#instead of them orchestrating everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obeythebutler · 9 months

Note

Hi! I'm new to your blog so I apologize if I mess anything up.

Could I request MC surprising the brothers with a feast they accidentally cooked up because they were worried that there worried that their wouldn't be enough food for the brothers?

It's 7:30am and his brother still aren't ready for RAD.

Hell, they haven't even stepped down for breakfast. Even Beel, never the one to miss it is missing.

Did all his brothers decide to skip today's classes? Were they orchestrating some other useless prank?

Lucifer stares at his watch, waiting. If they don't come down in the next five minutes he's going to leave them at home and give them detention. Maybe he'll have to pull Mammon out of his bed again, or carry Belphegor down the stairs.

The thought of dragging his brothers like sacks of potatoes down the stairs makes his head ache. It’s always been like this, him caving in so easily to his brothers demands, being so lax on them.

The saving grace is the human exchange student.

MC.

They're on breakfast duty today, and Lucifer can smell the pleasant hint of roasted hellfire mushrooms. Cinnamon too. They've always been a diligent person when it comes to their work.

Unlike his brothers.

Sigh.

"If you all don't hurry up, the food is going to get cold!" Their voice rings from the kitchen, and Lucifer opens his mouth to give one last reprimand to his brothers, to hurry up and come down before he drags them.

There's a blur besides him then, a flurry of moment that messes up his perfectly styled hair.

"Food cooked by the human! I call dibs on it, I'm the great Mammon after all!"

The eldest gawks at his brother, perhaps in disbelief or surprise, and then fixes his hair in resignation. Whatever makes him be on time, his scoldings or MC's voice.

Lucifer rolls his shoulders, steps forward to get into the dining hall instead of the hallway, but then he senses footsteps on the stairs. Five pairs of shoes, each distinguishable from the other.

His brothers are a blur as they surpass him to get to the dining hall.

What the—

At this point, all the man can do is to slap his palm on his forehead.

They won't listen to him, but they'll willingly rush to the dining hall when MC calls, huh? For the sake of hell and everything that is corrupted, they're such simps that its intolerable to watch.

As soon as he steps in though, Lucifer is rendered speechless by the sight in front of him. So are the brothers.

There's just.....so many plates of food. Creamed Bonnacon, Devil Zebra Bacon Sandwich, Hell Pancakes, and that doesn't even cover it. Blood Strawberries, Caramel Shadow Tart, Ghost Watermelon....It's a feast fit for a banquet, and it must have taken so much time to cook all that...

"T-That's......that's just like that anime! Where the main character cooks up a feast for their roommates because they didn't want them to go hungry so they woke up at the crack of—"

"Shut yer mouth Levi." Mammon says, although there is no irritation in his tone as he gapes at the dining table. He can spot some of his favorite foods, given that there are plates and plates of them. He mentioned some of his favorite things to eat to MC long time back, but he didn't think that they would remember.

The fourth-born has a smile on his face now, as he stares at the cat drawn on his pancake with blueberry syrup. It's so cute.

He remembers MC placing some pots and utensils on the table the night before, stating that it would be less time-consuming in mornings given the rush.

His cheeks feel hot.

"Now, darling, that is quite a feast you have cooked up for us!" Asmodeus hangs behind MC's shoulder as he compliments them. There is still flour on their cheeks, and so he wipes it away from them using his thumb, earning squawks of protest from both Levi and Mammon. "Thank you so much! This is soo going on Devilgram!"

"I thought the usual wouldn't be enough," They mumble, nervously shifting their gaze from the brothers to the table. Asmo's weight on their shoulders is a comfortable one, yet the intense scrutiny they are subjected to makes them want to hide away. "Next thing I knew was that I kept adding and adding ingredients until I realised what I did. So you better finish it all."

Belphegor giggles. "That won't be a problem." He can sense his twin's growing hunger at the sight of the feast before him, and food does taste better when cooked by your loved ones. The demon is glad that he chose to be on time today.

Wait, Beel was right besides him, he isn't here....

"Woah—" MC can only stumble out the words as they are caught off guard when pulled into a hug by the sixth born. He's tall, and so warm. "Easy there!"

"Thank you MC!" Beel's voice is full of happiness, and he can't help but hug them for it. He knows his gluttony is a lot to handle, and it causes a lot of trouble for others, but them going out of their way to make extra efforts and ensuring that he and his brothers won't go hungry makes him feel loved.

He'll wait this time, to eat with MC.

"At what time did you wake up to cook all of this?"

You turn your head towards Satan, who is now besides you. Gazing at you ever so softly. "I woke up around three, couldn't sleep since I had drunk a lot of coffee the night before."

"Your sleep schedule will be messed up if you continue," He reprimands you, but his tone is light.

"Thank you for ensuring that we all don't go hungry though." Lucifer smiles as he says that.

Maybe this is what home is.

You and the brothers, cooking too much and enjoying it nevertheless. Casual conversation drifting across the table, with Hell coffee as bitter as ever, packing some for Purgatory Hall residents and leaving together for RAD as the gates to the house close behind you all in remembrance.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader

3K notes · View notes

metalomagnetic · 13 days

Text

After seeing about 50 'Dumbledore is evil' and 'everything is Dumbledore's fault' and 'but why didn't Dumbledore did this or the other' posts in a row, I find myself wishing Dumbledore just fucked off to somewhere nice and sunny in '81, early retirement (or is it early if he's already 100?) and washed his hands off magical Britain entirely.

Some of y'all sound like Fudge with your Dumbledore bashing. I wish, at least, Dumbledore would have left when Fudge and that corrupt as hell Ministry did their best to ruin his name and his image.

Pack up his ancient shit and move to a nice beach somewhere, with his pet bird and a huge bag of candy.

This way, my man Voldemort could have won in like five minutes, and Harry would be dead, Voldemort would rule supreme, Bella would keep being the queen she is, and my little Voldemort shaped heart would be happy.

But no, Dumbledore stayed, orchestrated Voldemort's downfall by giving Harry step by step instructions, gave up his own life in the process, made sure Harry would keep his, because apparently that's what 'evil men' do instead of retiring in comfort.

Not only Harry wouldn't have survived without Dumbledore, but he most likely wouldn't even exist without Dumbledore. Because, you know, this evil man is also the one that took down another dark lord back in the day; if Grindelwald would have won, there would be no Lily, most likely. Thus no Harry.

But yes, go get your 'Dumbledore is evil' badges- I hear Fudge and Umbridge are leaders of the hate club, I'm sure they'll receive new followers with open arms. Draco is probably the secretary, because he hates Dumbledore, too, and he likes making badges.

Also, can someone explain to me how Dumbledore, the only gay man in canon, became the fandom's resident homophobe? That's just weird, my friends. Very weird, to say the least. It gets even nastier when you say he 'groomed' students. That's an awful thing to throw around about a gay dude, you know?

There are so many reasons one can dislike Dumbledore for, but you do have the option to not like a flawed character without turning them into a ridiculous caricature of themselves.

P.S: I am not talking about fics. Write your fics and your characters however you want, whatever makes you happy. Your fic is your domain, and you do whatever you want in there, hopefully with no asshole to attack you in the comments. Same with reading- read what you want, bashing or no bashing. Have the best of fun!

I am talking about these 'meta' type posts on social media, tagged with "Albus Dumbledore", where they act as if canon Dumbledore was legit evil, incompetent or homophobic.

#albus dumbledore #marauders fandom #yes marauders fandom I am looking at you #harry potter #Dumbledore would forgive y'all but I can't #flawed character doesn't mean evil #it means he's just human

322 notes · View notes

itsjustaninchident · 4 months

Text

Tolerate It

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N cries almost about everything but don't worry Charles is there, ready to wipe her tears away.

warning/s: angst???? and fluff

author's note: idk if i gave this justice, this is like a spur of the moment thing.

Y/N is definitely an empath, she sees stray cats and dogs on the street? she'll pet and cry for them, if only she could take all of them home. Old people alone? Bawl her eyes out. Kids that ask for money on the streets? Think how life must've treated them.

But at least she has a boyfriend to run to when it gets too hard for her, to breathe while she cries her heart out. Arms ready for her to run to and his shirt ready to get soaked by her salty tears. Must've been the reason she's made it to (your age), she has a comforting boyfriend who never found it weird she cries at all the most mundane things.

She's watching a sad movie? Don't worry Charles is there to give her tissues and feed her ice cream. "You've watched this a hundred times but never fail to cry as hard as the last time you've watched it. Nonetheless, you're adorable so you get a pass." And that would put a smile on her while Charles dry her tears and kiss her softly on her nose.

She listens to songs and suddenly a cute/angsty/happy lyric comes on? He'll rub her back and hug her through it. "It's okay, Love. Taylor Swift was probably chilling while she writes 'I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it.'" Charles tries to convince her while she cries harder upon hearing the lyrics, "Okay, I am sorry. I probably shouldn't sing anymore." Which cut her crying session with a meek laugh bubbling her throat. "There's your pretty smile." He utters with full adoration. He probably still finds her gorgeous even when she's breaking down, Charles will find her pretty as much.

She stumbles upon a sad and tragic couple's story on tiktok whom she's never met in real life? Charles is right there to assure her it won't happen to them. "It was probably orchestrated, you know. Besides, we're like the perfect pair and I couldn't ask for more." He assures her rubbing circles on her back as she lay down on his chest, content to hear how his heart beats for her.

And that's what makes them a perfect couple, he was always there in her 'ugly crying' days, always ready to wipe her tears, always ready to give her comforting words "It's okay, mon cheri. I am here. I'll always love you." He says in the softest voice and all her tears will dry and a smile will shine on her face again. And just like that all her worries will fade, all the sad things she's thought of are fading into the background as if she never thought of it at all. She was able to get through the bad and sad days with him by her side, ready to wipe the tears and put a smile on her face.

She was so used to him being there for her that when he’s no longer present, she feels a hole in her heart. There's no one to wipe the tears away rather the one she's crying for, no one making her laugh to ease the pain instead he's the reason for the pain, no one to run to when she's sad because the slightest thought of him makes her miserable already, how will she recover now when the person who takes away her sadness is now the reason why she's sad?

please I would love to hear a feedback about this one, it's like a first for me to write something so angsty????? I hate angst so I am sorry if I made u believe it will all be alright all along..... Anyway please do some request because request box is open!!! hehe happy holidays

#fluff #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #angst #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

412 notes · View notes

writing-for-marvel · 6 months

Text

Day 25: Body Worship

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to prove to you how beautiful you are on the anniversary of the first time you met.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sensual and romantic, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, hints at reader being insecure about her body, mentions a pocket of fat on her inside thigh

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: a special fic on a special day for me ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Your hand grasps Bucky’s bulging bicep as he leads you back into your hotel room after having kept you occupied sightseeing throughout the day.

You thought it was suspicious how interested he had been exploring the old city, when you could instead be exploring each other as he usually prefers, but when you see the scene in front of you as you return to your presidential suite, it all suddenly makes sense.

Candles flicker in the middle of a formally set table, luscious red rose petals scatter the white tablecloth and floor, and where the extravagant leather couch had been this morning, now an elaborate blanket fort has been constructed. Soft violin music plays in the background as Bucky leads you around the room, allowing you time to take in everything which has been set up specially for you.

“Do you remember what today is?” He asks in what you assume is in response to a dumbfounded expression on your face.

You wrack your brain for what on earth you’ve forgotten - a birthday, anniversary, special occasion? But you come up completely blank. Slowly shaking your head, the tips of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that Bucky has organised such a romantic night for something you’ve completely forgotten.

“Three years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you, the first time we met.” He informs without an ounce of judgement to be perceived in his tone.

It’s hard to believe it was only three years ago you met the man you now refer to as your soulmate, it feels like you’ve known this generous and passionate person an entire lifetime.

Bucky holds out his hand, which you take without question, and pulls you into his broad chest, swaying in time to the orchestral music. You rest your head on his strong pec, feeling his heart beating just for you as his soft lips kiss your hairline.

“Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you.” His voice sounds shaky, almost as if he’s choked up and trying to get the words out without sounding affected.

You look up at him through your lashes to find your devoted husband with tears in his eyes, gazing at you like his entire world is resting in the palm of his hand.

“My life has not been the same since I met you. I can’t fathom an existence without you; everything is brighter, bolder, more colourful when you're next to me. This night three years ago, I remember going home to an empty bed and thought it was strange how much my mouth was hurting. It was such a weird sensation. Then I realised, it only hurt because I’d been smiling from ear to ear the whole time I was with you.”

“You never told me that.” Tears are now welling in your own eyes, but you fight them back so that you can memorise the smile curving on Bucky’s features and the twinkle in his eye that you’ve only ever noticed when he’s looking at you.

“I knew that night you were someone I wanted in my life, in whatever way you would have me. It was like I could see my entire future laid out in front of me, all encompassed in one strong, stunning woman, with the most gorgeous, sparkling eyes I’ve ever seen and a brilliant smile that makes my heart leap out of my chest every single damn time. And here I am the luckiest man in the entire world that you chose me to be the one you trusted with your heart.”

He takes your hand while still swaying to the inflections of the string instrument, and presses the palm of your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is quicker than the pace you’re used to feeling while he’s resting, but the notion that his thoughts of you are the reason his body is reacting in such a way makes your own heart leap out of your chest.

“I would never give it to anyone else, my love.”

“Te iubesc pentru totdeauna [I love you forever]. I still can’t believe you’re all mine.” His smile is as bright and warm as the setting sun, and right now you’re Icarus flying fatally close.

But James Barnes is worth falling out of the sky for.

The words tasting sweet and sincere on his pillow soft lips when you kiss him. His mouth moves slowly, yet purposefully against yours, trying to convey his love for you in action, rather than just words. His hands cup your jaw, coaxing you to open up to him, his tongue dancing with yours in a display of his yearning need.

“I wanna give you the whole world.”

“You already have. You are my whole world.” This time it’s him who kisses you, with much more ardour and intensity, sweeping his tongue in your mouth. His hands slide down the length of your back and pull you flush with him, a moan escaping his lips as your hands tangle in his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since before the wedding, and the additional length allows you to tug on the ends nicely. “Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert, shall we?”

“You’re the only thing I’m craving tonight.” The hunger in his eyes certainly indicates he could devour you like a five course meal if he were so inclined, so who are you to stop him?

His large hands on your hips slowly turn you around so your ass is pressed against his front. They trace the curves of your figure gradually, taking his time, paying attention to every swell and dip of your shape which he has helped you learn to love.

Bucky zips down your dress, the material coming loose over your shoulders, and with a little shimmy, you’re almost naked before him.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

Boys you dated in the past were only interested in one thing: seeing you naked. Though Bucky loves you bare and writhing for him, he first and foremost loves who you are; loves your soul. Being able to strip you off your clothes has always been a privilege to him, not a right.

His lips press gentle, feather light kisses along your shoulder as he rids you of your underwear, and all of a sudden you feel very exposed standing in the middle of the room, even though Bucky’s seen you naked a thousand times.

As soon as he turns you around again to face him, eyes brimming with nothing other than pure adoration and devotion, that nagging feeling of being on display evaporates. He loves you, has vowed to spend the rest of his life worshipping you, there is not a single inch of your body that Bucky Barnes does not love.

“Lay back for me baby.” Bucky requests, his powerful hands assisting you as you fall back into the blanket fort. “I got you.” He promises, ensuring you don’t collapse in a way that will result in you being hurt. The care in his touch, how gentle this burly, tattooed man is, as if he is handling a precious artefact he cannot afford to damage.

Though Bucky looks ready to take you right then and there, he starts out slowly, trailing kisses down your neck, covering your chest and breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking on both of them until they form stiff peaks, all the while whispering sweet praises against your hot skin.

“My beautiful wife. So fucking gorgeous. My Queen. These perfect tits. God, these hips, these fucking hips. And your thighs, they drive me insane. Just wanna be buried between them. Wanna give you everything, all of me. Gonna make love to you, darling. Make you feel so good.” His breath is hot against your skin, words of devotion whispered just for your ears as he places sweet kisses on the inside of your thighs, staring at your knee, and making his was towards your core, paying particular attention to the pocket of fat you’d forever disliked about your legs, but Bucky has always adored.

A moan escapes your mouth and your eyes roll back as Bucky’s strong arms hold your thighs apart and his lips close around your clit. It’s almost unexpected, with how he had been taking his time treasuring all other parts of you, but you feel a flood of wetness gush out of you at the intimate contact.

There’s a sense of power having a man as important as James Barnes lying between your legs, treating you like a queen, obsessed with bringing you to orgasm. But when Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he suckles on your clit, you feel nothing but a rush of palpable love.

His tongue is experienced in those little lapping movements that have you throwing your head back, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you completely open for him. Bucky’s hips rut into the pillows and blankets below him as you grind your hips on his face.

You can’t even control the obscene sounds falling from your lips as Bucky continues to abuse your pussy, your hands flying to his hair as he leads you closer and closer to the edge of the ultimate high.

“You look so beautiful when you cum - show me.” The lower half of Bucky’s face glistens with your juices before he dives back into your folds, as hungry as ever.

You oblige, as you do every time your dangerously gorgeous husband requests this from you, it’s like his words themselves compel you to satisfy his order. Your back arches off the pillows, your whole body trembling as a devastating pleasure rips through you, it feels like burning sunshine radiates in your veins, surging with every pulse.

Bucky’s lips don’t let up their suction until your thighs stop shaking, only to switch his attention to your stomach, showering every inch of your soft skin with kisses as his hands knead your breasts.

You feel cold and empty for a moment as Bucky focuses on stripping off his clothes, but as soon as he looks back at you, completely bare and ready to finish what he started, warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, darling.” Bucky sits on his heels, thick cock in hand as he rubs his leaking tip through your soaking folds, humming at the sensation. A whine falls from your lips, desperate for him to fill you up, for you to feel so utterly full and satiated by him that you’re almost on the brink of insanity.

“Need to feel you Buck, please, I need you so fucking bad.”

He mumbles something in Romanian you don’t understand in response as he pushes his swollen tip inside you. You let out simultaneous groans as he slowly fills you up. As he bottoms out, he rests his forehead against yours. You finally feel complete with him buried to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk… a lifetime of that feeling will never be enough.”

You moan against his mouth as his hands intertwine with yours, pinning them above your head as his eyes brim with pure love. He starts off slowly, almost agonisingly so, pulling all the way out of you before thrusting himself inside to where it feels like he’s in your stomach, watching your face intently to your reactions as his cock kisses your cervix.

His bare chest presses to yours, caging you in, hearts thundering against each other as you move together to a relentless rhythm, an intoxicating tide of intimacy and pleasure. His gaze and touch are full of love, a contrast to the harshness of the underworld he was carved out of, but you know it’s you who makes him tender.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well aren’t you?” Your nails rake down his back as you feel your walls clench down on his member. The rhythm of his cock stroking your velvety walls doesn't let up as his lips attach to your neck, sucking your skin in a way that makes you see stars.

He understands your wants and needs better than anyone else, learning the formula for your gratification in a way that none of your previous partners ever tried to.

“Oh God, you’re so deep, Buck. Feels so good.” His hips roll into yours fluidly, hips circling and rubbing against your g-spot so effortlessly with every thrust. The pressure in your lower belly threatens to engulf you, drown you in a sea of pleasure, but it’s a demise you’ll embrace when Bucky’s making you feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Your orgasm approaches fast, the look of complete desperation in Bucky’s eyes only bringing you closer to the edge. All it takes is Bucky whispering a phrase in his native language and another deep thrust for you to come apart on his cock.

You can barely breathe with the ferocity of your high, it feels like an entire waterfall of pleasure washing over you at once, overwhelming, brutal, but oh so good.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you baby.” Bucky moans as your walls flutter around him. He looks the picture of utter sexiness, jaw hanging open, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and that contrasting warm fondness in his blown out pupils.

Your chest squeezes when it’s your name that his lips enunciate as he spills his large load inside you.

You’re the one making him feel this good. You’re the only person who he will ever share this intimate side of himself with again. The only one who gets to see his face as he comes undone, steel blue eyes boring into yours as if he wants to remember each and every detail of your face as you cum together.

Bucky collapses next to you, arm slung around your waist as you both catch your breath. You smile at him and he beams right back as you sweep a strand of hair from his eyes.

“God, I’m so in love with you. Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” There’s a moment where he simply looks at you, as if trying to convince himself you laid beside him is in fact his reality, before he kisses the tip of your nose.

“You don’t have to imagine, Buck, I’m all yours, for the rest of forever.” You snake your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his broad chest, feeling him place a kiss to your hairline. “I love you.”

Bucky pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies as you close your eyes, feeling completely content falling asleep beside the love of your life in a blanket fort.

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

620 notes · View notes

ineffable-endearments · 5 months

Text

Aziraphale's Entire Bookshop Is A Trauma Reenactment

This essay got so complicated. The main point is that Aziraphale's bookshop is a trauma reenactment and that's why he had to give it up.

This post of mine recently got a bunch of notes and I'm so glad people have liked it. For the unfamiliar: the gist is that Aziraphale wants. He wants books, he wants Crowley - but he can't let himself just desire things for their own sake or for his; he'll only allow himself to have what he wants if it serves a greater purpose. That's why Aziraphale has a shop full of books instead of just a collection of books. That's why Aziraphale always has some scheme for Crowley to get involved in.

However, I think that underneath the "purpose" of selling books and participating in the local economy, the shop has another purpose that Aziraphale hasn't faced. Instead of rewriting this, I'll partially copy over something I wrote after Season 1 and before we even knew Season 2 was a thing:

Aziraphale’s squirreling away of old books and erroneous Bibles, his hoarding of humanity’s misguided attempts at prophecy…he is roleplaying his relationship with Heaven, but with himself in a position of power. He’s gathering Knowledge and keeping it a secret while knowing all along that it’s inaccurate, so in that way, he is a lot like his superiors and God. Crucially, he gets to role play the entity powerful enough to have, but not share, his knowledge.

Note that also, in this scenario, the misprinted Bibles and vague or incorrect prophecies are highly prized. They are Aziraphale's favorites - just as you'd expect for a being who knows he's not what an angel is supposed to be but is desperately hoping God will favor him for exactly that reason.

So. The bookshop is a reenactment of Aziraphale's trauma in the same way that yelling at plants is a reenactment of Crowley's trauma. In both cases, the two of them are identifying with both their abusers and themselves. Crowley recognizes that his abusers are malicious and have only their own motivations, no drive toward the "greater good." That's why it's a sign of healing that he has started showing more attachment to his plants in Season 2 and seems to be treating them better: he is no longer acting the part of his own abuser.

Aziraphale is, despite his conscious efforts, still identifying with Heaven. Through his bookshop, he is trying to act like he thinks Heaven should, preserving (his books) and protecting (his books, Jim, Crowley) and orchestrating Good (the whole Ball fiasco). And each of these behaviors is for a Great Plan: running a bookshop, solving a mystery, throwing a ball. Everything he does has to align with a higher purpose, a grand scheme of some kind. Otherwise, how is he going to take on Heaven's role and do it better?

It's a twisted way of trying to make things right. Heaven has failed at its job. It's supposed to be the ultimate Good, but it hasn't been. Even in the Final 15 minutes when Aziraphale says "It's the side of truth, of light, of good," I'm more than convinced he's saying that because he wants it to be so rather than because he's sure of it. (Someone else pointed out this possibility, but it was many posts back and I'm not sure who. If I find the post again, I'll link it here.)

Aziraphale is stuck in a pattern of trying to play the role Heaven failed at. To be clear, this role is "motivating humans to do Good and keeping it all (the universe) running."

...But nobody should be doing Heaven's job. Nobody should be "orchestrating Good," not by trying to control other people. Nobody should be making grand plans for the universe. People should be allowed to just live out their lives.

I want to add, in case it's not obvious, that this is not a conscious process. With human beings, it typically is not. And as other people have pointed out, Aziraphale is smart, which is why he can end up in these patterns in the first place: he's good at rationalizing!

While his need for control is intensely unhealthy, it's reasonable that he would have ended up here. Aziraphale has never been in control in his entire existence. That's Heaven's form of abuse. I mean, I start having an existential crisis when I don't feel like I can say "no" often enough at work - I can't imagine being created with the same amount of free will but denied the knowledge to make any choices for millions of years.

(That's also where some of his most infuriating behavior comes from - another way of trying to exert control is through acceptance: to just insist on being happy even when things are obviously wrong. God is cruel? There must be a good reason we don't understand. Armageddon is coming? Well, it will all be lovely afterward, of course. The Metatron is being really persistent about trying to get me back in Heaven? That's great, actually! Now I can make a difference! Neil has commented that Aziraphale's favorite song with lyrics is "Spread A Little Happiness." Look up the lyrics. They are all about simply denying bad feelings.)

You know how we've observed that the bookshop is painted in Crowley's colors? And how Aziraphale left both of them behind at the end of the season? Well, also consider how Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship pattern has become unhealthy and codependent - Aziraphale genuinely loves Crowley, but the only model of love he's had in his own personal experience, outside of fiction, is this weird power-control thing Heaven has going on.

He needs to break out of the control pattern before he can admit that he loves books and Crowley for what they are.

This is why I think the definition of "goodness" isn't necessarily Aziraphale's final final boss. The narrative could go that way. But I have a strong feeling his final boss will have to involve control.

When people wonder "Why is it taking so long for Aziraphale to figure out that Heaven is bad," my personal suggestion is that good intentions are a red herring for both the audience and for Aziraphale himself. He needs to stop believing that Heaven's job is necessary at all. He needs to see that the whole existence of the institution is a problem, not merely the management. No, not even the really bad management.

On one hand, Aziraphale needs to figure out the same things that Adam Young figured out - that existence is meaningless when people don't get to make their own choices; there's no point in having friends who can't talk back, and there's no point in making people's decisions for them. It's very honorable to want to truly do Good. But you can't do it through control. Even if you completely ignore the moral issues with controlling people, it simply does not produce a worthwhile result.

Aziraphale technically knows all this already. He knows people need to have choices. He knows choices hold no meaning unless people make them freely. He just hasn't grasped that Heaven is, at best, creating unnatural consequences for people. Heaven itself is getting in the way of that ability to choose.

On the other hand, Aziraphale needs to figure out that he CAN make his own choices. He doesn't need Crowley to dance him into the right decision, and he doesn't need God to tell him what to do. Aziraphale has already done some of this in the past, under extreme pressure. He needs to get more comfortable with it. I think his realizations about control will help this part fall into place. Realizing that Heaven's role is a problem can more easily cascade into a healthier notion of his own boundaries - choices that are his and choices that are other people's.

Giving up the bookshop is actually a step toward healing because Aziraphale is stepping up to see the inner workings of his abusive institution head-on instead of reenacting the abusive actions with his bookshop, his neighbors, and Crowley. We know that in reality, people don't get over trauma thanks to one event, but for the sake of the story, realizing that individual or institutional control is not the way to Goodness might just be the breakthrough Aziraphale needs.

And then he can stop feeling compelled to put the things he loves through Great Plans in order to spend time with them, and he can simply love them, hopefully in a cottage where no one ever tries to buy books from him and Crowley will sleep soundly every night.

How this will come about in Heaven is anyone's guess. I think it might, again, happen the same way it happened for Adam Young: with Aziraphale getting his way only to realize it's not what he wants.

Of course, the bookshop deserves to live on. It was a safe place for so long. Like all of Aziraphale and Crowley's other respective coping mechanisms, it offered protection and comfort, and it's become an inspiration to Muriel.

That's why I have a strong feeling Muriel is going to formally inherit the bookshop - with Aziraphale's full permission and enthusiasm, for keeps, not as a coerced posting by an authority figure. I may be getting ahead of myself, what with the enormity of what has to happen first, but it feels right.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #aziraphale

475 notes · View notes

dotster001 · 7 months

Note

Could i request the twst earth thing except they get isekaid in the reader world? How would they act? Or interact with them? You choose the characters!

Summary: Floyd/Jade/Vil/Rook/Lilia

A/N: we'll just say that each one is a separate universe for simplicity's sake. Special thanks to @irrelevantlight @giuliap17 and @fishisahappydog for choosing the characters for me.

To the anon: your idea is really good! And I'm gonna save it for later to make it it's own post

3k followers masterlist

Hopefully Jade gets isekaid with him. If he is, he will pretend to have a leash on his wild brother. I say pretend, because the moment Floyd sees you, Jade will suddenly stop caring about restraining him, and will decide to explore this world's flora and fauna instead.

Floyd gives zero shits about this world. All he knows is that he can feel you in it, and he has to find you. He'll run the whole way, no matter where he spawns in. He'll sprint towards you, and your poor, human self isn't gonna know what hit you when a wall of man bowls you over.

Stop screaming! He's trying to love you!

If he spawns in with Floyd, half of his time is going to be spent being angry. He knows you're here, but he also has to keep track of his brother who couldn't care less about finding his twins favorite "fictional" character. It's slow progress and it may take him a couple weeks to finally reach you.

Whether he spawns in with Floyd or not, he's going to orchestrate a meet cute between you two. He can't expect you to be thrilled if he swooped in and knew everything about you. So he waits.

One day some asshole accidentally knocks into you, and you nearly fall into the busy street. Luckily two strong arms wrap around your middle and drag you to safety. He asks if you're alright, and insists on taking you for a tea to calm your nerves…and the rest is history.

How interesting….this must be your world! There is no need for him to even process the move. He's traveled many places in his lifetime. This is just a new place to add to his scrapbook!

He also isn't going to rush into a relationship with you. Once he finds you, he's going to make you fall for him. He'll play off his delightful scamp tendencies, and his charming character, and make yu head over heels.

One day you'll confess your feelings for him, and he'll act all surprised. But deep inside he's celebrating another victory for General Lilia, mastermind of the King's army.

You won't even know he's here for a while. He can't be sure if this "move" is permanent or not, so he's going to establish himself. It won't be very hard with his unearthly looks, and winning charisma.

By the time he comes to find you, you'll know who he is. He'll befriend you, and perhaps you'll even confess to him.

And of course he'll say yes. He feels a little bad that he knows everything about you, and you just think he's some random guy who got famous overnight, but it's easier to believe than the truth. Maybe he'll tell you someday. But only if he figures a way back to Twisted Wonderland.

He is in no hurry to find you. Yet. First he wants to explore your environment, figure out how his prey's your environment is so he can understand the survival tactics you use. Once he has those, he can ignore them all.

Now, just because he waited, doesn't mean he's going to do what some of these boys do, and get to know you so you don't freak out.

Nah. What you get is a man in a hat spouting a speech at you about soulmates and true love, and how he can provide for your future life living in a mansion in the woods, with a farm, and ten dogs, and thirteen kids that he just found somewhere….

#twisted wonderland #3k followers #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #jade leech #jade leech x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge

582 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 19 days

Text

Love Me A Little

Character: Secretary!Bucky x Female!Reader

Words: 1,539

Summary: "Love me, even just a little." When she uttered those words, they struck Bucky like a bolt of lightning, leaving him utterly bewildered. After all, he was just a secretary—his world and hers seemed galaxies apart.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A/N: Check out the male version of this story - Be Mine.

It was already 1:00 a.m., and the streets lay deserted, easing Bucky's drive. The sleek black Bugatti smoothly entered the apartment basement car park. Just one more turn, and he would find his usual parking spot.

"Screech." The sound of tires screeching echoed in the empty basement.

"Huh?" Bucky's foot instinctively hit the brake as he caught sight of the familiar figure standing in front of his car.

"Y/N?"

It's you. The sole daughter of the Rogers family, the heiress to Starlight Enterprises, a conglomerate spanning oil and gas, telecom, retail, and financial services.

You had fled, prompting the company to dispatch security teams in search of you.

And here you were.

Bucky stepped out of the car. "What are you doing? Don't you realize everyone's been searching for you?"

You scoffed, your tone laced with defiance. "So what? At least everyone will learn that I'm serious. I refuse to marry that guy."

Bucky understood the depth of your frustration. Your family was orchestrating an engagement between you and their business partner. But you vehemently opposed it. He comprehended why; the man they wanted you to marry was notorious—a playboy and a drug addict.

Unable to sway your resolve, Bucky carefully chose his words. "You should go home."

He reached out, gently clasping your hand, his touch pleading, wanting to guide you to safety.

But you recoiled, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to."

Bucky's heart sank, his expression pained. "Your family is worried about you."

Your retort was sharp, cutting. "Are they really? Or are they just afraid of losing their golden ticket?"

A tense silence enveloped them as Bucky grappled with the weight of your words. As the secretary to your brother, Steve, the Vice President, he was privy to the inner workings of wealthy families, aware that most marriages were arranged for business purposes.

Like Steve and Peggy, who defied the odds and found happiness together despite the pressures of their world, you refused to succumb to a loveless marriage.

With teary eyes, you gazed at Bucky, desperation etched in every tear. "I'll tell my parents I'll marry you instead."

Bucky sighed, feeling the weight of your request once more. You had asked him this before, seeking refuge from the loveless future awaiting you. Each time, he had declined.

"Not everything will always go your way," he murmured, his words heavy with resignation. "You've been living in a bubble as Princess Rogers." He paused, unable to bring himself to utter the name of your family's empire. "Now you're facing reality."

You fought back the tears, stung by his harshness. It was the first time Bucky had spoken so coldly to you. "Do you think my feelings for you are fake?"

"My whole life has been arranged from A to Z without my opinion," you continued, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"The only thing I have is my dream of us living happily ever after. Can I at least have that?" Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Stop dreaming. Go home," Bucky commanded, his voice firm as he pointed behind you.

'Screech.'

With a screech of tires, a white Mercedes arrived to collect you. It dawned on you that Bucky had already informed the security team of your whereabouts.

As you watched Bucky walk away, a surge of determination washed over you. Clenching your fists, you whispered, "I'll show you."

########

A few days later

The entire Rogers family had gathered for tonight's dinner, including your grandparents, Thomas Rogers, the esteemed founder of the company. Bucky joined the dinner as well, having become one of the company's key figures, seated right beside you.

Despite the gravity of your previous conversation, you seemed to have put it aside, acting as if nothing had happened when you saw Bucky.

The dinner unfolded in its usual extravagant manner, with everyone engaging in polite small talk until dessert was served.

Your grandmother, Anna, broke the silence. "It's wonderful that we could all come together like this. We must discuss our youngest's engagement."

Your mother, Sophia, nodded, her smile gentle. "I met with them four days ago, and we've already ironed out all the details, from the church to the wedding."

Bucky's mind raced. Four days ago? That's precisely when you had gone missing.

Anna's excitement bubbled over. "This wedding will be magnificent. I can hardly contain myself."

But only the two women seemed enthused; your grandfather, Thomas, and your father, Benjamin, remained stoic, while your brother Steve stayed silent.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the air—a sharp "clank" as a fork stabbed into a plate.

All eyes turned to you.

"I don't like it," you stated flatly, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Sophia's hand hesitated mid-air, poised to call the waitress, but froze when she heard her daughter's words.

"I don't like anything," you continued, your voice ringing with defiance. "I don't like that person, the wedding, anything."

"Y/N, stop," Sophia interjected, her tone tinged with frustration. "We've discussed this."

"Discuss?" you retorted bitterly. "Do you mean when you ignore my words?"

Anna's patience wore thin. "Y/N, enough with the tantrum. This concerns the entire family."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "I refuse to marry him."

Anna rose from her seat, ready to reprimand you, but a sharp glance from Thomas halted her in her tracks. Without a word, she sank back down, chastened by her husband silent command.

Thomas fixed you with a steady gaze, the same gaze that had once spoiled you as his beloved granddaughter. "Explain to me the reason why."

"I don't love him," you declared, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love someone else."

A sudden palpitation coursed through Bucky's chest. He sensed the situation spiraling out of control.

"Whose the person you love?" Thomas inquired, his voice firm.

You didn't hesitate. "Bucky."

'Ba-dump'

The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the rapid thudding of Bucky's heart echoing in his ears, his mind racing as he grappled with the revelation unfolding before him.

Bucky rose hastily, his intention to apologize to the Chairman halted as your hand clasped his, the determination in your eyes stopping him in his tracks. It was the first time he had seen you like this, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

As all eyes turned towards you, you swallowed hard before speaking up. "And I'm pregnant. Bucky is the father."

The room erupted in chaos as Sophia and Anna screamed in unison.

"What?" they exclaimed in disbelief.

"Bucky! How dare you touch my daughter!" Sophia lunged forward, her hand reaching for Bucky's hair, but Benjamin intervened, restraining her.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest and deny the accusation, but the words stuck in his throat. He was taken by surprise, too.

"Silence," Thomas, the Chairman's authoritative voice, cut through the commotion, bringing an abrupt end to the chaos.

He rose from his seat, followed by Benjamin and Steve, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Fixing Bucky with a steely gaze, Thomas uttered just two words. "A word."

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he replied, "Yes, Sir," bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

########

In Benjamin's office, Bucky stood before the three men, the weight of their scrutiny heavy upon him as they remained silent. Finally, Thomas broke the tension with a direct question. "Is everything true?"

Bucky knelt before his boss and friend, his voice steady but his heart pounding. "No, sir. None of it is true. I've never laid a hand on her."

Thomas's expression softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Good."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, grateful for Thomas's understanding.

But then Benjamin spoke up, his tone contemplative. "Then why don't you like my daughter?"

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his head to meet Benjamin's gaze.

"She's better off with you than with that spoiled man," Steve interjected, his voice firm.

Benjamin nodded in agreement, his eyes holding a hint of understanding.

Bucky was taken aback. "What?"

Thomas leaned forward, his voice grave. "The wedding arrangement was orchestrated by my wife and Y/N's mother. I'm relieved my granddaughter took a stand today."

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "I nearly lost my cool when she said she was pregnant. I almost punched you. Thank goodness it was a lie."

Bucky struggled to find words, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

Steve's tone softened. "Stay with her. I won't allow my sister to marry that man."

As the men continued their discussion, Bucky's mind raced, unable to fully comprehend the depth of their support.

Excusing himself, Bucky closed the door behind him, only to find you waiting for him outside.

Your worried expression melted his defenses as you approached him.

"What did they say?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing."

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a tight hug, his body stiffening like a log. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, determination flashed in your eyes.

"I'll make you love me," you vowed softly. "Even just a little."

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@vicmc624

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@buckybarnessimpp

@charmedbysarge

@almosttoopizza

@sapphirebarnes

@daddysfavoritesexkitten

@rebeccapineapple

@cjand10

@pigeonmama

@almosttoopizza

@thesarcasmqueen-22

@cakesandtom

@ficrecsbyellie

@reblogging-all-i-read

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

299 notes · View notes

sleepyconfusedpotato · 6 months

Text

MWIII Campaign Thoughts and Reviews

(Played in the recruit difficulty because I suck at FPS games, and I want to explore and spent time in the campaign without dying too much). Leave some thoughts!

⚠️SPOILER ALERT⚠️

So… that was devastating.

(+) To start things off, Makarov - Boy, holy shit. Yes. YESSS. They didn’t hold back with the new Makarov. He’s a mastermind, he’s a charming fella, he’s a psychopath lol. And the fact that he smiles a lot in this campaign just adds to the creepiness. I might get some side-eye here, but this Mak can go head-to-head with the OG!Mak. He’s always onto something, he’s proven destructive, had the 141 hauling ASS to chase him.

Makarov had stolen American missiles from ULF, caused false flag missile attacks on Russian Military base, and successfully orchestrated a false airplane hijacking, all under ULF's name - everything in the span of 48 hours since he got out of prison. I saw people saying that this Makarov ain't got nothing on the OG one has to be inhaling some shit copium because this is only in one single game and he's destroying shit.

I know just one game with rushed development won’t be enough for an iconic character like him, so I’m glad they didn’t kill him.

(-) I absolutely ABHOR, DETEST, LOATH the Open Combat Missions (OCM). It is so very not Call of Duty campaignesque. it doesn’t help anything with the narrative, and if anything, it even took away the narrative for us. The former missions in former games are iconic in their own way because the mission designer put a lot of thought into how the game will be played, the situations we found ourselves in.

But OCM's, we're like... Left to our own devices without any story-driven dialogues.

I think one of the reasons why MWII was so close to everyone's heart was because of the banters between the characters, especially in Alone. Here, because it's literally our choice and our time, it left us with no actual given time to know and love the characters more than we already did. Yes we love the characters, MW19 and MWII did that for us. But in this one? They said "character development is done, mate. Now go to war.”

Then again, is OCM a product and evidence of MWIII’s rushed development? 100% yes. I don’t give a shit if they cover it with “oowh we make OCM so you can play the missions differently each time without repeating the same mission over and over again!”. Let me ask you this, Activision - Have ‘repeating the mission over and over again’ been a problem with us campaign-enjoyers? No! I played the MWII campaign like 5 times, in all difficulty (except realism I still love my life), and I enjoyed it, because the mission designers took a lot of time and thought to it instead of just creating a map, putting a bunch of loadouts scattered around the area and throw us in it. So yes, it’s clear that OCM is a product of rushed development. It sucks the life out of the campaign missions.

Some people may enjoy it, but I play the campaign exactly for the linear style missions, not DMZ style.

(+) Look, I said it before that I will go to the campaign with the lowest expectation possible. I expected Mak to be sub-par, I expected them to play safe with the characters, and BOY WAS I WRONG. Setting aside the point above where the character feels stuck on the character development (which is a huge minus btw), all the characters have time to shine in their own missions, especially Price because I feel like we play him the most. However, I do also love the fact that the girls get shit done here. Farah and Laswell did their work so beautifully and apparently it was revealed that Laswell will be a MP operator, so that’s cool.

(+) Ghost being a menacing presence, can stood his ground. Price being level-headed though at the same time unhinged as usual. Gaz being the voice of reason throughout the entire fucking game LMAO. Soap being the brave man he is, the passion and fury is evident throughout the campaign. Farah being badass and dependable as usual. Alex being the main supportive guy to Farah (Faralex is canon at this point argue with a wall). Nikolai being our most reliable get-away guy.

And of course, Graves and Shepherd being the fucking goofy ahh duo I actually find interesting. The trial cutscene was such a goofy scene LMAO the fact that they backstabbed each other in the ass is real funny. I side with Graves though. However wrong and unhinged he may be, Graves is just a guy doing his job and did what he’s told to do.

(+) I love the fact that Mak tried to frame Urzikstan to pin the blame on them. It's exactly what the OG!Makarov did but in HD. The Passenger mission is phenomenal and more damn traumatizing if only it was a bit longer and more stretched. There are many more reference to the OG games and I absolutely love it.

Now…

Soap’s Death

Remembering all the MWII missions with Soap... It hits differently now, man.

(-) I've read a lot of people's arguments about it that the fact that it happened is just for shock value and kind of disappointing. Because let’s be real here, Soap is an SAS who got the name Soap because of how much of a slippery bastard he is. Granted, Mak is an ex-Spetsnaz and can fight with Soap. But how he went down in a goddamn takedown without any chance of fighting is just… it’s not it.

To add to that, the reaction from the boys is just... Underwhelming? Like I get it they're battle-hardened SAS soldiers, but let them show some damn emotions for fuck’s sake. One of the main reason why the OG!Soap’s death is really painful is because of Price’s reaction to it. How he said “NO. NO NO NO SOAP!!” While he shook Soap’s lifeless body in the table. At least let Price kneel to him, straighten his body, touch his vest. Close his eyes, gather Soap’s hand and PUT HIS GUN ON his chest all the while Ghost and Gaz knelt beside them. I do love the fact that they literally went to Scotland to let go of his ashes with Ghost holding the urn though. I cried in this scene.

And the fact that it happened with the shortest campaign out of all the reboot MW games, it just felt rushed. Yes. It’s completely rushed, there’s no doubt about it. Again, the result of rushed developments.

(+) Now, with that said, I kind of want to shed light on how Soap is literally the youngest guy in the group. He had so much to live for. He's a sunshine in the middle of this gruff emotionally hardened man. He's such a joy to be around. He's brave. He's fresh. The fact that he's got so much to live for adds to the sadness and bitterness, which I actually like.

Sometimes I do kind of like those kinds of deaths, where the character is too soon to die, because it hit so much harder and in a different way than the OG! one. We got to see the OG!Soap went from when he was an FNG, turn to a captain, to a man of fortitude that earned Price's honor and sacrificed himself to protect Price. We saw how he developed and changed. We saw his entire career with us throughout all the OG!MW trilogy.

Reboot!Soap's story barely even started, and the fact that he's still so young, imagining how he'd be one hell of an officer, how he'd lead his team in the future.

OG!Soap’s death is sad because all the times and memories we’ve been through with him, but Reboot!Soap’s death is equally sad for the times we could’ve gone through with him.

I want to say this though, some people said that Soap's death is sudden, but I wouldn't agree with that. I think the telltales are all there.

In the helicopter scene after Price and Soap caught him in Verdansk, Mak literally SAID HIS FULL NAME. That is a literal pinpoint death sentence from Makarov. And how emotional Soap’s reaction is compared to the other boys when the airport blew up. The signs are literally all there! I saw it coming actually.

So is Soap’s death rushed? Yes. Could it have been executed better? Yes. Is it for shock value? Yes. But is it as sad? Yes. Honestly, I blame the rushed development and due dates for this. Activision is a cash grabber who wanted a yearly release so they can catch more money. I fucking bet my ass that initially they didn’t want to kill Soap, but it’s like a last-minute decision to make this game actually look like it’s worth 70 dollars.

Like by the end of the game, nothing has been accomplished. Big Bad Guy is on the loose, and we lost Soap. Yea we did stop some of Makarov's attacks, but we ended with a loss. It's a completely sad ending. I just wish we get to continue with more missions after Soap's death like in OG!MW3 though :(

WHAT'S NEXT?

Now. Shepherd is positively fucken dead. Price is now an actual criminal and a fugitive. He just killed a 4-star US Marines general in his own office. Price is entering his insane and unhinged era. I do wonder if he'll go even more unhinged than this.

The story will undoubtedly continue in the MP seasons (although probably only 2 seasons that mattered because it'll also undoubtedly be filled with skins and collabs and shit). I think it will also focus more on transitioning to the next CoD games, which will be Black Ops (It is confirmed that for the 2024 and 2025 CoD, it will be Black Ops games).

We're talking future here, so if there's going to be a CoD MWIV, It might be possible that this is the game where we'll finally defeat Makarov while the 141 copes with losing Soap. I do wonder if Price will become too unhinged and will get rid of everything on his way to kill Mak. Price's reckless acts will become too much for Gaz that it's starting to hurt other people and himself, and Gaz will do something against Price's command or wish - and Ghost will have to choose a side. Now that's the kind of drama I want to see.

What do I score this campaign, what do I score this campaign... The story is actually good, but because the development is evidently rushed, the packaging feels a bit hollow. It's a 7/10 for me!

---

Wait you know what

We get to pet a dog named Riley. 10/10, Game of The Fucking Year.

Reboot!Logan/Hesh (?) 👀

---

So there it goes! If you've read this far I love you and Activision will pay for my therapy (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)

#call of duty modern warfare iii spoilers #call of duty modern warfare 3 spoilers #mwiii spoilers #mw3 spoilers #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #call of duty modern warfare III #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2023 #task forc 141 #tf141

693 notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months

Text

Daddy dearest (Rhaenyra/Harwin Daughter x Darkish Daemon Targaryen) (READER OR OC)

🔷Summary: You are Rhaenyra's and Harwin's daughter and you just proposed to Aemond, your stepdaddys worst enemy.

WORDCOUNT: 2159

🔷Author's note: This was a request, this is my first Daemon fic so i hope i did him justice without turning him into a carebear or a scary pookie.

🔷Warnings: Oc/reader is a brat, reader has clear empathy issues, reader has a daddy kink (liiiiiterallly) targcest!, dark!daemon, smut, p in v, fucking, desk fucking, choking, slut-shaming, high-treason, cheating, (daemon) slight gore, and dom/sub themes.

There is something about Targaryens that makes them a little more dangerous than other families. You have always known that. But there is something about you that makes you a little more dangerous than most Targaryens.

Like a dragon, you wish to be close to the fire, letting it consume your everything while you hiss at your pain. You always enjoyed creating drama and orchestrating plots. You have been good at it.

So, when your one-eyed uncle, Aemond Targaryen one day writes a sobby letter where he confesses his love and devotion to you, regrets killing your little brother, and vows that he will love you from the end of his days, it is not the prospect of peace that makes you happy. It is the prospect of war.

You write back, of course you do. You appeal to Aemond’s pride, his titles, his ‘’beauty’’ and most of all: His ego. You assume that the two of you will be married soon, should your mother wish it. Everything to avoid the war.

You happily brush your hair, thinking of all the good things that will hopefully happen to your family now. You love wearing your hair on a side-braid, the way Visenya wore hers.

You have just finished preparing for the day to come when your stepfather, Daemon Targaryen barges into your rooms. You don’t bow or greet him, instead you just smirk at his furious expression and red worked up cheeks. You fold your hands on your back and raise your chin with an innocent smirk. ‘’You seem upset.’’ You speak, your voice cheerful.

Daemon hands you an opened letter. You briefly scan the words and sigh, noticing the familiar awfully nauseating perfect handwriting of Aemond Targaryen. He brags to Daemon about ‘’Seducing’’ you and that you ‘’soon will be pregnant with child.’’ Inwardly, you roll your eyes, but you did suspect that Aemond would write Daemon about his ‘’conquest’’ of you. Of course he would. That is why you picked Aemond in the first place. He thinks you are being conquered but in reality he is a pawn in a plot he has no clue of. He is as a sheep being lured in the wolf’s den, unaware he is about to be slaughtered.

But you don’t let Daemon see your disgust at this, kinslayer waving his win in his rival’s face. Daemon is very worried for your safety. ‘’Are you insane, courting him? Have you forgotten what that child murderer did to our family?’’ As much as you miss Lucerys, you won’t kill yourself or others for his dead chewed up corpse. Luc would want everyone to get along and to make peace, not war. Which is why he died, as it is a very foolish way of handling enemies. You feel indifferent about his loss. You miss a bit, but you won’t trade a limb back for him.

You hand him the letter back. ‘’Yes. I am betrothed. Aren’t you happy for me?’’ It is almost funny how quickly his emotions change from utter rage and murder, to disappointment, to heartbreak and finally how all his emotion die and only a mask remains.

He becomes silent. The only thing you hear is the betrayal of your own heart beating. ‘’With Aemond?’’ He asks, now a bit calmer than previously. ‘’You know you can get much better.’’ He says. You don’t know who he refers to.

You roll your eyes. ‘’No, with Aegon. Of course with Aemond!’ You know he hates it when you roll your eyes.

‘’What the fuck do you mean with ‘’of course’’?’’’You giggle inwardly.

You blink rapidly, innocently.

‘’Daddy dearest, don’t cuss please. It’s very peasant-like. Aren’t you happy I’m finally engaged? You tried so hard to find a good suitor for me.’’ You grin.

‘’Your mother and I should choose your suitor! Have you thought about any of us during these games with Aemond?’’ More than he would ever know.

You sigh, lying easily.

‘’I will be honest, you haven’t both been on my mind very much.’’

You need a final push. You are so close. ‘’Daddy dearest, me and Aemond are meant to be. Soon I’ll carry his babies for him and make him a father when I polish his creepy sapphire eye for him while he breeds me as if I am livestock. You either adjust-’’ That is pushing it too far, part of you just knows it. You can see when you cross a line and you just did that. You see a reflection of danger and insanity in the eyes of Daemon, the man you’ve yearned for so long.

He grabs you violently by the throat, and you squeak pathetically when he drags you with him. Daemon has lost his patience with you and drags you with him as if you are a toy. ‘’Not another word. No one is breeding you. Not him at least.’’ With a push you are on your back, on your writing desk. Daemon throws several of your books and your quills on the ground, bending you under him. You pretend to groan but your lips are curled up in a smile, when he removes your smallclothes, pulling them down and exposing your body to him.

His big hands grab each of your asscheeks when you hiss in anticipation. He releases his anger on your poor behind but you can’t say that you mind. If anything, you love it. You wait for Daemon to finish his spanking before turning on your desk, revealing your other entrance to him. A glistering wet and needy entrance. ‘’Aemond rides the biggest dragon. Do you think his cock is the biggest too? I read something about men with funny noses-’’ You will never finish the sentence.

Your head is smashed down and you finally feel Daemon’s experienced hands touch your so eager cunt. You whimper, weak and softly when he takes a stance behind you, and you clench yourself when you hear the sound of his belt being removed. ‘’You want a man to breed you, you horny little slut? You want to be fucked and owned as a whore? Fine with me.’’ He groans in your ear when spitting in your face. You recoil in brief disgust before your legs are spread wide and open and his cock is forced deep inside of you, causing you to grunt against the wood of the desk. Daemon yanks you up by your arms, fucking you without speaking. You become a little light in the head as pleasure mixes inside of you, and you can’t believe it's finally happening. His cock feels good to have inside of you and once again you clench, needy as a whore.

Daemon grins in your ear when noticing your little cries and gasps of pleasure. ‘’You wish to be bred, little girl? You wish for your Kepa to make you his little whore?’’ He grins, using his Valyrian accent for that one word. You become even more aroused because of that and moan, weakly. Daemon sinks in back inside of you, pulling you up so he can fuck you when you lay on your desk. Your wooden deks cracks of the movements as Daemon takes your maidenhead on it, not giving a fuck for your sore museles or your begs.

‘’Daemon…’’

You are close to your heights. There are days just like these when you touch yourself, imagining it was him all along. And now he is, taking you as his spoils and fucking you the way a conquerer takes his spoils. You beg. ‘’Daemon..’’ You are spanked another time, this time on your cunny that is brutally fucked at the same time. You cry out in pain and glare at Daemon who simply smirks back at you, before dragging his nails into your skin, forcing you back on his cock for another good, but painful ride. You become used to the pain, and to the feeling of having a man inside of you. It is better than everything you ever did to yourself. ‘’Kepa, please…’’ You beg, pathetically.

Your stepfather has no mercy for you, grinning as if you are his enemy and this is your end. ‘’You are a little greedy whore. I won’t finish you off. The only one who comes is me, little Princess. Your Kepa will put a child inside your belly, perhaps that will teach you some respect.’’ He vows, riling you up against his cock until you nearly come.

You become even more aroused, fighting your desires and the urge to ride his cock. ‘’What if I’m not with child?’’ You ask, knowing you will like the answer very much.

Daemon pauses, the cock half inside of you, taunting you, torturing you. ‘’Then I simply must return and fuck you the way a dog fucks his bitch until you are, won’t I?’’ He breaths out, before taking you again on the desk. You are taken now quicker, faster and can barely keep up. Your cries become louder and freer and Daemon needs to wrap his free hand around your mouth to silence you when his cock fucks your body sore. The thrusts become rougher and more dominate and Daemon hits you again, and again and again on your ass when fucking you sore and likely very bloody. Yet you cry in approval, beg without words and plead for more by slowly grinding back against his body.

You see a determination that is very arousing in his eyes. He grabs your hips, impales you with his cock, all the way in and fucks you harshly and more animalstic than before. You lose count of how many he times he fucks you, but when he is finished, you can hear him grunt and you know his cum is inside your body right now. You remain on the desk, frozen, half undressed, and needy and naked.

Daemon grabs you by your throat once more, moving you to your bed. He throws you on it, grabbing a pillow. You protest but are turned on your stomach. He presses your face in the pillow so your cries can’t be heard and whispers in your ear. ‘’You’re going to become such a marvelous little mother for my son, Princess. Yes you will.’’ He murmurs against your belly. You whimper wordlessly.

His cock finds your body again and is pushed all the way in, when he kisses your hair and fucks you gently this time. ‘’Come for Kapa. Show me what a pretty obedient slave you can be for me.’’He whispers. You feel it build as he fucks you harder and harder and as your eyes close you cry out in the pillow he forces you on your mouth, soaking it in the process when Daemon fucks you when you scatter around him, breaking into million of pieces.

Satisfied with your state, Daemon removes the pillow and looks at your wet, but bloodied cunny. ‘’Such a good slut for Kepa.’’ He tells you with a smirk. You pant still in denial that that happened. He pats your belly next. You lean in and want to kiss him. ‘’Kepa..’’

But he pulls away, disgusted all of a sudden and angry. ‘’You will write to Aemond today. You will invite him to an inn somewhere close and you will seduce him. I want him to think mine child is his. I want to be there, when you reveal to him you played him and I want to see his pathetic little mind break at the betrayal you and me pulled on him.’’ He grins. You nod, absently.

‘’What if I don’t want to fuck Aemond?’’ You have seen the man and he seems very boring in the sheets, almost as boring as he is in the streets.

Daemon grabs you by your throat, choking you and you gasp, but you feel a different connection to him now. He seeded and sored you. He made you his in a way and you are now his little princess. ‘’Did I fuck your brains out, little dumb princess?’’ He groans out.

You are shocked as you gasp for air, worried it ends there for you. ‘’K-Kepa…’’

He sighs at your stupidity. ‘’You will fuck Aemond, you’ll be a needy little slut for him and fuck the shrimp he calls a cock, and you’ll pretend your baby is his.’’ What does that even accomplish?

‘’But we don’t know yet if I am even pregnant!’ You whisper distraught by the idea of bedding your uncle.

Daemon smirks. ‘’One of these days, you will be. I have had a taste of you, princess and I will be back. Your mother is not cutting it for me anymore. She is the love of my life, but love only does so much.’’ He speaks, petting your cheeks when you silently cry.

‘’Go make Aemond happy. Then we will destroy him. Together.’’ He promises you, with a kiss on your lips.

A/N

Aemond, thinking he has a pure valyrian woman waiting for him that will help him destory daemon:

HE HAS NO IDEA-

Yeah this was fun! Actually a lot of fun. I hope you guys liked it!!!

If you did be sure to let me knoww xxxx

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aemond targaryen #Dark daemon targaryen x reader #dark daemon targaryen x oc #dark daemon #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #dark fantasy #darkfantasy #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #fantasy

552 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 2 months

Text

Phee, New, and a Masterful Misdirect

I know I already said as much, but this week drove home again how strong DFF's writing is. Because the way this show used Phee to throw us off the scent until the end game was so, so smart.

In the first four episodes, our attention was deliberately drawn to Phee. He was established as part of one of the two romantic pairings, and we were encouraged to wonder wtf was up with his relationship with Jin. We were also given many subtle hints that Phee was acting suspicious and seemed to be intentionally investigating the boys, while Tan stayed kind of vague and in the background. Tan seemed to know Phee better than the rest, and many guessed he might be helping Phee, but for the most part, the focus was on Phee.

Then as we moved into the flashback, Tan disappeared for four entire episodes, while we get a major reveal about Phee's relationship with Non and lots of time spent on its dissolution. So of course, the prevailing theory becomes that Phee is the one orchestrating this whole investigation and tormenting these boys in the woods. And the assumption is that he's doing this because of his deep love for Non, his shame for not supporting Non when everything hit the fan, and his conviction that he was done wrong. Tan is once again assumed to be helping him, though theories differed on why, with some guessing he was Non's brother and some speculating on other reasons.

But it turns out, Phee isn't running this operation at all. "Tan" is New, and he has been the driving force the entire time. It's his guilt over leaving Non alone to go abroad that motivates him to investigate, and he pulls Phee along with him.

And Phee? Well, he's not quite as broken up about Non's death as we thought. Sure, he wants to understand where Non went and why, for closure. But he doesn't seem to be carrying any huge burdens of guilt or shame, which makes sense because aside from Non's screenplay that alludes to culprits he doesn't name, he doesn't actually know the truth about Non's situation with Keng or what any of these boys did. He jumps into a romance with Jin incredibly quickly, and it's clear the attraction and his feelings are genuine even as he justifies it to New by claiming it's for the investigation. He takes Jin to the place where he asked Non to be his boyfriend, so apparently this is not something he holds sacred. The morning after he has sex with Jin, Phee is in Jin's room while he's asleep, and does not take the opportunity to investigate. Instead he moons over Jin, cuddles up to him, and instigates morning sex. He is still staring off into space smiling to himself about it until New accuses him of cheating on his brother, at which point he remembers what he's supposed to be doing, makes his excuses, and puts up walls with Jin.

And from then on, they don't seem to learn much of anything, and I suspect that Phee doesn't really want to, because he likes Jin and doesn't want to know what he did to Non. Phee, as it turns out, is just an immature high school boy who liked his boyfriend, but moved on pretty quickly once it was over. He would not be doing any of this if it wasn't for New, and it's clear his heart isn't in it. New is the one who feels deep guilt, who wants to learn what the group did to Non, and whose trauma compounds until he snaps and hatches a plan to trap them at the vacation house and dose them with hallucinogens. Phee goes along with it, but as we saw, his motive seems to be more about reconnecting with Jin before he leaves the country than actually caring about punishing these boys for what happened to Non.

What a great, nuanced little twist to this reveal. New has been the one running the show the whole time, and the show managed to keep that from us via a classic misdirect with Phee. I love that this show manages to keep finding ways to surprise us even when we have some of the picture figured out.

#dead friend forever #dff the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

311 notes · View notes

lorena12me · 8 months

Text

My little contribution to Bernard's AU as part of the court of owls!

Even if I was a thousand years late for the Coo! Bernard AU but in my defense they are an acquired taste lol I had to slowly get exposed to the idea of Bernard as part of the court of owls but damn I love it now!

Ok, so for this Au, Bernard and Tim are a couple, Tim hasn't told Bernard that he's Robin but he knows (due to court of owls surveillance stuff), but instead of Bernard wanting to hurt Tim or turn him into a Talon and that, what Bernard wants most is to see Tim shine.

He wants to see his Robin save the day, he wants to see him capture the villains, save Batman's life, solve the mysteries, he wants Tim to be the center of a show just for him. But he wants all reactions Tim has to be genuine (what's the point of the actor realizing he's onstage?), so he'll manipulate everyone and everything around Tim just to see how they react and deal his couple with these situations.

Things get out of hand when Bernard orchestrates an escape from Arkham for Tim to deal with, but Tim was supposed to fight Ivy! Joker wasn't supposed to be there! Joker was supposed to go after Batman, in his usual way repetitive eternal battle of order against chaos. Joker decides to torture Tim and broadcast it live to the whole city as a way to hurt Batman (and maybe he was planning to do something like Joker Junior), but Bernard won't allow it. If it had been any of the other Batfam members, Bernard would have been entertained by the show and supported Tim's efforts (behind the scenes) to get the missing member back, but he wouldn't have interfered. But he's not going to let his main star go out like this. It's time for a cut scene.

It's time for the owls to enter the stage! The court's maze looks like a good place to start the next act! (after healing Tim, of course).

How will Robin deal with them? Bernard is excited to share the stage with his beloved Tim!

#tim drake #timbern #bernard dowd #timber #red robin #dc #tim x bernard #my art #robin tim drake #tim drake x bernard dowd #Coo! Bernard #coo bernard #court of owls

622 notes · View notes

captainjamster · 2 months

Text

Observation Duty

Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3

If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!

Full fic under the cut <3

John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.

Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.

He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”

Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”

Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”

It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.

With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”

They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.

They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.

John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.

At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.

He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.

When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.

The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.

A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.

Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you’re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.

His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.

He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.

The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.

You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.

His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.

The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.

But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.

There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.

The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.

For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.

The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.

A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.

Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.

The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.

As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.

The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.

He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.

You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.

It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.

All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.

He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.

Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.

If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.

Dividers by cafekitsune

#READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE BABIES!!!!#price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon

220 notes · View notes