#and i know that making a stink about it is just going to harm all of us as a whole and i wouldn't do that

[xiao-come-home]

Making Boothill a new hat and now he's going to wear it everywhere. And if someone dares to insult or damage it? They better say their prayers.

Angry as f Boothill... Oh Lord help us all 🥶

OH HE'S NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO FOR A LONG TIME. It's probably not as bad when someone insults it - although Boothill just might almost break their jaw and throw insults at them (even though it comes out as "just what! Did ya say about my hat, FRECKLE!"), he'll remember that person till they, literally, die.

"Oh, we meet again. The stink that insulted my hat, from my beloved. Hope ya feel peachy (like shit) today."

Boothill truly loves the hat you made him - it's like a mobile piece of your heart he's able to move anywhere, especially if you aren't accompanying him that day! It reminds him of you, your smell, your love for him, and but most importantly—

Poof! Someone shoots a bullet.

It didn't harm Boothill - thank aeons - but his new hat falls on the floor, the now new, uninvited hole carved into it.

...But most importantly, your poured your entire heart into it, and await for him at home.

Boothill freezes for a while, throwing off the shooter, or - how the cyborg decided to call them - the victim; he bends down and picks up the hat, dusting it off carefully, his thumb trailing the outline of the ugly he from the bullet.

"Do you know what have you done?" Boothill's tone is cold like ice; he stands still with his back facing the poor person, his snowy hair floating gently against the wind. The person doesn't seem to answer his question, making him even more agitated.

"I said," Boothill almost growls, spitting out a bullet and turning around, "do ya know what have ya just done?!"

Crimson flashes in his eyes; the bystanders only hear rapid sounds of fired bullets, almost if they had their own mind and hatred to the person they're targeting.

Even though Boothill comes out victorious in this battle (duh!), he plops down on the couch defeated, sighing and clinging the hat to his chest. You kiss and cradle his cheek, feeling him nuzzle into your hand; he closes his eyes in content, but still feeling uneasy inside.

"Some donkey (dick) destroyed my new hat. So I taught them a lesson." He explains calmly and hands you the headpiece. He opens one of his eyes and observes you quietly, awaiting your reaction.

"It's alright - I can fix this for you," you answer gently, giving him a soft smile; your eyes examine the place of the unfortunate bullet that once went through. You can see the wide smile on his face in the corner of your eye, shortly after feeling the familiar, sweet warmth of his lips on your palm.

"But you need to get cleaned up first... There's blood on the entire couch, Boothill!"

#got carried away teehee #hc he loses his accent when he's very angry #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #boothill #.thirst

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Explanations

part 4 of MM ao3

Danny winced, overwhelmed for a moment at the emotions Hood was projecting. A flurry of fear, anger, not again, pain being shoved at him as forcefully as if someone were screaming in his ear. 

Danny raised his hands in surrender. “Look, we don’t mean any harm. I honestly have no idea what pits you’re talking about, but I do know a lot about the being dead thing.”

Hood didn’t move, just kept glaring at him.

Danny took a chance and projected peace, want to help, it’s ok. 

Hood’s angry aura faded and he stumbled back a step.

“What was that?” Hood growled and Danny gulped as Hood’s aura flared again with anger, confusion, fear.

“Sorry.” Danny said. “I forget that new liminals aren’t used to projecting, but it’s just another form of talking. And you don’t need to worry, I’m also dead adjacent. “Though,” Danny paused, “I don’t know what the lazarus pits are.”

Hood was still tense but his aura had pulled back a little. “The Lazarus Pits are lakes of glowing green goo.”

“Huh.” Danny gleaned at Jazz. “We call the green goo Ectoplasm. But if these pits are what brought you back, I think they might be rancid. You stink.”

“Excuse me?” Hood took a step back as his aura flared with indignation.

Jazz cleared her throat.

“What my brother means is that the ectoplasm that brought you back may have been polluted. He can tell because he also has ectoplasm in his system which allows him to sense other sources of ectoplasm.”

“Explain.” 

“Look,” Jazz said, “Why don’t we all sit down and I’ll make some tea and then Danny can explain better.” she sent a pointed look in his direction.

“Fine.”

Jazz nodded and turned and walked toward the kitchen where there was a table and some chairs. Danny followed her and so did Hood.

Danny fiddled with his hands as Jazz was making tea. Honestly, Danny was trying not to comment on the fact that the fully dressed vigilante looked kind of ridiculous sitting at their kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea?” Jazz said, looking toward Hood.

Hood paused before responding. “No thanks.” 

Jazz nodded then turned back toward the kettle.

“Soooo….” Danny started. “Before we go on, i do need to know if you actually died, or if you just encountered some green goo.”

Hood didn’t say anything.

Danny sighed. “If it helps, I actually died and was brought back to life via green glowy stuff.”

Danny waited and was about to give up and wait for Jazz to lead the conversation when Hood finally spoke.

“I died, I’m not sure what brought me back. But then I was dumped in a Lazarus Pit.”

“Huh.” There weren’t a lot of things that could bring people back from the dead as far as Danny knew, but with all the craziness he’d already experienced in his own life, he wasn’t surprised. Though it was interesting that Hood had been exposed to ectoplasm afterward. What would that make Hood? A liminal, or a halfa like him? But as much as Danny would like someone else like him, since it wasn't ectoplasm that brought Hood back the man was probably just a liminal.

“Here you go, Danny.” Jazz said, setting a mug in front of him and then taking a seat next to him.

Danny inhaled the warm scent of spices and then looked at Hood. “So, how do you want to do this? I can do a quick info dump and then you ask questions, or you can just ask questions and I’ll answer them?”

“Info first, then I’ll ask questions.”

Danny nodded.

“First of all, ghosts are real.” he paused, but when Hood didn't say anything he continued. “They live in an alternate dimension and are fueled by and made of ectoplasm, the green glowy stuff. There are various things that can make a ghost, but we don’t need to get into that now. This is just the basics. When a human has a near death experience, or is exposed to ectoplasm they have the chance of becoming what we call liminal. That just means that they lean a little toward the ghostly side.” he glanced at Jazz, his gaze questioning and she nodded. “That’s what me and Jazz are. And that’s what I think you are.”  Danny waited for a moment, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Any questions.”

“How did you heal me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Danny shrugged and sat back. “As liminals we actually need some ectoplasm to survive and it can help heal us. Usually, the ectoplasm in our bodies heps us heal ourselves, but I think yours can’t since,” Danny wrinkled his nose, “whatever source you got yours from is obviously rank.”

“What does that even mean?” Hood said, but he sounded tired not angry.

Jazz smiled gently at him. “Ectoplasm that stays too long in the Living Realm, here, can absorb pollutants. Think of it like,” she hummed and tapped her finger against the table, “like air in an improperly ventilated area. If air isn’t allowed to move and flow it can become stale. The same with ectoplasm. It’s a form of energy that needs to flow and be filtered in the Infinite Realms, where the ghosts are, or it needs to be filtered by ghosts. But if it’s allowed to just sit in one area and build up, continually absorbing energy, but unable to filter or release it then it grows rank.”

“It’s complicated.” Danny said. “And neither of us is the greatest at explaining since we’re still learning. But yeah, ectoplasm is a form of energy that flows between dimensions.

Danny smiled at Hood, there were faint feelings of confusion, disbelief, denial, no true, not true, I’m alive. But Danny did his best not to push anything toward the other liminal. He didn’t want to scare the man.

“I need to go.” Hood said, standing abruptly. 

Danny startled, but nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Jazz stood. “You’re welcome back here anytime if you have questions.” Jazz smiled. 

Danny felt the briefest glimmer of attraction come from Hood and while Jazz was good at not projecting, Danny could tell from her face that she was feeling similarly toward Hood.

Danny smirked. This would be fun.

#danny phantom #jason todd #batman #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc au #danny fenton #liminal jazz #jazz fenton #jason is liminal

[octuscle]

Hey man, I've recently hired a trainer to help me get in shape and he's been super helpful! But he gave me this weird deodorant to use, says it's the kind that "real men" use. I don't know what he's saying by that, and the deodorant doesn't seem to be helping, I'm always sweaty and a bit musky after a workout. Any idea what's going on here?

You are not dissatisfied with your body. You are good-looking. You are fit and athletic. But no one believes that you are already 32 years old. No one thinks you're the boss in your own startup. Many think you're the intern. You're quite happy with the results of your collaboration with your trainer so far… You finally have something like upper arms… If the deodorant makes it even better… It won't do any harm.

You've been using the deodorant for a week now. You don't understand why. You're not just under the impression that it's not helping. Somehow you stink more after each application than before. It acts like a fertilizer for your underarm hair. You have a real bush under your arms. And as your upper arms grow, your T-shirt sleeves slip further and further up. Your armpit hair is constantly visible. And when you wear a shirt, you immediately have sweat stains under your arms. You're so uncomfortable that you only work from home.

A week later, you're done with the overshirts anyway. Firstly, none of your shirts fit you anymore. And secondly, the feeling of fabric on your armpits is driving you crazy. You can't stand any more fabric where the deodorant goes. Coach told you not to use the deodorant only under your armpits. You love the smell. Maybe you're overdoing it a bit with the use. One can barely lasts a week.

You've changed gyms. People have complained about your smell at your show-off gym. Sure, pussies who don't train properly don't smell like a real man. And then one of the bourgeoisie said that training with a naked upper body wasn't in line with the house rules. Damn, it itches like hell when you wear a T-shirt during training. Tank top? Maybe. But in the cool gym you're in now, it doesn't matter anyway. Hardly anyone wears a top. And most of them are as hairy as you are. At least almost.

Coach got you a new job. Mover. Finally something honest. The ladies and the boys love it when you carry boxes. And you're no longer just training in the gym, but basically all day long. Coach has given you a new shower gel. Actually something for pussies… Water and deodorant. That's all you need. But if Coach says so…

The shower gel is the devil's stuff. You only use it on your head, face and crotch… When you cleaned out your own old apartment the other day, none of your old neighbors recognized you. But they turned up their noses. You would have liked to have pressed your face into the armpit of one or two of them. But what for? There are plenty of bros in your gym with whom it's more fun. Real men, after all. Just like you are!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #bear tf #white to blue collar tf #ai image

[pixeechix21]

Toxic!stalker! Ghost

Summary: you're petty and decide to teach Simon (Ghost) a lesson. Too bad he’s a stubborn cunt. He tracks you down in the club, with another guy, after kicking him out he decides to show you who’s really in control

TW: very rough, TOXIC, explicit, jealousy, harm, degradation, praise (kinda) there’s more but IDK soooo…. Oh well. Plz read at own risk this is very toxic stalkerish

You got a message from him just, short and blunt.

-Don’t go out tonight.

you huff out annoyed at how he’s so controlling. 

- Fuck you don’t own, just watch me xx.

 You type back furiously then turn to your best friend, “imma need something stronger,” you say to her as you rummage through her room looking for the vodka. 

“He still at it? You know you really need to fix your obsession with those types babe,” she shakes her head smiling as she zips up her dress then goes to help you with yours. 

“Get back to me when you follow your own advice,” you joke laughing. She gives you a playful slap and continues with her makeup.

At the club you feel your head swimming already. You just want to get lost to the flow of the music, and push Ghost to the back of your head. The bouncer gives you both a sleazy up down, that prompts you to go deeper into the club. “Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice, wide eyed you make direct contact with Simon’s hazel eyes. “Look at you! You bonnie lasses,” Soap’s accent is heavier as he gives you a drunken hug and one to Eve. 

You smile trying your best not to give in to the urge to look at Ghost again. “I thought you weren’t going out,” you shout over the music. Soap goes on to explain that Simon wanted to go out one last time before the next deployment. 

“Keep this between us he’s been acting moody all day,” Gaz chips in laughing drunkenly hooping an arm around Eve for support. He says it loud enough for him to hear, Simon takes a stiff drink ignoring the light jabs. “Been a Krabby patty today haven’t ya,” Gaz pinches Simon's cheeks before they’re swatted away.  

“Oh my god i love this song!” Eve shouts and drags Gaz away to dance. Not wanting to stay closer to Simon’s cold glare. You go to walk past him, but his large hand grips your elbow pulling you in closely, he dips his head so that you can hear him, “you look stunning. Watch your back,” with that he lets go of you. Blushing you walk away to join Gaz and Eve’s little dance circle. 

All night you can feel his eyes burning in the back of you. You’re annoyed at how he was never meant to be there, and now is deliberately ruining your night. You’ve had enough. I’ll show him, you think pettily. A guy behind you starts to guide your hips in sync with his movements. Bingo. You let yourself go with him, dancing and feeling your bodies pressed closely. Arms snaking around your bodies, gripping holding. He breathes the stinks of alcohol as his mouth comes close to yours. Over his shoulders you see Simon glaring at you, you pull the guy's head closer to you, “do you want to get out of here?” You say lightly biting his ear, you can feel him shiver under your hands. He pulls back looking like a college frat boy about to get his first girl, ever. “Yeah, I know some people,” his fingers dig into your ass. You almost want to barf at how he’s touching you. But you know it’ll peeve Simon off, he wouldn’t let anyone touch you anyways. Eve gives you a wide eyed worried look “HE’S UGLY DON'T DO IT” shaking of the head. You mouth “it’s fine,” and she shrugs, gives up and goes back to Gaz.

“Take us somewhere they can’t hear us,” you say looking up sultrily. Without warning his lip engulfed yours, sloppily tonguing your mouth open. It’d nasty you’re not going to lie but, you pull away. He takes your hand and  leads you away to the VIP rooms. Looking over your shoulder you make sure to catch Simon’s eyes, but he’s already looking at you. His eyes are dangerously calm tracking your movements through the crowd. Soap is dancing awkwardly around him, almost spilling as he tries to drink. He leads you away up a level to a quiet room, inside there is a view of the dance floor below and plush couches, looking around you spot it. The CCTV. You walk yourself over to the central couch and look up at him, the camera in front you. He walks up to you, eagerly going to pull down his pants. Instantly you reach out your hand and stop him. “Come here and kiss me,” you pull him down to you. Again with that sloppy kiss. 

He’s on the couch and you straddle him.

Simon had watched you get led away from him by a sleazy, college boy that didn’t know how to handle an ass like yours. He was furious at you, he wants nothing more than to teach you your place. Soap spots him, “who’s pissed your porridge big guy,” Soap follows his eyes and chuckles. “Cheeky one that lass is,” he pats Simon on his back. 

“I’ll be back, don’t get lost,” Simon says and walks off, behind him Soap laughs, “can’t promise anything!” 

Simon finds himself heading straight for the security room. The small weazily boy sputtered as he saw Ghost's large figure enter. “I think it’s your time to leave,” he says. The boy tries to protest but as Ghost comes closer he scrambles out of his seat and runs out of the room. Simon looks for you on the large sets of screens. He clicks on your room, his blood rushes instantly to his cock. There you were beautiful, but held by the greedy boy’s hands. He watches you, knowing that you know that he knows he’s watching you. The way you ground your ass into his lap, he wishes that it was him. He sits there for a little longer, getting harder as he feels himself at you pleasuring himself on top of another man, knowing that you too wish it was Simon instead. You toss your head back, making eye contact with the camera, smirking. Simon groans at how devilish your acting. He catches the boy’s hand shoveling themselves under your clothes and he loses it. He storms out of the room and heads straight for the private room. He didn’t even knock as he slammed the door open. The boy beneath you pushes you off scared shitless. You smile at his entrance. “Always knows how to make an entrance,” you laugh out sitting standing up to confront him. He has a crazed look as you stand there makeup smudged, the strap of your dress half off your shoulder. 

“Wh- who are you? Do you know who I am!” The college boy stands up looking pathetic with his pants unbuttoned and a wrinkled shirt. Simon takes two strides and takes him by the shirt.

Baring his teeth, “I don’t fucking care, you could be the god damn prime minister and you still wouldn’t be allowed to touch her,” he grounds out through gritted teeth. The boys looked frightened half to death. 

“Let go of me!” he says, voice cracking as he tries to sound bravado. “She didn’t want you, she picked me. Leave so we were busy.”

“Trust me she didn’t, you leave before you lose that nosey little pecker,” Simon threatens. You watch him, biting your lips and clenching your thighs as you imagine how far he’d be willing to go for you. He shoves the boy to the ground, causing him to stumble and fall then crawls to his feet running out whilst shouting, “my father will hear about this!” 

Simon doesn’t give him a second thought, turning to you. He comes to you towering over you, chest rising and falling in anger.

God he’s gorgeous when he’s angry at you, you think desperately. You smile prettily at him making him growl in frustration. “What am I going to do wihh a little brat like you, hm? Tell me love,” his rough hand touches your bare thigh, riding up.

He takes a step forward, you can feel his muscles tensing as you lay a hand innocently on his chest. “I don’t know, whatever you want Simon,” you practically purr as his thumb makes circles on the inside of your thigh. 

“After that show, I have no choice but to punish you,” his voice is husky, gently grabbing your throat. Your breaths mingle. His size and the ever looming threat suspends in the air around you, replacing the vital oxygen with pure lust. You clench your thighs again in anticipation.

He looks done and your misshapen outfit, slowly his fingers travel from your throat to your shoulders he slips off one strap then the other. You stand there as the dress falls helplessly to the floor. In the red and blue lights he can see your curves, light up angelically. He doesn’t know if he should worship you like a goddess or show you how much of a devil he can be. 

You nipples are hard from the wanting. Your panties are already soaked through. You look down to his tightening pants and bite your bottom lip, at having him fuck you. “Such a pretty thing,” he says absentmindedly.

He takes the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours. This kiss wasn't at all like the one before. This kiss made your head swim, and your stomach to flutter. Your hands instantly take hold of him, pulling and clawing at anything so that your bodies are closer together. He steals all the air in your lungs as if he was taking your soul, locking it up so that you can never reach it. You absorb him groans as he gives in to you. This isn’t sexy like what you’ve seen in the movies, it’s messy, desperate, intoxicating. He pinches and teases one of your nipples causing you to moan.

 Breaking apart, lips swollen, he pushes you down to the couch. Above you his eyes dart across your body lusciously remembering every inch for when he’s out in deployment. “Open your legs, shouldn’t be that hard for you, love” he stands there. You look up at him unsure at what he’s going to do. You never knew what that psycho was planning. Obediently you open your legs. Between then he could see the wet patch, and stifles the urge to rip them off and eat you out so much that you won’t even be able to scream his name.

“Good. Show me what you do when I’m not here,” he says, not taking his eyes off of you. You move your fingers down to your soaking cunt. Underneath the panties you start to work yourself, trying to break eye contact. The blood rushes to his cock more. The pain of him wanting to fuck you blurs his thoughts. Seeing you fuck youself was adorable, how you wriggled and struggled to meet his eyes. His pants become unbearably tight and he has to adjust slightly. “Simon,” you whine, bucking your hips as you start to finger yourself.

“That’s it my sweet,” he rumbles. “Imagine that my cock filling you up,” his words fuel your imagination. You whine and moan as you come around your fingers. Splayed out you look like a meal ready to be devoured. Simone drops to his knees and rips your panties off, removing your finger with his tongue. He laps up and down, licking you, circling your swollen clit. Hands pushing your hips to the couch firmly as he tongue fucks your pussy. You hold tightly to his hair trying to grind against his face so that you can come easily. “You don’t come until I say so. Understand?” he says against you. You look down at him and weakly nod your head. He doesn't stop this tormenting, not until you were saying incoherent words begging him to let you come. “Not fucking yet.” 

He has to fuck you. He’s already dripping precum as he takes his member out of his boxers. You lick your lips at the sight. “You want it?” You eagerly say yes, eyes glowing as he takes the tip and puts it to your mouth. “Tounge out for me,” you stick out your tongue. He takes the tip and taps it on your tongue, lubricating it with your spit. You can taste the slight slatiness as lick the precum off. 

On top of you he crushes your body, the pressure reassuring you that this is reality. He teases his tip into you, feeling you clench around him he grunts at your tightness. You feel heavenly to him as you take him in inch by inch like the good slut you are. “That’s it every single inch,” he whispers to your ear. The couch creaks lightly as he starts to pump in and out of you. You feel your climax build up again as the friction rubs off against you. He groans and swears under his breath as he unfurls from sanity. It hurts so fucking bad. “Fuck Simon- please harder-” you’re cut off as he starts to absolutely rail into you. “You like that?” he bites your neck and kisses it, leaving a mark. One hand holding both of yours above your head, the other clamping down on you thigh. “Shit Simon I need to come,” you scream in the crook of his neck.

“Who’s fucking pussy is this?” He goes harder. You try to get the words out but have lost all ability to think, “you shouldn’t have teased me with that frat boy. You really thought he knew how to fuck you?” you shake your head, eyes tearing up at his force. “This pussy is mine, repeat that. This beautiful pussy is mine.”

“This- this-” 

“-beautiful pussy.” he urges. His fucking get faster, you milk him as he goes on.

“This beautiful pussy is- is yours,” you manage to get out. His lips are on yours eating you up, tongue dominating yours. The wet sounds of your soaking cunt being fucked by him fill the room. The sound of flesh against flesh. “Good, come on me,” he puts his hand between you and then circles your clit. You can’t hold it any longer, a slurry of words escape and you are finally able to come. As you clench around he’s unable to hold back, you can feel his cum seeping out of you, as your juices mix and drip down his cock. What a night.

I can’t think of an ending, it took me waaay too long to write this and tomorrow I’ve got a full day so my bad if it’s not edited

(Also please note that yes this an/ can be an example of a healthy relationship, if you feel like you've experienced this plz be careful loves xx)

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #fem!reader #smut #cod smut #konig mw2 #x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost smut #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley x reader #simon riley

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cross to Bear

Summary: A certain monk catches the attention of a woman that Uhtred and his men are gracious enough to rescue. Based on this request. Warnings: Brief mentions of cancer, illness, death, abuse and alcoholism. Slight angst. Eventual smut. Word count: ~3.4k

She is sixteen when her mother passes away from the lump in her breast. She cannot grieve. There is no one left to shield her or her younger sister from the beatings that their father is eager to dish out each evening when he stumbles home from the tavern, drunk and stinking of ale. They make the decision to leave, taking their chances out in the world.

The life of a vagrant is hard, but the exhilaration that is found in freedom is simply unmatched. On bad days, she is forced to share her body with strange men in exchange for coin to ensure her and her sister have enough to eat. On good days, they pick wildflowers in the warmth of the sunshine, and at night tell stories as they cuddle up together beneath the stars. They never remain in a single place for long, always moving, always searching for somewhere to call home.

She is eighteen when her sister develops a fever. She soaks rags in a stream to cool the scorching heat of her skin, allows her to drain their waterskin dry without complaint, and rubs her back as the persistent coughing denies her sleep. Within three days her sister is too weak to travel any further. They have been sheltering in dense woodland and are at least a day’s walk from the nearest town, so she cannot go to get help, she cannot risk leaving her alone in the open for so long. She has no choice but to sit and watch her deteriorate, providing what little comfort she can. By the next morning she is gone.

Upon waking to the feel of her sister cold beside her, she finally allows herself to weep. The ache in her chest that she has held at bay for the last two years finally breaches forth, blooming painfully through the expanse of her heart. She cries for the loss of her mother, for the loss of the only friend she had in her sibling and for how utterly lost she feels. Long after her tears have subsided she remains hunched over the body, consumed by her grief.

“If it is fever you must burn the body.”

She has no idea how much time has passed as she has laid there mourning, but the voice startles her out of her stupor and she looks up to see four men on horseback looming over her. She hadn’t even heard them approach.

They look to be mercenaries, all of them wear light armor and carry swords. The man that has addressed her has long dark hair and is brutish looking. One of his travel companions is bearded and surly, while another has a half shaved head; the Mjölnir around his neck indicates he is a Pagan. Ordinarily, she would be fearful in the face of such intimidating looking men, and assume they mean her harm, however, there is something about the fourth man that eases her mind and assures her she is in no danger. He has soft blue eyes and a kind face that wears an expression that suggests he is more afraid of her than she is of him.

“I-I cannot. I am alone.” She confesses, her voice hoarse from her earlier sobs.

“Then you will allow us to help you.” The long haired man insists, climbing down from his horse.

She learns their names are Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. They carry her sister’s body to a clearing and she stands solemnly, numbness settling over her, as she watches it burn.

“Who was she to you?” Finan enquires gently.

“My sister, my only friend, all that I had left.” She doesn’t attempt to hide her despair, she does not have the strength.

“We should say a prayer.” Osferth offers, his voice soft and full of sympathy.

She has never been particularly religious. What kind of a God would allow her to endure all she has been through and think it just? But she finds comfort in his orison, joining in with the “amen” that he finishes with.

“What will you do now?” Finan asks her.

“Truly, I do not know. I have nowhere to go and no one to go with.”

“You can join us.” Uhtred steps forward, eyeing the rest of the group as they all nod their affirmation.

“I have nothing to offer you.” She says, her cheeks flush with shame.

“Neither do we.” Quips Sihtric with a wry smile.

“Then it’s settled.” Finan decides, clapping Osferth on the back. “Baby Monk, she rides with you, you’re scrawny enough that your horse can carry both of you without any trouble.”

When Osferth discovers that she has never ridden on horseback before, he suggests that she rides up front with him behind her, so he can ensure she doesn’t slip off.

He helps her into the saddle and then climbs on after her. Her heart hammers in her chest as he puts his arms around her waist to take hold of the reins. She can feel his leather breastplate pressed against her back. Being in such close proximity to him causes her breathing to quicken and she stays rigid as they set off at a leisurely trot, afraid that he may feel the reaction she is having to him.

“My lady, please relax, or this will be an uncomfortable journey for you.” He tells her, though his voice is hesitant with shyness.

She blushes scarlet with embarrassment, mortified that he has noticed her unease. She does as he says though, settling back against him. His presence is calming, the warmth of him against her coupled with the gentle undulation from the horse soothes her.

A few moments pass in silence before Osferth speaks. “What happened to you?”

“It is a long story.” She sighs.

“It is a long journey.” He counters. She can hear the faintest of smiles in his voice.

She tells him of her mother, her father, of her and her sister leaving home and all they had endured on their travels. She recounts her sister’s fever, of watching her fade, everything up to the point that she had met him.

He listens, allowing her to speak without interruption. When she finishes he is quiet for a moment longer.

“I am sorry for your loss, my lady. I pray better days may find you.” He says eventually.

She sighs, eager to focus the attention on anything other than herself. “And what of you? Do you have a family?”

“There is not much to tell.” He admits. “I was a monk. Now I serve Lord Uhtred.”

She detects a sadness in his tone, there is definitely more to his story, but she dares not press him further as he is clearly uncomfortable speaking of it. She feels foolish for allowing herself to entertain her attraction to him; of course he is a man of God, he’d never be interested in her.

They ride on wordlessly, eventually coming to a stop once the sun begins to set. They set up camp and she is touched by the effort that the four men go to to ensure she has the shelter of a tent and a bedroll to sleep on.

However, she feels too confined as she lays under the canopy, so used to being able to stare up at the night sky, pointing out each of the stars with her sister. She misses her.

Dragging her bedroll out into the open, she places it close to the dying embers of their fire and lays down.

“My lady, what are you doing?” She hears Osferth whisper in the darkness.

“I am not used to not being able to see the sky.” She responds.

When he says nothing, she allows herself to drift off to sleep, feeling the safest she ever has.

Her eyes flutter open as dawn breaks and she is immediately met by the sight of Osferth seated by the burned out fire pit, looking exhausted.

She pulls herself up slightly, rubbing her eyes. “Osferth? You are an early riser.”

He smiles uncomfortably. “Truthfully, my lady, I have not been to bed.”

“Why not?”

“I did not wish to leave you out here by yourself, it’s not safe. I watched over you while you slept.”

Her heart flutters at his admission, an involuntary smile spreading its way across her features, which he returns with a genuine one of his own.

As the weeks pass, she and Osferth become comfortable travel companions. She spends her days leaning into his chest as they travel by horse. They share a waterskin, their fingers brushing ever so lightly as they pass it back and forth. She is unable to help the tingles that dance across her skin at each of his touches. 

Their evenings are spent sitting around a fire, their knees grazing as they sit side by side, exchanging shy smiles and stories. He gives up the use of his tent, laying his bedroll out in the open too - a means for him to rest, but also ensure she is kept safe.

The first time that the group shares ale together, dread gnaws at her stomach. She has witnessed the effects that it had on her father, and does not know how she will cope with that when up against four men instead of just one. To her surprise and delight the mood becomes lighter and jovial as the amber liquid is passed around. She happily accepts and drinks her fill when Osferth passes it to her. He laughs when she grimaces at the taste.

She knows she is falling for him and there is nothing she can do to stop it. She is certain he feels the same way though, there can be no other explanation for how he looks at her, how he treats her.

That is until they stop for a few days in a town. She hurriedly follows Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric, as Osferth rushes over to them, pleading for help.

“He’s mine!”

“No, he’s mine, you bitch!”

“Filthy whore!”

She watches in shock as the two women exchange insults, slapping at each other, until Finan and Uhtred eventually pry them apart.

He has fucked both of these women. Both of them.

“Why do they fight over you?” Uhtred asks Osferth, holding back a red haired woman, who struggles wildly against him.

“I-I’ve no idea, Lord!” He stammers, before swiftly walking away.

But she knows why, and her heart sinks. She turns away, blinking back tears as she chastises herself for being so foolish. She had misinterpreted his friendliness for romantic interest and is now left feeling hurt as a result of her own delusions.

She swipes angrily at her eyes, swearing to herself that she will pull away from him after this, no longer allowing herself to entertain the girlish fantasy that they could ever be more than friends.

His behavior towards her goes unchanged though. He still holds her close as they share a saddle, still allows his fingers to linger against her own whenever they share water or ale, he sleeps outside each night with her, though always on separate bed rolls kept a respectable distance apart. It eats away at her, makes her ache, to endure such closeness and know it will never be anything more. Yet she endures it, knowing the only alternative is to return to a life alone.

It is a warm afternoon as she stands knee deep in the river, bathing. The water is refreshing against her bare skin and, for a moment, her troubles seem far away, running off of her in much the same way that the rivulets of moisture slide down her body.

She turns and catches sight of Osferth on the edge of the treeline, watching her. She has no idea how long he has been standing there for, but he freezes when he sees he has been caught.

While she is a novice when it comes to matters of the heart, she is certain the look in his eye is one of desire. Deciding to be bold, she steps out of the water and back onto the bank, not bothering to retrieve her discarded clothing. If her feelings truly were requited then this was the best way to find out.

She walks towards him, closing the gap between them. She can see his breathing is unsteady as he takes in the sight of her, he is trembling slightly. Leaning up on tiptoes, she presses the lightest of kisses to his lips, and her heart swells as, for the briefest of moments, he reciprocates.

As quickly as his lips meet hers, he is jerking away. “No, my Lady!”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Backing quickly away from him, the familiar sting of rejection piercing her heart once more, she grabs her clothes and runs from him, before he has the chance to say anything else. Tears stream freely down her cheeks, this time she does not try to wipe them away. This is the second time she has allowed herself to be drawn in by Osferth, only to endure heartache.

He has now made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested in her and she decides it is in her best interests to pull away from him entirely.

She forces herself to sleep inside her tent, becoming used to textile above her head, instead of the glittering stars. She sits as far from him as possible at every opportunity. There are no more shared waterskins, their knees no longer touch. If the rest of the group notice the shift in dynamic then they choose not to say anything. She rides with Sihtric, sitting snugly behind him in his saddle, ignoring the pleading looks of sadness from Osferth each day when she climbs onto another man’s horse and not his.

He is just missing her companionship, she decides, he will get over it when they arrive at the next town and he finds another woman to warm his bed. She hardens her heart, allows her sadness to devolve into anger and continues to keep him at arm’s length.

The day they arrive in Coccham, they spend the day at an alehouse. Uhtred has managed to acquire the only two available rooms upstairs for the evening, so they will have the luxury of sleeping in an actual bed for tonight. She is almost giddy with excitement at the prospect.

When they have drunk their fill, they head up the rickety wooden staircase. Sihtric and Finan file into one room, with Uhtred following close behind. He stops in the doorway, turning to her and Osferth.

“Looks like this room is full now. The pair of you can share that one.” He nods towards the door opposite, before closing his own.

Her face blanches. Bastard. He has done this on purpose.

She sighs, pushing past Osferth and stalking into the room. A small double bed takes up most of the space in the narrow confines.

“Oh, fucking perfect.” She spits, rolling her eyes.

Osferth offers an apologetic smile. “I can sleep on the floor, my Lady, I don’t mind.”

She rounds on him, her anger flaring. “I’m surprised you haven’t found another whore’s bed to share for the evening!”

His eyes widen in shock. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You fucked those other women, Osferth!” She shouts, and before she can stop it, her voice is cracking as the dam bursts and she starts to cry. “You’ll put your cock into anyone but me it seems…”

His face softens and he moves to comfort her, but she is quick to push him away. “What’s so wrong with me?!”

He looks guiltily at her. “There is nothing wrong with you, my Lady, I think you’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen actually…”

“But you rejected me! When I tried to kiss you, you rejected me.”

He shakes his head, closing the gap between them and gently grabbing her by the shoulders. This time she doesn’t push him away. “You didn’t give me time to speak.” He explains, looking into her eyes with sincerity. “I wasn’t rejecting you. You deserve better than to be humped against a tree. If you’re to be my woman then I want our first time together to be special.”

She sniffles, her tears subsiding, replaced by confusion. “Your woman? If that is what you wanted then why did you lay with those other women in the last town?”

He sighs, averting his gaze, shame etched across his angular features. “That is not something I’m proud of, my lady. I have wanted you for so long, and been so pent up, I needed a release. I never told you of my feelings because I didn’t think I stood a chance. You are so wonderful and I-I am Osferth. I am simply Osferth.”

Her heart beats wildly against her ribs as she listens to him, staring up at him doe-eyed, unable to resist the grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

“Yes, you are Osferth.” She whispers, leaning up towards him.

When their lips meet he does not pull away. He wraps his arms around her, his mouth moves hungrily against hers in a kiss that is full of need and desperation. They pull at each other’s clothing, months’ worth of built up longing propelling their movements.

When they are both finally naked, Osferth guides her to lay back on the bend and she drinks in the sight of him appreciatively. While he is tall and slender, he is not as skinny as she’d expected him to be, well developed muscles add a broadness to his chest and shoulders. His erection sits hard, thick and heavy at the apex of his slim thighs and she bites back a moan at the sight of it, arousal pooling hot between her legs.

“You really are beautiful.” He murmurs, his gaze flickering over her form as she lays beneath him. “Will you let me show you just how much I desire you, my Lady? I wish for there to be no doubt in your mind.”

She nods, biting her lip in anticipation, waiting to see what he will do.

His hands trace over every curve of her as moves slowly backwards down the bed, stopping once his face is level with her cunt. Spreading her thighs he inhales sharply at the sight of just how wet she is for him.

There is no preamble, and she gasps, arching her back when she feels the flat of his tongue move through her folds.

He whimpers softly at the taste of her, the sound vibrating through her core, his grip on her thighs tightening as laps greedily at her, occasionally dragging the tip to her pearl, causing her legs to tremble.

She cants her hips against his face, noticing how he ruts against the bed as he devours her, his moans of pleasure intermingle with hers and the sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue moving in earnest against her centre. 

As he sucks harshly against the apex of her sex she begins to feel the pressure of her climax building deep within her, her breaths becoming short and shallow. Osferth’s grip on her is almost bruising as the movement of his thrusts against the bed speed up.

With a final swirl against her bud, she falls apart against his mouth, clenching and writhing as he keeps his mouth firmly against her as she cries out in ecstasy, white hot sparks of pleasure rendering her boneless and light headed.

She closes her thighs around his head as he emits a guttural groan against her oversensitive cunny, his own pelvis stuttering against the mattress. 

He appears dazed as he finally looks up at her, eyes hazy and chin shiny with her slick. She is certain she must look similarly bedraggled with how hard he has caused her to peak.

“We may have to wait a moment before we do anything else.” He confesses sheepishly, sitting up and looking down at the blankets where he’d been laying. 

Her gaze follows his line of sight and she sees the mess he has made, a large patch of the bed now sticky with his release.

“You’re lucky we have the whole night then.” She giggles.

He moves to lay beside her, pulling her against him. “Yes, very lucky.”

#osferth #the last kingdom #tlk #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth angst #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth fan fic #the last kingdom fan fiction #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fan fiction #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fan fic #tlk fan fic #tlk fanfiction #tlk smut #tlk angst #the last kingdom smut #the last kingdom angst

[actuallysaiyan]

Wherever I Go, You'll Always Be Next To Me(Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader x Satoru Gojo)

warnings: mentions of sadness, mentions of death/blood, smut, fluff, Satoru has a filthy mouth, Suguru is a needy boy, all characters are 18+, sort of a fix-it fic for Satoru and Suguru, blowjobs, handjob, dirty talking, nudity mentions word count: 2k pairings: Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader x Satoru Gojo summary: Suguru has a very bad dream so he gets comforted by you and Satoru. Not only do you calm his worries about his dream, but you make sure he knows just how much he is loved. a/n: This is for the lovely @beneathstarryskies who is the one who came up with the head canon that Suguru worries that the stink of the curses he ingests must seep through his pores and make him stink.

Suguru sits on his bed, catching his breath. He’s just come home from an intense mission and he fell asleep on his bed. The nightmare he had is just invading his every thought now, and he’s soaked in sweat. It’s still fairly early in the evening, but when he got home from the mission, he was so beat. The bed that usually gives him comfort is now just making him feel so uncomfortable. He runs his fingers through his hair, suddenly so aware of how his hands are shaking.

He’s had this dream quite a few times before, but this one felt much too real. He can always see you and Satoru lying on the ground, blood flowing from the two of you. Suguru always panics whenever he’s deep in this dream. How could anyone harm his two lovers? How could anyone even get beyond Satoru’s Infinity? These are questions that just don’t have any answers within this dream. And as Suguru tries his best to recover from this deep, intense fear of being abandoned, he knows he should try to shake free from it all.

Before he can even get up to go into the bathroom, there’s a light knock on the door. He knows it must be you, but he soon discovers you’re not alone when he hears Satoru’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Suguruuuu~” Satoru calls out, his voice saccharine.

Suguru gets up from the bed, and he opens the door. Both yours and Satoru’s smiles falter when you see just how sleep deprived and scared Suguru looks. You’re the first to take the dark-haired man into your arms, but Satoru is right there as well. Satoru kisses Suguru softly on the temple, murmuring sweet words of encouragement. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask Suguru, and the man begins to shake in your arms. You softly rub his back and Satoru looks at you with lots of concern in his eyes.

“I…I had a bad dream.” Suguru admits with tears in his eyes.

Satoru takes charge in the situation, corralling you all into Suguru’s dorm room. He shuts the door behind you all as you help Suguru sit on the bed. Suguru is shaking as he tries to hold back his tears. This dream had felt so real, and he was so scared to lose both of you.

“Tell us about the dream,” you coax softly. “If you feel comfortable, of course.”

Satoru sits on the other side of your lover, and he begins to run his fingers through Suguru’s hair. The dark-haired man shudders, but his heart feels so full of love once more.

Suguru takes a deep breath before he explains how he fell asleep after the mission. The dream started normally, it had been about you three going on the same mission. And then you all got separated so that when Suguru finally caught up, he was too late. Tears slide down his cheeks as he explains the part about finding you and Satoru on the ground bleeding out. It just pains him to even dream about something like that.

“Shhh…it’s okay, Suguru. We’re right here. We’re not going anywhere,” you say softly, and you kiss him so softly.

He snuggles into your embrace, loving the way you always feel so warm and comforting to him. Satoru feels a knot in his stomach. He hates that Suguru was feeling this way. So he wraps his long arms around the both of you, pulling you both so close to his chest. It doesn’t take long for all three of you to begin crying. You all let it out of your system, just crying and holding one another. Then as soon as it started, it ends softly and you're kissing each other lovingly.

“Time for a shower, yeah?” Satoru suggests, a smile spreads on his face.

Suguru chuckles, “Do I smell that bad?” He looks sheepish as he says this.

You and Satoru know exactly how Suguru feels about his scent. He believes because he ingests the curses he exorcises, he must smell just as bad as those curses. Suguru truly believes the scent seeps through his pores and gets all over him and into his clothes.

You gently cup his cheek and press a kiss to his lips. “No, you don’t smell bad at all. But you’re all sweaty, honey. Let me and ‘toru take care of you, okay?”

Suguru feels his heart in his throat. You two know exactly how to make him feel so loved. He swears he’s about to cry again, but he’s quick to blink away his tears. He nods his head and allows Satoru to help him up.

You follow the pair into the bathroom, and you get quite the eyeful as Satoru takes off Suguru’s soiled clothing. He throws them haphazardly into the hamper. Suguru scolds him for being so reckless, but he’s quick to quiet down. Then you go over and start up the water.

Satoru then undresses you, bringing you into his arms and kissing you gently. He praises you for being so tender and loving, calling you their good girl. Suguru comes over and he helps you take off Satoru’s clothes. Once the shower is the right temperature, all three of you get in.

The water cascades down your backs, making you all moan in pleasure. It feels good to have all your worries washed away. Satoru undoes the hair tie that keeps Suguru’s hair up, and he begins to shampoo the hair. You watch as Satoru’s nails gently rake against Suguru’s scalp.

You press your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them softly. The dark-haired man moans at the attention he’s receiving. The butterflies erupt in his stomach again. Despite how terrifying that dream was, this was making him realize that it was only just a dream. Nothing more. Even if it scared him deeply, it was just a series of pictures from his subconscious. 

“You like that, huh?” Satoru asks in a husky voice. He can feel Suguru’s erection poking his thigh.

Suguru blushes, “Uh…”

You smirk at the white-haired man. This had now turned into something naughtier. You knew you had to lavish Suguru in so much love. You wrap your arms around him, your hands reaching lower towards his crotch. The moment you wrap your soft hand around his cock, Suguru is moaning softly.

“I think he needs to be reminded of just how much we love him,” Satoru announced. There’s an unmistakable mischievousness that is present in his tone.

You smirk again. “I think you’re right, ‘toru.”

You begin to jerk off Suguru, spending lots of time caressing the leaking head. You feel Satoru’s hands joining your own. He’s massaging and fondling Suguru’s heavy balls. Suguru swears he could cum right then and there.

As you both take your time stimulating your troubled lover, you’re both pressing kisses onto his skin wherever your lips can reach. Satoru mumbles filthy words of praise, while you say the sweetest things that makes Suguru blush and his heart skip a beat.

Eventually, this turns back into you and Satoru washing off Suguru. Then you take turns washing each other before Satoru turns off the water. Suguru is clearly still so aroused, and you can no longer deny your own growing need for the pair. You help towel dry your raven haired lover and then you move onto the cocky snowy haired one. He’s got the same idea as you.

The three of you move back into the bedroom, and you gently push Suguru back onto the bed. You’re quick to crawl on top of him, your lips kissing a trail up and down his beautiful body. Satoru joins you, lying next to his best friend. He loves the way you and Suguru look right now, almost both fucked out just from the small amount of pleasure.

“Look how pretty he is,” Satoru says with a grin on his face.

You smile sweetly, “Yes, our Suguru is so pretty.”

Suguru blushes and tries to hide his face by burying it into the crook of Satoru’s neck. But he’s quickly pulled from his hiding place by Satoru who is kissing him passionately. You watch for a moment as they rub tongues together, sharing the hottest open-mouthed kisses you’ve ever seen.

You take this moment to return to jerking off Suguru. He moans into Satoru’s mouth, making the white-haired man groan. This was all working out to your advantage. You’d be able to lavish Suguru in the love and attention he deserves all while being able to watch Satoru and Suguru make out.

“That’s my good girl,” Suguru moans when you wrap your lips around his cockhead.

“Your good girl? She’s our good girl.” Satoru clarifies.

You giggle softly before you take even more of Suguru’s length into your mouth. You can hear him moaning and whining; the pleasure building deep inside of him. He reaches down to gently grip on your hair, but soon he’s bucking his hips and tugging on the roots of your hair.

“You must love her warm mouth, yeah?”

You know Satoru is just trying to rile up your shared lover, but it’s just the sexiest sound to hear him talking this way. You continue to bob your head up and down, trying to match the rhythm of Suguru’s hips. When you look up at him through your lashes, you can see how he’s already fucked out beyond belief. It’s the best sight for you to see right now, as you had been so worried about him when you first appeared at his room door,

“Pretty baby making Suguru feel so good. You’re such a good little cocksucker,” Satoru comments, his hand coming down to caress your face.

“She’s so good at this,” Suguru breathes, his hips stuttering for a moment. He’s never known true pleasure until you and Satoru became his lovers.

For a few moments, the only sounds in the room are Satoru’s filthy encouragements and the wet sloppy noises from you sucking on Suguru’s engorged cock. It’s so sinful and naughty, and you feel your own need for them beginning to grow even more than before. You’re going to need them to have their turn with you right after.

Suguru curses and whines as the pleasure keeps building like a fire deep in the pit of his tummy. His eyes roll back as you once again take all of his length down your throat. The way your tight throat encloses around him has him whimpering like a whore. If he were in front of anyone else, he might be embarrassed. But right now, he’s in heaven.

“That’s it, babygirl. Keep sucking his cock. He’s so close.” Satoru encourages you, pressing his hand on the back of your head to keep you connected to Suguru.

A few more thrusts of his hips and Suguru is begging and pleading to cum down your throat. Just those sounds have you reeling in your own needs and desires.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” Suguru moans. “Please, ‘m so close. Need to cum! Need to fuckin’ cum!”

You continue swallowing him, just wanting to have his thick seed coating your throat. You feel his cock throbbing rhythmically, and soon you feel the telltale signs of his orgasm. He arches his back, gripping your hair with both hands as he begins pumping the first few shots of his cum. Satoru guides him through the pleasure, praising you both for being so sexy and putting on such a show for him. Suguru humps against your mouth a few more times, making sure to give you every last drop of his release. Then you begin to swallow around him, drinking it all up.

Slowly, you pull off of his cock. Satoru grips your chin gently, asking to see your tongue. You open wide, lolling your tongue out completely for both of them to see.

“That’s a good girl, right Suguru?” Satoru asks his best friend. Suguru grins devilishly.

“So good, I suspect it’s her turn to receive…”

Before you know it, you’re on your back on Suguru’s bed and you have both of them on top of you, ready to paw at you.

#bacon.writes #gojo x reader #gojo x you #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #gojo smut #gojo x geto #geto x gojo #gojo x you x geto #geto x you x gojo #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x reader x suguru #suguru x reader x satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #gojo imagines #satoru gojo imagines #gojo satoru x reader

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 3.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Things go from bad to worse.

Master List / Prev chapter

Warnings: 18+, Mild/brief self harm (over-washing), language, peril, first aid/wound care, discussion of terrorism, emotional break downs

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Barely edited, but made with love. Keeping chapters short for quicker updates, so that Soap teaser I dropped will actually be in 4. My bad.

3.

You can’t think beyond my face hurts and I thought I died.

The men to either side have you packed in tight, shoulders pressing against yours, knees bumping with every sway and turn. All four of the soldiers keep their eyes on the passing landscape and the road leading through it. The men only speak to make note of potential tails, to confirm or deny the presence of new threats.

You left London a while back, and you’re in the patchwork of expanding towns spilling out beyond the green belt by the time you regain enough sense to notice.

You see very little. Fewer houses. More fields.

None of it really sinks in. The inside of the car smells like gun oil, sweat, and a coppery stink you know rises from your own clothes. Your own skin and hair and empty nail beds.

You let yourself disappear for a while. For maybe an hour, you let the static blanket your mind like snow. It’s like floating on the top of the lake, and if you break that surface tension, you’ll drown, so you let it blind your senses instead. So long as no one notices you, you don’t have to exist. You tell yourself it’s just for a minute, just for a bit, just until something else goes wrong and you have to remember pain, and fear, and whatever else makes up your life in the moment. The protective blur stretches on forever, and you lose track of time.

An itch pulls you back into your body. Eyes on you. Someone watching.

You glance up, and you meet death’s gaze in the rearview. There are eyes, but no face. Only a skull. For a brief instant you think of trying to jerk awake, like you would in a falling dream, because maybe the reaper isn’t real, unlike every other horror of the day. But then you notice the cloth beneath the bone and the military headgear.

It’s just a man in a mask, the one in the front passenger seat with the rifle you noticed as you piled in behind the Scotsman.

Skull-face blinks slowly, twice, confident you won’t look away while his eyes are closed, patiently enigmatic as a cat.

The SUV turns sharply onto a gravel track, and Skull-face turns back to the window, like he didn’t just stare you down through the mirror.

The uneven jolts as the tires dip into grooves and potholes drives away the last of the static. And you blink, eyes still on the mirror, trying to come to grips with reality.

What the actual fuck?

Around the bend, a farmhouse creeps into view. It sits low over the green turf, unassuming apart from old leaded windows that make it look too much like something out of a cottage core mood board for the situation. This isn’t a space for men with guns and tac vests.

But the man in the bucket hat taps on the brakes, nods, and says, “Ghost, Gaz: clear the house.” He doesn’t change gear. Doesn’t park. Even now, he’s ready for an ambush.

You don’t think the men who grabbed you were capable of thinking that far ahead. They did find the original safehouse, though, so maybe you should be a good civilian and keep those thoughts to yourself.

The Brit who clipped the zip ties off your wrists and helped you out of the warehouse pops out with a “Yes, sir.” So does the grim reaper up front. The doors slam shut again, and the two move in concert, guns raised, sights fixed on the windows and door as they approach. The man in the mask takes point, rushing through the door the instant his colleague turns the knob, and they disappear inside.

You’re uncomfortably aware of… everything. Your breath. The ants roving under your skin. The two men still in the car with you. It’s impossible to sit still, and you peer around your enclosure like a gerbil in a hamster ball – technically safe but in no control. The wind stirs the bushes at the edge of the driveway, and you imagine people behind them who move like your escorts. Cold. Efficient. And they’re already too close.

Your neck strains as you try to see through all the windows at once, struggling to catch a glimpse of doom before it drags you under.

“You broken?”

The leader, the man behind the wheel, must be addressing the Scot. It only registers he’s talking to you when you find said Scot watching you, too. There’s more room in the back now, but you still feel crowded and exposed in a horrible, nonsensical mess.

And – oh, right, the man is talking to you.

“Hey.” He doesn’t look through the mirror. He physically turns, arm over the back of the seat, so he can look you in the eye as he asks again, and his words come slow to your adrenaline-scoured brain. “Are you broken?”

You flounder. Puzzled. That… means what? You’re missing context. Is what broken? No bones. They didn’t – technically – hurt you that badly. Everything will fix itself in time. It could’ve been worse. You know that, even if in the moment all you want to do is sprint to the ends of the earth, find a blanket, and curl up in the darkest corner at the edge of the map.

Is he asking if you’re functional? If you can make it through debriefing?

That must be it.

And, fuck, you’d physically fight all four of them at this point if they tried to stop you from passing on the intelligence you’ve literally bled for.

“No.” You’re surprised by your own conviction (and how little your voice shakes). “Not broken.”

There’s an actual twinkle in his eye – and really, how dare he? – but his approval and the uptick of those bushy, bearded cheeks is the right kind of ridiculous in the moment. The Scot huffs beside you, but you don’t have the bandwidth for any more smirks, twinkles, or other bullshittery, so you keep your eyes forward and hope to fuck someone will tell you what to do. You can only hop between so many distractions before you miss a step and fall into a heaving mess on the floor.

“Good,” says Captain Fishing Hat. He turns back to the wheel just as Skull Face comes back.

The burly man signals, and as the boss finally turns off the engine, he opens the door and reports, “House is clear. Gaz is setting up for debrief.”

Gaz, then, must be the youngest Englishman. The Scot shifts, subtly ushering you out, and you scoot along as instructed, letting the men more or less herd you across the yard, through the door, into the kitchen. They keep their heads on a swivel, and that doesn’t help your nerves. Not at all. But they don’t give you time to stop and angst over it, either.

You find yourself in the kitchen, guided to one of four wooden chairs around a square table. It’s covered in tech. A black case sits open on one of the other seats, and the empty foam imprints inside match the boxes, cables, and laptop before you.

“Ready, Kyle?” Fishing Hat asks.

“Nearly, Captain,” Gaz replies. “Working on the connection now.”

So, Captain Fishing Hat is an actual captain. You aren’t shocked. Maybe in shock, but not surprised.

But as you sit where you’re told and watch the screen illuminate, a realization dawns on you. You won’t be debriefing to these men. Someone else at the other end of this connection is waiting for the whole story, and fear flutters to life in your gut like a startled pigeon. Loud, awkward, probably diseased.

What if you’ve misjudged all this? What if it’s a ploy? The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend, and the proper authorities aren’t the only ones hungry for the information you carry. Stiffening in your seat, you prepare for another fight, lifting the prickly guard you let drop as you knelt in the back of the SUV, clinging to the Scotsman’s tac vest.

Just as you’re glancing at the window over the kitchen sink and wondering if you jump high enough to break through the glass before any of the men grab you, a face appears on the screen, and the woman says your name.

You recognize her. Or at least her voice.

It’s the woman from the phone.

You physically droop against the back of the chair, gasping in relief.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’re going to be okay.

“Glad to see you in one piece,” she says.

“Me, too.” A rasp taints your voice, and you feel the phantom pressure of an arm crushing your trachea.

“Kate Laswell,” she introduces herself. “This is a secure line. Go ahead and tell me what you know.”

It’s easier than you expect. You’ve been thinking so much about everything you need to say, turning over pieces in your head, putting it into clearer words, ordering it by importance, that now it just flows. You lean forward, desperately ready to spill. But just because you’ve gathered everything into a coherent thread doesn’t make it any less painful to acknowledge. It’s like tugging up a string of barbed wire from your gut, pulling it out of your mouth inch by inch. You worry if you have to stop, the blades will lodge in your throat.

The woman is clearly a pro, though, and she saves her questions.

You list names first: people in American alphabet agencies with ties to a particularly violent white supremacist group. If there’s any chance they could be listening, she could end the call and try again in a secure location. But she must’ve guessed something was off when the official safehouse she sent you to was compromised. This time she’s prepared, and she lets you continue.

There’s a bomb, a new alliance with ultranationalists, someone named Makarov. It’s a test. To see if the American terrorists are as good as they say, if they’re worth Makarov’s investment. There’s a promise of more if they get the body count Makarov’s set (thousands).

The man whose blood you’ll always feel, slick between your fingers as you confused the thump of the nightclub’s base with your own pulse, kept his cover long enough to get the details of the attack. Date, location, time, target. He didn’t live long enough to give you more. He gave you what he thought was most important. You hope it’s enough. You hope it’s worth it.

Laswell thinks for a minute, then asks, “Did the men who kidnapped you indicate they knew how much of this information you possessed?”

“No. They, uh – that was the whole point, I think.” You lift you hand, so she can see the missing nails. “They wanted to know how compromised they were before they shot me.”

You say it so quickly it only clicks after it leaves your mouth. They were going to shoot you. You knew that, but away from the rough hands and zip ties it feels surreal. People like you don’t get shot. People like you have car accidents and a few too many fast food dinners for your general wellbeing. But the gun against your head was real. It’s a true thing that just happened, and that means people like you do get shot. Every safe, calm moment in your life looks like a lie, a skewed carnival mirror in retrospect.

People like you get shot.

People want to kill you.

You may still get shot. That’s why you’re in this safehouse with four heavily armed men.

Time isn’t the endless resource you imaged yesterday morning. It isn’t a solid path with clear, expected landmarks with which to gauge your progress. It’s ice, and the patch under your feet spiderwebs with ominous cracks.

You realize Laswell is speaking again.

“- handle the situation Stateside. Your current location is one of my private safehouses. Not on any list. Totally secure. I think it’s best to stay there and treat it as your base of operations for now, Captain.”

The captain, leaning over your shoulder to get in frame, nods. He’s too close without touching you, but no one’s indicated your part in this is finished. So you stay put.

“Rog,” he says.

“The attack is our chief priority, but closing the active cell in England and following their trail back to Makarov is a close second. I already have taps being set on a few of the names on that list.” Laswell says your name, and she clearly tries to soften her war face, but she’s all business right now. “I’m leaving you in the custody of the 141, under Captain Price.”

He gently claps you on the shoulder, like he’s assuming command. “Understood. Keep us in the loop, Kate.”

“Roger that. Keep your heads down. Stay safe. Over and out.”

The feed cuts out, Gaz – Kyle? – closes the laptop, moving the chaos out of the way as the Scotsman appears with a first aid kit. None of the soldiers leave space for an awkward pause. They all have a mission. Somewhere to be. Something to do.

The captain pulls a second chair up beside yours, meeting your gaze with another of his disarmingly charming smiles that crinkles at his eyes. As he and the Scot begin sorting through the kit, he says, “We’re overdue for introductions. Captain John Price.”

He holds out his hand, and you tentatively accept it in a piss poor handshake, but his smile doesn’t break, and he gestures at the Scotsman. “That’s Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, or Soap.”

The sergeant waves with a handful of cotton pads and disinfectant. He points into the corner, where Skull Face lurks. “Grumpy bastard in the corner’s Ghost. He’s a lieutenant. If you were curious.”

No one offers his real name, and you swallow down every question with a vengeance. The names make them seem real, concrete, and you seize the lifeline they’ve thrown.

You make eye contact with the last man, trying to prove you aren’t a sack of potatoes in human skin and have an actual, working brain between your ears. “And you’re Gaz?”

He smiles, reaching over the table to shake your hand in a way that makes you double down on your bet that he’s the youngest. Certainly the least jaded, even if he’s every bit the soldier the others are. “Sergeant Kyle Garrick, yeah.”

Ghost pushes off from the wall and heads back towards the front door. “I’ll take first watch.”

Whether he’ll be watching the road from a sniper’s perch or chilling by a window, you can only guess, but his captain gives him another nod, and off he goes. Sociable as an alley cat.

“Let’s see about that hand, then.” Calloused fingers rasp along the underside of your wrist as the captain lifts your hand into the light. He arranges it carefully on the table, keeping his touch gentle so you don’t feel the raw bands of irritated skin where the zip ties bruised you.

It isn’t like you’re resisting. The bloody nail beds don’t look right, and you’re struggling to believe they belong to you at all. There’s an experiment where people develop an artificial connection to and fear for an artificial hand. You feel like you’re in an opposite test. Your eyes say the hand on the table belongs to you, but it doesn’t feel that way. If the captain sawed it off instead of gingerly spraying antiseptic ointment over the exposed nerves, you might just shrug it off.

The bandages hurt, though.

The pain tugs at your gut, and you rejoin your whole body with a shudder. That hurts, too. You take a deep breath, and your stomach aches. Your free hand squeezes into a fist, and the scabs on your knuckles crack open. When tears flood your eyes, you can only imagine what new agonies they’d summon if you let them fall, so you blink furiously and pretend your eyelashes aren’t so wet they stick together.

As his captain finishes treating your hand, the Scot – MacTavish, Johnny, Soap, whatever the fuck you’re supposed to call him – takes a seat on the table, pinches your chin, and puts one of those little cleansing pads he’d been fussing with to work. It stings like a bitch, and you flinch despite your best efforts.

Still holding your chin, he angles your face up and blows over a series of cleaned scrapes on your cheek. The tiny breeze might as well be a hurricane. It knocks the soul from your body, and you go entirely still, befuddled.

“The fuck, Soap?” Gaz asks.

The Scot huffs, getting back to work with a fresh gauze pad, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “You’re supposed to blow on cuts,” he grumbles, like he’s trying to sound gruff to make up for the accidental sentiment. “So they don’t sting.”

It makes you want to smile. You can’t remember how right now, but maybe you’ll think back to this moment and smile about it later.

“Thanks,” you say instead.

Soap has not forgotten how to smile. “You’re welcome, bonnie. Let me put a butterfly plaster on this, and you’ll be fit as a fiddle again.”

A nice thought, and maybe true for a soldier like him, but every screaming inch of your body informs you this is a lie.

The captain taps your knee, pulling your attention back to the fading crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lifts a finger and leads your gaze from side to side, leaning in close to see if your pupils are the same size. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion. Are you hurt anywhere else? Any risk of internal bleeding? Cracked ribs?”

Gaz, seeing your confusion (because how the fuck would you KNOW if you were bleeding internally?) offers some helpful context. “Did they kick you in the stomach? Any sharp pains in your chest when you breathe?”

Did they kick you? You can’t really remember. Probably. It’s all a furious blur of motion and panic.

“I’m not sure.”

It’s the truth, but it’s a bad one. The captain nods as a wintery flash passes over Gaz’s face. “That’s all right. Let us know if you notice any unusual swelling or new pains, yeah?”

“Okay.”

One more big smile – a bit forced, definitely for show – lifts his whiskers, and he climbs out of his chair, pulling it out of your way.

Gaz steps up to lead you out of the kitchen. You feel like a football – always under someone’s control, being run by one teammate to the next. But what else is there to do to, really? You follow him up a narrow flight of stairs to a pokey hall on the second level. There are three doors, and the first you pass has three twin beds crammed inside. The second is smaller but only holds two beds. And the last door leads to a bathroom. Gaz, clearly used to safehouse etiquette, fishes a washcloth, towel, and little bar of soap out of the deep, dark depths of a cupboard too high for you to reach.

He sets them on the counter in a tidy pile and says, “You really shouldn’t get your bandages wet for forty-eight hours, but I bet you feel like hell. Washing up a little with just the sink might help.”

His big brown eyes fix on you, too soft and looking for some kind of confirmation you’re okay without getting in your face.

Are you broken?

Fuck. They’re all trying to make this normal. What happened isn’t their fault, and they’ve surely seen worse. They probably don’t have to babysit damaged goods after the fact very often, though. The least you can do is try to make this normal for them, too.

“Like a bus ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” You think for a minute and add: “Might’ve been some Nazgul, or cave trolls, or some other shit, too.”

The soldier snorts. A grin catches him by surprise and turns his whole face bright. The effort was definitely worth it.

“Tolkien? I like it.” As he moves out of the bathroom, he points at the smaller bedroom. “Take whatever bed in there you want. Since one of us will be on watch, we probably won’t need the other one. Give you a bit of privacy. Try to get some rest, yeah?”

You can’t imagine how you’ll fall asleep, but you act like his suggestion is as reasonable as it sounds.

“Of course.”

He leaves you alone.

You soak the washcloth in tepid water and peel off your shirt. There’s a countdown of little tasks in your head, ways to delay the inevitable. How long can you linger over the soap and cheap terrycloth? What if you just lock the door and keep wake sitting on the cold floor?

Then you notice your reflection.

You haven’t thought about what you look like. It’s less your face staring back and more a collection of hurts, and you struggle to find yourself through the bruises and bandages.

Everything aches, throbs, or stings. You’re so scared you want to smash your head into the counter just in case it’s like in the movies, and time rewinds, letting you wake up in bed at the hostel with a clear head and free day to play tourist. You know how to do that. Always going, doing, seeing. Always a task, a plan, an idea.

Now your hands are empty – apart from that one fucking piece of glitter you can’t get off between your thumb and forefinger. It winks in the light, and you scrub at it in a frenzy. You clean everything in a rush, too rough with your bruises, but you’re on the verge of a breakdown, and you don’t want to fall apart in anything resembling a public space.

It’s all been too much for too long.

You open the door carefully, peek up and down the hall, wary of minding eyes. Then you nearly trip over your own feet getting into the smaller bedroom.

Door shut.

Shoes off.

Everything else stays on, every layer between you and the world outside a blessing as you bury yourself alive under a stiff, scratchy blanket that probably came from a secondhand shop two decades ago. Your breath catches when you breathe in, like you’re choking on the stuff you need to live. The air bubbles out in gasps. Painful. On the verge of sobs. But that would be too loud. You must be quiet and still or something awful will find you again.

It's a good thing tears are silent. You soak the flat pillow with them, hiding in the dark under the covers.

Impossibly, you do sleep. It takes a while, but your body screams for rest, and it pulls you deep as you cry yourself out into nightmares of voices arguing just behind your head, and eyes that send beams of light around shadowed walls.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #141 x reader #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction #fanfiction

[darkphoenix07]

could u do a yunho reaction / comforting reader who has cptsd related to sexual abuse? i know it might be vv uncomfortable to write about so it's okay if u don't feel comfortable with it, but i wanted to try my luck 🥺

Yunho helps you after being assaulted

Links :

Masterlist

Ateez Mental health request

Paring : Yunho x Reader

Genre : Angst, Confort

Warning : Sexual Assault, Blood, Manipulation, Blackmail, Cursing, Self Harm, Suicide. Please don't read this if you aren't uncomfortable. It's horrible so I will love it if the one who requested it reads it only.

To the girls who needs comfort for getting assaulted

Your neighbor who is six years older than you had been stalking you for a month by now. You informed police but they didn't find any evidence or you being harmed which is why they made no response. So, you didn't see that coming which was about to make your life upsidedown.

Electricity was gone when you were going to your house by stairs. Like all the other nights, his eyes were on you and you didn't even know. He dragged you, took you in his house, forced himself on you and blackmailed you to stay quiet or else he would hurt your boyfriend, you had to believe him because he knew everything about you. It was a cold obsession of his for you which you were unaware of. But now that you know, you couldn't do anything. You had to go with him in his car, his house and everywhere he told you to.

You kept avoiding your boyfriend for a whole week because he had eagle eyes, he would know right away that you had been sleeping with someone else. You weren't allowed to let him know, it could put his life in danger.

Like every other day, your neighbor assaulted you and let you go to your house, with bruises on your body and lips. Even your nose was bleeding as you begged him to stop but instead of stopping he hit your face with his fist.

You were done more with yourself than him. He was diabolical and you were feeling like a masochist for not being able to do anything. You just let him do anything he wanted to wether it was your mouth or something else.

As you got home and locked yourself, you stare at big mirror of your house that Yunho gifted for you. You don't know how to face the girl in front of you as she had scars on her wrist, palm and lips. Well, you gifted yourself all these marks because his marks didn't feel enough to punish you and also you wanted to get rid off his touches.

Why are you even living? You thought as you lifelessly stare at your filthy self. You feel like you're stinking, most importantly you smelled like him. It was too much to take.

You take your electrical razor and take off your dress. Running the razor on every part possible, you fall on the ground until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry Dad. I'm so fucking sorry Yunho. I can't live this way," you throw the razor away because it wasn't enough for you to perish. Maybe you are a coward which is why you haven't been able to kill yourself yet, maybe you are a masochist which makes you hate yourself even more.

You want to go upstairs but you are too dizzy to walk. So instead of that method, you take a knife from the kitchen and try stabbing your wrist. You try so hard to reach deep so your veins are cut. But they don't feel enough. As you try to slit yourself again, you feel a hand on yours.

Sitting on the cold floor, alone by the sofa, you feel your blood going cold as you look at the person behind you.

"Y/n," you start trembling hearing him.

"What the fuck are you...oh my god... There is too much blood. God, fuck... Look at me, love," he screams your name shaking you.

His eyes get bigger as he notices your whole body covering in blood, less than your wrist.

"Fuck, no... Please don't do this to me," he says as he takes you in his arms.

"I gotta call an ambulance, damn it," he says starting to leave but you call him.

"Yunho, don't call," you tell him feeling cold sweats falling from your skin. You didn't know that your mother gave the spare key of your house to him because he was worried sick about you.

He watched you with your neighbor and for sometimes he thought you wanted to leave Yunho and go for that guy. But your behavior seemed very fishy, your tired voicemail, your avoiding video calls.

"Don't you dare say a word. I am coming," he tries to leave again but you need to stop him.

"They will know if you take me. I don't want them to know. Don't take me to hospital," that is the last thing you tell him before passing out in his arms.

"Y/n!!! Shit, shit, shit," Yunho panics more as he hugs you in his arms, "Don't you fucking die on me."

He keeps trembling as he takes you in his arms and keeps your unconscious body in your bed.

As he grabs his phone from the table, he falls on the ground seeing his hands full of blood, your blood. It scares him. What if he loses you, what if you disappear from his life forever? No, he won't let it happen. He will protect you at any cost, he thinks calling his family doctor home.

The whole time he keeps his pressure on the cut but he doesn't understand how to stop the bleeding of other places. You look so pale like someone has sucked all of your blood out of you. He doesn't understand why you had to do it.

Until doctor comes and gives you stitches, tells him to be careful with you because there was scratches all over you and your lips.

After waking up, you see him staring at you. You get scared seeing him beside you, on your bed.

"Stop it, stop," he tries to control you but you keep shaking your head.

"Don't do it anymore. Give me some break. I beg you, I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please stop it," moving behind to hide from Yunho who isn't looking like Yunho in your head, you fall on the floor.

As you fall, the saline stick starts falling on you but Yunho grabs it by one hand looking at you in horror, "Baby, I am Yunho. Can't you recognize me? It's me, your sweetheart. Please stop, stop doing this to me. It hurts."

He leaves the saline and sits in front of you as you hug your knees hiding your face from him.

"I am sorry, I misunderstood you. I didn't know he has been hurting you. I am so sorry," he says softly so you don't panic anymore but you are still trembling, the scent of the sinner, his touches, his curses are all inside your head repeating itself like there are no stoping.

"Baby, please look at me once. Look at me closely," he tells you and you slowly face him, your eyes full of tears, your lips trembling and you are a sobbing mess.

"Can I touch you?" He asks crawling towards you slowly and you nod.

He has gone numb looking at how broken you are, how messed up you look.

As he gathers your pieces into his arms, you feel something warm filling you with softness and stops the chaos inside your head in instant. He doesn't leave you with one single hug, he breathes in you and let you breath. You can smell how good he smells, how perfect he looks, how softly he is holding you.

After feeling safe inside his arms, you break down in his arms starting to feel every emotions that you thought you've lost.

He hugs you closer, slowly paces his hands on your back being able to touch all of the bandages on your back. If he was in front of you, your tears would melt with his because he can't stop crying feeling guilty for not being able to protect you.

He feels like a failure, unworthy of your love.

"What happened? Tell me the truth or else I'll make him say everything," he asks you after some days as he brought you to his home for keeping you safe.

You know how stubborn you are, you tell him everything one by one and end up trembling, throwing up. He helps you to vomit rubbing your back, washes your face and brings you to bed.

You don't remember when was the last time you walked on the floor by yourself because he carried you all the time, fed you like a kid, changed your bandages by himself, stayed with you all the time making you feel like the safest person.

"No one can hurt me. Do you get it? No one. You don't have to give yourself up for protecting me. Look at yourself, look what you've done to my baby," he tells you, gives you the nicest scolding and for the first time you smile in front him.

He hugs you again and kisses you on the forehead, "I've taken care of him. He will die soon."

"What have you do-" you start to ask but he puts a finger on your lips, "No question. Tell me what can I do for you to make you feel good. Do you want to go somewhere far away? Beach House? Anywhere, I'll take you anywhere, love."

"I want to stay home with you for a while. Can we do that?" You ask him, scared of him saying no that he has works.

But he makes you straddle him and touches your forehead with his, "I'll be home with my baby and kiss every part of you until you forget everything about the past weeks."

And he does, he takes care of you, moulds you into a new version of you as you get well.

[ To the people who got assaulted by someone. You did nothing wrong. It was them, they were wrong for doing this to you. So, don't think you are filthy or unworthy of love. You deserve more love for only surviving, doesn't matter what you did to survive this. So, thank you for surviving. You are doing a great job. ]

#ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez yunho #ateez hongjoong #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez woosan #ateezedit #ateez icons #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez reactions #ateez #wooyoung smut #choi san fanfic #san angst #yunho angst #yunho moodboard #yunho fluff #yunho scenarios #yunho smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho icons #ateez park seonghwa #ateez jonho

[thatfilthyanimal]

tw: stalking, grooming, pedophilia, sexual abuse, past suicidal thoughts

I've recently been made aware that Dupsy is still talking about me and is now going to random Megamind fans that don't know me and telling them to avoid me. I'm also aware that they're doing this in the Ruby Gillman fandom. I have no words to really describe the level of discomfort this brings me, but I will attempt.

First of all, all the "grooming" allegations were thoroughly debunked and proven to be bullshit. I can't believe I have to even say this. I'm a victim of grooming and sexual abuse myself. It's extremely traumatic and life-altering shit, and never something I would want to inflict on someone else. I feel like it should be obvious, with the measures I took in the server to ensure no child is exposed to such things. I was recently diagnosed with PTSD due to the shit that happened to me when I was growing up, and between processing that in therapy sessions and stomaching transitioning in a near-constant hostile-to-trans-people online social media hellscape, I am tired.

I love Megamind, more than anything, and this is known and obvious to anyone who's met me. This movie saved my life when I was extremely suicidal and planning to end my life back in 2010. Watching the movie when I did gave me something to focus on, a distraction, and a responsibility as a fandom member that helped distract me long enough to get out of the planning mindset I was in. Had I not seen the movie, I do not think I would have stuck around. I will leave it at that.

And moderating fandom spaces for Megamind has been lovely! I adore this fandom. The people in it are extremely talented and sweet, and just so damn nice, like by default. I say this all the time but I've never experienced another fandom space quite like it. There are usually bad eggs in fandoms, and perhaps -I- am said "bad egg" to some, but genuinely this one is special. I have always felt that way, even when the bad eggs show up and make a stink. It has always felt worth being here for, to me.

And while I hate to give Dupsy the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me, I need to be honest-- it's been rough. I stopped talking in my server, I locked up on most of my friends and stopped talking even in DMs. I still struggle with severe anxiety in the server and have talked to Dal on various occasions about transferring the server ownership to him. He's been very patient with my freakouts and super understanding, but it's still hard. This WAS a place I felt safe, for over ten years! And now it feels like any minor can just say I'm a groomer or a pedo or whatever with ZERO consequences, just because they're mad, just because these are words that make people go "oh shit" and listen, and man! It's not ok! And this coupled with the fact that trans people are often called groomers just for existing, just… man! I'm tired. I'm so tired.

There are real, severe, damaging effects to these claims being thrown around so casually. It's hurtful to me, as a victim of sexual abuse, because when I came forward to people about what happened when -I- was a minor, I was told I "wanted it" and "asked for it". It was made to be my fault that I was abused, and I internalized it for years. It nearly killed me. I cannot stress enough how important it is to not use claims like pedophilia and grooming so lightly-- these are VERY damning terms to use on people and should be reserved for people ACTUALLY HARMING OTHERS. Being mad I banned you from the server is not "abuse" and using my Customer Service Voice to be nice to you and then being obviously tired of you when you were banned is not "emotional grooming". What the actual fuck. ALSO. This was well over a year ago! Why am I still having to post about this? Why are you still TALKING about me? And yet again I ask, where the HELL are your parents?

Anyway, if you've been wondering why I've been so quiet these days and struggling to socialize… honestly? It's this. I hate that this is what did it. I know people trust and believe me, I know the fandom backs me up regularly and I appreciate them all so much for it. I see it, but I never know how to respond. You guys continue to make this fandom feel safe for me even when my entire brain is screaming to run, and I appreciate you so much for it.

Kids deserve to be trusted when they tell people they've been hurt and I hate that the recent proshipping discourse or whatever you want to call it, this culty all-or-nothing shit, has a bunch of minors growing up feeling like EVERYTHING is something to call rapey or predatory, with apparently little room to distinguish when REAL abuse is happening to them. I don't blame anyone for believing Dupsy, and it's honestly better they DO believe all unproven claims of abuse by default, just to stay safe-- but man, it has consequences that follow people, and really should not be a thing to just throw around because you're mad at someone. I just can't believe they're STILL going around and reaching out to strangers telling them to avoid me… like, what the fuck.

I will be ok, I always am eventually, but I needed to say something, because it's honestly been a while since I've said much of anything.

Keep being kind. <3

#trigger warnings in post #Megamind #Ruby Gillman #RGTK #personal #sorry if you have no idea what the heck is happening #continue scrolling its all good #but also maybe uhhhhhh avoid this minor #like a lot

[eldritch-spouse]

Why do I want to be one of Syb's unfortune game victims...I shouldn't, but dammit PiNniE

[Oh come now, that's just an indicator of good taste, in my humble opinion. Fem reader. This is a shortie.]

TW: Gore; Noncon.

Sybastian doesn't like to think of himself as a particularly cruel mimic. Yes, he's also not an exemplary, morally righteous monster by any stretch of the imagination, but he's not villanous, he doesn't go out of his way to cause misery, to harm and genuinely torment.

Unless he's in the escape floor.

See, Vinnel has many tricks up his sleeve, and one such involves tapping into people's most violent impulses, their less than sightly desires. All he had to do was show Syb how much fun he could have there, in a perfect hunting ground with lots of wide and bulky furniture for him to blend in with. He could do anything, free of consequences, and be rewarded for indulging like the beast others perceive him to be. The mimic won't lie, he felt a little guilty at first, most escapists aren't that crafty, he could very easily tear their limbs off and end their lives, hang them up for the surviving ones to see and become paranoid, let the stench of their terror lead him to gruesome victory.

But nowadays, Syb's conscience is mostly clear of burdens. This is part of his job, after all. He can enjoy himself, why shouldn't he?

Your kind of participant, well, unwilling participant, is his favorite. Frightened, shaking little lamb, but clever! Oh so clever! You can lockpick, you spot the details the jester spent so much time trying to hide, you're nimble and your reflexes are commendable, for a human.

Even still, even with so much talent- You are fighting a losing battle without even knowing it. Your game partners have been eliminated, the entire floor stinks of ichor and steaming guts, you're aaaaall alone, and you've yet to find Sybastian even once. How cute, how adorable.

You've walked past the aged armchair a couple of times now, hearing the mimic sniff at your skin and getting startled, but never being able to tell where the sound comes from. Where your pursuer is. Sometimes he inches from side to side, and yet you never spare him a second glance. Whatever could be off-putting about a lavender armchair, right? To think that's what's been killing you off one by one is ludicrous!

Poor little thing. Smart as a street rat, though smartness and intelligence are two entirely different concepts. And you, dear muse, haven't put two and two together yet.

Oh, this is Sybastian's favorite part of the game. The final one. The final prey. Logically, when there's only one target around, what's the point in hiding anymore? No one else can see him, no one else can inform the others. It's just you and him, and you're not close to getting those locks off the main door anytime soon.

The fear in your expression as you witness the inconspicuous armchair twist and mold its mass into Sybastian's usual chest-headed form is priceless -Ah, he never tires of it- was quickly accompanied by miserable realization. And a tardy reaction speed. Really, how pitiful, you hardly make it out of the faux living room before he's got a gaunt hand curled around your ankle.

It would be a shame to kill you. Cute thing. Cute rabbit with your heart hammering so loud he can almost taste the blood pumping through it.

You're the last, you're the best, he'll give you a reward, since there's no rush anymore.

There's nothing that can prepare you for the eventuality of Sybastian's claws tearing indiscriminately at your clothes. As he pointed out before, you're not stupid, so you know exactly why he's carelessly undressing you. So quick-witted are you, that it takes little time before you glance at his half-heartedly tied loincloth, finding it already tented and wet with the mimic's precum, his anticipation- Sybastian waited to have you, he was nice. The monster rips the worn cloth off as well, letting you have an eyeful.

He finds your scream of distress predictable as soon as your bottom half is lifted by two spidery yet abnormally strong hands. And yes, while he will enjoy bouncing you on his cock until you're too crazed to make sense, bending you over every piece of furniture in the room, he knows where he wants to start things-

By sampling you pretty wet cunt, of course.

" ... Ssmile. " He rasps, making your small heart freeze for a moment as he points up, towards hidden cameras. You tear up in horror and humiliation, making his dick throb.

" Pretty girl... "

His final girl.

#Sybastian oc #tw noncon #tw gore #yandere monster #monster smut #monster x reader #terato

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ignoring my suicidal friend?

Me (f, 23) and my friend (f, 21) have both liked the same girl (f, 23) for a few years and we are all coworkers at the same workplace. Everything was fine until recently the girl in question started showing some interest in me (she asked my friend if I was single, takes shifts for me, brings me food sometimes, etc.)

Obviously I was very happy and i asked my friend if she could sort of be my wingman and tell the girl that I had liked her for a while, since I was not really comfortable telling her myself (im very shy and i wasnt 100 percent sure the interest was real or I was just seeing what I wanted to see)

Anyways, the my friend refused to text the girl, which i understood because she also liked her, makes sense right? I said it was fine, she didnt have to, and that i would talk to her myself. Well my friend went off on a rant about how selfish i was and how i better not talk to the girl at work or she would report me to our boss for stealing. I was kind of put off but the next day things were fine, i didnt talk to the girl though because i was a little worried my friend might do something ridiculous.

About a week later i dyed my hair just for kicks and my friend started talking to the girl about how horrible it looked and saying i looked even uglier now than before and the girl actually stood up for me and said she thought i looked fine. Got the stink eye from my friend for the rest of the day. That night she texts me and says she is going to kill herself if i dont back off. Obviously i didnt want her to kill herself, and i truly think she would, shes been suicidal for a long time, so i didnt know what to do. I quit that job (i had an offer somewhere else that i had been debating anyways) and have been ignoring her ever since (about a month), but i am still texting the girl. I really like her and honestly, ive known her for a few years and i think she could be the one, but if i go after her my friend might do herself serious harm. I really hope she's ok, but i am kind of tired of her behaviour and threats. If she texts me threatening to kill or hurt herself one more time i am not responding. I ignore all her calls too. Personally i think its straightup manipulative behaviour and im sick of her always trying to get what she wants. I wish she would just stop trying to make me feel guilty for being happy.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #reddit #suicide cw

[anniebear-92]

Paw Prints

First, I would like to apologize for the delay between the last chapter and this one. I had a lot going on in my life recently and have not had the ability to get this posted. I had it mostly written but again life happened to push it back. I have decided that I will be doing Five total parts to this so if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know. Thank you again to everyone who has shown me love on these posts. They mean the world to me!

Previous Chapters: Part One Part Two

Part Three: Returning home after a stressful day at school you find a complete stranger on your couch. Talk about icing on the cake! Maybe we'll finally get some answers around here!

Warnings: Slight reference to a NSFW object and an act if you squint. Otherwise SFW

To say it had been a day would be an understatement.

You had gone through a multitude of tests, had your lovely piece of crap break down on you only to come home and find an intruder on your couch! A, handsome, muscular… semi naked one that had fluffy ears nestled in his sandy blonde hair and a tail that flicked behind him in faux anger. Reminding you immediately of a certain feline that seemed to be MIA at the current moment.

"Who the hell are you?"

His head tilted slightly as the blanket loosely hung around his hips began to slide, revealing more and more ever so slowly than you needed to see. A look of pure confusion crossed his features as you snatched your bag back up and held it out in front of you when the blanket finally slipped in full as a makeshift barrier to avoid seeing way more of the stranger than necessary.

"What do you mean who am I? I'm Bakugo you idiot!"

Blinking you quickly scanned the area for any hide or hair of the little ball of terror that was normally greeting you at this moment when you returned. Take a few deep calming breaths your gaze returned to his with a skeptical expression of your own.

"You're my cat? Or rather you're a cat?"

His thick arms crossed over a bare chest, your eyes struggled to maintain contact with his own striking pair that narrowed at the implication he was a liar.

"Of course I'm a cat! I'm not your or anyone's pet! You just happen to feed me and let me sleep here!" He threw his arms around during his little outburst while you attempted to keep the bag in your view at all times for modesty.

"Alright! Alright! Can you please just at least put the blanket back around you for now?"

Finally breaking into his annoyed rambling he paused after a brief moment and with a quick roll of his eyes snatched the blanket to wrap around his waist. You slowly lowered the bag with a grumbled thank you and dropped it beside you, completely uninterested in it after the day's events.

You began moving forward towards the large cat eared man, eyes searching him for any indication of his intent to harm you. Though his face set in a scowl was a bit off putting you did not get the sense of any immediate danger.

You slowly sank into the arm chair beside the couch, your hand running over your features in pure exhaustion.

"Are you ready yet? You fucking stink."

Peeking through your fingers you found the tall man looming above you, dropping your hand with a gasp in surprise he huffed at your reaction.

"This is routine by now why are you freaking out? You come home smelling like shitty dog and I make you smell tolerable!" He shifted his stance to lean forward, his nose twitching as his right ear flicked in pure annoyance. The tip of his tail peeked out from under the blanket, curling and uncurling to show he wasn't as annoyed as he let on.

"I don't understand the dog reference? I haven't seen or pet any dogs today… But that's beside the point! Where the hell is my cat? Seriously!"

Crossing your arms you glowered up at the stranger who let his head fall back with a groan. After a moment he leaned down, both of his large hands gripping the arm chair on either side of you as he thrust his face into yours. His already raspy voice lowering to send shivers down your spine as he emphasized.

"I. Am. Your. Cat."

Your breath made itself as scarce as your missing feline, eyes frantically searching for any hint of deceit from the man a little to close for comfort. You squeaked in response as he audibly sniffed, the skin wrinkling around his nose in disgust until he stood to full height once again before he turned and began marching towards the kitchen, grumbling all the while.

"Fucking hell, coming in here smelling like dog, yelling at me and treating me like you don't know me."

Now that "Bakugo" was out of your personal space, you took a deep inhale to refill your screaming lungs. You peeked over the backrest of the chair, watching as the blonde haired man began digging into the cupboards, throwing out onto the ground objects with a clang that he deemed not worthy of his interest.

What for the love of sweets is going on??

You quickly stood from your seat now taking the opportunity to actually search for your missing cat and prove that the man currently rummaging through your kitchen was actually some crazy cosplayer or something in order to report to the authorities. Disappearing from the living space you began searching high and low, in his normal hiding spots and ones you had yet to find him in the off chance he had taken to new habits while you were gone. Today was one for weird occurences so why not?

Failing in your search thus far you were interrupted by a clearing of the throat, turning while on your hands and knees to peer under the bed. He cocked a brow as he stood with arms crossed and a bewildered expression.

"The hell you doin'?"

Letting out an embarrassed chuckle you stood and brushed off your legs as you avoided gazing back at your handsome intruder.

"Looking for something…" He clicked his tongue while leaning against the doorframe.

"Your cat?"

Giving him a sheepish look he rolled his eyes before exiting the doorway and returning back down the hall for the banging to resume in the kitchen.

Chewing your lip you began digging into the closet for now, behind a few objects here and there you found the item of your search. A box you had stuffed into the back at the beginning of your vacation a few weeks prior. Inside were some old clothes from the times your ex would stay over that you had yet to make plans for returning just yet. Though he was nothing near the size of the blonde man claiming to be your pet, your search through the garments brought a pair of silk basketball shorts with drawstring should be a better fit for now than your couch throw blanket.

For good measure you made a stop at the dresser to pull out the largest shirt you owned, which had made a good sleep shirt for many years. At least he would be properly covered when you inevitably called the authorities to pick up the cat accessory wearing man and could return your blanket where it belonged… after a good wash.

You leaned around the corner to peek at what your "house guest" was doing still in the kitchen to find him chopping away at some vegetables you had just purchased the previous evening, a steaming pan sat on the stove with some ingredients already added inside. The smell that hit your nose almost drug an involuntary noise from you at the wonderful aroma. You were mesmerized for a few moments as you watched him move, the expanse and contract of the muscles in his shoulders and back with the chopping movements of the knife in his hand. He really was attractive… for an intruder.

Gathering your nerves you padded into the kitchen while avoiding the land mines of objects he had tossed onto the floor without care. You cleared your throat to catch his attention after a few moments of silence. To your surprise he didn't speak or acknowledge your presence in any shape or form. Trying once again, he finally gazed at you out of the corner of his eye while dumping his freshly chopped haul into the pan of sizzling sauce.

"You got a hairball or something?"

Blinking for a moment you shook your head at the audacity. "No uh.. Here. I brought you something to wear other than… That." Offering the clothing you gestured to the blanket that still hung low on his hips, his eyes alternating between your own and the garments that hung from your fingers.

"No thanks." He turned his attention back towards the hot stove leaving you sputtering in disbelief.

"Wasn't a question sir! I need you to put this on, you're not wearing any clothes and I will need my blanket back eventually. You can keep them, I don't need them anymore."

His long fingers turned the burner down to a simmer before turning and shooting a glare. "What do I need those for?"

Letting out a breath in annoyance you lifted the clothes while gesturing to your own. "To cover up? Modesty? Pick one I don't care at this point. You're in my house claiming to be my cat and you're naked! Either put on the clothes to be dressed when the police arrive or they'll have to just take you to jail like that!"

He cocked a brow, adjusting his stance to something a bit more relaxed.

"You still don't believe me do you?" Shaking your head and then your hand holding the clothes he finally groaned in annoyance. "Fine!" Snatching the clothes from your hand he dropped them on the counter beside you and began working at the knot holding the blanket around his slender waist. You let out a yelp that had him freezing to look at you, failing your hands you began yelling. "Go change in the bathroom! Or my room! Not here!"

He huffed as the ears on his head flattened, "You have to be so fucking picky? Whatever makes you happy!" Grabbing the clothes from the counter he began stomping towards the hallway leading to the restroom, grumbling all the while. You could barely catch his words but it sounded something like "Been naked here this entire time… now its a problem."

While your guest changed in the other room, you began snooping through what he had been working on before you interrupted. From the visual and aroma alone, your mouth watered in anticipation as you stirred the sauce in the pan. With a quick glance to make sure he was not stomping back out yet, you grabbed a spoon and took a small sample to shove in your mouth.

A groan escaped around the spoon at the flavors that exploded on your tongue. Okay, for a crazy guy who broke into your apartment… he knew how to cook.

"Does it meet your expectations, your majesty?"

The spoon slipped from your fingers and hit the ground with a clang as you rounded to find the culprit behind you. Your sleep shirt fit him perfectly even with a slight strain around the biceps and across the chest. How could this man make those silk shorts look ten times better than your ex ever did??

He snapped you out of your thoughts by shaking the blanket in your field of vision, your hands reaching out and taking it. You mumbled a thank you before skedaddling past him and throwing it in the washer while he returned to his work in the kitchen. Upon returning you found him spoon in hand, using it to point towards your dining table for emphasis.

"I'm making Mapo Tofu, sit your ass at the table and I'll explain when this is done."

With the promise of finally figuring out what the hell was going on you sat as you were told and watched him like a hawk. Telling yourself you were making sure he wasn't going to poison or drug you, the fact that he was insanely attractive moving around the kitchen like he owned the place had absolutely no affect on you…

He placed a steaming plate in front of you and handed you chop sticks before taking a seat himself on the other side of the table. You gave a brief thanks while inspecting the food you could only describe as a culinary work of art, looking worlds better than anything you have ever produced from this kitchen. "Bakugo" on the other side of the table began eating before you even got your first bite in. He used his fingers and raised the bowl to his mouth, ignoring the spare set of chopsticks he had brought out. Picking up your own pair, you gathered the nerve to finally take a bite. Now that everything was all completed you could taste the love and care he put into putting this meal together, maybe he was a chef when he wasn't breaking into people's homes?

A few bites in you stole glances at him while he chewed his own, his gaze locked on you as you waited patiently for him to hold up his promise of giving you the full details. Taking one final bite, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before those striking eyes locked back with yours. You tossed a napkin to him, his body leaning away as if the item would bite him. A deep sigh left you as you pointed to it and then his arm, he rolled his eyes before wiping down his arm and tossing the cloth behind him. You grit your teeth when he spoke.

"Alright what do you want to know?"

You finished your current mouthful before setting down your utensils and interlaced your fingers. "I want to know who you really are, and why you're in my home. You say you're my cat but that's impossible. So.. Who are you and where is my cat?"

He tapped the table with the tip of his finger as his ears twitched, his tail flipping behind him revealing his annoyance beyond his stoic expression. Taking a deep breath he pointed the finger that had been tapping at you as he spoke.

"Listen up you, because I'm going to tell you this once. You're the first human I've revealed myself to so you better listen good! I AM Bakugo. I am a hybrid and have the ability to transform into a cat at will. I was on my own since birth after being separated from my mother. As a kitten I had been picked up from the streets and lived with some extras for a long while until they kicked me out a couple years ago, all because they had a new baby that was clearly more important and god forbid they take care of the pet they've had for years. Shocker."

He leaned back, his eyes trailing away from you as he crossed his arms. His sharp jaw set as he continued, "After I was kicked out I lived on the streets for some time. I was fine on my own and made some friends with some locals… eventually the elements got the better of me and I got sick. Really sick, more so than I ever have been in my life. I couldn't change back, I was stuck in my cat form for the longest time. I attempted so many times to get help, but humans are not always the kindest to strays."

He spit the final words while returning his gaze to yours, his eyes visibly softening as he continued.

"Then you found me and it all… changed."

Listening to his tale you could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke of the family that had abandoned him.

Who would abandon their pet over a child? He could shift between human and a cat?

"So you're really Bakugo?" He nodded, ear twitching as he took another bite of his tofu.

"Originally they called me Katsuki. So I guess I could go by either." You nodded, "So your full name would be Katsuki Bakugo." He shrugged in response, opting to eat his food instead of continuing the conversation.

"So if you really are my cat, why did you chose now to turn back and reveal yourself to me if you never have before?"

He chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes before he set his bowl down once again. "To be honest I didn't have a choice. I had recovered enough finally that my body had apparently returned to the state I could choose my forms again. I woke up just moments before you opened the door and didn't have the time to change back. I only realized my human form when you screamed your head off about stranger danger or some shit."

You snorted as you took your final bite, noticing for the first time the orange and black collar you had gotten him some time ago sitting snuggly around his neck. How had you not noticed that before? "Isn't that tight?" You questioned pointing at your own neck as he eyed you. "A bit, I loosened it earlier."

This guy had to be nuts… right? He cant really be a cat… shifter? Hybrid is that what he called himself? Deciding on a test you crossed your arms while leaning back into your chair. "So if you're really my cat… tell me something that only my cat would know."

He gave the most "Are you serious?" Look as you cocked a brow, clearly proving you were exactly that. He interlocked his fingers and leaned forward with a smirk on his lips.

"You sing, horribly, mind you in the shower." Your jaw dropped, eyebrows lowering to find the audacity this man had. You had perfect pitch!

"You tend to eat sweets in bed, especially a pint of ice cream while watching your favorite show and telling yourself that you'll go for a jog in the morning to work it off… that never happens. You procrastinate your school work until the last minute, dance in the mirror wearing only your underwear when you think no one is looking and last week you dropped a shirt from your laundry basket then picked it up with your toes because you were too lazy to bend over." He finished while sitting back and looking quite smug with himself. You however were unimpressed. "That just sounds like a lot people living alone. Nothing too specific towards me that only my cat would know."

His smirk dropped into a scowl as he searched your face, clearly trying to come up with something only he would know. A slow devious smile crossed his face as he lowered his hands to the table. "Fine, you want to play that game? You have a mole on your left butt cheek, the other day you called me the only man in the world worth a damn and wished I was a real person because you'd marry me. Then that night I yelled at your door until you let me in and you were quick to open your second drawer in the night stand to put away your vi-"

"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH I BELIEVE YOU!" You quickly cut him off while covering your heated face, turning away while burring your face in the neck of the sweater you wore.

"So should I call you fiancé?"

You shot the Cheshire grinning cat a nasty glare as he popped the final piece of chicken into his mouth. You ran your hands vigorously over your face as you took in everything that had occurred in the last few hours. The buzzing of your phone made you jump a bit, you peered at the flashing screen to read the name of your red haired best friend. Swiping your thumb you answered the call as Bakugo watched you closely.

"Hey Kiri what's up?"

Grumbles so low from the cat across from you interrupted before the redhead could even speak. "Fucking mutt." You cocked a brow making a mental note to ask him about that after the phone call when said best friend spoke.

"What's wrong with you?"

Damn him for catching the weariness in your tone of voice.

"Nothing Kirishima, what did you call for?"

"I got your car fixed. I'm going to drop if off shortly okay?"

Bakugo slammed his hands down on the table, making you fumble the phone before slapping your hands together and catching the phone just before it hit the ground. "No!"

Lifting the phone you could hear Kirishima's distant voice asking if you were okay. Putting the phone back to your ear you shot the cat eared man a confused glance and he shook his head quickly, ears flopping back and forth.

"Sorry, dropped my phone. Cat startled me."

He chuckled a bit "Was that a guy I heard? If you have someone over you could just say that."

Your jaw about hit the floor as you backpedaled. "No! No guy, Bakugo just scared me!" It really wasn't a lie…

"It's okay, you need this after our stressful week at school. I'll bring it by tomorrow. You kids have fun!" The redhead disconnected the call after his sing song tone and you stared at your home screen in disbelief.

This day was so fucked.

"The fuck is your problem?" You snapped, eyes finding the messy haired blonde who shrugged. He picked at his teeth with one of his longer nails, "My house, no dogs allowed."

Taking a deep breath you pinched the bridge of your nose. "First, I'm pretty sure this is my place since I pay all the bills. Secondly, you keep mentioning "Dog" "Mutt" and even pouted when Kirishima called…. Why?"

His ears flattened to his head and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "I do not pout!"

You cocked a brow as he scoffed, "Because Kirishima is a mutt."

You hopped from your chair, marching over and stuck your finger in his face. He looked up at you while searching for your audacity. "That's my best friend. You watch what you say!"

His crimson eyes visibly rolled so hard you thought they were going to pop out of his head. "I'm not saying anything bad about him, it's the truth. He is a mutt. A Dog… He's a Hybrid."

Your eyes widened like saucers, searching his unimpressed expression as you sat in the chair beside him. "He's… a dog hybrid? I've never seen him with a tail or ears like you!" He nodded, standing to pick up the bowls and place them in the sink.

He turned to face you and with his hands on his hips, you observed as his ears flattened against his head to blend with messy hair. The tail that had been flipping behind him slowly became shorter by the second until it was gone and Bakugo stood looking as human as any other person.

"Holy shit you can do that!" You gasped and he snorted.

"Of course I can do that! Why do you think Hybrids are unknown? We can blend among the humans? I chose to be in my cat form because I was "owned" by someone and thought they loved me. I spent a few years on my own, met Kirishima and some of his rowdy idot friends who wouldn't leave me alone! We fell off after an argument about blending in and you know the rest…"

He shook his head and the soft looking ears reappeared along with his tail. Crossing to the living space he stretched out over his normal space on the couch, eyes closing lazily without a care. You now found yourself in the messy kitchen he had caused, looking around at the many items he had just left laying while he now lay himself on the couch. You grit your teeth as he laid there without a single worry as if he paid the bills in the house.

Tip toeing over pans and bowls you found yourself behind the couch after snatching something from the nearby table, his ear twitching in acknowledgement to your presence. You leaned over and asked in your sweetest voice.

"Bakugo, can you please clean up your mess in the kitchen?" He cracked one eye to give you a once over before it closed again with a "No."

You cocked a brow before standing to your full height and raised the bane of your cat's exsistence. The first shot hit him in the face and both ears immediately flatted against his head, eyes flying open as he reared back into the couch.

"What the hell?" He snarled while baring his elongated canines, you simply smiled and asked again. "Mess? Kitchen?"

He huffed while crossing his arms, "Your house, you clean it up!" Your eye twitched as the most sickening grin crossed your features, panic crossing his own when you raised the object once again earning a loud hiss from his throat.

"Last warning or you get the spray bottle Bakugo!" His eyes narrowed into slits as he leaned forward.

"You wouldn't dare!"

A chuckle of defiance left you, fingers squeezing in rapid sucession as the water slapped him in the face at least twice before he rolled for cover off the couch.

"ALRIGHT STOP! I'LL CLEAN UP THE FUCKING MESS!" You held the bottle threateningly as he let out a low growl in warning.

"Good boy."

HIs face heated and tail began flicking excitedly, his long fingers gripping it behind his back to hide his joy. He couldn't let you hold something over his head like that!

With grumbles and glances to make sure you were keeping his enemy at bay, he replaced every object he had thrown to the ground after washing them thoroughly. Satisfied you smiled as he dropped into the spot beside you on the couch, leaning back into the backrest with a large pout on his handsome face.

"Aw somebody upsetti spagetti?"

He rolled his eyes and ducked your hand when you attempted to tussle his hair. A snicker left your lips while you returned your attention back to your favorite show. Silence fell between the two of you, legs curling up underneath you to be more comfortable as the next episode's theme began to play. It took another one until a large weight suddenly fell into your lap and you let out a choice word with your breath.

You found Bakugo resting his head against your legs, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as if this was the largest inconvenience in the world. Testing the waters your reached out slowly and brushed the tips of your fingers against his ears, they twitched for a brief moment before pressing into your hand. Brave now you thread your fingers through the soft locks of the messy haired hybrid, his eyebrows every so slowly releasing the tension. Your gaze explored the details of his handsome face while you continued to pet his hair.

He had the sharpest jaw you had ever seen, equally straight nose and flawless skin that was so soft as you ran your fingers from his hair down along his jaw. A rattle emanated from his chest just as those vibrant crimson eyes became visible once again, watching you with interest. You shot him a soft affectionate smile just as he raised his hand to catch your wrist. You could definitely get used to this. He brought the hand closer to him, taking a deep inhale.

"You still stink."

He hit the floor with a thump, landing on his hands and knees. "The fuck?" Snarling he bared his teeth as you huffed.

"Do not make me get the spray bottle."

He rolled his eyes and returned to the couch. He lifted your arms to your protests and threw them over his shoulders. Your face heated as he leaned forward and wrapped his thick arms around your waist. You yelped as he constricted them and pulled you into his lap snuggly, your face burring into his chest. You blinked rapidly as the low rattle of his purring began again, he lowered his face against your hair to rub back and forth for a few minutes before he finally just sat there holding you. His grip tightened around your waist as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Thank you."

You tensed at his whisper, sliding your head up to look at him. "For what?" You asked in an equally hushed tone.

"For taking care of me. Returning me back to… me."

You leaned back when he loosened the grip around your waist, the expression on his face somber as he gazed at you. Offering him a soft smile you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in tightly.

"You're welcome Katsuki."

Taglist: @lunrai @nonomesupposedto @j-brielmalfoy @bitchimaghost2

#neko bakugo #neko bakugou #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #bakugo x y/n #hybrid bakugo #hybrid bakugou #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #mha katsuki bakugo #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Title board created by the wonderful @mochie85!

Lesson Six

A new threat appears on the horizon just as you and Loki begin to bond.

**MASTERLIST HERE** Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

“THIS is a license to kill?” you asked.

You were staring at a heap of newly-netted fish piled up on the floor of a small boat at the dock, Loki and Brunnhilde on either side of you. While the specific presentation before you now was still too fresh to stink much, the still, thick, damp air of the harbor didn’t exactly do much to quell the revolting stench flying on the breeze from other, less-savory hauls that had been sitting longer. Several were still flopping around, their tiny mouths opening and shutting in silent panic, each wide, blank eye staring deeply into your soul.

“Did I ever say we were going to do this with people?” Loki asked incredulously.

You wanted to puke. “I think I’d prefer it to this.”

The King glared at Loki. “You’re going to pay for these. The grocer sells this lot to the towns in the south. This village needs that damn money, you know, roofs don’t re-thatch themselves or whatever,” she grumbled, taking a swig from a bottle of some undisclosed variety of grain alcohol.

“I’m not spending an entire year touching fish.”

 “Oh, and one more thing,” she added, turning to look directly at you. “Have you considered my offer?”

“It’s been four days since you made it,” you reasoned. “For beings that live as long as you Asgardians do, you all sure seem to be in a hurry.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow, and Brunnhilde shifted her stance. “That said,” you twisted your lip and quickly looked at Loki over your shoulder, “while I don't think he’s sold on the idea, I really don’t see any harm in taking on another tutor for now. I would like to see what you have to offer for my…lessons.”

Brunnhilde didn’t smile, but her slight change in posture was enough to indicate that she was pleased to hear this. 

“At least she’s intelligent,” she said, turning back to Loki. “That makes one of you.” 

Loki chuckled. “You think you’re going to teach her anything. You don't even possess seidr, Your Worship.” 

Brunnhilde twisted her lip and looked away. “She’ll need to learn how to fight, and whether it’s with your magic tricks or physical strength, it’s going to be something your employer hopes she is competent in.” 

“I mean, you said it yourself,” you added. “Didn’t you?”

Loki was cornered, and he was left with nothing to offer other than a sigh of surrender. “This is what I get for offering my most precious time and resources!” he mocked.

You scoffed. “Resources? Ones that I should be eating with fries and tartar sauce?” Raising an eyebrow, you looked at the hill of gasping fish and cringed. “So…now what?”

Brunnhilde took a swig from the beer bottle she held. “Help yourself, but only to a few pounds’ worth. That IS about eighty-five percent of our diet here in town. Y/N, come see me tomorrow, and we can start with some basics. Come rested and fed. We’ll be out all day.”

She turned away. “Have fun with the trout,” she called before disappearing from view.

You looked to Loki, who rolled his eyes as soon as the King was out of sight. “Finally, I thought she’d never leave.” 

You pouted. “I really need to know your history,” you insisted. 

“There is none,” Loki said quickly. 

“Liar,” you shot back, making him smile a little, amused at your reflex. 

“I don't know if you expected us to be ex-lovers, but I assure you, nothing of the sort. In fact, she’s a bit of an ancient hag next to me, though I’m certain you wouldn’t be able to see the difference.”

They were both virtually immortal to you, so it didn’t entirely matter, but Loki only laughed at your confused look anyway. 

“Let’s save the tale for some other hour, when we aren’t on a time limit,” he dismissed. 

“Time limit?” you asked. 

“The fish,” he indicated, scoffing and looking over his shoulder, “will be dead and decaying before long, whether or not by your hand.” 

“Ah,” you agreed, trying to keep from snickering in front of the growing group of curious and disapproving onlookers gathering behind you.

The pair of you were able to laugh enough to muster the dignity necessary to move several pounds of fish away from the main road, using a small box filled with ice water to keep them breathing, and off to a patch of grass behind one of the cabins near the shore. Loki laid three fish out before you on the ground, and you each sat on a side, the unfortunate ones in the middle, just waiting for your touch to put them out of their misery. 

“Now what?” you asked. 

“These are already on the doorstep to Helheim,” Loki indicated. “Last breaths gasped, and they’re destined for the chef’s blade anyhow, so there should be even less guilt or worry for you.”

You nodded, breathing in deeply, but needing a moment to avoid choking on the sudden smell that accosted you. “Sorry,” you muttered, coughing. 

“When you’re ready, reach out and kill one,” Loki instructed. “Deliberately. Close your eyes as you do so, and then focus on exactly how you feel. I will be watching you in turn.” 

Nodding quietly, you closed your eyes and held a hand out over the fish on the left. You took a slow, deep breath as you brought your hand down, the cold, slimy feeling of scales against your fingertips a bit unpleasant. Then, the familiar sensation of warmth ran up your arms and spread through your core as if through your arteries. Your right arm became heavy as if you were pulling a large weight on a rope. Your body drank in the energy within the first seconds of your touch, and when you opened your eyes again, you felt ready to run down the hill. 

Loki hadn’t even blinked, nor taken his eye off of you. “Fascinating,” he whispered. “Well?”

You shrugged. “I felt better after slapping my ex,” you admitted. 

Loki nodded. “You’d struck down a man in his physical prime then. You had more to gain from him, at least compared to a flopping, half-dead trout.”

“Still,” you went on as you looked at the stilled specimen under your finger, “I feel very…uh…maybe ‘healthy’ is the right word? I could go for a run, and I don’t like to run.” 

“That’s what I was expecting,” Loki replied. “Good.” 

You let out a nervous breath. “What did you see?”

He looked at you quietly for a moment before speaking again. “Honestly, not very much. Some energy radiating off of your skin, rather like the waves of heat one sees flying up from hot pavement in the summer. That’s quite common.”

“I don’t know why I feel like this,” you grumbled. “Like, if I’m taking life away, shouldn’t I feel bad? Or sick? Or…?”

Or like I felt after that mouse jumped up and ran off!

“Loki,” you said, “when the mouse reanimated to my touch, I felt different than I do now.”

“How so?”

“The opposite,” you commented. “I felt pain, sick, dizzy…”

“And the pull?” Loki goaded you on as he took your hand in his. “The pulling sensation? What of that?”

“Nothing,” you answered. “Instead, it kind of felt like I forced something out of me, like a cloud of steam building up pressure from under my palms.” 

“A push,” Loki muttered, his thinking wheels spinning at triple-tempo now. For your part, you only nodded. 

“I suppose it makes sense, giving life is the contrast of taking it, so I would probably feel the opposite effects taking the opposing action, right?” you suggested, speaking your thoughts aloud. 

After what felt like a few too many moments as you both tried to make sense of your descriptions, Loki smiled and squeezed the hand he still held. “Yes, it does. It’s a clue, for certain,” he affirmed. 

You giggled as a strange thought occurred to you: “What if the reason is because death is the natural order? It’s almost like the Universe is rewarding me for killing people by making me feel better.”

He continued your thought as if reading it directly from your own mind. “Which would also explain why reanimating the mouse hurt you so,” he explained. “Bringing life back from the dead is defiance of all that is natural. It’s spitting in the face of creation.” 

“Or it’s a deterrent?” you added. “If it’s really what this is, and we’re right about it, why would anyone want one person to be able to raise the dead? That’s a lot of power!” Excitement was building between you as you continued to unravel the logical arithmetic around the idea. 

“But then,” you chimed in again, “that means that this was on purpose? Someone did this to me?”

“Not necessarily. You humans evolved to have purpose without a helping hand from the skies.” Loki shook his head before going back into his professor’s facade, his rigid posture and stricter-sounding accent nearly making you laugh out loud. "Now, before we continue our discussion…bring it back.” 

You pointed down and mouthed ‘the fish?’ Loki nodded as if the answer was obvious (which, of course, it was, but you were beginning to get flustered by Loki’s sexy gaze never leaving you).

Nodding obediently, you closed your eyes and placed a finger on the newly-deceased animal, seeking out that feeling that seemed to have no problem appearing spontaneously before now. You did whatever you felt you could to answer the “push” command from inside your head. 

However, try as you did, nothing happened after a minute. Two minutes. Eventually, you pulled back and groaned, shaking your head and mouthing a disappointed ‘nothing!’

“Loki!” you moaned with shame at your failure, but he clearly didn’t share in your assessment. 

Shaking his head, he was smiling instead. “It isn’t a fault, shhh…” he said softly, taking the hand he still held and pressing your knuckles to his lips. “I expected this to happen.”

“The thing with the mouse really happened, I swear!” you insisted, and your embarrassment and fear of disappointing your teacher forced you to go into defensive mode. “Like, you know how sometimes you can’t get your phone to work until you take it in to get it fixed, and suddenly--”

Loki interrupted your rambling by leaning over, sweetly kissing you, which immediately made your shoulders relax and your monologue cease. Your heart fluttered and your legs clenched, immediately remembering the luxurious sensations of his skin against yours, his hands exploring your most hidden crevices…

“No, no, kitten,” he continued. “Let me explain something to you: magic comes in as many different forms as there are magic-users. Sometimes there are parts that are always more difficult to control. If every wizard knew the facets of every smithereen of his magic, then we’d have an entire cosmos of magicians at war with one another.”

You took a deep breath and let his reassuring smile guide you back to a centered place. 

“As I’ve said, reanimation goes against nature itself. We shouldn’t expect it to act the same way as the other side of your seidr,” he assessed. 

“So, I can’t ever control it?” you asked, crestfallen. 

He shrugged and shook his head. “For the first time in my centuries of existence, I don't think I have an answer. Perhaps you can, perhaps not. For now, let’s just see what we can do with these fish.” 

A bitter wind brushed by in the following moment of silence. You did everything you could to let the cold breeze sweep your misgivings up and away with it, choosing to trust your tutor, just as he always commanded. 

The Wheel of Time turned, and spring formally arrived in New Asgard, although it wasn’t easy to discern as much from the looks of it. Even as the evenings grew in length minute by minute, and the foliage in the distant forests were rebirthing their greenery, the gray stillness and damp chills of the village remained hovering in the air. 

The crisp, clear March day was energizing, and you’d already gone for your walk about the town. Slowly, the villagers were beginning to recognize you, and you they (although most of them still stayed clear of you for fear of your power). A few people nodded cordially as you walked by, a few even spoke a ‘good morning’ in your direction.  It was a shame the place was such a smelly little village on the coast of nowhere. A small settlement like this may have otherwise felt cozy and homey to you. A nice place to live.

It was late enough in the season now that it was still daylight after 4pm, so you, Loki, and the shopkeeper and his wife took tea together on the porch of the shop. The wind was low, so you were comfortable in a heavy sweater instead of a parka. 

The shop couple, Mr. and Mrs. Olssen served hot tea and salmon sandwiches while telling stories about their lives before surviving Ragnarok. They had held the same career on Asgard, and had lived close enough to the palace that they’d been on familiar terms with some of the nobles. They were very old, even for Aesir. Mr. Olssen had developed a terrible cough over the past half-century that rumbled up his throat every so often, but Mrs. Olssen had a secret honey tea recipe that was quite effective at relieving said cough. She chattered for several minutes straight on whether or not she was planning on selling said recipe. 

While your hosts were gracious, and certainly fascinating beings, you couldn’t help but notice that Loki was really filling out his cream cable-knit sweater (a donation from your landlord). Such a mundane garment may as well have been a wet t-shirt on the god. The casual way he’d swept his hair back into a braid didn’t help things. He looked like the hot, mysterious neighbor down the hall who could make any half-assed ensemble look good. What was worse, it seemed as if Loki had picked up on your admiration, and he couldn’t help but delight in winking or making subtle, suggestive motions with his fingers behind his teacup. 

Just as Mrs. Olssen was mentioning how her honey came from a rare kind of bee she’d discovered days after arriving on Midgard, Brunnhilde came stomping up the steps, strutting up behind Loki and kicking the back of his chair, sending his body lurching forward.

“Norns,” Loki muttered bitterly. “Just one bloody day without this…”

“I need you to come with me,” the King commanded. “They’re back, and they want to see you.”

“Who?” you and Loki asked in tandem. 

She looked at you, looking as if time was essential in the moment. “The reason I’m starting the project I discussed with you before.” 

Looking over her shoulder, Brunnhilde cringed as she saw that several people were following her, all Midgardians from further south in Europe, all looking defensive and angry.  “Shit,” she added. “These assholes are Midgardians who don’t exactly like that we’re here. And now that they’ve heard that you’re here as well, they’re out for blood.” She pointed the finger at Loki. 

You bit your lip. “So? Send them away? Tell them we’re not here for anything bad--”

“--keep quiet, Y/N, because they don’t even know of your existence,” the King continued before looking up at Loki with all the seriousness of an executioner. “Do NOT give them any reason to attack us. I think I can convince them to go away.” 

Loki looked at you and smiled in an attempt to be reassuring (which was absolutely not working). “This could be interesting.”

“Don’t you DARE!” Brunnhilde repeated her warning, wagging an accusing finger at the God, who could only throw up his hands in lighthearted surrender. 

The head of the party of humans reached the shop, inviting himself onto the deck. He held a pistol in his right hand, and the sight of it made your skin run cold. You noticed that Loki’s amused face had almost instantly dropped as his eyes also fell on the gun. 

“I don’t want that gun here, and I’m the bloody King,” Brunnhilde scolded, not that the man cared or even twitched. 

His eye was on Loki, his dark unibrow scrunched together as he finally broke his silence. “You think you can order me to stand down when you bring the biggest weapon of all right onto our soil?”

Another two people joined him. The rest couldn’t fit onto the deck and remained either on the steps or below on the grass. 

Brunnhilde growled. “If you’d just shut up, you’d have heard it when I said the last twelve times that he’s under watch and powerless here!” 

“Why should we believe another witch?” said a woman, calling from the steps. A few others in the gang of nine-or-so mumbled in collective agreement. “You’re all from the Devil’s realm!” 

“So much for gratitude, seeing as you’ve all forgotten who destroyed the Tesseract in the first place, leaving the real evil vulnerable enough to be ended,” Loki remarked, getting to his feet. His sudden movement visibly started several of the protestors. 

“Captain America and Iron Man destroyed that beast,” said the leader of the gang. 

Loki hissed through gritted teeth, his patience quickly abandoning him. “With. My. Help.” 

Mr. Olssen began to cough, and his wife started to offer him tea and rub his back. You sighed, looking at him with pity. This excitement was too much for a pair of old people. 

“I am Jonah,” the leader introduced. “My family and I lead The Flock. Ever since the beginning of this new era of wizards, aliens, magicians, and false idols parading as gods, The Flock has been dedicated to bringing the world and its people back to the state they were in before Iron Man and the Avengers began their crusades.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Could we skip the cutscene and get to the part where you just threaten us and leave?

“We came for him,” the leader explained, pointing again at Loki. “We don't want him guarded. We want him imprisoned forever. If we can’t purge every demon from this country, at least we can account for the worst one.” 

“We get it,” said the King, trying to move things along. “He’s a loose cannon, he’s under our command, we’re responsible for any trouble, you’ll be back blah blah…”

Jonah raised his gun, pointing it not at Brunnhilde, but at you. 

“No!” Loki quickly pleaded.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “We are not here to warn you. We came for him. We are not leaving without him, and whether or not we purge the rest of you in order to succeed depends entirely on whether or not Loki decides to join us willingly.”

PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT! Thank you!

@kats72 @violethaze @cheekyscamp @javagirl328 @yelkmelk @mischief2sarawr @buttercupcookies-blog @lokidokieokie @fictive-sl0th @jaidenhawke @caothicshit @holdmytesseract @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @meowmeow-motherfucker @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl @loz-3 @mjsthrillernp @alexakeyloveloki @linaax @noideakitten @evelyn-rathmore @lovingchoices14 @itzcomplctd7 @praq123 @the-fantasy-loving-angel @alexakeyloveloki @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @admiralatthebowofnails @vanilla-daydreaming @technicallysassyfox @ozymdias @fall-myriad @sititran

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki smut #don't fear the reaper #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki #sub!reader #mcu avengers #new asgard #loki angst #loki fluff #valkyrie

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 4 the Straw Hats and Eri Reader if that’s alright?

After the Straw Hats discover not only Luffy’s bounty, but Reader has one as well, they need make a few plans on how she can stay safe (Escape plans, disguises, etc)

They still head over to Lougetown because they need to restock on things but have Reader wear a disguise (Nami gives her a different hairstyle and a hat with a fake horn on the other side *Nami put a hole for her real horn so she’s not uncomfortable* and Luffy gives her fake glasses with a mustache, only to get slapped by Nami because that’s ridiculous)

Reader witches around with Zoro, Usopp, Nami, Sanji (Who made her a dessert in the Contest) and Luffy and re-encounter Alvida and Captain Buggy, who plan to kill Luffy and take Reader (Alvidia told Buggy about Reader’s power) since Reader will be useful, but all escape thanks to the storm

Smoker and Tashigi don’t want to harm Reader, rather they want to save her from the Pirates as the little girl they encountered was very polite, shy and a sweet child (They think she’s ‘Brainwashed’)

After they escape, everyone begins to tell their dreams before entering the Grand Line and when it’s Reader’s turn she timidly says; “I… I don’t really know what my dream is, but right now, I just want to stay with you all and help you reach your goals… If that’s okay with you all?” (Cue a round of heart attacks from Reader’s cuteness)

-Nami grinned warmly down at you, having pulled your hair up into a milkmaid braid, to hide your hair before she fixed the hat she made for you, “It’s not bothering your horn is it Y/N?”

-You smiled up at her, having been looking at your reflection in her mirror on awe, you looked so different!!

-Nami had made you a hat, with Usopp’s help, that looked like a paperboy’s hat with a matching horn on the other side, so it looked like you had two horns instead of one, with a hole in the other side for your real horn.

-Sanji and Nami sat down with you after you docked in Loguetown, explaining that there were bad people after you, now that your picture was out, explaining that people wanted to capture you for money, which did terrify you to no end.

-You had flashbacks to Overhaul and Alvida, remembering how they both treated you, you were so terrified of being taken back to them, or going to someone even worse.

-So to remedy the situation, you were to remain with one of them at all times if you were off the ship, which didn’t bother you, and you had to wear a disguise, which was the hat and your hair done differently.

-Before you got ready to leave the ship, Luffy called you over, holding a pair of sunglasses which also had a mustache attached and helped you put them on.

-Nami left several lumps on Luffy’s head, “You idiot!! What child would have a mustache!!” Luffy just pouted, his arms crossed over his chest, annoyed that she made you take them off.

-You started as a group, walking around together, getting the needed supplies for the next leg in your journey, you helped Sanji with shopping for food supplies, holding the basket as he held you up on one arm.

-You’re not sure how it happened but Sanji wound up in a cooking contest and made you a dessert which made sparkles appear all around you, which quickly had the cook on his knees, clutching at his chest over how stinking cute you were.

-You were passed off to Nami and Usopp, who took you clothes shopping, unaware of the headache Luffy was now causing elsewhere.

-You spotted Zoro walking by the shop, looking for a weapons shop and you told Usopp you were going with Zoro which he allowed and you ran after your second big brother.

-Moments later you were looking around, holding your hands to your chest, lost and alone, as you couldn’t see Zoro anywhere. Your hands wound in the skirt of your dress as you bit your lip, tears welling.

-A hand plopped down you on the top of your head, “You okay kid?”

-You turned to look up and instantly your eyes went wide, seeing a man with a large cigar in his mouth and looked like he was glaring.

-You froze, your eyes turning into black dots which in turn made him flinch before more tears welled in your eyes, getting scared.

-A woman’s voice then spoke up, “Smoker, you’ve got to remember you’ve got a scary face!” he scowled, turning to a younger looking woman with glasses who smiled down at you, kneeling down, pulling out a handkerchief, “There-there, no tears, Smoker is a nice guy, he just looks scary.”

-Smoker turned, pouting lightly as he scowled, before he asked you again, “Are you alone?” you sniffled softly, nodding, “I lost my big brother. He’s tall and has green hair.” Tashigi smiled, “Oh I saw him at the weapon’s shop just down the street.”

-You bowed politely to them, thanking them, showing your sweet and polite nature, and headed off after them. Tashigi calmed when she saw you in Zoro’s arms moments later, hugging him around his neck.

-Smoker then spoke, after pulling a bounty poster out of his jacket, “That is her. Obviously she’s not a pirate.” Tashigi nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly, “You’re right, they must have tainted her, like Stockholm Syndrome?” he nodded, agreeing with her idea.

-You were chatting with Zoro, telling him about all the things you saw and food you got to try with Luffy, who had gotten you a lot of tasty food, which made him grin lightly.

-You met back up with Nami who took you from Zoro and he took the bags of stuff from Nami, going to take it back to the ship. You held Nami’s hand, pulling her along, acting like a child, a little excited before you head a voice, “There you are!!”

-You saw a very pretty lady, glaring and pointing at you, and Buggy who was grinning brightly, excited to find you. Alvida knew you had a healing factor, thinking that was all that was to your ability, but now with your bounty, there was something more to it.

-You tilted your head to the side, confused, “Who are you?” Alvida smirked, flipping her hair over your shoulder and your jaw dropped as she introduced herself as Alvida.

-You looked confused, “Why are you skinny now? What happened to your tummy?” Buggy looked scared for you, downright terrified, but Alvida just smirked, telling you she had gotten ahold of a Devil Fruit, the Slip-Slip Fruit, which helped her slip off all her unneeded weight.

-Buggy and Alvida both went to attack you and Nami, mainly just to grab you, but were both blown away by Luffy and your eyes lit up, “Big brother!”

-Everything was a whirl after that, Luffy almost got decapitated by Buggy, but was saved by a masked man, Smoker was fighting and chasing after all of you, demanding you be released to him, which made you hug Usopp tighter as he was the one carrying you.

-You managed to set sail without any more major incidents and as you all celebrated escape, the grownups all having booze and you getting apple juice, everyone began to discuss their dreams, stating them here and now.

-Your eyes were sparkly, learning everything that they all wanted to do, having such big goals. A little voice in your head then popped up, ‘What’s my dream?’

-When it came to your turn, your eyes were watery, giving them all a puppy dog look, “I-I don’t have a dream right now. Can I- can I just stay with you guys?”

-Nami was hugging you, ugly crying, while all of the men had collapsed to the ground, clutching at their chests, overwhelmed at your cuteness as they all accepted your dream like it was the best one of the crew!

#one piece #luffy #eri

[hozaloza]

Maverick HC thing (slight spoiler?)

Hihi (Btw, NSFW warning- Some violent stuff, also double spoiler warning, fast pass spoilers yall)

(If it wasn't obvious enough there's spoilers)

!!!

Idk where this came from, but I get the feeling Mave may possibly be on the neurodivergent spectrum (specifically autistic) Again, not sure why, but it probably could be my hcs for him

-He really loves making origami, specifically cranes since his father would make them all the time for him when he was still alive

-Hates talking to people (but forces himself to because he literally has to) -Possibly has autism.

-That coat he constantly wears? It belonged to his dad.

-Studied GA history to be a history teacher, but he ended up going a different direction...

-Dated Darrel (stink man) at some point. It was toxic as hell, Maverick was constantly belittled by him.

-Has thought of suicide every once in a while

-Self-harm scars from when he was younger (it was when his dad died)

-Has an excellent poker face

-Constantly smiles to hide his emotions

-Listens to Lady Gaga (I got this from someone else, and I agree with it)

-When he's at home, he typically just curls into a ball and hugs his crane plush

-He has a lot of crane stuff animals.

-Probably has classical paintings in his home

-Eats like a rich person when invited to go out and eat, but rarely eats anything healthy at home (those fucking Ramon noodles. Although ig take-out can be healthy)

-dirty dishes are always in the sink, depression? -He's definitely suffering on the inside because of the toxicity that stinky cheese bitch gave him

-Brings his crane stuffed animals into a pile and dives into them, burying himself into them for comfort

-He loves his employees, they're the closest thing he has to family (Especially the crane trio. He saw them as the closest thing to younger siblings in some way)

Although he can tell they may fear him sometimes. Or at most be nervous to talk to him in a casual way since he's their superior

-----

now let's move to a scenario I would love to see happen;

Possibly at some point, Ashlyn is taken to a meeting where the higher-ups discuss about the 'fungus'. At this point in the story, she has met Maverick, and has talked with him. She doesn't like him since he's practically the reason why she's in this. However, while the meeting is going on, everyone is talking loudly, not even on topic (cause they are all snobby bitches except Maverick), and Ashlyn is just sitting there awkwardly, holding onto her headphones (she brought them just in case), when she notices Mave not talking, he's just sitting there, bouncing his leg, fidgeting with his pants+hands, and just staring out into space. She realizes he's overstimulated, so while hesitantly, she slowly hands him her headphones, gesturing for him to take them. He stares at her, then the headphones, but ultimately accepts them, putting them on. She stays by his side, watching him slowly calm down.

He definitely came to her room later and thanked her for the gesture, awkwardly handing them back. They definitely got to know each other better after this.

Yes this is what leads to his redemption arc. Or... reveal that he was going to help them after all?

#school bus graveyard #origami cranes #webtoon #ashlyn banner #fast pass #Boss SBG #Maverick #Maverick sbg #headcanon #spoilers #silly little man #he's so innocent looking now #for some reason the smirk has a different feel compared to last season #crane

[beardedmrbean]

So the latest media outrage is that SCOTUS has made it legal for business to discriminate against LGBT people. But I imagine even if that was the case most LGBT day to day shopping wouldn't really change.

I would like to see the reaction of a lgbt web design company that is commissioned to make a new website for the westborro baptist church.

or maybe hire them to do the signs for their next protest

if you don't know wbc they're these hateful piles of excrement

(feel dirty enough posting these ones, and these are some of the tamer ones they have)

before this ruling they could have taken someone to court for refusing with the claim that they were being discriminated against because of their religious beliefs and possibly won because under the letter of the law they're protected.

Go to a Jewish bakery and order a swastika cake maybe, be about the same thing, might even be more complicated if the person ordering is Buddhist.

But ya

Instead the 1A protection that's come round also means that you can't be compelled to do speech that goes against your sincerely held beliefs just because the other people are also in a 'protected class'

This is really the end result of a massive harassment campaign on that baker in Colorado that folks that knew he wouldn't serve them kept on going to so they could make a stink and get their names in the paper as a victim of some sort.

You know instead of just going to a baker you know will gladly do the job.

Guy had people coming from 100+ miles away passing over all kinds of other bakeries including some ones owned by Muslims iirc to try and make a point, then there's the website designer that this case was over not sure how many people tried her but straw that broke the camels back as they say.

Let the free market decide, go and order your specialty art and if you're turned down for whatever reason go make a stink and see if you can harm their business enough to get them to either shut down or accept commissions from people they have a moral issue with.

ACLU is gonna be throwing a fit about this one so it will be time to remind them that they stopped representing groups like the klan or neo nazis in 1A cases because it was affecting their bottom line since donors didn't like them doing that and money was more important than integrity.

I'd love to see both of those groups set on fire, but 1A still covers them no matter how repugnant they are.

may not be a terribly popular opinion, but you can shop elsewhere if you're LGBT or wbc or anything out there, protest with your dollars

#anonymous