#yandere roach

[yandere-sins]

Just read your yandere!Ghost HCs and I am absolutely in love!! What are your thoughts on a shared darling between an all yandere!task force 141? Do you think it will make Ghost less possessive cause he doesn't have to worry about protecting their darling all the time or even more so cause he has to share? 🤔 Also curious about the other members interacting both with their darling and each other.

You're an amazing writer and I love all of your works so much!! Have a lovely day!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your request! ♥ I only did the core members I know of and about, hope that's alright!

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Price

♡ John has undisputed dips on you in this dynamic. He doesn't take the active role of caretaker for you, but he gets to hold you first after a mission, be the first to kiss you, and ask if you've eaten and if you were good while he was gone. He's the one giving orders concerning you after consulting with the others, and he's the one to cozy up to if you really want to better your living situation, even though he doesn't easily fall for tricks. You'll have to behave in front of him because the punishments he orders are all the harsher. Putting you into your place never feels more bittersweet than when he gives you both carrot and stick to remind you of your position by his side. That you are nothing without him. That you need him. But as long as you indulge him a little whenever he asks for it, his presence in the group isn't much trouble to you.

♡ Price mostly hands over taking care of you to the boys, laughing when he jokes about "being too old" to clean up after you. But he has that authority no one can argue against. If he wants you in his bed for the night, the others won't complain as they send you to his room, and if he dislikes your attitude, he'll treat you like a rookie soldier in need of some discipline—just without professionalism holding him back. But it's so easy to get along with him if only you let down your pride a bit. When you catch him watching you across the table, get up from whoever's lap you are on and climb on Price's. Allow him to knead your thighs and ass while you cuddle against his chest, and you'll have this grown man melt with affection for you. And when he asks whose bed you want to share that night, never hesitate to ask for his. If he doesn't want to, he'll send you away anyway, but showing him how devoted you are will earn you lots of browny points that might help you out of more complicated situations with the others. Price never forgets what you do—neither good nor bad.

Soap

♡ Soap is, undoubtedly, the social butterfly of the group, and you are his unwilling victim. He so loves to hang out with you, every bit of attention going straight to his ego. Then again, he's also your best bet when it comes to food, bathing, and other basic needs that you want met from your captors. He's the easiest to ask for anything because he wants your attention desperately and will try to fulfill your wishes like a dog trying to impress his owner. He's also your main chaperon around base, gladly escorting you to the kitchen, the bathroom, or wherever the rest of the group is. If no one else claims you for the day or night, his room is basically yours, and you are often collected from it, as John will claim all your time and your sanity if left unchecked.

♡ Regardless, behind all the smiles and jokes, he's definitely the most obsessed. You'll find him wide awake, watching you sleep at night or licking your cutlery after you eat. There have been no fewer than three times that he didn't accompany you into the shower, taking advantage of you whenever he can. It's hard to look into his eyes sometimes, wide open and swirling with madness while he watches you, always right there to catch you when you fall. Soap will gladly lick the blood off your wounds if he's not pulled away by the collar of his shirt. King of not caring what the others think, he's not even realizing how weird he's being, but you know. You know what he does with your underwear at night. You know the crazed rambles he whispers into your ear when he thinks you're asleep. You wholeheartedly believe he's tempering with your food sometimes, and you know there's hell to pay if you make him snap. John will take a lot of screaming and fighting back. However, you still have bruises from the last time his composure cracked, and no amount of him kissing them better helps to forget the way he can and will crack your skull on a wall if you defy him one too many times.

Ghost

♡ The reality is that Simon profits greatly from the arrangement but isn't too keen on it. He'll tolerate it; watch quietly as everyone else salivates over you. But nothing can convince him that any of the guys are better for you than he is. Even if he gives in to Price's authority, Soap's efforts, and Roach's right to you, doesn't mean he thinks they should have you. He's known for stealing you out of beds and sometimes kidnapping you to someplace the others won't find right away to get some undisturbed alone time. However, being with him is terrifying. You won't be able to relax, your heart pounding against your ribcage when you're with him. After all, it's Ghost, and he's a big, unpredictable meanie, at least in your opinion.

♡ Doesn't help that he's usually the one to diffuse any problems the others have with you before taking you with him and giving you the punishment you'll feel for the next few days. The others trust him to do the right thing, to make you obedient and sweet again. And he does, most of the time. There's only so much pain and torture you can endure. But he's also the one to mend your wounds and patch you up, gently asserting authority over you when you get fussy while he helps you stay alive after one of the others caused havoc on your body. You told him so many times you wanted to die, and he was the one to soothe you, hold you until you fell asleep. Sometimes, you think about thanking him. But then you remember his other side, the one that enjoys your pain, enjoys your dependency on him. The Ghost that loves cornering you against walls and kissing you breathlessly while you struggle, the one that broke and put your ankles into casts after you tried to run away. The shadow that is always there to remind you to play nice but who never rewards you in return. He must love you, somewhere, deep inside his shrewd brain. But you hate him with every fiber of your being. He's your worst nightmare, enemy, the bastard of the group. And your savior, protector, and most devoted lover at the same time.

Roach

♡ Gary is the yandere that you want to get along with. Who you actively try to pull on your side against the others, thinking he'd give you some leniency and compassion. After all, he ensures you get what you need when everyone else is too busy fawning over you. He brings in the goods to play with you, and makes you little gifts that you know are from him but he never claims your thanks. Roach is the last escape when you're in for another punishment, and you gladly disregard the fact that he's turning a blind eye to what his mates are doing if it means escaping whatever Soap or Ghost are planning to do with you. He's the eery presence at your back, his eyes always drilling into you, but his hands never forcing you towards him. He feels safe. Safer than anyone else, at least. But still waters are deep, and you don't know how you and his delayed gratification affect him.

♡ You are in for a rude awakening when you run to him, beg him to help you, and plead with him to make the others stop. Suddenly, his hands are all over you, and you are pulled into his lap, tightly secured in his arms, face burying into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. It feels like you're imprisoned in his grasp, your body crushed between his and his arms. He's patient, always laying in wait for you to come to him, so when you do, you are all his. No one dares to disturb him when he traps you against him. The others might sigh and groan but will retreat and give him the time he's owed, considering he never asks for it. And Roach plans to use his time with you wisely, give you all the attention and care he's been holding back or doing in the shadow. You'll belong to him all night long without a second to breathe while he devours you, devotes all his love to you. You'll only be given back once he's done smothering you in suffocating adoration, leaving his marks all over you, and making you thoroughly regret the trust you put into him to help you and protect you. He's just as bad, if not worse than the others, and he'll gladly lure you into the fake sense of safety again with his presence and subtle touches that will keep them away as no one knows when Roach is ready to claim you again. Now that he had a taste, it's hard not to want more...

[jinuaei]

Yandere!Siren Hybrid!Roach x Reader

OFC I can't make a random ass idea without making it a Yandere x reader LMAO Edit: edited to make it gender neutral :D

Inspired by Bluegiragi's Monster au

Warning: As always 18+ MDNI, Its yandere sweetheart, dub-con, somnophilia, hypnotization, being brainwashed ish? NSFW under the cut

Word count: 870

As the new rookie of 141, you've become somewhat of a precious little member of the team. Considering that you're the only human amidst the big burly hybrid men, it's no wonder they treat you like you're fragile, because lets be honest you'd probably die within seconds if you go against one of them. With that, Captain Price chose a less intimidating member to be your handler, which you're actually glad about since the others are too much for you, well, other than Gaz. Soap is too energetic and rowdy and is always trying to rub up on you. Ghost scares you as well as Konig, they keep glaring at you as if you murdered their dogs. Horangi's eyes-- well, sunglasses keeps following you, but his tail, standing up and all, whips about aggressively so you'd rather not become the tigers next meal. Although Gaz is nice, and never did anything to make you nervous.

Your handler is not as intimidating as you thought, considering his other teammates are. Gary Sanderson is his name, codename Roach as introduced by your Captain. You were curious why he didn't introduce himself instead of Price but you were informed that he cannot speak, which you were understanding of at first but then became awkward as soon as Price leaves because this man is just standing there, staring at you while you try to catch his attention, which eventually worked after a few minutes of waving in front of his face. But oh, if you could only see his expression the moment he saw you, would you have ever thought that your first friend would be such a pervert?

Even with the lack of communication you hit it off pretty quickly. At first he had to use pen and paper to talk to you, but when you expressed how you wanted to learn sign language he was pretty excited, as evident by his shaking and tight grip on your hand. So within a month, you learned enough to have a basic conversation with him. He's always so kind when you do it correctly, patting your head, nodding in pride, or caressing your cheek if he's bold enough. You thought nothing of it other than friendly touches.

But then you started to become more and more tired as the days pass, every morning you would have a pounding headache and sometimes your body also hurts but you thought it was the lack of sleep or the rigorous training the day before. However, red marks start to appear on your body, at first on your arm, but it quickly spread to your chest and more specifically, your neck. You told your concerns to Roach but he would only sign to you that it must be bed bugs, or mosquitoes. So as the kind friend he is, he offered his room and bed for you to sleep in while maintenance cleans out your room.

That night, you lay in his bed, yawning a goodnight as you start to pass out. Humming is heard before your body becomes relaxed and pliant, you're confused, trying to pin point where the noise is coming from but your thoughts are muddled, all except one, submit to me. Submit to who...?

You try to open your eyes but your vision is blurred. The bed squeaks and you feel weight bend the mattress close to your right thigh, and another on opposite side. The humming becomes louder when this happened, as if the noise is now on top of you.

"Relax..." The voice says, scratchy but soft, and against your wishes your body turns to mush, compliant to the man above you.

You can feel the vibrations when he kisses you, you can feel it when he nips at your neck, and you can feel it when his tongue licks at your wet opening. Every time he stops humming your mind becomes clearer, but then you get pulled under again as he whispers commands in your ear. Remove your clothes, open your legs, submit to me. Submit to him, submit to Roach.

Soon the humming turns into moans and whimpers, your body jerking in pleasure when you feel something hot and thick enter you. Roach moaning your name makes you quiver so deliciously, his voice and body making your mind blank. Not even noticing that your drooling now, eyes rolled back, whimpers and 'please please please' coming out of your mouth like a prayer. Finally the crescendo abruptly stops into a wet climax, and the siren falls next to you, still muttering your name.

Without him speaking, your mind clears enough to realize what happened and see the mess that you both are. Bites and marks litter around your neck and torso as a sheen is covering it, as if he was drooling as he tasted you. Warmth is oozing out of your abused hole and you gasp in horror when you registered that it was cum that was coming out of you. That gasp jerked him awake and he's pinning you down with his body, his mouth close to your ear as he hushes and consoles you.

"It's okay... you wanted it didn't you? Yes you did... now go to sleep darling."

[msilwrites]

More Trouble (Johnny 'Soap' Fic) - Two

Whatever size/colour/ethnicity you are, you are hot in Johnny's Eyes! Reader, Soap is smitten with you! Reader, Agent! Reader, Reboot! Johnny, Reboot! Soap, but he is Captain! Soap (Now!!), Captain! Johnny, Captain! Soap, Fuckboi! Soap, Manwhore! Soap, Judgemental! Johnny, Judgemental! Soap, Shameless! Soap, Cocky! Soap, Bastard! Soap

Soap x Reader , Soap x Y/N , Click here for Part 1 | This is Part 2 | Part 3 ( In Progress)

NSFW

Genre: Drama/Comedy/ with some Smut MDNI Summary:

After you disappeared on Johnny following that passionate night, you quickly realized you had forgotten your bracelet at his place. A few hours later, you called him to retrieve it, but Johnny had other plans. He playfully suggested that he would hold onto the bracelet until you met him again, turning the situation into a flirtatious game.

Despite your initial resistance, you found yourself falling back into his arms. What started as a simple arrangement to get your bracelet back evolved into a weekend ritual where you and Johnny would meet, the passion between you undeniable. However, as the weeks turned into months, the relationship became more complicated. Pregnancy scares and arguments began to surface, and you realized that you wanted more than just a physical connection.

You found yourself falling in love with Johnny, but you knew he wouldn't take you seriously. The emotional turmoil and the realization that you deserved more led you to decide to move on. Unfortunately, Johnny refused to let you go, his obsession growing more intense with each passing day. Good luck escaping him, Birdie—because he won’t let you slip away so easily! In fact, he won't let you escape at all.

A/N:

This is the continuation of Trouble, featuring our sunshine Captain Johnny Soap MacTavish—who just so happens to be a little obsessed with you! Buckle up for the whirlwind, the chaos, and the sizzling tension. Enjoy! 💙

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Johnny's lounging at home, the bracelet dangling from his fingers, when his phone rings. The caller ID shows an unknown number, piquing his curiosity. He answers, his voice casual but guarded.

"Hello?"

It's you—your voice cool and businesslike, but he can sense the underlying tension.

"Hey, it’s me. I need my bracelet back."

Johnny's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He smirks, leaning back in his chair, the realization dawning on him that it's you on the other end of the line. "Oh, now you remember me, Birdie. Thought you’d flown off for good."

You sigh softly, trying to keep your composure. "Look, I spent a lot on that bracelet. It’s not sentimental—it’s expensive. Just... I need it back."

Johnny's grin widens, a mix of amusement and satisfaction playing on his lips. "Expensive, eh? Then I reckon I’m holdin’ onto it ‘til you meet me again. Fair trade, don’t you think?"

There's a pause as you bite your lip, trying to think of a way out. "Can’t you just mail it to me? Or drop it off somewhere neutral?"

Johnny's tone turns playful but firm, hinting at his hurt pride. "You disappeared on me, lass. Think I’m lettin’ you off that easy? Not a chance. You want it, you come get it."

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Reluctantly, you agree to meet at a quiet café. As you walk in, Johnny's cheeky grin throws you off. He's leaning back in his chair, the bracelet dangling teasingly from his fingers.

"There’s my runaway Birdie. Fancy seein’ you again."

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your cool. "I’m just here for the bracelet, MacTavish."

Johnny's grin widens. "And here I thought you missed me."

The banter escalates, the chemistry sparking just as strong as before. You reach for the bracelet, but Johnny pulls it back, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Not so fast," he says, his voice low and commanding. Before you can react, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you. You can feel the heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles, and the unmistakable bulge pressing against you. "You can’t just waltz back in, get what you want, and leave. What’s the rush, eh? Sit with me a while."

Your breath hitches as you feel his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but melt into his embrace. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and you know you're in for more than just a simple meeting.

Reluctantly, you agree to stay. The conversation flows, and before you know it, you're back at Johnny's place. The passion reignites, and this time, Johnny is determined not to let you slip away.

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"You think you can keep runnin’, but I’ve got news for you, Birdie. You’re not just walkin’ out on me this time."

The air between you is electric as Johnny's words hang heavy with promise. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of determination and desire burning in their depths. You can feel the tug of his strong arms, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the unmistakable connection that pulls you closer.

As you find yourselves back at Johnny's place, the tension that had been building all day finally snaps. His hands roam over your body, both gentle and demanding, exploring every curve and contour. You can feel his breath hot on your skin, his lips trailing kisses that leave you breathless and wanting more.

"You drive me crazy, Birdie," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I can't get enough of you."

You smile, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. "You're not so bad yourself, MacTavish."

His eyes darken with desire as he begins to undress you, his touch deliberate and teasing. You help him, your hands trembling with anticipation. His shirt comes off next, revealing his sculpted body, and you can't help but admire how sexy he looks.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Very much," you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

With a swift movement, Johnny scoops you up, swinging you effortlessly onto his broad shoulders. You let out a surprised laugh as he carries you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you securely. He throws you onto the bed, and before you can react, he's on top of you, using his strength and weight to pin you down.

"You're not going anywhere, Birdie," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "Not this time."

Your breath hitches as you feel his body press against yours, the heat between you intensifying. His lips find yours in a passionate kiss, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside fading away. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a claim, a promise that this time, things will be different.

The passion between you is intense, a dance of give and take, of pleasure and need. His hands explore your body, his touch both gentle and demanding, driving you wild with desire. You arch against him, your body responding to his every touch, your moans filling the room.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together, Johnny reaches for the bracelet. His fingers brush against your skin as he carefully places it back on your wrist. The gesture feels intimate, almost like a claim, solidifying your connection even if neither of you admits it yet.

"There you go, Bonnie," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "This belongs on you. Just like you belong here with me."

You tease him about finally giving it back, but the smile on his lips and the warmth in his eyes tell a different story. "You just can't resist keeping me close, can you?" you whisper, your voice soft with contentment.

Johnny's grin widens, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Never, Bonnie. You're mine now."

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, a mix of emotions swirls within you. You feel safe, protected by his strong embrace, yet there's a lingering uncertainty. You wonder if Johnny will take you seriously, if this connection is more than just physical. His presence is comforting, his touch electrifying, but the future feels uncertain, leaving you with a sense of both belonging and fear.

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The Weekend 'Tradition'

From that night on, you both fell into an unspoken routine. You’d show up at his place on Fridays, and by Saturday morning, Johnny would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast with a self-satisfied smirk.

Your weekends were a heady mix of passion and playful arguments. He’d tease you about your high-maintenance tastes, calling you “Princess” just to watch you scowl, while you rolled your eyes at his cocky charm.

“You think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?” you muttered one morning, pulling the sheet up around your bare chest.

Johnny, still shirtless and looking entirely too smug, leaned back against the headboard. “Aye. And judging by last night, I’d say I’m right.”

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly, laughing.

But it wasn’t just the physical chemistry that kept you coming back to each other. You texted during the week—playful, flirty exchanges that Johnny looked forward to more than he cared to admit. Sometimes, you’d send him a picture of your lunch, and he’d reply with something ridiculous like, “Ye know that’s not real food, right? Come over, and I’ll make you a proper meal.”

It was easy, fun, and thrillingly uncomplicated. At least, that’s what Johnny thought.

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The Pregnancy Scare

One weekend, you didn’t show up on time. Johnny waited, pacing his flat, his phone clutched in his hand as he debated whether to call you.

When you finally texted, it wasn’t your usual sarcastic remark or teasing quip. It was a simple, cryptic message: We need to talk.

Johnny’s heart sank. Never good, that.

When you arrived, you looked unusually tense, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. Johnny greeted you with his usual cheeky grin, but it faltered when you didn’t immediately snap back at him.

“Alright, Birdie?” he asked, his tone softening.

You hesitated, then blurted it out: “I might be pregnant.”

Johnny froze. For a moment, the words didn’t register. Then his brain caught up, and he blinked at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“You... what?”

“I’m late,” you said quickly, your voice uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought you should know.”

Johnny stared at you, his mind racing. Then, to your utter shock, he grinned. “Well, I guess I’d better brush up on my lullabies.”

You gawked at him. “Johnny, this isn’t a joke—”

“I’m not jokin’,” he interrupted, his tone sincere. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Birdie, whatever happens, I’ve got you, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

For once, you didn’t have a snarky response. You just stared at him, a mix of disbelief and something softer in your eyes.

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Making Johnny Jealous

Johnny lay sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths, a lazy grin on his face. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across his skin. He watched you from where he lay, his head propped up on one arm.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress—simple, elegant, and far too classy for someone who had just spent the night tangled in his sheets. You smoothed your hair, adding a touch of lipstick to your already swollen lips.

Johnny smirked, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. “What’s the rush, Birdie? Cannae stay for breakfast? I make a mean fry-up.”

You didn’t even glance at him, focused on slipping your earrings in. “Tempting, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Johnny’s grin faltered, a faint furrow forming between his brows. “Somewhere more important than me?”

Finally, you turned to look at him, your tone casual—too casual. “I’ve got a date. Don’t want to be late.”

For a moment, Johnny froze. His brain scrambled to process your words, replaying them like a scratched record. “A... a date?” His voice cracked slightly at the word.

You nodded, your expression calm, like you hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on him. “Yeah, you know, dinner, conversation, maybe something long-term if it works out. People do that, Johnny.”

Johnny sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist, his hands bracing on the mattress as if to steady himself. “Wait a minute. You’re tellin’ me you’re goin’ on a bloody date right after... after—” He gestured wildly to the bed, his face a mix of disbelief and irritation.

You shrugged, picking up your clutch. “We’re not in a relationship. You said it yourself—we’re just having fun, right? No strings.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. “Aye, I said no strings, but that was before I claimed you as mine. You think you can just walk away from that? From us?”

Your brow arched, defiant. “Johnny, this isn’t about ownership. I’m looking for stability, for something serious. You’re... well...” You gestured to him—shirtless, rumpled, and indignant in his bed. “You’re great in bed, but this? This isn’t long-term material.”

Johnny let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked any humor. “So what? You’re just gonna find some rich tosser to settle down with? That’s your plan?”

You crossed your arms, your tone firm. “If he’s stable and can offer me the kind of life I want, then yes. That’s the plan.”

Johnny swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing in one fluid motion. His broad frame towered over you, his frustration palpable. “Stable? Birdie, you think I cannae give you that? What, you think I’m just some daft squaddie who can’t keep up with you?”

You tilted your chin up, meeting his fiery gaze with your own. “Johnny, I don’t even know what you do. You disappear for weeks without a word, you show up out of nowhere, and you expect me to believe you can offer stability?”

His lips twitched into a smirk, despite the tension. “Maybe I like keepin’ you on your toes. Keeps things excitin’, eh? But that doesn’t mean you can just go shaggin’ whoever you want. We had an arrangement, Birdie. You’re mine, and that means something.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him to grab your coat. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re not serious, Johnny. And I don’t have time to wait for you to figure out what you want. You can’t have it both ways—claiming me as yours and then acting like I’m just some casual fling.”

As you headed for the door, Johnny caught your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. His voice softened, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. “Birdie... you cannae just leave. Not like this. Not after...” He trailed off, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

You looked at him, your resolve unwavering. “I’m not leaving, Johnny. I’m just... moving on.”

As much as you hated to admit it, the date was actually just with your girl friends. You were spending time with them, and you were pissed with Johnny and the way he treats you sometimes—claiming and being possessive, but acting casual with your relationship. You just wanted to piss him off, to make him feel a fraction of the frustration you felt. You think of this as you walk out of his house, your heels clicking sharply on the pavement, your mind a whirlwind of anger and determination.

He let you go, watching as you walked out the door, the sound of your heels echoing down the hall. For a moment, he stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then, with a determined glint in his eye, he muttered to himself, “We’ll see about that, Birdie. You can run, but I’m not lettin’ you go that easy.”

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An Unexpected Return

It was a Saturday morning, and Johnny was sprawled on the bed, a cocky grin plastered across his face as you slipped into your jeans. The sheets were tangled around his waist, and he looked entirely too pleased with himself, his bare chest rising and falling lazily.

Much to Johnny's delight, you had come back after your last heated exchange. Despite your initial anger and frustration, you found yourself drawn back to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. You had resumed your weekend sex sessions, each encounter more intense and passionate than the last.

“So, Birdie,” he drawled, propping himself up on an elbow, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “How’d that wee date of yours go, then? Hope the poor lad didn’t bore you to death.”

You shot him a sharp look over your shoulder as you zipped up your jeans. “None of your business.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he teased, his grin widening. “You’re not gonna tell me he didn’t measure up, are you? Not everyone can, y’know.” His voice dropped an octave, dripping with smug confidence.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you sauntered back toward the bed, leaning down just enough to grab your shirt from the floor. “Let’s just say,” you murmured, your tone sweet as honey, “you’re a lot better at talking than you are at listening, Johnny.”

Before he could fire back, you tugged your shirt over your head and turned to leave. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, entirely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

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A Dance of Tension

The weekends continued as usual, your "situationship" a tangled web of passion and unspoken tension. Every time Johnny teased you about your "dates," you put him firmly back in his place—often quite literally. The truth was, it wasn't a real date; it was just a simple outing with friends, meant to make Johnny jealous. And while it had worked, his teasing only increased, fueling the fire between you.

Despite your search for a man who could offer stability, you found yourself continually drawn back to Johnny. The magnetic pull between you was undeniable, and the passion you shared was intoxicating.

“Tell me, Birdie,” Johnny groaned one night, his hands gripping your hips as you rode him with deliberate, punishing control. “Did he kiss you like this?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking as you leaned forward, your hands splayed against his chest. “No,” you whispered against his ear, your voice laced with mockery. “He was a gentleman. Something you’ll never be.”

“Good,” Johnny rasped, his grip tightening. “’Cause I’d hate to have to ruin him for you.”

You laughed, low and wicked, but your heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t worry, Johnny. Once I find the right guy, someone stable who can give me the life I want, I’ll stop coming back to you.”

Johnny's eyes flashed with anger, and he gripped your waist tighter, pistoning his pelvis up roughly. “You think you can just walk away from this?” he growled, his voice thick with desire and frustration. “You think any other man can make you feel like this?”

You laughed again, your head tilted back as you reveled in the sensation. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice breathy. “But I need more than just passion, Johnny. I need stability.”

Johnny's grip on your waist became almost bruising, his movements more urgent. “You’re mine, Bonnie,” he rasped, his voice dark and possessive. “No other man is going to have you. You’ll always come back to me, no matter how hard you try to fight it.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and exhilaration. The line between passion and pain was blurring, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up the facade. You were falling for him, and it terrified you.

----------

End of the Line

One night, it all comes to a head.

Your chest aches as you watch Johnny stride out of the bathroom, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and a towel slung low on his hips. It's impossible not to take in the sight of him, all taut muscle and raw masculinity, the very image of temptation. For a split second, you waver, your mind screaming at you to rethink everything.

You're sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Johnny, fresh out of the shower, runs a towel through his damp hair as he walks into the room. He frowns when he sees your expression.

“Birdie?” he asks, his voice softer than usual. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, refusing to meet his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Johnny.”

His grin falters. He steps further into the room, water still glistening on his skin. “What are you on about, lass? We’re fine. You were just in my bed an hour ago, screaming my name, far as I recall.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you don’t back down. “This isn’t fine. It’s messy and complicated, and it’s not going anywhere.”

Johnny frowns, his hands resting on his hips. The towel shifts slightly, which isn’t helping your focus. “What’s brought this on, then? Thought you were happy.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Happy? Johnny, I’m not even sure what this is. We’re not in a relationship, but we’re not just hooking up either. And the pregnancy scare—”

“That turned out to be nothing,” he interrupts quickly, though his tone is softer now, almost pleading.

“It wasn’t ‘nothing’ to me,” you snap, your voice rising. “It made me realize how dangerous this is. I can’t keep doing this with you.”

You steel yourself, gripping the strap of your purse tightly. You aren’t going to let him or your feelings pull you back in. Not this time.

Johnny’s piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, his brows furrowing in anger and confusion. “So that’s it, then?” His voice is sharp, almost accusing. “You’re just walking away like none of this meant anything to you?”

Your heart clenches painfully, but you refuse to show it. “Don’t you dare,” you shoot back, your voice low and trembling. “Don’t you turn this on me. This isn’t about what it meant to me, Johnny. It’s about what it doesn’t mean to you.”

He scoffs, running a hand through his wet hair in frustration. “What the hell are you on about? We were fine, Birdie. You were happy, weren’t you? I mean, we had a good thing going.”

“Good thing?” you echo, your voice breaking with bitter incredulity. “Johnny, this—” you gesture between the two of you, your hand trembling, “—this was never about me. It was about convenience. A convenient warm body on the weekends, someone to text when you were bored. But you don’t know me, not really. And that’s not enough for me. Not anymore.”

He takes a step closer, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “That’s bullshit. You knew what this was, and now you’re acting like I’m some kind of villain for it?”

“No, you’re not a villain,” you say, your voice softening for a brief moment before hardening again. “But you’re not what I need, either. I want stability. Someone who knows me beyond the bedroom, who loves me for more than just... this.” You motion vaguely toward yourself, your voice faltering. “And that’s not you.”

“Why not?” he asks, his voice rising again. “You want stability? Fine. I’ll give you that. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you. Be my girlfriend.”

You shake your head, your eyes glistening now. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know anything about me beyond what you’ve made up in your head. I can’t live like this—weekend after weekend, never knowing where you stand, what you’re thinking, or even what you do for a living half the time.”

“And whose fault is that?” he shoots back. “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length since the start. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He scoffs, his pride prickling. “You’re one to talk. I don’t even know what you do. You flit about in your fancy clothes, disappearing whenever it suits you, acting like a bloody princess or—”

“Or what?” you cut in, your eyes narrowing.

He hesitates, but his temper gets the better of him. “Or like some high-end escort.”

Your lips curl into a wicked smirk, though your heart clenches at the insult. “You really think I’m a princess and an escort? Sounds like I’m doing pretty well for myself, then.”

“Don’t start,” he warns, his tone low and tight.

“Why not?” you shoot back, tilting your head defiantly. “Does it bother you, Johnny? That I might have standards? That I like nice things? God forbid a woman treats herself without a man assuming the worst.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, save it,” you interrupt, holding up a hand. “I know what you think of me, and I’ve let you think it because it doesn’t matter. But now you’re using it against me? Classy, Johnny. Really classy.”

“Think whatever you want,” you say, your voice hardening again. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done, Johnny.”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. “So that’s what this is about? You’ve got some other bloke lined up, some stable life you think’s gonna make you happy?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, already tired of this. “It’s not about someone else. It’s about me. I won’t be your convenient distraction forever, Johnny. I can’t.”

His laugh is harsh, bitter. “Aye, sure. You’re so bloody noble, aren’t you? Princess, or whatever you are. Or maybe you’re just a high-end escort who thinks she’s too good for me now, huh?” His words are cutting, his tone venomous. “Who the hell’s gonna love a materialistic, spoiled brat like you? Or a—” he bit back the rest of the sentence, but the damage was already done.

Your chest constricts at his words, the sting of them worse than you had expected. You inhale sharply, trying to hold back tears as you force yourself to look at him. “Thank you,” you say quietly, your voice trembling but steady enough to convey the weight of your decision. “Thank you for helping me solidify my decision, Johnny.”

You grab your purse, pausing only for a moment before shaking your head. “And don’t worry,” you add, your tone soft but firm. “I won’t come crying to you. I’ll be happy somewhere with someone who’ll actually love me.”

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, but you don’t wait for his response. You turn on your heel, walking out of his flat with your head held high, even as your heart feels like it’s shattering with every step.

Johnny stands there in stunned silence, the tension in the air suffocating. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving him alone in the quiet chaos of his living room. For the first time, he feels the true weight of your absence, and it burns in a way he can’t ignore.

----------

Johnny’s Obsession

Johnny had never felt so restless in his life. He’d called you first, dozens of times, but all he got was the droning, detached tone of your voicemail. He messaged you after that, small apologies mixed with clumsy, rambling texts about how you should talk things through. But all you did was leave him on read. No replies. No acknowledgment. Just silence.

Then one day, when he tried calling you again, the line didn’t even ring. Instead, he was met with a sharp, cold message: The number you have dialed has been blocked or is no longer in service.

“Blocked?” Johnny muttered, staring at his phone in disbelief. His blood boiled, and his chest ached.

Fine. If you didn’t want to talk, he’d find you another way.

----------

Johnny Tracks You

Using what little intel he had, Johnny began digging. He didn’t need much—a phone number, a sliver of information, and the skills drilled into him from his time in the SAS were enough to get him started. But the deeper he went, the more roadblocks he hit. Your number led him nowhere—it was registered under a nondescript corporate account with no personal ties. No home address. No employment history.

It didn’t make sense.

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, staring at the screen. His instincts buzzed, a gut feeling that there was more to you than you let on.

Before he could dig deeper, his team was called up for deployment. A quick, high-priority mission that demanded all his focus. But even in the thick of the action, during quiet moments between the chaos, his thoughts drifted back to you. To the way you smirked at him. The way you felt in his arms. The way you walked out of his life.

When Johnny finally returned, worn but eager to resume his search, he tried everything—new tactics, calling in favors—but came up empty again. It was as if your entire life had been scrubbed clean.

And that only made him more suspicious.

----------

The Briefing Begins

Roach’s palms were sweaty as he glanced around the room, double-checking every detail of the briefing materials. He straightened the projector slide one last time before glancing nervously at the glass window of the door.

“Relax, mate,” one of his teammates chuckled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If only, Roach thought bitterly. He wasn’t worried about a ghost—he was worried about Johnny.

The undercover agent, the one briefing the team today, was none other than Johnny’s “birdie.” Or, ex-birdie, technically. Roach had heard all about your situationship—the whirlwind sex, the late-night phone calls, and then the crash-and-burn breakup. Johnny had been moody ever since, which was saying something for the usually upbeat captain.

Now you were here, standing at the front of the room in a smart casual suit that hugged your figure in all the right places. You exuded confidence, your sharp eyes scanning the room as you prepared to deliver your findings. Roach could barely look at you without cringing.

“Let’s just get through this without any incidents,” Roach muttered under his breath.

It didn’t help that their Lieutenant Colonel, Ghost, had mentioned General MacMillan was visiting today. The brass was here, watching their every move, which meant the team had to be on their best behavior. And if Johnny showed up and saw you? Roach didn’t even want to imagine the chaos that would ensue.

----------

Tension in the Room

The briefing began without a hitch, much to Roach’s relief. Johnny was nowhere to be seen, and you were professional, concise, and sharp as ever. Still, Roach couldn’t help sneaking glances at the door every few minutes, half-expecting Johnny to burst in.

But the door stayed shut.

After the briefing, Roach offered to walk you to your car, hoping to usher you out before Johnny caught wind of your presence. You smiled, grateful for the gesture, and began packing up your things.

That’s when the door creaked open.

Roach froze, his stomach sinking as Johnny leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his blue eyes locked on you like a hawk spotting prey. He wore his casual gear, a simple black t-shirt clinging to his chest, his dog tags glinting faintly under the harsh lighting.

“Well, well,” Johnny drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’ve we got here, Roach? Thought I wasn’t needed for this one.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression a mix of shock and wariness.

“Johnny?,” you said, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the room.

“Birdie,” Johnny shot back, the nickname a loaded reminder of what you once had.

Roach gulped, glancing between the two of you like a trapped animal. “Uh, I was just—”

“Leavin’,” Johnny cut in, his gaze never leaving yours.

Roach hesitated, but the intensity in Johnny’s eyes made it clear that sticking around wasn’t an option. With a sheepish nod, he mumbled something about catching up later and bolted for the door.

Now it was just the two of you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Johnny said, his tone casual, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a storm brewing behind them, a mix of hurt, anger, and something deeper he wasn’t ready to name.

“I could say the same,” you replied, squaring your shoulders. You refused to let him intimidate you, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Johnny stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Blocking me. Wiping your tracks clean. You’re real good at disappearing, I’ll give you that.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” he challenged, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like none of it mattered? Like I don’t matter?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “This is my job, Johnny. My life. And you don’t get to interfere with it.”

“Your job,” he repeated bitterly. “And what job is that exactly? Playing dress-up? Whispering secrets to the lads? Or are you still trying to convince me you’re just some posh bird who likes slumming it with soldiers?”

Your eyes flashed with anger, but you bit back your retort, unwilling to let him bait you.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said quietly, brushing past him toward the door.

But before you could leave, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not forcefully, but enough to stop you in your tracks. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You looked up at him, your gaze steady despite the tears threatening to form. “I already did.”

The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife as Johnny’s hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you back just enough to stop you from leaving. You froze, your lips pressed into a thin line as you turned to face him again.

“Johnny,” you warned, your voice low.

But he didn’t back down. His blue eyes were blazing, frustration and hurt pouring out of him in waves. “You’re not just walking out of here. Not like this.”

“Oh, like you get a say in it now?” you shot back, your tone sharp. You tried to pull your wrist free, but he held firm—not hurting you, just making it clear he wasn’t letting go.

“You didn’t even tell me, did you?” Johnny said, his voice rising slightly. “What you do. What you really are.”

Your jaw clenched, and you rolled your eyes, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, now you care? It didn’t matter before, did it? Whether I was some spoiled brat, a high-end escort, or just your convenient shag. You never took me seriously anyway.”

“That’s not true,” he snapped, his Scottish accent thick with emotion. “Don’t twist this, Birdie. It does matter—because it’s you.”

You laughed again, bitter and humorless, and reached for your bag. “Well, congratulations, Johnny. Now you know I’m not some high-end prostitute. Feel better about yourself? Good. Now I have to go.”

But before you could take a step, Johnny grabbed your other arm, holding you in place. “You’re not walking out on me again!”

“Oi, mate—don’t!” Roach’s voice broke through the tension as he stepped forward, hands raised cautiously. “She’s a bloody agent, Johnny. You can’t just grab her like that.”

Johnny shot him a glare that could have turned stone to dust. “Stay out of it, Roach.”

Roach hesitated, his eyes darting between the two of you and the door. His heart was racing. If anyone else—especially Ghost or General MacMillan—walked in now, you were all screwed.

“I’m just saying, maybe don’t manhandle the lady in front of the brass!” Roach pleaded.

You looked between Johnny and Roach, your expression one of equal parts disbelief and fury. “Let me go, Johnny,” you said firmly, your voice quieter but no less intense.

He didn’t let go. “Not until we sort this.”

“Sort what?” you hissed, your voice rising now. “There’s nothing to sort, Johnny. I told you what I wanted. Stability. A partner. Someone who could love me for who I am—not just what I can give them. And you—you made it bloody clear that you weren’t that man!”

Johnny’s face twisted, his grip loosening just slightly. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s not fair?” you spat, your eyes flashing with anger. “You called me a materialistic brat! A spoiled princess! You assumed the worst of me at every turn. And now, what? Now it’s not fair because you’re realizing you might have been wrong? Too little, too late, Johnny!”

His voice dropped, quieter but no less intense. “You don’t get it. It’s you. None of that other crap matters—it’s just you.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, your own emotions threatening to spill over. For a moment, it looked like you might say something, but then you shook your head, pulling your arms free.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to chase me now that I’m gone. You had your chance, Johnny. And you blew it.”

You turned to leave, but Johnny’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You think I don’t care?” he called after you. “You think I don’t bloody care about you? You’re in my head, Birdie. Every damn day. Every damn night. You’ve been there since the moment I met you, and you’re still there now, even when I try to bloody forget you.”

You froze, your back still to him, your fingers clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Johnny admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “With you. With how I feel. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t care.”

For a moment, the room was completely silent. Even the lads watching from a distance—wide-eyed and barely breathing—didn’t dare move. Roach was sweating bullets, praying to every deity he could think of that Ghost and General MacMillan wouldn’t come around the corner.

Finally, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable. “You need to figure out what you want, Johnny,” you said softly. “But don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself.”

And with that, you walked past him, your heels clicking against the floor, leaving Johnny standing there, staring after you like a man who’d just lost the only thing that mattered.

You barely made it two steps before Johnny grabbed your arm again, this time more firmly, spinning you back toward him. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was resolute, his determination blazing in those blue eyes of his.

“No, you’re not walking away from me again,” he said, his voice low but sharp with emotion. “We’re not done.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, your lips parting in shock and frustration. “Johnny, let go of me,” you said, your tone icy.

“Not until we talk about this,” he shot back, his accent thick with frustration. “You don’t get to just walk out and decide what this is without giving me a bloody say!”

“This?” You laughed bitterly, throwing your free hand toward him in a dramatic gesture. “You didn’t care about ‘this’ when you were calling me names! When you assumed the worst of me, when you made me feel like I was nothing more than a warm body to keep your bed warm!”

“I never thought that!” he snapped, stepping closer, his grip still firm on your arm. “And I never said you were nothin’, Birdie. I never meant—”

“Oh, don’t you dare backtrack now!” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You made it clear what you thought of me. Some spoiled princess, some materialistic brat, some… high-end escort, as you so eloquently put it!” Your words dripped with venom, and Johnny winced as if each one was a physical blow.

“I was angry!” he said, his voice louder now. “I said shite I didn’t mean, alright? But you—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You drive me mad! You make me feel things I can’t bloody make sense of, and I don’t know how to handle it!”

You yanked your arm free, glaring at him, your chest rising and falling as your emotions boiled over. “So you insult me instead? You reduce me to a caricature of everything I’m not because you can’t figure out your own damn feelings?”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Because I didn’t think you’d bloody stay!”

That stopped you. You blinked, your brows furrowing as his words hung in the air between you.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the cracks in his armor that he was finally letting you see.

“But you stayed,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper. “And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know how to keep you, so I unknowingly pushed you away.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to fight back the sting of tears. “Johnny…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for every bloody thing I said, for every way I hurt you. But don’t walk away from me now. Don’t leave me like this, Birdie. Please.”

For a moment, you faltered. The sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes—it was everything you’d wanted from him, everything you’d begged for silently in your head.

But before you could respond, there was a loud ahem behind you.

Both of you froze, slowly turning your heads toward the sound. Standing just a few feet away, with arms crossed and brows raised, was Ghost. Beside him stood General MacMillan, looking equally bewildered. And flanking them? Ghost’s two teenage daughters, Tommy and Bubby.

The room fell utterly silent except for the muffled sound of someone snickering in the background.

Roach, standing off to the side, looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his temple as he glanced nervously between Ghost and the arguing pair.

“Oh no,” Roach mumbled under his breath.

Ghost cleared his throat again, slower this time. “I think,” he said, his tone clipped but calm, “you two need to get a room.”

A/N: Well, folks, it seems Johnny and his Birdie (You, Y/N) turned their lives into Soap’s very own 'soap opera' (PUN INTENDED!!)—and they performed it live for the brass, Ghost’s teenage daughters (one of whom now has the receipts), and a very flustered Roach, who looked like he might just melt into a puddle of secondhand embarrassment. General MacMillan? He was just trying to enjoy the drama without choking on the tension.

Stay tuned for Part 3, where we’ll see if Johnny can salvage his soap opera debut… or if Ghost locks him in a cupboard to rethink all his life choices. 👀

[saltymongoose]

hai salty ^-^!!!! i’ve been thinking about your mw2 hcs recently and decided to draw something for you :3 i did most of 141 + roach and könig, which got me thinking. some of the people who played mw2 did NOT play it for the plot. they played it for the men. what if the player was one of them? cause i’ll be the first to admit these men do not deserve to be as fine as they are. you don’t have to respond to my question if you don’t want to. more art is probably on the way. ty for being who you are <3!!!!!!!

Omg, I hadn't even considered factoring König and Roach into this, these are just fantastic. :D I really love how you characterized everyone in this, the jealousy that the boys show is almost palpable lmao. It seems the only one who isn't a new target of theirs is Roach, at least before he steals your attention from them too.

As for the men of MW2 themselves, yes, I completely agree; I'd say a good portion of us only gained interest in the game because of them. (I mean it's COD, it's not like the plot is very relevant most of the time anyway, right?)

Although, if the Player also had this same attitude, they'd probably be very flustered just by being around the 141 (+ König), which already kickstarts their other vessels' jealousy. It also doesn't help that the 141's group can fulfill the same "roles" that the grunts can; if you want a highly dangerous killer to protect you, Ghost can do it just as well as Hank. If you like funny guys, Soap has that covered, or if you prefer the more commanding, analytical leader types, Price fits into that niche, and so on. Just from their positions and reputations alone, they're threats to the grunts, but this is made a hundred times worse if you're actually attracted to them as well.

(You never seem to blush or swoon around the four mercs nearly as much. None of them were particularly jealous people, but that seemed to be thrown away the moment they saw just how close you were getting to these new vessels, and far, far too quickly than they ever anticipated.)

The four grunts already have huge issues with having each other to compete with, so having an additional group of individuals to deal with is just adding to that. The fact that you obviously like them so much is actually even more difficult for them to process because of the one thing the MW2 guys have an edge over them with: they're human. How can grunts, arguable beasts compared to your kind, compete with one of your species for your affection, let alone an entire task force of them?

[kikueatgoo]

#sfw #artfight2023 ｜ft. esme for Thuitsu

if you're interested in commissioning me my prices are in my carrd: https://kikueatgoo.carrd.co

[lipaspantas]

FEAR&DELIGHT: Do You Find Comfort in the Disturbed?

Do you like people with their own strange quirks and habits?

Well, we shouldn't judge a book by its cover, right?

People do have different taste!

You are a baker who owns a small bakery on the outskirts of Malloricayce, a low-populated town that doesn't have any interesting things going on. You are tasked with delivering your delightful creations to the locals until a certain someone's creation is delivered to you.

It's up to you to solve the mystery of The Thing in your humble abode... And so the strange residents...

Hi! I'm not too well-versed in making games and even finishing them in the end. I suppose by me starting a devlog blog would motivate me more so i could finish this! :D

Game will include:

3 dateable characters

4 characters (Roy Prescott, Aidan Rizal, Lionel Ilves, The Thing)

multiple endings (estimation: 10 endings)

weird and dumb humor

references to movies/shows (probably games)

probably few rendered scenes (pray that i won't disintegrate into dust)

expressive and colored sprites!!!!

Game Warning!! (i will add or remove things in the future)

Stalking behavior

Misuse of drugs

violence

gore

reanimated corpse

Toxic relationships

descriptive gore and violence

illegal activity (ex: grave robbing)

Possessiveness of the characters towards you (and you too! all of you are freaky like that)

mentions of cannibalism

degradation (?)

Supernatural creatures

I'll try give updates to this game at least once a week so i wouldn't procrastinate and to inform people that i am still alive. Really nervous about this.

In the meantime, you're welcome to send asks! It would be appreciated :D

Bye-bye!

-Roach

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[shrinevandal]

this whole time i wasnn't following the male yandere tournament blog. What the hell

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɴᴇʀᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yandere nerd who everyone hates bc hes a lil bitch and tattletell

yandere nerd who even u hate

yandere nerd who voluntarily becomes your tutor once the teacher said you are failing

yandere nerd who has a huge blush on his face while helping you on your homework, stuttering in every sentence

yandere nerd whose cock gets hard when he sees your gaze on him, paying attention to every word he says

yandere nerd who bites his lip to hold in a moan when you complimented how smart he was

yandere nerd who u still dont fw, but appreciate bc he got your grades higher

yandere nerd who realizes that one your grades get nhigher, you wont need him anymore, so he hacks the teachers computer to bring your test score to a 0 (lil BITCH)

yandere nerd who you now go to everyday for tutoring, going to his house

yandere nerd who hides his shrine of your things, and panties he stole

yandere nerd who never had a touch of a woman other than his mother

yandere nerd who has a blush and stuttering when you rubbed his back, trying to fight his urges to palm himself through his pants

yandere nerd who cries and begs you to stay over at his house when it starts getting dark, knowing that if you left he was gonna cry into his pillow, wanting to see you

yandere nerd who manages to convince you to stay over, cuddling ontop of you, putting your head between his boobies

yandere nerd who whispers sweet things to you as he wrapped his legs around your waist, not wanting you to leave him

yandere nerd who now clings into you, saying that you guys are basically dating after that cuddle session

yandere nerd who pouts and sulks whenever you hang out with someone other than him, it could even be your female bestie and he would be pulling on your arm, telling you "lets go!!! I dont wanna be near this roach!! Come, n/n!!" whining

yandere nerd who suffers from jealousy issues, wanting to bang his head against the wall anytime you post an insta picture that has someone other than you in it

yandere nerd who pouts as he touches himself, rubbing his pinkish tip as he messages you crazy text messages saying what he wants you to do to him, jealous that you were hanging out with someone other than him he wants that cute, pretty hand of your touching him, and shoving ur fingers down his throat

yandere nerd who is ur lil helper and will always be! <33

WSG CHAT

SEND REQUATS NOEWWWW

[aethelwyneleigh27]

The Type of BF/GF Cod Characters Would Be (Scenario)

You know, like that one thing circling around TikTok

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

And yes I'm aware that some have repeated characters, some fit more than one

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I'm honestly on a roll and I've had my morning coffee so I'll start cracking, I have been trying to post more recently since it's October and I didn't really partake in the tober fests so I thought posting more might be good. Just me or are biker fucking hot? Yeah it's probs my thing for masked men.

Disclaimers/Warnings: OOC??

Doberman Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose first instinct was to protect you when you officially became theirs, initially they were always protective in subtle ways, subtle ways that also assert dominance over others. Little things like having a hand on your lower back or gently gripping your waist to move you. Their claimed spot is behind you, since they always find it to work when intimidating others and making sure no one even glances at you the wrong way. Might seem like they're intimidating but to you it's a different story, they're sweeter, more docile? Just far more affectionate and you basically have them wrapped around your finger. Switches in the bedroom but dom leaning, can be subs if you want them to be.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

Golden Retriever Boyfriend/Girlfriend who are so loyal to the bone, they're fun and oftentimes a little himbo-ish? Quality is the best spent with you, kind of follows you around all the time. They're very clingy but do respect your personal space if you aren't in the mood, though that's what you love about them isn't it? That's they're insistent and wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Also love doing things for you (acts of service) and lives for it when you praise them. Switches in the bedroom, sub leaning.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Tabby cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose chill around others but absolutely craves your affection behind closed doors. The kind of people sometimes randomly show affection in front of others even if they HATE pda. The kind of people who have been traumatized yet still affectionate as can be, everyone loves them for being down to earth but they do have bit of an odd side that only you see. Is a hardcore switch, no leaning.

Characters: Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Black cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend who randomly bring home things that made them think of you, they knew you'd like it but only let out a subtle smirk. Lives for you being their adorable little sunshine, mean and cold towards other but less with you. Tried to give you tough love but eventually gave in because you are you. You know how cats sometimes bring you dead animals as a proof of affection and acceptance, they've done that... only with a human head of course. Providing for you and making sure you're taken care of is their love language, very protective and can really hurt people if they wanted to, someone hurts or upsets you? Their head will be displayed on your front porch. Hardcore doms in the bedroom. (Yandere AU anyone??)

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

[campbell-rose]

Hazbin Hotel Redesign - Nifty

My girl, my baby. I'll be honest, I had so much fun figuring out her colors and a backstory

Niffty died in a hoarder house that she desperately tried to keep clean. I’m trying to go for ‘charlie kelly but he does his job’.  

In the show, Niffty acts like a child. I’m not the only one who got that, right? I saw her and how she acted and thought she couldn’t be any older than 16. I’ve seen on some places (like the hazbin wiki) that she is 22 but like, idk. In my version she died as a teenager. I think making her young helps contextualize how dumb she is, because in the show she really isn’t that bright – in my version she isn’t stupid, she’s a child. Specifically, either 14 or 15 in junior high. She is Japanese and lived in Japan all her life. She’s also from the 1970s instead of 50s. 

I’m assigning sins to each human in hazbin, and Niffty’s sins were Wrath and either Sloth or Lust – subject to change. 

I’m basing what led her to sinning and going to hell off what the show presents, and making Niffty in her human life a, for lack of better term, yandere. She had a crush on lots of boys in her school, but one boy in particular caught her attention. She began to stalk him, collecting things of his like pencils and pens and notes, which escalated to chunks of his hair and pieces of his clothes. She would take photos of him and constantly followed him. Niffty eventually became so obsessed with him, she began plotting to kidnap him and keep him in her basement. She tried but hit a road bump when things didn’t go as planned. She tried to explain what she was doing to him, and confessed her ‘love’, revealing she’d been the one taking his things and stalking him. He is, of course, horrified. Niffty, perceiving this as rejection, attacks and kills him in a fit of rage and hysteria but also sustains multiple stabs in the fight, which she succumbed to. She died in her house, surrounded by trash and roaches. 

Her house was a hoarder house due to her mother’s deteriorating mental health. Niffty is constantly cleaning and hates the filth she lives in. I think if an episode was to show her backstory, the state of the house could reflect her mental decline as her obsession becomes deadly – the roaches and bugs become numerous as she becomes so obsessed with that boy she stops cleaning. 

Now for her design, the spots of what looks like blood make sense – in my version of hell the sinner’s wounds that killed them never heal so those blotches are Niffty’s actual blood from where she was stabbed and that are constantly bleeding. I’ve taken some inspo from oni in her design with the tusks. Her clothes beneath the apron are her school uniform, mainly because I want to show she is a child underneath the cleaning lady job she’s assigned to. In hell, she’s a bug, which she hated in life. 

I’m struggling to fit her and Alastor’s connection in this. She still is under a contract with him, and he basically owns her as he does Husk and – since he’s an overlord – torments her regularly. 

[shrinevandal]

beloved titular character of one of the most famous and critically acclaimed musicals of all time vs some dead gay teen from an obscure and long-abandoned vocaloid series: who will win? the answer may surprise you

Final Round.

[lxvvie]

@art-herog, you have called and I have answered. I think. And then I went and tweaked it so the scenario is as follows: your lovely babies are doing their own thing and ignoring you. how would they respond to you calling them someone by else's name as a prank?

Capt. John Price - It doesn't register because he's lost count of how many pet names you have for him and he assumes this is the latest one. Your prank dies a solemn, cigar-ridden death.

Gaz - "WHO?!" It's funny watching Gaz get all jealous and shit with his nostrils flaring. Yeah, that's what you get for the last prank (said prank woke you up from a good-ass nap).

Alex Keller - Has a delayed reaction. You think he didn't hear you until you hear, "The hell you say?" And thus he close shut the jaws... of Sweet Keller Lovin'. By refusing to manspread. Yeah, you wanna play that game? Good luck getting another glimpse at his sweet thighs, babe.

Soap - Is devastated in Golden Retriever. Was busy watching the latest football (soccer) game when you... when you broke his heart. How could you do this to him? Is willing to find and fight the bastard for his (his as in Soap's) honor because he gave himself to you mind, body, and spirit... after he sulks some more because his team just had to lose the game.

Ghost - A total Petty Betty 'cause you got him fucked up lmao. Doesn't really respond to it aside from a heated glance initially. And then he gets you back. You ask him a question: "Mm. Ask the knobhead, he'll have 'n answer for ya." You try to flirt with him: "Sorry. Simon is spoken for." You can practically see the smirk in his eyes. Touché, you bastard. Touché.

Alejandro - Was sifting through paperwork. Called him handsome to get his attention. No response. Okay, then. You then called him gorgeous. Still no response. Then: "You hear me, Rudy?" Alejandro stops mid-sift and stares. Hard. Bonus points because Rudy was in the vicinity and poked his head in all, "You called?" You're smirking, Alejandro narrows his eyes and turns to stare at Rudy, and poor baby doesn't even know what the fuck is going on.

Rudy - His whole reaction can be summed up as '??????????'. When it hits him it turns into '?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?'. Wait, who the hell is Dasher—?

König - König's inner Eldritch Horror Call of Köthulu Yandere comes out in full force and oh wow, did the air change all of a sudden? What's that tension? You turn and he's staring at you. Calmly. Evenly. He doesn't even blink. And then, "Who is Prinz, Schatz?" Turns out the person he lost that sniper position to took the callsign Prinz and König decided to one-up his ass. Once assured it was all a prank, he's back to his... normal self again? A Shadow over KorTac, indeed. It's on sight, PRINZ!

Horangi - Turns out one of the names you used is an alias he tried to use to get into a game but he got found out. He tells you the whole story and everything. It was riveting as shit, so much so that you forget you were even trying to prank him.

Graves - Doesn't even bother to react. Not really except for this one line: "Mm. He fuck you as good as I do, darlin'?" PHILLIP, PLEASE—

Valeria - Hits you with another Uno Reverse and calls you by the name of one of her exes. Thought you were being fucking cute with that prank, eh?

Roach - Wait, when did he receive a new callsign?

Keegan - Wasn't quite outwardly reactive but was mentally drafting a plan to find the bastard if only because they had an incredibly shitty name compared to his. Or something like that.

[allfearstofallto]

Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?

[kiame-sama]

Drag Me to Hell- (Yandere!Alastor x Chubby!Reader) pt 4

Warnings; Several spoilers for EP 8, violence warning, mention of blood warning, injury, stick with it I promise, kind of cliffhanger, Nifty is a wild little thing,

~~~~~~~~

"Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Almost makes one sentimental, eh Ladies?"

"I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!"

"Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit, one could get accustomed. What do you think, my precious Doe?"

You stood with Alastor and Nifty, watching the sinners you lived with for months drink and enjoy their evening. Part of you was honestly sad you may not see them ever again after that night. Who knew what heaven had in store for everyone or if anyone would even make it through the onslaught.

"I... hope everyone makes it through this. I don't know how much help I can be to them, but I truly want to help them however I can."

It was then Alastor laughed, almost seeming hysterical in his laughter and that put you on edge. Something about his laugh made you feel like you had said something that set him off and that was a concerning feeling for you.

"My adorably naïve Doe, what in Hell makes you think you're going to be anywhere on that battlefield? No, no. You'll be safe where you belong in your microphone home and far from Heaven's table scraps. Enjoy this night, Dear. This may be the last time you see our wayward pals again."

You were both unsurprised and horrified at Alastor's words. Part of you honestly thought you would be fighting the angels with the others and to hear Alastor so casually state his plans to lock you away upset you. There was no fighting or arguing with Alastor, but you also felt compelled to at least try and convince the cannibal demon to allow you to stand with the souls you befriended.

Before you had the chance to speak, there was a sudden weight added to your head and you saw Nifty putting an oddly woven crown with several dead roaches on Alastor as well.

"I dub thee King and Queen Roach."

"Oh, to understand your twisted little mind."

Both Alastor and Nifty laughed, but you struggled to find the same humor in the moment when the reality of all you could lose loomed over you.

~~~~~~~~

Everything was dark spare for the glowing neon lights outside of the broken radio tower. So vastly different from what it had been seemingly moments before. The arms that wrapped around you and held you snugly only served to ground you from the absolute terror you had been in.

"Please..."

Your voice was a whisper that only seemed to echo among the rubble around you. His arms tightened in response for just a moment, his body tense. The broken microphone you had been contained in was clenched in one of his fists and almost felt cold against your body.

"Quiet, sweet Doe... Do not speak now..."

A part of you was terrified to remind Alastor that your deal had been broken and you didn't need to follow his orders anymore, but an even stronger part of you hesitated to think back on how it all fell apart.

It came from seemingly nowhere. You were safe within the microphone when the blast of heavenly light pierced into you. What neither you nor Alastor realized was that when a deal created item like the microphone breaks, the deal and the soul bound to it break as well. That was really all you remembered before your own mind blocked the rest out to protect you.

You winced at the memory despite your now healed stomach. When you awoke after being swallowed by Alastor's darkness, your body was healed almost completely. The only thing left of the splitting injury was a freshly healed scar around your midsection and an oddly empty feeling within.

Alastor couldn't stop himself from replaying the memory over and over in his mind and he hated what it meant for him and the soul he had found himself so fond of. Mostly he hated how he had reacted to it and the truth he now knew in himself. He couldn't deny now that he needed you and losing you was enough to show him that.

The sound of your choked and gasping cries made agony rip through Alastor's damned and tainted soul far more than he realized it would. Both pieces of the microphone in his hands and your soft body laying beneath Adam's axe as the angel grinned maliciously down at you. Your deal with Alastor to keep you safe and alive had been broken.

"Well, ain't that cute. Looks like I got your little fucking sinner bitch instead of you, she- this is one of heaven's souls. Where the fuck did shit like you get a soul from heaven? Damn it! They'll lose their shit if I kill one of our souls!"

He couldn't deny it, but he would never admit to it. Alastor would never admit to being afraid and desperate to not lose you because his own ego couldn't take it. Though he could no longer delude himself, he could still delude everyone else. Everyone except for you.

"Make another deal with me, my innocent lost Doe of heaven. Keep my eternal secrets for me. Broadcast for me with your pure radio waves and soul. I will keep hell from tainting you, and you keep your heaven touched soul reserved for me. Strengthen my radio station and be my trusted pet once more..."

Alastor hummed against your shoulder in a soft tone, knowing that he needed to get you back on his leash. He wasn't the only one in hell aware of your pure soul anymore. A heaven touched and claimed soul so untainted and pure was a very rare thing. Whatever angelic pride resulted in you being wrongfully cast out allowed Alastor a fantastic trophy of a soul. Despite still being considered the quarry of heaven, you wound up in Hell and you would remain there if he had anything to say about it.

A sinner's soul was one thing. One of heaven's souls was another entirely.

"Refuse... Well, we both know the broadcast can keep your sweet voice and soul protected for another half a decade. At least I don't make you scream for it."

~~~~~~~~

Vox watched the video over and over again of the soft woman Alastor supposedly kept within his microphone. What that stupid first human said peaked his interest in this Hell-bound heavenly soul. If he could get his hands on that soul there were certain to be some grand abilities paired with it, not to mention the value of such a soul in Hell's market.

All Vox had to do was convince Valentino and Velvet to put value in the same soul and it would be akin to a one-way ticket to the strongest overlords Hell has known. Well, that and wresting the pure soul from Alastor's control. It shouldn't be too hard given the fact that their deal was broken, but Alastor was likely to try and make another deal just to keep that sweet soul to himself.

On top of just the heavenly soul, the soul of the little maid Nifty was certainly a hot commodity given just what she did at the end of the extermination battle. With both souls in hand, Vox might not even need the other Vees in time. He could rise above the two Vees he had teamed up with and become more powerful than even Zestial.

No doubt the other Vees won't be too difficult to convince when it comes to the idea of collecting the two high value souls. Once Vox has his hands on those souls and can use them to taunt that old-timey prick, he will finally have everything he wants within his reach.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

HII!!! and happy birthday to you ♡♡ i love ur works sm, for ur special birthday event, could i request — ryomen sukuna, mean, " i love you, and you don't deserve that " ?? AGAIN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND HAVE THE BEST YEAR!! (｡>﹏<｡) feel free to change it up! you're the birthday author afterall<3

AHH these are late, but in my defense I got very drunk then had to work off the hang over lol.

that being said, thank you so much Nonny!! This is so sweet and I feel kinda bad because this one got pretty dark. Trigger warnings for Domestic abuse, non con/dub con implied, emotional abuse and manipulation, and yandere themes. you have been warned, Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

Now Presenting...

Starring: An cold complicated Ryomen Sukuna, taking it out on a Reader that doesn't deserve it.

There were few things on this earth Sukuna found more vile than humans. Maggots, maybe, but at least maggots served a purpose- they were important to the nutrient cycling of many ecosystems. But what the fuck did human do? They destroyed with reckless abandon, conquered without a second thought, and bread like roaches to continue the destruction long after they were gone. They were creatures of hate. And maybe that’s why Sukuna couldn’t stand them. They were just a little too much like him.

That was all with one exception. Y/n was a human that challenged every thought he had about humans. She was kind and generous, but still not afraid to get her hands dirty for what she believed. She proved that much when she ran out to stop him from destroying some elders home of all fucking things. He didn’t know what was funnier, that she thought she could challenge him, with her meek frame and zero battle experience, or the look on her face when he threw her over his shoulder. 

He had planned to throw her to his hoard of underling curses and let them tear her limb from limb. A fitting punishment he thought, she wasn’t really worth his effort. When he got to the throne room, he looked down at the writhing mass of curses below the tall platform his throne sat upon. He watched them all move as one, entangled together in a breathing wet sea of shit and hunger. They needed to eat.

And then he looked at her. The way she clung to his arm, the genuine terror in her eyes. She didn’t look like she had before on the battlefield, so willing to give her life to save another. Now she looked as if her entire being was made of ice and terror, as if she’d shatter if the breeze blew the wrong way. He felt a tightness in his chest, like some otherworldly being was pulling the sinew that laid there apart, cord by cord. And he threw her into his sleeping quarters instead. 

And ever since that day all those months ago, Sukuna had been complicated. A fucking human complicated him, it was almost comical. He caught himself being vulnerable around her, and he coludn’t fucking stand it. For every quiet sweet moment they had, he had to double down with two or more acts of brutality to make himself feel better. Except, it never made him feel any fucking better, in fact it made him feel actively fucking worse. The betrayal and hurt behind your eyes always made him feel minuscule, and it only made his hate of you burn even brighter. 

It was moments like these that made his skin crawl. When your head was resting on his chest, arms wrapped around your body as best as they could be, legs still trembling in the aftermath of your shared sin. When he realized his heart was calm, and his claws didn’t crave blood in your presence. His reaction to comfort was always visceral anger. 

“Get off of me wench.” He growled, jerking his shoulder up and launching you out of your near sleep state. You looked so hurt.

“Oh, this again?” You muttered.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Whore?” Sukuna scoffed, unable to believe you felt comfortable enough to talk to him with such a tongue.

“Nothing.” You sighed, shaking your head and trying to turn away from him. You didn’t get very far before his talons were digging into your shoulder, forcing you to face him again.

“No no, If you’re going to say something, say it. Don’t try to take the cowardly way out now.” He warned. You shook your head, knowing better than to make eye contact right now.

“I just don’t want to fight-”

“Oh, you think this is a fight?” He laughed, “that would almost be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.We don't fight Y/n. You forget your place, and I remind you of it. Fighting implies you to be my equal, which you never will be.” he said, his voice dripping in condescension and laced with contempt. His poison shot straight into your heart, coursing through your blood and to your tongue. You were so tired of his bull shit. 

“Oh, really?! Is that what happens?!” You laughed back to keep from crying, “Because from my view, You realize you have a heart and get so scared of it, you have to hurt someone smaller than you to feel like a man aga-!” Yea, you weren’t shocked when he struck you. You held your face, knowing there would be a bruise you could take fingerprints off of forming. You’d long since become used to his treatment. He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you to look at him. You could feel individual follicles being pulled from their roots as he raised you off the bed, as he drank in your scream as if it was the finest of wine. 

“Listen here Brat,” Ryomen always had a way of making even the most mundane words cut into your soul, “You’d do well to remember who the fuck you are talking to when you speak to me. I am not your friend, I am not your lover, you are fucking nothing to me. You’re less than nothing to me. Wrong me a-fucking-gain and your villiage won’t stop finding pieces of your body.” He snarled, throwing you off the bed. 

You braced for impact, but that still didn’t stop the collision from sending sharp waves of anguish through your already bruised ribs. You took in a sharp breath and tried to keep the tears swelling in your eyes from spilling over. He wanted you to cry. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. You got to your hands and knees as quickly as your body would let you, then sat up as best as you could.

“Do you know what your problem is Sukuna?” You mumbled from the floor. He raised an eyebrow at you, genuinely shocked you had more to say after that. Normally, physical violence shut you up pretty quick. 

“And what is that Y/n?” He asked. You took an edge breath in.

“Your problem is that you don’t want to keep being a warlord. You’re tired of it, it bores you, you want to do something else. You found something that only makes that feeling stronger. And you can’t stand it! Because you don’t know who you are. You have no idea who Ryomen Sukuna is without the power and the blood thirst, and that fucking terrifies you.” Sukuna didn’t even argue, and he wasn’t surprised you read him so clearly. You had always seen through him as if he was nothing more than a fragile bubble. 

“And do you know what my problem is?” You growled. You waited all of 3 seconds before responding to his silence, “My problem is that I love you. And you don’t deserve that.” A chuckle left Sukuna, but it was humorless. His eyes didn’t hold any anger or angst, he looked as if he was made of stone. He finally got up from the bed, and moved to you. He crouched down to be at your level. 

“Things are only going to get worse for you from here on out. I hope you're prepared.” he said, zero emotion making its way to his voice or eyes. He pushed you onto your back before standing up again and leaving the room. Once he was back in his own sleeping quarters, he punched a hole in his wall.

How fucking dare you tell him you loved him! Who the fuck did you think you were?! And why the fuck would you confess that after he threw you to the fucking ground? As if you were nothing more than a used cum rag! He roared as he ripped some random piece of art off the wall and smashed it against the floor, splintering the wooden frame. Your words kept echoing in his head, phantoms that wouldn’t let him rest. I love you, and you don’t deserve it.It made him sick. Because he didn’t deserve it. And because he loved you too, and you truly didn’t deserve that.