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fleshdyke · 17 days

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I saw a deer rotting away on the side of the road, ribcage gaping open, sternum shattered, sagging leathery skin shedding coarse hair as decomposition sets in. Eyes and entrails long since pecked out by crows and vultures, the doe lay blind and empty, her cranium chewed open and cleaned out by reverent coyotes. Crawling with maggots and worms, she writhes.

Wildflowers bloomed tall around her, cushioning her corpse in a bed of milkweed and aster, wild lily and strawberry bursting through her drying skin and out through the cavernous hole in her body. Wasps and horseflies drink the nectar flavoured by her body, dripping sweet onto her ribcage.

A violent death unto peaceful sleep, bones crushed like brittle eggshell by steel alloy, whiplash and internal hemorrhaging as she stumbles forward and collapses into the cold ditch by the asphalt, gasping and twitching as her lungs filled with blood, shards of her ribcage puncturing her lungs, struggling to take a full breath as spots grew larger in her vision. Twin headlights barreled on, uninterrupted and uncaring as she lay dying in the ditch, the taillights of the departing vehicle bathing her in red light as it leaves. There are no other cars in the road.

Scavengers bowed their heads to her memory as they filled their stomachs with her body, gorging themselves on cold offal, worshipful as they licked congealed blood off the ground. A necessary sacrifice to the good of the many; her agony sustains them. They don't know anything else. She sleeps, quiet and alone, in the ditch by the road, as she decomposes. Her eyes, plucked from their sockets by hungry birds to be fed to their hungry chicks, no longer saw; she slept in peaceful darkness.

I wondered what she dreamed about. I wondered if she could still see, in her mind's eye, the life she dreamed of. I wondered if all she could see anymore was the wriggling of maggots in her skull.

I wondered if the deer on the side of the road left behind a herd, maybe a fawn, waiting patiently, nestled in tall grasses, for its mother to return. I wondered if it, too, had fallen prey to the great metal maw of a passing vehicle as it, hungry and cold, searched for its mother. I hoped not, but I know better; deer don't often practice crèches.

I felt kinship with her, in a way, a deer left for dead next to the country highway, carved out empty and left gaping. I saw myself in her in the way she died alone, ignored, rotting from the inside out as cars passed by, the way she was vulnerable, defenseless; she had no way to defend herself against her fate. The scales were tipped against her, the battle lost as soon as she took her first step onto cracked asphalt, doomed beyond her own comprehension and her killer's capacity to care. She had no antlers to defend herself. She didn't stand a chance.

A faceless figure in a nondescript truck, anonymous in the atrocity of death, with no witnesses and no guilt for what they had done. Perhaps I'd already passed them on the street. Perhaps I'd already wished them a good morning. Perhaps I'd done the same with others.

It was almost comforting, in a way, to see such a visceral and grotesque representation of myself, flayed open snd hollowed out and left to rot. It reminded me there were others like me, even if they were roadkilled deer. In the aftermath of catastrophe, I, too, lay broken and gasping, immobile as I watched the world pass me by, no one stopping to notice my agony. I supposed it wasn't quite as obvious as that of a deer, trembling and bleeding from the mouth, branded hot in the shape of a car's front grill. It was confusing, still. It certainly felt more than obvious.

I dreamed of coyote teeth tearing me apart, pulling out my organs as I watched, passive, of vultures picking at my skin, grunting in veneration as they ate me to the bone. I dreamed of crows eating the scraps left behind, pecking at my face and mouth, pulling out my eyes and tongue, rendering me blind and mute. I didn't mind; I hardly had use for them anyways. I dreamed of dandelion blooms crowding my airways, airborne seeds filling my lungs until I choked, and growing from my body again.

I dreamed of love, of prostration and black birds bowed in supplication, owing me their lives, surviving at the price of mine. I dreamed of love, of sickly sweet devotion, like the smell of decay. I dreamed of love, of poisonous butterflies drinking down the nectar of my body's wildflowers, of dangerous beauty. In my dream, I watched the jays snap up those sweet butterflies, bright wings crunching and shredding within the predator's beak, only for the eaten nymph to reappear as its bitter poison burns the jay's oesophagus, vomiting up the offensive prey. The butterfly is not saved. The butterfly is still dead, half-digested and broken in a small puddle of the bird's mucous, but the jay learns; the butterfly's death prevents others.

I dreamed of love, like the coyote and the badger that found my corpse one night, forty million years of evolution between the two, but perfect teamwork nonetheless. The two arrived together and left together after they'd had their fill of my lungs and heart. I wished them well on their journey and waited for the next scavenger to find me.

I hoped the deer on the side of the road found the same peace in death as I had. I hoped she found her closure in the scavengers who worshipped her. I hoped the faceless figure in that nondescript truck faced their retribution and I hoped the faceless figure in my hazy memories faced the Old Testament judgement I so wished.

As I accepted the deer into myself, let the shape of her rotting body brand itself on my mind (reminiscent, almost, of the brand of a car's front grill on her flank), I felt her dreams assimilate with my own. I felt, suddenly, the desire to walk along country highways in the dark, the desire to know what waits on the other side of the road, the desperation so strong that I couldn't stand to wait for the rumbling beast to pass. I felt the awe of staring into blinding light, larger than me and near incomprehensible. I understood why deer stopped in the middle of the road. I'm sure anyone else would, too. The first contact of the car's front grill to her (my) body felt something like love, like the embrace of the only one who could stand to have me.

I thought about the crows that picked off the smaller pieces of flesh missed by the larger scavengers. I thought about the sweet adoration between two black birds as they passed my eyeball to their mate, the pure devotion between them as they preened one another, beaks coated in congealed blood. Their love is a living thing, a separate entity, powerful and writhing. It occupies the crows entirely, not unlike parasitism. Their chicks will grow from my scavenged flesh, insatiable, fledging for the first time above my drying skeleton. To fly had always been a dream of mine, and now it is actualized by those young black birds, fulfilled as they hop unsteadily from branch to branch, their parents watching over them protectively. How lucky I am to witness this. How lucky I am to learn, firsthand, the depth of that love, the endlessness of life, how it begins again, and again, and again.

#this is one of my favourite things ive ever written tbh.#made it for an english assignment. sarah if youre checking for plagiarism and it matches with this. this is my account you can ask me if you #want to. love u sarah.#anyways. hi everyone #rambles #my art #ask to tag

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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Philosophers, ranked by how down I would be to physically fight them:

Diogenes - absolutely fucking no. First of all he's filthy, second of all he won't just fight dirty, he bites.

Plato - would crack my skull like an eggshell, but at least respects the whole "no biting or eye gouging" -rule

Sun Tzu - not only would he deck me, but would roast me for lack of forethought and proper plan while doing so

Epictitus - I wouldn't beat a man with a cane, but I also won't risk that the man would beat me with a cane

Nietzsche - no idea what I'd have to do to piss him off enough to physically fight me, but pretty sure he'd kill me with his bare hands

Thomas Aquinas - would throw the first punch for the offense of me listing him as a philosopher

Marcus Aurelius - I have no personal beef with him, but if I had to, at least I could trust that he'd fight fair

René Descartes - first one I'm confident about winning. One of us has survived more than a year of waking up at 5 AM in the heart of Nordic winters and it wasn't him

Confucius - fuck this guy and his filial piety, my father was not a man worth respecting and neither is anyone saying so

John Calvin - square up, thot

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soapybutt17 · 7 months

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Scary Dog Privilege

Summary: Known as not only the little sister of Colonel Alejandro Vargas and the wife of Sergeant Major Rudy Parra, you were more famous for the fact that you were more feared for your bite than your bark unlike the two boys. Characters: Rudy Parra x Wife!Reader. Alejandro Vargas Word Count: 2,441 Chapter Warnings: Profanities. Big Scary Dog Privilege. Mentions of Violence.

for @glitterypirateduck's Fall4Rudy Challenge Prompt: "Behave"

Masterlist | Request are Open

“Behave you two.”

It was one thing to help Alex and Farah with an upcoming mission, and it was another to realize that the bastard that caused such a mess in Las Almas’ base to be alive and well who also just so happens to still be alive after everyone thought him to be dead. You had accepted that both your brother and your husband would be annoyed by the fact, but their blood was boiling further when they had realized that one Philipp Graves would also be in attendance, returning to the base that he had once tried to overthrow.

“He does anything stupid, I’ll be the first one to blow his head off.” Your husband muttered under his breath but you had heard just as much as your brother.

“Get in line, I got first dibs on the bastard.” Alejandro quipped right back, never once did he try to hide the displeasure of the news of the man’s apparent arrival in a few minutes.

“Behave.” You raised your voice, earning a silence from the two, and the more than evident appreciation from everyone in the team that had been walking on eggshells since the new of Grave’s living state. Alejandro was beside himself and your husband was not much of a help as much as you wanted him to be in placating Alejandro’s temper.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Both had muttered but your attention was glued right back to the helicopter that had just landed and had housed the very man responsible for the two’s foul mood.

“I don’t want to hear anything from either of you from now on. We already have mess with need to deal with, I don’t want this to turn into a bloody massacre if it doesn’t need to be.”

Eventually, the helicopter door had opened and the sight of Commander Farah Karim and Lieutenant Alex Keller had brought a smile on your face. It was only natural to give them a welcoming entrance to Las Almas as you couldn’t depend on the two scary menace of men behind you to do to it.

“I hope your flight here was well.” You began, shaking the pair’s hand before your eyes turned behind them and narrowed at the sight of an all too familiar man that brought all the bad memories back into the surface. “Commander Grave, it’s nice to see you again.”

��No need for the fake pleasantries, Lieutenant.” The man brushed off, a sick smirk playing on his lips. “After all, the last time I was here wasn’t much of a good experience for any of you.”

Just like that, Alejandro was at it again. Spewing curse upon curse at the man in Spanish with Rudy holding him back. You had to rub your temple in annoyance, you had given both Farah and Alex an apologetic look to which both had sympathized over. They both understood the history the man had in Las Almas, but they had no other choice and Graves was the only person fit for the job—as much as you all hated it.

“Behave!” You screamed and two had finally halted and apologized to you and to your two guest.

“Keep your dogs in line, and we will not have much of a problem, Lieutenant.”

Something ticked at the statement and you found yourself pulling your gun out and pointing it towards Graves. You ignored the protest from everyone as you approached the bastard and digging the gun right through his chest, unafraid to pull the trigger if he says anything else.

“Keep that fucking mouth of your shut, Graves.” You spat. “You don’t need to worry about my husband or my brother, cause the moment I find out you’re fucking with us all over again, I’ll be the one to put a bullet through your skull.”

Put the fear of God in the man’s eyes you slowly backed away, immediately, being pushed behind your husband that now becoming calmer and ready to continue on with the discussion that was bound to happen between all six of you.

“Behave, Amor.” Rudy whispered turning behind to look at you with irony.

It seems the Vargas temper was still running strong through your veins. With a deep breath, you finally put your gun back to the holster and waited for the man to say anything else that would give you the privilege to shoot him point blank.

You said nothing now, allowing your brother to pull his head up on his ass and initiate in taking the three visitors into the heart of the base. He had also made sure to make Graves well aware of the fixes they had all done after the damage he had made to the base during the takeover.

You were left with your husband who now had his arm around your shoulder.

“So much for making the two of us behave.” He teased.

“No one calls my boys dogs.” You muttered, after everything you had all been through to make Las Almas safe again from the Cartel, you would kill anyone that would think of anyone as mere dogs. “I’ll kill anyone that hurts you or my brother without hesitation.”

“Cálmate, mi amor.” He chuckled, now pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist as you took his scent in. “You mean the world to us and we will do anything and everything to keep you safe, not the other way around.”

“You and Alejandro will hesitate, but I fucking won’t. If that gringo had tried to say anything else I would shoot and ask questions later.” You muttered, chin resting on his sternum, you looked into his eyes, even in the seriousness of your tone, the smile was all too plastered on his handsome face. “I will not hesitate you know. I could still do that right now.”

As you made a plan to step away from his hold, he held you tighter.

“No need for bloodshed just yet. When this mission is over and things get out of hand again because of him, I’ll let you skip the line and shot him first.”

You grinned satisfied with your husband’s compromise.

“This is why I love you.”

“This is why I’m sometimes scared of you.” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Mi Amor. Let’s get back inside and see what Alejandro is up to.”

“Small but terrible that sister of yours.” Grave believed that he still had the right for small talk as all four of them had walked the corridors.

“I’d be more worried about her than any of us, Gringo. She’s like a rabid dog to people like you.”

“What was that, Colonel?”

Graves had watched the Colonel tense at the sound of your voice. Even he was worried as he turned to have a look at you, the all too demented grin on your lips, waiting for him to fuck up. But even more dangerous was the unfazed smile on Rudy’s face as he had his arm around your shoulder—a metaphorical leash to keep you at bay.

Why the fuck was he back here in Las Almas of all places again?

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luveline · 11 months

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If you’re taking requests can I request a Drabble on kbd au or zombie au? Nothing specific I’d read anything you wrote about either!!

for you my love, ty for requesting <3 steve zombie au! you and Steve get back to basics and go on a duo supply run together, and afterwards he’s tired in more way than one </3 fem!reader, 3k. TW for zombie apocalypse typical violence and gore

Steve caves the geek’s skull in with one well-timed thwack.

You don't cheer, this is grim work, but you smile at him as he rubs the wet spray of blood from his shaven cheek. Things are finally getting better —you found a bunch of necessities at a mom and pop soap store a few days ago, so Steve has been able to clean up, and you've managed to wash the ten layers of grease from your face. You feel good.

"Good job," you say, speaking in a hush.

Steve hasn't been very happy lately, and you don't like making it worse. Which isn't to say you're on eggshells or anything, but keeping a low profile ensures better chances of survival, and better chances of survival cheer him up.

He smiles back, and it's a total victory. The happiest he's looked in days, Steve wipes his baseball bat against the side of a vinyl seat with a pleased air about him. Best zombie killer ever.

You've shouldered your way into a traditional American diner. The interior is basically untouched, which is extremely exciting, as the prospects of finding food and batteries is high. The floor is thick tile, the tables between booths solid pine. It's an expensive looking establishment. The padlock on the front and back doors makes more sense now.

"Am I staying here?" you ask.

Steve squeezes your hand very gently. They're still tender from your infamous crawl across broken glass, and he can't stand hurting you.

"You're coming with me. Back to back, don't speak, we'll clear the room and open the kitchen door," he says quietly.

The kitchen door, which is ominously closed behind the serving counter.

You nod and give him a sticky sweet smile, hoping it says how much you like him. Love him. He looks around the diner quickly and then leans in to kiss your cheek. He doesn't believe in affection on the road because it distracts the both of you. False sense of security.

"Ready?" he asks.

You turn on the spot with your back to him. You'd think it was overkill to be so cautious if you hadn't done it a hundred times before, admittedly a long time ago, barely knowing one another as you scrounged from state to state. His shoulders are broad and solid against yours, and you trust him not to let you get hurt as you walk backwards into the room. He checks under every table and behind each of the rooms wrap around corners.

"Good?" you ask.

"Perfect. Alright, you can sit down if you want to."

"Are you joking?" you ask, following him to the counter. He pulls up the hinged counter and holds it up for you to sidle past him, your hips rubbing. "'Scuse me."

He laughs under his breath. You'd miss it if you didn't know how it sounds, a gentle puff of air.

"Knife?" he asks.

"Yep."

Steve kicks the door open with his foot. It's on a swivel, and he has to hold it open, bat extended, ready for a danger that doesn't present itself. He hits his bat against the door a few times to see if the noise will attract anything, but the building is officially empty of geeks.

Then, proof that it's your Steve, boyfriend Steve, the Steve who's kissed tears off of your cheeks, Steve who whispers gossip under the covers like you're teenagers at a slumber party, he turns from the swinging kitchen door and grabs you by the waist.

"Good work, team," he says, hugging you so hard your heels lift off of the tiled floor.

You let yourself squeak. "Hoh, you're getting strong again, H, might wanna lay off of the canned ravioli."

"No, I need to be tough to keep all the bachelors off of my girl."

Bachelors is the name he's started giving to geeks, on account of the tuxedo wearing one you encountered a few days ago. "What's that eligible bachelor doing?" he'd asked. You'd laughed loudly (potentially giving away your location to unfriendlies) and he'd been moody for an hour afterwards, though he did tell you, "Sorry, it's my bad for making a joke, I'm not mad at you."

He's like two people, sometimes. The Steve who got comfortable at The College, carefree and sweet, and the Steve who had to look after the two of you for months all by himself. And that's not fair to you to state it like that, you definitely weren't helpless, but you didn't have the survival skills he did. He could fight, for one, and he knew how to use a map, he had better stamina from years of sports and competitive track and swimming, while you were a slightly slovenly creature who'd never hurt anyone. You had no idea how to cave in a skull, and what's more, you didn't have the will.

He can't decide whether he needs to be on full alert or not.

It's hard to know what to say to him. He needs a life worth living, one where he isn't constantly anxious, but he won't have any life at all if he lets it too loose. You just want him to be happy.

"Steve?"

"What?"

"Did you have a favourite song?"

He's surprised. "Like, before?"

"Yeah." You step out of his space. He turns his head to keep eye contact with you but walks into the kitchen, bat still in front of him so he'll feel it if he's approached. "You liked Wham, right?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"You look like you liked Wham."

"Well, I didn't. I liked Blondie, and Bob Dylan, and Fleetwood Mac–"

"I thought you hate Blondie?" you ask.

"Who told you that, Robin?"

"Who else?"

The kitchen is dimly lit, not a whole lot of sunlight filtering through. You scrounge in your pockets for your tiny hand-pump flashlight and start squeezing it. The sound goes through Steve, but he likes being able to see. You point the light, he opens cabinet doors. The first is empty, weirdly. The second is full of plates, the third more plates, the fourth cups and a spider big enough to make you both flinch.

"I kind of liked Wham," he admits eventually. "That Wake Me Up song was catchy."

"Yeah?" You hum the first line, not quite singing. "Does anyone know the words after that?"

"Nope. Just do that bit again."

You do as he asks. He grins at you, and it feels like a prize.

The cabinets reveal nothing edible.

"Is there a pantry?" you ask, turning in a circle.

"If there is, you won't be going in there," he says.

One time he told you to look inside a walk-in freezer and you almost died. Disaster.

"That's fine by me," you say, running your finger across the top of an old sterling grill. There's grease stains in circles, like somebody could've made a burger on it yesterday. Artefacts of the past.

"Here," Steve says, kicking the bottom of a second door. "Pantry." He knocks against it with the baseball bat a few times and you both wait for something to stir.

Miraculously, nothing does.

He tries to pull it open but you're distracted, he has something in his hair. You lean up on your toes and turn his head down.

"What are you doing?"

"You have a leaf in your hair." You rake the leaf out of his hair.

It's like the fluff of downy feather, soft from a good scrub last night. Shampoo hardly ever spoils, and you can find it everywhere, in every house and every store. You get distracted, leaf discarded, and comb your fingers through his hair. It's mostly a selfish action, but you hope he feels loved.

"I know you got it out by now."

"It's soft…" You stroke his hair back out of his face. "Okay, done."

"Thanks," he says gently.

Steve guides you back with an arm and pulls open the pantry door. A bad smell comes with it, not the stink of festering garbage but the smell after, when every bit of freshness has been eaten. It's like methane. You frown and peer over Steve's shoulder at the state of the room. The majority of perishables are perished, boxes of what must've been lettuce and tomatoes crushed and dried like they'd been soggy at one point, a brown stain over the bottom. There are dead flies on every shelf.

But after some searching, you and Steve find what you'd been hoping to find; powdered eggs, canned corn, canned artichoke, condensed milk, a treasure of ingredients. It's enough to keep you both fed for a while, but when you take it back to the makeshift camp where you're staying it'll be split up between more than forty people —you and Steve have bought the camp a day.

You're happy to have found the food you needed but the situation still feels of questionable stability.

Steve heads back to the front of the diner for the wheelbarrow you'd brought along. This is the sticky part, because the world isn't as uninhabited as it looks, and the trek home will be one you spend weaving behind buildings and into alleyways, out of sight from the many tall buildings of the city you've encroached upon.

You load the cans into the wheelbarrow and look for can openers, knives, and batteries. You find the can openers and knives easily, but the battery front is lacklustre. You suppose there's no use for anything battery powered in a restaurant like this.

"This wouldn't be such a bad place to stay if the windows were so big. We could sleep on the booth seats, maybe trick the generator out back and turn on the grill."

Steve wipes his forehead and stations the wheelbarrow at the front entrance. "If the gas line worked. Why, what do you want grilled?"

"We could have grilled catfish," you suggest.

"Where are you gonna catch a catfish?"

"In the river."

"The only thing in that river is frogs and carp, babe."

"You don't mind carp."

"But you don't like frogs," he says, "stupid river." Steve looks back at the wheelbarrow of cans. "Alright, pick one."

"Steve, I can't."

"Yeah, you can. We risked our lives coming out here, so you get to choose something, and you get to eat it." Steve tries to sound light and unbothered by it, but the guilt that plagues you at the idea of eating something without sharing infects him too, even if he tries to bite it back. "Please. Everyone else doing these runs does the same thing, and Joyce knows that."

"But you don't want to," you say.

"I want you fed."

"And I want you to be able to live with yourself. I do think we deserve it," you admit. "Especially you. But I know you feel bad, thinking about the kids. We're sharers, Steve."

"We're sharers," he agrees, giving the wheelbarrow a nudge with his knee. "Too bad. I could eat that condensed milk with a spoon."

"Me too."

It doesn't take long to get back to the camp. It's stressful but uneventful, and soon you can hear the hushed whispering of the kids old enough to know they need to be quiet and the louder bells of kids too little to get it.

Robin bounds up from the ring around the smouldering fire and hugs you, then Steve. Jeremy, co-leader of the old community and second in command of the new, immediately delegates someone to note down what you've found and start rationing the evening meal.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks Robin, hands on her shoulders. He ignores the Well done thrown his way.

"I'm fine. You guys good?" she asks, scanning your two bodies.

You move from foot to foot on the packed earth and stone beneath. You're sore all over, and walking makes you tired. "We're perfect. I'm gonna go lie down."

"We'll come with you," Robin says.

Steve quickly seconds her suggestion. You move through the pitched tents until you come across the one shared by the three of you. On the floor is the only thing you had left, a single blanket you'd found in the woodland surrounding The College. It's rumpled and dirty, because your tent isn't a tent but a tarp on stilts, and the floor is grass and earth.

You duck your head and sit in the corner, pulling your shoes off of your hot feet and massaging your hurting toes. Your shoes don't fit. They're not really your shoes.

Steve comes in second and Robin third. There isn't enough room for all of you but you've made it work every night since you got here.

Steve grabs one of your ankles and pulls you with force toward him. You laugh weirdly —it's a great laugh, stuck in your throat, happy that he's touching you and exhausted from a long day— and end up flat on your back in your coat and stiff jeans. Steve takes off his coat and jacket, balling the jacket up into a vaguely pillow shaped blob to put under your head.

You grab his hand and squeeze it in a silent thank you.

Robin lies down beside you. She puts her head on your arm.

"I want to come next time," she says.

"Okay."

"I don't like being here without you guys."

"Okay, then you'll come," Steve says. "Did something happen?"

"It's just not worth it, even if I'm tired, you guys being gone is exhausting 'cos I'm constantly worrying you've–" She shrugs. "It wasn't as scary when you had guns and an entourage, but now the only thing between you guys and me never seeing you again is a baseball bat."

"A metal baseball bat."

"Whatever."

"You should come just so you see how not dangerous it is," you say.

"That's not true," Steve says.

"Was he being overprotective?" Robin asks you.

"Yes. He yelled at me for coughing at the top of the hill and he got all broody when we couldn't cut the padlock off with the bolt cutters for like, half an hour."

Steve pushes your pant leg up and starts to massage your calf. There's nothing but love in his touch, and you take it as an apology for his moody behaviour, even though it doesn't have to be one. He shouldn't say sorry for responding to insane pressure with unhappy emotions. He should, however, keep massaging you. It feels nice.

"Did he actually yell?" Robin asks, laughing.

"I'm still here," Steve reminds you both.

"Nah, just said, 'cover your mouth, dummy, these trees are full of geeks,'" you tell her.

"Did you really say that? The trees are full of geeks?" Robin asks, giggling still.

You laugh with her. Steve gets a funny look on his face, happy and sad for a split second. It disappears, and you know from the slope of his brows that he's going to make a bad joke.

"I didn't. I said the trees were full of bachelors," Steve says. "And that if they heard her pretty, dainty coughing they'd steal her away from me. She'd be a zombie bride."

"Can a cough be dainty?" Robin asks.

"You tell me," Steve says. "It sounded like this." He hacks like an old man, hunched over your feet in his lap.

You and Robin both boo.

"You don't think I have a nice cough?" he asks. "Come on."

Robin hides her face in your arm. "I've been away from society for so long that I'm starting to find his half-assed jokes funny."

You wiggle your feet in his lap.

"You wish you had my sense of humour," Steve says.

"Oh, hey, guess what Steve was singing for me earlier," you butt in. "Wham."

"Really?"

"Spirit of George Michael fell through him."

Steve really laughs at that one, clutching your leg to his chest. You smile, startled at his reaction, more when he pushes his hand under your knee and says, "Hey, are you saying I can't sing?"

"I'm sure I caught you on a bad day," you comfort.

He laughs more —Steve laughs so hard you think he might cry. It can't be that funny, you know you're not a comedian and never have been.

Robin picks up on it too.

He's had a long day, a longer week, and he's taut as a string pulled from one pole of the earth to the other. You sit up despite your protesting back and sling your arm around his shoulders. His laughing calms, and he goes deathly quiet.

"You wanna get some rest?" you murmur.

He closes his eyes. "Yeah."

Robin shuffles up. The three of you lie there for a while, and eventually he falls asleep. You and Robin chat in whispers until she ends up sleeping too. Without the distractions of TV and the radio, you can't blame them.

You turn away from Robin to stare at Steve as he sleeps, your hand stroking his forehead and his silky soft hairline.

When he wakes up later, he's feeling better. Things aren’t totally fixed, but he’s well enough to scold you for letting him sleep through the dinner bell.

"You didn't eat dinner?" he asks, somehow croaky and stern at the same time. "What's wrong with you? Get up, honey, we'll find you something to eat. Buckley, are you hungry? You girls will be the death of me, I swear."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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marigoldsandbuttercups · 6 months

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maybe s/o seems quiet, calm and even shy at times, but it turns out that they used to work as a stripper and they were super famous and made a lot of money. s/o stopped because they were afraid that because of their non-standard work, the skellies would want to leave s/o. For Ut, Us and Uf.

love your blog☺️

Woah That's A Cool Job, Bro

(Why thank ya, friend. I really appreciate that 💖)

Sans: "huh," he starts out, and doesn't really elaborate much on it. You can hear him chuckle as he watches you try to figure out just what he meant by that. And as much as he would like to admire the way your face looks as you think, he knows this is a serious topic. He takes your hand, touch as gentle as the wind itself before pulling you just a little closer to him.

What? Can't a guy have a nice cuddle whilst talking about his relationship?

It's easy for him to disarm you, to have you relax because he really doesn't want you to feel like you're walking on eggshells around him. He looks calm as ever as you explain but you know better, from the way his touches linger on you and how his eyelights never stray from you. When it's his turn to speak, Sans isn't really much for words, but he makes it known that he's always rooting for you. Once he's in love, he's all in, and he will always show that, one way or another.

Papyrus: Not offended in the least bit. If anything, he would have a deep fascination with your job and how you work. He's into it, the flair, the dramatics, the legs! He thinks it's Very Cool™. Papyrus isn't one to really judge people by their personality, especially when he's had experience of people doing the same to him. Sure, he'd be surprised but it's more so good surprise because... He wants to know more about you, after all.

He'd also be surprised when you express your fear to him, understanding that the way humans and monsters view certain things differently is very much at play here. Papyrus also doesn't care how long you've been together, if it's something you wanna do, he's ready to support you and you will never experience any judgement from him. (Your workouts are gonna be super fun btw, he had Plans™)

Blue: After you tell him, he kinda just... Goes quiet for a bit. It worries you, rightfully so as you find it hard to properly discern his expression. But he moves a step closer to you and holds your hands, first assuring you that you never have to be afraid to tell him anything. Blue would want to make it known as soon as possible that he will be by you no matter what, your safe space, your pillow to fall on.

But he also assures you that he trusts you, anything you want to do is for you to choose but he will support it so long as you're safe and happy. That's all that really matters to him in the end since, well, it's one of the reasons he fell for you anyway, the fact that it's you. (Also would probably point out the pretty outfits you have and if you'd model for him-)

Stretch: Definitely do not tell him while he's eating or drinking because he will choke. He would then panic and say he didn't choke because he was angry or anything like that, he was just... Very surprised. And he is! He just gets extremely flustered at the idea of you doing literally anything (boy is whipped I tell ya). It takes him a while to completely articulate his thoughts because he wants to tell you that's so cool but also wants to tell it's okay and that you're so awesome and-

There's a lot going through his mind, and you're sat there in dumbfounded silence as you watch the orange hue begin to cover his entire skull. But! He does eventually gather his thoughts and tells you that.. Hey, he thinks you're an amazing person and he's loved you far too long for anything like that to get in the way. He trusts you, and he hopes you trust him as much.

Red: "that's hot-" and he stops upon seeing your face and chuckles. He holds his hands up in defense before moving a little closer once you're a little more relaxed. He starts small, holding your hand before explaining what the culture is like from where he is. He's not the best with words, but Red does succeed in getting his message across, that being:

It is your life, you have the right to decide what you wanna do and what you don't wanna do. But whatever it is you choose to do, he's got your back, no matter how "out there" it is or whatever. You want it? You got it and Red will absolutely make sure that you can depend on him for supporting you. (still will tell you it's hot af tho)

Edge: You think he's judging you but really that's just his resting face. He's a little surprised by the fact that you're so... Unsure of telling him. He voices this concern, because to him, these kinds of things were rather normal in the underground. Whatever it was, as long as it was a means to survive. He takes this a little too seriously, not that it is a bad thing, but it can be rather daunting when he's staring you down as you're both seated on your couch.

And the whole thing kinda... Makes you laugh a little.

Perhaps from how nervous you are, from how overly invested Edge is, but.. it's.. Touching. He's rightfully confused, and huffs when he finds out why, feeling a little shy.(but you would never catch him admitting that lmao). The dramatics only last for a while before you gather your thoughts and explain and Edge is.. Very gentle about it. It's one of those moments that make you understand just why you fell for him, how he makes sure that you understand that he would never, ever judge you for that. He respects you, and he will respect the choices you make as long as you're okay.

#hueheu you can also support me by visiting my ko-fi teehee #LOLOL #undertale #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #underfell #underswap #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #uf sans x reader #uf papyrus x reader #underswap sans #us papyrus x reader #under swap papyrus x reader

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deliciousbasementtrash · 7 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You have to have lunch with your father. How will it go?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, angst, physical and emotional abuse, panic attack

Word Count: 2.4k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Masterlist

Part Seven: Lunch with a Devil

I was restless. It was only 10:30 and I had already restocked my entire responder inventory. I had already done my laundry, the dishes, mopped the floor, helped prepare dinner, and now I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor with a toothbrush. Whenever I stopped thoughts and anxiety filled my skull. I hadn’t decided if I was going to go to lunch. My father would be less than pleased if I didn’t go. But I was supposed to be free of that guilt. Free of him. So, why does it feel like every time he talks to me I’m that helpless little girl all over again? The one that walked on eggshells. The one who did everything she could to be a good daughter and not be a burden. The one that took the pain and the demands with a smile and a yes sir.

I’m not that girl anymore. At least… I thought I wasn’t. I scrubbed harder at an invisible speck of dust as the thoughts crowded my head.

“Miss y/l/n, I do believe every centimeter of this floor is spotless thanks to you. There is no need to further scrub.” Alfred said, standing above me. Slowly he bent down so that he was at eye level with me. He took the toothbrush out of my bandaged hand, shaking his head.

“Might I have a look?” He asked, nodding to my hands. In my anxious state, I hadn’t thought about the condition of them, or what I was putting them through. The second he grabbed them it was like my body remembered that I was in pain.

I stood up and nodded, giving him full view.

He patted the island chair, “Take a seat.” He slowly unbandaged them. They were red and swollen, some of the blisters had popped, and some had refilled. It wasn’t my cutest look.

Alfred diligently put on numbing cream and rebandaged them for me. We sat in comfortable silence as he did it. Both of us concentrated on what he was doing.

“May I ask a question about your gifts?” Alfred asked, gently.

Instantly, my body clammed up. I didn’t want to say anything, but I swallowed down that protective response and nodded.

“You can heal other people. Can you heal yourself?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “No, I can’t.” Suddenly I was bombarded by memories. Ones I try to keep down.

******************************************************************************************************************

Gotham City: 18 Years Ago

“Sit down, y/n,” my Dad said, patting the couch. I was hesitant as I walked over. I didn’t want to be close to him.

Slowly, I sat down. My body was tense, and I made sure my feet could sit touch the ground. I was not comfortable. I was ready to move. I was ready to run.

“Darling, have you heard of the Kleinian and Winnicottian psychotherapeutic theory?” My father asked, peering down at me like an owl.

I shook my head.

“Well, part of the theory believes that children think that they are an extension of their mother. Children have a difficult time in their infancy and toddler years defining what is their own body or their mothers. Does that make sense?” He asked, his voice falsely sweet. I knew that I should just play along. I didn’t understand, but I wanted Dad to be happy.

“I have a theory. If we can figure out how to make you heal yourself; you will learn how to heal your mother,” his words were frantic, his eyes bright. Some part of me wanted to run and hide. “Will you let me test my theory?” He asked.

Not knowing what else to do I just nodded. I wanted Mama to be better.

From his pocket, he pulls out a knife. My heart seizes at the sight of it. Quickly, so quickly, he trailed a cut along my thigh. Tears welled up in my eyes. It stung so badly. I didn’t like it. And the blood was getting on my favorite shoes. I frowned as I saw my blood run down my legs and stain them.

“Heal yourself.”

I tried. I really tried. But I couldn’t. My powers wouldn’t listen no matter how much I begged. Dad never liked that for an answer though.

So he cut.

And burned.

And stabbed.

Over and over. For years.

I never quite got it right. But that never stopped him from trying.

******************************************************************************************************************

I blinked away the memories that threatened to drown me. I don’t know if Alfred noticed the distant look in my eyes, but he quickly changed the topic.

“You have barely said a word all morning,” Alfred said, making an observation.

I knew this tactic. We used it in nursing. You state the obvious in hopes that the person elaborate and clarify if there is a reason.

“I’m not feeling very social today,” is what I landed on saying. I didn’t want to reveal too much to him. It was almost like he could read me like a book though.

“Why?” He asked, simply.

He looked at me with his wise empathetic Alfred eyes. All of a sudden I wanted to crumble. I wanted to tell him everything that went wrong in my life starting with day one. But that was irrational. That was that scared little girl with the bloody sneakers that broke free from time to time.

I cleared my throat and flattened my face of emotion, “I’m seeing my father today. Well… I actually have not decided if I’m going to go or not.”

Alfred gently patted my hands, signifying that he was done, they did feel a lot better. I mumbled a soft thank you, he nodded as if it was nothing.

“Your father, is he a good man?” I saw the cogs in Alfred’s head turning, deciding that this was the best question to ask.

“No. I wouldn’t say he is. But honestly, I don’t know if I have a definition of ‘good’ anymore.” My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be.

“I see. Miss, may I speak candidly?” Alfred asked, picking up a spoon and polishing it.

I swallowed, “You may.”

“It appears to me like you are dreading this lunch with your father. What service are you doing yourself if you go?”

I blink, trying to gather my thoughts. “If I also am speaking candidly, the service I would be doing for myself would be protecting myself.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, “In what way?”

I shook my head. I revealed too much. “Protecting myself from a positively boring time! I mean the man doesn’t even like Skip-Bo! Can you imagine, Alfred?”

“A truly horrific man I see.” His voice had a strange edge to it. One that I was unfamiliar with.

I laughed and muttered so quietly under my breath that he couldn’t hear, “Truly a horrific man.”

We didn’t say anything to each other after that. I politely excused myself and got ready for my hellish lunch plans.

******************************************************************************************************************

I arrived at lunch at exactly 12:30. Usually I was a meticulously early person, but this small action was a quiet rebellion.

My heart sank when I saw the back of my father. His leg bounced. He was annoyed. Wonderful.

“I would think that for your mother’s memory, you at least try to be more punctual.” He said, already snipping at me.

“Mkay.” I purposely dismissed him. A new fire lit beneath me. Suddenly I didn’t care about his petty little comments or his opinion at all.

I saw as he sat across from me; he was fully assessing me. Taking in every detail.

“Why are your hands bandaged?” He asked.

“Work accident.”

His eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me. It didn’t really matter. I wasn’t technically lying.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” The question caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Guilty?” I asked, clearly confused.

“That you could never figure out how to heal her.” He said the words as if they were special blows to my body.

“Yes of course I do,” I said.

“You don’t visit her grave. You don’t call. You don’t text. It’s like you never wanted to be a part of our family in the first place. Your mother would want us to be on good terms.”

I took a long breath in through my nose and roughly exhaled. “Do you want something? That’s usually when you try to use her to manipulate me.”

“Manipulate you! This is coming from the girl who would cry for my wife every time I tried to discipline her. You’re the manipulative ungrateful brat!”

I got up quickly. Leaving behind more cash than both our bills and tips combined. “Every time I give you a chance you show me who you are. I keep thinking there is more to you or that you will change. Well, newsflash, you’re not going to. I don’t need you in my life. I don’t want you in my life.”

Alongside the cash, I slapped down a court-ordered restraining order.

“Good riddance.”

I practically ran out of the restaurant. I didn’t wait to see his reaction. I quickly got into my car and drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes. Breathing became difficult. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know if he had men trailing me or not.

I tried my best to keep it together as I drove back to Wayne Manor. I kept it together as I walked in the door. I kept it together walking up the stairs. I kept it together as I shut my door behind me. But after that? I crumpled in on myself.

I sobbed until no tears came out and my chest hurt. I choked on the air, not being able to get enough. My mind couldn’t catch up with my body. I couldn’t get enough air in. It felt like my throat was closing. My fingers went cold and numb. Logically I knew I was having a panic attack. But I couldn’t calm myself down. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. My clothes became too tight. Helpless I started trying to take them off but I couldn’t they wouldn’t come off they were stuck to my body they would be there forever itching my skin until I couldn’t breathe and I died on the floor forever and ever and ever—

Strong hands gripped my face, “Breathe! Y/n breathe in! Like this,” Jason was laying on the floor with me, one hand on my chest the other on my face. He motioned inhaling in for five seconds and out for seven. In for five. Out for seven. The panic slightly eased but I still was trying to claw off my shirt. Once again I felt restricted and trapped. My breathing increased again. Jason grabbed both my hands with one of his and with his other hand he tore my shirt open.

Instantly I felt like I could breathe.

“That’s it. In and out. In and out. In and out,” he kept demonstrating for me until I had been steadily breathing for a few minutes. He just stayed with me for a while breathing with me. Our chests rose and fell together. I felt the warmth of his exhale against my cheek. It felt safe in that moment. Safer than I’ve felt for a long time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, his voice small. Smaller than I thought possible.

Some part of me did but I didn’t think I was ready to reveal all of it yet. “I gave my dad a restraining order today.” I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that rose in me. Soon I was snorting I was laughing so hard. “God, my life is such a joke!”

I felt Jason stiffen. He was surprised by this. Almost angry by this news. “Why? What shit did he do?”

I shook my head my laughter dying down. “Can we talk about something else right now? Please?”

Jason’s eyes darkened like he was remembering that piece of information for later. “I’m sorry for being a jackass last night. I get these nightmares and I get so confused and very hostile. I should have warned you not to try and help me.”

I shook my head, “It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have tried to help you anyway.”

Jason gave me a pained look and gently ran his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Why are you so nice? Why are you so good?”

“Do you have a definition for good?” I asked, my voice suddenly husky, realizing how close we are and responding to his touch.

“No. I just think of you,” he said, almost a whisper.

I felt my cheeks heat, “Thank you for thinking that. I just don’t— you don’t know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve helped. It’s all gray, Jason. I promise if you find out more about me you won’t like it.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

As if waking up from a trance Jason shot up. He tossed me a blanket, covering my exposed chest. He cleared his throat.

“So, we are even now. You barged in on me. I barged in on you. Even Steven, all set, no worries. Goodbye.”

Stunned into silence I watched as Jason left. What the fuck just happened?

******************************************************************************************************************

Jason was just getting to leave when he heard it. The worst sound he had ever heard in his life. The sounds of whimpering and choking sobs came from y/n’s room. Without another thought, he ran into her room. He found her lying on the floor, gasping for breath, and clawing at her own skin. He had to comfort her. He had to help. So he soothed the ways he had been soothed before. He stayed with her. He helped her in the ways he knew he could. But as if snapping back to reality, his promise to himself to stay away set in.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! The plan was to stay away from her not be her knight in shining armor! God, why the fuck can’t I stay away? I couldn’t stand hearing her cry or struggling to breathe. It was like something in me cracked open. I had no choice but to help her. Jason thought.

He threw on the red hood and stormed out of the house needing to regroup and blow off some steam. Maybe he would look into her father. But no that had to do with her. That’s off limits! Off limits, Todd! Off fucking limits! God, he needed to hit something.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno@killxz@morpheus-girl@redhood414@bungunz@conicoroahre@greenyofthegreens@taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005

Hashbrown Cam!

Please let me know what you guys think! I love reading the comments <3

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fave-fight · 9 months

Text

ROUND 2, MATCH 28

NO MAGIC, POWERS, WEAPONS, OR ADDITIONAL HELP FROM OTHERS

Plato:

“He was a jock nerd who basically creates the floorboards of philosophy and also was a bit of an elitist shithead”

“I hate this man with all my being. He started an argument with having the other person assume something for the sake of argument, and then kept talking for so long that the other person really just wanted to leave. He should crash and burn and I will laugh.”

“There's a tumblr post floating around about how down op would be to fight philosophers, Plato was pretty low on the list: "Would crack my skull like an eggshell, but at least respects the whole "no biting or eye-gouging" -rule". Would he crack his opponents skull like an eggshell? Would he get his ass kicked? I would very much like to find out.”

Wheatley:

“My beloved ADHD orb :)”

“What's he gonna do without access to weapons? He's just a little ball. He's gonna get kicked around by the competition and it'll be hilarious.”

“Wheatley would get stepped on”

#fight fight fight #round 2 #tournament poll #poll tournament #polls #poll #plato #wheatley #portal 2

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nian-7 · 9 months

Note

HEYYYYY IT'S ME OF COURSE! Anywho, I assume you know who I'm gonna ask for, my lovely Husband<333 Jouno<333333 and Tachihara because he's the shared husband<333 anyway uhhh so can I request Tachihara and Jouno with a Reader that's like kinda oblivious and always misses things, like um comments and things just kinda fly over there head a lot, like me in every conversation we have ever had :D K, THANKKSSSS<33

HI EVE!! PLEASE ENJOY (get jouno OUT!!)

Jouno, Tachihara, Tecchou x gn!reader

✧oblivious reader

✧fluff

-Jouno is visibly annoyed when you look at him with a confused look when he tries to 'make a move'. He can't believe you're so oblivious even when he's basically just spelled it out for you!

-Genuinely, you remind him of Tecchou sometimes. He wouldn't be surprised if one day he found you eating eggshells with no reason behind it.

-Sometimes he just stands there as if you've said something absurd after. Like how can his bluntness with words still go flying right over your head as if he had spoken in some sort of code.

-Very annoyed with you sometimes. He'd like for it to get through your thick skull sometimes and he'll mention it to you if you're slow on the uptake when he is annoyed with you for being oblivious.

-Bear with him, he's trying to be nice. Key word, trying. He doesn't seem like he is 90% of the time because half the time when he tries to make some sort of move, it just will go over your head. There's no doubt in his mind that it will.

-Poor guy tries to flirt or make some sort of move on you but you just think he's being nice. He does have that delinquent-ish vibe to him so you just think he's trying to be nicer!

-He won't get mad or upset at you for being oblivious, he just gets a bit annoyed. He's made it as obvious as he can and you still aren't catching on!

-He likely would try to be straight up with you about things. Things that he could say without embarrassing himself that is. He wouldn't tell you straight up that he thought you looked cute or anything of the sorts. He'd like to keep that to himself for now.

-Visibly a little dejected when another one of his attempts go straight over your head. He thought he'd have it that time and yet again, you smiled and thanked him when the goal was to fluster you or even get you to realize what he was doing!

-Genuinely thinks you're messing with him after a while. How can someone be that oblivious? Not to say that he's going to give up trying but, he does consider the fact that he might just have to be blunt about it..

-Tecchou is just oblivious as you lets be honest. Things fly over both of your heads and it irritates Jouno to no end. Usually though, you both are very on par with each other when it comes to obliviousness.

-He likely was oblivious to his own feelings at first too. His protectiveness towards specifically you was just something he thought was because you both were close friends.

-I swear both of you would be so oblivious to each others small advances to the other while everyone else is watching you both with annoyance. The signs are right there and you both are completely missing them all.

-Every 'flirt' coming from Tecchou just ends up as a compliment. He'll tell you that you look nice today and you just simply think he's being polite. The poor guy has no clue how to flirt and you're just oblivious to his attempts.

-You both could be acting like a couple and hugging but the moment someone asks if you're together, instant denial. Both of your thought processes are literally that the other doesn't like you back as if the signs couldn't be anymore clear than they already are.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

#x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro #michizou tachihara x reader #michizou tachihara #michizou x reader #tachihara x reader #jouno saigiku #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader

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alkaline-wtr · 2 months

Text

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 2 - -

Ghost x reader Description: Reader and Ghost make there way towards the city in search of supplies. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader, angst, gore, violence, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death WC: 2.6k

My Masterlist

**I finally finished chapter two!! I am awful at starting stories I find it difficult to push passes the mundane slow set up portion of fics but, I think I hit a decent point here in this chapter where it started to flow together. It took me way longer than I wanted to finish this one. Hopefully, the length makes up for it and from here on it should get a bit more interesting. Enjoy. (started a tag list at the bottom)

<< PART ONE

You and Ghost make your way between houses looking for anything useful. So far you had found a few bottles of water and a bit of food. You secured yourself a pocket-knife but still have yet to find a suitable weapon.

You glance over your shoulders anxiously as Ghost pried a board out of the fence for you to cross through the next yard.

"Go on," he demands.

You don't even stop to think as you slip through the gap. Ghost following closely behind. You pause letting him get in front of you.

You continue through the backyard. A nice suburban area filled with an eerie silence.

Ghost scales the back wall of the house peering through the windows to check if it's clear.

You are lost in thought looking up at the tree house perched in the large oak in the corner of the yard.

Ghost works at opening the sliding glass door. He gets it open and glances your way. He clears his throat gaining your attention once again.

"If you're going to stick with me then keep your mind right."

He scolds. You give a small nod and follow him into the house. Ghost's gun is at the ready as he peers around each corner in a loose stance, ready for anything.

You stand back waiting for his okay like you had the many houses before. You couldn't help feeling like you were walking on eggshells with him.

Ghost re-emerges from the living room letting his gun fall to his side.

"Downstairs is clear. Raid the kitchen, I'll check upstairs."

You follow Ghost's orders heading straight into the kitchen. It is quiet as you search through the cupboards. There were just some plates, and cups in the first few above you so you decided to check the lower ones.

As you were crouched below the sink you heard a shuffling come from behind you.

You suspected it was just Ghost coming back down.

"Anything good?"

You ask still rummaging through a cabinet of cleaning supplies.

There was no answer.

A cold, wet, hand places itself on your shoulder. You turn, faced with the corpse of an old man. His bloodshot eyes and greying skin left your stomach in knots.

You let out a scream falling to the linoleum floor in panic, scrambling back away. You tried to grab the knife from your pocket but had no time before the man lunged forward his weight falling over you. You put your hands up defensively, pushing the man's shoulders back trying to keep him at least an arm's distance away from you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, his limp body squirming over you.

You let out a frustrated cry, using all of your strength to keep the corpse at bay.

Heavy footsteps bolt down the stairs, Ghost, having heard the struggle, comes quickly to your aid. His eyes were dark and focused. He pulls the mall up by the back of his tattered tee-shirt sinking the blade of his knife directly into the corpse's skull.

The old man falls lifeless to the floor. His body hit the ground with a thud.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to calm your panic. Ghost seems irritated.

"Were you Bit?"

He asks. His eyes search your body for any signs of harm. You shake your head.

Ghost seems skeptical about your response for a moment but quickly accepts it.

"This is exactly why I can't keep you around. You're clumsy and unfocused. It's a wonder that you've lasted this long."

The anger is evident in his voice. As harsh as it was Ghost was right, you weren't cut out for survival. You had no skills, no strength, no awareness.

In your mind, you look for an escape from this reality. Which sooner or later will get you killed. You need to learn to stay present and be prepared. Ghost could be the one to teach you that.

"That's why I need us to stick together."

You explain. Ghost shakes his head in pure annoyance.

"Please! I won't make it out here without you. I will do whatever takes, I can do better, I will find a way to be useful."

Ghost can hear the desperation in your plea. Ghost had always been the lone wolf type. Especially throughout these past months.

He shakes his head in frustration giving you no verbal response. Before all this, Ghost made a living saving people, sacrificing for the greater good. Things were different now, so why did he still care so much?

The both of you had continued in silence. Searching the remaining houses in the neighborhood.

You were upstairs in a master bedroom. The room was nice and put together, almost like the couple who occupied it had just gone off to work for the afternoon.

It was hard not to imagine those things. What had happened to the people in these houses that day? Who were they? What was their daily life like and what were they doing when the outbreak started?

You took a breath and made your way to the bedside table. The drawer opened with ease, everything inside the drawer was clean and untouched, unlike the rest of the room which was coated in a light layer of dirt.

You shuffle through the pile of papers, not finding anything useful. You shut the drawer and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a photo on the nightstand of a man and a woman on their wedding day, looking lovingly into each other's eyes.

Ghost comes into the room,

"I found you a pistol. The noise would draw too much attention so, you should only use it in necessary situations."

You don't respond to Ghost. He waits a few moments before coming around the bed.

"Y/n?"

His voice was soft. He seemed concerned, which was strange considering how unemotional Ghost had seemed.

"Please,"

The words are hardly audible. You turn to face him eyes glassy with tears.

"Don't leave me to die."

Your voice cracks on the last word and the flood of fear and sadness wash over you. You had been referring to an earlier conversation with Ghost.

He watches you with a sigh as you sniffle, feeling guilty but, Ghost kept his ground. He hadn't begun the outbreak alone, and he wasn't going to be responsible for anyone else's safety again.

"Y/n, we talked about this. Once we are past the city, I will help you get settled and be on my way. If I was leaving you to die, I'd have taken off by now."

Each word built up the annoyance inside him. He was tired of arguing with you about it and felt he was being fair in helping you for these few days. Ghost didn't appreciate how guilty you had been making him feel when he was trying to do the right thing by preparing you for survival.

You shake your head and stand up. Up until this point you'd kept quiet hoping you could change his mind by obeying but, it was clear now he had no intention of budging. Ghost had made up his mind and it was starting to piss you off.

"You're pretending like you're doing me a favor when in reality, you're only helping yourself!"

Ghost's jaw clenched under the mask.

"You only got this far because I helped you." He retorts, "I could have let those men back there shoot you! Is that what you prefer? Being dead on the road?"

You cross your arm over your chest and roll your eyes looking up to the ceiling like a teenager being scolded by a parent.

Ghost scoffs at the child-like attitude.

"I am giving you a chance to live. Nobody in this world owes you a goddamn thing, I know I sure as hell don't. So, if you feel like this is a waste of your time then get through the city yourself."

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

"W-what?"

Ghost eyes narrow.

"You heard me y/n. I'm done. I tried to be nice I tried to help you, and you have done nothing but be unappreciative. I was alone for a reason."

Ghost looks down at the pistol he had found, he clicks on the safety before tossing it on the bed beside you and turns to leave.

You watch in disbelief as he stomps out of the room and down the stairs.

The front door closed with a thud and panic ensued. You bolt to the bedroom window watching Ghost continue down the street.

Overwhelming fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you hadn't felt like this since the outbreak began.

You were quick to pack up your things and pull your backpack over your shoulders.

Although it was rather useless to you, not having any knowledge of how to use it, you grabbed the pistol carrying it in your sweaty hand.

By the time you were out of the house and crossing the front lawn Ghost had already disappeared out of the neighborhood.

Your eyes darted around. Keeping on high alert, you began to walk down the street. You swapped the gun in your hand for the knife in your pocket as you continued, hoping to catch up with Ghost.

The fear made the situation feel surreal, you didn't want this to be happening, and you couldn't be alone again.

You hoped and prayed to any possible higher power that Ghost would change his mind, that he'd come back and apologize.

The sun was getting ready to set as you reached the outskirts of the city. It was apparent to you that it must be late afternoon by now and you hardly had a clue where to go from here. Without Ghost and his map, survival skills, and ability to navigate, you were sure you'd be dead by dusk.

You looked around for signs, anything that could tell you where you were or give you any sort of direction.

It seemed you were across from a shopping center, which you knew from any movies you'd seen of these types of survival situations, was a death wish. Yet so was the city. On foot at least, you figured a better bet would be the freeway.

You kept walking until you reached a freeway on-ramp. At this point, you'd accepted that Ghost was gone. It was impossible for you the assume which way he'd gone, where he'd stopped, and even if you could have guessed correctly what were the chances he'd still be there?

The freeway was surprisingly empty and quiet as you'd made it to the end of the ramp.

As you continued, your mind wandered to Ghost and the argument you'd had. You started to wonder if Ghost was right. Had you been that ungrateful? Were you anything more than a burden to him?

It wasn't long until you reached the long lines of abandoned cars. The eerie silence sent a shiver down your spine, you started to weave your way through the cars silently.

The area seemed to be safe. You glanced through widows as you passed hoping to find anything useful.

Finally, you stopped next to a smaller, silver car. Through the back window, you could see a couple of grocery bags. The front window was cracked, and you were able to push it down low enough to open the back door.

You sat on the edge of the seat and leaned in to search the bags. You were disgusted to see the rotten fruit and moldy loaf of bread but were relieved to find a few nonperishable items as well. You gathered what you could and continued looking.

The sun was almost set, and you had made it a few miles along. The lanes were still packed with abandoned cars.

With the sky getting dark you were getting nervous. The night would soon consume you leaving you in complete debilitating darkness. You had survived this way before, walking along roads allowing them to take you wherever they happened to end. But that had been then, in the rural parts of your small hometown. Where dangers were sparse and easily escapable.

You had been checking cars here and there for supplies as you moved forward. You had hoped by now you would find, at least, a better flashlight than the small one Ghost had given you but had no such luck.

Finally, you'd come across a pickup truck. It looked as if it had belonged to a company of some sort. In the back was a large toolbox.

You climbed up and over the tail end and into the bed of the truck. The toolbox was large and mounted onto the back end of the cab.

You lifted to heavy wooden lid and searched it.

With the last bits of remaining sunlight, you were able to make out the shape of a large hammer. Not the best weapon, but still infinitely more useful than a small knife.

Keeping the hammer in hand you pocket the knife and climb back out of the truck.

With darkness overtaking the road you decided it would be best to keep to the edge rather than in between the cars.

Your pace had become slower as you tried to keep as quiet as possible.

As you came to another passenger side window you could see the glistening of a flashlight on the dashboard. Your eyes widened, pulling at the handle frantically.

The door was locked. You slipped the hammer into your belt and walked around to the driver's side door. To your surprise, the driver's door opened with ease.

Unfortunately, the car alarm began blaring. Your heart pounded in your chest. Panicking you reached across the center console and grabbed the heavy metal flashlight.

You turned it on and searched the floorboards with the dim yellow light. There were no keys anywhere to be found.

You heard distant groans and snarls. If there was anything around right now, they were surely going to come directly to you.

You pulled yourself away from the driver's seat and began to run. Weaving again through cars. The dim flashlight hardly leads you through the road without tripping and bumping into the askew vehicles.

A corpse reached out to you from the back window of a car as you passed. Startled, you lost your balance and fell to the ground.

It fought its way out falling through the window and landing on the pavement beside you.

You reach up with a shaky hand feeling for the door handle of the car beside you. You swing the door open and climb into the back seat.

The door slams leaving the corpse to grasp desperately at the metal door with its bony fingers. Your chest heaves with panic but your feeling of safety is short-lived when a weak hiss comes from the driver's seat.

A skeletal hand reaches back between the front seats. You crawl to the other side and slide out of the car trying to steady yourself on your feet.

With the flashlight gripped tightly in your hand and the car alarm still blaring behind you, you continue to run. The weight of your backpack is starting to hurt your shoulders, but you push through the pain.

You fall to your knees, back pressed to a car. Your mind raced but you needed a plan. Where could you go from here?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of gunshots ringing through the air. A part of you was grateful someone was here to help. The other part of you feared whoever it was and prayed that it was Ghost. Although, you knew that was unlikely.

The shots continued. You turned off the flashlight and kept crouched along the cars as you moved forward.

The shots ceased and moments later so did the alarm. You froze in place crouched against the hood of a van. Footsteps approached, the crunch of glass and gravel beneath a pair of heavy boots, getting closer and closer.

There was a snarling, then the squelching sound of a knife entering flesh.

"Shit!"

Exclaimed a man's voice. A body thudded to the pavement and the footsteps continued.

That voice wasn't Ghost.

A white light shines on the ground beside you and you know you'd been caught. Your breath was caught in your throat as a pair of boots stopped on the road beside you.

This was it.

Tag list

@itsthealice

#cod au #zombie apocalypse au #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod angst #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x female reader #cod x female reader #cw: gore #zombie au #ghost au #mw2 fanfic #cod mw3 #alkaline writes #☑️mstlst

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frenchfrywrites · 1 year

Text

Purr-egnancy mood swings

MINORS DNI

Warnings: top dom amab reader, trans man sub bottom pregnant Satan, pet play, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, piss, anal, dumbification, (nonverbal) subspace, little spit

Terms used for Satan: chest, tits, cunt, pussy, entrance, hole, asshole, vagina

Thank you to @arloheart for the commission!! and thank u for trusting me enough to let me have creative control over most of this <3

One second you’re peacefully holding Satan in your arms, cuddling him like you’ve been doing for the past couple hours while he reads. The next, he’s flinging his book halfway across the room, startling you with the loud crash that occurs from the action.

He’s huffing angrily, the tips of his ears red, gritting his teeth like the book committed an atrocity against him.

“Um… how’s the book?” you ask, regretting the question as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“Not. Good,” he spits out each word, coating them with a venomous tone. You bring your hands to his shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into his tense muscles.

Satan is the Avatar of Wrath, and his pregnancy has made him more moody than ever. He turns around in your lap straddling you to keep himself steady, being careful of his swollen belly, curling his fists into your shirt tightly. He looks close to tears with how upset he is.

He’s one trimester in, and has most of his family walking around on eggshells. It’s not something Satan takes delight in, but he truly cannot control the violent oscillations between his emotional states. You move your hands from his shoulders up to run your fingers through his hair.

“Let's think about something other than the book?” you propose when he is unable to calm down. “Or,” you tug softly at the hair on the back of his skull, making him look up at you, “maybe you shouldn’t think about anything at all, huh kitty?”

You watch in real time how the tension he’d been holding so tightly onto melts from his body. His pupils dilate with excitement, and a smile works its way across his face.

“Yes,” he sighs happily, his mood again swings, this time from angered to blissed out in record time. His legs clench around your waist, and he grinds himself against you.

“Do you want to dress up, kitten?” he nods, clenching his fists tighter into your shirt, but due to excitement rather than anger now. “Okay,” you lean in to press a soft kiss against his lips, “go get your things, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Satan nods, leaning in to kiss you again, “don’t keep me waiting too long, beloved,” he tells you with that faux-innocent smile of his. His words could be misunderstood as a warning, but you know him well enough to know it’s a plea. With that, he hauls himself off your lap, holding onto his belly gently as he heads to where he keeps his things. You’re next to leave, hurrying out of his room, hoping no one runs into you while your dick is half hard.

You grab a glass of water and some snacks for later, knowing he’ll want them but won’t want you to leave once you’re with him. Then, you rush back to his room, hoping that you haven’t kept him waiting for long.

When you return, you find Satan sitting with several items strewn across the bed. He’s curled in on himself, sniffling softly.

“Satan?” you attempt to get his attention softly, setting down what you’d grabbed on the bedside table. He lifts his head, revealing he’d been crying. You’re by his side in an instant, hauling him into your lap again, so you can embrace him.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” you ask, placing a hand gently against his belly.

“No, I-” he hiccups, “I didn’t think you’d come back is all,” he explains, his tears subsiding as he returns your embrace. You let out a startled laugh, relief flooding through your body that this is just the result of another mood swing. Bringing your other hand to his face, you wipe his tears from his flushed cheeks.

“Well I’m here, and I want to see you with some pretty cat ears, how’s that sound?” you ask, removing your hand and reaching for said accessory. Satan gives you a wobbly grin, nodding his head eagerly.

Carefully you help him clip them onto his head, “so cute,” you finish with a kiss to the tip of his nose, and Satan flushes.

“Okay to keep going?” you ask, tugging on the fabric of his shirt. He nods,

“Yes,” he sounds both breathless and soothed, “if you stopped now I think I’d have a fit,” he jokes. Except the both of you know there’s more truth than he’d like to admit in his words.

With a grin, you help him out of his shirt, revealing his swollen belly and his perky tits that have been gradually filling with milk as his pregnancy continues. You take them into your hands, rubbing his nipples with your thumbs as you massage them. Satan lets out a quiet moan, arching his chest into your hands while squirming on your lap.

He’s rubbing himself against your dick, and he’s unintentionally (though knowing Satan, it’s likely actually intentional) teasing you in the most agonizing way possible. You want to take your sweet time with him, but you know if you don’t get your pants off soon, you’re going to go crazy.

Looking over, you take a second to see what other items he picked out. Your eyes lock on the pink fabric collar adorned with lace, bows, and a little bell at the front. Your hands leave his chest as you go to pick it up, and Satan drops his head back, presenting his neck to you.

An appreciative noise leaves you at his sign of submission, and he smiles smugly. It takes you a moment to get the collar on, but once you do, Satan lets out a slow breath, looking at you through his lashes. He’s calmer now that he has it on, making you delighted and unbelievably aroused.

You tug on the front of the collar, and Satan falls forward, stabilizing himself by putting his hands on your shoulders. Still holding onto the collar, you press your lips against his, and with him sinking into his headspace, the kiss is languid and wanton.

“Open,” you mumble against his lips. Satan’s response is immediate, and he parts his lips so you can press your tongue inside his mouth. He lets you tongue fuck his mouth, moaning at the sensation and sounds that come from it. Drool seeps from his mouth, because his thoughts and senses are filled with you, and he can’t focus on simple things like swallowing.

When you pull away from the filthy kiss, a string of saliva connects your lips. Satan bobs forward, trying to follow you for another kiss. You stop him, pressing your fingers against his mouth.

“Please-” he starts to whine. You cut him off by clicking your tongue.

“My kitty doesn’t talk,” you remind him. Satan melts, letting out a loud moan, and squeezing your shoulders with excitement. “Do you remember your nonverbal signals?” you ask. He goes to open his mouth, but recalls what you’d just said and simply nods. “Good boy,” you coo, looking at what other toys he’d gotten out.

“Ooh,” you pick up the pair of white, lace, crotchless panties that Satan laid next to his tail. “You wanna put these on for me?” He nods, so you ease him off of your lap and onto his back on the bed. Hovering over him, you pull down his new maternity pants and the underwear he’s been wearing today- catching sight of the noticeable wet spot from his arousal- before you toss them off the bed.

Satan preens under your gaze, spreading his legs as wide as they’ll go so you can get a good look at his soaked pussy. “Pretty kitty,” you muse softly, rubbing his erect clit gently. Satan lets out a whimper, bucking his hips as best as he can into your touch. Your other hand rubs and massages his belly affectionately.

You touch him for a moment longer, drinking up the sounds he makes as you tease him. When you pull your hand away from between his legs, Satan whines, loud and very disappointed. Your hand that was rubbing his belly goes to pinch his inner thigh as you mumble,

“Behave,” as a warning. He huffs, but doesn’t have the time to get too upset when he sees you pick up the panties. You help him into them, pulling the fabric through one leg, then the other. Slowly, you pull them up until the garment sits nicely on his hips, framing his pussy for you. You let out a low whistle at the sight.

“God, you look so good,” you practically moan. A proud smirk works its way onto Satan’s face; he’s obviously very pleased with the fact that a simple article of clothing could have such an effect on you.

“Tail next,” you hum, grabbing the buttplug that’s affixed with a furry white tail. Satan practically wiggles with giddiness, gnawing on his puffy lips.

You grab the lube next, popping it open and lathering your fingers with it. The slick from his pussy has dribbled downwards, so Satan’s asshole is already wet when your fingers come in contact with it. You rub his rim gently,

“Relax for me kitten,” his eyes flutter shut as he focuses on doing what he’s told. With him lax under you, you’re able to press a finger into him with little resistance. Satan lets out a half pained, half pleasured moan. “Oh, taking me so well kitten, good boy,” you groan, and he practically purrs under the praise, sinking further into his headspace.

With him soothed and submissive, you’re able to easily get two fingers into him in no time. You stretch and fuck his ass with your fingers until you know he’ll be able to take the plug. Satan’s been moaning, groaning, and whimpering under you, making all sorts of sweet noises. Then, to hear him more you continue to finger fuck him, savoring the way he twitches and squeezes around your fingers.

“Guh- Muh- Puh- nghh-” his noises have shifted to sounding like syllables of something. He wants to talk so badly, and each sound comes out like he’s biting the words before they leave his mouth.

“What’s on your silly little mind, kitty?” you ask, giving him permission to speak.

“Please fuck my vagina, fuh-fill me, breed me again, I- ah- I wanna give you a litter please, please,” he blurts.

“Oh sweet boy,” you moan, delicately pulling your fingers from his hole. You take the plug, lube it up, and slip it into him easily. Satan knocks his head back and moans when his ass is filled with the plug.

“That feel good?” you ask, knowing the answer. He nods, his eyes fluttering shut as he adjusts to the new intrusion.

“Fuck me,” he pleads after a moment, like you would have forgotten about what he wants already. Feeling your own patience thinning, you quickly strip yourself of your clothes, letting out a relieved sigh when your dick is finally free from the confines of your pants.

“Have to stretch you,” you remind him, and you watch him turn red.

“No!” he wails, “I can take it, fuck me now,” he glares at you, his eyes bright and wild. You shake your head, not allowing his temper tantrum to affect your judgment.

“If you talk like that I’ll gag you,” you warn, and Satan bites his lip as you brush your lubed fingers against his cunt. “I’ll be quick, but I’m not going to fuck you until you’re stretched,” you decide. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but doesn’t talk back.

With how turned on and relaxed he is, it doesn’t take you long to have two fingers stretching and fucking open his pussy. Satan practically sobbed with relief when your digits entered him. Now he squirms and pants as your fingers curl upwards and press against his most sensitive spots. By the time you ease in a third finger, he’s close to cumming- yet refusing to admit that- so you pull your fingers out and give his lips a kiss to muffle his complaints.

Spreading the mix of lube and his juices onto your cock, you let out a soft moan at the sensation. Though you’ve been inside of him so many times before, you’ll always get excited for the heavenly pleasure that will overcome you when you slide into Satan’s pussy.

“Condom?” you ask, mostly out of habit. Instantly Satan’s brows furrow, a scowl forming on his lips. “Okay, okay, calm down kitten, I’ll fill you up with my cum,” you promise, doing your best to avoid frustrating him, kissing the glare away from his face.

When you pull back he looks content, and his disposition continues to improve when you line yourself up with his pussy.

“Good,” he purrs, outright moaning when the head of your cock presses against his entrance. You slowly push your hips forward, successfully popping yourself into his hot, wet, sticky cunt.

“Oh-” he moans, arching his back upwards, pressing his ever-growing belly against you. A moan leaves your lips as you think about the time you knocked him up. Satan didn’t have to do any convincing, but that didn’t stop him from explaining all the pros (in meticulous detail) of getting him pregnant. His presentation had turned you on like an aphrodisiac, and you’d fucked him into the early morning.

The way he scratches his nails into your shoulders brings you back to the present, and you press yourself further into him. You watch carefully for any signs of distress or discomfort, but he looks pleased as a peach under you.

As soon as your cock is fully inside of him, with your skin pressing against his and his legs wrapping around your waist, Satan lets out a startled noise. You feel it within the next second- the warm liquid gushing from his pussy. Your hips jerk against your will as you realize Satan is pissing himself, and absolutely soaking the panties he has on.

He lets out a long drawn out moan as he relieves himself, and you bring a hand down to pass your fingers through his stream.

“Got too full having both my baby and cock in your belly, huh? Just couldn’t hold it in?” Satan nods lazily, squeezing around your length at your words. “The plug up your ass probably didn’t help,” you muse as you move your hips back then forward, “you love getting the piss fucked out of you, isn’t that right?” He nods again, and you feel his stream dying down.

“Say it,” you urge, slowly rocking your hips as you start to fuck him in earnest.

“It feels so good,” he slurs. You groan softly, then stick your piss covered fingers into his mouth. He licks and sucks on them immediately, cleaning you up obediently.

Spurred on by the sight before you- with Satan drooling and slobbering on your fingers, his tits bouncing each time your hips snap against his, his eyes rolling up when you adjust to fuck him better- you can’t help but pick up the pace, fucking him harder with each thrust.

“Such a good kitty,” you praise breathlessly, and Satan digs his nails into your skin, meowing and moaning as best as he can around your fingers.

It’s when you nearly choke him that you decide to finally pull your hand away from his face. He pants for breath, drool running down his chin. You bring your now spit covered fingers to Satan’s pussy, circling and rubbing his clit.

“Close,” he tells you urgently after a moment. You’re surprised he’s still able to speak coherently, but it’s nice that he gave you a warning.

Re-angling your hips once again, you make sure your cock hits all the right spots inside of him. Your reward is the way that Satan’s cunt clenches like a vice around you,

“Fuck,” you grunt, feeling your own orgasm barrel towards you.

Satan cums first, choking out your name as he claws at your shoulders. You fuck him through it, following soon after and, as promised, pumping him full of your cum.

He lets out a soft whimper, going limp as you fuck him through your climax. You let him clench and squeeze around you, riding out any aftershocks, until it’s painful to do so. Leaning down and kissing him lovingly, you slowly pull yourself out of him.

Satan whines against your lips, but is otherwise in a state of euphoria. Laying next to him, you pull him into your arms. You mindlessly rub his belly, kissing his sweaty forehead, then his flushed cheeks, down to his jaw, his chin, and finally you sweetly kiss his lips. Satan sighs contently as you do, snuggling closer to you.

“Clean me up?” he requests softly, peeking an eye open to gauge your response. You kiss him again,

“Of course,” you reply, pulling away only enough to reach the wipes on the bedside table. Carefully, you go through the slow and dutiful process of pulling his tail plug from him, taking off all his accessories, and wiping down his body. As you do so, Satan effortlessly mutters a spell that voids the pee from the bed, making things much more comfortable for himself. With a kiss to his belly, you dispose of the dirty wipes, and return to Satan’s side.

“Thank you for doing that for me,” he says softly, humming appreciatively when you run your hands through his hair, “I enjoyed myself a lot, and feel much better,” he continues.

“I had a lot of fun too!” you assure him, “I’m always happy to take your mind off things, Satan,” he snorts.

“Yes, that’s true, and it’s part of why I love you so,” he’s told you this thousands of times now, but it still makes your heart flutter and ache happily. Satan pulls you in for a kiss, and just before your lips meet you catch the way his green eyes glitter with delight.

His stomach rumbles seconds later, and you huff out a laugh when his mood swivels from loving to serious as he pulls away to bluntly state, “I’m hungry.”

You’re glad you thought ahead, because neither of you want to leave each others embrace as you reach for the snacks you’d left on the bedside table.

#well i think the title is funny so i dont care if you guys think its lame !#cw pregnancy #cw breeding kink #p/iss #cw pet play #cw dumbification #sub satan #sub obey me #spice

408 notes · View notes

bimbodoggie · 1 year

Text

cybersex • (simon “ghost” riley x camgirl!reader)

contents/warnings: fem reader, consensual filming, toys, mean!dom simon, impregnating mention, face sitting, yourself on the shelf position, reader is plus sized, size kink, hair pulling, also simon is an asshole, oh also simon has a jacob’s ladder teehee :3

a/n: i started school and this semester has been beating my ass, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI!, all art is by @ave661

your job was way easier than simon’s, you’d play dress up and take pretty pictures and videos for thousands of people on the internet….but simon he didn’t mind it because he knew that you were untouchable.

sometimes it did bother him tho, the fact others got to see what was his on the daily, but you could quit anytime you wanted, but this particular day it was different. the way simon was acting was kind of….strange, but then again he’s a 6’2 1/2 man who parades in a skull eggshell mask and the occasional balaclava with gunpowder or charcoal to match

all day your mind was filled by your thoughts of how he’s probably on the verge of breaking up with you right now, but then again this is the same man who spent his free time on base using your photos and videos as jerk bait….the front door creaked open and the sound of his boots and duffle bag hit the floor, its like this man had no trace of sound because next thing you know you two were eye to eye staring at each other.

it was embarrassing to say the least because well, you were naked and vulnerable…the only noise that came from his mouth was a satisfied grunt followed by a quick kiss on the mouth, you decided breaking the silence first was the best thing to do considering…

“are you leaving me?” was the question of the day, he froze, like a deer in headlights…if only you knew that was the complete opposite of what needed to be said from his mouth…once again silence filled the room as he walked over and shut off your camera which made you wonder even more about what his next move was

“you know, i’ve been thinking…that maybe instead of being being the director i get my role of the old pervert, something we can both remember yeah?”

what the fuck…is this the big secret he was storing away in his file cabinet? a fantasy, your mouth opened and closed, simon’s reaction was pretty expected, a hearty laugh a booming one at that…

“cmon use your words i know somewhere in that empty brain of yours you can conjure up a couple words yeah?”

instead of a verbal response which he wanted you just shook your head and ignored him which you would have to pay the price later but who cares at least him leaving you isn’t in the equation.

without warning simon picked you up and put you on the bed, looking you in your eyes to indicate that you either was going to break or he was going to break you.

he lifted his mask and started kissing from your neck all the way down to your malleolus bone, this man knew your body like the back of his hand, all the sensitive spots, where to lick, bite and touch he knew it all. he paused to turn on the camera.

“the first thing you’re gonna do is get on your knees and tell the audience what you’re doing today, then depending on how good you are i’ll let you be in charge for a little how does that sound lovey”

your brain circuited and was now functioning off of the commands from simon you scrambled from the bed to the floor…your big eyes met his lifeless ones.

“hi- hi everyone today i will be letting my boyfriend ghost be in my- my vids”

this was humiliating but you enjoyed every single moment, your mouth met his tip which was glistening with pre and begging to be touched, his cock was decorated with piercing jewelry which was a stimulant for your cunt, with his free hand he grabbed a fistful of hair and guided you to what he wanted to do, after that nothing but grunts and degrading phrases bounced around the walls

before he was remotely close to finishing he then picked you up and fucked into you, it was too much to bare, thousands of people watching you and how your boyfriend abuses your cunt on the daily basis, simon’s hand came into contact with your ass groping it, and leaving marks which will show in the morning

there was a heart shaped, light pink butt plug jewel which sparkled in the reflection of the light, the sounds of skin filled the room as you cried out for him to be gentle, he ignored your plea but instead moved a little closer to the camera putting your holes on display for thousands to see

user239329849: he’s such a lucky man

anon3453905: i would do anything to get my hands on her

simon laughed at the desperation comments that entailed of men and their sick fantasies, but simon was the only one who could act on them…he then put you down and signaled you to sit on his face, as much as you wanted to tell him your cunt was saying too much, you wanted him and needed him…the way his warm tongue consoled your weeping cunt had you in tears, the whining and crying for him to slow down was non existent to him.

he then positioned you to where your face was in the camera while he spread open the globes of your brown ass, “gonna give you a baby, i always know when you’re ovulating, i always track it on my calendar in my phone to make sure i get you pregnant” he rasped as he increased his pace….so much was going on which made you wonder if you could take him or not

he wanted a view of how your skin turned red at the sight of him battering your insides like it was some sick recipe…. “si baby, please im just please” your replied to him as he looked you in the eyes, a light slap from his hand was to question if you were still there or if you was just brainless, you started babbling incoherent sentences which was an indication to simon you were close, he took his hand pressed it again your lower abdomen…you tried you really did but he knew your body like a map

“you really are braindead, just a hole f’me and nothin else yea?”

that sent you overboard, it was enough with the jewelry that decorated his cock, you felt the band in your stomach pop making you to make a mess, it felt as if he planned this, he was sick but you liked it….he then turn your ass and cunt to the camera to show the cum leaking out of your throbbing hole….a sloppy kiss from simon was all you needed, you felt like he was breaking you

“touch her and i will find you personally and kill you”

he then ended the live stream to give you aftercare but deep down you knew he was serious

#cod mw2 smut #simon ghost riley smut #callofdutysmut #simon riley x black!reader #call of duty smut #codsmut #simon riley smut #dom!simonriley #simon riley plus sized!reader

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artiststarme · 1 year

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Eddie hates drinking water

Ugh, am I projecting a little bit? Very much so. I hate drinking water and now Eddie does too. I hope you like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie had a strange vendetta against drinking water. Logically, he knew that it was good for the body and it was required to stay hydrated and you know, alive. However, he could never get behind it.

It tasted disgusting. Drinking water was like drinking nothing due to its plain taste and it unsettled Eddie more than anything else. Tap water tasted too plain, bottled water tasted too plain, and spring water was even worse because it tasted like metal. So, he avoided drinking water to the best of his ability. And his absolute detestment of water spread to the fruits and vegetables that tasted like water too. Carrots? No. Watermelon? No. Celery? Absolutely fucking not. Cucumber? He’d rather die.

It was just another one of the funny little quirks he had. Eddie Munson listened to outrageous metal music, stood on tabletops to deliver speeches, got accused of murder from time to time, and didn’t drink water.

Once his friends found out, they tried to convince him or sometimes outright trick him into drinking water in order to not die. Gareth would switch his Mountain Dew for flavored water (his attempt caused Eddie to dump the beverage over his head and kill his campaign character but Eddie did take a sip so he considered it a win). Jeff refused to play D&D with Hellfire until Eddie could drink a full bottle of water (Eddie didn’t try and Jeff slinked back to the drama room two weeks later in obvious defeat). Grant even tried to hold him down and pour water in his mouth when he was looking particularly dehydrated (that only ended with Eddie looking like a sad wet rat that glared at him for a month straight).

After his experience with the Upside Down and getting his name cleared, Eddie’s distaste of water continued. There’d been a small lapse at Skull Rock when water was the only thing to drink but now it was back full force. His friends and his uncle were still walking on eggshells around him, desperate not to spook him after such a harrowing experience, and unwilling to push the issue. However, Steve didn’t have that problem. Once he found out about his strange aversion, he vowed to get his boyfriend to drink water.

It started with offering Eddie a bottle of water on one of his visits to Family Video. It was a hot day and Eddie was still wearing his battle vest and a bunch of layers. Steve could see him sweating and he couldn’t afford to have him pass out due to heat stroke.

“Here man, drink this. It’s fucking hot out and if you don’t stay hydrated, you’re going to pass out.”

Eddie grimaced a little bit but took the water. “Thanks Stevie, I shall cherish this offering for the rest of my life.”

Steve just looked at him, completely unimpressed. “If you don’t drink that water, I’m not having sex with you for the rest of the month.”

That got Eddie’s attention. He wiped his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and looked at Steve in concerned bewilderment. “Seriously? Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

Eddie grumbled at him but popped the cap off and started chugging the entire bottle. When he saw Steve smiling out of the corner of his eye, he flipped him off with the hand not holding onto the water.

The kids looked on in wonder. Sure, they didn’t like hearing their babysitter proposition their dungeon master about sex. But if it got him to drink even a portion of the required daily water intake, they could make an exception.

It seemed to work so Steve kept doing it. From handing him a water bottle on the hot days to switching out his usual pop for water on his campaign nights. He even made him eat celery and watermelon on a few occasions. And Eddie seemed none the wiser to his plans!

The next time was at the Munson trailer. The boys had planned to do a picnic in the woods but the sky decided to open up and downpour so they were stuck inside. They decided to have their picnic right on the floor of the living room and sprawled out, blanket and all.

“What have you prepared for our midday feast, Chef Harrington? I assume caviar, tuna tartar, and the best foie gras?”

“Why would I feed you grass?” Steve asked him in confused offense. He wasn’t the best cook but he wouldn’t feed his boyfriend grass like a cow.

“What? Why would you have grass? I think we both know that I supply the grass in this relationship.” Eddie’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Now he had grass?

“Weed! What’re you talking about?” Eddie yelled, frustrated.

“Foy grass! You’re the one that said it!” Steve yelled back.

“No, foie gras! It’s duck kidney or some shit! I was just naming fancy foods.” Eddie explained.

“Oh okay. Well no, but I brought your favorite,” Steve told him. “Carrots and cucumbers! They didn’t have any of those pre-cut trays at the grocery store so I had to chop them myself. Bon appetit!”

Steve could see Eddie’s lips curl in disgust but he tried to hide it behind a fake smile. “Yum! I love… those.”

“Great! Once we finish these, I have turkey sandwiches and chocolate cake. Happy anniversary, babe.” Steve leaned over to give him a chaste kiss before placing the cucumbers in his hands.

Eddie looked down at the bag of misshapen sliced cucumbers for a moment before digging in and using a hand to hide his gags. “Great, this is great. You’ve outdone yourself, Stevie.”

Steve just nodded, eating the carrots while watching the amusingly disgusted faces Eddie was making.

Meanwhile, Wayne was sitting at the kitchen table drinking his coffee and watching the pair as he got ready for his afternoon shift. He knew how much Eddie hated water and everything that tasted like it so he was impressed with the Harrington kid. Anything that got Eddie to eat healthy foods on a semi-regular basis was good in his books.

As he watched Steve give him a piece of celery to eat and then a small kiss as encouragement, Wayne had an epiphany. He didn’t care that Eddie was being force fed vegetables against his will. His nephew was going to marry the Harrington kid whether he wanted to or not. God knows he was already part of the Munson family anyway.

Permanent tag list:@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium

#Eddie catches on eventually but doesn't stop drinking water and eating veggies out of fear of disappointing Steve #the corroded coffin boys see Eddie drinking water in front of Steve and think he's been possessed #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #uncle wayne #corroded coffin #gareth #jeff #grant

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bee-can-art · 10 months

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It's taken me two weeks but I finally finished all of my qsmp egg human designs!!!

I have a lot to say about the design choices I made, so I'll put those under the read more if you want to hear my headcanons!!

• Click for better quality (17/07/2023)

_____

Some general headcanons:

• In order of shortest to tallest it goes: Bobby, Richalyson, Gegg, Tallulah, Tilín, Trump, JuanaFlippa, Pomme, Chayanne, Leonarda, Ramón, and Dapper.

• All of the eggs when found were wearing the same white vest/t-shirt and black shorts combination; along with their unique accessories. Any clothes that they're currently wearing, were gifted to them by the player characters.

• All of the eggs are the same age, and are all related (pretty sure that's canon tho).

• The eggs take on physical features from their parents, as an survival instinct. This includes basics such as hair and eye colour. But also includes things such as height and hair type.

• Eggs who's parents are avian/have bird-like features (such as wings), will adapt to have the same wing type as them. This also applies to other eggs, who are taken care of by avian players (see: Tallulah has dragon wings, but is growing black and golden feathers on them).

• The lower half of the eggs are dragon-esque; with scaley legs and clawed feet. The colour of their scales and number of toes that they posses are fixed and cannot be changed. Their ears and horn are a unique shape and colour, depending on the egg. The horns will continue to grow into adulthood.

They also have more naturally sharpened nails (like claws (but not sharp enough to hurt)).

_____

Tallulah

• Wears one of Wilbur's yellow sweaters, the sleeves often hanging over her hands. The red dress she wears is actually meant to be a pinafor, which is a staple part of a primary school uniform, here in the UK. They're most commonly grey, which I originally coloured it but it didn't look right, so I changed it.

• Has a freckle under her right eye (to her) that matches Wilbur, but also has a reverse freckle pattern of Quackity (I'm a tntduo-er (sue me)).

• Due to being cared for by Phil, she has begun growing small, black feathers on her wings. She also has a few golden ones, which started appering whilst trying to get Quackity to confess to Wilbur.

___

Chayanne

• Takes after Phil the most, due to Missa's absence. This includes his wings becoming feathered crow ones, growing feathers on his face and tail, and has a hair and an eye colour to match Phil's. He also has a matching mole.

• Sometimes wears a helmet made from a large eggshell, painted to look like a skull (a nod to Missa and the fact that the eggs are... well, eggs). The skull on his t-shirt is also a nod to Missa (but he defo got it from Phil).

• His duck floaty has been replaced by a yellow hoodie, tied around his waist.

___

Tilín

• Remember how I said that the clothes they wear were given to them by their parents? I like the idea (and think it's very in-character for him) that Quackity basically said, "I don't have any clothes for you, so just wear this until I find some", giving Tilín one of his jackets, and then they Tilín passed away before he could get him something else.

• He and Tallulah are the same height (again, I'm a tntduo-er (yes I am aware that Tilín's other parent has been confirmed to be Luzu, but this is my post so SHUSH). Also, similar to Tallulah, they have the same freckle pattern as Quackity, and an opposite placed freckle (under their left eye) to Wilbur.

• Has golden wings and feathers on face. Doesn't has a tail, due to low placement of their wings.

___

JunaFlippa

• Wears one of Slime's white t-shirts with the three red hearts. Also owns a pair of Mariana's red gloves (not included in the drawing).

• Her wings have small holes in them, due to going to hell and coming back again.

• Gun.

• Her hair colour is closest to Slimecicle's, but it's unknown why her eyes are green (not brown like Mariana or blue like Slime).

___

Bobby

• The smallest of all the eggs.

• From Jaiden he has her wings, bang and hair sprout pattern and colour. From Roier he has his multiple eyes (bc spider), eye colour, and wears one of his bandanas like him.

(I forgot to include the paint stains on his clothes, but he has those too).

___

Leonarda

• Has small, rainbow mushrooms growing from their horns.

• From Foolish she has wings of gold (yes, you heard me. Leo's wings aren't like Tilín's with golden feathers, but are literally made from gold (yes she can still fly with them)). From Vegetta they have his hair and eye colour.

___

Trump

• Was given one of Dan's turtlenecks and jackets, which were never replaced because, 1) Dan went "missing", 2) he [Trump] died before getting anything else.

(On another note, it was so wild for me to draw that jacket. I used to be a HUGE DanTDM fan, and the last time I drew fanart relating to him was in 2016/17)).

• Took after Maxo in hair and eye colour.

___

Dapper

• The tallest egg (bc qBBH is one tall motherfucker). • Obviously, all of his features come from BBH, including the shape of his horns and the shape of his tail.

(if you were to put Dapper and BBH next to each other, Dapper would literally just look like a tiny BBH).

___

Pomme

• Her beret isn't all black like her egg model, but looks like a red apple.

• Has split-coloured scales (one side blue, the other red) to match the placement of the markings on her egg model.

• Has golden duck wings to match Baghera. I went back and forth on whether to give her those or the butterfly wings she wears in-game. But I like the idea that those are more simialr to those fancy-dress type ones you can buy.

• The bottom of her dress has an apple stiched onto it.

___

Ramón

• Second tallest egg.

• Yes he has hair under the hat (I haven't made him bald, don't worry). The hat itself is a nod to Spreen, who is his other parent but hasn't logged on in a while. His general outfit is also mean to have belonged to Spreen, as his Minecraft skin is just a bear in Steve's clothes.

I changed the pants, and added a white shirt and monocle because I like the idea that he's a bit of a fancy boy.

• The moustache on his egg model is represented in his hair, which you can see sticking out from under the hat (bc, like Chayanne, I had no idea how to get it to work in a logical sense).

___

Richarlyson

• The second shortest egg.

• I'll be completely honest, I have no idea where the prosthetic leg headcanon came from for him, but I liked it so I included it. The leg I gave him is a running blade, as he is a fairly active kid.

• His hair covers his eyes, but underneath they are brown.

___

Gegg

(Yes I'm including Gegg, shush)

• His whole body is green goop. This is how qSlime would also look, but it's easier for him to have his skin appear human, when at his "correct" size. When he [Slime] becomes over emotional/damged, his skin becomes more slime like.

Gegg is qSlime's way of coping with both his own daughter's loss and also his own self image. Because of this, he is always in a state of hurt, and this is refelected in Gegg's physical appearance.

• Has sticks sticking out of him, as well as visible bones, rocks, and other debris within his body. They get stuck in his him, in moments where he has a hard time controling the stickiness/consistency of his body.

• Doesn't have horns, wings, or a tail like the other eggs. Instead, he wears a pair of green, fancy-dress, dragon wings. It's obvious to other players/eggs- because they're on the outside of his clothes- but no points it out.

• Jorts.

• His t-shirt says "gegg" upside down, because he wrote it on himself, whilst wearing the shirt.

• No nose. His eyes also hover inconsistently over where his hair should cover them. His glasses are also just qSlime's.

• Gegg for president.

Here's the full lineup, for anyone who read alllll of that :D

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takami-takami · 9 months

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Tw: about any trauma but if you must have a specific tw, dm me or just be careful. highly encourage you to avoid reading this if you need. keigo comforts you through past paternal trauma. regression/dissociation.

"He's not your father, sweetheart."

"What?"

Keigo's smile is one that is saturated with water.

His eyes remain fixed down at the palms placed in his. A single thumb rolls along the knuckles that protrude from the back of your hand, diving between each hill and valley as it travels in a comforting lull.

Up, down. Up and down.

His warmth waxes and wanes like waves, soothing your nerves as if it were laps against the crystaline shores of someone else's happy place. The intimacy is familiar, a memory of the muscle settled several years in.

Keigo's gaze finally meets yours, crumbling utterly at your feet; but he hides it well. He remains kneeling, level with you as you sit on the edge of your mattress.

"I said, he's not your father. Dads don't do that to their little ones," he explains, as if he were speaking to one of the children that cling to him from the rubble. The ones he "saves" on the missions that find their resting place in his nightmares.

"You don't have to put up with it. I can help you get away."

Your averted gaze causes him to panic, doubling his reassurance.

"Let me keep you safe. Under my wings," he flares them for emphasis, spreading the glorious plumage in front of you both. The action is slow, on eggshells. It's deliberate, a desperate attempt, the perpetual ace up his sleeve— this is an interview after all, one he pleads to whatever power is out there that he passes. He has an inkling that everyone else you've ever interviewed has failed you.

"I swear on my life, I can protect you. I promise. Let me help you?"

The subtext is clear: this is what he's good for. This is what he knows. This is what his feathers pull him to do, what he's trained for all his life.

You choose to ignore his words. That's alright, he nods. Keigo learned in his hero training that dissociation is a common defense mechanism when recounting traumatic events.

"It's easier when it's a thing that happens in my head," you say, flicking your fingertips along the ridges of his worn nails, playing with his silver rings and the skin on his hands. Your other hand taps a finger against your skull for emphasis.

It's a child's voice you speak in. Keigo nods along like it isn't.

"But when other people say it happened in the living room, I get real upset," you explain. "I'd rather it just stay a dream."

Your words are all you have, so you offer them as explanation. Keigo is perceptive. Keigo will decipher them. Keigo knows your code.

Keigo is smart, Keigo is big, Keigo is strong.

"Have you ever noticed," you ask. "That when you wake from the most horrid dream, the fear only lingers for a moment? Your mind adjusts so quickly to waking life— but if the beasts in your dreams were in the living room instead of the clouds, you'd be recounting that experience from a chair across a shrink's desk for the rest of your life."

Keigo's knees creak when he wordlessly rises, sitting beside you. You accept his silent invitation, crawling your way into his arms, hiding in his chest as if it were some kind of shielding rubble.

He doesn't smell like dust, though. He smells like trees, like a well-grown oak.

"Nobody believes me."

"I do. Dove, I do." His hand smoothes against your forehead, rocking gently to soothe you.

"It was scary. It's scary. It's not a memory that stays in the past. It's still happening now. It's sticky."

"I know it is. You're a brave little bird," he coos. "Bravest little bird I've ever seen."

"I don't care that I'm brave. Everyone asks if I'm safe now, but it already killed me. That's all I care about."

A question strikes him as he pulls away to peer into your eyes, thumbs smooshing your cheeks: how can you not see how much light you have left?

It's okay. He'll sit with you until you see it.

And sit, and sit, and sit.

There will come a day when you, too, sprout like trees. The seeds are already in you, and there are hours and hours waiting to be lived once you wake up.

#i hope this makes sense. posting at 11 at night. woop.#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #tw trauma #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #comfort

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