#and if i close my eyes i will hear my brain and that is NOT something i should do when anxious and stressed out

[evnseokz]

hii, hope you're doing well!

i'm thinking... bf!jungwon asks to record the sounds while doing sex and his gf decides to surprise him by asking him to cum inside

my first ever ask!! thank you so much for sending 🫶 hopefully i did this suggestion justice ^_^

pairing: bf! jungwon x f. reader

contents: p in v, unprotected sex (do nawt be like them), recording of moans/sex, pet names: baby, babe, kissing, nipple play

w.c. 640

his cock was nestled deep inside you, stretching you out so well. his thrusts were slow and deep, his tip kissing your cervix. your hands gripping his biceps as hard as you could, moans spilling from your lips.

jungwon was obsessed with the way you sounded, your moans being like music to his ears. an idea popped into his head. “baby, can i record your moans please?” he asked suddenly. your eyes which were closed previously, shot open, blush creeping onto your cheeks. “w-what?” you ask, slightly embarrassed at the question. “it’ll be for my ears only babe i swear, just for when i’m away and need to hear you.” he replied sensing hesitancy in your voice. you chewed on your lip as you racked your brain for an answer. finally you nod, jungwon not wasting another second to lean over to grab his phone off the nightstand and hit record. he set the phone down next to your body and focused his attention back to you and only you.

he continued his thrusts into you, light whimpers still falling from your lips, but now hyper aware of the phone recording you, you seemed to be holding back. “c’mon baby let me hear you” jungwon pouted. jungwon picked up his pace without warning, thrusting into you with speed, thus causing loud moans to fall from your mouth. jungwon smiled in satisfaction as he brought his hand down to your heat, and started rubbing circles on your clit. you cry out, the combination of him filling you up so well with his cock and the attention to your clit being all too much. jungwon smirked to himself, feeling you clench around his cock, he groaned slightly.

he can tell you’re close, his thrusts never slow and he leans down to capture you in a kiss. “feels s’good won” you mumble against his lips, he breaks away, and peppers kisses down your neck and to your chest. he brings his mouth down to your nipples, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nubs. the extra sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body, your orgasm ripping through you as jungwon continues to thrust in and out of you, seemingly chasing his own high. “w-where do you want me? i’m c-close” he stutters slightly. you contemplate in your head for a moment. “baby hurry and answer i can’t last much longer” he whines.

you wrap your legs around his waist trapping him in place as he continues to thrust inside you. you can tell he’s holding himself back from cumming, and you giggle slightly at his frustration. “baby it’s not f-funny” his head hangs as his balls begin to tighten. “i’m serious where do you want me” he says again. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to be face to face with you, “inside” you say simply. you bite your lip, starting to feel overstimulated from his thrusts. shock is written all over jungwons face, “a-are you su-“ “yes.” you cut him off before he can even finish his question. you smash your lips into his, clenching around him slightly as you feel a second orgasm bubbling up in your stomach. he moans loudly, his hips stuttering and his thrusts becoming sloppy, emptying his seed into your cunt. your second orgasm follows shortly after, milking him for everything he has.

he reaches to his phone, pressing end recording and then he collapses on top of you, you shrieking slightly at the sudden weight on your body. “wonnn you’re heavy” you whine. he slowly lifts himself up, looking you in your face, “sorry baby, you were just too good” he smiled before dropping down to pepper your face with kisses. you giggle, managing to capture his lips into yours for a quick kiss. he pulls away, “i love you so much” he says, “i love you so much my wonie.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

What the fuck is a PBM?

TOMORROW (Sept 24), I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Terminal-stage capitalism owes its long senescence to its many defensive mechanisms, and it's only by defeating these that we can put it out of its misery. "The Shield of Boringness" is one of the necrocapitalist's most effective defenses, so it behooves us to attack it head-on.

The Shield of Boringness is Dana Claire's extremely useful term for anything so dull that you simply can't hold any conception of it in your mind for any length of time. In the finance sector, they call this "MEGO," which stands for "My Eyes Glaze Over," a term of art for financial arrangements made so performatively complex that only the most exquisitely melted brain-geniuses can hope to unravel their spaghetti logic. The rest of us are meant to simply heft those thick, dense prospectuses in two hands, shrug, and assume, "a pile of shit this big must have a pony under it."

MEGO and its Shield of Boringness are key to all of terminal-stage capitalism's stupidest scams. Cloaking obvious swindles in a lot of complex language and Byzantine payment schemes can make them seem respectable just long enough for the scammers to relieve you of all your inconvenient cash and assets, though, eventually, you're bound to notice that something is missing.

If you spent the years leading up to the Great Financial Crisis baffled by "CDOs," "synthetic CDOs," "ARMs" and other swindler nonsense, you experienced the Shield of Boringness. If you bet your house and/or your retirement savings on these things, you experienced MEGO. If, after the bubble popped, you finally came to understand that these "exotic financial instruments" were just scams, you experienced Stein's Law ("anything that can't go forever eventually stops"). If today you no longer remember what a CDO is, you are once again experiencing the Shield of Boringness.

As bad as 2008 was, it wasn't even close to the end of terminal stage capitalism. The market has soldiered on, with complex swindles like carbon offset trading, metaverse, cryptocurrency, financialized solar installation, and (of course) AI. In addition to these new swindles, we're still playing the hits, finding new ways to make the worst scams of the 2000s even worse.

That brings me to the American health industry, and the absurdly complex, ridiculously corrupt Pharmacy Benefit Managers (PBMs), a pathology that has only metastasized since 2008.

On at least 20 separate occasions, I have taken it upon myself to figure out how the PBM swindle works, and nevertheless, every time they come up, I have to go back and figure it out again, because PBMs have the most powerful Shield of Boringness out of the whole Monster Manual of terminal-stage capitalism's trash mobs.

PBMs are back in the news because the FTC is now suing the largest of these for their role in ripping off diabetics with sky-high insulin prices. This has kicked off a fresh round of "what the fuck is a PBM, anyway?" explainers of extremely variable quality. Unsurprisingly, the best of these comes from Matt Stoller:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/monopoly-round-up-lina-khan-pharma

Stoller starts by pointing out that Americans have a proud tradition of getting phucked by pharma companies. As far back as the 1950s, Tennessee Senator Estes Kefauver was holding hearings on the scams that pharma companies were using to ensure that Americans paid more for their pills than virtually anyone else in the world.

But since the 2010s, Americans have found themselves paying eye-popping, sky-high, ridiculous drug prices. Eli Lilly's Humolog insulin sold for $21 in 1999; by 2017, the price was $274 – a 1,200% increase! This isn't your grampa's price gouging!

Where do these absurd prices come from? The story starts in the 2000s, when the GW Bush administration encouraged health insurers to create "high deductible" plans, where patients were expected to pay out of pocket for receiving care, until they hit a multi-thousand-dollar threshold, and then their insurance would kick in. Along with "co-pays" and other junk fees, these deductibles were called "cost sharing," and they were sold as a way to prevent the "abuse" of the health care system.

The economists who crafted terminal-stage capitalism's intellectual rationalizations claimed the reason Americans paid so much more for health care than their socialized-medicine using cousins in the rest of the world had nothing to do with the fact that America treats health as a source of profits, while the rest of the world treats health as a human right.

No, the actual root of America's health industry's problems was the moral defects of Americans. Because insured Americans could just go see the doctor whenever they felt like it, they had no incentive to minimize their use of the system. Any time one of these unhinged hypochondriacs got a little sniffle, they could treat themselves to a doctor's visit, enjoying those waiting-room magazines and the pleasure of arranging a sick day with HR, without bearing any of the true costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/27/the-doctrine-of-moral-hazard/

"Cost sharing" was supposed to create "skin in the game" for every insured American, creating a little pain-point that stung you every time you thought about treating yourself to a luxurious doctor's visit. Now, these payments bit hardest on the poorest workers, because if you're making minimum wage, at $10 co-pay hurts a lot more than it does if you're making six figures. What's more, VPs and the C-suite were offered "gold-plated" plans with low/no deductibles or co-pays, because executives understand the value of a dollar in the way that mere working slobs can't ever hope to comprehend. They can be trusted to only use the doctor when it's truly warranted.

So now you have these high-deductible plans creeping into every workplace. Then along comes Obama and the Affordable Care Act, a compromise that maintains health care as a for-profit enterprise (still not a human right!) but seeks to create universal coverage by requiring every American to buy a plan, requiring insurers to offer plans to every American, and uses public money to subsidize the for-profit health industry to glue it together.

Predictably, the cheapest insurance offered on the Obamacare exchanges – and ultimately, by employers – had sky-high deductibles and co-pays. That way, insurers could pocket a fat public subsidy, offer an "insurance" plan that was cheap enough for even the most marginally employed people to afford, but still offer no coverage until their customers had spent thousands of dollars out-of-pocket in a given year.

That's the background: GWB created high-deductible plans, Obama supercharged them. Keep that in your mind as we go through the MEGO procedures of the PBM sector.

Your insurer has a list of drugs they'll cover, called the "formulary." The formulary also specifies how much the insurance company is willing to pay your pharmacist for these drugs. Creating the formulary and paying pharmacies for dispensing drugs is a lot of tedious work, and insurance outsources this to third parties, called – wait for it – Pharmacy Benefits Managers.

The prices in the formulary the PBM prepares for your insurance company are called the "list prices." These are meant to represent the "sticker price" of the drug, what a pharmacist would charge you if you wandered in off the street with no insurance, but somehow in possession of a valid prescription.

But, as Stoller writes, these "list prices" aren't actually ever charged to anyone. The list price is like the "full price" on the pricetags at a discount furniture place where everything is always "on sale" at 50% off – and whose semi-disposable sofas and balsa-wood dining room chairs are never actually sold at full price.

One theoretical advantage of a PBM is that it can get lower prices because it bargains for all the people in a given insurer's plan. If you're the pharma giant Sanofi and you want your Lantus insulin to be available to any of the people who must use OptumRX's formulary, you have to convince OptumRX to include you in that formulary.

OptumRX – like all PBMs – demands "rebates" from pharma companies if they want to be included in the formulary. On its face, this is similar to the practices of, say, NICE – the UK agency that bargains for medicine on behalf of the NHS, which also bargains with pharma companies for access to everyone in the UK and gets very good deals as a result.

But OptumRX doesn't bargain for a lower list price. They bargain for a bigger rebate. That means that the "price" is still very high, but OptumRX ends up paying a tiny fraction of it, thanks to that rebate. In the OptumRX formulary, Lantus insulin lists for $403. But Sanofi, who make Lantus, rebate $339 of that to OptumRX, leaving just $64 for Lantus.

Here's where the scam hits. Your insurer charges you a deductible based on the list price – $404 – not on the $64 that OptumRX actually pays for your insulin. If you're in a high-deductible plan and you haven't met your cap yet, you're going to pay $404 for your insulin, even though the actual price for it is $64.

Now, you'd think that your insurer would put a stop to this. They chose the PBM, the PBM is ripping off their customers, so it's their job to smack the PBM around and make it cut this shit out. So why would the insurers tolerate this nonsense?

Here's why: the PBMs are divisions of the big health insurance companies. Unitedhealth owns OptumRx; Aetna owns Caremark, and Cigna owns Expressscripts. So it's not the PBM that's ripping you off, it's your own insurance company. They're not just making you pay for drugs that you're supposedly covered for – they're pocketing the deductible you pay for those drugs.

Now, there's one more entity with power over the PBM that you'd hope would step in on your behalf: your boss. After all, your employer is the entity that actually chooses the insurer and negotiates with them on your behalf. Your boss is in the driver's seat; you're just along for the ride.

It would be pretty funny if the answer to this was that the health insurance company bought your employer, too, and so your boss, the PBM and the insurer were all the same guy, busily swapping hats, paying for a call center full of tormented drones who each have three phones on their desks: one labeled "insurer"; the second, "PBM" and the final one "HR."

But no, the insurers haven't bought out the company you work for (yet). Rather, they've bought off your boss – they're sharing kickbacks with your employer for all the deductibles and co-pays you're being suckered into paying. There's so much money (your money) sloshing around in the PBM scamoverse that anytime someone might get in the way of you being ripped off, they just get cut in for a share of the loot.

That is how the PBM scam works: they're fronts for health insurers who exploit the existence of high-deductible plans in order to get huge kickbacks from pharma makers, and massive fees from you. They split the loot with your boss, whose payout goes up when you get screwed harder.

But wait, there's more! After all, Big Pharma isn't some kind of easily pushed-around weakling. They're big. Why don't they push back against these massive rebates? Because they can afford to pay bribes and smaller companies making cheaper drugs can't. Whether it's a little biotech upstart with a cheaper molecule, or a generics maker who's producing drugs at a fraction of the list price, they just don't have the giant cash reserves it takes to buy their way into the PBMs' formularies. Doubtless, the Big Pharma companies would prefer to pay smaller kickbacks, but from Big Pharma's perspective, the optimum amount of bribes extracted by a PBM isn't zero – far from it. For Big Pharma, the optimal number is one cent higher than "the maximum amount of bribes that a smaller company can afford."

The purpose of a system is what it does. The PBM system makes sure that Americans only have access to the most expensive drugs, and that they pay the highest possible prices for them, and this enriches both insurance companies and employers, while protecting the Big Pharma cartel from upstarts.

Which is why the FTC is suing the PBMs for price-fixing. As Stoller points out, they're using their powers under Section 5 of the FTC Act here, which allows them to shut down "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The case will be adjudicated by an administrative law judge, in a process that's much faster than a federal court case. Once the FTC proves that the PBM scam is illegal when applied to insulin, they'll have a much easier time attacking the scam when it comes to every other drug (the insulin scam has just about run its course, with federally mandated $35 insulin coming online, just as a generation of post-insulin diabetes treatments hit the market).

Obviously the PBMs aren't taking this lying down. Cigna/Expressscripts has actually sued the FTC for libel over the market study it conducted, in which the agency described in pitiless, factual detail how Cigna was ripping us all off. The case is being fought by a low-level Reagan-era monster named Rick Rule, whom Stoller characterizes as a guy who "hangs around in bars and picks up lonely multi-national corporations" (!!).

The libel claim is a nonstarter, but it's still wild. It's like one of those movies where they want to show you how bad the cockroaches are, so there's a bit where the exterminator shows up and the roaches form a chorus line and do a kind of Busby Berkeley number:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/news/2024-09-20-the-carlton-report

So here we are: the FTC has set out to euthanize some rentiers, ridding the world of a layer of useless economic middlemen whose sole reason for existing is to make pharmaceuticals as expensive as possible, by colluding with the pharma cartel, the insurance cartel and your boss. This conspiracy exists in plain sight, hidden by the Shield of Boringness. If I've done my job, you now understand how this MEGO scam works – and if you forget all that ten minutes later (as is likely, given the nature of MEGO), that's OK: just remember that this thing is a giant fucking scam, and if you ever need to refresh yourself on the details, you can always re-read this post.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[fumiliar]

self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.

your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.

"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.

kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.

"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.

"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.

"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"

"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.

"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.

"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.

"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.

"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.

"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.

"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.

restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.

"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.

"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.

"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.

"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.

"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.

"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.

"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.

"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.

"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."

kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.

"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hiii

I saw your requests were open , can you please do a wolverine x reader smut/Fluffy oneshot where he is sucking on afab readers Breasts (like a soft moment between the two of them) and then wade accidentally walks in and teases Logan later :)

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play

"You look so beautiful tonight," Logan told you as he pulled your shirt over your head, pressing his lips to yours afterwards. He then placed himself on top of you, his lips kissing yours in a sloppy manner as he helped you lie back on the bed, his hands resting gently along your back as they fiddled with the hooks of your bra. It came off pretty easily and Logan tossed it to the floor next to him.

He kissed his way over you to your cheek, down to your jaw, moving to your neck then all the way down to your chest, whispering sweet nothings as he did to. He got to your chest and began to nip at the skin, loving to hear you gasp as he did so.

He then diffused it with his tongue before going in with a suck, repeating the motion over and over, eating up the soft moans that were falling from your lips. He moved down slowly, making his way to one of your tits, pressing soft kisses all over it before wrapping his lips around your nipple, giving it a rough suck.

"Logan," you moaned, your hands moving to his back, your nails digging into his skin and he groaned in response, continuing to suck while his tongue swirled around it, taking his time as he wanted to savor his favorite part of having sex with you.

Most time this was all you did, letting Logan have his way with your tits for hours at a time, not coming up air until both of them were bruised, shining his spit. It had become so often that most times you weren't even wearing a bra just to make it easier for him to get to you.

Usually he was pretty rough, but that night, he was nothing but soft and gentle, wanting to be soft and sweet about the whole thing. Logan had been looking forward to it the entire day, trying not to get distracted by it during his mission, but somehow, you always made your way into his brain, taking up every single part of it.

He continued to lick and suck, getting lazy with it, but you hardly minded, as long as he kept going, you were fine. You just needed to feel his lips, his tongue on you. He was just so talented with his mouth that you wanted it anywhere he could get it.

You were close, you could feel it. Your eyes were threatening to roll back and your back arched as he took your nipple between his teeth, biting down ever so slightly, but that caused you to come completely undone just like always.

"Oh my god," you whined. "Harder."

Logan pulled away from you to look at you, his hands moving down to rest on your waist. Your eyes were pleading and damn it, he hated when you did that, knowing that he would give in, doing whatever you asked.

"Honey, I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll be fine. Just do it, please." And without a word, Logan brought your nipple between his teeth once more, biting down as hard as he could would actually hurting you and that was when you hit your peak, a loud moan leaving your lips.

And just as you had reached your orgasm, not even through it, the door to Logan's room was thrown open, Wade on the other side, mid question before he realized what was going on. And then you were screaming for an entirely different reason.

Logan immediately grabbed the other side of the blanket that you weren't lying on top and quickly threw it over your body to cover you up. He then turned to glare at Wade and if looks could kill, he would have been dead.

"Get out," you commanded through grit teeth, grabbing a pillow from next to you and throwing it at him, the thing hitting him directly in the chest.

"Jesus christ," he said as he covered his eyes. "You know, the doors have locks for a reason. Use one next time." He then slammed the door shut as Logan crawled off the bed, quick to lock the door, turning back to you to make sure that you were okay.

"I'm okay," you assured him. "I think we should go to bed now," you said, all of your desire now entirely gone.

"I think you're right," he nodded as he grabbed a t-shirt from his closet and handing it to you. You threw it on as he got into the bed next to you, nothing but silence between the two of you as Logan turned out the light.

The next morning, the two of you were hesitant to leave Logan's room as you hadn't wanted to run into Wade. You were far too embarrassed as not only had he watched you orgasm, but he had also seen your tit that hadn't been covered my Logan's face.

Logan on the other hand, was just angry. Mostly on your behalf. You had wanted to keep your relationship a secret and now someone knew. The one person who was a blabber mouth.

After hearing your stomach growl, he took it upon himself to sneak downstairs to get you something for breakfast. He honestly didn't care what Wade had to say. He just wanted him to say whatever he had been thinking just to get it over with.

He didn't know why Wade had been mad at him. He was the one who had opened the door without knocking. And had stood there for far too long before leaving. Logan wasn't really that upset, but Wade had embarrassed you and that wasn't okay. No one was allowed to hurt you and get away with it.

Logan let out a sigh when he saw Wade in the kitchen making pancakes. He moved to the pantry to grab something that was all ready to go and yelped once he turned to see Wade standing behind him, a plate of pancakes in hand.

"These are for you," he said, holding out the plate. "They're "I'm sorry I walked in on you having sex with your girlfriend" pancakes. Well, I hope I was right in assuming she was your girlfriend, which in that case, nice work, buddy," he clapped Logan on the shoulder. "But if she's not, then that's okay still. I mean, she's really-"

"I'm good on the pancakes, Wade. And don't ever mention what happened again or I will make sure that you can never have sex again."

"Are you flirting with me? Don't let your girlfriend hear that," Wade winked and in response, Logan grabbed the plate from him with a smile before heading to the trash can, dumping the breakfast food into it, looking Wade directly in the eye as he did so, his smiling growing wider as a look of offense flashed across his friend's face.

And with that, he set the plate onto the counter before grabbing a few different options from the pantry then heading back up the stairs to make up what Wade had interrupted the night before, and he was going to remember to lock the door.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Are you sure you're okay?"

The hero couldn't only hear the villain's heartbeat increase, they could also feel it. Sense it.

Most of the time, the hero managed perfectly to incorporate this (very unfortunate) condition of theirs into their normal life. It wasn't much of a burden and immortality, although they hadn't had it for long, turned out to be quite interesting.

"Yup," the hero said. But the hunger was probably the worst part about it.

The first few weeks, the hero had taken rather embarrassing measures and slaughtered farm animals outside of the city. Although it was enough blood to satisfy them, it turned out that being a vampire wasn't primarily about the blood.

It was about the power. When their prey struggled, the hero's mood improved considerably and not only that, they also didn't need to feed on something alive for quite a while after a pleasing kill. It was about the struggle, about the fight.

About sinking their fangs into soft, warm flesh. It was about survival.

"You are drooling all over my wrist." The villain did not act like it but the hero knew they were scared. Their heart was raging and their pupils were blown up, almost like they feared the hero would attack them any second now.

But, of course not. The hero could control themselves perfectly. After all, they were supposed to serve the people of the city.

The hero was a specialist when it came to figuring out how to change. When the farm animals had started to become unappetizing, the hero switched to blood donations - which was surprisingly even worse - and suffered ever since.

But they prevailed.

It was part of the deal, they supposed. Vampires suffered just like people did and they couldn't betray the trust the people had put in them.

"A little greedy, aren't ya?" the villain asked and when the hero looked at them, they realized their lips were already on the villain's wrist. Their own fingers dug into the villain's forearm and they had, in fact, slavered all over their enemy's wrist.

Slowly, they parted from the villain's arm and ultimately, let go of it. It wasn't even embarrassing. The hero had accepted that they weren't quite "normal" anymore and that was fine.

Supposedly, their thoughts had carried them away. In general, the hero tried to minimize contact with people but the villain was kind of...unavoidable. And with the hunger? With the villain always being this close? What was the hero supposed to do?

"You didn't listen to me in the slightest, huh?"

The hero stared at them, almost dumbfounded. They couldn't tell when their brain had shut off, all they knew was that they had been injured pretty badly. The villain had found them. They had passed out. And now, they were in the villain's apartment.

Without hesitation, the hero looked down their body and lifted their shirt. Instead of the open and bleeding wound, there was a fresh scar on their abdomen, quite painful but not as bad as before.

That probably explained the hero's demonic hunger - they needed energy. Lots of it.

"Not really."

"I suggested..." The villain stared at their wrist full of saliva and rubbed it on the hero's shirt dry. Before the hero could say anything, the villain put a hand on their thigh and squeezed gently. They leaned over. "...that you might be in better hands if you joined me."

"Pff." The villain's heart was going crazy by now and the hero was impressed they were hiding it so well. Fear was a horrible feeling but ultimately, that was exactly what the hero found so satisfactory. "What's this? Seducing me to the dark side? What a pathetic attempt."

The hero raised their index finger, as if to lecture the villain.

"I have sworn to protect-"

"-every citizen of this city with all the power and mightiness I can offer, blah blah blah. I know," the villain said. "But have you considered that we might be..." The villain's hand crawled up the hero's thigh and the hero's eyes widened. "...more powerful together?"

"I am not interested in power," the hero said.

"Hm," the villain answered. They touched the hero's cheek gently and it became quite impossible to ignore the villain's heartbeat. Especially when their wrist was this close to their head. The villain smirked. "Is there nothing I can offer you?"

The hero stared into the villain's eyes and didn't dare to look away, not even when the villain shifted their hand so their wrist brushed the hero's lips.

"There is absolutely nothing...?" The hero could feel the blood pumping through the villain's veins against their lips. Images of the villain begging and moaning shot into the hero's head. Them turning, them somehow enjoying it when the hero let their kisses turn into bites.

Salvation came in many ways and the hero supposed they had been wrong.

It wasn't about fear. It wasn't about seeing someone or something struggle. It was about deliverance.

Deliverance from life. Deliverance from…other things.

It was torture either way and it slowly dawned on the hero that for the second time, they had been wrong. The villain was probably not afraid of them.

Christ, the hero wanted to bite. They wanted to break skin and taste blood.

They could have been gentle. They could have been really gentle for the villain.

"Well..." The villain pulled away their wrist and tilted their head, leaving the hero with a black hole in their stomach and a tendency for extreme violence they tried to hold back. "You know where to find me, in case you change your mind."

They smiled a sweet smile but the hero considered them to be a special kind of demon at the moment. Straight from hell, straight to torture them.

The hero gave back a pained smile, clearly moments away from snapping. But not even that hindered the villain from kicking them out of their apartment promptly.

[dylandaydreams]

reader casually mentioning to patrick during a hookup he's the first guy they've been with and him thinking is hot (bisexual king)

anon i’m so sorry this took me so long but you truly rewired my brain with this one, thank you!!

[nsfw below the cut, minors dni!]

you & patrick had mutual friends & were introduced to each other over dinner & drinks, your gazes lingering over each other long enough for your friends to understand what was going on & push you two to sit next to each other for the night. a few drinks in & you were more loose lipped than usual, free of your usual inhibitions. so when your friends suggested a game of never have i ever, you went along with it rather than calling it childish or immature like you usually would. so did patrick.

a few typical rounds passed, drinks being sipped & laughter occasionally ringing out from someone in the group. as both of you get more intoxicated, patrick’s hands start to wander. previously, one had sat on table while the other rested on his thigh, but now it was on your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

“okay, okay!” one of your friends laughed, their eyes sparkling with a new question. “never have i ever… faked an orgasm?” a chorus of groans ring out in the room, & everyone except you & patrick take a sip of their drink. you share a knowing smirk, & he gives your thigh a squeeze that makes heat pool in your stomach. “wait, seriously?” your friend questions, making your break eye contact with patrick. you shrug. “yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve only slept with women, i guess.” you laugh. your friend rolls their eyes in amusement & someone else moves to continue the game, but the sentence has barely left your mouth when you feel patrick shift next to you, rubbing the hand that’s not resting on your thigh on his face. “really?” he asks softly once your friends have resumed playing. his eyebrows are raised in shock, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that makes you shift a little in your seat.

you shoot him a glance, a smile curling at your lips. “yeah, really.” you confirm again. he nods slowly & his gaze wanders away from you for a second, focusing on a faraway point behind you before his eyebrows furrow & he meets your eyes again. “but like, by choice?” he presses. you laugh again. “i didn’t know this was such a big deal.” you tease. he tilts his head to the side & raises an eyebrow, not an ounce of embarrassment regarding the rather personal question he just asked, just curiosity. the game your friends are playing is now long forgotten.

“not necessarily by choice.” you clarify, absentmindedly taking another sip of your drink before you speak again. “just happens to be that i’ve never had sex with a guy. yet.” this last word you mutter under your breath, hoping patrick is too drunk to hear you. but if his wide grin & his hand’s grip on your thigh means anything, he definitely hears you.

once the night draws to a close, you both say goodbye to your friends, & don’t even try to be discreet about leaving together, knowing your friends’ whistles & cheers would’ve followed you out of the bar regardless of how secretive you might’ve tried to be.

~

once you get to your house, patrick can’t seem to be able to peel your clothes off of you fast enough. “fuck.” he mutters into your mouth, both of your lips glossy with spit. “can’t believe i’m gonna be the first- oh shit, first guy to fuck you.” he finishes his sentence with difficulty & closes his eyes, his own words overwhelming him. “sure you’re gonna last that long?” you tease him, amused by his shamelessness.

he takes your comment as a challenge & pulls your shirt off of you before capturing your lips again. you wrap your arms around his neck & pull him closer, & his hands slide down to your ass, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. you comply & mumble “first door on the left.” into his mouth to guide him as he carries you to your bedroom. patrick discards his shirt somewhere on the floor of your room & then places you on the bed before laying beside you. you run your hands & then your tongue over patrick’s chest, licking & sucking & biting. he’s laying back on the bed & watching you, letting you have your fill. patrick’s trying to let you explore but his patience is quickly running out.

thankfully, you quickly reach his boxers, possibly even more impatient than he is. seeing his length through his boxers makes your eyes go wide a little & he chuckles. “you okay, pup?” he teases. “you’re big.” you reply softly, palming him through the fabric & making him groan. “mm, yeah.” he groans. “gonna let me put it all inside you, huh?” you nod as you pull his boxers down & move to take him into your mouth. “spit on it.” patrick requests, his eye glinting with amusement. you hesitate for a second but ultimately follow his request, letting drool pool on your tongue before opening your mouth & letting it slide down to his cock.

“fuck, that’s good.” patrick says, his eyes rolling back as you take him into your hand & start stroking him. “can i put my mouth on it?” you ask after a couple of minutes of just using your hands. his hips cant up into your hands at your question. “yeah, you want my dick in your mouth?” he presses. you nod & he grins. “sure baby, go ahead.” with his consent, you lower your mouth onto him & start laving kitten licks onto his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue before spreading it all across his cock. “fuck, that’s good.” he hums, watching you explore with an attentive & heated gaze. you suckle on his tips & his hips buck into your mouth, pushing himself further into your throat & making you gag. “sorry.” he grins, not sounding very sorry at all.

you roll your eyes at him & try to take him back into your mouth, but he pulls you off. “nuh uh baby, wanna fuck you.” he states, reaching for your boxers. you let him peel them off of you & then lay back on the bed. patrick crawls over you & spreads your thighs apart with his strong hands. “gonna make you feel real good.” he mutters, almost to himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. he shoots you a quick glance to make sure you’re okay, & the kind gesture in the middle of such a heated moment makes your clit twitch. he smirks like he knows & you’re about to tell him to shut up, but then he’s pushing in & the words die on your tongue.

“fuuuuuck.” patrick drags the word out, his mouth open & his eyes shut in bliss as he sinks into you. when he bottoms out he opens his eyes to check in with you. “good?” he asks. you nod & grab his hip, urging him to move. “patrick, i’m not made of glass.” you tease. “fuck me like you’re the only man who’s ever going to.” your words immediately light a fire in his eyes, & he pulls out only to slam back into you. “oh, so you want it like this?” he spits out, his hips rocking into you with speed that makes your eyes well with tears & your breaths come in gasps. “want me to take care of you huh?”

you nod as he continues to pull in & out of you, bringing you closer & closer to your climax. your arms wrap around him & you rake your nails down his back, feeling his hips kick into with more fervor at your actions. “so- so good, pat.” you manage to gasp out between thrusts. he grins. “yeah, feels good?” he mocks. you’re helpless to his goading, any sense of shame now long gone. his arms move to push your legs from around his hips to over his shoulders, reaching an even deeper spot inside you & making you whimper.

“yeah, that’s it, huh?” his eyes sparkle with delight at your reactions. you’re moments away from orgasming, & if the pulsing of his cock is anything to go by, patrick is too. “fuck, baby.” he exclaims, his confident facade falling for a moment to let you see just how good you’re making him feel. one of his hands slides from your thigh to your lower stomach, pressing down to hear you gasp at the sensation. “daddy’s gonna make a space for just for him right here, baby.” his words make you gasp & you clutch his arms, desperate to cling onto something solid while his hips continue drilling into you & his mouth continues spilling filth.

“no other man’s gonna fuck you like me.” he gasps out against your mouth, & you nod as he reaches down to brush your clit, sending you over the edge. you moan loudly as you orgasm, & patrick finishes inside you moments later with a moan of his own. he keeps thrusting shallowly for a few more seconds before pulling out, watching his cum drip out of your hole. “fuck.” he grins.

you can’t help but agree.

[ohlordi]

Is it casual now? - matt sturniolo !

pairing: fem!reader x matt sturniolo

summary: you're not entirely sure what's going on between you and matt but its not 'just casual'.

warnings: 18+ smut, angst (a tinyyyy bit), oral (f receiving), p in v (wrap it before u tap it ༝༚༝༚)

a/n: my first ever fic wowweeee!! im aware its not too long and im sorry if its all over the place.. I haven't written anything in such a long time, but I hope you enjoy and I promise my writings will get better !

NOT PROOFREAD

“I told you, it's just casual between us.. you said it yourself at the start, 'no attachments'”

his words swarmed around in your mind as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling fan, replaying the conversation you and matt had earlier on that week.

yes you said no attachments at the start, but hearing those words get repeated back to you hit you like a train. it had made you feel undesired, maybe you were being a bit too dramatic over a boy, but god what happened to the matt who captivated you with his appealing and promising persona.

did those few months mean nothing to him?

all those persistent mornings cuddled up to his side, laying in his bed or all those nights spent with messy hair, glistening skin, soft moans and unmeaningful i love you's floating around the room.

he knew everything about you, every birthmark, every insecurity and every worry that raced around your head. but you were 'just casual' to him.

in the beginning it really was just nothing other than two friends having 'fun' and disappearing into one another's rooms, but one time matt had took you out for a drive as he was 'bored' and there was nothing to do back at his house, after a while of driving around matt pulled over his car and made his way into the passenger seat footwell, his eyes staring into yours. he flicked his tongue inside of you, slow at first but as you were getting closer his speed was getting faster. you had a handful of his hair locked into your hand, tugging on it. he looked up at you once more with a flash of cockiness in his eyes as he smirks bringing you over the edge. you both came, matt in his pants, you all over matts face, he crawled back into the drivers seat grabbing your chin, bringing you in for a kiss as he wipes his chin and starts driving back home.

You stare at him the whole ride home, brain foggy but one thing stuck out to you in your mind. How is he so beautiful, even after all of that..

is it really just casual?

another time being when you flew to boston with him to go see his parents and they took you to a elegant restaurant, you had known his family for a few years so it was never awkward, you always felt so welcomed when you were around them.

You were deep into a conversation with matt's parents when u feel a slight tap on your shoulder.

'im going to the bathroom' matt mouthed to you as you just nodded your head and went back to the previous conversation you were having.

5 minutes later you receive a message from matt

Come to the bathroom quickly.

You excuse your self from the table as you make your way over to the bathrooms. One thing leads to another and you're swiftly bent over the bathroom stall's sink, matt right behind you thrusting into you like it was his last night on earth.

“Always such a brat huh? is this what you wanted?” matt sharply said as you nod your head sheepishly making matt roll his eyes, giving you a sharp slap on ur ass.

“Close” you manage to mumble out as you feel matt get rougher, sliding his hand down to your clit making you whimper from the sensitive touch. using his other hand he covers your mouth, just as you let out a pornographic moan

“im gonna fill this pussy up so much” matt groans out, clearly speaking without thinking.

You both finish, he helps you clean yourself up before leaving the bathroom back to the table as if nothing had just happened.

Your phone pings, ripping you out of your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. You check who messaged you, heart dropping as your eyes begin to swell up with tears.

Matt.

Im sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it.

Can we talk?

Please.

[rs-hawk]

Beauty and the Beast library smut please? 🙏

Since I'm doing a double upload today, "Day Three" will be a second part to Day Two. If you'd like me to continue this story or anything else for Beauty and the Beast week, my asks are open!

CW: obviously this fic contains smut and graphic depictions. It is intended for an 18+ audience. Slight dubcon/noncon?, breeding, knotting, cum, excessive sizes, pain, overstimulation, biting, blood, etc

It didn't take long for Beast to finish, his cum covering his hand and splattering on some of the books in front of him thanks to his hiding spot of the bookshelf. However, for poor Belle, she was just bringing herself to the edge repeatedly, but unable to push herself over. She was unable to keep up the pace she had set for herself with all of those fingers pushing into herself, as well as play with her clit, but when she stopped either, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

Beast continued to watch her as she moaned and cried, trying to set a more brutal pace to stretch herself on her fingers when she stopped circling and playing with her clit. She groaned in frustration and annoyance, it just wasn't as good without the additional stimulation, but she couldn't keep up both. Stuffing her fingers inside of her cunt, she whimpered, rocking her hips down on her fingers.

The scent of her arousal and desperation was so thick in the air that it was already making Beast's brain fuzzy, but when she once again cried out his name, he couldn't control himself. He made his way around the side of the bookshelf, immediately pushing her hand to the side and replacing her fingers with his tongue. She gasped, arching her back as his large tongue found its way deep inside of her sweet cunt, tasting how wet and aroused she was. Beast growled, grabbing her hips and pinning her down when she tried to move.

In seconds, Belle was cumming on his tongue. When she did, her body sagged back slightly, her hole pulsing pathetically around his tongue as if trying to milk him. Beast grinned as he pulled back, his large teeth teasing her inner thighs as he ran his tongue and teeth along the sensitive skin there. His fur was soaked with her juices, which embarrassed her, but he couldn't seem to care any less.

"You didn't have to do that," she said shyly, trying to close her legs to prevent him from seeing just how desperate she was for more.

"I wanted to," he muttered, roughly pushing her legs apart.

She began to squirm slightly in his chair. While she was attracted to him, she still had problems trusting him, and wasn't sure if she wanted him to continue touching her. When she opened her mouth to voice these thoughts, though, he took the opportunity to kiss her, shoving his tongue in her mouth. She groaned against it, tasting herself all over him. His large claws quickly shredded her clothing, leaving soft pink lines that sprung up in places where he had clawed at her clothing too hard.

With the pad of his finger, so as not to hurt her with his claws, he began to circle and play with her clit. She whimpered quietly, squirming again to get away from his touch. It was too much after such an intense orgasm. With his other hand, he yanked her back to him, pinning her down so it was easier to play with her clit. He pulled her tongue out of her mouth, letting her gasp and the sound of her whining be louder, filling the room they were in.

"Beast please," she whined, struggling against his strong grip. "I can't. It's too much."

"Isn't this what you were just begging for? For me to play with you? To use you for my own pleasure?" he growled lowly, his tongue darting out to lick one of her nipples, making her whine again. "Or do you want me to skip to the cumming inside of your pretty pink pussy?"

Belle blushed, her own words being repeated back to her making her feel embarrassed, almost ashamed. She couldn't believe how raunchy she had made herself sound. Granted, she hadn't expected Beast to hear her, but surely she had to have known that there was a chance, right?

While Belle was rethinking her actions, Beast took the way that she was still soaking wet and how her clit was reacting to him as an invitation. Lining up his huge cock with her tiny hole, he slowly began to push himself inside of her. This snapped her out of her thoughts, making her cry out. Even stretching herself with her fingers was no preparation for this. She was being stretched so so slowly, but only because he was moving inside of her slowly. One harsh snap of his hips and she would be wrecked, impaled on his giant length.

She tried moving off of him again, but he pinned her down, his claws digging into her skin. Now her movements annoyed him, making him bare his fangs at her, his tail flicking in irritation as he still made his way slowly inside of her.

"Isn't this what you wanted? To be pinned down and used by a monster?" he growled, having to be more rough with forcing himself inside of her when about half of his cock had been pushed inside of her. "You were just begging me to knot and use you. You went into my library, read my book, sat in my chair, and touched your wet little hole while crying my name, begging for my cock. What, now you don't want it?"

She couldn't respond, crying as she came around his cock again. She was already so close from how he had been teasing her clit again, that between his words and how his cock filled her completely, she couldn't help herself. She felt even more embarrassed, but the gush of it allowed Beast to finally bottom out inside of her.

He roared, biting on her shoulder. Part of him felt bad as the taste of her blood rushed into his mouth, but the way that she was hugging his cock drowned out any voice of guilt. She was pushing down on his cock, grinding against his knot. The things she was saying only came out as incoherent babbles, but clearly she was eager for more. For whatever he could give her, and he planned on just that.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕❤️

[sgt-tombstone]

Candy Red

So... my angst brain took over and I decided to finally type out an idea I've been sitting on for a while. Please heed the content warnings because this is a pretty gruesome one. Take care of yourselves and feel free to yell at me in the notes!

CW: brief mention of sexual assault, brief mention of child slavery, canon-typical violence, angst, hurt/no comfort, rough sex, breaking up

Read it on AO3 here!

----

The world was cruel.

Soap knew that better than most. In his time in the 141, he had seen some of the worst atrocities the world had to offer; brothers turned against brothers for the sake of profit or hatred, women trafficked and subjected to horrific violence, children bought and sold like sheep at the market. He'd seen enough blood to half convince him of Old Testament justice, of the biblical plagues of Egypt, of the End of Days.

The cruelest thing he'd ever been forced to witness, however, was the body of Simon Riley twist and warp as a barrage of bullets tore through his skin and muscle, bursting veins and shattering bones, before falling to the ground in a heap. Soap himself had been close to bleeding out, propped against a concrete wall that was more rubble than structure, and had been afforded a front row seat to the devastation; like a train wreck in slow motion, he hadn't been able to look away. He had watched in abject horror, his heart lodged somewhere in his esophagus instead of safely behind his ribs where it was supposed to be, as Simon's blood flowed freely, pooling in the dirt where boots and bullets alike had gouged the earth. He'd watched as Simon had collapsed, and he'd watched as Simon didn't get back up. And he didn't get up. And he didn't. Get. Up.

He woke up in the hospital two days later, brain and muscles sluggish with pain meds and a constant slew of fluids injected directly into his veins. His left thigh was a mess of stitches and bandages, blessedly blood-free but liable to start leaking again at the first hint of movement. There was a drain tube stitched in place, because apparently his body was pumping puss like nobody's business, and the sound of it dripping into the metal basin beneath him sent waves of nausea through his chest.

Gaz was sitting next to him, his chair pulled close, his head in his hands, looking as gaunt as Soap had ever seen him. He wondered if his fellow sergeant had slept at all since his hospitalization or if he'd spent the entire two days staring at the heart rate monitor, like it'd stop the second he glanced away.

There was a second beeping noise, slightly offset from Soap's own pulse, and he tilted his head as quickly as he dared, holding his breath to keep the bile at bay. He needed to know if it was Price or Ghost; if their stupid, self-sacrificing stunt had put anyone else in the line of fire or if they had miraculously gotten away with it. He needed to know if Simon had given his life to save Soap's. He needed to know if he'd need to dig his dress blues out of his-

His gaze landed on the sharp slant of Simon's nose, the jagged edge of the scar bisecting Simon's lip, the blond eyelashes fanning over Simon's sharp cheekbone, and his chest collapsed on a silent sob. Tears stung at his eyelids, clinging to his own lashes, and he tossed his head back to the middle of his pillow to keep them from falling because he couldn't lift a hand to wipe them away. He gritted his teeth against the wail that built in his chest, the keening cry that fought its way up his throat, muscles tightening until he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't stop the tears from overflowing, running in rivulets past his temples and into the shaved sides of his head.

"Soap?"

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of Gaz's voice, rough from disuse, or maybe just misuse, because Soap could still hear the echoes of his panicked screams in his ears, reverberating between the steady beats of the heart monitor. He and Gaz had seen each other at their absolute worst, coated in blood, collapsing from exhaustion, screaming in hot-blooded rage, but he didn't want Gaz to see him like this. He didn't want Gaz to see how utterly broken he was.

"Get Price," he whispered, and breathed a sigh of relief when Gaz skimmed his fingers over the back of Soap's hand as he stood to leave.

----

It took three weeks for Simon to be released from the hospital and eight more for him to be green-lit for strenuous exercise again.

Soap stayed as far away from him as possible the entire time.

First, because he was healing from his own aches and pains, the bullet hole in his thigh stubbornly refusing to close on its own, blood and puss leaking from it like a faucet, and he'd been forced to ride a desk until the stitches held long enough for the gaping wound to suture itself back together. After that, he avoided Simon because of the guilt.

It was a tender, aching, thorny thing, stuck somewhere behind his clavicle, stabbing skin and bone every time he took a breath. The doctors had been concerned about pneumonia, and he hadn't had the heart to tell them that he couldn't take a deep breath without his lungs trying to force their way out through his rib cage, without his heart squeezing impossibly tight, stuttering over each beat like it wasn't convinced it wanted to keep expending the effort that living required.

He became as much of a ghost as Simon. He spent a grand total of three hours in his room over the course of those eleven weeks, opting instead to catch catnaps in whichever corner seemed the darkest. He'd lodge himself behind stacks of crates, protected by the shadows of automatic rifles and hand grenades and armored trucks. He slipped in and out of the mess hall in silence, unnoticed and ignored, because John MacTavish was a loud soldier, and the man who lurked in the halls of Credenhill was not. Gaz looked at him askance every time he saw him, concern etched into every plane and wrinkle of his face, eyes heavy with worry that encroached on fear, but Soap brushed him off, citing pain and worry of his own for his lack of sleep. Neither of them mentioned the fact that he was making himself purposefully hard to find. Neither of them mentioned how adept he was at it.

----

They fell into bed together twelve weeks and three days after their bodies had been riddled with brass and lead.

They were in Simon's room, Simon pressed against his own locked door, Soap's hands and mouth wandering frantically over every square inch of skin he could find, like he was relearning every dip and divot of Simon's body. Like he was memorizing it all over again, etching it into his memory. Simon's body was hot against his, their skin burning where they were pressed together, aching to get closer. Soap broke their panting kiss to tug Simon's shirt over his head and Simon reciprocated in kind, letting their palms wander over healed skin and new scars, reverent.

"I'm okay, Johnny," Simon whispered into the still air between them and Soap wanted to sob, wanted to climb inside of Simon's chest and live there like a hermit crab in a Ghost-shaped shell, wanted to tear Simon apart, rib by rib, until he could hold the warm, bloody, beating muscle in his hands, could feel it constrict with every pulse, could feel it throb in time with his own. He ached with want.

Instead, he pulled Simon bodily away from the door and shoved him towards the bed, barely giving him any time to adjust before settling his weight on top of him, framing Simon's hips with his thighs. The stretch pulled at his newly-healed scar, but he didn't relent. His jaw ached with the need to feel Simon's skin between his teeth and he let himself indulge, warmth flushing through him at the sound of Simon's groan, low and breathy. Simon's hands burned like brands where they arced across Soap's bare back, leaving trails of embers smoldering under his skin.

He blinked and blood coated his mouth, thick and heavy on his tongue, where his teeth were lodged in Simon's flesh, biting down harder with every stroke of Simon's finger across his hole, thick and probing, slick and teasing. They were completely naked, their hard cocks pressed side by side, velvet heat emanating off of their bodies in waves, and Soap didn't know when that happened, but he wasn't going to complain, not when he had Simon's fingertip dipping past the tight ring of muscle. His eyes rolled back with the stretch, like an itch he couldn't scratch finally sated, except that it wasn't enough. He needed more, needed to be pulled apart like taffy, needed to carve himself hollow until he was a husk, ready and willing to house the very essence of Simon Riley.

He rocked back against Simon's fingers, pushing them deeper, stretching himself wider, until he was panting with it, his breath hot against Simon's blood-coated chest, viscera dripping with every exhale, bright against pale skin. Simon's other hand cupped the back of Soap's head, fingers carded through overgrown hair, keeping him in place.

Finally, Soap felt Simon's lube-slicked cock press against his hole, hot and cold and soft and hard all at once, and he keened at the pressure, overwhelming as Simon split him open. He could hear Simon whispering above him, soft words spoken directly against the crown of his head, but he couldn't parse them out over the static in his blood, whiting out his hearing until his ears were ringing, the high-pitched tinnitus of one too many explosions at close range, but he craved just one more.

When Simon started thrusting, it wasn't soft or gentle. It was the frantic, frenzied movements of a man who had nearly died to save the love of his life, who had nearly been forced to watch his partner bleed out into the dirt right in front of him, who had been helpless to do anything but sacrifice himself in the vain hope of at least dying together. It was the first brush of warm skin, the steady pulse under seeking fingertips, the barest exhale against a bare palm. It was relief, pure and simple, except relief was never simple. It was life, and Simon was grasping it with both hands.

Soap went fuzzy after that. He tried to stay present, tried to soak up every moment, but his mind drained out through his ears as Simon used him, nailing his prostate with every thrust. There was blood, not just in his mouth, but under his nails; he was scratching Simon's chest and arms, presumably, hard enough to draw blood, but Simon was doing nothing to discourage him. If anything, he arched up into it, begging for the sensation as fervently as Soap wanted to inflict it. Corpses didn't feel pain, and the dead didn't bleed.

Cum mixed with blood as Soap tripped over the edge; Simon's hand wrapped around his cock, Simon's blood painting his teeth, Simon's cock massaging his prostate. Pale skin adorned in red and white, and then Simon's body clenched, every muscle tightening as he spilled inside of Soap. Warmth, endless warmth, in and around him, and it took no effort at all to tip over into unconsciousness, the steady rhythm of Simon's heart loud in his ear.

----

"What the fuck is this?"

Soap blinked awake, immediately aware of the chill that had become his bedfellow at some point in the night. Something heavy hit the bed by his feet and he belatedly registered the deep growl of Simon--no, Ghost--standing over him. He tilted his head, confusion swimming to the forefront as he squinted up at Ghost.

"Wha-"

"Did you request a transfer?"

Oh, fuck.

Soap sat up, his gaze landing on the stack of papers that Ghost had thrown onto the bed, neatly stapled with the damning heading clearly visible at the top. Transfer Request. Signed and dated by one John "Soap" MacTavish the day he'd woken up three months ago. The second date, penned in by the owner of the second signature, one John Price, was far more incriminating; today's date. The day of his transfer.

He stood up and pulled on a pair of sweats, refusing to take this conversation laying down, or naked. And then they were both standing in the middle of Ghost's room, several feet between them, and it felt like an immeasurable, insurmountable gulf.

"Aye," Soap said defiantly, because he had. He remembered, through the haze of tears and drugs and pain, signing his signature on the dotted line. Price had questioned him over and over, but Soap had refused to give in. His hand had been shaking, his vision blurry, but he'd signed with conviction, the same conviction he felt now, hot in his veins.

"Why?"

It was all Soap could do to hold onto that conviction in the face of Simon's soft question. It escaped on a sigh, a small, broken thing that was more breath than sound, and Soap wanted nothing more than to rip the paper to shreds, to cross the divide between them and wrap Simon in his arms. The single syllable cut into Soap's skin like a knife, leaving a trail of blood behind, and only Simon's touch would mend it. But he couldn't. For both of them.

"You're compromised," he said, forcing his voice to take on a hard edge, an uncharacteristic flatness, and he barely held himself back when Simon visibly flinched.

"I'm compromised?" Simon hissed, pain and betrayal dripping from every syllable. "Were you- Did Price-"

"I requested it," Soap interrupted. "Price didn't make me do anything."

"Why?" Simon repeated, and he sounded desperate now. Soap ground his teeth together, tasting the remnants of Simon's blood along his gums, and stayed silent. "Since when have you been the responsible one here?"

It was a joke, or at least an attempt at one, a tear-soaked effort, but it landed flat and heavy like a grenade, and Soap could feel the air thicken as they stared at it, wondering if it was a dud or if they would both get caught in the blast.

"One of us has to be," he said flatly, and the grenade exploded. Heat and pain flared across his chest, throbbing in time with his heart, and he couldn't meet Simon's gaze. He stared resolutely at his chest, at the pink scars that pocked his skin, and drew tenacity from the sight. "I'm reckless, Ghost," he said, shaking his head helplessly. "I always will be; nothing you can do about that. I'll not have ye killin' yerself to save a lost cause."

"A lost-" Simon breathed, then cut himself off, his face crumpled in devastation. "Johnny."

"It's already been approved, Ghost," Soap said, a little unkindly, just harsh enough to cut them both, a little pain to force Simon back a step.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you."

"Will you ever come back?"

Soap let the silence stretch between them, speaking for itself. The truth was that he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. He had seen the way Simon had let himself crack, had reveled in the glimpses he saw behind the mask, had delighted in being one of the only people who got Simon instead of Ghost. But he hadn't expected the ruin it would cause.

Neither of them could guarantee each other's safety; it was the job. They regularly put themselves directly in several convergent lines of sight, laser scopes pointed directly at their hearts and minds. That fact had never bothered Soap before. And then he'd met Simon, and he'd seen how viscerally Simon reacted to the sight of a laser sight aimed at Soap's head. He'd seen the lengths that Simon would go to to protect him, and he couldn't let that happen.

"Will I ever see you again?" Simon whispered, and Soap hated himself for the way his breath hitched.

"I hope not," he said. Every bone in his body buzzed at the lie, but he refused to let it show. "I hope you forget about me, Ghost. By the time I'm KIA, I hope that you'll have forgotten my name."

"Never," Ghost snarled, hot and sudden, but Soap didn't let himself roll over.

"One day I'll die," he continued, keeping his voice as apathetic as possible, like the words weren't scorching his throat as he said them. "There's nothing you can do about that. It'll be easier for you to lose me now."

"Easier?" Simon asked incredulously. "Is any of this easy for you?"

No, God no. The words sat at the tip of Soap's tongue, trapped behind his teeth, and it took everything he had not to let them loose. Nothing about this was easy. But neither was laying in that hospital bed with nothing to stare at except Simon's unconscious body, swathes of shredded skin on full display as the nurses changed the dressings. Neither was clinging to the sound of a heart monitor throughout the night, every silent beat a held breath, hoping that it wasn't the last. Neither was laying next to the love of his life, waiting for him to die, and knowing he was the reason he was there at all.

"The man I love wouldn't do this," Simon pleaded. "The man who loves me wouldn't do this. Don't do this, Johnny, please."

"It's already done, Ghost."

"Simon," Simon breathed. "Why won't you call me Simon? What changed?"

Nothing. But Soap couldn't say that. It was the truth; he loved Simon with every fiber of his being, and that would never change, but he couldn't say that. Instead, he scooped his shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head, and stepped around Simon to the door.

"Do you still love me?" Simon asked, rushed, like it took every effort to force the words out before Soap opened the door and broke the bubble around them once and for all. "Did you ever love me?"

Soap paused, his hand on the doorknob, and squeezed his eyes shut to stop his tears from falling. He did. He did, and he always would. God, he loved Simon like the sun loved the moon. Even now, he craved Simon's touch, craved Simon's smile, his laugh, his fond eyes. He craved and he ached. But he had to stay strong. For both of them.

"No," he said at last, pulling the door open. He heard Simon's sob echo in the room behind him, broken and desolate, and every muscle in his body strained with the need to run to him. He could feel his heart breaking in his chest with an audible crack, splintering until every shard was lodged deep in the surrounding tissue, lacerations that would never heal for as long as he lived. He could only hope that Simon's would, that Simon would be able to pick the pieces back up and tape them back into some semblance of a functioning organ. He could only hope that Price and Gaz would be there to soothe the sting until the cuts scarred over, until Soap's name was said with anger or indifference rather than grief, until Soap was nothing more than a smudge on the horizon. A bitter memory, a long-lost almost, a name on a mission report.

He forced himself to step outside and close the door on the sound of Simon's grief. It was better this way. It had to be. It was the only way Simon would survive.

----

When he stopped by Price's office later that day, he saw the same stack of papers waiting for him, stapled neatly, heading damning. Transfer Request. Signed and dated and absolute. Price fixed him with a scrutinizing look, a little too soft for Soap's liking, and their handshake lasted just a moment too long.

"Good luck, sergeant," he scowled, his displeasure evident in every line of his face, but he hadn't stopped him from signing the papers on the first place.

"Thank you, sir," Soap said. "It was an honor serving with you."

"I hope you know what you're doing, son," Price grunted. "He won't give up that easily."

All he could do was nod as Price handed him the stack of papers. They felt like dead weight in his grip and he tightened his fingers, the sheets crinkling slightly against his palm. Price walked him out to the tarmac where the plane was waiting, cargo and soldiers alike loading into its belly. Gaz was waiting for them, enveloping Soap into a bone-crushing hug as soon as he was within sight.

"I'll miss you, Soap," he said, his lips pressed close to Soap's ear to be heard over the airfield din. "Stay in touch, yeah?"

He knew that he wouldn't, but he nodded anyway, tears prickling at his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," Soap responded. "I-"

"I know," Gaz interrupted, pulling back to look Soap in the eyes. "We'll take care of him for you."

"Thank you."

----

As the plane took off, engines roaring and frame trembling, Soap settled back in his seat, his head resting on the metal hull, and waited for reality to sink in. His body felt charged, a live wire disguised as blood and muscle and bones, and his fingers played with the edge of the paperwork in his hands. He idly flipped through it, making sure every dotted line had its appropriate signature, and when the stray piece of paper fluttered out, he grabbed it reflexively, instinct more than intent.

When his brain registered what it was, he couldn't stop the flow of tears. He read the address over and over again until he couldn't read it anymore, until the words were smudged with drops of water, until he was sobbing into his glove, pressed tight against his lips.

If you change your mind, you know where to find me.

[zopharooni]

"Waking up"

A short DMAU story

Suddenly I found myself kneeling on cold stone, and... by the five it's bright here.

Where... am I?

I dig into my brain to remember, what happened?

Pain. A splitting headache, no, migraine. What is this feeling? I force myself up, yet failing, collapsing back onto the cold stone. A ritual stone. My limbs are trembling and quaking, almost unresponsive to my commands. A sharp pain in my chest makes itself apparent, and as I draw in a breath, my stomach churns and threatens to make a mess of the ground below me. Forcing the feeling back down, I feel nothing but heat, my mind spinning, the world around me fuzzy.

Two figures make themselves known, familiar, yet I cannot bring myself to remember who they are. Any thought that comes close to piecing it together is fiercely torn apart by the pain circling in my skull. I see their mouths move and... wait... I can't hear them?

The revelation is swiftly interrupted by another wave of nausea, yet this time, I fail to keep it contained. The acid stings my throat and mouth, bringing an awful taste along with it.

I force myself to stand, disgusted by the result of this terrible illness that has afflicted me. Succeeding, I take a better look at the 2 figures, now running at me. Heretics? Coming for my crown? No, I can't let this happen. I take a step backwards, and my vision begins to fade. They are right on me as I stumble backwards and begin to fall. Wait, is that...?

Darkness.

I awaken again, this time on a bed. I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness once more, and briefly taking in my surroundings, it appears to be a medical bay. Various books, bottles and herbs litter the surrounding tables. The stand to my side has a bowl of soup, and a cup of tea.

The darkness persists. I can't move, the illness forcing my body to shut down.

Over an unknown amount of time, I can occasionally catch glimpses of movement in and out of the medical bay. A rat, and a goat. Who are they? I feel I should know, but my condition betrays me. Both seem to monitor me. The rat never staying too long, always seeming occupied, yet... Concerned.

But the goat? It stays for longer. Sitting by my bed and observing. I swear I can see it's mouth move, as if speaking to me.

Light. I feel myself awakening. My bones weak, muscles aching from lack of activity. Yet, I can finally think straight. My memories are still foggy, but I'm sure they will come with time. Right now, I need to get a better look at that rat. Who are they? I should know this.

As I look around the medical bay, able to fully take in what's happening, the goat is there. Staring, as if in disbelief, and yet a slight concern in it's eyes.

I know this goat.

"You!" I mutter.

I leap from my bed, feeling a sudden vitality upon seeing his face.

He steps back, surprised by my lunge, yet too slow to get enough distance.

I rapidly close the small distance, arms outstretched...

and swiftly embrace him in a hug.

"Solomon... By the five, I've missed you..."

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 23: Under a Spell

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jun (cold)

Caregiver(s): Mingyu (virtually)

Word Count: 878

Notes: Two Jun fics in a row. It's almost like he's my bias-wrecker or something.

“Junnie-Hyung!” Mingu cheered instantly when the Facetime call was accepted. He had been biting his lip, hoping that Jun wasn’t busy. He could’ve always left a voicemail if so, but he just really wanted to talk with Jun tonight. And the feeling appeared to be mutual; the sight of Mingyu made his hyung smile on impact. 

“Mingyuuuu!” Jun exclaimed, shifting around to a more comfortable position. He appeared to be on a couch, wherever he was. “How are you?”

“I miss youuu!!!”

“I miss you too! How are promotions going?” His voice sounded off to Mingyu, but he figured it was the audio quality. 

“Amazing, hyung!” Mingyu sighed. “Everything has been going so smooth, but it’s just different without and Hannie-hyung.”

Jun pouted. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. You’re living your dreams right now! How’s filming?”

“Filming is going great! My scene partners have been fantastic, and…” Jun broke off, disappearing off the screen, sneezing twice.

Mingyu’s face fell. Something in his brain clicked. “Hyung, are you sick?”

Jun nodded, swiping at his nose. “Yeah. Just a cold, though.” 

It was Mingyu’s turn to pout. “I’m sorry to hear that…” 

“It’s okay, really. It was bound to happen. I had to get thrown in a pool for a scene the other day, and wet clothes plus cold weather plus AC blasting inside PLUS erratic sleep hours…” He shrugged. “It’s more annoying than anything.” He sniffled, rubbing at his nose again. “Besides, I’ve had worse.”

“But we’re not there to take care of you!”

“No, and that’s definitely been felt. Luckily I have the next two days off anyway, and my cast mates have been really kind…”

“But they're not us,” Mingyu interrupted. 

Jun shook his head. “No, they’re not you.” 

Mingyu couldn’t fight the frown off his face. Yes, of all the members, Junhui was probably one of the most adept at taking care of himself when sick; he never made a fuss about it but advocated for his needs and spoke up to let others know what was going on, took his medicine and drank plenty of fluids and slept as much as possible. But just because Jun was self-sufficient didn’t mean he had to be. When he was at home, in the dorm, with his team, they knew how to take care of him without being asked. Mingyu knew exactly how Jun liked his tea, knew which blanket in the living room he preferred, knew the recipes that comforted him the most. And knowing that his brother was so far away from all that… it broke his heart.  

“Gyu? Are you still with me?”

“Y-yeah. I’m just… bummed that you’re sick and I can’t be there with you.”

Jun laughed. “I’m pretty sure you have better things to do then hang out with me and my germs.”

“Okay, fine, I’d rather not hang out with your germs, but I’d take them if it meant I could hug you.”

“Are you homesick for me?”

Mingyu blinked. “Honestly, yeah, I think so. Aren’t you?” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He slapped a hand against his mouth, eyes comically wide. 

Thankfully Jun laughed before his smile turned thoughtful. “Desperately. But I am also so happy to be here. This all feels so…”  He began to move his hands in a circle, searching for the right word. He opened his mouth to respond, but pitched forward with another sneeze instead. “See, I don’t even have words for how much I miss you!”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Should I let you get back to resting, then?” 

“No, no, I want to hear about the comeback!”

“Are you sure?”

Jun nodded. “Talking with you has been the highlight of my week.”

So, beaming brighter than the sun, Mingyu talked. He explained every detail of their comeback from practice to pre-recording to performances. He explained their outfits, their sets, the memes and jokes that they’d created. After a few minutes, distracted in his story, Mingyu noticed that Jun’s eyes had slipped closed. He hadn’t noticed when that had happened. 

“Hyung? Are you still with me?”

Jun smiled before opening his eyes. “Yes, I’m listening. Your voice is putting me to sleep, though, it’s so peaceful. It’s like magic.” 

“Adila kiya akiya shurapoeh / With a language only we know, I cast a spell,” Mingyu sang softly. Jun beamed. Mingyu continued singing, starting back at the top of “Spell.” Jun moved his shoulders along to the beat, arms twisting and winding in an interpretive version of the actual choreography. Mingyu’s voice grew sillier in time with Jun’s movements until both of them were giggling hysterically. 

Suddenly a knock came on Mingyu’s door. He turned to see Joshua poking his head in, gesturing that it was time for dinner. Mingyu nodded before turning back to the phone. “Okay, hyung, I’m so sorry but I gotta go.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for chatting so long. I love you, Gyu.” Jun formed a heart with his hands. 

Mingyu copied the gesture. “Love you too, Junnie. Feel better soon, okay? Pretend I’m there giving you the biggest hug in the world.”

Jun wrapped his arms around himself. “I can feel the love.” 

“Good. Bye, hyung.”

“Bye bye!” 

[shirayuricky]

(oh you sound so busy 😓 and a month is so close omg may uni be take it easy with you, fighting!! i'll look foward to it then I'm sure it will be so good 🥹)

fluff but hard thoughts (???)

this one is REALLY long .. i'm sorry !!

well, it's so embarrassing and a bit weird / cringey actually but i thought about it out of sudden and can't get it off my head pls help (pleasee ignore this if u don't like it im so embarrassed so i apologize if u think it's too weird 😅

rlly ah why i thought abt it 🫠

this is abt gunwookie btw i love him smmm

for reference i wanted to add those pictures of him wearing that snorlax onesie but i don't know why i can't add images here

reader lives alone on her apartment so she's always spending her free time doing the things that makes her happy. she rlly enjoys having these self-healing times but still feels kinda lonely sometimes, that's when she ends up falling asleep cuddling her GIANT teddy bear she got on one of that big claw machines. only when she feels lonely, she tells herself. she is good on her own... but who is she lying to? she hugs that bear so tightly every single night, that's her best friend. she didn't got close to anybody at college and the routine is tough, that fluffy bear is the only one that always hear the feelings she holds deep down her heart and she feels comforted by that she even named him and takes it all around the house, when she's watching movies, cooking and baking or just being. one night she got so worked up after watching a romance movie with unexpected hot scenes that she just couldn't sleep thinking about it. suddenly she felt her body heat up while still holding tight to her bear cause she thought hugging him again would help her sleep faster even tho it didn't. instead, she started slowing grinding on it searching for some kind of relief. when she realized she was whimpering against the bear's soft cheeks and couldn't stop riding it so she started crying she felt so needy, sad and hopeless at the same time. she felt asleep bc of all the crying and her heart breaking she just wished her teddy bear could hug her back and take care of her.

deep in her sleep she felt a really soft touch, caressing her thighs, her waist and then hear face. she tought it was a dream, but when she felt a small kiss on her cheek she woke up to the sight of the prettiest guy she's ever seen and he was smiling so prettily and sweet but still he was a stranger, obviously she would scream. her high pitched scream almost broke the cute boy's heart. why was she screaming like this after telling him i love you every night. he was teary-eyed.

"WHO TF ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GOT IN MY ROOM YOU PERV?" she was freaking out, who wouldn't though? she was so disturbed by the vision of a unknown -tall as hell- man IN HER BED wearing fcking bear pajamas. who is tryna prank her?

he tilted his head to the side in confusion and said "it's me gunwookie"

she blinked like five times before widening her eyes and again asking herself if this is a prank, how could it be, no one knows about her shameful friendship with a teddy bear, so how could he knows the name of it? he must be a stalker.

"what are your intentions? why are you... stalking me? how do you know me?"

and he looked even more confused than her

"i just wanna take care of you, i love you so much too, it was you who brought me here and I'm so thankful that you treat me so well" he smiled again

something sparked on her brain and she looked around her room searching for the giant teddy bear until she noticed he was there anymore... it can't be...?

"wait... are you my wookie bear? what am i saying? that's impossible..."

he just nodded his head and smiled again

"are you for real??" and gunwook confirmed but seconds later his smile dropped

"why were you crying earlier? i got so worried" and he pouted sadly

oh so he is really my bear, she thought

"I was feeling too sad and lonely gunwookie :( that's why"

"is there something i can do to make you better?" he asked and she just jumped on him giving the biggest hug ever, she needed that

"just stay here with me please gunwookie"

"okay i won't go anywhere" and he hugged her back

after a moment he speaked up again "I'm so sorry"

"why are you saying that, wookie?"

"did i hurt you? you were near me doing those sounds and then you started crying, i don't really understand what happened.. it sounded like you were in pain.. did i do something wrong? please explain me and i promised i will apologize properly to you and repair any mistake"

oh this is gonna be a really long night

(oh 🍄 anon my tests for this week has ended and now i'm back to this. and i got your back! i found some pics of gunwook in a snorlax hoodie. if you're in anon, you can't share images, just links!)

so continuing on from where we left, you explained that you are not in pain, just desperate for pleasure. gunwook seems a bit clueless but when he gets what you're trying to mean, his cheeks blush in pink. he lets you take the lead, he doesn't want to hurt you. he just wanted you to feel satisfied in your sleep.

you ride his cock, bouncing up and down, as you interlocked both of your hands together with his hands. and his blush just gets more pink. he's getting flustered from the pleasure, sweet and soft moans spilling out of his lips.

after the both of you cummed, you tidied yourself up and gave gunwook a simple aftercare, solely made of cuddles. "sorry for that, i was just...needy." you apologised. "y/n, that's alright, at least you're...happy now." gunwook responded, wrapping his arms around you.

[cthulhum]

did u save my life in paris ? i gave u to armand u tell me if that was saving. why didnt u say it was me who saved u not him ? i dont like to point out my virtues. besides i knew ud figure it out and look. u have. i was right. all hail me. been enduring here ? not enduring. living. here in new orleans the whole time ? its my home. i am she she is me. i didnt know it was a gift. i wore it like a curse i was selfish. i- i tried to make the nights awful for u. i see. i wanted u to suffer cuz i was suffering. oh shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other and why it will never be right between monstrous- i came to thank u. for the gift u offered me. the gift i denied. for the nights in front of me where i might learn to live honestly. thank u. spetember 8th. 1973. september 8th 1973. it was 11:07 here. it wouldve been 9:07 in san francisco. armand called me. where u there ? yeah. did u hurt urself ? i was lost. i was in a dark way and i was thinking about- i cant i cant get her out of my mind. u have the same problem ? yeah. i cant louis- i cant-. hey hey its not on u u hear me ? i carried her home i made u turn her. i saved her from a fire so a half century later she could... she looked at me at the end... like a child looking to her father... but i was never-

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Having F/Os with popular voice actors/actors is so funny sometimes cause like. Jackson Storm what are you doing here this is a western

[stardusteyes]

Does anyone else listen to EPIC the Musical and suddenly become extremely worried for Outis?

[kadextra]

after all the heaps of lore we got between cucurucho, the code & q!maxo’s terrifying kidnapping, barbieboyhalo, a 4halo feast, and forever stealing the qsmp logo I’m calling it a night. see y’all tomorrow 👋