#i hope this is good lol

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[weskie]

O Captain, My Captain! (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | 2100 words, dubcon, gunpoint blow job, sex fantasies, gender neutral reader, wesker being a little shit but somehow still a lil soft | Fic Directory

original request

You always were his favorite.  So smart and perceptive, sharp and witty.  Of course you would be the one to find him first.  It almost pained him to devastate you in such a way.  To see the way your face fell when those words left his mouth.

“I’ve always been with Umbrella.”

The way you whispered his title in disbelief when he pointed his gun at you was… perplexing.  He figured you’d have one of your usual wise-cracks to chuck at him.  Instead you–

“I trusted you, I–” You quiver, staring down the barrel that could spell your undoing in a mere flash. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the tank containing the Tyrant.  “Please don’t kill me…” 

Beautiful, isn’t it?  Wesker thinks to himself.  He wonders what you must think of his good work.  What you must think of everything.  

Deep down, he doesn’t want to do this. In fact, it had been his plan to grab you before death could take you in some twisted form or another.  You were the only one he wasn’t keen to place in this experiment.  He fully intended to run off with you in his arms, play the hero, whisk you away to safety and maybe finally allow some of his affections free to make an attempt at something more.  You weren’t supposed to find him.

You’ve certainly dashed his plans.  So what now?  

“I’ll do anything!”

Of that, he’s certain.  Most people staring down the barrel of a gun would say the same.  Perhaps…

Now that’s a thought.

“Anything?”  He asks with a cock of his head.  “And just what could you do for me, my dear?”  The corner of his mouth twitches in a small smirk as the term of endearment hits you.  He saunters forward, handgun still trained on you.  Little do you know he’d clicked the safety on before raising it toward you to begin with.

It’s precious how you shiver under his gaze.  Like you know exactly what he’s thinking, or you’re at least partly aware of it.  

This situation has obviously ruined his plans to pursue you once the dust had settled.  Perhaps he should take what he can get now while he’s got the opportunity.  Sure there’s terror in your eyes, but he’s seen the way you looked at him before.  The glint in your gaze, the pining glances and shy smiles.  Wesker was no fool.

But he is an opportunist.

“I don’t kno–”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He purrs, pressing the muzzle under your chin to force you to look right into his eyes.  He glides his thumb across your lower lip, tongue peaking out to wet his own.  “Ah, ah… Don’t squirm.  You wouldn’t want my finger to slip, would you?”  It isn’t even on the trigger.  He smiles sweetly as you take a breath to still yourself.  “That’s it, sweetheart.  Very good.”

You’re adorable like this.  Eyes wide, lower lip quivering beneath the pad of his thumb.  Wesker leans forward until his lips are next to your ear.

“I want you on your knees, my dear.  Think of it like a new training exercise– just you and me.”  His breaths fan against the shell of your ear, words shocking your eyes even wider.  He can hear you gulp in anticipation before you start to descend.  “Show your Captain what you can do, hm?” The sight alone has him twitching in his pants.  He’d never admit to the overflowing excitement in watching you kneel before him, knowing full well he was about to have you in a way he’s only dreamt of.  God, the thoughts he’s had of you– the way he’s come apart at mere fantasies all because of you…

His breath stutters as you work him free from his pants, halting entirely when you grasp his cock and stroke.  He can feel the tremble in your grip, so he smooths his free hand through your hair to coax you to relax.  He nudges you forward gently. 

He knows you can’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, but he almost wishes you could.  If you could only see the exhilaration in his eyes coupled with the lack of genuine hostility, maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of the gun in his right hand.  Maybe you’d know it was all for show to keep you from getting any bright ideas.  And fuck, he could’ve dropped the damned thing the second your tongue grazed the underside of his tip.  It’s been so long since he’s been touched by another; he never has the time to even consider it with his double-triple-agent life. It’s almost embarrassing how sensitive he is to the warm wetness of your tongue.

But he needs more.

His fingers curl in your hair to pull you nearer– his signal for you to open wide and take him. He releases a shuddering breath when your lips wrap around him, descending nice and slow.  The sensation of you sucking him is simply beyond words, completely and utterly tantalizing in the way it combines with the hot drag of your tongue.

A soft moan works past his lips when that pesky gag reflex of yours makes your throat clamp deliciously around him.  He doesn’t let you pull off.  He can’t drop the facade quite yet– can’t be too gentle lest you get any stupid ideas.

“Ah, ah… Hold it.”  He breathes, fingers gripping tighter in your hair, pushing your head down.  “That’s it, dear…”  For all of your sputtering below, you manage to resist the need to release him by the time he finally jerks you back.  

He gives you a minute to gasp desperately before pressing the gun to your temple. Your eyes flutter open as if you'd forgotten the lingering threat.  Your pupils are blown and the way you squirm is all too obvious.

He knew you'd like this. 

Somewhere, deep past that layer of fear, there was a part of you so aroused by this that you couldn’t help but let it affect you.  Maybe, with his cock down your throat, you realized that this was what you’d always wanted too.  That all those sweet little looks you’d hide when he’d turn your way weren’t for nothing.  That your lust for your Captain was coming to fruition in an unorthodox way that was still just as delicious as whatever sinful thoughts you’ve kept of him all this time.

“I'm impressed. But you can do better for me, can’t you?”  Wesker’s eyes roll when you dive back in of your own accord, suckling and swirling the tip in a way that screams more than mere survival instinct.  It takes no time at all for him to give in and start with slow thrusts into your mouth.  Paired with the way he controls the bobbing of your head makes it truly like heaven itself.  Wesker could damn well forget everything– where he was, all that had happened, even the Tyrant mere feet away meant nothing right now.  Your little gags and chokes around his shaft ring like music to his ears, drowning out the hum of machinery preserving his subject, echoing in his mind to wash away every scream he’s heard since this mission began.

There’s just this.

Just you and him.

“That’s– mmh, that’s it!”  Wesker’s breaths grow heavier by the second and he presses the muzzle harder to your temple, wordlessly demanding that you keep up with those wicked glides of your tongue, keep swallowing his cock, keep fucking taking him.

His mask begins to slip with every weakening moan that was never meant to make it past his lips until finally– fucking finally– he holsters that damned gun and grips your head with his other hand, hips rolling until that familiar tightening sensation grows and grows and your name chokes breathlessly from his lips.  With one last sharp thrust, Wesker buries himself to the base, hands pulling your face flush to his groin as he paints your throat with his release.  His thighs quake and he can just barely register your hands grasping to still him.

He tries so hard to be quiet and maintain that perfect decorum of his, but it’s useless to try.  Not when he’s balls deep in your mouth, not when he knows he’s claimed you from the inside out.  He’s thought of this too many times.  Of how he’d have loved to have you on your knees under his desk back in his office.  You’d suck him just as sweetly as you’ve done now, one hand stroking the base of his cock while the other smooths up and down his leg.  He’d let you get him close– so fucking close. He’d let you get him right on the brink of losing himself and then kick away in his swivel chair and fuck you senseless on the desk.  He wouldn’t even care if the rest of the team could hear the sweet sounds you sing for him.  He’d fill you over and over again until his come leaks from you.  He’d kneel down and eat you clean just so he could fill you all over again.

Every fantasy flashes in his mind as the throbbing bliss tapers away.  This absolutely cannot be the last time he has you.  

It won’t be.

Wesker pulls out slowly, staring down intently to watch every inch slip free.  His thumbs wipe away at your tear tracks before kneeling to your level.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”  He asks as if he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation and made you think your only way out was to let him fuck your mouth.  He smiles at you, though, try as he might, he can’t quite manage that same wicked smirk he’d given you earlier.  The facade has faded, and he’s back to the same old Captain Wesker who used to hide his smiles at your quips.  The same one who now feels the tiniest pang of guilt at how spooked and used you look.

There's one last thing he needs from this moment. He couldn't possibly let it pass him by knowing he may never have the chance again. And, if he's lucky, you'll understand every unspoken word. 

Wesker leans forward, hands cupping your face to bring you into a kiss that was far from the depravity he'd shown you mere moments ago. Your squeak of shock is swallowed by him, and it's the perfect opportunity to wiggle his tongue into your mouth and explore to his heart's content– pleased to no end when you reciprocate.

“You've always been,” he pants between wet pecks to your lips, “my favorite of the bunch.”  One of your arms loops around his neck, and that’s when it hits him.

Cold steel presses beneath his jaw and he smiles against you, proud beyond measure that you'd pulled one over on him so easily. 

“Still trust me?”  He asks.

“Should I?”  You counter, panting softly against him.  He can see the way doubt blends with belief.  You’re the picture perfect specimen of indecision and he would just love to see your reaction to this…

“Go on.  Pull.”  Wesker murmurs. “Trust your Captain.”

When you make not even so much as a twitch to flinch from what you’d expect to be an exceptionally loud mess, he grasps your hand, finger creeping over yours to direct it onto the trigger.

How peculiar that, much like he’d done, you hadn’t even put it on there.

You look at him with wide eyes for the hundredth time since you found him, suddenly looking much more terrified than when he’d first aimed it at you.

“Wesker, I–”

Click.

You flinch for nothing, and Wesker simply gives you a smug grin as he watches you realize you were never truly in danger.  You run through a variety of emotions.  Anger, betrayal, disbelief, acceptance… 

“What's wrong, my dear?”  Wesker purrs, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “You didn’t think I’d actually kill you, did you?”

The look on your face elicits a deep, amused chuckle. 

“Foolish.  I suppose you’ll need to be made to understand just how deep my appreciation for you goes, hm?”  With his free hand, he removes his gun from your grasp before pushing you slowly onto your back.  Your chest heaves in anticipation, though you lack that deer-in-the-headlights look from earlier.

Good.

Wesker removes his glasses, placing them on your head to rest against your hair.

“Remember,” he whispers, leaning down to nibble at the side of your neck. “Trust your Captain.”

[gliyerabaa]

....can you do 2? For that angry confession prompt?

HELL YEAH I CAN BROTHER.

2. “I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” “I mean, I’m fine so it’s okay—” “No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go bat-shit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.“

----

this is perfect because I have actually been dabbling around in the idea of an AU where glinda does go with elphaba, becoming a medic/healer for the resistance.... this is a chance to play in that world

(ALF acronym used with permission of @funghifungi) (Go read All is Fair right now its such a good fic)

I will take a slight creative liberty with the dialogue, I think, but the spirit of the prompt will surely be there, probably.

trigger warnings for mild descriptions of blood and injuries

so, without further ado, here we go...

----

Glinda bites her lip, worried beyond belief. Elphaba should have been back hours ago. It's getting dark, it's started to snow, and she worries deeply for Elphaba's safety.

The cottage they live in is little more then a temporary home, a place of refuge until they are discovered again. She lights a candle in each window, knowing that they are a beacon for friend and foe alike. It's worth the risk, she figures, knowing that it's the only way her Elphie will get home safely.

Glinda gazes out the window, where a vaguely humanoid shadow lumbers forward in the growing blizzard. She reaches for the dagger she keeps at her hip, tightening her grip on the weapon, should she have to defend herself.

The door opens, slamming against the wall with the force of the wind, and the figure illuminated in candlelight is all edges and bones, so very distinctly Elphaba. Breathing a sigh of relief, Glinda sheathes her blade, stepping forward to greet her wife.

Elphaba collapses in her arms.

"Elphie!" Glinda shrieks, sagging under the weight of her companion's limp form. Carefully, she guides Elphaba to the bed, then moves to close the door, shutting out the freezing cold. She gathers her spellbook and her medical supplies and puts a kettle over the fire, preparing for what is sure to be a long night of caring for Elphaba after whatever reckless mess she'd gotten herself into this time.

"Glinda..." Elphaba murmurs from the bed.

Glinda rushes to her side immediately, "What have you done this time, you idiot?"

"I'm fine," Elphaba coughs. There is blood on her face, and her skin is flushed from exposure to the cold, "Really, I am."

"Did you liberate the Animal camp, like you'd set out to do?"

"No," Elphaba replies, shivering even under two woolen blankets, "The mobilized unit of the ALF strike force was intercepted just north of the camp, and I couldn't save them. They were all either captured or shot."

Glinda carefully slides Elphaba's arm out of the sleeve of her shirt. The fabric clings wetly to a thick, bleeding gash. "And you were caught in the crossfire, weren't you?"

"Yeah..." Elphaba averts her gaze, not wanting to look at her own wounds as they mend themselves under Glinda's magic.

"I really can't let you go anywhere without you coming back hurt."

"This isn't about what you want, Glinda, it's about Animal liberation, it's about making Oz a place where everyone can exist in peace." Glinda winces at the remark, "Besides, I'm fine, thanks to you, so it's okay--"

"It's not okay!" Glinda snaps, taken aback by the edge in her own voice, "Every time you leave on one of your little crusades, I'm left here, worrying myself sick, wondering if this will be the time you won't come back!"

"Glin, this is something so much bigger than ourselves. You joined this fight for the same reason I did, you should know that--"

"I joined for you." Glinda says plainly.

"... What?"

"Don't get me wrong," Glinda sighs, "I care about Animals and I care about justice and I really do want a better world, but..."

"But?! There is no 'but', either you're in this fight or you aren't!"

"Elphie, just listen to me!"

A log in the fireplace crackles. Glinda can hear the water in the kettle reaching a boil. She needs to get this off her chest now, before tea.

"When you asked me to come with you, I said yes. Because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving your side. I married you because I wanted you to be mine forever, until death do us part. I didn't anticipate you going out and seeking death-"

"I'm not seeking death."

"You certainly aren't shying away from it! I swear, I'm having to patch you up at least once a week because you're just too damn reckless!"

Elphaba doesn't respond. From across the room, the tea kettle whistles, an annoyingly high pitched squeal only adding to Glinda's nerves.

"I love you, Elphie," Glinda says as she stands up, putting an end to the conversation that they have so frequently. It only ever involves talking in the same circles, spiraling in on each other, usually devolving into desperate, messy loving. "Now. What kind of tea would you like?"

[zeloinator]

Prompt 11 make up for Sunday!!

Post ARR - Heavensward

🩵

[griimlockk]

Hello, hello!

requests = open! (0/10)

i’m grim / griim, and this is my stim blog!

i’m a minor, i use she/they pronouns, and i’m auDHD :)

im not very good with social media so i apologize in advance, below is some things you should know!

i have a main blog, @/robotsindisguiseeee! so if you see that in your notes just know it’s me lol

i tend to reuse gifs on accident or if there’s not as many as i’d like, if that ever bothers you just ask and i will switch it up :)

when i say “let me know if you need anything changed” if i forget something, or you dislike a certain thing — you can dm me or you can send in another ask :) (wont answer it publicly if you dont want)

banned fandoms (fans can interact, i just wont make a board of it)

helluva boss and hazbin hotel, i dont know much about it and it makes me uncomfortable

danganrompa, again, makes me uncomfortable

real people, it’s a bit odd BUT people playing characters is okay! (example: in space with markiplier, i will do works like that!)

i cant think of anything else at the moment, but if i do it’ll be added

…and for fandoms i like doing!

i’ll probably get these done quickest, but you can request stuff that isn’t here too!

transformers!! earthspark is my favorite but i’ll do any iteration

rusty lake, and cube escape

minecraft, so mobs, dimensions, stuff like that!

my singing monsters

the amazing world of gumball (my special interest, alongside transformers)

dni basic criteria (anything discriminatory), proship, anti-lgbtqia, terfs, nsfw (jokes n occasional are fine, but nsfw accs please don’t follow)

other than that, welcome and i hope you enjoy my boards! :3

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[dapper-lil-arts]

Last one I swear... Unless?

[sanguine-squid]

look at my biology headcanons boy

[bulbagarden]

did you know they just spawn in the back of moving trucks sometimes?

[lylahammar]

IT'S FALIGON DAY BABYYYYYY I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF THIS DAY SINCE 2018 WE'RE POPPIN MASSIVE BOTTLES 🥳🎉🐉🍾🍻🔥

[sensitiveheartless]

Rest of the comic is under the cut, because LONG :0

Also! Content warnings for body horror, guns, blood(although in black and white) and just...horror in general tbh

Operation "Fall of the Hooded Hawk": For situations where one half of skk has to shoot without having clear vision, and relies on the direction of their partner. In this case, Chuuya was giving Dazai coordinates of where to fire by tapping against his ear. (It's kind of like a trust fall)

I scripted a whole followup conversation with more explanation of what exactly the mirror was, and just general context, but this comic has gotten so long that I'm gonna write that as a short scene in prose, because it's mostly dialogue and if I try to draw it all then I think my hands will secede from my body lol — I'll probably be able to get that done in the next couple of days. But in the meantime, thanks for reading! :D

(3/5/24 edit: Followup convo is done!)

[foamloam]

Sea, Swallow Me - Cocteau Twins

[reasonsforhope]

By the way, I would literally bet money that we're going to successfully keep global warming below 2 degrees celsius.

Would I bet my whole savings on it? No, not yet. But the way the data is trending, in two or three years, I very well might.

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[angelcake10023]

Samadhi Fire Tang Au- Part 3

A Guilty Conscious

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