#but the shit it forced me to go through... is unbelievable

[latin-dr-robotnik]

I'm sad to report Sonic Superstars completely falls apart during the second and final campaigns. The worst of the Advance syndrome of cheap difficulty, bottomless pits, bad enemy placement and confusing level design gets combined with levels that already overstay their welcome in the main game, bosses that were already too damn long and now are even longer, with long phases and, in the case of the final bosses of each campaign, no checkpoints between those 4+ minute phases.

I'm heartbroken. I wanted to love Superstars, and I kinda did during the main campaign, but playing the extra campaigns just made me hate it and brought back flashbacks of the worst experiences I've had playing 2D Sonic games. Frustration, bad design (a booster into a wall that insta-kills you, for example) and having to re-do fights that easily balloon up to 10 MINUTES and beyond.

Honestly, I don't know what they were thinking, and the worst part is that those campaigns are required to reach the True Final Boss, which might be the worst Sonic boss fight ever. It's broken, you lose rings during cutscenes, you will be hit with cheap shots and deaths, the game will give you rings whenever it feels like, the boss will take you out of the ring collecting phase at random, forcing you to wait another full timer to get rings from your friends, and it ends with a wonky QTE that you have to nail several times without taking a single hit and without running out of rings. THE ONLY QTE OF THE GAME, and it's here. It's no Frontiers QTE, it's closer to Forces in concept but that game did it better. Oh, and if you don't have like 20 rings or so after beating the boss, the game will kill you and you'll have to do the entire thing again. I know, it happened to me. I had to re-do the entirety of that shitty fight like 3 times. Awful.

It feels like a repeat of The Final Horizon's flaws, but this time with none of its good parts. I could sit here and say that Superstars is a nice 8/10 based entirely on my first campaign experience, but I can't pretend like the rest of the game doesn't exist, because you'll have to experience those extra campaigns if you wanna get your Super Sonic fight and fully beat the game.

There's a good game in Superstars, but it's buried very deep under tons of idiotic decisions and core issues that I don't know if could be resolved with patches. Cheap artificial difficulty killed this game for me.

[mayspicer]

Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:

My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x

The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...

[tgcg]

happy day of egbert

CG: DON'T YOU JUST HAVE THE MANUAL SOMEWHERE?

TG: dude its the most overwhelmingly basic thing on the planet trust me i literally did all the other settings for you

TG: all you gotta do is point the thing at egbert

TG: half press to focus subject

TG: press down fully and bam done the shit is shot

CG: BUT --

TG: i know youre desperate for this to be rocket science but its genuinely like first grade biz i promise whatever pic you take is gonna be fine

===

EB: yeah, come on karkat!

EB: i am only going to be the birthday bad ass for like, 24 hours total you know.

EB: longest birthday of my LIIIIIIIIFE. haha.

EB: oh hey, from one birthday-dooms day guy to another…

EB: i am pretty sure you understand the magnitude of what i just said!

===

CG: OH HEY. FUCK YOU.

CG: I'M JUST ACCOUNTING FOR THE LITERAL FUCKING INEVITABILITY THAT WHEN I TAKE THIS PHOTO, SOME INSIDIOUS LITTLE KARMA GNOME WILL FROLIC ONTO THE SCENE IN AN UNBELIEVABLE STROKE OF LOATHSOME SERENDIPITY TO BURY ME IN 12 CUBIC METERS OF FOOL-GRADE FUCKING IDIOT POWDER.

CG: AT WHICH POINT ANOTHER HEFTY BOULDER WILL BE ADDED TO THE BULGING MACRO-BINDLE OF SHAME YOU PEOPLE HAVE FORCED ME INTO CARRYING MY WHOLE LIFE.

CG: SHIT, SOMEONE HAS GOTTA LOOK OUT FOR MY ASS.

TG: alright give us a sec

TG: huddle formation

EB: psssshhh, alright.

===

TG: youre not gonna fuck this up

TG: your ass is completely secure dude

TG: i got the double foam padded booster seat and you know that shit is strapped on this 5mph drive through quaint ol piss-easyville

EB: you know if it really is so bad you can just re-take it, right?

EB: it is really not worth aggravationing your sponge over.

TG: 'xactly

TG: knights honor that shit isnt hooked up to my ishades and will not instantly forward me a copy in crisp HD of whatever blunder youre cooking in your beautiful nugbone

===

CG: IT'S NOT JUST THAT.

CG: HAVEN'T I SHADOWED YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY SHENANIGANS LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO TOSS ME A GODDAM BONE?

CG: I MEAN. I FEEL LIKE I'M READY FOR THIS. I'VE BEEN PRIMED FOR THIS BULLSHIT FOR EQUINOXES AT THIS POINT, WATCHING YOU PRANCE AROUND WITH THIS FUCKING THING.

TG: woah wait youre legit into it?

CG: YES, I AM LEGIT FUCKING INTO IT.

CG: AND I KNOW IT HAS SETTINGS YOU'RE HIDING FROM ME. WHAT IF I WANT TO TAKE A BLACK AND WHITE SHOT, HUH? WHAT IF I WANT TO ADJUST THE "APERTURE" OR THE "EXPOSURE" OR SOMETHING.

TG: alright i dig the enthusiasm but maybe we can unwrap that shit when we dont have someone waiting for us

TG: i didnt know you were scoping photography man you shoulda said something!

CG: I WAS PLANNING TO! I DIDN'T ENVISION IT COMING UP SO FRIGGIN SUDDENLY MAN.

TG: i promise ill open the pandoras fuckin box of snap addicts anonymous afterwards alright

===

CG: OK, FINE. BUT I AM HOLDING YOU TO THA --

===

CG: HA HA EGBERT. VERY FUCKING FUNNY.

CG: FOR YOUR SAKE I SERIOUSLY HOPE THIS IS JUST AN EMBARRASSING NOSTALGIA-DRIVEN LAPSE IN HUMOR AND NOT A GENUINE ATTEMPT TO "PRANK" ME. I REALLY DO!

EB: huh? who is this "egbert" you speak of? i have never heard of such a character.

CG: OH, JUST THIS BULGECRUD-HUFFING IMBECILE THAT FALLS BACK ON SHITTY PRACTICAL JOKES SO PLAYED-OUT THAT THEY PHYSICALLY HURT TO BEAR WITNESS TO.

CG: MY LOWER JAW IS THREATENING TO REVERSE-DROP WITH ENOUGH VELOCITY TO BURROW DIRECTLY INTO MY THOUGHT SPONGE, KILLING ME INSTANTLY.

CG: SO EITHER GET SOME NEW MATERIAL OR GET ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM, YOUR PICK.

EB: damn, ok. that does sound like some pretty serious bullshit, but…

===

EB: whoever that weirdo next to you is kind of seems like he needs medical resistance more than you do!

CG: WHAT

[inkyray]

your sick matt fic was so good!! can u make a part 2 sorta (or not) where hes finally recovered but now his gf gets sick and he has to take care of her?

a/n: got to writing immediately i fear

content ahead/warnings: sick!reader x matt sturniolo, vomiting, fluff, not proof read lol, other shit idk

part 2 to this

TOLD U SO

A rush of utter heat wraps you whole, and you feel unconsciously frustrated as you twist and turn from out of Matt's grasp. Hoping for some sort of light and feathery breeze to hit your sleeping body.

You subconsciously begin whining in your sleep, the feeling of only hot and thick air doing nothing to cleanse your body, your nose stuffing itself from a simple sniff of air. You raise a few fingers to rub your still-closed eyes together, meeting directly with your burning sticky skin. Your unreasonably high body temperature sends a quick shock through your body, still rubbing your eyes.

"You all right, baby?" Matt shifted to his side, his voice low, gravelly, and husk. Without even considering your options, you immediately shake your head no. His large hands make their way to your forehead, and he feels himself getting upset. "You're burning hot, sweetheart."

If you were half asleep before, you were now just opening your eyes. An undeniable wave of physical exhaustion punching you in every bone of your body. "I told you, we shouldn't have kissed. You were too close to me the entire night, I knew you'd get sick too." He huffs, stressed out for you, his hands pressing the hair that stuck to your face due to accumulated sweat out of the way. You frown deep.

"You got me sick." You point out, your soft voice matching his with its roughness crackles, you feel your sore throat form almost immediately and you wince. "No, you're the one who kept wanting to kiss me and rub all up on me." He shrugged in defense and you can't argue with that.

"As long as I get to kiss you some more today."

He chuckles, able to get up from the spot on the bed and head for his bathroom. "You're unbelievable, kid."

Your eyes dart to the sound of the running bathroom sink and the gross sloth feeling of continuing to lay in this bed any longer. As soon as you were back to normal, you would be deep cleaning this room front to back. You stiffen, making up the mental courage to lift yourself out of the bed.

Lifting your head up first, a wave of utter wonkiness punches you in the face, your head feels like it is spinning in your mind. The migraine was forming now, but you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, making it to the bathroom.

You mentally feel the strength of your legs and thighs even when still laying on the bed, and then you look at the ground. You huff a whine, your body too hot for your skin. "Matt." You call for him, he answers immediately with a "You okay, sweetheart?", the sound of foam and a toothbrush in his mouth.

"Help me make it to the bathroom." You murmur, softly peeling the blankets from off of you. Matt walks back in, and in seconds he scoops you up. With a hand under both your knees for support and a large hand on your back, he takes you to the bathroom as you yelp at the sudden action. You figured the soup you made him last night definitely helped.

"Feeling better, hm?" You mutter, holding onto his neck for better support. He turns his head to look at you, kissing your lips with a long peck before kissing your neck, you get a mild taste of toothpaste in your mouth, scrunching up your nose. "Enough, Matt. Or you'll get sick again." You warn as he places you to sit on the bathroom counter.

"Then it'll be a cute never-ending cycle of us getting really sick and kissing each other." He said it like he was fond of the idea, looking at you then himself at the mirror, going back to brushing his teeth.

"Not a good thing." You point out, turning your back to stare at your reflection. You looked bedridden, your hair a messy bunch and your skin sickly flushed. "You look gorgeous though, so that's a plus." He rinses out his mouth, bending down to the height of the sink as you take the opportunity to run your hands through his knotted hair, fixing it for him.

He stands back up again, turning to look at the shower before back at you. You raise a tired eyebrow. "You think I should try for a shower? I feel disgusting and I think I've recovered enough to take one." He looks for your opinion on his question and you offer him a lazy shrug. "You're an able adult with a mind of your own."

"Yeah, but, I need to know what you think." He stands in between your legs, resting his hands on both your thighs. "Whenever I do something without your approval, I always regret it." You can't help it, you kiss him again. "Take a shower." You pull away and he grins. "But make sure you dry your hair really well."

"I know, I know." He winks, taking off his shirt as you drop to your feet. The sudden weight against the floor is a lot for your feeble sick body, you use the counter to lean on for help, before your knees buckle and have you fall. "Careful!" Matt urges, his eyes widening and a quick hand holding you still by the waist. You offer a smile. "I'm okay."

You turn the sink on, splattering your face with cold water. The temperature difference being so ultimate, it has you squeeze your eyes shut and take it all in for a moment. Washing your face, you hear the shower faucet turn on and Matt enters it from beside you.

"Make sure the water is hot on your skin!" You yell over the clattering water from the shower, making sure he heard you. You were always bossing Matt around like a mother, being an older sister definitely taking a load onto your personality. You dry your face, going in to brush your teeth now, hearing Matt turn the faucet as steam begins to form around him.

"Not too hot, Matt."

"I'm not into the whole idea of accidental suicide, so don't worry about that." He says over the water.

"You can't die from that." You correct, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"God, even when you're sick."

You chuckle, giving Matt an opportunity to close his eyes under that hot water and let your laugh melt through his ears.

"I'm gonna take a piss." You announce, rinsing your mouth out and peeling your pants down to your thighs as you sit on the toilet.

"You better not fucking flush." He ordered, making sure you heard the warning in his voice. 

You wiped, getting back up and flushing, darting out of the bathroom. You laugh at the sound of Matt screaming your name due to the sudden temperature change of water until sudden dizziness takes over your sight and mind. For a full second, your vision blurry so bad you genuinely couldn't see anything as your head spins in circles like a basketball.

"Fuck." You gasp, dropping yourself onto the unmade bed you and Matt slept in, trying to get your mind back together.

-

Not even a whole 10 minutes pass and Matt was out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel as he searched for you, seeing you dead asleep on his bed. Just then realization dawns upon him that today he'll need to look after you, the same you had. Any feeling of playful irritation left him and he was now changing into his clothes, his blue eyes on you as he tried to figure out how you took care of him so he could repeat that action.

Medicine.. Soup. Soup. He wondered if there was any left. Finishing putting his clothes on, he shuts the door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake you up. The environment around him definitely made it obvious that Chris and Nick were awake, seeing them seated in the kitchen.

"Matt!" Chris happily calls, seeing him much better than yesterday. He smiles, taking a seat at the table as he watches Nick cook up breakfast.  "Are you feeling any better?" Nick asks, putting sausage on a plate. "Yeah, all thanks to her," Matt points to the direction of his room where you're sleeping. "But at what cost." He sighed, feeling the guilt of getting you sick.

"What? She got sick too?" Chris wonders and Nick frowns. "Aw fuck."

"Yeah. She worked so hard yesterday, too. I feel so bad." Matt sighs, grabbing onto the fork Nick handed him and taking a quick bite from the breakfast. It wasn't your cooking, the flavor dull in his mouth as he chewed it down. The sound of murmured worries erupt from his brothers. "Whatever, is there any of the soup she made left?"

Chris almost jumps at the mention of the soup. "Dude, did you try it? It was so fucking good."

"Yeah. She made it for me. Is there any of it left?" Matt repeats himself, Nick shakes his head. "Nah, fucking Chris over here finished it all." Matt turns to glare at his brother.

"What?"

"You don't even like soup."

"Your girlfriend's soup doesn't count though, you've seen the way she cooks."

He was right, Matt couldn't argue with that.

-

Almost the entire day had passed and you had practically nothing in your stomach. Matt had tried anything, but your feverish appetite kept you from swallowing anything down. You claimed the food was either under seasoned, not cooked well enough, too cold, and more. Matt had gone out with Nick to the store to buy you pre-cooked meals, but the thing with you, you can smell if something isn't homemade from a mile away.

He holds the spoon of rice to your mouth, but you twist your head the other way, refusing to eat it. "Please, baby, come on." He begs, "You need to eat, you have to have food in your system so you could take the medicine."

You huff, shuffling under his blankets, looking for something. "I'll just take the medicine now."

He clicks his tongue, signifying no. "Nope, you will eat this whether you like it or not." He holds your hands down to shove the spoon in your mouth, but your head dodges it immediately, turning the other way. He groans your name, you stick your tongue out.

"I'm not eating that shit."

"Yes, you are." He grabs ahold of your jaw, locking it in place as his separate hand shoves the rice in your mouth. "Chew." He holds your jaw tight, closing it for you, knowing you were gonna spit it out. You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him as you chew.

His grip on you loosens and drops his hand when he's certain you won't spit it out. Wrong move. You spit the rice out immediately onto the plate. He yells your name before accepting his defeat. "You have to eat, or else you'll throw up, stupid." He grumbled after a little while.

"Nah, I won't."

-

Was being completely and utterly stupid a part of sick symptoms?

You were snuggled up onto Matt's side, watching a movie on his laptop, sneezing and coughing in every direction but his, determined not to get him sick again. Even if that meant you're getting his entire room contaminated. His hand was met with your bare skin that your big shirt failed to cover, his palm sneaking into your shirt and rubbing your hot skin up and down for some sort of comfort.

Now, what made you stupid, was that you still took the medicine. And halfway through the movie, your stomach starts churning. Your eyes widen at the sudden clench of your stomach and you jump up, immediately heading for the bathroom as Matt's hand disappears from your side. Bending down to the toilet, Matt jumps to his feet and follows you inside and you immediately start gagging into the toilet.

You throw up an empty stomach, which hurts more. Matt worriedly holds your hair back as another hand rubs your back, understanding quickly what was happening. You gag, everything you consumed the other day clears its way out of your body. Matt winces behind you, determined to keep your hair out of the way as he watches the pained look on your face.

The feeling chimes down, and you stand back up, dizzier than you were before, with Matt still using his hands for a make-shift ponytail before dropping it down. You feel yourself almost fall, grabbing onto his forearms for support, taking a few steps toward the sink.

Rinsing your mouth, Matt speaks, "Is it too soon to say I told you so?"

You decide to wash your face, too. "Shut up, bitch." He chuckled nervously from behind you. You felt disgusting and exhausted. "I need a shower." You mutter, rubbing your eyes as sick tiredness gets to you again.

"Not today!" He declares, motioning you back into the bedroom. "I feel so sweaty and gross." You mumbled, leaning on him, not really wanting to use any effort for yourself after that god awful vomit experience. He notices, preferring to pick you up than have you walk on your own.

"I could get you a new set of clothes?" He suggests instead, laying you back onto his bed. "Mmm." You hum in approval, laying fully on your back, too tired to even speak anymore. You felt worse than you did in the morning.

He grabs some folded clothes, all of which belonged to him as he looks back at you. Your eyes were closed, your breathing out of order as you tried to steady it again. You feel both of Matt's thumbs hook around each side of your waistband before slowly shoving them down, his cold fingertips brushing against your burning hot body. Taking the pants off you, he takes one of your legs and puts it in the leg hole of sweatpants that belonged to him, repeating the action on the other leg before pulling it past your thighs and to your hips. He ties the strings around your waist so it wouldn't fall off you.

"Thank you, Matt." You slur, barely able to open your eyes again as your mind begins going blank. "Anything for you, love." He softly takes your shirt off of your head as you lift your arms up lazily for some sort of help. Matt grins at your lazy action, putting a graphic t-shirt over your head. You seemed completely out of it, so he puts your arms through the holes for you, making sure your stomach is fully covered. "Sleepy, huh?" He says more to himself than you.

A small part of your mind hadn't completely fallen asleep, your ears picking up on it but not registering what he'd said, humming in response to make it seem like you were still awake. Matt fixes your position on the bed. It was only 8:00 PM at night, and he still needed to film a car video in a few hours. He knew exactly what he would bring up.

[miniversse]

�� “flaws and all” ⭑

⭑ bang chan x female reader

⭑ content includes: sex, oral (f receiving, m receiving), releasing, weed, body insecurity, scars, established relationship, non idol chan, non idol reader, pet names (baby, channie), build up

⭑ note: if you want to jump to the nsfw content, i have placed a dash indicating the beginning of it, but the build up is worth it! (this piece is low key chan worship hshshs)

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

it was 02:34 am. you and chan lay in his bed, the dim purple light of his room illuminating his peaceful face. the room smelt of your boyfriends weed and black musk fragrance, two scents intertwined with one another in your mind. his raspy voice makes an appearance over the faint music playing…

“what do you love me for, y/n?”

his question pierced the silence between you, and you answer him with as much honesty as your physical state can offer.

“a lot chan, a lot. maybe your voice, your face, your personality, your dedication, your patience, your love. a lot”

he turns to face you, eyes red and heavier than ever, but oh prettier than ever. the corner of his lips slightly curve upwards for a slight second and he fidgets with his earring. you didn’t lie when you said those things to him. no matter what chan did, he was perfect to you.

“so… you’re telling me you don’t care about the scar on my back? my unhealthy addiction to weed? my anger issues you have to deal with? my unbelievably long work hours? my body changes?” he takes another smoke of his rolled joint, ironically, before continuing. “i mean, i don’t know. there’s a lot of shit you don’t have to deal with, ‘yknow?”

“i know chan, but people aren’t close-minded like that. of course i see more good in you than bad”

“but that’s the thing y/n, i don’t want you to see bad in me”

“baby” you stop to place a hand on his hair, raising his bangs up only for them to fall back down.

“i love you, flaws and all”

-

it’s almost like a spell was casted as he grabs you and places you above his body, connecting his lips with yours. they felt warm and plush as always. his kisses were hungry and full, taking you all in with every time you connected. his tounge dances with yours, the sounds of your make out session bounce across his walls. he kissed you until he couldn’t breathe anymore. disconnecting

from you with a string of saliva.

the way his eyes looked into yours spoke enough for you to understand how much he appreciated you. he grabs your neck from behind, lowering your head down to make your ear parallel to his lips.

“if you love me flaws and all, show me. yeah?” he whispers to make sure only you could hear him. he plants a kiss on your ear before letting you go, letting you be free, letting you do everything you desire to do, because you fucking loved him.

within a few swift moves, you both remained in your undergarments, making out again while you touch around his member, feeling it harden and rise.

“let me get on my knees”

he lets out a breathy chuckle as you get down to the cold floor on your knees, waiting for him to adjust by the edge of the bed. the music had stopped by now, but the drunk party goers outside filled the silence, and soon will your moans

your fingers wrap around the hem of his boxers, sliding down the fabric that was in a losing game with his cock. you couldn’t wait and so couldn’t he, so you begin to lick the precum forming from his swollen cock. his head darts back quickly, using you hair as a handle. your tongue glides down and up, until he’s fully coated with your saliva. your mouth then takes his cock in, struggling to fit it all. but chan begins to thrust his hips, forcing it down your throat. he whines and moans endlessly.

“mmh, baby. fuh-king shit.”

you pick up the pace, knowing that pulsating was signaling his release. your tongue glides over his member while your mouth reaches to the end of its length, gagging through the process. and at last, your mouth felt warm and heavy with his release. you swallowed it whole, licking any excess off of him.

“shit, shit, shit, fuuckk.” his jaw was fixated on being open as his head fell back, the veins on his neck making an appearance.

“baby you’re, mh, so good”

“i can be better”

you push him back up to the mattress, laying on top of him and letting him strip you bare. his fingers left hot trails where ever he touched you. and both your cores were empty and desperate. your hand makes way to his back, tracing his scar several times until chans eyes grew heavier, and hungrier.

“leave it baby, focus on me”

“it’s apart of you, channie. no one else can have such beautiful marks”

he licks his lips and smiles, his cheeks turn a soft pink, and you know you’ve brought him back to the chan you know.

he guides your waist closer to his member, raising your body above his cock and looking into your eyes for any hesitation, but they only showed love and desperation to have him inside you. he pushes your body down and you synchronize in grunts and moans. he stretches you out while passionately placing kisses on your chest. his hunger doesn’t hold back as he helps you ride his lower torso.

“y-you’re flaws make me love you even more. in my eyes, th-they are perfect imperfections-s”

he didn’t stop to react or to say anything, rather he took more control of you, making you slam into him faster, harder and more lovingly. you moaned into his ears and he did the same. chan would whimper from time to time, and it made you reach your climax even faster.

“come with m-me baby, ok?” he groans into your ear

“mmh, but i’m a-almost there”

“y-yeah, a-almost there”

his hands give in, and he leaves the rest to you. you’re legs begin to shake and your bodies prepare to release. you slam into him one last time, and your arousals commence together, your releases dripping out of your pussy. he lifts your body off and lays you down on the mattress, his head moving down to your swollen, pulsating pussy.

“let me taste us”

his tongue follows a straight, strict path from your vagina to your clit, taking pauses to swallow whatever gathers in his mouth. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he sucks and licks cluelessly. with no shame whatsoever, you come again and straight into chans mouth. his laugh vibrates in your pussy as you moan sweet nothings to him.

it’s back to how it was, except it was 03:11am, you and chan lay in his bed, naked. the dim red light of his room illuminating his flushed face. the room smelt of sex, your boyfriends weed and black musk fragrance, three scents intertwined with one another in your mind. his quite snores keep you up all night, but so does your tireless finger tracing every curve of his body.

“you’re art, chan”

[booppooo]

what’s going on here? pt. 2

*warnings: sapphic shit obvi, oral (reader receiving), tribing, dry humping, mentions of being støned, it’s gon’ get messy ! don’t know why I wrote in first person for the last part forgive me

-

“Mm wait-“ Ellie peeled away from the smushed, messy state that your lips had become.

She gently took your hand in hers and slightly jogged over to her bed, throwing herself down effectively bringing you on top of her. You adjusted to straddle her then resumed swirling your tongues and creating a potion of moans and desperation in each other’s mouths. Naturally, Ellie’s hands fell to your thighs, heating things up tenfold, massaging her with her strong fingers. Each time her hands felt along the length of your legs they dipped further toward your simmering groin.

“You don’t need these.” She grumbled through the heated kiss.

Though she was below you physically, you were more than fine with her taking the reigns, so you worked to get your pants off in a frenzy. Next she shimmied your shirt off, grappling you against her so she could suck patches of purple onto your collar bone and chest. The wet heat trailing toward your tits made you grip at her hair for stability, sucking through your teeth when her tongue experimentally flicked against your nipple.

“Shit.”

It almost felt out of your control once your hips began to grind against her jeans. Even the smallest amount of pathetic friction made your face unbelievably hot and your panties worthy of a second grand opening of sea world. Your left tit came under scrutiny of Ellie’s tongue and lips - soft yet hungry advances. Meanwhile, her palms felt compelled to set the pace and pattern of your hips against hers. Sometimes she’d pull on your waist and urge you to go fast, and the instant your breathing picked up, she’d slow you down to hear you whine.

Suddenly, your hair was against her pillows, her lanky figure hovering over you with dark eyes. Her knee knew exactly where it needed to be - against your already messy cunt - allowing you to sample friction at any cost. The freckled girl started again at your lips, just one slow, deep kiss that left you practically dizzy. Up next was your neck, followed by your sternum, passing by your stomach and stopping just above the band of your undergarments.

“Yes - don’t ask - just yes.” You sounded far more exasperated than you imagined.

Ellie’s gaze somehow grew even darker at your pressing desire, not hesitating to curl her fingers around the waist band and rip them down your legs. Your legs were forced against your chest and Ellie’s mouth collided with your sloppy center.

“God!” You cried, digging your nails into the sheets.

She didn’t miss a beat to start sucking on your clit. It was a real definition to ‘eating’ pussy, diving in like it was a pie eating contest. Needless, it had your knees wobbling and thighs trembling. There was a lustfully gross sound emitting from below your waist attesting to how much Ellie loved to make things sloppy. It was a wet euphoria for you. Your body felt like it’s only form of consolation was fisting the sheets and huffing out moans.

“Cum - I’m gonna cum -!” The orgasm building within you showed no sign of holding back.

Until Ellie pulled herself away. You immediately shot up, ready to chew her out for doing something so rude! But, she was unbuttoning her jeans, slipping off her boxes, tugging off her shirt…

“Back against the sheets.” Ellie instructed, her palm stiff on your chest.

In one (and what looked like familiar) movement, Ellie had her leg swinging over yours, successfully slotting your bodies together. Her free hand extending your leg left your ankle over her shoulder. Once your clits collided, the welcomed sensation of sticky warmth tingled up your spine and made your eyes roll.

“Ohhhhh Ellie…” you sounded impressed.

Her fingers gently curled around your jaw so you were forced to focus on freckled features swirl into a smirk, “You are so fun to fuck,” for Ellie watching your stoned, glazed gaze admire her was already sending waves of sensation to her groin.

It was like someone took a mixer to your brain the way Ellie left you in a puddle. What brought you back was her hand slithering up your leg, then her dragging her clit against you. Both of you sung a version of a moan, wordlessly agreeing to not stop.

With your mind and body buzz mixing with Ellie grinding into you expertly, it felt like your body was concocting the next big street drug. Through your daze you took the liberty of letting your finger tips enjoy the sensation of tracing Ellie’s abs. Next was the dough of her tits, massaging and squeezing at the mounds. There was a new passionately awful sound whispering from your cunts sliding past one another creating one more thrust closer to ecstasy, and mimicking the sensation of a slip and slide.

“God you feel so fucking good.” Ellie groaned with a mix of annoyance and delight.

Thankfully the start of your orgasm was beginning to welcome itself back, creating more slick and sensitivity to the mess between your legs. You pleaded with shortness of breath to Ellie to not stop, fearful she’d pull the ol’ one-two on you again. But one glance at her face - mouth agape, brows squeezing together, glazed eyes fixated on your clits slipping past one another - you knew she was going to be cumming along side you.

This fueled you, had you pressing back up against her to intensify it all.

Ellie began to stutter, “Sh-shit,” gasping for air, “gonna-“

“Cum on me,” you sounded desperate, as if her cum was the key to salvation.

Not a second after you, Ellie was panting- “Cumming cumming cumming-!”

Finally, you saw you window to let your climax crash over you. Your sweaty back peeled from the sheets, clammy hands gripping Ellie’s waist and a relieving moan sounding from your slack jaw. Each rut from Ellie’s hips made her grow weaker and weaker with its ironic counter of strong strong pleasure. You wished to be in this very scenario forever, but high’s like orgasms were destined to be short and sweet like fireworks. Impactful.

Some of the sweat from her brow dripped down the side of her check and onto her chin before landing on your tits; Ellie hunching over you slowly sliding down so her torso was flush with yours. Sweat, cum, and probably spit were flourishing between you. Both of you gasped in each other’s ear until your lungs felt settled.

“Now we just have to wait for the jerky to get here.” Ellie joked, muffled by her pillow.

There was a knock at the door.

[rainylana]

“Yeah.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: eddie calls reader a b*tch

warnings: language, angst, tears.

a/n: i know these past fics have been short, i’m sorry, but i’m still trying my hand at getting back into this! they’ll get longer, i promise! feedback is appreciate!! :)

Eddie was not in a good mood. You knew this the moment you saw him through the window of his van when he came to pick you up for school. He ranted all morning about how he needed money for new tires, money he didn’t have. Work was cutting him hours and he couldn’t afford it. He was tired of not having money, tired of not getting what he wanted. He was having a damn bad day.

And of course, you listened graciously, but after four hours of watching him sulk in class and be a dick to his friends, it was starting to take it’s toll. He was pouting and you understood why. He came from a poor family and he wouldn’t let you help out financially in anyway whatsoever, no matter how hard you begged. You didn’t want to seem rude and make his bad day seem unappreciated or invalid, but he was treating his friends, and you, poorly to a degree. Not so much you.

Lunch was almost unbearable. Everyone walked on eggshells. Eddie was one of the most dramatic people on the face of the earth and everyone had to suffer for it. Hours past and he’d taken you home from school. Your plan was to go over to his house for a movie night, hoping that a few hours apart would help him settle down and cool off. It done no good. He was absolutely enraged when you got there. The hood of his van was up, smoke flying overhead and his dark curls pulled up away from his face. You didn’t even really know what was wrong with it. It didn’t make sense when he told you. Cars were his detail.

Dinner was no change. You sat and listened to him complain about how none of the guy’s were apparently taking the new campaign seriously. He had a hole in his last pair of good jeans. You felt guilty being annoyed by this, but he hadn’t once asked you how your day was or even kissed you! You were going to loose your mind. Without thinking, you snapped.

“Oh, my god!” You wailed, throwing your silverware down. “Jesus, christ, Eddie, take a breath!”

His eyes were round and wide. “Pardon me?”

You took a breath yourself, forcing yourself to not snap and say something you’d regret. You placed your elbows on the table and rubbed your face. “Baby, I’m sorry you’re having such a bad day, but holy shit you’ve not stopped talking for one second!” You really did have a pounding headache. “You’ve been talking about money all day! Can’t we just have a change of topic, please.”

He looked taken back. Shocked. “Oh, I see. It’s all gotta be bout you, right? Fucking forgive me for having a bad day!” He threw down his fist, clinking the dinnerware together.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Eddie.” You sighed tiredly. “I’m saying that you’ve not acknowledged me at all today. You’ve not kissed me or asked how my day was. I’m sorry you’re stressed out about money, but you’ve been taking it out one everyone, Eddie. You need to calm down.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Calm down? Well, last time I checked you were living in a grand castle on daddy’s money, right? You have no idea the kind of shit Wayne and I have to got through to make ends meet, y/n.” He stood abruptly and yanked open the fridge for a beer.

“Hey,” You raised your voice. “I’m not trying to belittle you, Eddie. All I’m saying is that you don’t need to take your frustration out on everyone, out on me. I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay-”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He took a long swig after he threw the tab in the sink. “You’re my girlfriend! You’re supposed to be supportive and shit. Only thing you’re being is a bitch.” He sneered like a snake, pointing at you like you were his worst enemy.

Your face dropped at the curse, and as stupid as it felt, your heart sank. Eddie had never said anything like that to you before. Your face burned red and the room got eerily quiet. You felt your eyes immediately blur with tears of embarrassment and humiliation. You had tried to help him, offer solutions. You tried to lend a hand, offer him money and look for jobs in the newspaper at lunch. He acknowledged none of this.

You bit your lip to keep from crying, a lump building in your throat that made you feel sick. You had your head turned to the wall so he wouldn’t see you, but you couldn’t keep it in. You let out a quiet sob, tears falling down your face as you looked down. Your face was red hot, and you brought up your hand to your chest. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” You cried. “I’ve been t-trying to help, I-” Your voice broke and you couldn’t speak as tears escaped, your face twisting into tears. You sat there and cried for a few minutes before you felt the seat dip next to you.

“Hey,” His voice cooed softly, turning your shoulder to pull you toward him. You allowed him to, and you looked eyes briefly before climbing into his lap, wrapping your legs around his torso, your feet dangling off the bench. Your arms were tight around his neck, your face buried in his shirt where you sniffled. He smelled of cologne and dirt.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, voice low and sad. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He rubbed your back up and down, kissing the side of your head when you let out a whimper.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You said tearfully, holding him like a teddy bear. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about money.”

You felt him sigh heavily. “It’s okay. I got the most important thing in the world right here with me.” He pulled you away so he could look up at you. His eyes were brown and full, his lips pulled into a frown at your tear stricken face. He took his thumbs and wiped them. “I’m sorry I called you that. You know I didn’t mean it, right? You know I didn’t.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your nose with your hand. “Yeah.” You creaked.

He tapped your chin. “Yeah.” Then your nose and to wipe away another tear. He leaned up to plant a tiny kiss on your lips, then one on the corner of your mouth. You leaned down to kiss back, deepening it with your tongue and a hand locking in his curls. Your noses pressed together like puzzle pieces. Perfectly fit.

[monster-disaster]

[elf] Everen

elf!Everen x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Summary: Your boss demands you to go after him into the woods.

For long seconds, the ringing of your phone seems unreal and far away. It needs time to break through your dreams, and when it does, you can't help but groan into the darkness of your room. You are disoriented and confused. Your phone doesn't stop vibrating on the nightstand next to you. The bluish light of the screen illuminates the ceiling. It blinds you for a second as you turn on your back and grab the small device. You have to force yourself to stay awake even though tears gather and escape from the corner of your eyes because of the sudden light. You can barely see the picture of your boss with his name at the bottom. You groan again.

"Mad?" His voice breaks the silence of your room. You can see him frowning on the screen. His thick, almost white brows cause a deep wrinkle between them. "It's me," you croak out. You don't even have enough energy to react to the stupid nickname he gave you years ago. Reaching out for the small lamp, you turn it on. "Did I wake you?" You glance up at the clock in the corner of your phone. It's almost one o'clock. "What do you think?" "You look like shit." "What do you want, Everen?" You ask him impatiently. Your voice is still hoarse with sleep but more steady and strict. "I need you to come here." Long seconds pass in silence before you snap. "What do you want now?" "I'm going crazy here," he says, looking around wherever he is. The only thing you can see behind him is a window with curtains. "You can't be serious," you breathe out your frustration. "You are barely there for twelve hours." "So?" You groan. "Then come home!" "I can't," he argues. "I need this." "Then why do you want me there?" You snap at him again. "You are my personal assistant, no?" He asks. "You have to do what I say." Your resignation is at the tip of your tongue, but you gulp it down at the last moment. "You are five hours away, Everen. You can't be serious." "Do I look like I'm joking?" He asks back. You don't even have to look at him to know he is not joking. You are not even sure if he can do that. "You can be here by the morning." You have to close your eyes to keep your calm. "I arrive when I arrive!" "Fine," he grunts, and you end the call.

Fucking unbelievable!

You met Everen when you finished college. He needed someone he could order around, and you needed a job to keep a roof over your head. It was a match made in hell.

The elf writes fantasy. And he is good at them. Really good. He is popular, and his books are bestsellers. Everen is lucky his personality doesn't show on the pages. He is headstrong, mean, and spoiled. Most of the time, you feel like a babysitter.

At first, he only used you to get him coffee, do his shopping, and keep in contact with his publisher, so he didn't have to. As the years went by, he asked for, or demanded, help with his stories. Read them and give them your honest opinion. Point out the mistakes and drag down his ego. Well, he didn't ask for the latter, but you like to do it nonetheless. Besides the salary, this is the only perk of your job.

After sleeping for a few hours more, you pack your things and begin your journey to Ironridge.

Everen decided to turn his back on the city when two months passed without him writing anything. The elf is sure he only needs some solitude and nature to clear his head and finish his book in time. There are two problems, though: he hates being alone, and he has no survival skills in nature, even though you know there is a town just a ride away, and he has a perfectly good cabin in the woods.

"What?" You ask him when you get out of the car, and Everen just stares at you without a word. He sits on the porch with a mug in his hands. "You are here," he states, and you freeze. "You asked me to come, remember?" Gods, if he says he wasn't serious you will kill him. Nobody knows you are here, and the forest is big enough to hide his body. Everen scoffs. "Of course, I remember!" "Good," you nod, grabbing your things to take them into the house. As you stop next to him in front of the entrance of the cabin, you notice what he wears. His boots are too new and useless for the woods, and his jeans are too tight to be comfortable. The red flannel shirt is something you never thought you would see on him. "You look ridiculous," you tell him before disappearing into the house.

The place is small. There is barely enough space for a kitchen and a living room with a couch and fireplace. The bathroom and the bedroom are next to each other at the back.

Oh, right, where are you going to sleep?

"The couch is comfortable," Everen says from behind you.

Right. Of course.

"Always a gentleman."

After putting down your things and grabbing a mug to pour yourself some coffee, you turn your attention back to the elf. "So, what did you do yesterday?" You ask him. "Did you write something or go for a walk?" He looks at you like you are crazy. "For a walk? Outside?" "Yes," you nod, and when the expression on his chiseled face doesn't change, you groan. "Why are we even here if you don't go out?" "To be close to nature." You will kill him. Nobody will know. "Next time just by a fucking plant!" "You are not really nice," he states. "Did you sleep enough?" For seconds, you just stare at him without blinking. "I wrote a few pages yesterday," he adds when he decides to change the topic for safety reasons. "Do you want to read it?" "Do you want to show them to me?" There are times when Everet is really cautious with his work, and despite your odd relationship with him, you don't want to make him do things he doesn't want to. His books and his career are really important to him, and you respect them.

Without saying anything, the elf nods at the laptop on the couch, and you sit down to read it. Long minutes pass by while you focus on the screen, and Everen walks back and forth behind you. His platinum-blonde hair is tied back with a leather stripe. The long, straight locks almost reach his slim waist.

"Holyshit," you break the silence. The elf stops and leans over the back of the couch to see the screen in your lap. The pillow behind your back sinks under his weight. "So?" He asks urgently. "What do you think?" "Since when do you write erotica?" "The publisher told me to spice things up," he explains. "He says it's popular." You frown. "Your books are popular." Everen shrugs. "Is it really that bad?" "It's so dry," you tell him. You can see he doesn't like the publisher's instructions, either, so you try to be nicer than usual. Now you understand why he got stuck with his book. "And you used "member" at least twenty times. It's not a rock band, Everen, it's a dick." You don't even have to look back at him to know he is offended. You just notice it from the way his breathing changes. "Can you do better?" "I mean…" you shrug. "I could give it a try." You are not a writer and don't want to be one, but you can clearly see what's wrong with his work. "Then be my guest," he says. "Do your best."

You spend the next few hours on the couch, adjusting and changing things you don't like in the scene. The only noise in the small cabin is the keyboard's clattering as you write. Sometimes you hear Everen do something in the house, mostly making coffee after coffee. He is lucky elves don't tend to get heart attacks.

"Are you writing a whole book?" He asks impatiently. "I didn't ask you to change the whole book." Rolling your eyes, you push the laptop onto the couch from your lap to stand up. "I'm done," you tell him. "Read it if you want."

While your boss busies himself with the book, you go out with another drink to enjoy some peace and fresh air. You feel even more tired than you arrived. You settle into the rocking chair Everen used when you arrived. The wooden floorboards feel solid beneath your feet as you rock back and forth ever so slowly. As you sip your coffee, your gaze wanders into the woods. Towering trees sway gently in the gentle summer breeze. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow on the lush greenery. The air smells like pine, damp earth, and wildflowers, mixing with the coffee in your hands. Birdsong fills the quietness, a symphony of chirps and trills.

Usually, you prefer the loud business of the city, but if you have to be honest, this is good too. Your only problem is…

Everen almost bursts out of the house. His handsome face is cold and strict. Something burns in his eyes, but you don't recognize what.

"How did you do this?" He demands for an answer. You shrug, sipping from your coffee. "I have a soul." Everen's frown deepens. "I have that too!" "I don't know what to say," you reply. "Did you do that before?" "You mean writing a sex scene?" You ask. "No." "No," he shakes his head. "The scene itself." You almost laugh. "Of course I did." A light blush spreads across his cheeks, and a nagging feeling starts to eat the back of your mind. "You didn't?" His blush deepens. "Does it matter?" "I mean, no," you reply. "But it's really… vanilla." "For who?" "For me? And for a bunch of other people?" "Well," he grunts. "I want it too." You freeze. The swaying of the chair under you stops. "I'm not sure what you want me to do," you break the momentary silence after a while. The words leave your lips slowly and carefully. "I want you to sit on my face," he says. "How hard can it be?" At the word hard, your gaze falls down on the obvious bulge between his thighs. Seeing his erection trapped in his jeans, the new shine in his dark eyes suddenly makes sense. "You got horny because of…-" you point back at the cabin. Surprise shows on your face as your brows draw up in shock. "So what?" He acts like an upset kid. "I'm just surprised you feel anything besides anger," you tell him. Everen just grimaces. "You are funny." His snarky comment makes you think of his request again. Or demand. "So?" He asks impatiently. "Are you coming?" "You mean, right now?" "What do you want me to do? Take you out to pick berries?" He waves at the forest surrounding you. How many times did you imagine shutting him up since your work for him? You can't even count it. "Fine," you grunt, standing up from your seat. The chair creaks at your sudden movement.

Anything to shut him up finally.

"So, what do you want me to do?" He asks when you lead him to the bedroom. It's a mess. His clothes are all over the place, poured out of his bags, and the blanket is halfway down on the ground. "Well," you grunt, looking around. "You could clean up." He stares at you. "You are really wild in bed." "Just shut up!" "Make me!"

Fine!

"Then take off your clothes," you tell him. "Will you do it too?" He asks, staring to unbutton his shirt. You feel glad when the flannel falls off his shoulders. It really did look horrible on him. "Do you want me?" You ask him. "Naked, I mean." "How will I eat your pussy otherwise?"

Maybe this is a good step. Both of you get over the awkwardness first, so you can move on and enjoy whatever happens next. And still. You feel nothing but impatience and excitement. Your gaze rakes over Everen's naked body. Over the line of his shoulders, the light muscles on his chest and abdomen, and the V line that leads you to his cock between his thighs. He is tall and lean. His posture is confident as he stands beside the bed, watching you. His eyes burn your skin as he looks over you. Your nipples harden into small peaks under his heavy stare. "Are you still angry because you had to come here?" He breaks the silence. The elf doesn't even try to hide the fact that he can't tear his eyes away from your breasts. "Just lay down."

When he does as you say, for once, you are ready to climb up on him when a question stops you. "How do you want me?" You eye his erection. "Do you want me to suck you?" A pained grunt escapes the back of his throat. His cock jerks under your gaze. "I take it as a yes," you grin, getting into position with his hands on your thighs. Everen's long fingers squeeze your flesh, urging you to hurry up. You hover just beyond his reach. His warm breath fans over your wet center. "What did you not understand?" He asks after a few seconds. "I said, sit!" And with that, he pushes you down on his face. You don't even have a chance to keep your balance under his tight hold.

Your moans mix in the quiet room as his tongue licks over your pussy. Everen nibs and sucks on you, exploring your aching wetness. His fingers dig into your thighs, pushing you down even more. "Everen!" You cry out his name in shock. His tongue slides through your pussy, lapping at your juices. His face is already soaked. His senses are filled with your taste and scent. He breathes you in, driving himself to delirium. Your thighs shake at the sides of his head. You try to keep your balance, rocking into him and grinding your pussy against his face. You aren't even sure if the elf under you can breathe, but at this point, you don't even care. Your chase your own pleasure, and the only thing that can keep you afloat is his cock not far from you. It twitches every now and again, and pre-cum runs down on his shaft and a bluish vein under the soft, pale skin. Licking your lips, you lean over his chest. Your nipples graze his upper body.

A dissatisfied grunt vibrates over your pussy, sending shivers up your spine when you lift yourself up from his face. "I didn't tell you to move," he grunts. A breathless grin spreads across your face. "Are you sure?" Your fingers curl around his cock, smoothing up and down on his length. "Fuck!" Everen growls, pulling your back onto his lips. His hips thrust up to fuck your fist. "If I had known I could shut you up like this, I would have done it sooner," you tell him, still grinning. Your words are airy, but the snarkiness still rings clearly. Everen says something you don't understand, and the next moment, a startled cry escapes your lips as your world spins with you in the middle. He finds your entrance. He laps at the juices flowing from your pussy before his tongue plunges into your hole. Your legs quiver at the new feeling. Your muscles twitch and flex as your boss pushes you higher and higher. Your hand around his cock is sloppy. You can barely focus on anything besides his tongue in you. Your walls flutter and pulse around him as he fucks you. Both of you are soaked with your wetness and his saliva. "I'm going to cum," you cry out when you feel the first spasms in your lower abdomen. It strikes through your body, sending stars behind your eyelids as you press yourself even more firmly against his face.

You cum, and he licks up everything you have to offer. And he doesn't stop even when you try to get up. "Oh, no," he growls with a deep laugh. The rumbles shake through your sensitive, throbbing cunt. "I'm not done with this pussy yet." He doesn't let you move. He doesn't let you escape. "Oh, fuck! Everen!" You are so busy with your own body you don't even notice your grip on his cock tightening until you feel him jerk and cum in your hand. His hips push up even more, and his moans and groans shake your body. His tongue strokes into you, licking deep. He devours you with a newfound elan, and you can do nothing but grind against him until you feel your orgasm approaching again. Your breathing gets ragged, mixing with cries and screams. Your over-sensitive pussy sends you over the edge within a few minutes.

When your mind clears a bit, you are already on the bed next to Everen. His hand shamelessly gropes your tits, and his hard cock nudges your thigh. His breath is warm on the curve of your neck. "Have any other ideas for the book?"

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentine's! Dealers choice, though I love SIAT

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Naruto knows when Itachi is due back from his mission because, as always, she’s spent years sneaking into her father’s office and going through his paperwork. She’s still split on whether he genuinely hasn’t noticed (unlikely) or is just letting her snoop on highly classified files (also unlikely) but as long as she keeps being able to get past his seals, she’s going to take advantage of it.

Itachi doesn’t even have the decency to act surprised to see her sitting on his kitchen table and eating his chips. Probably because he sensed her from a literal mile away, but still. “Hello Naruto,” he says, dropping his pack on the floor and heading straight to his fridge for the disgusting weird protein health drinks he gets from the Inuzukas.

Tsume forces those on them semi-regularly and they taste like dirt. She doesn’t understand how Itachi drinks them willingly. “I need a favor.”

“Okay,” he says, tilting his head back and chugging.

She frowns. “It’s a big favor. You’re not going to like it.”

He finishes the bottle and throws it into the trash across the room without looking. “Okay.”

She throws up her hands. “Seriously? Are you really planning on letting me cash in on helping expose Madara for the rest of your life?”

“Yes,” he says.

Unbelievable. She balls up the bag of chips and throws it at his head. He lets it bounce off and fall to the ground.

He does shit like this because he knows it pisses her off. She’s sure of it.

~

Shikamaru like Naruto well enough, but tends to tune her out a lot of the time, because she’s very loud and high energy and likes to do things that end up getting everyone in trouble except her. It’s not even like she’s using the fact that she’s the hokage’s daughter to get out of it – she’s just that much better at outrunning Anbu than they are.

There’s a joke in there about her avoiding Kakakshi, but since he values his limbs and also his quiet, he never makes it.

When Naruto’s quiet, that’s when they need to worry. Naruto was really quiet around the time she unearthed the almost rebellion of the Uchiha that he’s supposed to know nothing about. She’s quiet now too, blue eyes dark and voice low as she tells them what the first two sections of the chunin exam are going to be like and that they have to be careful.

“Why are you so worried about this?” Ino asks.

Naruto trades a glance with Sasuke then, surprisingly, Sakura. Shikamaru hadn’t been sure those two could untangle from each other enough to make room from the girl from a civilian family, but it doesn’t seemed to have tripped them up too badly. “It’s need to know. For now.”

Considering all the things Naruto talks about loudly and unrepentantly, that’s very, very concerning.

“You’re telling the others this?” Chouji asks.

Sakura nods. “We’ll be waiting in the forest. We won’t go to the tower until you’re all there.”

It sounds arrogant said like that, but Sasuke’s a prodigy in his own right, and the only reason he hadn’t graduated early was because he and Naruto had wanted to be on the same team together.

The reason Naruto hadn’t graduated early was partially due to sabotage – man, had their teacher before Iruka hated her – but also because she refused to correct them, to complain, to make a big deal out of her abilities.

Naruto plays things closer to her chest than even he does.

So if she’s being this transparent and upfront, they better listen.

Troublesome.

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Wardrobe Malfunction

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 1.6k TYPE: Humor, Clothes Swap NOTE(S): For the purposes of this situation, reader is on the shorter side, and also because I feel like they have the evil of a short person in their soul. Also, same Y/n character as Dog Walking, but you don't need to read that to read this at all!

Despite whatever airs you put on, you like wearing your Bastard München uniform. Mostly because it makes you feel like a big shot professional, which appeals to your sense of self-importance.

You don’t think much of it when you slip on your shirt, but soon enough it becomes apparent to you that something is off. It feels wrong, too loose. And it’s falling down way lower than what you’re used to. You take a few seconds to scrutinize it in between owlish blinks, although the emboldened logo on the front doesn’t aid you in figuring out this mystery.

The easy way to check comes to you soon enough, and you lift your leg to see a traitorous ten in the corner of the shorts instead of your number. A look of horror takes over your face… No… You’re going to get Kaiser’s cooties. He is contaminating you with his germs.

You can already feel them loosening after the movement, and once you put your foot back down, they immediately slide off. With a huff, you grab them from the floor and resolve to strut up to the crux of your dilemma.

When you approach, Kaiser has his back on you, and you immediately notice the big eight, and the wrong name accompanying it. Ness is struggling to fit into the shirt he got, and while his jersey isn’t too ill-fitting on Kaiser, it’s too short, leaving him to fumble with the hem to try and hide the exposed part of his waist.

“It’s just like the pants, I can’t put it on,” Ness cries.

“What do you mean, you can’t put it on?” Kaiser asks before taking a handful of fabric and yanking down with too much force. “See, you can put it on just fine.”

“I can barely move! This is ridiculous-”

Oh, you see how it is now. Are they stupid, though? How have they been talking for so long without pinpointing the problem? You sneak behind Kaiser and reel in your arm before smacking him on the back with the shorts, exerting all of your might.

He lets out a grunt of pain you believe is overdramatized since it can’t have hurt that much, shoulders jerking up. “Whoever did that, I will fucking curb stomp y-” and then, after he whips around and sees you, the threat dies down on his tongue.

“Your dirty pants, sir,” you say in a fake fancy voice before throwing them at his face.

Kaiser flings them away on the bench, narrowing his eyes at you with this weird mix between taunting and adoring. “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you. You’re so cute right now. Let me see.”

With this new positioning, Ness seems to finally realize what happened, too, because he says, “Wait, Kaiser, that’s… m-mine.”

Ignoring him, Kaiser steps around to examine you, and his ugly grin that you can’t stand grows even wider somehow when he reads his name. His name that’s on you because you’re wearing his jersey. “Holy shit.”

“You look like an imp.”

He disregards you with ease, too — you have to admit he’s good at this ‘only hearing what he wants to hear’ stuff — and opens his locker to rummage through it. Ness says, “You’re- you’re wearing Kaiser’s? That’s so unfair.”

“Yeah, and you’re wearing mine. Stand proud. You’re blessed. Millions would kill to be in your place. Everyone’s gonna wear this merch in the future, but you get the real thing.”

“You seriously live in la-la-land, it’s unbelievable.”

You spin your finger in the air, seeming way too pleased with yourself. “Do a little twirl for me, I wanna see how it looks on you all around.”

“I will NOT be doing that,” Ness denies with a huff. He’s so uptight when it comes to anyone who’s not Kaiser. Someone would’ve thought you have gangrene or that you asked him to clean roadkill off the street or something with the way he’s acting.

What Kaiser was searching for in such a rush turns out to have been his phone, you come to find out when he starts taking pictures of you without even a modicum of shame. Multiple of them, if the repetitive pressing he’s doing is indicative of anything.

“Don’t point your phone at me, you sick fuck,” you say, reaching out to cover the lens.

Your efforts go in vain, since he just lifts it up high where you can’t reach and continues. “No way. You’re just way too cute right now. I mean, shit.”

Mocking you aside, there’s this thinly-veiled wonder on his face, and it’s making you want to vomit because of course he’d be the type to get a kick out of stupid shit like this. He’s so fucking lucky, too, it’s pissing you off. Among the three of you, he’s the only one who’s kind of in presentable condition.

Once you come close to swatting the device out of his grasp with a jump, Kaiser presses his palm to your face and shoves you away, keeping you at an arm’s length. Then he diverts his attention to Ness, snapping photos of him now and laughing. “You look stupid as hell.”

“Nooo, Kaiser, don’t! Stop!” Ness says, red-faced, to absolutely no avail.

He even takes a few steps back and does a bad job of covering his stomach with his hands while inching towards the bench, which… he makes a genuine attempt at ducking under. This doesn’t deter Kaiser from continuing his paparazzi session or whatever it is that he’s doing, nor does it conceal Ness from view.

You detach your cheek from Kaiser’s hold and announce, “Don’t worry, Ness, I’m gonna save you from the vile pig,” before you take an unnecessary leap and stick your fingers where the shirt is riding up, tickling his sides.

This startles him enough to let go of his phone (the apparatus of evil), sending it flying. You at least have enough decency to catch it, since you’re not really above letting it shatter either. Then you start scrolling through it with the intention of deleting the photos.

It doesn’t take Kaiser long to recover from your attack, and when he does, he reaches out to you. You assume he’s just trying to get his phone, so you kind of twist around to try and prevent him from doing so, but what he does is much worse.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him before collapsing his stupid ass on the bench (which, at this point, has witnessed many horrors), leaving you to sit on his lap. Then — as if this isn’t offensive enough already — he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“God, you’re such a touch-starved freak, it’s actually appalling.”

“You probably won’t look this good in your life ever again.” You roll your eyes at the stupid comment, and he starts tapping the screen along with you, and he even has the nerve to snicker. “I needed to be opportunistic.”

“Whatever, man.”

The weird battle results in a lot of random apps opening and closing, until eventually the gallery comes up on accident. With a feeling of triumph, you slap his hand away, so he won’t get in your way anymore. There you see the long string of pictures depicting Ness’s progression towards hiding under the bench, which, in your opinion, would make a great slideshow. Next are the images featuring you, where you’re looking up at him and struggling to even graze the phone, swiping your fists at thin air. Wow, you never thought you’d see your Great and Almighty Self from such a… pitiful perspective.

Before you can mope about how vertically challenged you are, however, something else catches your eye, and you burst out laughing, borderline dry-heaving from the acuteness of it. “What-”

Kaiser flusters and snatches his phone out of your fingers before pushing you up and away from him. This, for better or for worse, doesn’t wipe your memory or make you unsee the comically large amount of shirtless mirror selfies he has accumulated.

Despite your stumbling, you don’t fall. “How did you always manage to make the exact same pose and exact same expression in every single one of them?! Seriously. That’s spine-chilling.” You pretend to wipe a tear, even if it’s not that funny.

Kaiser doesn’t respond and turns around to toss his phone back to wherever he got it from. Ness — whose presence you kind of forgot about — deems it safe enough to stand up and reemerge. He asks, “What? What did you see?”

“His shrine of himself,” you say. “By the way, I think he’s a stripper.”

“I’m not a stripper,” argues Kaiser as if there was a possibility Ness might believe you.

For the first time, it’s Ness who is pretending Kaiser didn’t say anything. “Did you delete them?”

“No.”

He slumps, disheartened.

You make your way behind him. “Alright, let’s switch back,” you say, rolling up the material of your jersey. Surprisingly Ness accepts the help without any complaints and just accommodates you with a high raise of his hands.

You’re nearing the biggest problem area — his shoulders — when Kaiser deems it fit to intervene. “Ness, bend over. You’re taking too long.”

He does as told and Kaiser, for some godforsaken, idiotic reason, hooks his fingers inside of the collar. But you don’t see that since you’re trying to focus on your part, so instead you just comment on his willingness, “Slutty.”

“S-Shut up- Oh my god, don’t pull like that, what if it tears?!”

“It’s not going to tear.”

This exchange alarms you somewhat, so you shift your gaze to Kaiser, and what greets you is the sight of him tugging on the collar, trying to hoist it over Ness’s head. Your eye twitches. “If you damage mine, I’m gonna make good use of yours. Naturally what I mean by this is that I’ll use it as toilet paper.”

“It’s not going to tear,” repeats Kaiser, yanking harder. Apparently your collective lack of faith in him is vexing him.

… You hear a rip.

___

Happy valentine's day (I wrote this yesterday i was with my boyfriend today lol. He's american so he thinks valentine's day is a real holiday)

[witchwyfe]

fool for you | sh

| pairing: steve harrington x female reader

| précis: steve's in a bad mood until you show up, fluff, cursing

| word count: 856

Steve slaps another VHS tape onto the floor, sighing dramatically.

"Jesus Steve, Keith said to reorganize the horror section, not take your anger out on it." Robin chuckles.

He flips her the bird, not even bothering to turn around and look.

Robin rolls her eyes before heading into the back office to unbox something Keith had asked her to.

During the week, Family Video wasn't as crowded, especially on a Tuesday morning. Boredom fills the air like a thick heat, the two employees desperate for a customer or at least something interesting to happen.

"Harrington!" Robin calls from the office. "Come here,"

Steve huffs, stepping away from the mess he created in the floor, and almost tripping over Poltergeist, on his way to Robin.

"What do you want?" He wonders, rough tone lining his words. He's not mean--never mean-- but comfortable enough around his best friend that he doesn't feel the need to hide his mood.

"What crawled up your ass this morning?" Robin asks, a smirk lining her lips.

"What do you need help with?" He grits his teeth, hands settled on his hips.

"Can't reach that box up there, you're taller, you do it."

He huffs, but moves forward, lifting up and grabbing the box. He bites back another complaint--something about how Robin never has a problem climbing on Keith's desk to get shit, on any other day.

"Anything else you need?" He forces, smile obviously fake and eliciting a laugh from Robin.

"Nothing else right now, besides an attitude adjustment maybe?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

Steve sits back on the floor, and doesn't move for another hour--when the horror section is reorganized to what he hopes are Keith's standards. He swears he just did this last week but he knows better than to bitch about it to Keith.

Robin knows it's a bad mood when she decides to give Steve his break early, scared about him scaring customers away. He'd slammed the register shut a little too hard before she was pushing him away and threatening to lock him in the break room.

And he sits back there, fiddling with the radio until the static goes away, and he smiles when he realizes it's one of your favorite songs.

He's calm for a few moments, the thought of you driving out any annoyances.

The bell rings, alerting him that someone has entered the store. He doesn't give a shit, Robin can deal with whoever came in.

Until he hears something sweet and familiar.

Your voice.

The sound is like a light breaking through the dark cloud above his head, and he's up and out of his seat before he misses too much, the sound of your sweet laugh making his heart clench.

He's shoving through the door, crossing the threshold out into the store to see you, to make sure you're real and not a figment of his imagination.

"Hi," He's beaming, breathless in your presence.

You turn from where you're speaking to Robin, your smile growing unbelievably large when you spot your boyfriend.

You're trying to be polite and finish your conversation with his friend before running into his arms like you want to. He doesn't care, he saunters over and engulfs you in his grip, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo and perfume.

"Missed you," He murmurs into your hair.

"I was just saying," Robin starts, a wicked grin on her lips. "____, thank god you're here, Steve's been in a foul mood all morning and he--"

"That's enough," He cuts her off, blush rising on his cheeks. "She doesn't wanna hear about that."

"Actually she would love to," You pipe up, looking up at him fondly. "You miss me bub?"

"Oh he totally did!" Robin snorts. "He was being so pouty and--"

"Shut up Buckley," He groans, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder.

He nuzzles into you for another minute before Robin makes gagging sounds, eliciting a soft giggle from your lips.

"Alright go finish your break, you're gonna scare the customers away."

"You'd love that," Steve argues, raising an eyebrow.

"I would but I don't think Keith would."

She argues. "As much as I don't care what that motherfucker wants, he writes the checks Steve-O, so that's the way it is."

You share a laugh with your boyfriend until Robin shoos you both away and Steve tugs you into the break room.

"M'serious," He whines, lips at your forehead. "I missed you."

"I know bub," You stretch up to peck the tip of his nose. "I missed you too."

"Didn't think you'd come here. You said you had that group project."

Steve won't admit it because he'd never try to hold you back, but he hates Tuesday's, because it's the one day your schedules don't line up. So while he's at work, you're taking classes nearby at the college.

"Simon canceled." You wrinkle your nose and Steve watches with stars in his eyes. "I swear we're never gonna get that fucking project finished."

"I'll help you with it." He murmurs, lips back on your head, soft against your hairline.

"Okay baby."

© witchwyfe 2022. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[underoospeterparker]

𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

summary: you and jj have similar family situations, but you've never been able to tell him. but when you're left bruised and battered, he's the only person you can think to go to.

warnings: ABUSE, violence, description of cuts, bruises, black eyes, swearing, angsty but with comfort

𓆉‧₊˚✩

you clutched at your bruised and bleeding face, a black eye already forming and a cut completely covering your cheek.

it wasn’t the first time. it had been much worse before, but not as visible as it was this time. you’d guessed he was just too drunk to even care anymore.

you were limping, trying to get to the chateau. you were completely frightened at the idea of your dad being able to catch up with you, even though he was most likely still passed out on the couch.

climbing up the porch steps, you hesitated before opening the door. you didn’t want to your boyfriend to worry. after all, jj had faced much worse than this and he would still want to take care of you, just like you had him.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone what was happening. you hoped nobody was home when you finally let yourself in, making your way to the bathroom.

“y/n?” jj’s voice called out from the living room. “is that you?” shit. he’d already heard you, and there was no way that you could hide this from him.

when you didn’t respond, he grew worried. “sweetheart?” he said again, his voice becoming closer.

as soon as your boyfriend saw you, he smiled, making his way over to you. he turned on the light and then his face fell in less than a second.

rushing to you, he gently cupped your face in his calloused hands, eyes hardening at you being hurt. “who did this?” he asked, a dangerous tone in his voice.

you pulled away reluctantly. “nobody, j.” you plastered a fake smile on your face. “just accidentally banged my head, you know.”

you winced as the lie came out. it was so unbelievable, and your boyfriend knew better.

he slowly guided you to the couch, helping you to sit down. “please, princess,” he murmured. “tell me.”

your eyes dropped to the floor, tearing up already. “my dad,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look at him.

you watched as the look in his eyes moved from questioning to understanding to rage. your tears finally slipped and he softened, tilting your chin up to look at you.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, thumbing away your tears as best as he could. and that was all he could say, really. he knew what it was like, and there were no words to describe the immense pain he knew you were going through right now.

so he just held you tightly to his chest, careful of your bruises, stroking your hair and murmuring that it was all going to be okay.

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then unlinked your body from his to pull himself away.

you whimpered, nervously clutching at his arm. you thought he was leaving you, and realisation clicked in his eyes before he grabbed your hands. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “just going to get john b's kit, okay?”

you nodded, and he reached for you to give you a kiss, comforting you without words.

he returned in a second, immediately taking his place next to you on the sofa. he first tended to your face, rage filling up within him every time you would groan or wince in pain.

he let you play with his hand, never once complaining about your nails leaving crescent moons on his palm. anything to help with the pain. if he could help take your pain away from you, he’d do it in a second.

“are you hurt anywhere else, sweetheart?” he asked softly, placing a bandage on the cut on your hand and then bringing it to his lips.

“yeah,” you mumbled. “stomach area, i think.”

his eyes held nothing but care and worry for you. he gently reached for the bottom of your shirt, murmuring a soft, “can i?”

you nodded, watching him flinch at the sight of the bruises littering your body. “fuck,” he said, forcing himself to meet your eyes. “how long has this been going on?”

you hesitated, and he lightly prodded you. giving up, you said, “couple months.”

you could see the pain in his eyes. “why didn’t you tell me?”

pausing slightly, you murmured, "guess i was scared." recognition dawned on his face and he had never related to you as much as he had in that moment.

"y'know i'd never hurt you," he said, but it was more like a question.

"i know," you responded, letting him patch you up. when he was finally done, he kissed every single one of your cuts and bruises, making you blush.

you buried your head into his chest, where you finally felt like you were safe. "your arms feel like home," you mumbled, drifting off to sleep already.

now it was his turn to blush, and he smiled at your sleepy comment. he murmured a soft, "i love you," before heading off to sleep himself.

𓆉‧₊˚✩

[manticore-fangs]

ohhh im so glad u write for graves because i cannot stop thinkin about him getting home from deployment and fucking shy!fem!reader like as soon as he gets through the door because he missed his pretty girl so much :( he's like a man starved because he is!!! it was driving him nuts not hearing ur sweet voice and feeling ur soft skin every morning and now he's back and he's not gonna let u go anywhere any time soon!!!

omggg :(( when he flings open the door to find you in HIS long t-shirt and just skimpy panties on?? ohhhhhh he’s gone MAD !!!! (not proof read btw)

cw: smut

“fuck- phillip what are you-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without him just diving right into your mouth, sloppy and messy kisses, and your losing breath but he doesn’t care, just needs to know that his love is safe in his arms and okay. he finally lets you take a breather before lifting you up on the nearest structure, which is the dining table.

“phillip, im making food!! it’s gonna get fucking burnt!” you whine and writhe but he’s not letting you go, he needs to have you now. when he was kissing, his hands kept grasping at your (his) shirt, needing it off. “so needy phillip-“ “take ya’ fuckin clothes off and head to the bedroom. i wanna have a good lil’ time with my precious doll, haven’t seen yew’ foreva’ i need ya’ bae, please.” you’ve never seen him be desperate but desperate he was.

you shuffled up the stairs swiftly with your shirt hanging off of your shoulders from the force of him grabbing your harshly, hearing small shreds. you then heard those familiar boots come up the stares, you wide-eyed and realized you didn’t remove your clothes. just as you took off your panties, phillip came in, just looking at your body, staring up n’ down. admiring your form.

“missed ya’ so much bae, couldn’t stand being alone, lemme fuck ya’ please, i know i haven’t showered but i need ya’ i need ye’ so bad. please” his begs are like music to your ears, you think about it for a second before nodding and saying “but- be gentle.” and he nods vigorously. you tell him to come up and in the bed, which he followed through being the good man he is of course.

now he’s balls deep within your pussy and just hammering it, your poor lips getting a beaten from his heavy cum filled balls. their so heavy and- “fuck, love need more of ya’ i just need more of your pretty, perfect pussy. please, let me rub that lil clit for you?” and you nod, your cock drunk and came around 3 times already and you don’t even know what will happen next.

he slaps your clit, not to rough but not to soft either. he hits it, then pats it a few times, leaving you so close to your fourth. he has came 2 times but jesus christ you weren’t prepared for shit next.

he changed positions, pushed your head down as your ass was arched up and he just unbelievably pounded into you, leaving no mercy behind. the rough hands on your hips were definitely get a bruise, your mind hazy in that subspace. just moaning and drooling everywhere. and that’s when you and him both cum for the final time. leaving you in shambles as he collapses beside you. your whimpering from the little stings in your legs and your shaking a bit.

after all of that aftercare, you guys (he carries you) finally reached the bedroom, you both settled down and cuddled up, having some type of show on in the background to fall asleep too, but before you finally close your eyes phillip speaks. “thank you love for this, love you so much, love you.. so perfect for me- ‘m never letting you go. never”

your passed asleep right next to him, in his arms, in bed, at our home

(not proof read, so sorry it’s 6 am 😭😭)

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Okay, so this request got inspired by your post of how the Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD. Not sure how the situations go but what about a hurt/comfort Mercs x Y/N when they unknowingly, or somehow, triggered Y/N’s trauma?

Y/N knows they didn’t mean it but it’s scares them because Y/N doesn’t breakdown like THAT. Y/N tells them it’s okay, although they are triggered they find comfort with the Mercs because they make them feel safe. Mercs just being there for them, listening, and like asks Y/N to let them know if they need anything.

(It’s not often I see these kinds of requests with x reader/y/n stuff, but your post did make me smile a bit as someone with PTSD)

I understand your point of view. Thank you, by the way. I feel very alone in my struggles and it’s nice to hear i’m not.

TF2 Mercs Scare Y/N With PTSD On Accident

Scout:

- Oh.. Fuck. Immediately goes into panic mode because he’s a very empathetic person. You can see it on his face as he struggles to hold it together. He knows freaking out will only make this worse. (He’s less stupid than you think.) Watching you cower and breathe heavily is breaking his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that name.

- “Hey, whoa whoa, whoa, hey hey, relax. It— It was a different person! I was talking about someone different!” He pauses, trying to deduct a possible solution. The fact you’re telling him it’s fine is making him angry at himself. Why would he recklessly slip up like that in front of somebody so important?! He wants you to beat him up. “No, No. You need to like — beat the shit out of me for that. Don’t ever settle for less in a person. Like, actually, beat the shit out of me.”

- This is definitely causing some stares. Scout rarely at all takes accountability for his actions because of how on the defense he is. Seeing this side of him is uncanny. Scout takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into a big hug. Your face immediately meeting his chest. When he was a child, his mother would give him physical affection to subdue his panic attacks. This is the first thing that came to mind.

- “Easy, easy. Alright? That stupid shit won’t ever happen to you again. Not while I’m here.” He whispers in your ear. Running his fingers through your hair. Somehow, he comes rightly by his mother. He even forces himself to steady his breathing on behalf of you. He knows you’ll calm down eventually.

——————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- All it took was one disagreement. One. Single. Sideye from Soldier and you suddenly got transported into the past unwarranted. Your breathing became shallow and you felt like passing out. The impending doom was indescribable. At first you wanted to lash out and attack him for this. But Soldier quickly tilted his helmet up in alarm upon seeing your unexpected reaction. You had to kneel down.

- “Private?” He asked. His voice was more higher pitched than usual. The sight of somebody he loved breaking into pieces like janga blocks all so suddenly was shocking. He was briefly scolded and slapped to death by Medic for triggering your PTSD before, and you didn’t want that for him again. “It’s fine— I’ts fine—“ You said. “No, it fucking isn’t.” He answers.

- “It isn’t fine that you’re feeling this way. I’m going to go into your ear and fix that damn hippo campus or whatever, so help me god.” He said, his eyes full of despair as he knelt down beside you to hesitantly place a hand on your back and rub you. His answer was so unbelievably stupid you almost snapped out of it.

- “I’m sorry for glaring.” He said, sort of laughing at his own pettiness and shaking his head. He truly felt like gutting himself. As i’ve mentioned, Soldier knows full well what PTSD is. The world war did numbers on his comrades’ mental health. He’s seen people completely crumble under the weight of tragedy. “Sometimes it’s just the little things, isn’t it? One moment you’re in the present, and the next moment you stand on the hills of the battlefield overlooking the bloodshed, and you wonder: where the hell did we go wrong?”

- You sort of calm down at his attempt to soothe you. Crawling onto his lap and shoving your face into his uniform. Soldier allowed you to do this. A distant and exhausted look in his eye as he defeatedly fell back against the wall. “Did you feel that way in the war?” You mutter to him. Wondering where his knowledge came from.

- Soldier was still holding his rocket launcher in the other hand. He turned it to the side to examine it for a second. “Eh…” He muttered back. Noting the blood on the handle that was spilt earlier on the frontlines. “I’m just one of those war dogs whose mental strength rivals Zeno of citium himself, I guess.” He said sarcastically.

____________________________________________

Demoman:

- Immediately tries to distract you from the horrible things you begin to relive. Shoves you into your quarters and locks the door. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have liked this, but he’s made it clear to give you your space. You sit on the edge of your bed, unsettled, whilst he peaks out the blinds of your window.

- “Datse’ sum wee ass birds sittin ow on the tree out there. Look at em, bloody fat roosters dey are.” He says, as you look away at the ground. He notices your lack of attention and sighs. Taking an abundance of alcohol into his mouth. “Hey look, ye wanna know sumthin?” He points his flask at you. “Lemme tell you sumthin about explosives.”

- “Once a landmine explodes, kablooey. Thatse it. No goin’ back. But yer brain ain’t like that.” He tells you, pointing at your head. Frustratingly, you roll your eyes “Why’d you bring me in here, Demoman? And — thanks but my fucking wounds are unfixable.” Your tone sounds more annoyed than you’d like it to be. But you couldn’t help it right now, you felt like your body was attacking itself.

- “NAH. You ain’t. y’know why?” He knocked on his own head with his flask. “See this thing er’? this thing can mend itself. Unlike an arm or leg. OR AN EYE.” He made sure to put emphasis on that last part for some reason as he spoke it to the ceiling. Tavish still kept his respectful distance as he paced around the room. “Isn’t that just my luck? Enough about dat, tho. Look at ye! Just look at ye! You’re here. Despite those aforementioned metaphorical landmines goin off! Isn’t that crazy? There’s so much space in between what happened and whatse to come. Dont be impatient with yerself. I’ll follow you through this dense forest. Okay? You go there and then you’re there, and once you’re there, you’re there and then you’re there. Y’know? I’ll get you there.” He’s clearly drunk but this somehow helped. You watch him clear his throat and unsteadily sit down in a chair. Sitting in silence with you.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Engineer is an adult. He has (mostly) mastered the art of keeping calm on behalf of a panicking person’s sake. “Hey now…” You hear that thick, creamy drawl behind you. What had triggered you was a loud noise in the server room followed by the crashing of metal echoing off the walls. Engineer happened to be nearby. “That was all me, sorry for the scare pardner.” He tilts his hard hat in respect. He must’ve heard your yelp.

- As you sat cowering against those old computers, tears flooding down your cheeks, Engineer approached you like he would an injured stray kitten. Slowly kneeling down, a refusal to make any sudden movements. His wrench in the other hand had a dent in the adjustable jaw. “Was tryin’ to tinker with somethin’ and some shit fell onto the grating. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He said. Tilting your chin up to admire your face. Even as you were caked in tears and sweat, he still found profound beauty in this.

- He was making an effort to lie. The wrench had traces of dark red blood on it. Your eyes peaked over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of an enemy spy’s shoes just behind the mess of computers. Engineer was a good liar. If it weren’t for the dead spy beyond him then you would’ve believed his comforting lie. It wasn’t the spy you were scared of though.. The noise did it all. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He whispered again. “It’s alllllll in the past.”

- voooooOoshh. Yeah, figures :/

- “Would you excuse me for a sec, darlin?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, whipping around as he stood up and bitch slapped that same enemy spy with his wrench. Watching him slam against the machinery and lie bleeding on the ground. “Dead ringer, seriously?” He asked. “je te déteste.” (I fucking hate you.) The enemy spy choked out. You felt slightly better afterwards. Knowing Engineer would be able to protect you before anything could truly occur.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Offers to beat the shit out of anybody who triggers your ptsd. TO DEATH. He comes pretty close to doing so a bunch of times. Scout had unintentionally done this and he couldn’t walk for a week afterwards. Heavy was pretty certain he crushed some of his spine. So imagine his dismay when your vacant eyes couldn’t leave a poster on his wall. He knew that stare anywhere — in fact — he had that disconnected stare before.

- Heavy snapped you out of your momentary dissociation by ripping the poster down and crumbling it up. “Heavy did not like that book anyway…” He said, frowning as he threw it away in the trash bin next to his bed. “Come. Do not look at things that remind you. Not good for health.” He beckoned his large hand over to his bed and you laid down next to him. Instinctively cuddling into his chest to try and even out your breathing, But your agony was evident. He could feel your heart practically bursting out of your chest.

- “fetal position.” He instructed you. You did so, hugging your entire body. It was then he took you into his arms and applied light pressure. He had learnt to do this from a Russian psychology paper. Your pain was quickly dying down after this. Who knew being squished to death would help so much? The lingering feelings of dread would remove themselves from you in record time. Normally it would be hours or even days. Every time this happens, he’ll use pressure therapy to aid you.

- If you dislike that type of stuff, he’ll read you a children’s book. For some reason those always helped him. Maybe even take you into the main lobby area to sit down with the boys and listen to their conversation. The white noise of their stupid conversations is distracting, and the presence of friends is always comforting.

——————————————————————————

Pyro:

- :((((((((((((( Looks completely fucking devastated.

- They’re quite reasonable. Immediately asks you what triggered you, and how they can keep you away from it. They’re patient and observant. Especially if you’re incapable of answering them. Their senses will eventually find the object, smell, or word, etc that had caused this in the first place. Silence to Pyro is always louder than words. They make quick work of the issue.

- They tell everybody on the team about this. (Which takes a while by the way because nobody can fucking understand them.) And go into huge detail about why they shouldn’t have/say certain things around you. Nobody’s allowed to rudely question them or else somebody’s belongings are going up in flames.

- Speaking of setting people on fire.. People aren’t allowed to call you a faker either. This happens way too often. How stupid can people truly get? Said people go missing after a week or so and the Tuefort police can never find the body. Every time this happens, you know who to blame. For some reason you also find out later down the line that several power classes were working in cooperation with Pyro’s murders. Thanks guys.

- If present in their room, they’ll bring a bunch of their plushies over to you and cover you in blankets. Watching old kid’s movies with you to make you feel better. This especially works well if you sfw age regress to cope with ptsd. Will 100% be your caregiver.

—————————————————————————-

Sniper:

- God dammit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why didn’t he just shut his big mouth and die god dammit fuck fuck fuck he wants to die FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NOOO WHY DID YOU GO SILENT

- It was the way he said something that got you. It sounded too familar to you-know-whatsit. You were in his sniper nest when this happened. He took his eye from the scope to see you on the floor holding your chest and trying in vain to control the breathing issues you were encountering. “SsShit!” He hissed angrily at himself, getting up and sitting next to you on the floor. He didn’t even make a move to touch you. He knew how horrible things could feel in moments like these. It wasn’t until you returned the favor by leaning your head against him did he put his arm around you.

- “Sniper, I feel like throwing up..” You say, nausea symptoms setting in. He didn’t have any medicine with him other than painkillers, so he made room for you to lay your head on his lap. Putting his hand on your head. “Easy now. This’ll pass.” He whispered. It was moreso his crazy low voice that began calming you down. Jesus christ he was trying so hard not to blame himself right now.

- He was right though. It was important to believe him. This’ll pass too. It always does. You weren’t in that horrid space right now and the nest was dead silent minus the chirping of song birds outside. He remained on guard the entire time you rested on him. His eyes looking at the door, then the hole he peeped his gun through, then the door again.

- He said nothing the entire time. What was there to say? Your past had been eroded. He had no excuses nor complaints. Not even a single question. Sniper was purposefully making himself soundless to aid your recovery process. Every so often when you twitched, and started breathing heavier than normal, he’d rub your scalp in response. This is how he comforts you during a flashback most of the time. Allowing you the bliss of silence and touch.

—————————————————————————-

Medic:

- HUH???? Wait a second.. fast breathing, wanting to self harm, panicking like you were about to die, and other familiar symptoms? Oh. He knew right away what this was. Time to make sure.

- You were screaming in the corner of his lab, cowering and on the verge of pissing yourself. It was awful. It was god awful. Probably the worst one you’ve had this year. Heart palpitations and all. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t focus. Medic knelt down in front of you with an incredibly serious expression across his face. Lifting his finger up and watching you — or at least you trying — to follow it. Some other mercs were nearby watching this go down in slight horror. They had no clue what you struggled with or why you were acting like this. You felt like you were surrounded by a bunch of idiots once again who were too stupid to fathom your experiences.

- “What’s wrong with Y/N, Doc?” Soldier asked. He had the faintest idea of what it was but he didn’t want to assume. “Hm.” Medic answered bluntly in response. He didn’t even look at soldier as he dismissed everybody with the aggressive shooing of his hand. Waiting until everybody left to talk to you.

- He took you gently by the shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He instructed. You thrashed a bit and struggled to do so. It was hard to not feel intimidated by all this. “The year is 1971. You’re you. You’re here. The stuff that happened, it happened a long time ago.” He said. When it didn’t ground you enough he made you repeat your age, and the date.

- “It’ll happen again!” You exclaim, “It’s happening again!” You scream in retaliation. Medic shook his head calmly. “No, it is not happening again. You have a brain injury mien schatz—“ He was cut off by your terrified yelling. You clung to him for dear life and desperation and he clung back just as hard. He was kind of thankful nobody was here to witness this.

- He only pulls away to take a deep breath and you instinctively mimicked him, holding it for a few seconds as he counted and then let go. You synced up your breathing with his and after what seemed like forever, the repeated breathing exercises were slightly helping. He had his latex glove on your chest the hold time to make sure you were doing it. Weakness took over you and you threw yourself into another hug. Wanting to be carried by him.

——————————————————————————-

Spy:

- Spy has flashbacks too but they’re less aggressive than yours. He had trained himself to stay composed by suppressing it, and he’d rather not make the same mistake with you. For a spilt second, one could easily mistake his stoic posture as you cried there in his chair as complete indifference. But he felt things far from that. You had dumped all this stuff onto him out of nowhere upon entering his quarters because you were sick of being quiet. It boiled over then and there like a volcano.

- “Hmph.. So it seems once again someone has been failed by a worthless system. Pour l'amour de Dieu.” (For god’s sake.) He angrily snuffed out his cigarette in his ash tray. Crushing it for good measures. His righteous anger was filling the entire room with dread. Spy wasn’t pleasant when he was mad. You made your posture smaller in an attempt to look innocent. You did not want to face his wrath.

- “What is this?” He asked you curiously. “It is not you I am angry at. It is the inept incompetence of those around you.” He sat in his chair adjacent from you. He wanted better for you. So much better. After a moment of silence and Spy rubbing his temples he finally spoke. “I have learnt.. Many languages. In none of them do I have the words for just how angry I am that you suffer this way.” He admitted. Looking at his gloved hands. It was rare he was so vulnerable like this, so it immediately peaked your interest in-between sobs.

- “Perhaps words aren’t enough to describe how even you feel. Yes?” He asked. You were trying to nod in response but you couldn’t focus hard enough to do so. The pain was too much. There was a look in Spy’s eye that suggested he knew that. “Come sit on my lap, let me lull you to sleep.” He offered, holding his arms out.

[missviviii]

a/n: boredom has gotten the better of me <3

.

“Isn’t this fun?”

mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, suggestive

summary: sparring with mizu took a bit of a turn.

——————————————————————————

You were a samurai just like Mizu. You may not be as revengeful as her, or grumpy, but you were pretty good at handling a blade. Mizu respected you for your talents and tolerated you—half because she liked you. You are probably the only person she’ll tolerate to be close to her or spar with her whenever you felt like it.

Today was one such day, on a cold, breezy day where the sun was bright in the sky and the wind was gentle and perfect. You were sitting on a rock, watching Mizu spar with interest while you fixed her ripped clothing from whatever fight she had gotten into.

“You’re staring a lot, you know,” Mizu says as she pauses, turning her head around to look at you while the tree branches she had sliced fell the snowy ground. You hummed, tossing a cloth over to her so she could wipe away her sweat.

“Can’t I just watch you train? Why, afraid I’ll learn your fighting style and find a way to get past you?” You teased while you placed your needle and Mizu’s clothing beside you on the rock. Mizu scoffed, clearly amused at your teasing. You stood up, rolling up your sleeves and grabbing your blade. You walked over to the opposite side of her, pointing the tip of your sword at her while you tilted your head to the side, as if to dare her to strike first.

Mizu rolled her eyes, almost impressed by your courage. But, if you really wanted to do this, she won’t hold back. “Fine, but don’t blame me if you—“

As if to purposely ignore her warning, you strike first, your sword cutting through the air and barely hitting her cheek. Mizu took a step back, squinted her eyes, then took off her glasses. Oh it’s on, you little piece of shit—

Oh you were good, she could tell. You’ve been around long enough to understand how she fights, and how her breathing gives away her location if you’d just listen reaaaaal closely. The sound of swords clinking against each other, the sound of the two blades scratching each other as you ward off her blade from your face—it all made your adrenaline rush.

Then you did the unbelievable—you threw her blade out of her hand as she managed to pin you down to the ground. Obviously not going down without a fight, you grabbed her shoulders and swung her over, making you sitting on top of her. But Mizu definitely refused to let you win. You two wrestled and wrestled, attempting to trap one another down onto the ground.

Finally, you did it. You got her under you, your thighs on each side of her head and almost straddling her face. “I..shit..win, woo!” You panted, wiping away the sweat on your forehead with your sleeves. Mizu was panting real hard too, face glistening with sweat and her hair falling out of her usual bun. But then realization struck you, you were on top of her.

Seeing your realization, Mizu threw a small comment at you. “Shit, i may have to spar with you more often if it means I get a view like this,” Mizu said, a smirk growing on her lips as you covered your flustered face. You were about to lift yourself up, but Mizu’s hands dug into your thighs and forced you to stay.

“Hey, who said i was done with you?”

——————————————————————————

- KSJZJSJZJS HELP ME

[somnambulic-thing]

Boom pt I

I just wrote this. (Instead of working on my 4000wips but what else is new?) It's totally random and silly and that was exactly what I needed today.

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Words: 694 ||Contentwarnings: implication of violent moshpit, Eddie's elbow to readers face (he's so sorry), bruising, mention of various explosives, strangers to stupidly enamoured strangers, hurt/comfort I guess?, fluff I guess?, meet cute if you're into that sorta thing?||

One moment, you’re screaming kicking jumping your heart out in a moshpit and in the next, your cheekbone explodes.

Well, at least that's how it feels.

“Shitshitshitshiiiit,” chants the dynamite into the break between two songs. “So sorry, shit, you okay? Hey, hey, can you look at me?”

You can and you do, reluctantly removing your hand from your face. Mr Gunpowder stares at you with wide dark eyes out of a hot, sweaty face that also looks like explosives; with his sharp drippy jaw and sensual mouth and oh, he’s biting his full, pink bottom lip now in another attempt to blow your head up. Okay, yeah, it’s more a worried than a steamy gesture but holy shit; if that’s what he looks like worried, you want to devastate him.

“How bad is it?”

He scrunches up his adorable nose. “Already bruising—“

          ‘LET’S MAKE THIS A BLOOD BATH!’ the frontman shouts and counts in his drummer.

“Nope!” TNT-guy says, loops his sticky arm under yours and pulls you through the crowd faster than the blast beat.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

“BAR! ICE!”

—

You sigh with relief as the cold sinks into your hot, throbbing cheek and you have to close your eyes because you’re a bit dizzy and you’re not sure if it’s caused by the smack in the head or by Nitroglycerin Incarnate who’s gently holding a bundle of ice cubes wrapped in a dishtowel to your face.

Whatever it is, you thank the universe for adrenaline.

“I’m so so sorry!” he says for the hundredth time, then you feel his fingers brush your sweaty hair behind your ear. “Let me know when you feel sick? You want some water? I’m sooo sorry.”

“It’s alright!”

“No, noooo, it’s not—“

“It’s a grindcore show, Granade-boy. Shit like that happens—“

“What— what did you call me?”

You could swear the confusion in his voice is laced with a smirk but it’s still plenty loud here at the bar so you open your eyes.

So he has dimples too.

 “What I was saying,” you deflect and your face stings when you smile, “don’t beat yourself up over this… One black eye is enough for one night!”

He tilts his head back and groans. You shiver and mentally mark five mouth-watering spots where you want to bite his neck before he looks back at you; totally heartbroken. “Too soon!”

“Wait! Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“Yes! Exactly,” he shakes his head, a soft smile contrasting the furrowed brows. “You’re way too cool about the fact that some asshole just nearly cracked your skull with his elbow.”

“Exploded,” you explain casually.

“W-what?”

“That’s what it felt like on impact.”

“Ah,” a satisfied noise, smooth, warm. “Granade-boy. Now I get it. Can cross this out as a sign of concussion then.” He carefully removes the ice from your face to look at the bruise. Tilting his head, his eyes rest heavy on your cheek before his gaze travels to your eyes and won’t leave again; it’s galvanic, sends a current down your spine that forces your ribs to expand and your pelvis to twitch on the barstool he ordered you to sit on. “It’s Eddie.”

Eddie takes a step closer, the damp fabric of his shirt ghosting your knees and brings the ice slowly back to your skin, wincing when you do. Sorry, he mouthes silently and breaks into a wide, toothy smile when you roll your eyes playfully.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Unbelievable.” The residual red of exertion and excitement on his cheeks deepens again. “Really nice to meet you too... badass bitch.”

Your laugh is a hearty bark; it also hurts but, oh my, is it worth it when Eddie joins you with his smooth, deep cackle. He doesn't stop, even when you lean back, chuckling and moaning, to hold your cheek. His stomach meets your knees, the ice clinks softly as he drops it to the counter. He’s gently holding on to your shoulders, his right hand cold and wet against your skin. “Too soon?” he smirks and you laugh out again.

“What’s your name?” he asks and swallows hard, repeating your name after you like it's a charm. “Can I buy you pizza?”

“They have pizza here?”

“No.”