#not because his team leader ordered him too

[daydreamerdrew]

The Defenders (1972) #54

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Three AI insights for hard-charging, future-oriented smartypantses

MERE HOURS REMAIN for the Kickstarter for the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There’s also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Living in the age of AI hype makes demands on all of us to come up with smartypants prognostications about how AI is about to change everything forever, and wow, it's pretty amazing, huh?

AI pitchmen don't make it easy. They like to pile on the cognitive dissonance and demand that we all somehow resolve it. This is a thing cult leaders do, too – tell blatant and obvious lies to their followers. When a cult follower repeats the lie to others, they are demonstrating their loyalty, both to the leader and to themselves.

Over and over, the claims of AI pitchmen turn out to be blatant lies. This has been the case since at least the age of the Mechanical Turk, the 18th chess-playing automaton that was actually just a chess player crammed into the base of an elaborate puppet that was exhibited as an autonomous, intelligent robot.

The most prominent Mechanical Turk huckster is Elon Musk, who habitually, blatantly and repeatedly lies about AI. He's been promising "full self driving" Telsas in "one to two years" for more than a decade. Periodically, he'll "demonstrate" a car that's in full-self driving mode – which then turns out to be canned, recorded demo:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

Musk even trotted an autonomous, humanoid robot on-stage at an investor presentation, failing to mention that this mechanical marvel was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Now, Musk has announced that his junk-science neural interface company, Neuralink, has made the leap to implanting neural interface chips in a human brain. As Joan Westenberg writes, the press have repeated this claim as presumptively true, despite its wild implausibility:

https://joanwestenberg.com/blog/elon-musk-lies

Neuralink, after all, is a company notorious for mutilating primates in pursuit of showy, meaningless demos:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-pcrm-neuralink-monkey-deaths/

I'm perfectly willing to believe that Musk would risk someone else's life to help him with this nonsense, because he doesn't see other people as real and deserving of compassion or empathy. But he's also profoundly lazy and is accustomed to a world that unquestioningly swallows his most outlandish pronouncements, so Occam's Razor dictates that the most likely explanation here is that he just made it up.

The odds that there's a human being beta-testing Musk's neural interface with the only brain they will ever have aren't zero. But I give it the same odds as the Raelians' claim to have cloned a human being:

https://edition.cnn.com/2003/ALLPOLITICS/01/03/cf.opinion.rael/

The human-in-a-robot-suit gambit is everywhere in AI hype. Cruise, GM's disgraced "robot taxi" company, had 1.5 remote operators for every one of the cars on the road. They used AI to replace a single, low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged, specialized technicians. Truly, it was a marvel.

Globalization is key to maintaining the guy-in-a-robot-suit phenomenon. Globalization gives AI pitchmen access to millions of low-waged workers who can pretend to be software programs, allowing us to pretend to have transcended the capitalism's exploitation trap. This is also a very old pattern – just a couple decades after the Mechanical Turk toured Europe, Thomas Jefferson returned from the continent with the dumbwaiter. Jefferson refined and installed these marvels, announcing to his dinner guests that they allowed him to replace his "servants" (that is, his slaves). Dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, of course – they just keep them out of sight:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

So much AI turns out to be low-waged people in a call center in the Global South pretending to be robots that Indian techies have a joke about it: "AI stands for 'absent Indian'":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

A reader wrote to me this week. They're a multi-decade veteran of Amazon who had a fascinating tale about the launch of Amazon Go, the "fully automated" Amazon retail outlets that let you wander around, pick up goods and walk out again, while AI-enabled cameras totted up the goods in your basket and charged your card for them.

According to this reader, the AI cameras didn't work any better than Tesla's full-self driving mode, and had to be backstopped by a minimum of three camera operators in an Indian call center, "so that there could be a quorum system for deciding on a customer's activity – three autopilots good, two autopilots bad."

Amazon got a ton of press from the launch of the Amazon Go stores. A lot of it was very favorable, of course: Mister Market is insatiably horny for firing human beings and replacing them with robots, so any announcement that you've got a human-replacing robot is a surefire way to make Line Go Up. But there was also plenty of critical press about this – pieces that took Amazon to task for replacing human beings with robots.

What was missing from the criticism? Articles that said that Amazon was probably lying about its robots, that it had replaced low-waged clerks in the USA with even-lower-waged camera-jockeys in India.

Which is a shame, because that criticism would have hit Amazon where it hurts, right there in the ole Line Go Up. Amazon's stock price boost off the back of the Amazon Go announcements represented the market's bet that Amazon would evert out of cyberspace and fill all of our physical retail corridors with monopolistic robot stores, moated with IP that prevented other retailers from similarly slashing their wage bills. That unbridgeable moat would guarantee Amazon generations of monopoly rents, which it would share with any shareholders who piled into the stock at that moment.

See the difference? Criticize Amazon for its devastatingly effective automation and you help Amazon sell stock to suckers, which makes Amazon executives richer. Criticize Amazon for lying about its automation, and you clobber the personal net worth of the executives who spun up this lie, because their portfolios are full of Amazon stock:

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Amazon Go didn't go. The hundreds of Amazon Go stores we were promised never materialized. There's an embarrassing rump of 25 of these things still around, which will doubtless be quietly shuttered in the years to come. But Amazon Go wasn't a failure. It allowed its architects to pocket massive capital gains on the way to building generational wealth and establishing a new permanent aristocracy of habitual bullshitters dressed up as high-tech wizards.

"Wizard" is the right word for it. The high-tech sector pretends to be science fiction, but it's usually fantasy. For a generation, America's largest tech firms peddled the dream of imminently establishing colonies on distant worlds or even traveling to other solar systems, something that is still so far in our future that it might well never come to pass:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

During the Space Age, we got the same kind of performative bullshit. On The Well David Gans mentioned hearing a promo on SiriusXM for a radio show with "the first AI co-host." To this, Craig L Maudlin replied, "Reminds me of fins on automobiles."

Yup, that's exactly it. An AI radio co-host is to artificial intelligence as a Cadillac Eldorado Biaritz tail-fin is to interstellar rocketry.

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

[dxckgrxsonx]

Just be Quiet

Pairing - Dick Grayson x (F) Reader

Words - 0.6k

Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Mean!Dick - Forced Quiet Sex - Kinda Public Sex - A little bit of Name Calling (Disgusting, Pathetic, Crybaby) - Crying - Swearing

Notes - Um hi. Let's ignore the fact I was supposed to post this last week. I drank a little too much wine, passed tf out, and then work kicked my whole ass. I simply do not vibe with being employed smh.

MASTERLIST

**

“Be quiet.” Dick snaps, his voice bordering on the lethal edge of an order and not a request. Your skin positively bristles when he shoves his hand over your mouth to muffle the desperate, involuntary noises escaping from between your chattering teeth and he growls, thoroughly fed up with your shit. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Your thighs tremble, trapped between Dick’s firm, unyielding body and the wall. He snaps his hips forwards, forcing the full length of him into your weeping cunt with one stroke and your eyes roll straight back into your skull, body shuddering through the stretch.

“Don’t you make a fuckin’ sound.” He demands when you inhale, words vibrating in your throat, chest aching with how much you want to moan and whimper. Forcing your thighs wider with his knee he drags his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your soaked pussy. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? I tell you not to make a sound and here you are, whining through my fingers like a brat.”

You didn't even notice you were moaning and keening and whimpering loud enough for him to hear–but you are–and it makes Dick ground out your name in a low, dangerous snarl.

It's a warning.

“I can’t fuck–I can’t help it!” You try, nearly in tears from the effort it takes to stay quiet for him. Your words are muffled against his palm and a particularly harsh thrust has you gasping his name, a long, drawn out whine chasing. “S’too good.”

Dick kisses the back of your neck then moves so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Yes you can. You’re just doing this on purpose to piss me off. Why won’t you be fucking quiet?!” Fucking into you at a rougher pace you can’t stop the desperate little noises from slipping through his fingers. “It’s almost like you want people to know I’m fucking you. Is that what it is? You want everyone to know you’re a desperate whore who likes being fucked where anyone could see you? You’re disgusting.”

Your body tries to flinch away from his punishing pace but Dick tuts disapprovingly and presses you even more firmly against the wall with his strong hips; forcing you to take every rough stroke and scathing comment from his smart mouth. He nudges your thighs apart again when you try to close them and your pussy throbs and creams against the base of his cock in desperation.

Dick scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth against your neck and you can feel the smirk pressing at his lips.

“I can feel you squeezin’ at me.” He says, sinking balls deep into your cunt and stopping just to feel you convulse around him. “You like being fucked by your Team Leader, huh? With the way you act, it’s no surprise you like this. What? You think I don’t notice. You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

Moaning into his hand you blink against the onslaught of tears and Dick feels them slide warm over the backs of his knuckles.

Your pussy is aching.

“Oh fuck. Are you crying right now?” He grunts, cock swelling and twitching inside you. “I can’t believe how sensitive you are.”

“Please!” You beg, sniffling and trying to stop yourself from crying. “Dick–plea–stop being so mean to me.”

“No.” He replies, pressing his hand over your mouth even harder so every word is barely audible. “We’re not stopping until you’re dripping with my come. And you better be fucking silent, do you hear me? My poor little crybaby. I want you to be a good girl for once and shut the fuck up because if you think I'm being mean to you now, you're in for a shock if you can't follow simple orders.”

**

The post that inspired this is -

[navybrat817]

Steve + 9. "Don't even think about getting out of the car."

Oh, Eva. 🫠

Direct Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve doesn't like that you ignored his direct order.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Arguing, slight angst, stubbornness, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another overprotective prompt ficlet. Thanks, Eva! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The night air was cool and refreshing as you rolled the window down, but it went back up before you could appreciate the breeze against your skin. You shot Steve a glare who didn't acknowledge you as he drove. You didn't like uncomfortable silence, but you didn't attempt to fill the time with small talk. Not since he decided to rip you a new one in front of the team an hour ago.

You just wanted to go home.

“You have nothing to say?” Steve asked, his voice low. “Must be killing you to go this long without talking.”

You fought the urge to kick the dashboard since the car didn't do anything to you and smacking him could cause an accident. “And it must be killing you that I didn't fall in line today like a perfect little soldier,” you said with a sardonic smile. “Or would you prefer I act like a doll?”

“You ignored my direct order,” he growled as he gripped the steering wheel. For a moment you thought he’d bend or rip it away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sneered before facing forward. “Jesus Christ, give it a rest. You berated me enough on the quinjet and I don't need to hear it again.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough for you to see the anger brewing. “Damn right I berated you because you never listen to me.”

The tension thickened. You didn't typically argue with Steve. You went against him once and now he was saying you never listened to him? Where the hell did he get off?

“Don’t you dare lecture me about not listening to you when you’re the one who never listens to anyone,” you argued, feeling a hint of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw. “And I made the right call. I stand by that.”

The mission was a success because of your decision.

“You don't make the calls. That isn't your job,” he snapped, the tires squealing as he made a rough turn. “You could've been hurt or worse. Don't you get that?! You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“But I wasn't hurt! And me being stubborn? Pot meet fucking kettle, Rogers!”

“Captain,” he said through his perfect teeth.

“Captain,” you scoffed, your blood boiling. “You are not my Captain right now. You're just some guy who wormed his way into driving me home after running his mouth.”

You shrieked when he slammed on the brakes, bracing yourself on the dash when he ran a hand through his blonde hair and bitterly chuckled. It was a foreign sound coming from him. One that made you shut your mouth. “Some guy? Now I’m just some guy?”

Concern flickered across your face. Yeah, you were mad, but you didn't have to push. “Steve. I mean, Captain, I-”

“I’m not just some guy and I’m not just your Captain,” he cut you off, stopping you when you reached for the door handle. “Don't even think about getting out of the car. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I stay? So you can snap at me some more?” You mumbled. “Would you treat Bucky or Sam or anyone else like this?”

It wasn't fair to try and make him feel bad. He was your leader for a reason and he gave you an order. You didn't follow it. He had every right to be pissed off. By all means he had the right to bench you, too.

But why was he taking it personally?

All the anger fell from Steve’s face as he leaned across the seat more. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened, too. “Why are you sorry?”

“For snapping the way I did,” he said with a shake of his head. “You just scared me today. I get scared every time you go into the field, but that was the first time you…”

“Didn’t listen,” you finished for him, your heart pounding when you realized just how close he was. If he leaned in any closer, his lips would be against yours.

“And you are right. I have a hard time listening to others myself,” he said, smiling when you snorted. “But I don't give you orders for you to act like a perfect soldier or doll. Just like I don't give Bucky or Sam or anyone else orders just to have things done my way. I do it to keep you as safe as possible. It would break my heart if something happened to you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes went wide. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” You asked, your stomach doing a funny flip.

He chuckled, the sound much warmer than before. “So, you do listen.”

“Most of the time,” you teased, staring into his eyes. You could see how much he cared. No wonder he took this mission to heart.

“Arguing aside, you did well,” he praised, which sent heat to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll forgive you for ignoring my orders if you let me walk you to your door.”

“And I'll forgive you for snapping at me in front of the team if you come inside and have a drink,” you countered.

You didn't expect him to move his mouth to your ear. “I’ll only come inside if you say ‘please’,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “And that's a direct order.”

Yes, sir. ❤️‍🔥 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[midnight-bay-if]

"If silence claims the waters of Midnight Bay, death has come to stay."

"Every day, I miss him, and every day, I’m scared that I’ll miss him less. That one day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t remember how his hair would stick up in odd angles in the morning or how black he liked his coffee. That the bedtime stories he would read me before bed no longer guide my morals nor parse their wisdom in his voice..."

If you ask me why I still seek revenge, this is what I'll say: I will not forget.

Because nothing could be more terrifying than the idea of time passing without my father's death having any justice or resolution, and years down the line, I’ll be sitting in this diner with you, but we won’t be talking about my dad at all anymore."

Come on. Let's kill the killer.

Demo: Out Now (26,000) words.

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone comes from a wealthy family with a long history of government service and civil partnerships. Simon/Simone is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, Simon/Simone find themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation with questionable goals.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Simon/Simone drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain was practically herded into the arms of a greater power, who guided them into the arms of Simon/Simone, who became their new leader.

When Simon/Simone tells them that one day, they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when a greater power, deciding their people had become too powerful,

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicating themselves to maintaining balance. Taj is ultimately led to Simon/Simone and becomes the final member of their specialised team. Showing great resistance at first, eventually, Taj learns to accept and respect Simon/Simone, so when their leader declares they are to travel to the backwater town of Albach Bay, well... Taj comes along. Though not without reluctance.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. During a terrible conflict, their great power was muzzled as punishment for their part in the war. They've been seeking the people responsible so they can regain the power they lost.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passer-by to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

Roleplay your private investigator how you want to. My intention is no 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rated 18+

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chronicles

Dive into the profiles of the members of Camp Seventeen!

Name: Choi Seungcheol (Coups, Cheol) 

Descent: Son of Zeus, King of Gods, God of Sky, Thunder and Lightning

Symbol: Thunderbolt 

Role: Camp Leader - Sets rules and assigns roles in camp to everyone. Responsible for overseeing team members and ensuring discipline on camp. 

Residence: White marbled mansion, surrounded by oak trees, located on higher ground than everyone else so he can keep an eye on camp.

Companion: Eagle called Zephyr who is often seen patrolling the skies to protect camp. Seungcheol has a special whistle call to make it land on his shoulder. 

Profession: Meteorologist - He has a very good understanding of the weather and can accurately predict changes. Although he does not enjoy his job as he despises working in spaces where he does not have control aka isn't the boss. On the orders of his father he’s also pursuing a degree in astronomy.

Fun facts: Seungcheol’s anger is quite destructive - surprise, surprise, it thunders when he’s mad. His hair was black when he was born but streaks of gold started to appear whenever he used his powers and now it is fully golden blonde. Seungcheol also has an insane appetite and is also always making sure everyone eats well.

Name: Yoon Jeonghan (Han, Angel Boy) 

Descent: Son of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, Warfare and Handicraft 

Symbol: Medusa’s head 

Role: Quest strategist - Studies warfare strategies of other camps and develops a plan of action for his team. Assigns roles in Quests to all members. 

Residence: A tree house nestled on top of an olive tree that surprisingly no one can seem to climb other than the man himself. No one on camp has seen the inside of his house though all have tried - it is believed to house the rare luxuries he collects without anyone’s knowledge.

Companion: Bratty owl called Nox that only comes out at night, god knows where it goes off to in the day. (Dino often has to go on his knees and beg it to help deliver letters) 

Profession: Lawyer - He originally wanted to be a teacher however his level of intelligence was too high for a kindergarten job. In fact, he’s so intelligent that he often has to downplay his smartness at work. The only reason he enjoys being a lawyer is because of the cunningness the profession requires. 

Fun facts: Being the son of a virgin goddess makes Jeonghan a rare demigod - there’s very few known children of Athena. He’s also the camp prankster and though he gets on everyone’s nerves with his jokes, all the members adore him. He’s incredibly scared of spiders and refuses to visit Australia for the same reason. 

Name: Hong Jisoo (Joshua, Joshie) 

Descent: Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Sex and Beauty

Symbol: White swan. 

Role: Camp manager - Responsible for all non training related operations on camp - meals, residences etc. Conflict resolving between members. 

Residence: A small cottage by the lake that was personally crafted by his mother's helpers hence it has all her favorite things in it - red roses, seashells, sea foam etc. To no one’s surprise, there are also mirrors everywhere in his house. 

Companion: Joshua once went to a bird shop to adopt a pet but came back with nearly every single dove, pigeon and sparrow because they would not stop screeching in his absence. Now they go everywhere with him - he’s a mini snow white.

Profession: Writer - Joshua writes romance novels often relying on real life experiences of his many affairs. His books are world famous under the pen name Mr.G (apparently short for gentleman) and they always have happy endings. 

Fun facts: When he’s not writing, Joshua loves to make his own accessories, especially with pearls. He also loves reading other’s writings - particularly fanfictions of his characters. He is also a very good singer, often playing the guitar during evening campfires. 

Name: Wen Junhui (Jun, Moon Junnie) 

Descent: Son of Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, Harvest and Seasons 

Symbol: Cornucopia 

Role: Camp Farmhand - Growing and harvesting crops needed for cooking. Cooks dinner for all members. (Breakfasts and lunches are each member’s personal responsibility, though Jun insists on packing lunch for members who go to work.) 

Residence: A small farmhouse in the middle of his fields at the foot of the hills. It’s got windmills and creeks and bales of hay - very picturesque 

Companion: A two feet long rough green snake called Fluffy. Unlike its name, it's skinny and clingy and is wrapped around Jun at all times. 

Profession: Acupuncturist - works in a small clinic at the edge of the city and is quite renowned for his skill. Although looking at how most of his patients are young women with barely significant health issues, maybe he’s more renowned for his looks. 

Fun facts: He's the one that most members from other camps have a crush on - he’s always having to run away from fawning girls during quest season. He loves adventure sports and often goes off on his own to do something outdoors. Hates the city, never visits it unless he has no choice.

Name: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi, Tiger) 

Descent: Son of Dionysus, God of Wine, Festivity and Theatre 

Symbol: Pinecone 

Role: Camp PR - Establishing social connections with other camps. Entertaining guests who come to camp to form treaties. 

Residence: Luxurious purple and green mansion which looks a little rustic from the outside with all the grapevines and ivy but on the inside it's the very epitome of lavishness. 

Companion: Horang the leopard tiger - He had requested his father to gift him a tiger but his drunk old man sent him a leopard and Hoshi refuses to accept it. He often dresses it in a tiger outfit so it's safe to say Horang is actually quite sick of him.

Profession: Club owner - Hoshi owns a small underground club which has an even more underground secret room only for demigods. There he *cough* illegally *cough* sells his own brewed alcohol which is a big hit and makes him big money. 

Fun facts: Makes and sells alcohol but does not drink as he cannot handle it at all. During his free time, he either studies the art of wine making or takes dance workshops in the city because he’s passionate about it. The loudest possible introvert you will meet with the largest possible social circle - literally no one hates him (except Horang) 

Name: Jeon Wonwoo (Wonu, Jeon-sshi) 

Descent: Son of Hades, King of the Underworld, God of Death and Riches

Symbol: Black Ram

Role: Camp patrolling - Patrols and secures camp borders at night. Not exactly his job but somehow always ends up doing the dishes. 

Residence: He lives in a cave underground which is quite high tech and equipped, like the bat cave. He’s got all sorts of computers and screens set up everywhere for the ease of his job. 

Companion: None. Wonwoo’s father gifted him Cerberus, a 3 headed puppy but Wonwoo gave it to Mingyu after he lost his own pet in a Quest. Natalie for some reason, likes to follow around Wonwoo like moth to a light. 

Profession: No one knows really. It’s some big secret government job that he rarely goes to the headquarters for - mostly works from the comfort of his own home at whatever time is convenient for him. 

Fun facts: He’s extremely rich - his job makes him a lot of money but also his father keeps sending him a lot of gifts, mainly gemstones. Children of Hades tend to be loners and do not join camps but Seungcheol fought tooth and nail to get Wonwoo into Camp Seventeen. Wonwoo loves to bike and often takes his motorcycle, Night Fury, to the countryside for long drives. 

Name: Lee Jihoon (Woozi, Uji) 

Descent: Son of Apollo, God of Sun, Music and Healing 

Symbol: Lyre 

Role: Camp Patrolling - Patrolling and securing camp at daytime. Also responsible for the healing wounded members 

Residence: Woozi and Vernon own neighboring twin houses - Woozi’s is white and gold and is filled with his instruments and music equipment

Companion: A pure white cow which is named….Cow. It was a reward that he got in one of the Quests years ago and its milk has medicinal properties and helps him to heal members. Cow also has a little calf called Daisy which is the common camp pet - it’s fond of all the members and is very playful with everyone, especially Vernon’s hounds. 

Profession: Music producer - He’s very good with sound and can play most musical instruments. Sometimes DJs at Hoshi’s club when Hyungwon, Jeonghan’s little crush, isn’t available

Fun facts: Woozi works from his own home studio so he barely ever leaves camp. He also doesn’t attend many social events unless really necessary. Spends longer hours than most members in physical and combat training - members suspect he considers himself a little weak since he’s the shortest and tend to hype him up at every given chance. He has the most beautiful long golden locks that he loves to style in various buns and braids.

Name: Xu Minghao (Myungho, Hao) 

Descent: Son of Ares, God of War, Battle-lust and Courage

Symbol: War helmet 

Role: Camp trainer - In charge of training members of combat. Assigns weapons and maintains the ones stored in reserves.

Residence: Brick House at the edge of the training field with his personal gym and simulation combat room.

Companion: None. Minghao does not feel any emotional attachment towards any living thing. 

Profession: Tattoo artist - Minghao always liked things that were rebellious in nature and he’s a very talented artist so he decided to combine the two as his profession. 

Fun facts: He’s one of the best warriors the world has ever seen - he's trained in many camps before he decided Camp Seventeen was it for him. The camp lost two Quest seasons because Minghao had to fight for the Amazonions as a favour to his dad but now he has the eternal support of the entire tribe. Although his father is the very symbol of rage and fury, Minghao tends to be quite calm and meditates often to keep inner peace.

Name: Kim Mingyu (Gyu, Big Boy) 

Descent: Son of Hepheastus, God of Fire, Forges and Blacksmiths

Symbol: Smith's hammer 

Role: Weapons master - he makes all the weapons and equipment for the members. Handles all engineering related matters on camp as well. 

Residence: Has the only two storey house on camp - ground floor is his personal forgery and above it is his residence which the most automated, high tech place ever - seriously, he’s made a machine for everything 

Companion: He used to have a baby donkey but lost it in a quest. (last it was seen was when Hoshi took a photo sitting on it) then Wonwoo gave him his dog because he was lonely. 

Profession: Firefighter - being the son of the god of fire helps with that. Plus Mingyu is always looking to help people in need so it was a no brainer for him when the time came for him to pick a job. However now he’s considering leaving the job to become a chef

Fun facts: Mingyu is the tallest seventeen member so it's always hard to get gear for him - it's always too small or too tight. Mingyu isn’t particularly a fan of biking but knows it's one way he can spend time with Wonwoo so he built his own bike, FireBolt. Since the terrain on camp is too uneven for a bike, he built it to be able to transform into a mechanical bull at the click of a button allowing him to ride it around everywhere no camp, inducing mini earthquakes as it runs. 

Name: Lee Seokmin (Dk, Min) 

Descent: Son of Poseidon, God of Seas, Storms and Horses 

Symbol: Water waves 

Residence: He has a boat house in the middle of the lake which the members love to use as a party yacht much to his dismay. 

Companion: Pegasus, a big stallion actually meant for battle but in reality it is a scaredy cat. Often runs the opposite side of combat regardless of Seokmin’s instructions 

Role: Camp trainer - in charge of morning warm ups and drills. Helps members with general fitness and health. 

Profession: Surf instructor - he spends pretty much all his time in and around sea because that is where he feels strongest. Often helps capsized boats and trapped animals though he’s not supposed to interfere and falls in trouble because of his good nature 

Fun facts: Seokmin was deadly scared of water as a child and would not even go near it. His father personally trained him and prepared his son for demigod life. He is one of the only members who has lived in Olympus for a while in his younger days. He's incredibly sweet and considerate though most of Poseidon’s many many sons tend to be arrogant and rude

Name: Boo Seungkwan (Uri boo, Kwan) 

Descent: Son of Hera, Queen of Gods, Goddess of Marriage, Family and Women

Symbol: Diadem 

Role: Camp PR - Like Hoshi, he too establishes alliances and treaties with camps. Often the messenger to Olympus because his mother is queen - loved by all the Gods (except Zeus) 

Residence: A Greek style house that Hera had instructed him to construct right in the middle of camp because she wants him to be the center of everything. Seungkwan dislikes it and often bunks with Vernon who’s the only one who hasn’t shooed him away when he approached. 

Companion: Patricia, the peacock that his mother gifted him but it's a bit too high end and spoilt to be in a place like camp. 

Profession: Wedding planner - Seungkwan loved weddings since he was a child mostly because he always saw his mother at one when she came to bless the unions. He decided to start his own company after nitpicking about how everyone was getting them all wrong and wanting to teach the world the right ways again. 

Fun facts: If it's not already obvious, he’s a mummy’s boy. Though Hera is the very symbol of faithfulness, the growing number of her husband’s children prompted her to have children of her own, Seungkwan being the one she’s most fond of. He’s the latest addition to camp and within days of arriving, he had already boosted Seventeen’s image beyond their expectations. He runs a secret instagram page for Camp Seventeen who’s followers are mostly girls from other camps, because the pictures are mostly the members shirtless.

Name: Chwe Hansol (Vernon, Bonon) 

Descent: Son of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, Wilderness, and Chastity 

Symbol: Wolf  

Role: Camp patrolling - along with Woozi, he too patrols the camp at daytime. Hunts wild animals which tend to find their way into the camps.

Residence: Twin houses with Woozi, his is silver and white and has a large enclosure for his hounds. His house shines according to the cycle of the moon - brightest at full moon, almost invisible at no moon. 

Companion: Fifteen hounds that are descendants of the hounds that his mother hunts. He can’t remember fifteen names so he’s named as the numbers - One, Two, Three, so on.  

Profession: Video gamer developer - Vernon had a lot of experience as a child when he was caste as Tv show host. Though, as much as he’s used to the entertainment industry, he likes to steer clear from it hence venturing into game development 

Fun facts: Vernon is also the child of a virgin goddess and hence also a rare demigod. He’s famous for his chiseled features and is often babied by the Hunters of Artemis. Demigods aren’t allowed to meet their mortal families after initiating into camps but Vernon always sneaks out to meet his sister Sofia who he is very close to and fond of.

Name: Lee Chan (Dino, Maknae) 

Descent: Son of Hermes, Messenger of Gods, God of Trade, Luck and Travel 

Symbol: Caduceous 

Role: Camp messenger - Much like his father, Dino plays the active role of camp transport-in-charge. Any and all deliveries are his job - even when Mingyu needs a ton of iron to weld. 

Residence: A large camp tent at the entrance of camp - When he first came he claimed he wanted it to get ‘camp feels’ now he hates it but Cheol won’t let him change it. 

Companion: A tortoise named Speedy which is as slow as he is fast. Always has to run, then wait for it to catch up, then run again and wait again and so on. 

Profession: Cab driver - doesn’t particularly enjoy the job but it makes things easier for him. He says he’s saving up to go to med school one day but Woozi swears Dino said chest muscles are called pecs because they are short for spectacular so yeah, that’s probably not happening

Fun facts: He’s a kleptomaniac - he’s always stealing stuff from the members, his house is full of such artifacts. He’s also the most in touch with his demigod half siblings - the sons of Hermes are a tight bunch. Being the youngest in camp means he’s most teased but also most adored - camp messenger isn’t even a legit job, they just give him as little work as possible. 

Name: [                             ]

Descent: Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth, Home and Hospitality 

Symbol: Fire

Role: Not yet assigned 

Residence: Not yet built 

Companion: Natalie the piglet who she found stuck in the trashcan one day and decided to raise. Natalie is a fledgling meaning its a creature of Olympus and does not follow time in the mortal world

Profession: Studying her last year of Architecture

Fun facts: She's the exact opposite of everything her mother is known for - very confrontational, not hospitable and not homely at all. Most Demigods are discovered when they are 16 but she made it to 25 undetected, no one knows how. Mingyu was the one who found her because of an accident that landed her in a lawsuit - Olympus assigned Camp Seventeen to her under the suggestion of the oracle.

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[dyns33]

The Best Friend

We will have to wait for 2 years to see Homelander again so here's a little new series about him

After realizing that it wasn't really a good idea to raise a child in a laboratory by subjecting him to several tests that were more like torture than anything else, Doctor Vogelbaum decided to start the 'friend' project.

Arranging financially with orphanages, he brought in children whose absence no one would notice, in order to try to develop young John's social skills.

Of course, it wasn't really a success. Most of the children never made it out of the room alive, the others were saved at the last moment but in a catastrophic state, and the lucky ones managed to flee crying, only because John found them too annoying to chase after them.

Then, there was subject 8.

The youngest had no names, and since they were of no importance to anyone, including the doctors, they hadn't bothered to name them. So they introduced Subject 8 to John without much hope.

The little girl was placed on a chair in front of him. With big curious eyes, she watched him while chewing on a finger, but unlike most of her predecessors, she didn't seem afraid.

"Where's mommy ?" she asked timidly to the boy in front of her.

"I don't know. I don't have a mommy."

"Oh. They say mommy's dead, but I want mommy."

"… Your mom's dead ?"

Most of the children hadn't tried to talk to John, too frightened by the situation, then by his behavior. The others had made too much noise, had been rude, or had talked about subjects that didn't interest him.

Family was a complicated subject for the future Homelander. Abandonment too, the feeling of loneliness.

For the first time since the beginning of the 'friend' project, he looked at another human being with what seemed like empathy. Slowly, with a caution that no one suspected, he took the little girl in his arms.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you now."

"Okay."

He called her Y/N. He had heard that name in one of the movies they showed to teach him how to become a superhero and he had found it pretty. According to him, it suited subject 8 perfectly, his best friend forever.

Like the children they were, they promised each other to be faithful and to stay together no matter what. Even if they weren't always together.

John didn't like having his Y/N taken from him. The first time a nurse had come to get the little girl to take her back to her cell, he had had a huge tamtrun, killing the poor woman.

Too young or having immediately had blind trust in the one who had said he would take care of her, Y/N had not been afraid, clinging to him while crying because she did not want to leave him.

Doctor Vogelbaum had spent several hours discussing with the boy so that he would agree to let her go, on the condition that he was assured that he would see her again the next day, and the following days after.

This incident scared the team, who wondered if they should not stop this project immediately, or if it was too late. But their leader was certain that it was a good thing, a new way of holding John.

If he behaved well, he would be able to see Y/N. If not, he would be punished.

This lasted for several years, until John's adolescence, the beginning of more intense exercises, and the choice of his future.

They should have known that this would happen. Raising a supe in a cage was one thing, but a little girl without powers, that couldn't last forever.

Doctor Hobbes refused to tell John the news. He had a hard time getting the other doctors to accept it.

"She was fine last night !"

"What can we do ?! Hobbes found her dead this morning, he tried to revive her, but nothing worked !"

"And the V?"

"I panicked…" sighed Doctor Hobbes. "I followed the protocol without thinking."

The protocol was simple. No proof, no problem, hence the importance of having a very powerful oven.

That day, Doctor Vogelbaum thought he was going to be killed by his creature for the first time in his life. He had never seen him in such a rage.

It was clear that John really loved Y/N. In a way, it was a success, proof that this thing was capable of feelings after all, even if he remained just as capable of the worst.

It took a lot of time and patience to heal this wound. No one was stupid enough to try to offer him a new friend. Nothing could have replaced Subject 8.

Homelander tried not to think about all this too much. In his dreams, the moments with Y/N ​​were the only happy ones, until they turned into a nightmare and he saw her dead in his arms.

The first person he had sworn to protect and hadn't saved. What a superhero.

After the revelation about Becca Butcher and his son, he asked Vogelbaum if he didn't have anything else to tell him. Another secret. But no, nothing. If the old man could, he would have kept Y/N alive as long as possible, just to have a chance to control him.

What Homelander had forgotten was that if people lied to him, they also lied to each other.

It took another four years, four years of pain, disappointment, loneliness, for him to have fun searching Barbara's office after visiting the whole new team of doctors.

Among all the files, projects, photos, he recognized Doctor Hobbes. He had retired a little before Vogelbaum, and in the photo, he could be seen next to a young girl, holding her by the shoulder as if she were his daughter.

Except she wasn't his daughter. She wasn't his at all.

"John ?" was the first thing Y/N said, smiling when she opened the door to find Homelander.

She didn't look surprised. Nor scared. She invited him in with a certain cheerfulness that no one displayed in Homelander's presence, especially knowing what he was truly capable of.

And Y/N knew it well, she had grown up with him.

"I'm so glad to see you ! Doctor Hobbes wouldn't let me contact you, he said it wouldn't be good for your career. He's dead, but I thought maybe he was right. I didn't want to bother you, you must be so busy. I didn't think you'd want to see me again."

"… They told me you were dead."

"Yes, I know." she sighed sadly, though she kept her smile. "Doctor Hobbes was selfish. I reminded him of his daughter, whom he lost in a car accident. He saw the opportunity to take me away, saying it would be better for me to be free. Except he kept me here, a new cage. At least he was kind enough to make me fake papers and adopt me before he died…"

"You wanted to leave."

"No ! No, I wanted to stay with you… He said you were going to become important, do important things, and that I would be a burden. It's true after all, like you say, I'm one of the mud people…"

"You're not a mud person !"

He had yelled like he had yelled at everyone for a long time now, but John immediately felt bad. He had never yelled at Y/N, never. He had promised not to hurt her.

It was surprising to see that she hadn't jumped, and that she still wasn't afraid. On the contrary, she only looked sorry for him, coming to sit next to him, putting a hand on his.

"I'm sorry, John. I should have tried to contact you. You would have told me if you didn't want me."

"I will always want you." he sobbed with shame. "You were everything to me ! My Y/N. The only good thing in this damn lab, the only one who cared about me, who comforted me when I came back from the bad room. I told myself… I told myself that I shouldn't get attached to humans after you. Because they're so fragile, so easy to lose."

"I'm here. I'm here as long as you want me."

She was sincere, her heart proved it. Her eyes were looking at him exactly as they had before she disappeared from his life.

With anyone else, John would have doubted. After everything he'd been through, the voices in his head could have told him to test the limits, to break her neck, to make fun of her.

But all he heard was 'Y/N is here ! She's back, she's alive ! Our Y/N ! Do better this time, protect her, don't lose her, tiger !'

When he took her in his arms and she tenderly returned his embrace, he felt what he was missing with Madelyn, with Stormfront, with Becca, with all the people around him.

He finally felt complete. Happy.

And for once, Homelander was going to do everything not to ruin everything.

[oleander-nin]

TMNT 2012 Yandere Headcanons

A/N, not important: Feel free to add or disagree with any of these. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Dark themes, yandere behaviors, drugging(Donnie's), stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior, non-consensual touching(Non-NSFW ie: hugging), kidnapping, abuse, delusional behavior.

Words: 2249

Summary: My take on TMNT 2012 as yanderes.

Leonardo:

He’s a hero, he wants to be your savior. Leo wants you to be safe by his side and to feel like you can depend on him for everything, even if he knows he’s taking it a bit too far. He’s willing to do anything for you, as long as you stay with him and love him.

Despite being aware of his faults, he’s still possessive and stubborn. Leo’s priority is your safety, which can cause problems in the small time before he kidnaps you. He’s constantly checking up on you, bringing you gifts, and trying to convince you to come stay at the lair on your own.

Is the first to kidnap you. Being the leader, he can’t drop his team to go get you at a moment's notice like his brothers can. He wants you safe, and in his mind, the safest place for you is the lair, or by his side. It’ll take a week from the first time you turn down staying with them for him to move you in forcefully.

Leo’s strict with his rules. He likes order and discipline, which makes him have a firmer hand when it comes to following his rules. While he tries to remain patient with you, he’s quick to punish any misbehavior to kill it out as quick as he can.

His punishment’s mostly include being tied or loss of food/entertainment instead of harsher ones like having your bones broken. He doesn’t want to hurt you badly unless he needs to. He sees you as something he was destined to care for, so if he feels the need to hurt you, you likely really outraged him(although if he hurts you on accident and feels you deserved it, he won’t apologize much).

When mad, he rarely goes into a fit or has an outburst. He’ll stew for a bit and leave you locked in the room before returning later to deal out whatever punishment he came up with in the time gone.

Feels slightly bad if you cry during a punishment, even if he knows it’s one that doesn’t hurt much. It doesn’t get him to lessen or cut the punishment short however. He’ll just pay more attention to you once it’s over to ‘make up for it’.

He’ll drop little judgements about your friends and family as he’s near you, trying to sow discourse so you’re more likely to be near him. He’s constantly vying for your attention, so separating you from your loved ones makes it much easier.

He likes to do things for you alone. If you escape, he won’t tell his family and will just go off to find you by himself. He also likes to keep you in his room or by his side at all times. He likes having you to himself, his own little darling to take care of.

He wants to make you proud of him and to enjoy being by his side, so he’ll shower you in little gifts or trinkets as a way to buy your affection.

He’s more quiet, so he likes to force you to be next to him instead of talking. He finds you relaxing and is comforted by your presence, even if you despise him. He’ll often pick you up and bring you to watch his shows as a way to hang out, holding you close and not letting you leave.

He’s very controlling and tends to nitpick everything you do, loudly telling you’re doing something wrong if he notices it. He thinks his way is the best way, and will shut down any arguments you have about your treatment or captivity. You’re his, and he knows best.

Donatello:

He’s the last to jump to kidnapping, mostly because he wants everything to be perfect for you before he does. He pines hard, constantly trying to get your attention and keep it. He’ll make so many plans surrounding you, it’s insane. He sets up cameras around and in your apartment to make sure he’ll always have an eye on you in case something happens to you. You’re his world, and he has to have you. Everything about you is perfect in his eyes. He just wants to bring you home with him and preserve that perfectivity forever.

He watches you for months, and will usually have a small square in the corner of his laptop that’s a camera of you whenever he’s working. He catalogs everything about you, admiring your every move.

He’ll go off on his own to visit you a lot, trying to impress you with his ninjitsu or smarts. He gets upset when you blow him off, his mood instantly turning sour and he tries to convince you to stay with him or refuses to leave. He’s overbearing and puts down your friends, making snarky remarks about whomever is taking up your time. Whenever he finally does leave, he makes a note of the friend and tries to think of ways to get rid of their part in your life.

Once you’re kidnapped, he keeps you drugged for a while, not risking the expected erratic behavior. He doesn’t want you to have any chances to try anything drastic. He’ll research everything about the drug he’s giving you, taking note of all possible side effects and making sure you have no allergies to the medication. He doesn’t want you to suffer while under his care, but the only way he knows how to protect you when you’re in such a delicate state is by keeping you doped up and oblivious.

When he starts to wean you off the pills, he can get annoyed with your attitude fairly quickly. He wants instant gratification, and gets frustrated knowing you’re not in love with him like he is you. He’ll put rules in place and snap at you when you mess up. He takes his punishments slowly, laying out all the consequences for each action when you first get there. He plans to adhere to them, not wanting to screw up his own rules or bend any for you when he knows you can be perfect.

Donnie can easily start to steam if you push his buttons, whether by constantly arguing or by fighting something he deems necessary for you. He’ll yell at you and throw things around, but he won’t hurt you in these moments if he can help it. He’ll usually just steam off after tying you up or drugging you silly, not wanting to deal with you when you’re being ‘pushy’.

He’s not the neediest when it comes to affection, usually only touching you to try and comfort you instead of himself. However, when he gets sleepy or just finished a big project he’s proud of, he’ll pull you close and force you to sit with him for a while. Sometimes he’ll have you sit in his lap while he’s working on something non-dangerous just to bond, but he’s usually too focused to want you so near in those moments.

Raphael:

He uses you like a drug, in a sense. Raph’s known for his bad temper and explosive personality, but before he had you, he took it out on petty thieves and Kraang. But once he found you, he realized he felt calmer just by being near you. He always wants to be by your side, milking off your personality in all the worst ways. Once he realizes you’re a fix to his temper, he’ll kidnap you.

You’re like his own precious gemstone, a one in a million find. He truly believes you’re his soulmate and you’re both meant for each other, and will get into a huge argument with you if you try to disagree.

Bulldozes over everything you say, and is really pushy when he wants to be near you. While his temper is more quelled near you, it’s not too hard to ignite it again, and denying him his ‘rightful time with you’ is a really quick way to enrage him. He’s more likely to go after your friends if you cite plans with them than to fight with you, but he’ll still be sour for a while afterwards.

Raph hates knowing how exposed you are in the world. You, the one thing able to calm him down, could be hurt at any moment by anything in the world. It boils his blood to know you might be in danger, and he acts like a protective wall when near you. He makes himself your own personal bodyguard, not even backing down when it starts to get suffocating. If he’s on a mission with his brothers and suspects you’re upset or hurt, he’ll drop everything to come to your side. He will absolutely go ballistic if he finds anyone hurt you.

Even if you’re usually able to keep him more mellow, his anger can quickly flare up when you start to act up. Whether it's refusing to hang out with him or fighting him after he kidnaps you, he’s quick to try and correct your behavior with threats and intimidation. He’ll accidentally elevate to more physical violence on accident, his anger taking over when you refuse to listen to his reason. 

His quick fuse can get you hurt, and he’ll just try and justify it with a quick apology and the excuse that you weren’t able to calm him down. He blames it on you every time, citing your own failures when it comes to his anger.

He’s almost always touching you when he’s near you. A hand on your shoulder or waist, or tight around your wrist, he’s always holding on. He likes the security you give him, and you tend to just make him more tender in the first place. He likes running his hands through your hair or just slumping over you and pinning you down loosely with his weight. He gets huffy if you try to get away, tightening his grip and holding you firm.

If you try to escape and fail, he’ll rub it in your face. He’ll brag about how good he is at keeping you safe after he brings you back and punishes you however he sees fit for the transgression. He wants you to feel weak so you won’t try again.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is manipulative to a fault. With his big eyes and unassuming nature, he’ll just slowly pretend everything is fine as he goes on. He uses the fact he’s never had many human friends to his advantage, weaponizing his supposed ignorance to make you feel guilty for pushing him away when he gets too much.

He’s quick to fall into his own head when he’s with you, just clingy bliss as he fully believes you’re just as infatuated with him as he is. He ignores most of your protests or brushes them off, making small jokes about the situation instead of listening.

Most patient of his brothers for most things, but will get upset if you don't listen to him. He’s a hypocrite in this sense, and always demands your full attention. He wants to be heard by you, and gets upset if you push back the way he does to you. He’ll start to whine before getting angry and storming off, leaving you alone for hours or days depending on his mood.

Is able to predict almost everything you do despite being completely unpredictable himself. He tries to convince his uncanny way of knowing what you’re doing or planning as a sign you’re both meant for each other.

Is constantly on you, whether he’s draped in your lap or or over your shoulder, or just fully laying on you. He finds you comfortable and gets upset when you try to push him away. He loves you so much, can’t you just let him hold you for a while?

Mikey’s also the most likely to have you out of his room, letting you follow him around the entire time he’s home with you. If he’s training in the dojo, he’ll make you sit in there so you can watch him. He wants to be praised and loved by you, so by showing off while he spars his brothers or practices his nunchaku, he feels it gives you more opportunities to compliment him.

Showers you in compliments and praise, to the point where it’s more than annoying. Every couple of minutes he’s loudly exclaiming how much he loves you, not letting you get a word in and trampling over any protests you may have.

He’ll likely hurt you in an accident, usually right before he storms off after you make him mad. He doesn’t use as many physical punishments for the sole reason he doesn’t want to be near you when he’s upset with you, but he may throw you off him before he leaves. Mikey will ignore the injuries he gives you, usually pointing out new bruises on your skin and being surprised he caused them. His main way to ‘fix’ it is by jokingly apologizing and kissing them and with a smile on his face, refusing to acknowledge any wrongdoing. He pretends the small gesture blows everything over, and gets upset when you try to push back still.

Often ignores his brothers for you. He’ll sneak away and just disappear with you for hours, only to be in his room trapping you with him as he avoids responsibility. He has you now, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re the only part of New York that would need to be saved.

[xo-cod]

would you write something about casual intimacy with simon please??🥹🫠

i'm in love with casual intimacy :") hope you enjoy babe <33 i couldn't pick one so i did a bunch but lmk if you'd like a specific scenario 🤍

rushed/ooc as usual.

affection and attention had been something the masked soldier had struggled with for years. he naturally had been closed off and reserved at the start, he didn't care much for intimacy having never truly finding it in his life. but when you entered his life, it'd all changed him completely

simon riley who disliked being caught in hugs and being squeezed, who grew to become incredibly uncomfortable and awkward around hugs and physical touch now came home from a long and hard day of work to actively seek you out and just collapse onto you in a heap, cuddling you close to his chest falling asleep on you. feeling as safe as ever between your arms

simon riley who was an incredibly observant man, who was known on picking up on the small habits others around him did even if they weren't aware of it casually and silently handing you glasses of water or food throughout the day because he knows you might tend to forget or you didn't have a good habit of remembering when to do so.

simon riley who had an intelligent yet busy mind, filled to the brim of placements on how to take down the target as efficiently as possible and how better to inflict the worst torture on his enemy carried space to memorise your coffee/tea order, making sure it was just the right temperature for you to drink and the correct amount of sweetener (or none) so you didn't have to top up

simon riley who everytime you both spoke couldn't help but fidget slightly with you purely out of love. who noticed everytime a strand had been out of place and delicately brushing it back as you spoke to him, continuing to listen intently but making sure your hair remained as perfect as ever

simon riley who was a natural born leader and protector, who lead his team along with price through countless battles and ensuring every last of his men came back to safety now couldn't stop protecting you no matter what. holding your hand securely with his fingers toying with yours or a gentle hand on the small of your back guiding you through the crowd of the streets, keeping you safe and close by at all times

simon riley who didn't laugh much through his youth or a fair share of his adulthood, never being able to find that connection and keeping to himself now gently nudged your calf with his foot under the table everytime soap and gaz did something stupid knowing it was funny but wouldn't give them the ego boost so he kept it to you solely. or his linking his foot with yours from the opposite side even if it was unknowingly because his body craved your warmth, some part of him having to touch you no matter what

or simon riley who was incredibly strong and who scoffed at the sight of couples, who thought he didn't need someone else now enjoyed resting his head gently on your lap whenever he had the chance. his fingers laced with yours as he brought the back of your palm for a soft kiss, still not used to the fact that you were his and he was yours.

simon riley loved different than most, initially he had been too worried to even reciprocate any feelings because he was damaged. some parts of his past couldn't be healed and he swore up and down he could never do to uou what his father did to his mother. some days were easy and others were hard, some days he sought out your touch other days he needed to be alone for a while to decompress.

but even in those silent moments, there was love.

he learnt that perhaps love itself didn't have to be made of grand gestures or explosive displays. it didn't have to be chaotic and mind numbing, it didn't have to be so terrifying and confusing. you were the anchor keeping him steady and grounded

love was made up of the little things and simon was so full of them, he might've not been the most romantic person in the whole world but he was always there and he cared for you in ways that couldn't fully explain himself. it took months of him adjusting around you, it took time to fully trust and let you in, to break down the walls that guarded his heart so fiercely but your life had intertwined so deeply with his, his heart was yours simply all along.

he thanked his lucky stars everyday when it came to you because he didn't have to pretend or make a charade, this love came easy. your love came easy and it wasn't for a price it wasn't something you snatched and dangled in front of him only to watch him fall and break. you kept him steady and in return, he cherished you well.

you truly were the other half to his soul <3

[silverwhittlingknife]

snippet

“Nobody is going to die here,” Dick says, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel.

If this were the Titans, he’d probably get some acknowledgement.  Titans together.  A clap on the shoulder.  Something.  But it’s not the Titans, so instead Cass Cain flicks a glance at him and then goes back to scowling at the wall, and Jason says, “Would you fucking quit it with the inspirational speeches, leader-boy?” and Tim says, “I think we should prioritize getting Dick out,” as if Dick isn’t even here.

“I’m fine,” Dick says.  Because he is. Mostly.  It’s not like it’s exactly fun to get whipped and then tied to an ominous black altar in a room with no obvious doors after successfully talking a cult into deciding you’re the optimum sacrifice of their four captives.  But it’s certainly better than the alternative scenario in which the Dark Leader Whatsisface had listened to Tim’s pitch.

“Weakness in the wall,” Cass says.  “…Here.”

“Yeah, weak walls would be great, if we had C4,” Jason says.  “Except for the part where we don’t have C4, because somebody took my stash and my helmet.  Some fucking insufferable team of fucking idiots who like to mind everybody else’s business—”

“Kick, maybe,” Cass says to Tim, who’s still trying to pick the lock on one of Dick’s manacles.

Tim frowns.  “I don’t think even you can kick a wall hard enough to—”

“Not… the wall.  Kick him,” Cass says, nodding at Jason.

“Oh fuck you very much,” Jason says, with more heat than Dick expects.  Jason’s edgy, beneath all the bluffing, and it’s hard to tell why, because although the situation admittedly isn’t great the countdown timer still has half an hour to go before the cult starts punching whatever buttons outside the room that will set Dick on fire—or get him eaten by a dragon, it hadn’t been very clear through the chanting.

Anyway.  They have time, even if Cass’s shoulders are tense and Tim’s face is strained and Dick’s back is killing him—they strapped him with his back down after the beating, and he’s trying not to think about the likelihood of blood stains on this altar thing—and the sweat from the heat is getting in his eyes.

A hand.  Tim’s wiped the sweat away, which is both a comfort and kind of humiliating.  Tim’s lips are pinched—he’s furious at Dick, it’s obvious, only not acting on it because they’re in front of Jason and Tim, at least, understands the importance of presenting a united front.  So it’ll be a fight, once they get out, but Dick’s not sorry.  If he’s totally honest, he’s a little angry himself.  Trust me, Tim had muttered, when they all first got grabbed, and then he’d raised his voice and asked to speak privately to the leader, and Dick only realized too late what he’d been after, when the cultists came back and explained how Red Robin was going to be their sacrifice to the dragon-god and everyone else could live and watch in order to marvel at their lord’s demonic glory or whatever.

“Cass, listen,” Tim says.  "I think if you help me with the manacles—”

“No,” Cass says.  Tim’s been trying to get her to come back to the altar to mess with Dick’s bindings; Cass has been ignoring him.  A splinter in an otherwise seamless partnership.

"If you put pressure on the other side while I pick the lock," Tim says.

"No," Cass snaps. Cass doesn’t believe in united fronts, Jason or no Jason—Dick should know, she once threw him into a wall—but Dick doesn’t think she’s actually mad at Tim, just impatient.  “Manacles broken, not broken… doesn’t matter. No good if we’re still here.  Need to get out.  Then Nightwing.”

“I vote we leave him here, actually,” Jason says.  

“Jason, shut up,” Tim says.

“What, is this suddenly not a democracy? Do I not have the right to an opinion? Are you against voting, Replacement?”

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#1)

Preventative Measures

so like. this is a thing. been toying with this little guy in my head for a few weeks and like, almost nothing is concrete but I'm hoping I'll turn it into a series.

content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, just like a LOT of manipulation, collars/collaring, referenced electrocution, low self esteem, subtle threats, guilt trips

I've never done this before, let me know if I missed something!!

masterlist | next

----------

Villain has finally been given a chance. A chance to prove he's more than what the whole city has always thought of him, more than what his father raised him to be. He wanted to do good in the world. The heroes were finally giving him a chance to be more than they've always thought of him. 

...or so he thought.

He gulps as he stares at the shock collar in Team Leaders hands. It's a small thing, sleek and unassuming. But he knows exactly what it is because Team Leader had shown him how it worked.  The man is currently speaking to him nonchalantly. Villain should really be listening to the hero that holds the key to a better life. But that collar... shakes Villain's faith in Team Leader. Just a little.

"Villain," the man says shortly. Impatiently. Shit.

Villain jumped to attention, nerves only growing worse. 

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just-just a little confused. I thought... I was a part of the team..." He tries to keep the heartbreak out of his voice. He doesn't quite succeed. 

"If you'd listen..." the Team Leader sighed deeply. Villain was going to throw up. 

Team Leader began again, speaking slowly as if to a child. Or a stupid person. Villain thinks he fell into the latter column. "I was just saying this will help you better mesh with the team. I'm sure you've noticed people are a little nervous with you around."

Hostile. Villain would use the word hostile.

"Given your past, everything you've done," the man drawled. Villain can't hold back a wince. 

"So, to ease their worries, and allow them to see how great I know you can be, this is just a little precautionary measure. A bit of a show."

Ryan swallowed thickly.

"So... It wouldn't be used..."

He tries to keep himself from thinking about electricity burning the sensitive skin of his throat as it shoots down his spine and into his skull to paralyze him. He's familiar enough with the feeling; he doesn't need to imagine it.

Team Leader gives him an easy smile. "As long as there are no issues, of course not."

"...Issues?"

"Oh, stuff that'll never happen. Just breaking any of the rules."

Villain arched his brow, slightly dubious. "Rules.”

"Yeah, like, follow orders, don't fraternize with any of your old contacts, don't leave our level, don't work unsupervised, don't harm the team. Stuff you've been doing this whole time."

"Wait, don't leave the level?

"I mean, that's pretty obvious, bud. If we can't see you, we can't know that you're following the rest of the rules."

He nods mutely, gaze wandering. this whole thing just. He didn't know. It hurt.

Team Leader gently tilted his head up. "Villain, I'm only doing this because I trust you. I know you'd never do anything that could jeopardize your place here."

He doesn't trust that Villain is a hero though, obviously. That he's good. Because Villain could never be good. Not now. Not after all he's done. 

No, he can only hope to do good. And the only way he'll be able to do that is with the team. If this is what it takes to ease his team into working with him, if this is what it takes for him to stay, then he'll do it.

"O-okay."

"Atta boy, Villain! I knew you could do it, man."

Villain nods, trying to give him a smile.

Team Leader moves towards him all too quickly, and he can't help the flinch. The man doesn't seem to notice—or at least he doesn't acknowledge it—and is soon once again gently tilting Villain's chin up from where it had fallen. 

Villain fights the urge to lean into the touch.

While he's distracted, Team Leader swiftly brings the collar, already disengaged and bent open at the hinges, and presses it to Villain's skin. 

Villain jolts at the cold metal and fights to swallow as it's closed around his neck.

The locking mechanism clicks right up against his spine. He can't help the shudder that trickles down his back at the finality of the sound.

"I'm so proud of you, bud," Team Leader says with a big smile and a ruffle of Villain's shaggy curls.

The tightness in his chest eases, just a little. A little part of him flares in anger at how easily he's comforted. He doesn't deserve the comfort.

But he's trying. The collar now fit snuggly around his neck, like it was made for him, is proof of that.

--------------

ps ex-villain whumpee on the hero team but whumped by the hero team is my all-time favorite trope and it is so hard to find I have finally hit the point of needing to produce my own story to scratch the itch

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[meraki-sunset]

A lot of people were asking about the fussion trolls God tiers So here they are! Plus the dancestors

In case you forgot them or haven't seen them this is them. They were born like that in this AU, and their hemospectrum it's smaler and has diferent colors as a result.

I'll cover the story of their game as well as their dancestors and ancestors in another post

Here are the dancestors! Like in canon, they played their game and ended up scratching their game. But things went a little diferent for them...

The Legido. Araeta has Aradia's aspect and Nepeta's class, while it's reversed with Damlin, who has Damara's class and Meulin's aspect.

There isn't much to say about them, in the alpha trolls session it was Araeta who ascended last moment and stoped Jack noir. Damlin ascended in order to sabotage the beta troll's session, like Damara did in the original story.

Karlux Captas has Karkat's aspect and Sollux's class, while Mitkri has Kankri's class and Mituna's aspect.

In his session, Karlux took the role of the leader, his classpect Mage of blood should've made it easier to manage leadership (mage=understands aspect. Blood=Bonds) and the session went of well, for the most part, thos the ending was almost the same as the canon one, with them being traped in the meteor and people shooting left and right.

Mitkri was the seer of his team, but his vissions only consisted of fatidic scenarios, which his teammates often ignored due to his insistence geting in the way of progresing in the game. in the end, he lost his mind while using his powers in the final battle, losing conciousness. when he woke while his moirail restored his brain, his prediction had already been fulfilled and they had lost the game.

Teraya has kanaya's aspect and Terezi's class, and Latrim has Porrim's class and Latula's aspect.

As a seer of space, Teraya was tasked with the creation of the genesis frog and was helped by Karlux.

Latrim, she was the secondary healer of the group and kept everyone's mind active

Tavius has Tavros's aspect and Equius's clas, while Rufuss has Ruffio's class and Horuss's aspect.

This arrangement of class+aspect i did simply because the oposite of a heir of breath + rogue of void would've been a Page of void + Page of breath, and that would've been kinda ridiculous, plus i'm trying to have as many classes as i can.

Tavius literally has John's classpect now, he's more free than ever

Rufuss,on the other hand now has Roxy's exact aspect too, which is a funny coincidence. Like roxy he worked on manifesting things for his team.

Dear lord this two.

Erizee has Gamzee's aspect and Eridan's class, while his dancestor Crolos has Kurlos's class and Cronus's aspect.

Due to the wierd conection between the Amporas and Makaras this two would've shared class one way or another, since Gamzee and Eridan have eachother's dancestor's class, with Eridan being a prince like Kurlos and Gamzee being a bard like Cronus, but having the rage aspect like Kurlos and eridan having the hope aspect like Cronus.

I decided against having too Bards because i felt like a price creates a straigther path to destuction. Since a prince not only destroys his aspect but with his aspect, wich means Erizee would've appeared Rageless during the game but exploded in the meteor.

Crolos on the other hand whould've been manipulative like Kurlos but ill intended and gaslighty like Cronus, appearing hopeless until he ended up destroying everyone's hope.

His ghost would've kept instructing Erizee on how to proceed when he reached the new session, Erizee doesn't like him.

The heiresses to the throne of Alternia and Beforus.

again, to avoid having two thiefs (funny enough they would've been a thief of life and a thief of light) Vriezi is a witch of light and Meenea is a sylph of life.

when combining the two Serkets and the two Peixes you get a real interesting result, you get two very similar girls.

To me the fact that instead of them being thiefs, they both have "benevolent classpects" makes it all the more interesting. Makes you think how they can use good powers to cause harm.

Vrieri being the heiress has Feferi's will to dethrone the condesce (wich was alternate-adult Meenea) but Vriska's savage aproach to fighting. And Meenea, like Vrieri, looked forward to dethrone her ruling ancestor (wich was alternate-adult Vrieri) looking to manipulate and eliminate those in her way.

By playing the game, they both lost the chance to do so

if this two cross paths, it'll be a deathmatch on sight

If you haven't realized by now, this means, the two teams of trolls together, compose a full team.

It also means the dancestor's session was unviable from the begining, due to the lack of time and space players. just like the canon Alpha kids session

[tizeline]

What is Draxum's relationships with each of his kids?

I'd assume he's closest to Mikey due to their shared interest in the mystic arts, as well as Mikey's emotional attachment to anyone he considers family 🥰

I find it funny how similar Donnie and Draxum are in cannon and I wonder how that will play out in this AU

The same thing with Leo and Splinter were very similar to each other despite being on opposing sides.

Yeah, I'd say Draxum and Mikey are the closest with each other. Draxum loves all his sons, but he really has a soft spot for Mikey. Mikey in turn is very devoted to Draxum, I've mentioned it before but Mikey's strong desire to do the right thing paired up with a lifetime of his father convincing him that destroying humanity is the right thing has led to Mikey being very determined to fulfill Draxum's plan. Also him being a prodigy with mystic powers leads to him spending a lot of time training his abilites with Draxum.

Raph is basically Draxum's second in command, as the oldest of his brothers he of course is the leader of the team when Draxum isn't the one issuing out orders. Draxum puts a lot of responsibility on Raph, responsibility that Raph very much takes seriously so Draxum as a result also has a lot of trust in him.

Poor Leo is still very much dealing with some intense Middle Child Syndrome here lol. To be clear, Draxum still loves Leo, and vice versa, but Draxum's role as a parent has a tendency to clash with his role as a... what, a military commander? Something along those lines. Listen, he's preparing to lead the yokai into war against the humans, and with his sons on the frontlines he needs to quickly figure out their individual strengths so that can help them evolve their specific skillsets. Mikey has his mystic abilities, Raph has his physical power and Leo.... Well, we know that Leo's expertise lies in his strategic thinking, except neither he nor Draxum has figured that out yet lol. Draxum is the leader, he comes up with the plans, and Raph's in charge otherwise. He doesn't notice Leo's leadership capabilities because he doesn't even think to look for them.

Leo's situation is kinda similar in this AU to what is in canon, where his self-esteem issues caused by him not feeling like he's bringing enough to the team paired up with him being a total Daddy's Boy and craving parental validation that he doesn't feel like he's getting because Draxum is more focused on Leo's brothers so he acts out to get attention and again Draxum's parental duties clashes with his WAR LORD duties or whatever because dammit son I love you but you need to quit goofing off you're a soldier and uh.... yeah...... Leo feeling a bit like the black sheep of his family (hah, sheep, cuz Draxum's a... hah) is another contributing factor to him being the first to turn sides.

And yeah, you make a good point, Donnie being so similar to Draxum vs Leo being so similar to Splinter is.... ooooooo, that's fun, there's so much potential there. Draxum's definitely dissapointed that Donnie's so gifted when it comes to the sciences only for him to be all like "Alchemy??🤨🤨🤨 Mystic science??🤨🤨🤨 That's not scientifically accurate!🤨🤨🤨" and just rejecting almost anything yokai-related.

Actually, Leo reminding Draxum of Splinter has a lot of fun possibilites too. Draxum being all like "Ah, he's just like Lou Jitsu!🤩" while simultaniously being all like "Ugh, he's just like Lou Jitsu...😒"

[mistyresolve]

| Malicious Compliance - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 6k

Summary - After a near-miss on a mission Diver (reader) decides it might be time to reconcile with Ghost the next time they get a chance. Unfortunately (very fortunately), the next chance they get is when they are forced to take refuge in the world's smallest safe house. And Ghost had never been one for words so he shows his forgiveness in a more unorthodox way.   

Tags/Warnings - 18+ ONLY (mdni), explicit language and content, foreplay, size kink, slight breath play, he’s your superior and he’s all about you, p in v,    

A/N - yup, more porn with plot because it’s fun and i’ve been ✨inspired✨ 

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Ghost wasn’t in the wrong for being angry with you. He was one of the more reasonable LTs, but you tested his patience, questioned his authority, and disobeyed his orders. Not only that, but you disappointed him. You had completely disregarded his orders and nearly got yourself and a crew mate killed in the process. 

You were angry with yourself too. If it were just your life on the line you would have been smug, but you put another at risk. You prided yourself in your ability to get yourself out of any sticky situation, sometimes it was by the skin of your teeth. Hence the alias “Diver”. You received it from your first platoon leader because you dive into every risky situation. Usually, eyes closed. Usually, with no plan. And somehow came out the other side every time.  

Usually, you got a yelling at and the occasional latrine duty.    

This time was different. As soon as the team landed back on base Ghost stalked over to you. He ripped the rifle out from your hands and shoved you with enough force that you stumbled, barely catching yourself from falling. Oh, he was livid. 

“You forget yourself, Dive,” he tossed your gun back into the chopper and pressed onto you again, “Your recklessness is going to get someone killed one of these days. And you better hope that someone is you before it's anyone else.” 

The words stung, but he was right.  

“Get on the ground and give me a hundred,” he barked. He would write you up later tonight and inquire about other punishments.   

You dropped to the ground, your fingers splayed out on either side of you and waited for his go-head. 

“Hands together.” 

You shifted your hands closer together, creating a diamond shape with your fingers. The change would make the push up’s only a little harder but it would catch up with you eventually. 

“Down.”

You lowered your weight. 

“Up.” 

You raised yourself, arms snapping. 

“Down,” he repeated and you listened, eyes searing into the ground beneath you. When he you gave the command to continue on your own you did. Lowering yourself down, nose almost touching the ground. The breath that pushed out with every extension of your arms blew at the dusty pavement. Your movements were practiced and full of power. This wasn’t the first time you had to drop and give 100 since you had a bit of a reputation. 

You were on 30 when he growled, “Stop.” 

You paused, your nose to nose touching the floor and maintaining your body weight in the down position. 

“Restart and make sure you count this time” 

“One,” you blow out, not because of the exertion but because you yourself were angry. Each breath felt like it was stolen, “Two. Three. Four…” The muscles in your arms began to burn something sweet. You leaned into the pain, using it as a crutch to remain levelheaded. You earned the pain. You glared at the black boots that were planted two feet in front of you, “…Sixty nine. Seventy.” 

“That’s enough,” he was still angry, but he had places to be and watching you wasn’t a priority. He would take care of the rest and you later. 

You didn’t stop, wrenching your gaze to his. Temper simmering. Sweat beaded at your temples and dripped down your arms. Sweat droplets stained the pavement. You continued counting. He said 100. You were going to give him 100. 

He matched your glare, his own eyes narrowing on you, but he didn’t try stopping you again. Instead, he pivoted and left you there. Counting. You watched him leave, watched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of his own fury. In the chopper, he looked like he wanted to throw you out the side and watch you freefall back to earth.   

You didn’t stop even when his form disappeared. Your teammates had been kind enough to leave with him, knowing you didn’t want the company. The last 15 push ups were the hardest and the slowest. For the last 5 you shook, strained, and ground your teeth together, gathering the last dregs of strength. When you hit the 100 you brought yourself to your knees, allowing time to catch your breath. 

The pilot was sitting on the side helicopter, your gun resting in her lap, “You deserve it?’ she questioned and held out the rifle for you. 

Breathless you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”              

She might not have been there for the actual incident but she most definitely didn’t miss out on the aftermath, “Kinda wish I brought popcorn with me on missions. You guys always leave me with a show,” she kicked off the platform and added with a wide, fox-like smile, “Especially when he’s on board.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to discern that she was talking about Ghost, who had a certain affinity for the dramatics. You shrug a shoulder at her, grabbing your gun and picking up your day pack, “He and I don’t get along on the best of days, and I’m really good at pissing him off.” 

She hummed, “You better figure that one out before it gets to the point where he starts grounding you.” 

“What, give him flowers and an apology card?” 

“He seems like a chocolate kind of guy,” she started walking with you towards the hangar. She gave off the vibe that she thrived off the drama. Not in a nosey, malicious kind of way, but she would have no qualms about being a spectator. 

“He’d kick my ass if I did that,” and he would. He would kick your eyes just for bothering him with your presence. 

“If that’s what it takes for him to come around, let ‘em,” with that she parted from you, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as a goodbye.

Mud splashed beneath your feet with every running step, it splashed up your pant leg and covered your boots. You had lost your guy's tail hours ago but it was still raining hard enough that you started running the last miles to the supposed safe house. You used the term house loosely because as you came up on the fire watch tower you had to double check with Ghost to make sure he had the right location. He assured you with a nod. 

The latter to the spiralling stairs had since been removed and he had to intertwine his fingers to give you a foothold and hoist you up to the platform. You reached for his day pack first, then extended a hand for him. He’s heavier than he looks because you were far from weak but even with your free hand clamped to the railing you struggled to heave him up with you. 

“What do they feed you?” you groaned, rubbing at your shoulder. 

“Children. Let’s go,” he quipped, grabbing his bag and taking off up the stairs two steps at a time. When you reached him at the top he was already thumbing the key out of the whole carved out of the wooden railing. 

The fire tower was decommissioned years ago, but all the maps and posters were left behind. The Osborne Fire Finder in the center of the room was left on the coordinates of whatever last fire was called in. You scanned the room and Ghost closed and locked the door behind you. There was a rounded table pushed into a corner, and a small counter and a sink adjacent to it. A desk that was littered with old reports and notes, remnants of what must have been the radio station, and a tool. And a singular bed. 

“Cozy,” you dropped your bag onto the desk and started drawing the curtains to the millions of windows, “What’s your plan, LT?” 

“We need to get our radios working and contact HQ for an exfil,” he was already removing his radio from its pouch, its antenna was missing and the headset that usually accompanied it was left behind. A bullet clipped its’s earpiece and ripped it off his head to be exact. Adrenaline was too high for anyone to bat an eye at the fact that a couple of inches to the left and he would have been dead. That was also moments before he called a withdrawal and you and he got separated from the rest of the squad. Your radio has also seen better days, it took a direct shot. It saved your life but the fact that both of your radios were damaged was beyond unlucky. You tossed your radio to him, or whatever was left of it. 

“Were you trying to get shot?” he examined the device before setting it on the table next to his. He turned on a propane lamp, it hissed to life and its unmistakable smell quickly filled the room. 

“Were you?” 

“Shh.” 

You started to remove your vest and soaked jacket. Ghost hung his vest on the chair opposite him and got as far as unzipping the top of his jacket before he got distracted. He squinted at the desk, searching the radio parts when he spotted what he thought he could use. Finding what he was looking for he grabbed it all and returned to the table. 

The rain hammered against the glass panes and the wind whistled through the cracks around the door. This tower wasn’t the best insulated and combining that with the years of neglect meant it wasn’t retaining heat like it probably use to. You searched the cupboards and chest if see if someone stored blankets here beforehand.

“Aha!” you pulled out a green military issues blanket out of one of the chests, “How long think that’ll take you?” You asked as you leaned against the desk, the blanket wrapped around your shivering shoulders.     

“If I can,” he sighed, “I’ll have it figured out by morning. Just have to improvise…everything,” he already disassembled everything and he was inspecting each component. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to rebuild his radio or the first time he’s had to improvise. It was just that every time he caught a glimpse of yours he lost his train of thought. That bullet was meant for you and it was meant to be fetal. That fact was nagging at him, pulling at his chest.        

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched him fiddle about. The last couple of weeks you had been preparing what you were going to say to him about the last mission. Practicing how you were going to apologize to him. You cleared your throat, “I, uhh,” he looked up from the table, sensing your unease. For a brief second, you considered going and sitting out in the rain just to get away from him, “About our last assignment. You were right about me and I was out of line.”  

 He rested his temple on a fist and glowered at you from beneath his brows, his expression angry.    

“Would you stop mad dogging me so I can get through my speech,” you snapped, throwing the blanket onto the bed. 

He threw up a hand in the what? gesture, “I’m not mad dogging you.”   

“You are.” 

“’m not.” 

“Just,” you waved a hand at the radios still disassembled before him, “glare at that so I can concentrate.”  

He rolled his eyes but lowered them to the table, pretending to be considering the materials and parts. 

“Thank you,” you blow out a breath, recollecting your half-prepared speech, “I didn’t think he’d run in after me,” you confessed, “People aren’t usually dumb enough to do that—”

“You are.”

“Yup. Let me finish. I understand that you as a superior have to consider everyone’s safety, and I haven’t exactly made that easy for you. The last thing I want is to put you and my team at risk. On the other hand, I work better on my own. Like you,” he looked back up this time some of the anger had dissipated, but he looked like he was rallying to say something so you put a hand to silence him, “I’m not asking you to relieve me from the squad. I’d miss them too much. I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. Let me prove to you that I can go solo. Or atleast let me join you every once in a while so I can learn.” 

“Dive, you have no idea how much paperwork you’ve cost me,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I have a little bit of an idea,” you mumbled shamefully.  

“I can’t take you on my assignments, and I can’t send you on solos,” he looked uncomfortable. Or maybe uneasy, “You need to prove to me that you can follow the orders I already give you.”

“I will,” you almost started pleading, “I promise, and if I’m alone I won’t be putting anyone else at risk.”

“It’s not just about your squad, Dive,” he picked up the casing from your radio, the plastic and metal left a mangled mess from the bullet, “I need you to stay alive, and I can’t make sure of that if I let you run off on your own. One day you won’t make it back.”     

You blinked at him. 

I need you to stay alive. 

He wasn’t mad at you for being brash, he was scared that one of these times your luck was going to run out. He was scared you were going to die on him. That you were going to leave him behind. 

He tossed the casing back onto the table, defeated. 

“Ghost, I didnt—” you hesitated, searching for the right words. 

I didn’t know that you cared that much.  

If you did your interactions with him would have been very very different. 

“Don’t,” he shook his head. This was not how he was planning on exposing himself. Not that he ever planned on confessing in the first place. He was going to take it to his grave. He was planning to get rid of the sickly warm feeling in his chest every time he saw you. Every time he was around you or thought of you. 

You pushed off the desk and made your way to stand in front of him, in between his legs. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his hands twitching in his lap. You took one of his hands and crouched before him. Even in the dimly lit room, you could see his pupils flare as you placed his hand on your chest, right about your pounding heart. The heat from his palm soaked into your still damp shirt, warming the skin underneath. 

“I’m alive, no?” you placed your other hand on top of his, the size comparison between your hand and his made your toes curl in your boots. 

“Yes,” he was utterly still as he searched your face. He was all analyses and contemplation. He touched you like he was afraid you would dissolve before his eyes; like if he spoke too loud you’d slip through his fingers like smoke.    

“Go ahead,” he didn’t need to verbalize whatever he was thinking because you could see it in the crease at his brow, the tightness in his jaw.  

He glided his hand up to your face, his bare thumb drawing a line from the side of your mouth and across your cheek. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, diving into the mess of wet hair. The sound of the rainstorm outside faded into nothing when his other hand cradled the other side of your face. You reached up to his mask, fingers finding their way underneath to pull it up over his mouth and nose. You half expected him to stop you, for him to tell you all the reasons he shouldn’t be touching you, but he didn’t.

He didn’t give you time to admire him before he was leaning down and his soft mouth was on yours. The kiss was sweet and innocent, nothing more than him wanting to feel you closer. Something about the kiss was tentative and unsure and in an attempt to soothe his uncertainty, you entangled your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. He tilted your head to open the kiss and allow him better access. He nipped at your bottom lip when you didn’t immediately open your mouth to him. His tongue swiped at the same spot on your lip as if to apologize before delving in to explore. You moaned into him as his tongue found yours and as he licked and kissed his way with you. 

The kiss may have started off as a manifestation of tragic tormented desire, but it very quickly morphed into something desperate and hot. He kissed you like you were opium and he was chasing a high. He tasted you like he was craving you. 

A hand dipped down to your waist and he tugged at you till you were straddling his thigh. He ran his hands up and down your body before gripping at your hips. His thumbs dug into the sensitive flesh there. Not once did either of you pull away. Not even for a breath. You tug down the zipper on his jacket, and then immediately dove under the bottom of his shirt desperate for the feel of his bare skin. He groaned at the contact, his muscles tightening at your chilled fingers. Heat and pleasure shot down to your core at the sound. 

He could feel your cunt pulse against his thigh, and he thought his soul had left his body. He fantasizes about having you in this exact position before, riding his leg. Riding him. He’s thought about you underneath him, begging for more. If he wasn’t so desperate for you he would have been giddy. 

His grip tightened and it was sure to leave marks that would last for days, “Go ahead, Dive. Grind on me,” he kissed a constellation from your lip across your neck, sucking bruises into the delicate skin. 

You rolled your hips once and the unhurried pace only amplified the pleasure that shot up your spine. You mewed at him when he guided you into a slow gentle pace and leaned back into the chair to get a better view. His lips were red and swollen, and his lids were heavy with lust. You pushed a side of his jacket off his shoulder, a silent command that you wanted it off. He took his hands off you just long enough to shrug off the jacket and yank off the shirt underneath. He was all hard muscle, golden skin and ink. Scars mottled his skin, some old and some new enough that they were still in the healing process. Each one was a near-miss and a miracle. You would find time later to kiss every one of them. 

With tender hands, he lifted the thin material of your shirt. The speed and precision at which he removed your bra were enough for you to make a mental note to ask him just how many times he’s done that maneuver afterwards. If only to get a rise out of him. 

“Lemme see you,” his eyes roamed over your body leisurely, his rough hands scraping against your supple skin, “You’re fucking beautiful,” his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when you started rocking your hips again. What he wouldn’t give to be in this moment with you forever.   

A lewd haze made your head heavy forcing it to fall back, your mouth hanging open with a moan. A hand reached up to catch the back of your head, fingers curling, “Keep your eyes on me, Dive,” he laid his accent on thick. You locked eyes with him, his pupils were blown. You braced your hands on his leg, nails digging into the fabric and the muscle underneath. The friction was just where you needed it, and every motion was like electricity in your veins. 

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized what exactly you were doing. You were grinding your wet pussy on your lieutenant's thigh, while he murmured obscenities into your skin; and it should have made you feel ashamed it instead made you feel like every nerve ending was firing. It was naughty and deviant but it only made it more thrilling. The probability of someone finding out, or the sexual tension that was sure to follow was exhilarating. 

He dragged his mouth from your neck to your breast, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at you, only for his tongue to follow to alleviate any pain. A hand reached up to knead your other breast, his thumb flicking over the sensitive bud. 

He felt like heaven and each point of contact was absolutely divine.    

Small pants turned into throaty moans and your hips stuttered as you chased your climax. You were teetering on the edge with eyes closed when you heard, “Atta girl, come for me,” and you crashed into the orgasm. Your mind went blank and all you could think about was him, all you could feel was him. Ghost helped lull you through it with strong hands holding you down on his leg and guiding your shuddering hips.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. Pure electricity was streaming through your veins. More. You needed more of him. You could feel the slickness between your legs and it was most likely seeping through your pants and wetting his. Good. You wanted to be all over him. Moving in for another kiss and immediately opened his mouth for you, letting your tongue dominate his. He buckled his belt with one hand as he adjusted your positions, shuffling you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed. He pulled down your pants and undergarments before settling you back onto the bed. Leaving you completely bare for him. You were at the perfect height to lick a long, sloppy line up his defined stomach. His wide shoulders and narrow waist made him look delectable. 

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, pulling the belt from the loops, and going for the zipper next. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you bleated. You would have said anything he told you to. 

The wolfish smile he gave made you squeeze your thighs together, “You’re going to have to prove to me you deserve that first.” 

When he didn’t move to pull his pants down you reached for them yourself, you wanted to see what he hid under there. Licking your lips, “How do I do that? Want me to suck you dry?” 

He grasped your wrists, stopping you, “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you do it when you think of me.” 

Of course, he knew. Of course, he knew you whimpered his name while you touched yourself at night. He knew from the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way your attention lingered on him, on his  

“I thought you weren’t going to send me on any solos?” you retort, spreading your legs even further apart. His pupils flared as he watched your arousal drip down into the sheets and the groan that followed sounded like he was in distress.   

“You’re a brat,” he knelt on the bed, one knee in between your legs to block you from closing them on him when he dragged a hand up your leg, stopping just before your cunt. The proximity and promise were intoxicating, and you worried you would cum again before he even touched you, he brought his lips just shy of a kiss, “Touch. Yourself,” it was a command. He held onto his self-control like it was a living, breathing entity. He teased it just to the point of discomfort before reigning it back into submission. 

“Are you going to pull rank on me, LT?” you lifted your hips towards his fingers, and he allowed for the contact. He dipped them into your arousal, drawing a line from your core back to your thigh. His head dipped down to look at your mess, and his next breath was short of a gasp. 

“Do you want me to?” he questioned, although he sounded far away. Not far in physical distance, but his mind was someplace else entirely. He was imagining the taste of you and the way you’d push his face further into your pussy if he dropped to his knee and eat you out. He would have done just that if he hadn’t already set his foot down, “Now, Dive. Or I leave you like this,” This time when he met your eyes you were met with sadistic honesty. He would. It would nearly be the death of him, but he would leave you wanton on the bed. He would turn around and finish fixing the radio. 

Your breath caught in your chest and then your hand slid down your stomach before reaching your center. Still sensitive from your earlier climax you jolted at the first bit of contact. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out when you pushed a single finger in with ease. You were already ready for his cock, you would have taken all he had to give you, and more. He palmed the thick bulge through his pants with a hand as he watched, matching his strokes with each pump of your fingers. 

Your fingers were nothing compared to how he would feel but knowing he wouldn’t give you his frustrated you beyond belief. You rubbed tight, swift circles around your clit, while your other hand worked your cunt, needing every bit of stimulation. He hooked an arm under your knee, holding it up and to the side to allow him a full view. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” he shook his head in disbelief that you were actually beneath him and pulled his cock free from its confines. He was massive. Long, yes, but he was thick. The head alone would hurt going in. Pre was leaking from the tip and his thumb swiped it to coat the underneath of his shaft. You were expecting him to be big but he was next level. He was going to tear you apart. 

No wonder he wasn’t preparing you so thoroughly. 

You practically pounced on him. Well, tried to. He moved faster than you and shoved you back onto the bed, his teeth flashing in the dim lamp light, “Did I say stop?” 

“Please,” you could only hope you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt. 

You did. 

“Please, Riley,” your wet fingers wrapped around the arm that held you down.

“Say my name, baby,” he tilted his head to the side, his chest heaving in anticipation. 

“Please, Simon. I need you to touch me,” please, please, please.      

With one hand still holding you to the bed, his other hand replaced yours. Shoving two thick fingers into your weeping cunt and the wet squelching sounds it made were offensive. But, oh my god, he felt like sex itself. Long awaited and godly. He wasn’t rough but his fingers were snug and every pump was fast. His fingers curled and he hit the spongy spot inside you. He brought you to the edge fast and hard. You bowed off the bed, hips raising. If it was to get away from him or to somehow get him closer, you couldn’t tell if your life was dependent on it. You choked out a sob and another climax threatened. 

He moved with your every jump and shake, he heeded to your body and listened to every sound that escaped you. He cataloged every expression and reaction. 

As your orgasm suffocated you the moan that followed morphed into a scream from the force of it. Your vision evaded you for a second, and stars swam. Your legs gave out on you and trembled as he rode the high with you, his movement slowed and tender.    

If he so much as asked you for your name you wouldn’t have been able to remember it. Faintly you could feel his hands rub calming circles onto your thigh, murmuring affirmations. He had his fingers in you mere seconds and he had to dumbified. He was too good at it. 

At base, there was a group of girls that gossiped about how some of the men are be in bed. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t taken part in some of those conversations. All out of boredom and fun and Ghost was a subject in those conversations a couple of times and just as you expected his reputation precedes him. You knew he’s been with other women, you’d heard from those same women the specifics, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that bubbled up like soda.    

He slid his cock into your pussy and bottomed out before you could comprehend what was going on. He slowly stretched you out deliciously and you were so full of him it felt like he was in your stomach. You felt a hand brush away hair from your face, the action bringing you back to your body. 

“Tell me when,” he murmured into the space between you, his voice was like velvet. You felt him twitch inside you, his own restraint taut. Every muscle in his body was tensed, readying for your approval. You made a cautious roll of your hips. The discomfort liquefied into sensual heat, and you sighed at the release.

He moved methodically and with unhurried thrusts. He listened and watched to know when he needed to stop and give you a moment to collect yourself. He was so careful with you. So gentle.

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

His strokes went from languid to rhythmic snaps. He leaned down for a kiss, bracing himself on the bed with his elbows. In between kisses, he whispered to you about how good you were doing taking him. Honey dripped from his tongue and coated his words.    

The head of his cock knocked against your cervix and you clung to his tattooed forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh and ink there. He growled at the sudden pain, his fingers fisting the sheets. He would accept whatever marks you gave him, and he would show them off. He would come crawling back for more before the old ones could fade away.                                      

“Fuck me,” he huffed into the sheets and gritted his teeth, as your nails raked across the span of his back in an attempt to bring him closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated your bodies. 

“Faster,” your hand disappeared under the back of his mask to find silky hair and tugged. He was more than happy to do as he was told. He shifted back on his knees, throwing both your legs to one side so you were still on your back but he could enter you from behind. Somehow, Somehow he was able to stroke deeper inside of you, with an angle that felt euphoric. The moan he unleashed from his chest was downright obscene.    

You were practically drooling and your eyes rolled, “Yes, yes, yes,” you weren’t going to last. Your skin felt too tight and your blood was too hot. Judging by the downright obscene moan he unleashed from his chest, he was close too. 

Again his hand found your breast and squeezed hard enough to bring attention to it, before sliding up to your throat. His fingers encircled and tightened just enough for it to become a little difficult to breathe. 

He’s killed grown men with that very same hand around their throats. He could do the same to you in an instant and yet you didn’t shy away from him. Your trust in him drove him absolutely wild. His thrusts became sloppy and irregular. 

“Cum with me,” you begged, not just with your words but with your eyes. You needed him like air like he was pleasure itself. 

It broke him, your words broke him. It was all he needed for the tether to sanity to snap and he drove himself into you, his fingers digging into flesh and muscle in an attempt to ground himself to his own body. His new vigour was merciless and forced whimpers from you, ripped them right from your chest. 

Your thirst climax was devastating, so intense not even a sound could escape you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your cunt spasming around him. If he didn’t pull out to release himself on your ass when he did you probably would have kicked him off you from overstimulation. His groans and ravaged pants conveyed his own fatigued and satisfaction before his words could. Strength betrayed him and he plopped onto the bed beside you, taking your achy body with him so you were laying across his broad chest. You laid silently for a time and you traced the lines of his tattooed arm and the bite mark you had given to him. His heart hammered against his chest, and his voice resonated against your ear as he spoke, “You felt exactly how I imagined you’d feel,”

A sheepish smile spread across your face, “You felt better than I imagined you’d feel,” and he did. A man hasn’t made you feel that good in…well, ever.   

He made a sound that resembled a laugh, “We better get you cleaned up,” he delicately moved you off him, offering the blanket you found earlier for warmth while he dressed. He wet a tea towel with the canteen of water underneath the kitchenette and helped you clean up his and your mess. Then he tossed you a clean shirt from his day pack, “Get some rest. I need to finish fixing this damn thing so we can get the hell out of here.” 

You don’t know how long it took him to fix the radios (or if he slept), because you fell asleep shortly after but when you awoke in the morning he had already packed everything up and called in an exfil. They were going to pick you two up in 20 mins, and you and Ghost spent that 20 sharing hot, sloppy kisses with your body trapped between him and the door. If the chopper took any longer you were sure he would have taken you right there. 

You readjusted your satchel for the third time, tightening the straps till you couldn’t anymore. The pilot was the same woman from your last mission, her all-knowing eyes widening when she saw you, “You been working out more, Ghost? Or did your vest shrink in the wash?”  

Oh, shit. 

He looked down at the badge on the chest, before jerking his attention to the badge on yours, of the lack thereof. 

Somehow you’d mixed up your vests on your way out the door. 

“Honest, mistake,” he shrugged and removed it with expert efficiency switching it with you for his.   

“I’ve never made it,” the pilot teased, not even trying to hide her smile.

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A/N - he’s so yummy

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[shotmrmiller]

expanding on the konig ask // it turned a bit nsfw sorry

könig would mistake your simple kindness as a crush.

he'd been slightly startled when you gently rapped on his office door to ask him if he wanted a cup of warm caffeine before breakfast since you're already getting one for yourself. (he hasn't a clue that horangi had practically begged for one too.)

then was the one time you'd offered to stitch the tear in his hood. he'd sputtered, completely taken aback by how brazen you'd been. "nein." he'd stiffly walked away apple-cheeked; hands balled into fists in his pockets. (no one knows how to sew for shit, you're the team medic of both bodies and clothing.)

then you bring him an apple pastry. the pencil (könig, please. we are in 2k24 use a pen) snaps in his hand when you choke out, "apfel strudel". his mother tongue rolling off of yours is truly too much and when you leave, he fists himself under his desk with the butchered words echoing inside his head. shame roils in his gut after— post-nut clarity hitting like nothing else— and with a snarl, he wipes the thick cum off of his hand on his pants while using the other to eat the treat that you so kindly baked for him. (the pastry was cold and made of tart green apples which he's hated since he was a lad.)

and now, with your head resting on his padded shoulder, dozing off. his tongue is tied in a knot and there's a lump in his throat because no one's ever really dared to be so forward with him. not only is he a walking pussy deterrent— what with his height and creepy, blank stare— but he's also a colonel; your superior. he can only have him under you in one way and that's under his command. so he makes his choice. once the helo lands back at base, könig taps the side of your helmet with his finger and mutedly asks you to meet him in his office.

"i am flattered, ja? but you must cease this behavior."

"sir?"

he clenches his jaw, crooked teeth gnashing together in determination. he won't let your pretty, round face deter him from his duty to his country, the team, nor you. it simply wouldn't be fair. he's your leader so it's up to him to put a stop to this. könig refuses to acknowledge the look of disappointment on your face. (delusional. you look confused because you literally have no idea what he's talking about.)

"the food—"

"you didn't like it? the apfel strudel?" he chokes on his spit when you say it and turns around to pound at his chest. he doesn't hear how you had told fender to not order that dessert. 'just because it's austrian doesn't mean the colonel will like it.'

he's fortunate to have such a tall backrest on his office chair because his cock is already at half-mast and your dulcet voice reverberating off the plain walls of his small office is doing him no favors. könig stands directly behind it and dismisses you with a wave of his hand and a hoarse command.

how tantalizing you are, so bold to be showcasing your talent in home economics just like a frigatebird puffing its chest out to attract a mate. his grip on the chair tightens, the leather protesting with a soft creak.

it's just a crush. time will erode these frail sentiments you've come to have for him (for him! an old, ugly man whose virginity has practically grown back since the last time he slept with someone was a paid sex worker years ago) and so he'll just ignore them.

(he doesn't. he fucks his pillow every night— jaw trembling and saliva pooling— thinking it's you taking him instead and confuses your s/o as a relative.)