason Kamala Harris lost is the same as the reason she was the candidate to begin with: the Democratic Party is allergic to democracy.

And how the electorate is seen as but ants from inside the towers of the Machine, like the Dems just invented "not running a primary" this time as a lark. As opposed to neither party in America ever having primaries against incumbent presidents! Because they are normally popular, and it would be a waste of everyone's time to do that! Could you imagine, launching a real primary against Obama in 2012? And possibly sabotaging his brand a bit for absolutely nothing? It is a reasonable policy, particularly when incumbents used to have an advantage for being so. Now they clearly don't, Biden was unpopular and too old, and the Dems took too long to realize it. A costly mistake, but it is a purely strategic error. Big orgs have inertia, and the Dems fucked up. It has nothing to do with an "allergy to democracy".

And Kriss can go off summarizing how the Harris campaign was offering voters nothing:

But for some unaccountable reason, among the general public, ‘Kamala: You Already Like Her!’ was not the brilliant pitch it seemed to be. [...] Another option would be to actually offer something to the voters.

Which sounds neat, but he made it up! I remember Kamala's actual campaign speeches, ads, and platforms, which she repeated so monotonically in her tightly-scripted campaign appearances: protect abortion rights, expand the welfare state, provide better child care support, lower the cost of housing. And most importantly, she ran on Biden's record of a strong economy and promised to deliver more of it. What does even mean for this to not be a real platform? Beyond not having some synthesized, totalizing "Critique" of modernity that packages it all into a beautiful, systematizing little box.

Because I promise you, voters synthesize jack shit. None of this is why Harris lost - voters have made that pretty clear:

You can find other data ofc, this or that point varies, but the story is not opaque. They didn't like Biden! They didn't like his inflation. They didn't like immigration, or they didn't like his liberalism, and they thought Kamala was too similar. She had too much policy baggage. And she wasn't charismatic enough to dig herself out of that hole - no disagreement from me on that front.

Though even then, by that we mean she lost an election by ~3-4% margins after getting subbed in at the 4th quarter while down by ~8% in the polls. That ain't bad!

None of the voters who matter share Kriss's sensibilities, and he cannot hide his disappointment in that. So he pretends that Donald Trump, the guy who promised 20% tariffs on everything to fight inflation, is giving them a real vision:

That’s what Trump did: he offered an enemy to blame and the prospect of doing violence to them

I don't know man, I think swing voters just don't like the last four years and think 2019 was better. I don't think the promises of orgastic violence against democrats are why Trump won! Actually a bit of an unforced error on his part.

But since Kriss presumes to value democracy, that thesis can't hold - so the lack of reality delivering on what his vision for democracy should be is displaced onto Harris's mistakes. The voters can never fail you. You can only fail to elevate them with the right candidate. Which, tactically? Sure, why not. But you can leave the moralism at the classroom door.

This ties into our dreaded media discourse debate, so it is time to bring in another explainer, by Michael Tomasky:

The line-by-line isn't interesting here; instead I want to focus on this quote:

Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president? The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.”

To which the immediate reply is: my dude, what are you talking about??

A 56 percent majority of Americans say Trump is probably guilty of a criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election results through false claims of voter fraud, including 40 percent who believe he is “definitely guilty.” Republicans are less united than Democrats. Nearly 9 in 10 Democrats believe Trump is guilty, while nearly 7 in 10 Republicans think he is innocent. Among independents, nearly twice as many think Trump is guilty as think he is innocent.

You know how when you ~13 years old, and you have that friend who is just old enough to start taking Dungeons & Dragons books filled with splash art of succubi into the bathroom with him, but not yet old enough to get that "talking to girls" is an acquired skill? And they are blatantly, openly salivating over the first chick in the 7th grade class who discovered what power the combination of a camisole and a push-up bra holds over the male gaze? And she just completely ignores his faltering attempts at ~casual conversation~, so his brain script-cycles through its backlog of tween sitcom plots until it lands on, "Hey, what if I confess to her? Then she will know about my feelings!"

And you have to pull him aside and gently explain that, bro. She knows. That is not your problem.

Kriss is too intelligent a thinker to not understand this, but our dear Tomasky - and so many like him - has stuck his 14-year-old head in the sand over this. Swing voters know Trump is a scumbag! They know he lost the election, they know he raped a few women in his day, they know he is a serial fraudster. Even a bunch of those Republicans who, in polls, go "oh it's all a Dem conspiracy"? They know too; they just have the decency to lie about it. How could they not? Every media outlet in the country has been repeating it for a fucking decade! I might think voters are morons but even I won't stoop this low; they have eyes and ears, they aren't illiterate.

They just don't care.

Not enough at least, not enough to make it the only thing they consider. And here is the rub, here is the grand mistake Kriss & Tomasky are making - they are at least somewhat right to not care. The height of the Democratic privilege is that they get to play this card because they don't have to deal with it being turned against them. Kamala is a political chameleon but she is a decent person. She would never take a bribe from a foreign government, she would never assault a coworker, she would never, ever, deny a free and fair election.

Which means you don't have to choose between voting for a rapist and voting for someone who is going to shove a bullshit interpretation of the 14th amendment down your throat via a stacked court to ban abortion nationwide, forever. Pro-life people think abortion is genocide against babies! Why are you surprised they aren't voting for the pro-baby-genocide person because she is nice? How sure are you that you would do the same when that is reversed? I guess those boycott-Harris-because-of-Gaza people got some cred, but I think we all agreed they were dumb, right?

This is the rub of why outsiders always have so much difficulty understanding how people like Berlusconi, Trump, Le Pen, etc, get so much vote share - they have no stake in the political struggle beyond the vague idea of democratic norms. It is easy to say "Italy, choose a non-crook!" when you don't have to live with the policy programme of the other guy. From the inside the price of those principles is far, far harder. It isn't shocking that most choose not to pay it.

This isn't to give voters like a moral pass - Trump's conduct is truly disqualifying, I would vote Republican if the shoe was on the other foot in this case. My point instead is that they generally won't as a simple fact of life, and blaming them is futile. If you have wound up in a situation where the political system has taken its pool of hundreds of millions of potential candidates and narrowed it down to two for the voters, and one of them has "launched a coup but will say go to hell to the inflation guy" as a bundled package, someone fucked up and it isn't the voters.

You need political elites to do their part in the system - Republicans never should have let Trump be their candidate in 2016. Open primaries with no organizational thumbs on the scale are a mistake, actually, allowing arbitrary minorities to generate subpar candidates. The decision to let Biden run again was, fundamentally, born from the same impulse - the Democratic Party had no leadership capable of telling him no, because they outsourced that job to "primaries". The Dems are not "allergic" to democracy; democracy is allergic to too much of itself.

But the cat is out of the bag now! These changes happened for a reason after all. Which I won't dig into here - I will keep my point as focused as something as sprawling as this can be. Voters will not save you, and you should not be disappointed when they don't. It was never their job.

[robiinurheart33]

Okay ACTUAL post about Ghost being obsessed with Soap

Ghost was already apprehensive about showing his face to Los vaqueros and the rest of the 141.

But Price was going on and on about “team trust” and “all in the same boat” or whatever bullshit he was spouting, so he just decided to get it over and done with. It’s not like anyone would take a picture and go “oh my god, see how ugly he actually is?”

So he does it. He takes off the mask in front of everyone for a couple seconds, just as much as the burning of his skin allows him to. The whole time, he was staring at Soap. Soap, who scared him shitless all alone with shadows sporting a fucking GSW and still joking. Soap, who’s explosive and loud and happy. Soap, whose face is just blank when Ghost takes off his mask.

what the fuck?

Not to toot his own horn, but he was kinda expecting a reaction here. He knows his worth, he knows his reputation, how much his head would cost bleeding out in a sack. Sue him if he was expecting more of a reaction. His Glasgow smile isn’t anything to smile over, and he isn’t exactly considered handsome either, by any standards. He’s sweaty, the black face paint no doubt smudged now, his crooked nose broken one too many times, hairline wildly disrupted by the scar running into the crown of his skull. He’s a whole fuckin mess, if Gaz’s reaction is anything to mull over. The hot glare of the white lightbulb is pressing into his skin, and the crawling feeling like a thousand ants all move under his skin, into his eye sockets and it’s all wrong. It’s all not right, and he needs to get away immediately.

“Welcome back, Simon.”

Jesus, he wants to die. The worst part about all this is that Soap still isn’t making a face. Ghost can read him like a book and this is the time that he can’t decipher a single emotion from that face? Sweat runs down his neck and is extremely aware of the rest of the people in the room with him at that moment. He decides it’s enough and with a glance at Price, he pulls the skull back over his face. He needs to get away. Right now. His face feels way too hot, too uncomfortable and awkward and suddenly he’s 15 years old again, limbs too lanky and a height that he’s not accustomed to. He can feel the teenage insecurity bubble beneath the surface, angry and hurt.

Ghost pretty much blanks out after the meeting, slipping out and away from everyone else. His boots thump against the ground, and he can’t tell if it’s too loud or all in his head. He’s overstimulated, he can tell. He just needs to stay away, be alone, breathe. Compartmentalise it and deal with the rest later. Right now, he just needs to calm down.

Why didn’t he react? Why didn’t he react? Why didn’t he react? Do I not mean as much to him as he does to me?

He’s losing it. This is so irritatingly immature, and stupid, and dumb. It’s completely fine that Soap didn’t react. It’s fine. Ghost slips into a random room, which just so happens to be a pretty cozy broom closet and rests his head against one of the shelves. The disinfectant smell is overpowering and honestly making his head swim but being in here is better than out here. He feels like his limbs are locked up, eyes locked up in one spot but his brain isn’t seeing anything. He needs to keep it together. His fingers scratch under the rim of the mask where it hugs his skin tight, too tight. The gloves make it even harder to scratch, fuck. He can’t spare any time for a dumb anxiety attack over revealing his face in front of 30 strangers. If he can’t predict Soap’s reaction, does he even know him at all? Fuck-

The door clicks open slowly. Ghost swerves his head to snap at the poor soldier about to have the fright of their life. Instead, he sees pale blue eyes filled with mirth and worry and all the fight leaves him.

“Help me out?” Johnny’s stupid little smile makes Ghost want to throw himself against the wall. he’s holding a small tin with eye grease inside, the smooth untouched surface evident of how much soap uses it.

Help me.

“Yeah, of course.”

Soap steps into the already small space and closes the door behind him with an audible click. Ghost can’t tell if the air really is that awkward or it’s all in his head, if Soap’s casual smile is anything to follow up upon. Soap holds up the tin as Ghost tugs his gloves off, shoving them inside his pants and grimacing slightly as the gloves feel like his pants are bulging, pressing against his skin.

Ghost doesn’t say anything as he places the tin on a nearby shelf and grips Soap’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up. He dips two fingers into the tin, facing back towards him as he concentrates. His fingers are buzzing with the promise of contact, head fussing and screaming with the affection and sensation of the oily paste on his bare fingers, no doubt getting under his nails.

His hearts beats in tandem with the low panic and anxiety through his veins, threatening lowly to not mess this up. His finger shakes as he makes the first swipe right below Soap’s eye, half lidded and fixed onto Ghost. He wanted to cry all of a sudden- because why would Soap come to Ghost with this? Why would he be the first one he thought of; the first one to trust enough to bare his face, close his eyes and with blind faith let him touch his skin? He blinks, and blinks again, nose feeling funny. Why would Soap trust him?

Ghost’s finger traces across the bridge of his nose, over his eyelids where he can feel his pupils move. Over his warm skin with the bumps and ridges, over the temples and cheekbones. His heart aches with confusion. Why, why, why? How was he even given the privilege to do this? To touch something as precious as Johnny? He doesnt understand. He might never understand. He might not ever get over this.

Over the other temple, again smoothening on the slope of his nose bridge, over the eyes. His palms are sweaty. Ghost wipes the residue of the paste on his pants, hands coming up to cup Soap’s cheeks to make sure he didn’t miss a spot. (There was no way he could’ve, it’s a relatively simple process.) Squishing his cheeks softly, Johnny opens his eyes. His eyelashes are clumped together by the paint, lips smushed slightly as his eyes turn a bit hazy before focusing on Ghost again. His eyes are even bluer in contrast to the black surrounding his eyes. Softness and patience, heartache and love.

Ghost sucks in a long breath and exhales through his nose. It’s funny, his heart is still beating so fast, but his breathing is calm and collected. Johnny’s pupils flicker and widen for a second, then all of a sudden his hand is now under his eyes, wiping away a stray tear. Ghost flinches back, surprised. His elbow hits the shelf and he hisses, all the progress gone in a second.

“Hey- hey.”

He can’t look.

“Ghost.”

He doesn’t want to.

A shift, and then it’s safe again. It smells like sweat, face paint and pinewood. A hand on the back of his neck, guided to the crook of a neck. It isn’t comfortable at all, bulky gear in the way, Ghost’s arms folded in front of him, his shoulders tense and his mask no doubt digging into Soap’s shoulder. But it- it’s perfect. It’s warm, and every possible part of his body screams that he belongs there. So Ghost unfurls his arms, hangs them limply by his side and steps closer. Johnny’s arms wrap around his neck, trapping him in a sort of awkward, one-sided hug that’s definitely going to make Ghost’s neck have a crick in it. But it’s perfect. It’s safe. He’s safe.

Ghost closes his eyes and lets instinct take over him, hands coming up to grab onto the back of Johnny’s tac vest; the closest he’ll ever get to a hug. Johnny’s warm, the pressure on his eyes comforting and the skin on skin contact full-on relieving. He’s warm, warm, warm. And Ghost is cold. He’s always been cold. Safe. He’s safe.

Johnny’s head shifts, and Ghost’s hands grasp tighter onto his vest like a lifeline. Don’t go. His mind cries. Don’t leave me alone.

“It’s okay.” Johnny coos softly. Ghost can feel his lips on the side of his temple.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” He murmurs, and the words feel like they’re vibrating, echoing through the side of his head, engraving it into his skull. It’s just you and me.

All of a sudden Ghost really curses the fuckin’ sack he wears that’s preventing from his skin being in touch with Johnny’s.

Ghost hums, turning his head so that the skull mask isn’t digging into Johnny’s shoulder anymore. The polyester where it covers his lips is touching the side of his neck and he can feel it when Johnny’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

It’s a real shame he can’t see Johnny’s expression as he whispers against his neck, “Just you and me.” Although, he can feel the skin beneath his lips heat up rapidly.

Johnny swallows. “Mhm.”

They stay like that for a few moments, Ghost preening from the intimacy of the moment, and Johnny just holding him close. After Ghost deems it to be enough, he clears his throat and stands up tall again, at the same time swiping the ghost team mask stuffed into Soap’s pocket. He pulls it over his head, not before taking a peek to see the blush that had completely taken over Johnny’s face. (He’s selfish in ways like that.) Ghost adjusts the mask to fit snugly over his face, big blue eyes staring right back at him. Ghost’s heartbeat quickens.

“All good, Sargent.” Ghost isn’t completely sure if he’s referring to himself or the other, seeing as if either one of them might be having a heart attack right now, Johnny hasn’t blinked in quite a while. He lifts soap’s chin one last time (selfish, what’d he tell you), and places and well-loved peck right in between his eyes.

“Lookin’ good, Soap.”

Ghost lets the door click behind him, too much of a coward to see Johnny’s reaction to that. He isn’t quite sure what’s gotten into him, but if a rumour spread that the Lieutenant of the 141 walked out of that storage room with a skip in his step, he’d tell everyone that they’re dumbasses for believing in that. He’d be guilty, of course, but no one else has to know that. It’ll just be for Ghost and Johnny to know. Love does funny things to us, after all.

[too-deviant]

Hii would you take a request for Luke x Athena!reader? Like an au where Luke isn't the one who turned and in the battle of Manhattan it's them and percabeth leading the camp in battle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Athena!Reader

Summary: Percy thinks there's just about nothing that can pull you and Luke apart.

Notes: sorrry this took so long i had w block for a little bit. hope this is okay!!! also not proofread so lmk if there's any grammar mistakes lolss

Since he found out he was a demigod, Percy Jackson only ever had three things remain consistent in his fucked up life:

(1) His imminent doom. 

(2) His mom’s undying support. 

(3) Luke Castellan’s wandering eyes. 

Even now, as he fights for his life against Kronos’ Army ten feet away from the Empire State Building. Whenever he gets the chance, Percy scans his eyes over their side of the fight. Making sure everyone is okay, aiding where he was needed. And every time, without fail, Luke was doing the same thing — only his eyes zeroed in one one warrior in particular. You. 

It was a tether, Percy realised, but not just for Luke. Whenever things got particularly tough — whenever he found himself thinking about how much had changed and how much would change after this, he would hear you laugh and he would know you were laughing at Luke. Or he would glance over at where you sat, the son of Hermes never too far away. It would remind him of his first day at camp, when he was young and unaware, being given the immersive tour by the kind older counsellor he’d met ten minutes earlier, and watching as he looked back at the same group of campers whenever he got the chance. Until Percy, curious as he is, finally asked the question. 

“Who is that?”

Luke had grinned like he was waiting for someone to segue the conversation to you, and began his spiel about the best demigod the Athena Cabin had ever seen. An exaggeration, Percy knew, since he’d seen the other Athena kids and their skill. And he’d been unnerved enough by Annabeth’s staring the whole day to know they each had their own stories. 

But Luke didn’t seem to be thinking about the other Athena kids at that moment. His brown eyes shone as he watched you, a smile so soft it made Percy screw his face up a bit. Just say she’s your girlfriend, man, no need to start reciting poetry. 

It was a classic case of the teenage honeymoon phase. Even though he was twelve, Percy knew the deal. He’d watched Glee. 

But where the honeymoon phase is supposed to end, yours remained. Apparently it wasn’t a phase at all, and you guys really were just sickly in love. It was horrible, but it also helped Percy stay sane as the world shifted around him with every passing moment. 

Like earlier, when they were laying out the plans just after Kronos had put Manhattan to sleep. It seemed like aeons ago he was standing in the quiet, zoned in on nothing in particular, flinching at the hand that brushed his shoulder. It was you, Luke not far behind like he always had been.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, “I dunno.”

Luke snorted, patting him on his other shoulder, “You’ll be good, man.”

“Really?” He scoffed a laugh, “I’m fifteen, leading an army isn't my job. If anything, you guys should be the ones in charge.”

“Callin’ us old, sucker?” You joked, pinching him. He hissed and you laughed. Almost automatically, Percy’s eyes went to Luke, who was looking at you with a soft smile like he always did whenever you laughed. He’d once told Percy, last year before he set out to go into the Labyrinth, that he could recognise your laugh from a mile away. 

“I don’t know what we're gonna do.” He frowned.

“Good thing our girls are Athena kids then, huh?” Luke quipped. Percy’s face dusted red at the insinuation, but the embarrassment was enough to knock him out of his stupor. Luke patted him again, “We’ve got this. And if we don’t, at least we’re going out with a bang, right?”

“Right.” Annabeth sidled up to them. “So are you guys done chatting or are we gonna wait a little longer, give Kronos a head start?”

“Nah, we’re going.” Luke straightened himself, looking each of them in the eye, “Ready?”

They shared some smiles, You and Annabeth did some weird sibling handshake that was way too complicated, then Luke was putting his hand in the centre of them all and waiting for three other hands to join it. “For Olympus?”

“No.” Percy interrupted. He thought about the kids that were ready to fight with their lives, the ones who had already given theirs. He thought about Annabeth and her plans for the future. He thought about you and Luke, and how extravagant your wedding could be with Annabeth as the planner and the Stolls as the ring bearers (an actual conversation he’d overheard the two of you having once), and he thought about how they all deserved peace after the hellish three years they had gone through ever since Zeus’ lightning bolt was stolen, and grinned, “For the demigods.”

“For the demigods!”

He thinks back on that conversation during the meeting with the Olympians after the battle was done. When Athena is thanking you, when Hermes steps up and thanks you too. And when Zeus says, “All rise for Percy Jackson, Hero of Olympus.” He hesitates, holds out a hand and corrects him. The next time the god speaks, it is with your name, Luke’s and Annabeth’s. Percy would have asked him to name everyone who had helped out, but they’d be there all day. 

When all was said and done, he turned around and said, “They coulda told us all that in an email.”

They laughed. You laughed, and when Percy glanced over, Luke was smiling at you.

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

When asked why he doesn't display the same level of power as he did against Trigon, Shego Danny says the more power he brings forth, the closer he gets to being dead. It's true from a certain point of view

Shego was't surprised at the teens dumbfounded expressions. It truly filled him with such glee as their faces twisted with the donning realisation.

Ever since it got out that ''Shego used to be a hero'' the comments about him " joining the good side again" had ramped up!

'"Oh Shego join us and use your powers for the good"' or a remixed version of "'you have such power but you use it for evil"'. Danny had heard it all and it got tiring fast.

So yes Shego would enjoy the horror stricken Faces of the kidi-heros. Because they would. Not. Shut. Up. About. It!

The older heroes had eventually slowed down but not these little twerps. Was it because he held back too much? Should he start hitting them harder so they learned to concentrate on the God damn fight in front of them!?

It had worked great for him so it must be an effective solution!

(He thought he heard a face slap suspiciously sounding like Jazz's echo in the back of his mind.) A quiet swish followed by humming started up, right on que!

"Well brats I gotta go my ride is here and I don't want any of your twerpyness getting on me!" The kids were hit with whiplash by shego's words still and slight guilt.

Aww look at the little baby Heros feeling guilty. Constantly having forced Shego into annoying situations and forcing him into using his powers. How cute they are thinking about what they did.

He still wouldn't forget it and he sure as hell doesn't forgive them but they really are just kids. Isn't it practically teenagers' job to be annoying to adults anyway? Ah to be young again. But speaking about annoying.

"Oi, Shego stop standing around and hop on already!" His boss's filtered voice cracked to life in his com and had him flipping backwards in a rather Nightwing-esk maneuver (not that Nightwing existed quite yet in this dimension) and gave the kiddos a final wave goodbye before jumping on the revving motorcycle his boss drove. Robin looked even more shocked as the bike shot off.

Danny sighed slightly, apparently his boss still loved a flashy exit! The red helm should really have tipped him off about his dramatic nature or the heads in the duffle bag thing a while back. Or maybe future, that was the thing with interdimensional hopping!

Now what he really wanted to know was how much Red hood was going to pay him in compensation for helping out. Because the annoyances Shego would get for "helping" were going to cost Red hood dearly. Mark his words.

"Oh stop being pissy Shego."

"Fuck off Hood you aren't the one that will have to deal with the hero's and their savior complex constantly now." The laugh Danny got in return just cemented his hatred for his boss. :D

Wip of Shego Danny fighting his boss before he became his boss:b Boss was still fresh free from the LOA.

[not-in-your-walls]

I am horrible at coming up with titles for stories, but just know this is g/t 👍

Warning: this will use giant having a human pet concept, and a bit of fearplay

A pet, that’s what I am. Born into a world that was too big for me- into a life where I was nothing, but an animal, meant to be used as a toy, a companion, or whatever my owner wanted me to be. Even still, I had hope. I was raised alongside those who believed giants to be evil, but, seeing so many different types of giants walk into the pet store, adults, teenagers, kids, I knew- no, I hoped they were like us. Human. Unfortunately, it was all for naught.

I was given as a gift to a giant my age- Jacob was his name. He barely paid me any mind. He did his thing, and I did mine. He wasn’t cruel or anything, just…quiet. 

I was seated on his desk, fumbling with an old post-it note, occasionally looking up, watching as he typed away on the computer.

I looked back as I heard the creak of the chair, the lack of the clicking keyboard. He slumped back against the chair. As I was just about to look away, our eyes locked. 

Without warning, I was suddenly lifted several feet into the air, my torso pinched between his thumb and forefinger. I had to fight the urge to squirm, especially when I slowly being lifted towards his face, until I was at eye-level with him. 

His blank stare bore into me. I was airborne, flying and freeing falling within seconds, before landing on something warm…squishy…his hand. I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath as I was once again tossed. My stomach did flips, and once I landed back on the skin, I squeeze my eyes shut. Upon landing on the third time, I tightly grasped on his point finger, my entire body being pressed against it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Please…no more.”

——-

Jacob never really cared about humans, or any of his fellow giants for that matter. It’s not that he was apathetic, more so that he didn’t like people. So when he was gifted a human only a few days prior, he was very clueless on what step to take next. She was relatively quiet, as was he. As usual, while he did his homework, she did her own thing, folding and unfolding a post-it note, seemingly lost in thought. 

He hadn’t know what had came over him, but once he was finished with his homework, he became bored, and what was the first thing he saw? The little human. Without thinking, something he seemed to do much of lately, he pinched her between his thumb and forefinger and brought her up to his face. 

He could feel her writhe within his grip, every tiny movement, her warmth, he could feel at all, but at the time he wasn’t too preoccupied with those thoughts. That being said, he threw her into the air, easily catching her. He had repeated this two more times, head bopping up and down as she rose and fell. 

Once she landed the third time, something different happened. She clutched onto his pointer finger, surprisingly tightly for someone of her statue. Then, she whispered something.

“Please…no more.” He could feel her tiny puffs of air on his finger, her rapid heartbeat. When he moved the finger ever so slightly, she held on tighter. 

She was trembling. 

“Hey…” he whispered. God, she truly looked so…small right now. “I’m not going to throw you.” He tried again. Even with his words, he couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on his lips. He knew finding something like her paralyzing fear of him to be cute was fucked, but he couldn’t help himself. Even still, he continued the gentle approach. 

He began to use his free hand to gently play with her hair, limiting himself to only his pinkie. She shivered underneath every little touch, but also ever so slightly loosened her grip as the minutes passed. 

Eventually, once her grip loosened enough, he brought his hand over to the desk and tilted it, grimacing only after he caused her to roll harshly only it.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He should have never been given a pet.

[wifey-ohara]

ok ok I got an idea

what if Miguel ohara found an orphan who was a spider and decided to raise her🥺

I love this sm🥺🥺🥺

Under my wing

Fatherfigure! miguel&spidy!teen!Fem! Reader

Notes: some angst at the start but the rest is fluffy, good dad miguel, distrustfull reader at first, road trip writing, hcs and drabbles, can you tell i can't write good father figures? That's bc mine doesn't like emotional support:) not proof read

💙Miguel was fighting off an anomaly with some other spider people, shouting orders left and right, when he ordered some feral-looking spider and she went exactly against his order which he was gonna follow them, save her and then scold her about being reckless

🩵but then he noticed that that specific spider was not from his team

💙he saw her swing forward, hit the anomaly with both legs, knocking it off it's feet, and he took that chance and tied it up with webs

🩵she did a couple flips and landed, looked back, and miguel could feel her intense stare at him

💙he was about to call out for her, and maybe even invite her to the spider society

🩵With a roll of your eyes and a "tsk" you jumped forward, swinging away

💙when miguel returned, he searched up your earth and information about you

🩵he found out that you only a teenager living a double-life, been bitten by a spider as a child, and that your parents were your canon and that you're alone in there

💙so he visits your earth a lot to check on you

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

~you said goodbye to your friend and watched them disappear from your sight, leaving you with that uncomfortable feeling of eyes on you, you felt this way alot ever since those many spiders appeared the other day

With a sigh you walked over the little abandoned apartment complex you lived in, put your back pack there and put on your spider suit to patrol the streets

Miguel on the other hand, he only got more protective of you and needing to keep you safe as he watched from afar

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

🩵you didn't see miguel again until another gaint anomaly destroyed your home

💙you were just taking the sight in, the rubble, the dust, the destruction, another home crumbling before your own eyes, and again you couldn't save it, so you just stared at it, thinking what stuff of yours survived,probably none

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

You sighed, deeply, then, your spidey senses were ringing in your head, you turned around, ready to fight whoever it is, pulling down your mask

It was that big spider-man, and you felt uneasy about his stare, but you pulled your mask off anyway

" what" you attacked,no actual violence in your voice, you were so tired, and now even more homeless then before

"you're looking at the apartment complex a little too long" he answered, calm, yet somehow knowing? You hated that

"yeah well i lived there" you rolled your eyes

"it looks abandoned?" he inquired yet teased, you hated the brain games he's playing

"i never said others do, also cut the crap, what do you want" you snapped weakly

"ok" he lifted his forearms in front of him "i noticed that your are most times alone, and homeless as it turns out and i wanted to invite to the spider society" he offered

You were quiet for a moment

"so it was you" you yelled, annoyed "why the fuck were you stalking me like that, was it so hard to

talk to me?"

"no but i need to know you before inviting people into my society" he reasoned

With a scoff you asked "what's this- pfft- i don't know spider group thing?"

"a society from people just like you from other universes, team up and fight off what might be in the way of the smooth running of multi-verse, seeing your circumstances, i think you'd like it" he adviced.

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

🩵And boom! You→in spider society!!

💙you sticked to miguel's side most time, he didn't mind one bit

🩵you'd sit in his office while he works, scrolling on your phone/tablet (or whatever you like) that miguel got you despite you arguing that he didn't have to

💙"I've seen the kids carrying them around, i think its important to y'all or something " he argues,knowing damn well that its a luxury thing

🩵you get him lunch everyday and you two eat it together, talk about stuff and all that father/daughter all that good stuff

💙you two joke around lots too! You'd crack a joke and he'll chuckle and add to it until you're crying laughing

🩵you join him on most missions, its more of you swinging and playing around and helping whenever you can, and he actually fights it off

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

"oh my god!" you yelled when he stopped beside you "are you spider man!?" you asked him, acting like a fan girl who just saw her dream idol

His wide eyes turned into an eye roll at you as he swung away again

You laughed about to get down from the wall you were clinging on, when it broke with some force, knocking you down

A surprised noise tore off your throat as you fell down, you turned around, your back facing the ground, looking for something to web yourself to

On the other hand, miguel felt the life leave his body

He's losing A daughter, again, he couldn't let that happen

He swung to you, wrapping you in red webbing just as you webbed yourself to another building, he pulled you up to him and held you

"are you ok!" he checked frantic, looking you over for the smallest cut

"I'm fine" you smiled "it just caught me off guard "

He sat you both on a surface, gears turning in their head, then he took a deep breath "go back to HQ" he told you, voice gentle

"what? Why!?" you asked, surprised by his offer

"just do what i say.. Please" he pleaded

"alright.." you argeed, releasing his arms as they lowered from your shoulders

Stepping back, clicking a few bottoms on your watch, making a portal appear behind you

"be safe!" you said, before stepping into it

•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•❥•

💙you two didn't talk about that day since

🩵you of course knew about his daughter and past

💙 that day, he acted weird, and you just thought that it was because he had a long day

🩵he became more protective of you, not letting you go to as many missions as before, it annoyed you a bit but you chalked it up to you being reckless and careless and he couldn't have you fucking up missions

💙he'd call you things like "mija" or "niña" yk indearments and cutesy stuff like that

🩵you're so petty most times, and you like to get under his skin so you and lyla gang up on him

💙he doesn't like hobie being around you, but you do, soo that's that..

🩵he teaches you (mostly technology) stuff and answes all your questions

💙after a year and some months, you gave him "the best father" gift card on Father's Day and he went home and cried about it

🩵after that he became even softer (somehow) with you

💙"I'm proud of you"s and "good job kid"s were a reaccuring

🩵he asked to move in with him from the HQ rooms and you agreed, and hugged him

💙he spends more time off now, with you, learning more about you hobbies and interests, cheering you on

🩵you started calling him dad, he teared up the first few times when you did, still warms his heart everytime

💙he helps you with school, and not in a "WHAT'S 5 TIMES 7 while you cry " kinda way lol

🩵he scares off any dating possibilities too

💙if you have a bad day, he'd be a lil sad that you didn't call him first thing, but he'd buy you/make you your favorite food and sits with you and listen to you ramble about it if you want, if not, he'd sit with you on the couch watching a movie

🩵he lets you do wierd things on his face ( "dad they're called face maskes!)

💙he tells you dad jokes ironically, you always roll eyes at him

🩵you're an endless supply of old man jokes ("mija I'm not even that old what the fuck")

💙so yeah,it's happy vibes all around

You guess it, next is probabs platonic hobie

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: sexual content included I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary:A sub needs a dom, a dom wants a sub but what happens when feelings overlap with contracts and love creeps in? Will a contract remain only a contract? Or are emotions like love too hard to keep in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath​ , thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Also thank you so much for writing my summary xx

Y/N POV 

Waking up to your alarm, you couldn’t help but feel Chan's arms tighten around you as you struggled to turn the phone off.

You turn your body around now, face to face with Chan, his eyes still closed as he pulls you closer to him, his nose touching yours; you wrap your leg around his hip as he caresses your thigh. 

“Morning”, you whisper, combing your hands through his hair.

“Shhhhh, I’m still sleeping”, he mumbles, making you smile; he is so loving and soft at this moment you can’t help but stare at him. 

“I have to get up”, you continue as Chan's grip on your thigh tightens. 

He presses his lips against yours, whispering, "I said shhh.". His hands move up your body, caressing it as he moves. You can feel your heart racing as you realise your situation. You close your eyes and surrender to the moment. Moving your lips in the sink, Chan moves his hand to your lower back, pressing you further into his body, his member hardening as you roll your hips slightly. 

The thought of this man being so easy to turn on made you giggle. "What?" Chan says, pulling away. 

"Nothing. I just find it cute. You're so easy to turn on,” you said before reconnecting your lips.

Chan pov 

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU, CHRISTOPHER? Fucking pull yourself together; you’re 26 years old and acting like a horny fucking teenager. I can’t help how her hips roll perfectly against my cock, her lips so soft and plump. 

I think……SHIT……I think I’m falling for my sub…..

I need to pull myself back into reality. "Go get ready for work”, I growl, annoyed that I surrendered to her again. 

“Why so grumpy,” she said, pouting before connecting her lips to mine. 

“I said go get ready…you’ll be late” Doing as I said, Y/N got up off the bed.

“You know I could be late today. What’s Bec going to do? Fire me” Her laughter was so intoxicating;. I would have taken her up on the offer if I hadn’t been at the company this morning.

“Baby girl. There isn’t enough time,” I said, getting off the bed.

Y/N grins as she walks into her closet. Following her, I lean against the doorway. “Don’t you have to get dressed?” she said, putting her jeans on. 

I ignored her and continued to watch her getting ready for her day. “Sir, at this point.... you're late for your promotions” She walked over to me, placing her hand on my chest. 

Y/N POV 

He’s acting so strange right now, Sir?.... Your heart is beating so fast.” 

He quickly steps back “ I uh don’t feel well”, his face becoming flushed. “A couple of the boys have had a cold….I think maybe I got it from them.” 

“I don’t have to go to work…if you’re not feeling well”, you smiled, pulling out your phone.

"No...." he clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I have to go to work.” 

“Okay…but tonight I’ll make you some nice soup…and I’ll even let you pick the movie", you smile softly.

Chan smiles as his eyes flick to your lips. He leans in closer and whispers, “Deal.” He takes your hand in his, pressing his fingertips against yours before locking your fingers together. 

…….

“I’ll see you tonight then” he smiles softly before kissing your cheek as the car pulls up to your work. 

You lean in and softly kiss Chan's lips, not caring if he’s unwell. “Baby girl, you’ll get sick” his eyes glow.

“It’s okay,” you said, reconnecting your lips. You could tell Master Chan was fighting the rage to pull you over the centre console and fuck you stupid in this car park. His crinkled nose and eyes that were squeezed shut said it all. 

“I really have to go..." you said, pulling away. Chan's eyes remained shut for just a moment longer. 

"Yes," he replied as he returned to reality.

You grab your handbag and open the car door. “Have a good day, sir." You smile as you exit the car. 

“You too, baby girl” he gives you a soft smile as you close the door, his eyes following you as you enter the shop. 

CHAN POV 

My eyes follow her into the building. "God, she’s just so breathtaking”, I say to myself, still amazed at how I managed to score a girl like Y/N. I feel my heart skip a beat as I can’t stop thing about her on the way to work. I can't help but smile.

………

“Earth to Hyung,” Minho says, waving his hands in my face.

“Oh, sorry, what’s up?" I said, snapping out of my daydream.

“You feel alright?” He continued 

“Oh ummm….I think I caught what Jeongin had” Great, now I’m continuing my lie at work as well; good job, Chan. 

Minho places his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel sick.” 

“Minho, just stop it,” I say, shooing away his hand. Why does he always catch me out in a lie? 

“Sorry, Hyung. Just trying to help,” he said, looking down. 

“ I know you are…I don’t mean to be snappy,” I said, feeling horrible about the way I spoke to him. 

“Mmmm,” Minho said; now he’s got an attitude with me great. 

Y/N POV 

“Okay, the new owner will be here before closing, so can you show him around, please?" Bec said as you were packing up the stuff behind the counter.

“Sure, no problem at all….what is his name?" you said, trying to make some conversation.

“Oh, it’s…..actually, to be honest with you, I can’t remember,” she laughed.

“That’s okay. I’m sure he’ll say it when he arrives”, you laughed, continuing on with the packing. 

“Well, I’m gonna go….thank you again; I honestly appreciate you” Bec smiled before she grabbed her bag and walked out the door. 

CHAN POV 

“Hyung…are you sure you're okay?…. I’m happy to stay with you if you’re sick” Minho was not letting up; if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was into me.

“Minho honestly….I’m okay…I just feel a little sick, that’s all." Why do I keep doing this? It’s like I must keep repeating it to believe it myself.

What am I supposed to do? Say, “Minho, I’m not sick. It's actually worse…for years, I’ve had this secret life….I’ve been seeing a girl behind everyone’s back….oh she’s also moving in with me in 2 weeks….not to mention I’ve got her a job with JYP because I’m a possessive asshole and want to keep her close to me…because well….I might actually be falling for her” NO….lying is easier. 

“Okay, but I honestly think you should go home after this schedule…..you’ve been zoned out all day.” Minho was an amazing observer; he was the first to figure out anything in the group. Honestly, nothing gets past this man, which is why I’m so nervous. 

“I think you're right, Minho, thanks” I smiled as our names were called to sit again. 

Y/N POV 

Chan

“I’m finishing early today…what time do you close again?” 

Y/N 

“Like 3….just have to wait for the new owner.” 

Chan

“Him? Or her?”

Chan's jealousy made you giggle 

Y/N 

“It’s a man, Chan 😂” 

Chan 

“😑” 

Y/N 

“🙄”

Chan

“Hey… don’t roll your eyes at me…I may be sick, but I’m not above smacking your ass….I’m on my way.” 

Y/N

“Ooooo….is that a promise..😘” 

You giggle as you hear the door open. Quickly put down your phone, and look up. “Good aft…….Dylan?” Your jaw drops, your body stiffens. You feel a wave of nervousness come over you as you realise it was Dylan who just walked in. You weren't expecting him. He stares at you for a few moments before speaking. "Hello, Love", he smirks as he walks over to you, almost like he knows this is the place you work.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice begins to quiver. 

“Oh, sweetie….I’m the new owner” he steps closer, lifting your chin up to look at him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me?” you say, swiping his hand away from your face. 

���Don’t be like that, baby” he closes the gap between you; your body is now paralysed. “I thought I’d never find you,” he said, leaning in; you are unable to move. WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Suddenly Dylan gets pulled away from you. “SHE SAID DON'T TOUCH HER” When did Chan get here? How much had he seen? You suddenly snap out of your head when Chan punches Dylan in the face. 

“Channie, STOP” you yell, trying to stop Chan from almost killing him. 

“FUCKING TOUCH WHATS MINE AGAIN AND ILL KILL YOU” he yells as you are now standing between him and Dylan.

Looking down, Chan cups your face. “You okay?” He says with watery eyes. 

You nod as all chans attention turns to you, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m okay” you reassure him. 

CHAN POV 

Pulling up to the front of the Y/N shop, I couldn’t help but get a feeling something wasn’t right. Watching this man walk in wearing a suit, I thought that he could be the new owner Y/N had mentioned he was visiting today. 

He gave me an off feeling, so without wanting Y/N to see me, I thought I’d stand close to the entrance in case she needed me. As I approached the door, I heard her, “Don’t fucking touch me” My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach; she sounded terrified. 

I busted through the entrance and saw him standing in front of her. He had a menacing look in his eyes, and his body language was aggressive. I could tell he was trying to intimidate her and was relieved she had the courage to stand up to him.

“Don’t be like that, baby” I felt my hand close into a ball. HOW FUCKING DARE HE? “I thought I’d never find you." The moment he lifted her chin, I saw red. 

I wanted to hit him, to make him feel the same kind of helplessness he had made her feel. I could feel my blood boiling, and I wanted to make him pay for his words. I took a step forward, ready to make him regret ever crossing our paths. I pull him out of her space and punch him in his smug face. “SHE SAID DON'T TOUCH HER". 

He stumbled back, his hand over his face. I could see the shock and fear in his eyes. I felt a sense of satisfaction as I watched his eyes water. “Channie, STOP,” Y/N said, snapping me back into reality.

“FUCKING TOUCH WHATS MINE AGAIN AND ILL KILL YOU” I yelled over the top of her. I wanted him to know that she's mine and ill never let anything get in my way of having her.

Her terrified face made me soften instantly. "You okay?"... "I'm okay," she nodded, and I wrapped her arms around me. I wanted her to know that I would never let anyone hurt her. I kissed the top of her head, and we stayed like that for a few moments before I finally let go.

I looked into her eyes and smiled. "You're safe now," I said reassuringly. I touched her cheek gently before taking her hand in mine.

"This guy? Really? Y/N?" She nodded and looked away. I hugged her tightly, and she let out a deep breath. "It's going to be alright," I said, completely ignoring him. 

"I knew you had a new dom.... but this guy?..... how embarrassing"

I looked up at him, and my blood was boiling. I wanted to punch him. "Want me to fucking break your nose?" 

"Sir, let's just go", she said, grabbing my hand again.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, pulling my hand away. I stepped closer to him and glared. "I'll repeat my question...Do you want me to break your nose? I swear I'll do it."

"No," Y/N said, shaking her head. She reached out and grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Please, let's just go home." I nodded, the fight draining out of me as I realised how I had been so close to losing control. I felt a wave of shame wash over me as I stepped away from the confrontation. Taking Y/N's hand, I silently led the way back to the car.

Y/N POV

He opens the car door for you. “I will talk about this at home”, he growls; why was he so angry? 

Once you pull into the driveway, Chan stops the car and sighs, “Sir, what happened back there….I’m” 

“Don’t say you’re sorry” he growled. “Stop apologising for doing nothing wrong.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking down.

“Look at me”, he growls, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “I’m sorry you had to see that side of me”, his finger brushing along your bottom lip. “I thought I was gonna lose you” those words made your heart flutter. 

You had only known Chan briefly; however, how he made you feel was undeniable. “I’m not going anywhere”, you said, cupping his face, his eyes closing as his cheek pressed further into your touch. 

“Let’s go inside…..I promised you soup” You smile, chans eyes flick open. 

Chan leans in “But first”, he grabs your throat gently and pulls you in, kissing you softly as his hand squeezes just tight enough. 

Your body tingles as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. 

“When we get inside….I gonna rip your clothes off,” he said, pulling back for air. “Then…..I’m gonna kiss every inch of what’s mine,” he pants .

“Is that all?” you say, encouraging him to continue. 

“No, then I’m going to make you scream my name repeatedly,” he growls. The hunger in his eyes takes over. He holds your face in his hands and places his lips onto yours. His kiss is filled with passion. His hands start to wander your body, exploring every inch of it.

His touch is electrifying, and you can feel your body trembling. You can feel your heart racing and your body screaming for more. He pulls away and looks into your eyes, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His hands grip your waist tightly, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

A/n: thank you all so much…..please like and reblog helps me keep motivation 🤣

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[allwormdiet]

Arc 1: Gestation, Concluding Thoughts

Two days in the life of Taylor Hebert, with a bonus one night in the life of Danny Hebert. Let's break it down.

Right now, initial feelings are really positive. I like this arc, I get why people are in on this in such a hardcore fashion, like it's making sense to me as I'm reading it. The characterization is really strong, the A to B plot is cool, and the first fight scene was a fucking banger to open up with.

And like, shit, I get why Taylor is throwing herself into cape life, right? Civilian life is already such fucking misery for her, utterly alone and the only person who's theoretically in her corner is sympathetic but just as helpless as she is. Yeah sure, mortal peril, but if she had nothing to do I feel like the bullying would've killed her eventually. Death versus Lung is at least marginally more noble than death by Emma. And isn't that fucking bleak.

Looking ahead a little bit towards Arc 2 and I'm immensely curious how long it'll take Taylor to do cape stuff again. I feel like I'd need a solid month to process the whole "near death experience" thing and then spend time sweating over whether I even put the mask on ever again. Meanwhile I wouldn't be surprised if Taylor went back out in like a week, because she's a hardcore maniac.

It's also very interesting looking at this and considering the exact sequence of events that went through these chapters. If the bullies didn't wreck Taylor's notebook, or if Taylor took a different message away from its destruction, there might be one or more dead Undersiders right now, and to a lesser extent Armsmaster wouldn't both get credit for a major capture and also owe this rookie hero a favor. Both of those things are going to matter a lot, and it's, I dunno, some people would call that contrived but real life is so full of weird coincidence and happenstance I can buy this no problem.

...Honestly now I get why so many AUs that diverge before this point still include the Lung fight and the Undersiders and Armsmaster meetings, like yeah at that point it's contrivance but I'm not going to sweat an author too hard because they don't want to figure out how fucking dramatic the butterfly effect (hah, butterfly) would be on the rest of the story. Like yeah it's contrived, but that's a lot of work they'd have to do otherwise.

That aside, I'm gonna get back on topic and meditate on my current gripes. 1.3 was a legitimate low point in this arc with the description of the Docks and its residents and their circumstances, and the total clusterfuck of the Azn Bad Boys, which. By the by this is the last time I'm going to say the full name of that gang, ABB is shorter and is less embarrassing for everybody involved. Wall-to-wall racism, classism, and an utter lack of sympathy for the lesser-thans. Like we're talking about crack whores in the year of our lord 2011, or, they were written about in 2011 and I'm hollering about it on the internet in 2024. When this kind of thing comes back up (when, not if, I'm not that optimistic) I just hope I can work around it, like eating everything but the bruise on an apple.

To close this out, I'm thinking about the people in Taylor's life. Emma, a former friend turned bully, and her cronies Madison and Sophia. Pretty shallow characterization at this point, just that they're cruel to the point of hospitalizing their victim. Danny Hebert is supportive, but has all the strength of a sponge when it comes to holding up against the pressures that weigh on Taylor, and he knows it but he's not doing anything differently. The Undersiders, criminals who mistake Taylor for a criminal, but identify her correctly as a comrade and potential friend, who realize she was fighting for them and went to fight for her. Armsmaster, who offers her very genuine and very sought-after praise as an authority figure, and then leans on that authority to get what he wants out of a freshly traumatized and exhausted teenager.

Is it any wonder that Taylor takes the path that she does? Would anyone have it in them to be surprised if they could see all of this from a bird's eye view?

I wonder if Armsmaster ever thinks back about this night, lying awake in bed. If he ever wonders what he could or should have done differently, or if he couldn't have done anything to divert course.

I was talking to my girlfriend about something related to this the other night, actually. If it's worse in a tragedy for there to have been a chance to avert it all, or if it's worse for the end to be inevitable. Looking at Taylor, looking at Brockton Bay, looking at Earth Bet? I dunno. If someone had acted early, with knowledge and intention sufficient to actually provide aid, maybe it would've been enough, but hell. Maybe not. I don’t know which possibility is more damning.

...I get melancholy when it's late, but I don't think it'd be right to delete all that; it's how I'm feeling about the novel, and that's what this blog is for, so even if it's a bit dramatic it'd be self-defeating to pretend I didn't say it.

Arc 2... probably starts tomorrow, assuming nothing comes up. Glad to say I'm looking forward to it.

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday!

Hi! How are we all doing after the episode? I've had the most insane week of my life last week, and spent around 60 hours at the hospital (I think), with active shooters and emergency caesareans so didn't manage any words until this morning. I think I live in the Grey's Anatomy universe lowkey dsfkdfs. Please enjoy a little bit of Eddie Lore from Frostpunk AU!!

Tagged for FIF by @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @daffi-990, @hippolotamus and @steadfastsaturnsrings, please go check out all their works! Daffi has a new Rivals chapter out and it is INCREDIBLE

It takes a couple of weeks before the doctors think Eddie and Christopher are strong enough to leave the hospital. Christopher recovers fast, much to Eddie’s relief, and he would be allowed to leave the hospital a week before Eddie, but there’s nowhere for him to go, and Eddie doesn’t want him to leave his side. He’s almost lost his son once; he’s not going to let it happen again.

He’s got a feeling Buck is plotting something. The man has been by his and Christopher’s bedside almost every day since they woke up – and, Eddie suspects, every day before they woke up – with a short break to go out on another mission that he’d grumbled no end about. But lately he’s been talking in hushed tones with Hen and Chimney, and even Bobby, before returning to his chair and pretending nothing had happened. It’s suspicious, to say the least.

Eddie’s still not entirely sure why he feels so at ease with Buck. He barely knows the guy, with only the vaguest, blurriest memories of him before the hospital, but he’s started to wonder if the calm, angel-like presence he felt during his coma might be the same as he feels when Buck is nearby. If Buck was his angel.

They talk a lot. There’s not really much else to do, and Buck seems content to sit and listen to Eddie talk about their life back in Sector 126. Eddie tells him about his parents and his sisters, and what it was like growing up with them.

He tells Buck about how Sector 126 was very devout and focused a lot of their laws off the word of God. How his parents raised him as a good, God-fearing boy but he never felt he was entirely there with them about it all. How he met Shannon and they immediately clicked, becoming inseparable as two teenagers, rebelling against their Sector’s laws as often as they could. How Shannon had come to him 5 months into their relationship to say she hadn’t bled in two months and couldn’t stop throwing up. How Eddie had immediately escaped to the Army Warehouse, claiming it was to support him and Shannon so they can move into a tent of their own.

He tells Buck about raising Christopher with cerebral palsy in a Sector that didn’t believe in taking drastic measures, instead believing that God would provide. How he’d had to resuscitate his newborn son because none of the medics would. Buck holds his hand as he gets choked up, and Eddie feels a relief as the weight of the last seven years lifts off his shoulders. Buck listens and listens as Eddie relives the worst moments of his life as he talks about how he and Shannon decided they couldn’t be together, but they also couldn’t stay in Sector 126 with Christopher, because their son needed help they couldn’t provide him.

When he tells Buck about how Shannon had died 3 days into their journey, frozen overnight because she wouldn’t let Eddie hold her in their shelter as they’d had a fight and she was furious with him, Buck holds him while he cries. He lets himself sink into Buck’s arms, tears streaming down his face and eyes listing shut as Buck scratches his fingers through Eddie’s hair and whispers soothing words into his ear.

He'll never forgive himself for what happened to Shannon, but Buck makes him wonder if maybe he could move on. To allow himself to be happy for the first time in his life.

No pressure tagging

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