#when will you all get it through ur thick skulls

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

What interests me most in Quaritch’s and Spider’s relationship is The Tragedy. Quaritch is an asshole who wants to kill Na’vi but he also has nothing else going for him, so he does what he’s told because without the mission he has no purpose. Spider is a kid who was neglected by EVERYBODY and never had an adult care for him. Then BOOM, they meet and are forced to work together. The movie had not given them a lot of screen time but the fact that Spider felt safe enough around the recoms to crack jokes and be playful says a lot. The scene where he teaches Miles Na’vi and puts a hand on his knee, unafraid of physical contact also shows that they’ve grown quite close in the past months.

And then Quaritch fucks it up. He goes back into his old ways and only cuts corners out of fear that Spider will hate him until the end of days, but he already does so because after months of camping out in the forest and having their Disney found family arc, the poor kid is confronted with the fact that his not-dad-dad had not changed in any way that matters. The only thing that changed about Q is the fact that he now has one (1) person he cares about. Spider got taken away from his home, somehow experienced what it was like to be loved (even if said love was the bare minimum) and then was brutally reminded that the person who loves him is an actual demon.

In the end, a happy ending was never meant to be. They are enemies, and could never support the other’s cause and yet they still love one another, and they fucking hate that they love one another, which is my favorite part. In separate interviews, both Slang and Jack had confirmed that both characters have a mighty soft spot for one another, even if they resent it. The bond they have built is there and not Spider, nor Quaritch can shake it off.

I've let this sit in my asks for a while now cause I knew I would get fired up. Yeah from the get go in your post you are already being extremely charitable to Quaritch in a way that sits really poorly with me.

-"Quaritch has nothing else going for him if he's not fulfilling his mission and killing Na'vi." I don't understand where you guys fabricate this tragic past for Quartich from, in the first movie he literally says he chose to extend his tour on Pandora because of his hatred for the Na'vi. He was going back to Earth, where who knows who was waiting for him? Saying he has no family or friends is entirely made up, especially when we know he had a girlfriend and a child at the time.

-"They were forced to work together" HUGE fucking reach dude. Spider is sure forced to work for Quaritch. But Quaritch kidnapped him, took him as a prisoner of war, brought him to be tortured for informatin, uses him as a forced teacher and translator as he burns down and threatens civilian villages. These are all decisions he makes intentionally (not forced!) and are all fun little war crimes.

-I think calling Spider playful around the recoms for that one scene where he mocks Quaritch's Na'vi is rather crazy. Saying they've grown quite close, that they've had a 'Disney family arc,' I really hope you are really young and you'll mature. YOU CAN'T DEVELOP A GOOD AND HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP WITH SOMEONE UNDER DURESS. Spider is a prisoner! The entire time! Any relationship basis is stockholm syndrome, because every interaction is colored with the fact that any of the recoms, Quaritch, could hurt him or kill him at any time. They could take him back to be tortured. He can't do what he wants. He cannot leave. So every action that isn't harmful feels ten times better because he knows it COULD BE and might be at any second. It's why the cycle of abuse is so powerful, when the norm is pain, kindness feels so unexpected and undeserved. It's really harmful to paint these relationships as good.

-"Quaritch has changed because now he has someone he cares about." Well fuck me, I guess Spider didn't matter when he god damn existed in the 2009 movie??

-The bond that is built is a toxic one based on abuse and manipulation. It's stockholm syndrome, it's lima syndrome. It will definitely be interesting, but you are right about that one thing: it will never work out.

[ervotica]

patrick gets horny whenver u send him a voice message like even if it's just u saying '' i found the best cereals ever at the supermarket this morning'' it gets him hard like he just finds ur voice hot

literally you’ll be rambling on in a voice message about the silliest shit like “omg babe look what i found at the store this morning you wanna see?” and he’s BRICKED UP sending you a picture of the prominent imprint of his leaking cock through his jeans, a wet spot forming where the drooling tip presses against the hard denim — because let’s be for real this man does not wear underwear for the most part.

he’s sending you a grainy video on his shitty little phone, groaning in the background as he tugs his cock free and swipes a thumb over the head to collect a bead of pre, smearing it across the length of him that twitches with each featherlight touch.

you’re sending him another voice note, then, purposefully sultry, voice breathy and quiet with anticipation.

your phone rings. once, then twice. you let it ring for a while before answering; and when you do, you are not disappointed.

you can hear the clenching of his jaw, the tick of that vein that pops with every grunt as he fucks his own hand fervidly, no doubt leaking all over himself. you hear the wet rutting of his hips and the slick sounds of his fist flying over his cock.

and he’s gasping, throat working around the desperate sound as he pleads, begs you over the phone to come over. to help him.

who would you be if you didn’t oblige him?

you’re only five minutes away anyway, and you know exactly where to find him.

sprawled on the bed, t-shirt hiked up over his abdomen that bows and dips with every heavy breath, resting just above twin red nipples that are peaked with the chill of the room. jeans around his thighs, dusted with dark hair, and the bush around his sack curling out and over the zip of the tight material.

he’s furiously rocking his hips up into his own hand, shining with sweat that you want to lean down and lick out of his every pore like a thirsty kitten.

so you play the role of the good girlfriend and get on your knees when he asks in that gravelly cadence that flips your insides out. laying with your cheek against his thigh, cockhead resting against the back of your throat, lips stretched thin over the girth of him and nose pressed snugly to that thick thatch of hair at the base of him. just… resting there. letting him sit comfortably as his cock drools liquid down the back of your throat - what it is, you don’t care, you take it all greedily despite not knowing.

when he’s finally tired of waiting, he hooks those thick thighs up and around your neck, clamped either side of your head. and uses you like a toy, fingers curled cruelly into your hair, moving you up and down on the length of him with such vigor you’re worried he might be rattling your skull.

not that you can think about the repercussions. you’re too enamored by the way you’re making him feel good - so, so good. perfect, he says.

your thighs tighten of their own accord when you think of the reward you’ll get later for this.

[abbystromboli]

hey! I've asked like 57 other HP fic writers to do this but none of them have done it... PLEZ DONT LET MEH DOWN I LOVED UR FIC ABOUT RON WEASLEY

so how do you think that Hogwarts bis would react to getting in... suggestive positions with you during a game of twister.

specifically I really wanna see the reactions of Draco, Harry, Ron, Theo, and Mattheo

ILYSM

awwweeee Ilysm! the Ron fic is my fav toooooo!!!!!!

How they would react to getting in suggestive poses with you in Twister.

Draco Malfoy.

He was doing amazing at the game, taking out his competition with a few well-aimed kicks, when he heard the fateful words.

"left hand on red"

the only red available is one that props you over him, unfortunately hanging your tits in his face.

he's dumbfounded as you prop yourself there,

He gets so distracted, trying not to lose the whole game and his dignity

he goes tumbling down, and starts yelling about how you interfered and should be eliminated

when Blaise asks how you interfered Draco goes red in the face.

he knows he can't admit that he got a boner mid game.

Harry Potter

Harry was trying his hardest not to fall down laughing at some dumb joke that Ron had made,

”left foot on blue”

you accidentally make eye contact with the already reddened face of the chosen one, as you each realized what that position entails.

You prop yourself up into a position that could only be described as straddling him,

giving yourself a cramp as you try with all your might to hover over him instead of making contact with his groin.

after a few seconds he’ll whisper into your ear.

”I swear to Godrick, I’ll do all of your homework for a week, just. Give. Up.”

ya know... its pretty easy to get a sex slave outta this guy when he starts bargaining like that

Ron Weasley

I see this going one way and one way only.

This time, Ron (just his luck) is the one who gets the unlucky positioning

He has to prop himself In a way that he’s essentially pinning you down

his face goes red as you smirk at him over your shoulder and lightly push your ass up higher to meet his hard on.

he’d try to make himself lose in a classy way,

but he’d end up falling down onto you,

making a scene for all the gryffindors to gawk and tease about for the next few years.

Theodore Nott

My boy Theo is THE DEFINITION of sleek on the streets but a freak in the sheets

The game is going great, competition is dropping like flies, some people are even cheating in order to win.

"right foot on yellow"

You're pinned in a missionary position with Theo (while, of course, Dracos squirming around in the background, being a little bitch and tripping people)

He smiles down at you, this hoe is more comfortable with public spooning than you are, by a long run.

He might whisper sweet nothings in your ear, just to mess up your focus.

"why so tense amore mio?"

That's it. That's the end, game over (for you, at least. He goes on and wins the whole thing, and then makes an apology to you by the only way that seems to get through your thick little skull... fucking)

Mattheo Riddle

If Draco is cheating his way through the game, then I don't even know how to describe what Matthew is doing.

Mattheo should've lost in the first minute of the game.

should've, but luckily for him, his threats tend to come out pretty damn intimidating.

When you get stuck a position where your both lewdly intertwined, of course he tries the same thing with you.

"Give up, I know a wide array of jinxes that'd make your perky little ass shrivel."

Of course, you know he'd never do anything like that to you, so you can't help but giggle

Unfortunately for you, Mattheo doesn't find it funny.

He causes both of you to fall down and lose.

Probably grabs you by the wrist, takes you to his dorm, and makes good on his promise to make your ass shrivel... IN A WAY OTHER THAN JINXES

HOPE YOU LIKED THIS POOKIE! my inboxes are open and if you request something I will 100% write it bc it sparks joy :} ILY GUYS

[chimielie]

“I’m just saying,” you tell your roommate as she shoves her wallet into her purse while you scoop up two of her bags, “spending so much money here for gourmet groceries is...”

You trail off as you realize that she’s more preoccupied with spending an extra second staring at the cashier she’s been pining after (expensively, you might add, because she comes here every week just to stand in his line) than listening to your half-hearted lecture. You glance back at him with her, jolting when you notice someone crossing in front of you from the corner of your eye.

“Move, register's mine for the next hour.” You look involuntarily at the speaker, who taps your friend’s crush (Yahaba, his nametag reads) on the shoulder. It’s a crowded space, so you stare up at the replacement cashier from scarcely six inches away, absorbing his visage like several blows directly to the kidneys.

He’s thicker-set and shorter than Yahaba, hair shaved to his skull and dyed blond with the exception of two dark stripes at his temples. Two tiny metal spheres straddle his left eyebrow, featuring above lashes so long he might as well be wearing eyeliner (actually, he might be) over burning eyes you could spend hours admiring. And—be still your beating heart—the shaved head reveals thick black hoops hung in his ears, glinting merrily under the fluorescents. There are piercings studded into the cartilage above, too, matching his eyebrow jewelry. He turns a little, so you can see the nametag pinned to his tie-dyed shirt; it reads Tarō, in awful scrawled handwriting.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my whole entire life,” you say loudly, not a single thought passing through your brain prior to or during the process of speaking.

He stops talking and stares at you. The sounds of the store, the squeaks of cart wheels and the music over the speakers, are suddenly headache inducing. Your friend slaps you lightly on the arm, a motion that you read immediately as you did not just say that, holy shit.

“Say thank you, Kyō,” Yahaba says jokingly, and she emits a noise too high-pitched to actually be laughter. Your face, meanwhile, is frozen. You think you might actually be deceased. This must be rigor mortis.

“Don't think I’ve ever been called beautiful before,” he says, squinting those gorgeous eyes like he's trying to decipher a dead language.

“I am so sorry,” you say, reaching out to haul your ass and your roommate’s out of here now. Your hand closes around nothing and you look around to find her engrossed in conversation with Yahaba, who is now apparently off the clock despite his replacement coworker wasting time looking at you like someone might look at a dead fish that had been thrown at them. “Um. I am so sorry. I didn’t intend to... harass you at work.”

He grunts in dismissal, flashing you a smirk that reveals fanged canines, and if you’ve had one thought that’s inappropriate in a public setting, you’ve had them all by now. “I have to deal with—” He tilts his head toward the growing line, cussing under his breath and rolling his eyes. “You have a good night, though."

Despite your miserable shame, you take comfort knowing that your friend finally had a real conversation with Yahaba, even getting his number while you suffered under his intense gaze. You can cope with embarrassment if it brings something good into the world.

The silver lining is gilded over when, at two minutes past ten, you get a text from an unknown number.

just closed. u doing anything now?

this is kentarō from the grocery. i got ur number from yahaba who got it from ur friend.

hope thats ok

You smile at your phone, envisioning the wrinkle between his brows as he typed the last message. You're gonna have to start budgeting for fancier groceries.

[moralisist]

e-42! miles x fem coded! reader

genre: fluff !

summary: boyfriend hcs for earth 42 miles

when he first met you, he was infatuated with u right away

he was asking his homeboys if they knew of you and asking to get your instagram

was very bold when he found u thru instagram, he liked all ur highlights/posts and then texted you saying “hey beautiful, i’m tryna get to know you, that cool?”

ever since then y’all been locked in

speaking of instagram, he does NOT post like AT ALL his entire instagram has no profile pics, no posts and only one highlight and it’s of the both of you

he has a shit ton of followers despite that but he only follows rappers he likes, his homeboys, you, and that’s about it he’s rlly a lowkey person

the typa pictures he posts of y’all are so cute they’re like this and this

very lowkey w it

#1 hypeman, anytime you guys go anywhere he will always compliment you on your looks and remind you how beautiful you look the whole time

“baby you look so goooooddd. m’so lucky to have you” miles says while grabbing you by the waist w one arm and giving you a lingering kiss on the cheek

feels the need to protect you on a constant, so hand is constantly around your waist when walking to busy places or you have to be holding his hand

you argue that he’s not really tryna keep you safe, he just wants an excuse to touch you 😭

so important that you get along with his mom, she and uncle aaron are all he has left family wise and she matters the most to him

with prowler buisness, whether you know or not he’ll never ever get you involved or tell you things that you do not need to know

dates are hard to get with him and it causes arguments sometimes because all you wanna do is see him but he’s always occupied with prowler stuff unbeknownst to you so you just assume he’s being flaky just because

with arguments, he tries his best to communicate with you even tho he doesn’t really know how so he needs someone that’s a good communicator rather than someone who’ll ignore him or be petty with him when their upset w him

when he feels angry or upset with you, he’s learned he needs to take a deep breath and not say anything he’ll regret later because he lowkey has a temper on him

he will tell you in advance that he needs time to process his emotions but will come back to you and slowly but surely explain why he didn’t like what you did

if it’s vice versa tho, sometimes he has a hard time understanding your pov and gets defensive

once you get it through his thick skull and make him understand he apologizes multiple times

he doesn’t say “i’m gonna do better” he just learns to do better

he’d rather show you then just throw empty promises in your face

love language is physical touch, just loves having his hands on you and if you’re not a touchy person no worries, he also shows his love language through acts of service

“i made you some lunch since you said you didn’t eat today. i don’t care if you not hungry, go and eat the plate i made you ma.”

“you didn’t come to school today so i wrote the notes for you. want me to help you study for spanish test this thursday?”

only shows certain emotions around you that nobody can ever see

super clingy as well, likes taking naps with you especially after a long week of not being able to be a teenage boy and doing illegal shit

only really feels like a teenager when he’s in your arms

overall, a sweetheart but this relationship does take some work

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3

Sun and Stars

Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader

Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic

A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino. 

“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered. 

Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.

“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough. 

The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?

“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.

A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.

Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.

Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–

“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.” 

Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.” 

Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.

“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf. 

His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest. 

But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you. 

Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.

“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor. 

Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.

“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.

“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.” 

“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”

An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with. 

Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin. 

She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine. 

If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.

When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way. 

“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.” 

“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”

He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff. 

“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot. 

Oh, when he laughs.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.” 

“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”

“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.” 

Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching. 

“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.” 

“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.

“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.” 

“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.” 

Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.” 

Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.

“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.

“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.

“Incredibly.” 

“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.

Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow. 

His girlfriend was a badass. 

“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground. 

Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.

“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride. 

You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out. 

After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes. 

“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door. 

No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise. 

But there was something wrong. 

She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.

Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest. 

Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.

“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”

“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.

Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold. 

“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

“...You shouldn’t have to.” 

A moment of brain-shattering silence. 

Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–

“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”

“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”

Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.

What?

“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer. 

“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it. 

Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you. 

What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.

No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous. 

The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.

But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.

His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes. 

Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue. 

Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin. 

He speaks in whispers.

“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?” 

Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen. 

All you had was each other. 

He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.

“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.

“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”

“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”

“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.” 

“...You’re exhausting, Keller.” 

“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”

“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer. 

A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.

“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings. 

Sea-glass blue. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave. 

As if. 

Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips. 

They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.

The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.

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[strwbmei]

MFHMG JEALOUS SEX WITH MEI.

I can imagine mei being a sensitive girl when it comes to feelings, so imagine how she feels when you talk to other girls. so nice to them but oh.. little mei wants some attention too..

What if she was a sadist and likes punishing you? like gagging you and putting a butt plug on you, slapping your ass while she pounds you... all angry and flustered "m-mei, too fast n rough..ngh-" "oh sweetie, we both know thats not my name in bed~." and thats he last thing you here before she starts speeding up her thrusting.

(DO UR THING🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️💯💯💯)

Mei knows that she's being a bit unfair, but she can't help it :( did you really have to talk to those girls the whole evening, not even sparing a glance at your poor girlfriend? She'd been following you around like a lost puppy, lightly tugging on your arm every once in a while— so it's no surprise that when the two of you got home, Mei was pouncing on you immediately; pinning you to the wall with ease as she showered you with possessive and hungry kisses before gagging you. Poor girl is so jealous, and she just wants you to stay quiet and let her use you; convince herself that you're hers.

She'd be less vocal than usual, only complaining about the earlier events between moans and grunts as she speeds up her thrusting. Mei hates when she has to be rough with you, but it was your fault in the first place— you knew how sensitive she's always been about these things :( your ass would be an almost glowing red from the amount of times she's slapped it; and there's rarely a spot on your body that isn't littered with her marks. Can't you get it through your thick skull? You're hers. Hers only. Mei won't stop until you truly understand that.

[cluelessmoose]

How about All Downhill from Here?

All Downhill from Here-

Four centric~ He experiences fun(damentally miserable) times with snowy hills

---------------------------

“-ur! Four you have to move-”

Wild’s voice pierced louder than all the rest, a scream shrill enough to slice through the snowstorm and jab the words like knives into Four’s throbbing skull. “SHIELD! GET ON A SHIELD!” 

Four -GreenRedamuddyblurofthemall- gasped, tumbling helplessly, every weakening grab for the shield knocked askew as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Something struck his head, sending the world whiting out, and his body jolted, tugged about, a senseless cacophony of roaring snow and metallic buzzing and his own panting breaths, echoing oddly. His skin tingled in the freezing air, head lolling as the roar quietened and the ambient sounds became slowly clearer, a soft keen escaping his lips as everything tipped and the dizziness returned. 

Then, through the loud, jumbled confusion of the Colors, a voice came into focus, speaking quickly and quietly. “-okay, I got you, Four. We’re going to be alright.” That was… Twilight, he slowly parsed, groaning as they lurched and his head lolled where it was drooped bonelessly over… an arm, the hands clutching him to Twi’s chest tightening.

“Don’t move, Four, I’m not- holy shit that was close- as ahaha-” and that sounded a little unhinged Blue-Vio-urk noted blearily “-good at this as Wild is,” Twilight rambled, something very nervous and very strained in his voice, the sound of grinding continuing. Four’s ear flicked at the annoying sound, the motion lost in the cold shuddering of his frame, wind nipping relentlessly through his thin clothes. 

“Cn’t st-stop shivering,” Four managed quietly, all too happy not to move otherwise as everything spun and spun and spun-

‘-our? Four?” Twilight sounded distinctly panicked now, and the taller hero shook him slightly, drawing a weak moan as the jostling kept him from the quiet, dark stillness. “Sorry, sorry, but no, no Four open your eyes, tell me what you see,” Twilight coaxed, as if Four couldn’t, even in his current state, pick out the rampant worry in his voice. 

‘S dark,” he murmured wearily, head lolling back and forth as they… swerved?. “Colors… bleeding ‘tghtr.” 

“You’re bleeding?” Twi’s voice sharpened, commanding now. “Four, no, open your eyes!” 

He- oh, yes, hm. Four slitted his eyes open, giving a soft hum at the just… whiteness there. A slow blink did nothing but add further pale shades. “S white,” he slurred, unimpressed. Twilight spoke again, too quickly this time for Four to understand the words as anything more than a lilting rise and fall of tonality, and he continued to stare as their surroundings became clearer, exposing a strange, alien landscape. Great icy pillars held aloft a sheet of frozen snow far above, the pale sky and growing blizzard visible through holes in the roof, openings marked by the thick fall of snowflakes whirling wildly beneath them. There was visibility down here, even if everything was white on pale on ice glazed stone. 

They were moving fast, and Twi wasn’t running-

“What- wait, what?” Four twitched, head twisting, only for Twilight to clutch him tighter as they both wobbled on the shield he was surfing down with Four in his arms holy shit-

He immediately grasped Twi’s shirt, curling in tighter, adrenaline spiking as pillars flashed past that would very much kill or maim them if they crashed, and then the word avalanche filtered through the panic and color-ridden whirl of his thoughts and that was even worse-

It had a very different feel to it then when Wild had first shown them down a gentle grassy slope, Four thought hysterically. Between the hiss of the shield on the ice and his own wavering hearing it was impossible to tell if the rumbling roar was only echoing off the snowy bilayer or if it was right behind them or if it was only his body trying to pass out once more. He was too afraid to crane around for fear he’d unbalance Twilight, who thankfully seemed to be better at out-shield surfing an avalanche down an icy obstacle ridden slope than Four certainly would have been. 

He’s pretty sure he’d be hylian mush somewhere back under the avalanche, actually. 

But Four was very used to ignoring reminders of his own mortality, and it was all too easy to let the fear slip away into the gentle fog permeating his mind, the Colors still a water-whorled blur within him even after a few faints, thoughts slippery and sluggish as molasses. “Okay,” he whispered shakily, lifting his heavy-weighted head and tucking it into Twi’s chest, light-headed and sick. He could trust the Ranchhand to keep them both alive, no matter how it itched that he was so useless. 

“I’ve got you, Smithy. I think we’re good, but I’m gonna keep going just to be safe-”

Four listened to Twi’s rambling assurances, shivering viciously with no way to get anything warmer on. Then all at once they passed under open sky once more, blinded by the snowstorm as the icy cover was left behind, any trace of the avalanche’s thundering lost all at once to the screaming wind. Four couldn’t see anything but white before he shielded his face in Twi’s shirt but the shield was still zipping along, spinning them once more as the ground dipped, his head going light as the inertia sent his equilibrium wobbling. 

The shield rocked violently beneath them, Twilight tensing up and leaning hard to stay atop it but next moment there was a slight jolt and a yelped curse. 

A distinct sense of being airborne, Twi curling around him. 

They hit rock hard ice and skidded along it, rolling and being ripped apart from one another, and then- free fall once more, Four’s lungs too frozen for a proper scream, and-

-------------------------

It was cold. Four’s body was all but convulsing as shudders wracked its freezing form, pulling him back to consciousness. He let out a soft sound of pain, so cold it hurt, trying to draw up the memory of what had happened- a portal, then… a landslide? No, Vio pushed, Blue-muddled and blearily pissed, an avalanche, and Twi had managed to shield surf them down the mountain and then… 

And then crashed? Gone over a ledge? Something sudden, Four knew that much, but the whole unbelievable scene was almost dreamlike, all a pale, confused blur. 

There was a whirl of panic in his mind, a sluggish consensus that he should really, really change into something warmer now. He unfurled in the snow slowly, getting a general bruised feedback from his body but too bitterly cold for anything more specific. He dragged his bag open with his teeth, layering the winter clothes over his tunic and leggings, pulling on a hat and gritting his teeth as he tugged off the pegasus boots to replace them with another layer of woolen socks and proper winter boots- gloves topped off the whole set, precautionary gear they’d all taken to carrying considering how seasons swapped between worlds. 

He couldn’t remember whose idea that had been, but he owed them a hug after all this was over with. 

Feeling warmer already, Four huddled into his knees once more, still shivering and sick from the portal, head spinning and thoughts a mess as the Colors tried to settle back in from the blender that was cross-dimensional travel. Then all at once the background wrongness finally focused in on the reason his sluggish mind had been grasping after since he’d woken up still in his light clothes, alone. 

Where was Twilight?

He dragged his head up to scope around, trying to force his fogged brain to work properly. All Four could currently make out was some rocks nearby and what looked to be a tundra, going by the plants poking through the snow and how flat it was past view. Still, he patted and kicked around him, just in case, heart sticking worriedly in his throat as no Twilight showed up in the heavy, wet snow nearby. Four squinted around, trying to gauge where he’d come from and where Twilight could have landed, getting up and wading determinedly through the deep snow at the foot of the cliff he’d fallen off towards what he thought to be farther uphill where they’d been separated while falling. He was a hair wobbly, the path behind him marked with multiplied body prints in the snow where he’d toppled over, and… 

Oh, damn.

Four looked around, hugging himself for warmth, absolutely lost for where he was in relation to where he’d woken in the snow and with no idea when he’d managed to get onto the tundra. He thought, maybe, those were boulders through the pale wreath of whirling snow, and was staggering his way over in hopes of finding the foothills again when he heard it-a howl, barely discernible from the wind, lilting through the air. It must be close, with how clear it was despite the snowfall was muffling things, and Four tried to call back, heart leaping at the thought of Twilight, of help when he so needed it, of Wolfie and any additional warmth. His voice broke in the cold, though, and he whistled instead, shrill and tremulous. There was another call, longer, and Four answered back, waiting. A few minutes passed before Twilight called out again for a pinpointing whistle, then-

Nothing. Four whistled again, gasping desperately as he stood uselessly watching the snow whirl around him, leaning on the rock to remain upright. His head was spinning again from overexerting himself while still suffering from the damned portal, balance completely shot, grappling for Red’s optimism instead of Vio’s knowledge of hypothermia and only running himself in whirling circles as he tried and failed to struggle through the baseless confusion miring his thoughts. A plan, he needed a plan, but trying to look at the facts was useless when they were meaningless to him right now, and Four was left standing helplessly, knowing he was rather screwed and utterly unable to wrangle himself together enough to figure out what to do about it but stand there, lost enough to feel tears burning behind his eyes. 

He had to find Twilight, who must have been injured to not have come to him right away, who could be passed out right now by his silence. He had to… do something, anything but get more lost or just sit and wait when Twi could need help. There was nothing wrong with him but his own brain being stupid and slow and useless, and he couldn’t wait for it to clear on its own like he usually did after the accursed portals messed badly with him. 

It… wasn’t the first time Four had been helplessly furious at his unlucky incompatibility with their only means of moving between worlds. 

He hauled himself up, driving forwards and whistling again desperately, determined to push his body until it gave out rather than sit and wait. He could rest when he passed out.   

But then, not too long before it would have come to that, a familiar silhouette blurred into view against all the white, head low and searching, trotting through the snow. Four shouted, waving his arms as he fell forward, scrambling for Wolfie. “Twilight! Over here!” Ears perked his way, the snow clumped figure running for him, a bark just legible through the storm. Four laughed, falling to his knees and then forward onto his hands, all but sobbing with relief, feeling about ready to faint now that the panic that had been all that was keeping his portal-wracked body up and moving was draining all at once for weak-limbed relief. 

There was an unhappy growl, and Four tried and failed to drag his head up, just this close to collapsing. “I’ll be alright, I jusneedamomen’-”

A too tight grip on his shoulder, padded by his coat, hauling him forward and onto his knees in a harsh tug that snapped him back to dizzying awareness. “Hey,” he protested weakly, flailing his arms out to shove Twi away, vision refusing to focus past a blur. “‘M not doing so hot, gimme a min…”

He blinked heavily, not quite putting together why Wolfie’s eyes were gold or where the markings had gone on fur that was a washed out gray, not the mossy slate he’d expected- 

The biting grip on his shoulder suddenly clamped down, teeth piercing skin and bones sending warning signs as the pressure grew to crushing levels, Four shrieking and flailing blindly in startled agony, still not understanding why Twi would- 

Wolfie shook him viciously, and at some point between the first and third head rattling snap of his body Four lost his tenuous grip on consciousness, still grasping for an answer.

[yanverse]

conrad my beloved 🥹 he’s not gonna win against the sheer force that is harley chicken man in the polls but he’s still number one in my heart <3

i think he’s been too uwu lonely russian boy from a small village in his tag lately from ur og blog so i wanna know what he’s like when he snaps hehe

like how would he hunt down and punish a darling who’s been affectionately biding her time to escape when he’s out hunting? cause idk if he’d be as scary as ilya but i would welcome it 👀

want scary conrad? i can give you scary conrad.....<3

hunted -- conrad dmitriev

(cws: DDDNE, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, violence against reader, blood, injuries, guns/knives, cutting/scarring, implied somno/noncon, manipulation, death mentions)

word count: 2k

Not even the pitch of the settling dark could mask the eyes that follow you between the trees. 

These woods aren't for the faint of heart. Those who live here were born here, survived here, and will inevitably die here. Considering there's only been one–at least in recent memory–who has escaped that curse, it's clear to anyone with sight that this harrowing corner of the world is meant for only two things; locals and wildlife. 

And trees, of course. Enough to cluster in scattered array, leaving only tiny clearings in between in which to get your bearings, though you can never really stop moving in this cold. The snow isn't so much a hindrance as it is a hurdle; glaringly obstructive in the way caution tape would be around a bloody car crash. It should be circumvented with great caution by those who don't wish despair upon their own selves, yet here you are in the thick of it. Cold, wet, and completely, utterly lost. 

Conrad warned you of these dangers, but you ignored him. Why would you possibly take the advice of someone who betrayed you? His whole story was made up of lies–why he was conveniently in the area the night you came across each other, what exactly he had to do with your car that seemingly sprouted an issue from nowhere, and who he even was altogether. Course, you could've been a touch more scrutinizing…you can't exactly imagine, at least not easily, that a man who lives almost entirely alone in an isolated forest of the country could live comfortably with his sanity still intact. He isn't just an ice fisher that sells his produce to the near-zero visitors of this confusing wasteland. Conrad is a killer. A killer for hire, no less. 

And right now, unbeknownst to you, you're his next target….well, unknowingly until your footsteps halt in the knee-deep snow for a breather, and the softest click sounds right at the base of your skull. You don't need to turn your head to see. Nobody else would make it this far without leaving footprints in this awful snow. 

“Malyshka.” That word bleeds into you with every syllable, puffed hotly over the skin of your ear from behind. It stirs up memories, good ones for once, of that loving nickname uttered in laughter and scorn and a teasing lilt as Conrad takes you by the hand and waltzes you through his living room. The tinny scratchiness of his cheap, portable radio gave the cabin a hum that still resonates in your veins, but you can't go back to that world even if you wanted to. That place will forever be tainted with the memories of Conrad's twisted fascination with you, permanently marred by deceit and thinly-veiled manipulation. 

It doesn't seem like that matters at all to your former lover, however. Because when Conrad grips your arm in that deathly squeeze, you get the sense immediately that he's betting on taking you back. He's going to walk you through the snow right back where you came from, and he's going to be so angry he won't sleep for days. That's what you think.

The butt of his rifle cracking you in the skull isn't what you expected, however. The crunch of bone under the varnished chunk of wood sickens you to the core of your soul, a warmth exploding out from your hair and splattering the ground as you immediately collapse forward. Your dead weight sinks you deep into the snow, but even then, and even in your dazed state, you feel it's much shallower here than before. Maybe that's why Conrad waited to corner you here–maybe it will be easier to pile the snow on top of your body when he kills you in his rage. 

Time slows to a tick all of a sudden. Conrad's boots crunching in the snow around you ripples a series of shivers through you, your warm body growing colder by the minute as he circles you like a hungry predator. Shiiing, click, thummp. The sound of his gun being slung over his shoulder catches your focus, and then the distinct slice through the sheath as Conrad pulls out his knife. You know the one. That thing is big. And sharp. You cut your hand on it once accidentally and he just about lost his mind with worry. Doesn't seem like he's all too concerned about that now, though.

Although his voice carries between the whispers and howls of the wind, you couldn't understand him if you tried. You've lost the privilege of Conrad speaking your language, evidently, because while he is addressing you not a word of it is in English. It's just another way to control you…another way to show you his love, if he were to spin it that way. 

A beat of silence passes without note. He's stopped moving. You can feel him, his body heat, hovering over you from above. The knife is probably just dangling in his hand, wondering if he should drop it or bring your life to an end with force, grant you some kind of small mercy as he takes you apart before finally slitting your throat like a hunted animal. Conrad stands waiting, watching you lie motionless and dizzy in the snow, and even once you feel him sink to his knees on top of you there's no strength in you to move. Blood pools at the base of your neck from the gash he's probably left in your head. I'm going to die. Your own voice ringing from within triggers you into a push, your fingernails digging into hard, packed snow as you try to lift yourself up–but even though he doesn't hit you a second time, Conrad isn't gentle as he grips your neck and shoves you back down. 

“Still.” He quietly mumbles amid the harsh breeze whistling past your ears. “Stay, malyshka.” 

Clearly, he wanted an answer. Your silence is more than enough of one however, and with a swing and an arc of the blade your lover is rrrrrrripping your clothes apart, knife cutting cleanly up the back of the too-thin flannel that you stole in lieu of a proper coat. Through the layers underneath he slices with practiced ease, catching patches of skin with the tip but not allowing the beads of blood to distract him from his task. Your eyes dart sideways to see his gloved fingers carving out a lump of snow from near your head, a few trickles of blood from your wound staining the purity of those white, soft haloes. He raises it quick and your arms tense at the feeling of that sting hitting your bare back–but it isn't the blade first, it's that clump of snow dragging down your flesh…the knife comes straight after that, piercing your aching skin as insult to injury, and his deep, sudden strokes that split you apart have you writhing and kicking out on the ground in agony. 

Pure, violent hatred spills out of you in those moments, your screams echoing off the trees with just the same tremor as the howling, squealing winds blowing through the mountains. Conrad only cares for your pain when it impedes his progress, his knee coming down harshly on your lower back to keep you from squirming away as he makes his cuts. He must be trying to dig your organs out, he's killing you, he's surely tracing out your most valuable spots with such aggressive stabs of unconscionable, burning, violent torment. Will he wait for you to die? Will he make sure before he leaves? Will he drag your corpse back home with him, frozen and stiff, or will he leave you for the wolves and bears and god knows what else out in these woods? 

As your blood drains into the snow, those thoughts become less and less urgent. As your willpower fades into numbness, the cold pressing into your back grows from a sting into a shaking, fragile numbness that spreads outward. You must be dying now, you can only imagine that your body will give out at any moment if Conrad doesn't stop. It hasn't even occurred to you yet that he has stopped, not until you catch a peripheral glimpse of his black-cloaked hand cleaning the blade in the snow. It's your blood that trickles down the handle…and there's so much of it you're on the verge of losing all hope. There's only the tiniest, faintest glimmer left, and it's fading just as fast as your consciousness. 

“...Look how pretty you are now, malyshka.” 

Those words will haunt you into death, you're most certain. They're the last ones to linger in your ears as the whiteness grows dark, and your eyes flutter closed while the sound of a drip, drip, drip echoes your dreamless sleep…

Drip, drip, drip. 

You'd know the sound anywhere. It's easier to listen to without that wind howling in your ears, but it's going to be harder to locate. This time, when your eyes open within the warmth of a closed-in room, gratitude isn't the first thing you feel for surviving another night in this dense nightmare. 

It's pain. Hot, unbearable, searing pain, violating you in senses inconceivable as it crawls in waves down your back; violent, stiffening, and like a hot iron being pressed up and down and up and down on constant repeat. The warm air of the cabin isn't helping at all as it hits your marked flesh, it's only drawing further attention towards the dripping of something warm down your legs, but at the very least you can tell by the pillow you've drooled on that you're not laying on the open wounds. No, you've been left exposed, with the ache in your hips something you hadn't noticed before, and the weight that's shifted the bed alerts you that someone is tending them for you…and he's singing. Gently. Some lullaby in his native tongue, no doubt, as his hands move quietly and carefully up and down the flesh he ruined. 

“Pretty thing.” You can just barely catch a glimpse of him looming from behind, the din of the cabin shadowing the expression on his pale face. Conrad's muttering puts you off at once, but there's nothing you can do about it now. He meant to kill you, but he changed his mind. He took you back to the cabin to rest, and…make up for lost time, if the stickiness of your thighs is any indication. Maybe that mind will be changed again…and you can only hope it does, because whatever he carved into your back, it can't be out of love. No matter how much he's going to try to convince you it is. “You are hurt, love. You want whiskey?” 

What hurts more is that you can feel the smirk in his tone. He's having a laugh at you. You tried to run but I caught you. I'll always catch you. You can never hide from me. That's what he's probably thinking. 

“No…” Somehow, from some deep well of power within you, your voice forms in a trembling resistance to his strength. Conrad's hands covered in balm and fibres of gauze he's tying round you pause, if just for a moment, and in the relative silence with those drip, drip, drips in the background you find the rest of your voice. 

“...I want you dead.”

How laughable. Conrad doesn't laugh, he merely tuts at you–a disapproving parent scolding a young scoundrel. If you weren't so appallingly special to him, he might punish that rejection of his help with a slap or an elbow right into those throbbing wounds that spell out his name. Instead, he dips his head low, and lets his deep, rough whisper creep into your ear and make a home in the deepest pits of fear that reside in your pretty little head.

“Then you just try to kill me, malyshka.” 

[elsweetheart]

ur post about cracking up w lev made me think of like maybe you guys are catching your breath from being attacked out of nowhere and you both start cracking up from when abby had tripped and face planted into a puddle of mud and at the time it was scary but now that you’re safe you two can’t stop laughing at how she fell and abby’s so 😐 like she’s muttering under her breath like “real funny guys. laugh it up.” until she eventually can’t help but laugh too

your first instinct, of course — was to protect lev.

you weren’t exactly a skilled shooter, and as much as you tried to put on a brave face— you still succumbed to a whimper of fear as the clicker ran at you head on. abby had it under control, taking out three of the infected that ran at her due to her being a couple of steps ahead. she spares you a worried glance as your hands shake before exploding the clickers brain. lev is alert, head constantly swivelling to make sure he doesn’t get caught by surprise. “abby watch out!” he yells, and off guard— abby spins back around quickly coming face to face with chomping jaws. she punches it, her strength wounding its weak skull — before punching again and again to ensure it dies. on her last swing, she slipped in the mud— dropping down in a heap next to the dead clicker.

you and lev stare at abby on the floor, holding your breath for a moment until you knew she was okay— just surprised. she groaned, beginning to move in the thick mud.

“man down.” lev comment casually in his sweet, soft voice — and for some reason, perhaps with all the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the close encounter, it really tickled you.

it started off as a little giggle, which he joined you on at his own joke, before you were both clutching your bellies. the laughter only got harder when abby stood back up to her full height, face straight and her entire front caked in mud. you pointed with the hand that wasn’t clutching your stomach, and lev near fell to the floor.

“she stepped on a banana.” you struggled out, and lev fell into you — the two of you holding eachother up. abby was a little pissed and embarrassed at first, waiting for the laughter to die down.

“yeah, yeah. laugh it up.” she shakes her head with an eye roll— which goes barely noticed by the two of you laughing. it had been a week or so on the road, and a while since any of you had had a good, genuine laugh. abby’s heart softened a little bit, seeing the two of you having a joyous moment together — the two people she cares about the most. a smile crept up onto her face at the infectious chortles before she chuckled herself. the two of you lit up even more, victorious. you suppose you never know you’re in the best memories until you’re looking back on them.

[frigid666]

I feel a lot more sane on here because of you, it's great to not be the only person on here who (as a bi woman) doesn't see the appeal of the "febfem" label. I have no interest in appearing as "one of the good ones" to others.

reallll af. honestly bi women go through so much, we have so many ops all across the political spectrum. everyone wants us to conform to what their ideal is. and its like we are set up to fail bc at the end of the day, we're human with a wide variety of life experiences, priorities, and desires. we will never collectively be whatever these varying groups want us to be.

radblr can die mad but i will never politicize romance and friendships (saw a poll recently that i deeply disagree w about how many users wouldn't even consider being friends with trans ppl ??), and i will never recommend to other bi women to do that. preferences are very real and valid and i will always defend w my life bi women who only want to be with other women bc that's what they desire, but it's silly to prescribe that as a moral and feminist obligation to ALL of us. personally ive always been a 50/50 bisexual woman, so I can't relate to that experience.. but ppl need to really get it in their thick skulls to see us as a diverse set of REAL people, not political or fetishized pawns. and i will always be sympathetic to bisexual men, and ik that doesn't make me popular in this crowd but whatever i honestly gdaf anymore.

anyway thank u for this ask !! i was very naive when i first became immersed in this space, and ive said some pathetic stuff i regret in the past, so i am always gracious to other bisexual women who are the same path bc there's definitely a learning curve to having some self respect as a bi woman. it's really hard to feel any kind of pride when ur entire life has been spent being denigrated by various groups of people.

[inkykeiji]

Not Sukuna CHECKING you in public too! 😭😭 lol I bet he tells people who happened too, like when you get home (you're still sniffling and your butt hurts SO much), he's like to the doorman, "aw she's just pouting because I gave her a spanking earlier, didn't I, baby?" all smug.

oh my god i LOVE THIS hahaha you’re sooo right, he definitely tells people what happened with an infuriating, almost embarrassing sense of pride. in fact, if he still believes you require more punishment and humiliation to truly learn your lesson, to really drive it home and engrave it on the walls of that pretty skull of yours, he’ll actually take you on an entire outing following your public spanking—first to a clothing store where he forces you to try on several pairs of tight jeans (sans panties, of course), just to watch your face screw up in pain as the harsh denim drags over your raw bum, sanding down the freshly formed clots and reopening the wounds <3

then he’ll take you to the grocery store and force you to walk through each and every aisle, slowly (he’s taking his sweet time, examining the products in excruciating detail, just so you have to stand around even longer), while wearing one of those pairs of jeans, so by the time you reach the checkout counter your eyes are glazed so prettily with agony, dewdrops suspended in salt-clumped lashes, nose twitching with the hiccuped little sobs you desperately keep trying to swallow down and little blots of blood seeping through thick denim in irregular little patches (bonus points if he’s put you in white jeans, so everyone can clearly see those lil dabs of crimson). he’ll lean an elbow or a forearm on the counter as he watches the long line of grocery items trudge along on the belt and relay your punishment to the poor cashier in torturous detail, eyes glinting with sick sadism and grin stretched abnormally wide with malice as they nervously shift beneath his alternating gaze, features twisted up somewhere between uncomfortable and disgusted.

if you were on your very best behaviour throughout the duration of your punishment, Daddy will allow you to pick out a tub of ice cream from the freezer section when you finally, finally reach it at the very back of the store, and he’ll permit you to eat it straight from the container as he lays you across his lap to clean n bandage up ur cute bum, rough hands turned gentle and tender as he murmurs out syrupy little coos and condescensions <3

[barrenclan]

WOOO NEW ISSUE!! i began reading this earlier, but couldn’t finish due to me rereading what i had just read and focusing on the pictures!!! so yeah, finally finished it, and GRRR GOOD ISSUE

first off, throws thrasher in the cootstorm pit too, they can share. no transphobic kitties allowed (obviously not literally, but i love how like.. natural it is? it’s just cormorantpaw’s life and what he’s been raised to think). egrettail should deck him

also egrettail!!!!!! favorite kitty therapist!!!! i assume maybe asphodelpaw asked about her being aroace, maybe brought on after daffodil was like “oh!! ur just like me and asphodelpw!!!” to pinepaw, and that made her think “wait am i into men even?” but. yeah. she just wants to help and she’s such a sweetie

SEVEN. SILVERS. SHE’S MADE IT!!! SHE’S IN AN ISSUE FR!! ULTIMATE ALLY INVENTED HRT TO SUPPORT EGRETTAIL. THE MOST BASED CAT EVER. I LOVE HER SHE’S JUST A LITTLE KITTY. I HOPE SHE’S OKAY. IM GONNA SAY IT METHINKS EGRET, HUSH PUPPY, AND SEVEN SILVERS R FOUND FAMILY JUST A COUPLE OF CHOSEN SIBS. UNLESS THIS IS A NO. SORRY IM EXCITED ABOUT SEVEN SILVERS

shoutout to cormorantpaw for getting his 2nd issue. kinda a crime that i only bring him up now but its ok. i love the goofy early cartoons titlecard image with the literal lovebug and him just thinking it over before going “oh fk im bi” and i love how egrettail was like “it seems like it to me, but it’s up to u” bc she can’t really like. force him to think he has a crush, something about that was really gentle- back to cormorantpaw!!! now he’s a blushy mess and i love him for it. also WHAT DO U HAVE TO DO BOY. WHAT IS YOUR ANGST

yes i know daffodilpaw was hardly here but she still gets her own section bc that’s my favorite community hc collection. cormorantpaw doesn’t seem to want to be involved romantically with her, saying how she’s nice but also noting how she doesn’t tend to listen to him (which doesn’t make daffy a bad person!! just something they gotta communicate as buddies) but also mentioning how she puts her paw on his, and also in the sleeping shot cormorantpaw is staring past daffodilpaw, who sleeps next to him, and at pinepaw. i’m just. babey noooo. break out of ur toxic mindset its okkk. unless u actually do like cormorantpaw then i’m. sorry. how did i make the daffodilpaw section the longest oops

rate this issue 5 mysterious end birds out of 5!!! thank u for another great issue :3

So sorry not answering this ask for awhile! All that trouble with my account hit at a bad time. I'm glad you liked the issue, though. :)

Egrettail had the patience of a saint for not beating the absolute shit out of Thrasher when they were in Defiance, and I'm certain she gave him what for on more than one occasion after Hush Puppy died.

Yes, she and Asphodelpaw may have had a conversation about similar realizations she was going through just like Cormorantpaw, heheh. We'll get there someday.

I was so excited to finally include Seven Silvers in an issue!! When I first created her character I wasn't planning on it, but she's just too fun not to use. Hell, I'm allowed to invent magic cat hormone therapy if I want to, who's gonna stop me. Seven, Hush Puppy, and Egret are any manner of close friends you like, and found family/siblings are as good a way as any.

The POVs from other characters are not going to be very common, since Pinepaw is the protagonist in the end, but it's always nice to dip back into Cormorantpaw's thick little skull. I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking of the rubberhose style joke with "lovebug", honestly. Don't worry about his angst, I'm sure it's nothing.

Good catch on everything with Daffodilpaw in this issue! It's something I did intentionally include, and did want to draw a comparison between Corm describing her as not really listening to him with Pinepaw always listening to what he says (which as you said, doesn't mean Daff is a bad person, just that she's got her own things to work out).

[my-own-walker]

So glad to hear you're taking requests for this week! Luv ur stories 🙂

Can I pls request an angst re-imagining what you've happened in that movie night scene in asylum if Kit, Lana and Grace (you can change Grace for reader if you want, lol) were actually caught there by Jude instead of being mistaken when they were all sitting back soaking wet after having tried to escape?

Tysm

She's Not There

note: thank ya for the compliment! also, this pic makes me so sad :((( love this request tho! it's like a lil creative writing activity

warnings: AHS asylum, abuse, bl00d, really just sad themes, aka angst, does not end well for the reader (sorry)

+

Kit's POV

I loved her as she was. I never wanted to control her fire. All I needed was to be near it. To bask in the warmth of her spirit.

She came to me with the idea of escape. She relied on my resilience to get by. Who was I to dull that sparkle in her eye?

A big storm was on the way. A movie night was planned. Our plan seemed so solid, that we could taste the freedom. Nothing could get in the way of her and me trying to get out of there. To have a life together.

When the moment came, I felt sick. We were unsupervised. We could slip out unnoticed. So we did. Her, Shelley, and I. I paused outside the door to the common room, steeling my nerves. If I'm honest, I would have bailed right there, had it not been for her.

She looked back at me, hope in her eyes. She looked like a religious icon. Like someone you'd sacrifice yourself for. I took her hand and I followed her. I would have done anything for her.

She reluctantly let Lana join us after she begged. I may not have done what she did, but she was brave. And she was kind. And she was patient. Shelley sacrificed herself to allow us to pass without an orderly seeing us.

She kept on because she was fearless.

We exited into the storm, Lana with us instead of Shelley. It was terrifying. We quickened our pace through the blinding storm. Sheets of rain fell upon us, blurring our vision detrimentally. The hissing storm saturated the ground. Sticky, wet mud dragged us down and made moving nearly impossible.

We got turned around. We barely knew which way to go. The curtain of rain and wind made the trees around us blur like a watercolor painting. I couldn't breathe. The water encompassed my being, infiltrating my nose and mouth each time I tried to feed my lungs.

Then, my breath caught for a different reason. With a loud crack and a flash of pain, I was leveled, lying in the disgusting mud. A figure stood over me, holding what looked like a bat. They brandished the weapon and swung down upon me with a swoosh. All at once, everything was black.

+

I awoke coughing. Wet, thick coughs that tasted bad on my tongue. My vision was blurred. A sharp pain crackled through my skull. I feared my brain might split in two. I used two hands to hold my head, trying to squeeze the pain away, all while using the heels of my palms to wipe the clouds from my eyes.

With a few more blinks, I could see again. I lowered my hands and looked down at them. The sight left me shell-shocked. Both were covered in wet, fresh blood. It was grotesque. My chest constricted so tightly, it was as if the walls were trying to keep my heart from dropping.

Then a memory of her flashed across my vision. My head shot up and I scanned the room feverishly for a sign of her. I was in solitary, though, so no one was there. Not even a guard.

I stood from my place on the floor next to the back wall, but without the concrete propping my back up I fell back over onto my hands and knees. The splitting pain in my head rendered me useless on my feet. I crawled to the door and collapsed in a heap next to it.

In the seconds following, I heard the door unlatch, and then open. I didn't even have the strength to look up.

"Ah, you're awake," Sister Jude purred. "It's time you came with me."

Two orderlies grappled me roughly to my feet, securing my hands together with leather straps behind my back. The two of them, led by Sister Jude, dragged my limp body through the asylum, all the way to her office. My hanging feet hit each stair heavily as they dragged me upward.

The sight before me broke my heart. She sat slumped in a chair in front of Sister Jude's desk, bleeding from the back of her head. I perked up a bit upon seeing her, almost believing I could be let go and run to her.

They placed me in the seat next to her. Despite the awful pain, I craned my neck to see her face. She was nearly unrecognizable, brutalized heinously. She wasn't conscious. I full-body winced.

Next in came Lana, in better shape than the two of us, yet still bruised and bloodied.

Sister Jude snapped her finger at the orderly behind us and pointed at Y/N. "You! Wake her up," she barked. The man, dressed in all white, the front of his shirt stained with blood, shuffled over to her.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. Her head swung from side to side, limply, then, bobbed up slowly. She let out a sickening gurgle that made my stomach turn. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her.

"So," Sister Jude began. "These are the three who took advantage of my kindness, hm?" She paced back and forth behind her desk. "You three believed it appropriate to try to leave. You sicken me."

"You've punished us enough," Lana croaked.

"Ah, yes?" Jude smiled. "I don't think so." She tutted her tongue. "I don't believe so at all."

Her head dipped back down beside me heavily, her chin making contact with her chest.

"Keep her awake," Jude barked. The orderly returned to Y/N's side and shook her again. This time, though, she didn't stir. A nauseating feeling crept up inside of me.

"Y/N?" I rasped, leaning to my left to nudge her with my shoulder. She still didn't stir. Water collected in my bottom eyelid as a lump formed in my throat.

"Get her out of here," Sister Jude ordered, gesturing toward the door. The man in all white picked her up, bridal style. Her head swayed loosely as he adjusted her in his arms.

My lip trembled. I sucked in a short breath before I let out a small cry. Tears collected in my eyelashes, making it hard for me to see. I couldn't wipe them away, I could only let them fall.

"No," I choked out, barely audible as the orderly took her away from me. I could only believe the worst.

How terrible it is to love something death can touch.

Part of me wanted to believe the worst was yet to come, but if she truly was gone, the worst had already come and gone. I swallowed my despair and steeled myself for whatever punishment I was to be dealt.

Because nothing could be worse than losing her.

+

SORRY IT WAS SAD THATS WHO I AM!!!

[savage-rhi]

hello, i just love ur works and maybe u may written ashley graham x leon kennedy?? like ashley gets really hurt and leon goes protective mode pls? thanks for reading and have a great day ❤️‍🩹🫶🏻

Thank you, I appreciate the compliment! 💙 Here ya go!

Despite the screams and unholy sounds echoing throughout the woods, Leon could only register the noise of his own heartbeat while he held Ashley in his arms as he ran. A dull ringing began to shake his skull, drowning out the rest of the monsters that were in pursuit. He heaved while sweat pooled down his body, his hold on Ashley growing tighter while traversing through thick vegetation and jumping over debris. He couldn't afford to screw up. Not like he had done moments before.

It all came flooding back to Leon after he had taken to shelter with Ashley in tow. How he had been so careless making noise, something the agent himself had reminded Ashley to be mindful of in passing. Leon knew he should've ceased the conversation, but had found himself immersed to the point where he didn't hear a villager get into position and take aim. An arrow that was meant to pierce his heart had shot through Ashley's abdomen, and from there, he saw red.

While Leon scrambled to find medicine and other tools within the dwelling he had taken Ashley too, he tried to remember what happened after the impact. The shock at seeing her wounded was enough to send him into a terrible rage. One that sent him into a frenzy of his own making, shooting and killing plaga left and right. Images of those he had lost from Raccoon City flooded into Leon's head. He didn't see the plaga infected villagers anymore. No. Every single one was a zombie. A melting mass of tissue and agonizing groans, and he had one mission: to put them out of their misery, and get out of the city.

Leon stopped midway through scavenging and made a fist. His eyes shut while he hit the wall of the abandoned house.

"Ground yourself damn it," He muttered bitterly to himself. "We can't lose her. Not to--not to this..."

Somehow Leon's own words got through to him. He took several deep breaths, then began clearing the abandoned house.

Hours passed and Ashley began to return to consciousness. She winced and looked down, seeing the entirety of her lower stomach had been patched up with bandages wrapped around her waist. Pain radiated in her hips and spine. She wanted to cry, but resisted. Now wasn't the time. Not when she noticed Leon was holding her in his arms and passed out. His breaths were ragged. Almost as if he was running away from monsters even while he slept.

"Leon..."

Ashley couldn't remember all the details that led to this moment, but she smiled knowing he kept her safe. Whatever hells he was enduring in his dreams, she prayed he'd come out alright.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

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[wonusite]

oh my goddddd what if daddy gyu cant sleep one night so he decides to get some work done in the living room but when he walks past your room all he can hear is soft moans, he smirks to himself thinking that youre naked in bed with your fingers between your legs pumping in and out to the thought of him but in reality he opens the door to see youre fast asleep. he slides into bed with you and rubs you through your underwear to realize youre already soaked. he slides your underwear to the side and inserts his already hard cock into your pussy (with consent given before hand ofc) and you wake up begging him to not stop -🦋

daddy!gyu rot is officially back and I AM HERE FOR IT 😫😫😫

so you’ve told gyu that you’d love to wake up to him just pleasuring you bc it’s smth you’ve dreamt and fantasized abt countless times. he remembers the conversation when he hears ur cute little whimpers as he walks past your room. he smirks and thanks the heavens that your mom said she was spending the night in the office.

the sight of your sleeping form unconsciously grinding against your blanket gets him hard instantly. he quietly enters ur room, takes off his clothes and gets into ur bed. gyu slides his large hand down to find your panties completely soaked through. a deep groan climbs up his throat. he’s quick to lift one of your legs and pull your panties to the side. his aching cock slides against ur cunt, coating it in your juices. mingyu feels like he can come from the sounds you let out at his teasing. even in ur sleep ur so responsive to him.

finally he can’t take it anymore and slowly eases his dick into ur awaiting cunt. the feeling of ur tight little pussy gripping him makes his mouth drop open, a wanton moan spilling past his lips. slowly, he starts to thrust into you, wanting to savor the way your expression changes in your sleep. ur mewls and whimpers are starting to turn into moans as gyu starts to move his hips faster.

“daddy...” you breathe out, hips gently rutting forward.

gyu starts to kiss on your neck, loving how you think of him even in your dreams. his thrusts pick up, loving how ur cunt just keeps getting tighter and tighter around his leaking cock.

you slowly come out of a wet dream to find a burning pleasure coming from your cunt. ur vision is bleary, but you recognize the sculpted body pressed against u immediately, and impossibly, you recognize the fat cock pounding into your pussy even faster. when you realize that mingyu has finally made one of ur biggest fantasies come true, you gush all over him.

“daddy please don’t stop!” you moan as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm.

you turn your head and cup the back of gyu’s neck to pull him into a heated kiss. your eyes are rolling to the back of ur skull as his thick cock rams into ur sweet spot. it’s like your hips have a mind of their own as they start to grind down onto the throbbing dick.

“you’ll be the death of me, princess.” gyu moans. “wanting my cock even in your dreams.”

you can only moan and whine, hoping he’ll keep fucking into you until he’s painting your walls with his cum.