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captainjamster · 3 months

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Underrepresented!Reader Series

Pairing(s): Price x recovering drug user reader Warnings: Discussions of drug use/abuse, contemplation of driving under the influence Wordcount: 2.1k Summary: An impulse to relapse in your sobriety is halted when John catches you sneaking out. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Terribly sorry to be selfish, but I have to admit, this one is entirely for me. I am genuinely nervous to post this one, I know the world isn't always friendly in its perception of individuals struggling with substance usage, but we're sending it.

Full fic is under the cut <3

The urges have been picking away at your sanity for the last week.

Each floorboard creaks a song of your deception, calling out their weary complaints tauntingly with each step you take, and you pray the noise isn’t loud enough to wake John. It was easy enough to untangle yourself from his limbs, kissing his temple and murmuring something about the toilet when he reached for your departing figure with a sleepy grumble. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom was more challenging, the door pushed open and tugged close again just for effect, straining your ears with the air caught in your chest as you waited for his breathing to even out into deep, rumbling snores.

The further away your bedroom gets, the more your resolve begins to crack as you ride the dip of the overwhelming desire, rationality fighting through the impulses that beg to occupy your conscious thoughts. It’s not too late to turn back, slip under the covers again and back into John’s arms. Feel the grunt vibrate through his chest when you let him know you just needed a glass of water from the kitchen, that’s all, and fall back asleep to face the same dilemma all over again in the morning.

You keep walking, focusing your attention on the careful placement of your feet as the floor turns from wood to tiles, trying to drown the cacophony of thoughts rattling through your head. Though the kitchen is far enough away from the bedroom that the noise should die before it travels, you can’t help the hesitancy you move with. Like maybe if you’re quiet enough, the guilt eating at your chest will be, too.

Looking out the window that peaks between the curtains, droplets of rain are illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Your pyjamas are too thin and skimpy for the unforgiving chill of the winter air, and the dressing gown you snagged from the bedroom door would only keep you so warm if you walked. Frustration flares as you consider another obstacle in your path, resurfacing the tug of war between relapsing or sobriety you’re trying to avoid as an irritatingly logical voice in your head pleads you not to disappoint John, not to disappoint yourself like this. The car it is, then.

Grabbing the damn metal without sending tinkling chimes echoing through the house is agonising, and you wince with every clang of the keys. It takes some patience to guide them out the wired basket they live in without catching them on the aluminium wires, exhaling a relieved sigh when they’re safe in your hand. The keys eat at your palm as you grip them, shimmying your slippers on delicately as you brace yourself to coax the door open, doubts flying through your head as you get deeper in.

The more you consider it, driving seems too risky. Maybe if you roll the car in neutral, you can push it down the street, far away enough that the engine coming to life won’t rouse John from his sleep – but you can’t drive back fucked up, especially not if you overdo it. Pain throbs in your hand as you clutch tighter at the keys, feeling the dents they make in your palm without looking.

Fuck it. It would be way easier to drive home with everything, pull up across the street and push your car back into the driveway. You can’t do it in the car – god, John would be so upset if the sniffer dogs ever alerted to his car – but there is that public bathroom down the street. At this point, even your own damn backyard could work. That’s a problem for when you have the drugs in your hands.

Convincing yourself there’s nothing to fret over with the illusion of a solution, you push yourself off the wall, reaching out for the doorknob. You know it clicks when you open it, but maybe if you’re slow enough, then –

“Hey, baby.”

The keys jingle almost comedically as your grip loosens, freezing in place as your blood runs cold. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, fumbling as you try to work out the right response. “John…”

It takes a moment for your body to cooperate and turn on the spot. John’s eyes are puffy with sleep, one palm pressed into his socket as he squints at you with the other, running his hand up and down through the hair of his chest. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

There’s no accusation in his voice, despite that you know he’s smart enough to have worked it out. Your hand falls back to your side, clutching at the soft fabric of your gown.

“S’just…”

He shuffles over drowsily, yawning against the back of his hand as he stops just out of reach, leaving enough distance to keep you from feeling cornered. You can’t keep contact with his gaze, trailing down his bare chest, the waistline of his boxers, to his bare feet where it stays. John takes note of the hesitant silence, the way your body trembles in the shadows of the moonlight, and gently asks another question.

“What did you want to go out for, baby?”

He’s so sweet. Giving you the benefit of the doubt, a chance to explain without pushing assumptions and imagining the worst. It leaves a bitterness in your mouth, self-pity clawing at your chest as you crash with the disappointment of the moment, so torn between being grateful and being fucking pissed that you’re caught.

“You know.”

It burns to admit, struggling to swim through the shame and disgust rising in your body. Admitting it explicitly feels too much, but John still understands, humming acceptingly without any displeasure. When your eyes flicker back up to his face, his brows are furrowed in a loving concern, looking over you in that way John does when he’s trying to solve all of your problems in his head.

“Come sit on the sofa with me, love?” He prompts, extending a hand for the keys. You stare into his hand, raising your own arm to hover above his palm reflexively, but your fingers fight to loosen around the metal.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “it’s okay. I’m not going to stop you, this is your choice. At least let me drive you so I know you’re safe.”

The proposal breaks your heart. Sneaking around to do drugs behind John’s back is one thing, but dragging him into it is another – one that’s entirely off limits. Your head is shaking urgently before you can find words, pulling your hand away to stuff the keys back into their basket. “Absolutely not. No, never.”

He drops his arm, bringing it back to his side. “S’alright too, darlin’. Just an offer.”

The space falls quiet as he watches you patiently, leaving time for you to speak up or make a move. When stillness keeps you rooted to the spot, hands tangled forcefully in the plush of the gown, he pipes up again. “Speakin’ of offers, would you come to the sofa with me? We can stay here, but it’s a bit comfier than the floor.”

The lightness in his tone is another gentle reassurance he’s not mad as you nod slowly, tugging at the inside of your lip to hold back the floor of tears. You sink lower into the mess of your emotions with each step, trying to keep composure as you follow him to the sofa. The plush furniture groans as John settles into it, purposely leaving his arm wide for you to curl into him. It takes a moment to curl up against him, feeling undeserving of the unconditional warmth he wraps you in as he tugs you closer.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on, doll.” He whispers, running a hand through your hair.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He hums understandingly, allowing you to continue without interruption.

“S’been bad the last week. Can’t stop thinking about it, everything reminds me of it in the most irrelevant ways. It’s like it never leaves my mind. It makes me fucking miserable.” The air struggles to reach your lungs through your choked up throat, breath hitching as you fight to keep it under control.

“Thought that…” Swallowing around the lump of shame in your throat is painful. “I thought I could just go out for one deal, just one. Could come home before you wake up, shower, and I could be happy again and you wouldn’t be stuck dealing with me like this! Just for a week, a few days, even a fucking day. Just some fucking reprieve from this bullshit.”

The words tumble out as the floodgates break, pressing your face against John’s bare chest. Soothing hushes fall from his lips, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you crumble into him.

“It’s okay, my love.” His breath is warm against your scalp with every word. “I know it’s been tough for you lately, baby, I see you workin’ so hard.”

The assurance has you sobbing harder, shoulders shaking as you gulp down oxygen between wails, and he does nothing but hold you closer. “You’re doing such a good job staying sober. Must’ve been so hard to fight those urges all week. Sounds like there was a lot triggering you, huh?”

All you can do is nod weepily, bringing a sleeve up to wipe at your runny nose. Words feel far from your grasp as the emotional intensity of your week fully hits you, but John doesn’t stop with the hushed reassurances. “M’not mad, you haven’t disappointed me, love. So proud of you for still tryin’. Even if y’did go, you wouldn’t disappoint me. These things happen.”

Your chest aches as tears stain your face, slick against his damp skin that catches each drop. John doesn’t care about the snot or tears tangling his hair, letting you sob into his chest like a tissue. “You’ve been strong for the last few months, it’s okay if you fall this time. S’okay even if you fall tomorrow, and the day after that.”

Each breath is still ragged, shaking your figure with a fierceness that won’t let you keep your fingers together. John steps in, sliding his fingers between yours, rubbing circles over the back of your hand. “I know, sweet thing. Can you try’n breathe with me? Know y’can do it, take a breath with me, jus’ like that.”

He takes a deep, purposeful inhale that moves you with him, exhaling it slowly and repeating until your breath falls in peaceful synchronisation. For however long passes by, it’s just you and John rocking through the last of your distress, the warmth of his body and touch of his skin keeping you from floating too far back into the guilt and temptation ringing through your mind.

“Remember what your therapist said?” John speaks up, soft voice echoing through the quiet, dark living room. “Urges and relapsing are a part of your sobriety.”

“Being sober isn’t a destination, it’s a journey,” you mumble into him, closing your eyes as the mantra washes over you.

The room falls silent for long enough that you almost dose off, lost between the comforting touches of John and the weariness that begins to replace your fading adrenaline.

“With me, sunshine?” John prompts, running his nails along your scalp soothingly as he catches the dwindling of your consciousness. Despite the hoarse, watery “yes” you mumble into his chest hairs, you can still hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “What can I do for you, hm? Anythin’?”

You reject him with a refusing hum, shaking your head. “Nothin’, just stay here.”

“Couldn’t think of anythin’ I want to do more. I’ll carry you back if you fall asleep.”

The thought of putting John through any more trouble tonight has you frowning, pushing yourself away from him despite his reluctance to loosen his grip, giving you a curious look.

“Save you the trouble, let’s go now.”

His eyes crinkle with the turn of his lips, smiling at you affectionately as you rise. Your hands intertwine as he reaches out, only loosening when he tugs the dressing gown off your shoulders, hanging it over the door as you make your way to the bed. Despite your head start, his long legs move him quicker, pulling the blankets back for you.

You slip in between the sheets, feeling the bed dip as John crawls in his side. His arms are open expectantly before you have to say anything, smoothing the sheet out to create a comfy spot for you that you snuggle into without hesitation.

The muscles hidden under that soft layer of fat in his arms flex and release as he wraps his arms around you, finding a protective purchase on the soft rises of your body. A pang of gratefulness rattles your chest, and you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing in the smell of your lover. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into the gentle lull John coaxed you into before, and once he’s sure you’re soundly asleep, he sinks into unconsciousness with you.

dividers by cafekitsune

#look. i think john would get it #as someone who 1) smokes cigars and may have a tobacco dependence 2) would see substance abuse as coping in his own soldiers #i think he would be a great partner/support system for maintaining sobriety #price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #jams writings #rep!reader writings #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 9 months

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The lights out au is the first au in a while to peak my interest : O

I gotta know, why is Sally evil and what does she do?

Also how's Barnaby doing? <: (

im Delighted to hear that!! (also hi! your laughingstock art is adorable!)

Sally isn't really evil per se... she's just sleepwalking! while having mild to intense nightmares! most of the time she just sleeps in her house, but once per day she takes a walk - a "patrol" - around the neighborhood before going back to sleep. every so often she wakes up Extra agitated, and needs to be soothed to sleep or she'll get destructive. in general, though, Nightlight!Sally just patrols and attacks anything that makes noise until it goes Quiet again

and Barnaby! well! he's having the most wonderful dreams <3

#they're both very sleepy puppets #very Whee-Snaw Snork Mimimi Snzz yk yk #yeah barn's arm is Temporarily Not Part Of Him but he's not awake to notice or care <3 #and well. hm. also it depends on which part of the au we're talking about #(most of) part one? sleepies #part two & onwards? barnaby is having a bad fucking time! emotionally! psychologically! situationally!#sally is also having a Very bad time! everyone has it rough for a While!#things have to get monumentally Worse before it starts to improve!!#wh lights out au #rambles from the bog #and i will say it now: barnaby survives. so does sally. whether they like it or not #but before all that!#good dreams!#unless you're sally! then good dreams interspersed with Terrible Nightmares!#in my mind barnaby's dream is him lounging in tree's shade during perfect weather. smoking his favorite tobacco <3

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clits-and-clips · 26 days

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Do you see a difference in not smoking weed? I’ve been trying to cut down. I smoke like 3 spliffs a day if I’m really stressed lol and it’s going on 5 years since I started. I will admit, I have cut down a LOT imo. I used to chain smoke back to back like 6 or more a day especially when I was together with my ex. But what helps you get your mind off of smoking or trying to fight the urge?

Ah jeez, I quit the day he broke up with me because I thought maybe he would take me back lmao, but I wanted to quit for a long time before that so that made it easier. I'm definitely less agitated, less anxious but I still have anxiety. I was smoking all day every day for two years, before that it was every day but not consistent throughout. I've been reading a lot, but when I cant concentrate on that I just sit on my phone a lot or watch TV shows. To be honest I really don't know what's distracting me the most... probably all the appointments I've been forcing myself to go to. The main thing for me is my anger issues, I hate being an angry person and weed made it worse (because it stems from my anxiety) my advice would be I guess to find something that genuinely takes the focus off it. Reading (find a good series), TV, art, if you have pets play with them, reorganise your stuff and cull (did a lot of that moving back home), cleaning is a good one but I dont have the energy for it anymore. Sorry if this is long haha. Focusing on my pets is a big one cause I have to be more independent with it and do it myself. Gardening!!! Buy some plants and take care of them lol. My parents and siblings are a massive help and keep me distracted so if you have a good family or circle of friends ask for their help! Set small goals and work towards them

#ask #anon #i smoked spun #so with tobacco #so ive been chain smoking basically #i guess come back and ask once ive quit those and ill have a better answer #hope this helps :)#oh and the difference would be yeah less agitation #at certain times it depends i guess cause im going through a lot at the moment #tbh it was just way past due #done with being addicted to it #spent a lot of money #spending waaaayyyy less money on it has been a good reminder to stay off it #again sorry this is long lmao

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blujayonthewing · 4 months

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one time I did an ask meme and got something like 'what does your OC smell like' for felix and while I answered it truthfully and correctly in spirit, I also fucking... forgot he smokes a pipe sometimes

#WELL....... predominantly he smells like pipe tobacco lmao #though honestly probably more just tobacco itself than tobacco smoke-- he doesn't actually smoke that often #in theory he might smoke while doing something still and quiet like people-watching #in practice he's probably also sketching or something a lot of those times so the pipe just goes out and stays out #emotional support object. also something to chew on (bad habit but better to chew pipestems and pencils than his nails)#the answer at the time was 'he has good hygiene but also does a lot of urban exploring etc--#so either neutral clean human(oid) body-smell good OR situationally stinky. depends.'#so like... yes that but ALSO. pipe tobacco lol #my OCs #felix

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flaphack · 1 year

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this is probs fucked up to say but I already miss smoking and it’s been 4 days .

#op #I feel so gross like why do I miss it so much am I that dependent on it #it’s fun . I like celebrating something and relaxing w it #this probs means the break is good for me #but honestly #I think it’s abt freedom #like back home I don’t do shit #at all . I am well behaved #but at school I can do whatever the fuck I want #and this is one of the only things I’ve gone against my parents on #I don’t really drink I haven’t had sex I don’t sneak out I don’t destroy shit I get good grades I’m a kind person #this is the first thing I have done that they wouldn’t like . and it would ruin their image of me #anyway #I probs have a problem but it’s ok bc I’m stopping anyway #btw this is abt weed #not cigs . tbh my parents would hate me more if I smoked tobacco

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justonefeather · 1 year

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I get packing underwear for myself so I feel better at work mostly. I don't go to a job where i wear sweatpants anymore but it just makes me more comfortable since i see these people nearly every day. But uhh they're a little expensive, relatively, or at least for me. But I'm finally both paying off debt and saving a little money every check, so I bought a 3-pack, since some of the underwear i have are getting holes around the waistband and the.. leg bands? The end bits. Idk i haven't bought myself new underwear in years because it's something I've thought of as kind of frivolous, what i have still lives so I should use it and not waste money on buying something new. But doing laundry today i was like hmm ok yeah i need to replace some of these (to be fair most of the ones in bad shape are not the packing underwear, i will rep this brand forever, $20 a pair is rough but if you can spare it they're great)

#I just hope they fit because they changed their sizing chart and it's confusing #And since buying their products I've lost about 4 inches off my waist so idk what will fit me i think I'm on the line of small and med #It will REALLY suck if i got a wrong size but.. idk that would just be life i guess #Also i don't actually think buying new underwear is like. A silly thing to do. I just am afraid of spending money #Like if it's not a desperate need then it's kind of a waste - like what if i need that money later for something that's bigger?#I'm always thinking about how to use the least amount of money and that often just means going without something #Like i quit tobacco to save money and that helped me cut down on weed. Now i don't even smoke weed and I'm saving so much #Like at my heaviest usage i was smoking an oz a week - which at cheapest i could get for like $100 but I gotta go out of state #Around here legal bud would run me more like $200-300 for an oz depending on if i got mini buds or not #I was spending 125 a WEEK on weed. 500 a month!!! Like bro what are you doing!!!#Now i can pay off my $3500 credit card debt while i pay my half of rent/food/bills instead of choosing groceries or minimum payments #Fucked that the world we live in is like this to begin with but I'm just happy that I'm not quite as strapped as i was before

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caeliflammae · 2 months

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refusing to buy a new vape bc i dont want to contribute to exploitation in the congo but also still being addicted to vaping leads to me just chiefing on the deadest oldest nastiest vape and wondering why i feel like shit every time i hit it

#but fuck vapes man they are literally designed to get children addicted to nicotine #like pre juul most vapes were obnoxious big box rigs that blew huge clouds and stank and were very noticeable and also deeply deeply uncool #and then juul came out with a little usb stick that blew almost imperceptible clouds and actively advertised it to teens #and dont get me started on the nicotine itself #box rigs have juice that has varied nicotine content anywhere from like .05 to 5%#disposables where i live are almost exclusively 5% so its a much stronger rush compared to other vapes #its just sad seeing what could have been the generation that stopped smoking almost entirely become incredibly dependent on vapes #and it really shows where peoples priorities lie #nobody cares that the batteries are deeply exploitative of child labor #nobody cares that they are creating a massive surge of plastic waste #and i can guarantee that Big Tobacco is either getting kickbacks from vape companies or is getting a huge wave of new consumers #because guess what!!! cigarettes are cheaper than vapes!!#and now that vaping is so mainstream cigarettes are becoming the cool artsy thing again #we live in hell actually

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sadlazzle · 9 months

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this is the first time ive gone 24 hours without smoking since i was like 14. pray for me

#glad i bought 5 packs of gum cause im gonna fuckin need it #depending on how i react to not having weed i may try n quit that too #but honestly … i don’t see my reaction being great in that sense #like i can do without tobacco. i know i can and i want to do without it #but since cutting down on weed in the week(only having 1 spliff a day) ive been a bit emotionally … fragile #i couldn’t get to sleep last night and i just started sobbing #so … yk #weed has been my medication since i was like 16 #n i cant go back on fluoxetine. i jst can’t. not after the overdose and how it made me feel #it jst didn’t work for me personally. i lost myself when i was on it and i jst went completely numb #idk. maybe i should consider some alternative medication options ?#i don’t know. i jst don’t know #im thinking a lot abt a lot of things i won’t lie #im jst at a point in my life where.. well. ive spent too much time in my life already despising myself #and not caring for myself. at all #and i don’t want to live like that anymore. more to the point.. i want to live #ive spent long enough treating myself dreadfully and frankly i DO deserve better than that #im not quite close to the stage of loving myself yet but.. i want to #i know im still gonna struggle sometimes. im still gonna feel worthless and awful on occasions #i don’t expect it to be easy. in fact i expect it to be real fuckin difficult #but .. idk. maybe i can see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel now #even if i can’t. i’ll keep telling myself that i can. and crawling further towards it #so that one day i’ll see that light for real #im just so very tired of hating myself. i don’t want to anymore #plum.txt

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worldnotobaccoday · 11 months

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Other influences that affect youth tobacco use.

Personal perceptions: Expectations of positive outcomes from smoking, such as coping with stress and controlling weight, are related to youth tobacco use. Other influences that affect youth tobacco use include:

Lower socioeconomic status, including lower income or education

Lack of skills to resist influences to tobacco use

Lack of support or involvement from parents

Accessibility, availability, and price of tobacco products

Low levels of academic achievement

Low self–image or self–esteem

Exposure to tobacco advertising

#nicotine dependence #tobacco consumers #youth under 18 years #youth and tobacco use #youth #state tobacco use prevention #tobacco use #CDC Tobacco Free #Depression #Anxiety #daily stress #smokeless tobacco

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mostlysignssomeportents · 25 days

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General Mills and cheaply bought "dietitians" co-opted the anti-diet movement

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in NEXT THURSDAY (Apr 11) in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroehttps://cockeyed.com/lessons/viagra/viagra.html, then PROVIDENCE, RI (Apr 12), and beyond!

Steve Bannon isn't wrong: for his brand of nihilistic politics to win, all he has to do is "flood the zone with shit," demoralizing people to the point where they no longer even try to learn the truth.

This is really just a more refined, more potent version of the tactical doubt sown by Big Tobacco about whether smoking caused cancer, a playbook later adopted by the fossil fuel industry to sell climate denial. You know Darrell Huff's 1954 classic How To Lie With Statistics? Huff was a Big Tobacco shill (his next book, which wasn't ever published, was How To Lie With Cancer Statistics). His mission wasn't to help you spot statistical malpractice – an actual thing that is an actual problem that you should actually learn to spot. It was to turn you into a nihilist who didn't believe anything could be known:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#harford

Corporations don't need you to believe that their products are beneficial or even non-harmful. They just need you to believe nothing. If you don't know what's true, then why not just do whatever feels good, man? #YOLO!

These bannonfloods of shit are a favored tactic of strongmen and dictators. Their grip on power doesn't depend on their citizens trusting them – it's enough that they trust no one:

http://jonathanstray.com/networked-propaganda-and-counter-propaganda

Bannonflooding is especially beloved of the food industry. Food is essential, monopolized, and incredibly complicated, and many of the most profitable strategies for growing, processing and preparing food are very bad for the people who eat that food. Rather than sacrificing profits, the food industry floods the zone with shit, making it impossible to know what's true, in hopes that we will just eat whatever they're serving:

https://journals.plos.org/plosbiology/article?id=10.1371/journal.pbio.2003460

Now, the "nothing can be known" gambit only works if it's really hard to get at the truth. So it helps that nutrition and diet are very complex subjects, but it helps even more that the nutrition and diet industry are a cesspool of quacks and junk science. This is a "scientific discipline" whose prestigious annual meetings are sponsored (and catered) by McDonald's:

https://www.motherjones.com/environment/2014/05/my-trip-mcdonalds-sponsored-nutritionist-convention/

It's a "science" whose most prominent pitchmen peddle quack nostrums and sue the critics who point out (correctly) that eating foods high in chlorophyll will not "oxygenate your blood" (hint, chlorophyll only makes oxygen in the presence of light, which is notably lacking in your colon):

https://www.badscience.net/2007/02/ms-gillian-mckeith-banned-from-calling-herself-a-doctor/

When the quack-heavy world of nutrition combines with the socially stigmatized world of weight-loss, you get a zone ripe for shitflooding. The majority of Americans are "overweight" (according to a definition that relies on the unscientific idea of BMI) and nearly half of Americans are "obese." These numbers have been climbing steadily since the 1970s, and every diet turns out to be basically bullshit:

https://headgum.com/factually-with-adam-conover/what-does-ozepmic-actually-do-with-dr-dhruv-khullar

Notwithstanding the new blockbuster post-Ozempic drugs, we're been through an unbroken 50-year run of more and more of us being fatter and fatter, even as fat stigma increased. Fat people are treated as weak-willed and fundamentally unhealthy, while the most prominent health-risks of being fat are roundly neglected: the mental health effects of being shamed, and the physical risks of having doctors ignore your health complaints, no matter how serious they sound, and blame them on your weight:

https://maintenancephase.buzzsprout.com/1411126/11968083-glorifying-obesity-and-other-myths-about-fat-people

Fat people and their allies have banded together to address these real, urgent harms. The "body acceptance" movement isn't merely about feeling good in your own skin: it's also about fighting discrimination, demanding medical care (beyond "lose some weight") and warning people away from getting on the diet treadmill, which can lead to dangerous eating disorders and permanent weight gain:

https://www.beacon.org/You-Just-Need-to-Lose-Weight-P1853.aspx

Fat stigma is real. The mental health risks of fat-shaming are real. Eating disorders are real. Discrimination against fat people is real. The fact that these things are real doesn't mean that the food industry can't flood the zone with shit, though. On the contrary: the urgency of these issues, combined with the poor regulation of dietitians, makes the "what should you eat" zone perfect for flooding with endless quantities of highly profitable shit.

Perhaps you've gotten some of this shit on you. Have you found yourself watching a video from a dietitian influencer like Cara Harbstreet, Colleen Christensen or Lauren Smith, promoting "health at any size" with hashtags like #DerailTheShame and #AntiDiet? These were paid campaigns sponsored by General Mills, Pepsi, and other multinational, multibillion-dollar corporations.

Writing for The Examination, Sasha Chavkin, Anjali Tsui, Caitlin Gilbert and Anahad O'Connor describe the way that some of the world's largest and most profitable corporations have hijacked a movement where fat people and their allies fight stigma and shame and used it to peddle the lie that their heavily processed, high-calorie food is good for you:

https://www.theexamination.org/articles/as-obesity-rises-big-food-and-dietitians-push-anti-diet-advice

It's a surreal tale. They describe a speech by Amy Cohn, General Mills’ senior manager for nutrition, to an audience at a dietitian's conference, where Cohn "denounced the media for 'pointing the finger at processed foods' and making consumers feel ashamed of their choices." This is some next-level nihilism: rather than railing against the harmful stigma against fat people, Cohn wants us to fight the stigma against Cocoa Puffs.

This message isn't confined to industry conferences. Dietitians with large Tiktok followings like Cara Harbstreet then carry the message out to the public. In Harbstreet's video promoting Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cocoa Puffs and Trix, she says, "I will always advocate for fearlessly nourishing meals, including cereal…Because everyone deserves to enjoy food without judgment, especially kids":

https://www.tiktok.com/@streetsmart.rd/video/7298403730989436206

Dietitians, nutritionists and the food industry have always had an uncomfortably close relationship, but the industry's shitflooding kicked into high gear when the FDA proposed rules limiting which foods the industry can promote as "healthy." General Mills, Kelloggs and Post have threatened a First Amendment suit against such a regulation, arguing that they have a free speech right to describe manifestly unhealthy food as "healthy."

The anti-diet movement – again, a legitimate movement aimed at fighting the dangerous junk science behind dieting – has been co-opted by the food industry, who are paying dietitian influencers to say things like "all foods have value" while brandishing packages of Twix and Reese's. In their Examination article, the authors profile people who struggled with their weight, then, after encountering the food industry's paid disinformation, believed that "healthy at any size" meant that it would be unhealthy to avoid highly processed, high calorie food. These people gained large amounts of weight, and found their lives constrained and their health severely compromised.

I've been overweight all my life. I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting when I was 12. I come from a family of overweight people with the chronic illnesses often associated with being fat. This is a subject that's always on my mind. I even wrote a whole novel about the promise and peril of a weight-loss miracle:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781429969284/makers

I think the anti-diet movement, and its associated ideas like body acceptance and healthy at every size, are enormously positive developments and hugely important. It's because I value these ideas that I'm so disgusted with Big Food and its cynical decision to flood the zone with shit. It's also why I'm so furious with dietitians and nutritionists for failing to self-regulate and become a real profession, the kind that censures and denounces quacks and shills.

I have complicated feelings about Ozempic and its successors, but even if these prove to be effective and safe in the long term, and even if we rein in the rapacious pharma companies so that they no longer sell a $5 product for $1000, I would still want dietary science to clean up its act:

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamanetworkopen/fullarticle/2816824

I'm not a nihilist. I think we can use science to discover truths – about ourselves and our world. I want to know those truths, and I think they can be known. The only people who benefit from convincing you that the truth is unknowable are the people who want to lie to you.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/05/corrupt-for-cocoa-puffs/#flood-the-zone-with-shit

#pluralistic #corruption #nutrition #food #diets #dieticians #nutritionists #junk science #junk food #astroturf #fat acceptance #fatphobia #health #nihilism #steve bannon #flood the zone with shit #general mills #dietitians

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renthony · 1 year

Text

Tobacco users aren't dirty or stupid, and some of y'all are deeply poisoned by DARE-style propaganda.

Even from people who are supposedly "supportive" of addicts and users, I see so much hateful vitriol toward smokers, as if nicotine addiction is somehow The Worst Kind, and it's okay to target them as Terrible Monsters, even from people who should know better.

"But I have TRAUMA--" Trauma doesn't give you the right to be cruel to every single smoker in the world. It does not give you the right to assume the worst of every single smoker you meet.

"But they pollute my air--" Designated smoking spots in public areas have been a thing for decades now, and I have never met a single smoker who wasn't perfectly willing to move to another location to smoke, as long as they are asked respectfully and not treated like criminals or monsters just for smoking. If you approach a smoker and treat them like a criminal and act like they're intentionally trying to poison you, they have every right to get annoyed at you. And if an individual smoker is a dick about it? That's still the individual, not smokers as a whole.

"But it sets off my asthma--" This is what is known as a "competing access need." Smokers deserve space to smoke, because drug withdrawal is severe and is a legitimate medical issue. Non-smokers and those with respiratory issues deserve smoke-free air. Two things can be true at once, and the answer is not, "so we dehumanize smokers!" Also, y'all may be shocked to learn this, but there are asthmatic smokers. I know several. Using asthmatics as a gotcha against smokers is not productive or kind to either group.

"But tobacco companies--" Are not the individual smokers, and are not responsible for tobacco companies' actions. Blaming Joe Schmoe Smoker for the actions of Big Tobacco is the exact same as blaming someone for climate change because they bought a pack of Walmart-brand hamburgers. Not only is it not effective, it doesn't target the core issue, and it's a douchebag thing to do.

"But it's bad for you--" Suicide and self-harm are worse, and cigarettes are the only thing keeping some people alive. Blame the system, not the individual.

"But vaping is obnoxious and bad for kids--" Vaping originated as a way to help people stop smoking, and it is not the fault of individuals that vaping became another predatory industry. Removing access to vapes, which are commonly still used as a tool for addicts to help quit, is not the fucking answer.

Stop being cruel to smokers and pretending you're progressive for it. Unlearn the DARE propaganda, kill the cop in your head, and recognize that someone's humanity is not dependent on their drug habits.

#original post

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extrajigs · 1 month

Text

Wanted to get into the Abby choirs. These are some of the fellas from an undisclosed (read: the favorite) Abattoir! INFO DUMP BELOW!

Starting with names! From left to right, Daniel, Michael, and Kirstin! Have a big post cooking about how to get into the club but for now what the job entails. Choirs are those blessed with slivers of the Gods power, BUT unlike the dragons and abattoirs they are born from within the Abby they'll serve. Not that Abattoir residents know that there are any others!

Choirs are tasked with keeping order and stability within their Abbies, the two main tasks are ensuring that the populace stays in good condition and making absolutely sure the tobacco quota is met. The latter being far more important than you'd think at first.

The God Worms kind of give them free reign to do whatever they want otherwise, so it kind of depends on the vibe of the choir for how your internal Abby experience shall go! Some are more laid back, some are more totalitarian. Gods don't really care as much as they probably should. These fellas within the favorite Abattoir are more laid back than most, defaulting to a more democratic approach to keep the people they're watching happy. Michael has been there the longest, a few thousand years, Kirstin and Daniel have been there a few hundred years.

Another IMPORTANT NOTE is that every choir member looks like that is because to become a member you need to partake in some divine flesh to gain godly power. Such power violently corrupts those it meets! But should you survive the process, you get a fun monster form and power in one of two veins. That of either flesh or soul. Both the separate domains of the Gods so you can only be particularly good in one. Flesh is far more common than soul, as leaning too hard into the soul aspect may result in getting kicked out of your body. :(

That's the main gist! Oh another big perk is also the initial reason most people try to join the choir! Choir members are exempt from the yearly feast.

#the abattoirs #worldbuilding #art #gif #body horror #monsters #mike is the fav

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

Note

JEALOUS FUCKGIRL YAN.. yknow if ya don't mind. Coughcoughilovegirlswhoaremean

She's impossible to read.

One minute she's all over you, next she's disappearing off into the crowd. You can always pick her out sooner than later, watching you like a hawk cozied up with someone side night cared to remember by morning. You've told yourself time and again this is just how she is with everyone. Sometimes the flirty, extroverted type just don't get they can't be that way with everyone before someone catches feelings, but it's that same attention that makes you feel like there's so much more going on between you. Maybe you're just overthinking it. As her closest resemblance to a friend, you know better than anyone she'd be a tough partner to have..

Friends...

"hey..."

Yea, that's what you are.

"Hey!"

Over the music and chattering crowd, it's understandable to mistake the voice as directed at someone else. It's when you look at the glossy eyes of your slightly inebriated floor mate that you realize they were talking to you. Taking your gaze, they crack a toothy smile as they move closer so you're able to hear over the music - eyes watching their every step.

"What's going on with you and Dylan? Saw you two walk in and hanging around town before. She's never been so public with one of her partners."

The punch at the bottom of your cup tastes more bitter than you remembered as you sip from it. "It's nothing like that. Had a rough week so she offered to take me somewhere tonight. We're just friends."

The stranger frowns, but their pity never reaches their eyes. "Shame. Seems like she lucked out this time cause you're kinda cute. What's your name?"

"It's-

"None of your damn business."

The scent of department store cologne and tobacco assaults your senses as her hands fall at your waist. You can feel the weight of her glare over your shoulder as the stranger sheepishly backs away from promity to you and her line of sight. Gripping your waist, she pulls you to her chest - shooting an arm around your neck to keep you pinned in place as she swallows her visible anger with whatever's left in your cup.

"Baby.." She draws with that honeyedly sweet tone only she could channel, resting her head against your cheek with a sigh as she holds you close. "I leave you alone for a second and you run off with a stranger. Never pegged you as the type to break a poor girl's heart, but here we are."

The stranger looks between the two of you as her breath fans your ear through her laughter, confusion and a hint of disappointment clear on their face. "Sorry, Dyl.. Not trying to steal your date or nothing. They said you guys were just friends..."

"We are!" You argue, unsure of your own defense as her lips meet the skin of your neck. "we..are.."

Moving to your collar, her teeth close as her arms tight around you - biting down with no real force behind it, but enough to leave a sting. "All I know is if you're not out of my fucking sight in the next ten seconds we're gonna have a big problem on our hands and depending on how settling it goes there might be a few teeth on the floor."

The stranger opens their mouth-

"10...."

Turning tail as she opens hers. Watching as they flee, you finally wriggle out of Dylan's arms enough to shove her away. "What the hell was that, Dylan."

She shrugs, having the nerve to look upset as you raise your voice. "What? They were getting in your space so I helped you out. You're welcome by the way."

"They were just talking to me- Why bring me to a public place and go talk to somebody else if you didn't want me mingling with others. Why do you always insist we're just friends to people then turn around and act like my girlfriend when people trying to get to know me. Do you want me to end up miserable and alone?"

Something snaps in Dylan's eyes at your accusations. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt she yanks you back towards her - ramming her lips and tongue against your sealed mouth as she clutches your jaw, applying pressure to pry you open for her. The taste of liquor and the tobacco you smelt on her prior spills onto your tongue; the jewelry of her inner piercing clashing against your teeth as she robs you of breath and grasp on whatever grounding your relationship had before this. Her hand dips into your back pocket as her husky eyes into yours - voice dropping to a whisper so the watching crowd hasn't a clue what she says. All that matters is that you do and understand your place.

"What we are doesn't matter right now. Only thing that does is that you are mine. Don't let anyone put any silly ideas in that pretty head that make you think that you're not. Do I make myself clear?"

You swallow the air you had been holding.

"Do. I. make myself clear."

"..yea."

"Good." Her face relaxes into the smile you've grown accustom to as she pats your cheek. "Good. Say I'd hate to have to remind you, but I've been told I'm a bad liar."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabble #Dylan my oc

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wonderlandperfumes · 1 month

Text

There’s nothin sweeter than my baby

Content: S.coups x reader, Hoshi x reader, Woozi x reader (separate)

Inspired by Tobacco Honey by Guerlain - moments of devotion captured in honey and sugar, as sweet as can be with your boyfriend

S.Coups

Seungcheol loves mornings - if not just because of the way the sun peers through the window to paint streaks of light onto your skin. You're a vision, his own painting that not even the museums could think of touching as he cradles you - soaking in each moment that you touch. He loves the way the sun bathes you in warmth, loves the way his stomach mimics the heat of the sunlight, he loves you and the ability he wields to call you his.

He’ll never admit it to you, afraid his little addiction might unnerve you, but right before you wake is his place of worship, like an artist to his swansong your the beauty he cannot truly part from. You're in his dreams, his thoughts and his movements even as you're apart - but here where the world cannot reach you he presses kiss after kiss to your skin, as if trying to steal a bit of your warmth for himself. Hands, arms,shoulder,neck and face he leaves whispered breathless prayer until he’s sure you’ll be able to taste his devotion on your tongue when you wake. Until he swears as he swallows he can taste sunlight.

But undoubtedly his favorite part of the morning is the butterflies that carve through his stomach as he watches you wake like it's the first day you slept together over and over again. He watches your eyelids flutter, running hands over your figure until his fingertips have all but melted into your skin to coax you awake and closer to him in every sense of the word. He’s adoring and relevant in the mornings, patient as he waits for you to smile and then allows himself the pleasure of leaning forward to press you into a kiss he knows will leave him aching.

He spends all the time he can spare tasting you so he might be able to lick his lips later in the day to have the flavor of sunlight and you on his lips.

The sun is just barely peeking out from the horizon - struggling over the land to light your features with a halo befitting of an angel. There's nothing more natural to see in Seungcheol. He waits patiently - devouring ravenously the sight of your figure wrapped in his arms and the sheets you share. You're beautiful. Always beautiful - to Seungcheol this is a fact he knows more than he breathes air. So he waits for the sun to wake you this morning too as honey he swears he can taste on his lips is pressed to your skin with fever and devotion before he grants himself to the indulgence of your lips.

Hoshi

Soonyoung has no need of a celestial body's gravitational pull when he has you to orbit. He circles you with an ease, as if there was truly some sort of gravitational push that demanded I'm near you, and if you were to ask him there is. When you're too far there's an itch to his skin , a wandering eye to spot you and sticky hands to grab you closer. If asked to point to the sun he would point to you, at the center of his galaxy curled up in his chest as his heart.

Soonyoung’s endless devotion saturates the day, as if he’s afraid that an hour without expressing his love in some way might erase it from your mind. It's impossible, he practically waits on you hand and foot - memorizing the smallest details so he might engrave them so well into himself they become his. It's his way of becoming yours. It's not over, but rather his devotion is characterized through its dependable nature - the way it writes out like a script in daily activities. Without fail he says your coffee order before his own, your image pervades through his head any time he spots something pretty as he imagines you with it. This obsession may seem tiring to others but it's easy to him - how could loving you ever be difficult.

Soonyoung is particularly fond of invading small moments layed unnoticed by the public - but not in isolation. He's the hand on the small of your back, your pinkies linking together as you cross the street, Hoshi is stolen moments and cherry cheeks as you laugh about a joke so awful it hurts. He practically drinks your laugh, as if it could truly nourish him - and maybe he believes it can. Maybe he believes that if he has you he’d need nothing else. Just your lips on his, your fingers intertwined and your gaze on him always.

The tangerine is sweet as he bites down - tart and sweet juice coating his tongue and while his members all enjoy a quick treat the only thing he can think of is you. He can practically taste you in the sugar - he remembers the way you swiped your tongue across the bottom of his lip before you left and suddenly he finds himself more hungry than he was before he ate the fruit. I miss you, he thinks, before taking a tangerine and heading towards the door. You had said you wanted some fruit earlier hadn't you? He’d peel it for you. And feed it to you - if you’d let him.

Woozi

Jihoon is a private person, he prefers what stays his, and to him there is nothing he covets more precious than you. It's not as if he’s cold in public - he could never be, not to you - but he doesn't pray himself open in the presence of others like he does when it's just you. There's a vulnerability he’s greedy for you to have - just as much as he’s greedy for you.

Jihoon is addicted to evenings with you - loves the way he can seek sin and pleasure behind closed doors just for your eyes. When the population is just him and you - Orpheus and Eurydice reformed - he thinks that myths could be born just from this feeling that bleeds from his chest. Only for you - he promises - all of it just for you. He’s a delicacy only you can bite - and he lives for your moments of indulgence.

He thinks you're always so pretty, always the more euphoric symphony of all the world's pleasure wrapped into one being - but he’s especially weak to you when the moonlight hits you - allowing your visage to steal some of its luminescence .He never allows himself to touch a camera - it could never capture your beauty in the moment - so he allows himself remembrance by taking you to himself. The way your skin feels under him, the gasps that leave your lips, the gleam in your eyes as he steals, breathes and kisses, all of this he burns into his memory.

He has music made to his memories of you bathed in moonlight on the balcony, soliloquies and ballads that attempt to touch on his bewitching lover under the glow of the moon. He can never quite pull it off and part of him mourns this - but another rejoices the ability to keep you further to himself.

To Jihoon there's nothing that's a higher law than you - nothing that can override the understanding you belong to each other. Beckon him with a finger and he’ll easily fall to his knees and crawl home to you.

This is what men have gone to war for, Jihoon thinks as he walks into his own apartment and see’s beauty incarnate lounging on his furniture. It’s a silly thought, one that would never escape the confines of his skull where it sits like unspoken begging, but it's not one he can ever disagree with as he watches you swing your legs idly off the side of his couch as the moon lights up your image. He’d be more embarrassed if he had more time to think, but you notice him too soon hovering near the doorway and you break into a smile - perhaps amused by his hesitancy in his own abode. This is what Orpheus went to the underworld to get, he thinks - and it's the last thought in a while as you crook a finger towards him - and all thought flees at your command.

Authors note: First time writing for a non-fictional character and I’m PETRIFIED that this is OOC.

#svt x reader #svt x you #seungcheol x reader #soonyoung x reader #jihoon x reader #s.coups x reader #hoshi x reader #woozi x reader

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simonrillleyyysss · 4 months

Text

*+:｡DRIVING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas!

cw; p in v, masturbation (male) ,pussy eating, squirting, oral sex(m!receiving, it’s fantasy), boob licking/sucking, groping

‘Heading home for the holidays, sir?’

The soft chirp of your voice through the earpiece caused the man’s brows to furrow, cocking his head ever-so-slightly to the side in amusement, soft huffs of cold leaving his chest.

‘It’s good to see your family every once in a while, maybe even sit on Saint Nic’s lap, hm?’

You continued, smiling to yourself.

‘Y’think Santa has me on the nice list?’

It was silent for a bit, other than the soft gusts of wind and the minuscule crackles of his radio, pale eyes narrowing into thin slits as he peered through the scope of the sniper, before your voice re-erupted.

‘Known you for years, I doubt it..but it wouldn’t be unlikely.’

A soft chuckle from the blonde made you scoff, sniffling as the cold air hit you like a truck.

‘Why, you want presents? Don’t like coal?’

‘Just want to see if y’ think I’m naughty or nice, eh?’

You shrugged mindlessly, listening to the gruff voice continue.

‘Y’ naughty or nice?’

‘Depends who you ask.’

Simon hummed, chewing on his lip for a bit before responding briefly, not continuing any further.

‘Yr’ naughty.’

The next few days were eventful, staying in a musty, aged safehouse over the christmas holidays with a bunch of men wasn’t ideally anyone’s christmas fantasy, you’d envisioned yourself sitting in a pub, drinking away merry cheers with mates and friends, yet here you were—sat on a not-so sturdy chair, Ghost’s nimble fingers wrapping the cotton bandage around your bloody calf.

‘Done this before, Lieutenant?’

You enquired, watching his nose scrunch and eyes taper; glaring up at you with disinterest, your lips parting.

‘I have experience.’

‘Lots?’

A grumble left him.

‘Some.’

Then it was silent ,thick fingers tore the wrap apart—stuffing the spare rag remains in his pocket, gently patting your calf as he stood up to his full height again; looking down at your weak , and fatigued figure.

‘Go fr’ a liedown, y’need it.’

‘M’not tired, sir.’

‘I’m not fuckin’ asking.’

With a pout, you staggered up from your chair—hobbling over to a spare room within the area, mumbling under your breath about the man; limping until you were laid on the mattress, metal bedframe freaking beneath your weight as you slung the blanket over you.

Tossing and turning for minutes turned to hours, listening to the distant chatter from behind the closed door of the room, banging of boots against the floor and slams of gear down on the tables, eventually deciding on sitting up; rifling through your pocket for a pack of cigarettes, lighting the marlboro quickly and taking a puff.

‘Y’ve a deathwish?’

Simon.

You jolted for a moment, wincing in pain and cursing beneath your breath as your calf ached—looking over at the man, whom was wedged between the doorframe with crossed arms.

‘Nothing wrong with a smoke.. Especially with how things have been going.’

Snow powdered down from the sky, watching the dark roads lay with a thick sheet of fluffy , white cloud.

‘N’ how have things been going?’

‘Well..Not merry, that’s for sure.’

The male snickered, closing the door behind him as he slunk forward to sink onto the mattress, mask slipping up as he reached to take your cigarette, inhaling the tobacco.

‘What, y’want christmas trees and carollers? Maybe even some gingerbread men.’

Frowning, you slapped his arm and stoked the cigarette back, wedging it between your lips.

‘Comedian, eh? Just want it to feel like Christmas again, like..My christmas follow; Usually out drinking, fuckin’ some lad dressed up in a pub, Buyin’ gifts..It’s christmas eve eve..eve eve!’

His eyes narrowed, tugging the rough fabric of his mask back down over his nose, watching you rant to him—your lashes batting against your cheek; arms crossed as you exhaled the smoke from your nose, cigarette perched between your index and middle finger.

‘Crier.’

‘I’m not!’

‘Big, fuckin’ crier.’

Whining, you reached out to kick his arm, the man quickly slapping your calf—watching your face contort in agony, quickly chugging the cigarette into the ashtray, smushing it.

‘You’re a fuckin’ grinch, Simon!’

‘Grow up, love.’

A scoff followed, before he patted your thigh and left the room, and your hand was immediately stuffed in your panties.

Finally back.

It was a relief, and a blessing to be back at base—immediately welcomed with a much, much comfier bed in your barracks, and the constant chirping or Kyle or Johnny in your ear, finally able to pack your belongings for a decent, christmas break.

‘Packin’ already?’

Ghost interrupted, glaring at you with heavy eyes—arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Mhhmm, need t’get home and fucking go back to normal for a week at least, can’t stay here over christmas.’

‘S’pose so.’

Silence.

‘You’re manchester, right?’

He nodded.

‘Want to stay with me for christmas? Not far from my own town.’

The question caught the man off-guard, his brow cocking upwards as his head tilted forward, pausing for a second.

‘Why?’

‘You’re lonely.’

‘That’s how I like it.’

‘Bet you’d like my christmas dinner more.’

Not even a day later, the barefaced mammoth was trailing behind you as you fumbled with the front door of you apartment, key jiggling for a second before finally pushing the door open, slamming it shut behind you both.

‘Haven’t even got my decorations up— Don’t mind the mess, yeah?’

‘Mm.’

Home, felt weird to say. But good to be back, good to finally be able to sit and bathe in an actual bath, not communal showers—

‘Y’ve a cat?’

He enquired, lifting the furry feline into his arms—looking down at the animal, which he was now practically cradling in his grasp, scratching at its head.

‘Gus.’

‘Gus?’

An amused hum left the blondes lip at that, thick brows furrowed as he tilted the creature upwards, affectionately brushing his knuckles against its furry coat, dragging himself to the sofa to place Gus down, before lifting his things to put them away in your spare room.

Afterwards, the pair of you got to work putting up your decorations, which mainly consisted of simon doing all the work, putting your tree together and hanging up your lights, but you were there for moral support! Making him a nice cup of tea and sitting down on the sofa with him. You watched the beast of a human click through the channels on the tv, Gus perched upon his chest as he sipped at the minuscule mug in his hand, a soft scowl on his face—Turning your focus over to your cat, whom you’d tried to serenade over.

‘Y’got a shower, or are you one of those bath people?’

‘Both. Why?’

‘Need ta’wash.’

The brit grumbled, placing the half-empty mug down onto the glass coffeetable, rising with a low grunt, your eyes fluttering up to accommodate to his height.

‘Down the hall, first right.’

‘Cheers.’

Warmth, Simon felt warm—Properly warm, inside, for the first time in ages. Welcomed, and accommodated for so easily, how trusting were you to let your grumpy, snarky lieutenant into your humble abode so quickly? Even the cold water from the shower raining down on his chest didn’t affect this feeling.

His hands tensed up into tight fists, head hung low and knees bent as he hovered beneath the showerhead carefully, water pouring over his overgrown buzzcut, down his stubbly, scarred face and mizzled down his scarred, sacrificial body, eyes scrunched shut.

You were so quick to come to his saviour, offer him a familial shelter during the holidays, he hated it. He hated you, he hated how he enjoyed it, he hated how you were so willing to let him do anything, let him stay in your apartment, he hated everything. He especially hated how dirty he felt while pumping his cock with thoughts of you, before christmas eve,day meant for joly celebrations.

The way you would be perched on your knees, tongue hanging out like a panting puppy, hands gripping onto the sides of his bulky thighs, so willingly taking him down your throat like you would take him into your home and shelter him.

‘fuck, throats so tight, baby.’

you moaned around him with a gag, pulling back to inhale—giggling as you bobbed your head back and forth along his length, lifting a hand from his thigh to pump at his hard cock.

wetness growing between your thighs, feeling him tap his dick against the side of your cheek, saliva smearing along your jaw, shoving himself back into your mouth without any hesitation, eyes rolling back as he scrunched your hair into a makeshift ponytail, dragging your lips back and forth.

‘Simon?’

your voice rang out, knocking on the door of the bathroom as his cum spurted along the inside of his hand, wiping it off of his palm and huffing out a heavy breath, looking over at the door.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, fine,’

silence.

‘Alright, well, I left a towel on the door for you.’

And, with that, you left again; leaving the soldier to ponder with his thoughts.

Quiet, as it usually was, the man hunched over your kitchen counter, glass of water held in freehand and the other scratching at his neck, soft scowl on his face. Thinking to himself, the soft shuffle of your footsteps on wood catching his attention, a gasp leaving your lips.

‘Holy shit—Simon! You scared the fuck out of me!’

Your eyes danced over to meet his, lips parted and head cocked to the side, brows knitting upwards.

‘You okay?’

‘Peachy.’

‘..Want some drink?’

That’s how you ended up here, slouched on the sofa with the man you’d considered your superior, christmas music strumming out from your alexa, drinking away your sorrows and conversing, watching him cross his long legs—thighs bulging out of the confines of his grey trackie bottoms, jesus, was it getting hot in here?

‘What do you want Santa to get you?’

You cut through the ice, watching his pupils scan over you, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on, sir. Lightening the mood, hm?’

Simon scoffed, clinking his glass down onto the table, your own following suite.

‘I asked Santa for a magic potion.’

…

‘One that makes y’shut up for once.’

‘I’m serious! If you could ask Santa for something, it would be?’

A purse of his lips and a scrunch of his nose made you smile slightly, he’s thinking? shocking.

‘Unlimited drinks, getting laid, decent familylife.’

Nodding, you rationalised his answers, glaring over at him, kicking him with your leg, the blonde running a hand through her hair.

‘Second one’s easy, just go out to a pub n’ find someone desperate enough to fuck you.’

‘Making me sound like a badthing, you think I’m a bad shag?’

A shrug from you, and a snicker from him.

‘Not..Bad, just strange. You’re all battered n’ torn, might scare the ladies off If you’re not careful.’

‘Y’ve not ran away yet.’

‘Why?’

An unsettling stillness gagged you, brow whipping upwards as your hands fiddled with your hair, Why? You have no idea. It could be the way you’re too nice to everyone, or the way you’re so accepting, or the way you finger yourself to the thought of him every night. So many options, yet so little answers, watching Gus skim to your bedroom.

…

‘I like this song.’

‘Driving home for christmas? Yr’ a fan of Chris Rea? Or just this song?’

‘Just this song.’

A hum from him erupted, staring at you with intrigue.

‘So? Why haven’t you ran away yet?’

‘Don’t know—‘

‘Y’hoping to get a shag? Mhh?’

A chuckle from Simon left your thighs clenching together, raising your brow and scoffing dismissively, brushing him off.

‘You wish.’

His eyes narrowed, lips parting.

‘I do.’

That’s how you ended up naked on the sofa, his tongue lapping at your moist cunny, nails digging into the man’s scalp like scissors, his hands forcing your thighs apart for himself; moaning into your pussy, muffled as his lips entangled around your clit, tending to it with gentle suckles, glancing up at you through heavy eyes and a smirk.

‘Oh—Jesus, Mary and Joseph, holy hell—Siimmoonn..’

It was like heaven had blessed you with this mountain of a man who could eat pussy like it was breakfast, lunch and dinner, globs of saliva mixing with your sticky arousal and cum, nose brushing against your cunt as his tongue circled back around your folds, tattooed arm flexing as he pushed you back down into the sofa when you slightly shifted.

‘Simon—Holy..Pull backkk..hnnngfhh..’

‘Mama told me not to waste dinner.’

And within a few seconds, you were coming undone on the man’s mouth again, hips convulsing and gasping as your thighs trembled, soaking the man’s chin with squirt, a soft slap hitting your clit with a whine, looking down at him through foggy eyes— panting like a dog.

‘Simon—Your covered—‘

‘I’m a messy eater.’

Hurriedly, your hands moved to undo the drawstring on his trackies, fingers nimbly tugging down the fabric shielding his cock, watching the bulge press against the confines of his boxers, glaring up at him with doe-like eyes, lips parting.

‘Easy, love. No rush, ‘awrite?’

The man cooed, leaning down to press his lips against yours, hand cupping the side of your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing against your bottomlip once you separated, lifting you up from the sofa to plop down in your place, sliding his boxers off before nestling you back on his lap like a ragdoll, groping at your bare chest.

‘Fuckin’ stunner, best Christmas gift Santa could’ve ever given me.’

‘Sappy, hm?’

You giggled for a moment, watching him roll his eyes before leaning in, tongue rimming around your nipples, rough palms digging into your waist as he manoeuvred you closer, your hair messy and forehead wet with sweat, grinding against him for a moment.

‘Relax, fuck you now, yeah?’

‘Hurry, Si..’

A soft scoff left him, before he grabbed your hip and sunk you down onto his cock, listening to your soft whine, stilling you for a moment.

‘All good?’

‘Fuck—you’re huge.’

A low laugh left him, thrusting himself further inside with a growl, your eyes fluttering shut with a moan, burying your face into his neck, melting together, he was still for a bit, before slowly grinding his hips in your cunt, revelling in the way your walls tightened around his veiny shaft, soft cries leaving your throat each time his cock hit that gummy spot inside you.

‘Bloody hell, yr’ so fucking tight..—oh—Would’ve thought yr’ a virgin..’

‘Mnnggghhh-si—oh, fuck..Si.!��

‘That’s it, love—fuck—Perfect pussy.’

His movements speed increased, rutting his length inside your weeping pussy, thumb rubbing quick circles around your twitching clit, watching your lips hang open, practically drooling yourself dumb on his cock, breasts moving with each fuck into you.

‘M’gonna cum—pleasepleaseplease—‘

‘Yeah? you wanna cum? that’s it—fuck—that’s it, baby, squeezing around me like a whore.’

With a cry, you tightened around him—The knot in your stomach snapping as you collapsed onto his shoulder, his hips slowly with a groan—pulling out and pumping his cum onto your stomach, huffing and puffing.

‘Y’ alive?’

‘Haaah..Think so..’

‘Yr’ alive?’

‘mhhhhm..’

‘Good.’

He nodded, leaning down to press his lips against yours—before scurrying off, arriving back with a glass of water and a damp rag, wiping the splurges of cum from your tummy, holding your chin as you took sips from the cold glass of liquid, huffing after.

‘Merry christmas.’

You smirked as he spoke, arms wrapping around his neck, thumb tracing along the scar icing his throat, leaning down to press your lips against it, feeling his hairy, strong chest against your bare one; melting into a puddle beneath him.

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