Eepy Alex

fucking help me

This some good shit right here

MDNI

not developed idea at all but thinking about Ghost torturing some crime lord or other and he’s using the man’s wife as leverage. Gun to her head as she cries and shakes, tied up on the floor of the concrete room, begging her husband to help her.

Ghost gives the man a choice; his life, or hers. His lip curls beneath the mask when the man chooses his own life.

“Shouldn’t treat y’wife that way.” He says coldly. “Bad for you, yeah? Happy wife, and all that.”

The bullet lands exactly where he means it to go; between the bloke’s eyes. Blood trickles down his forehead, body slackens in the restraints holding him. The pretty thing on the floor screams. Thrashes and thumps her tied wrists off his legs while she curses him out.

“Thank you wouldn’t hurt,” he rumbles dryly. “Would’ve been you if your man had his way. Up you get, c’mon.”

He pulls her to her feet, brushes her down with lingering hands. Smooths over her hair and thumbs away the tears. The mask shifts, like he’s frowning.

“Calm down, y’fine. Not going to shoot you.” He doesn’t trust her to walk alongside him nicely, so he lifts her over his shoulder with a pat to her arse. “Alright, ‘bout time we get you home. Spare rooms a tip so we’ll be sharing the bed, mind.”

(I will boop everyone who reblogs this post, for the record 💖)

this is an experiment:

trying to prove something to my friends

REBLOG IF YOU THINK PANSEXUALITY AND BISEXUALITY ARE TWO DIFFERENT, VALID SEXUALITIES

Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious

Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation

I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.

I just want him to have a nice meal 😔

-🐙

I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...

But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :

You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.

Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.

"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.

"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.

That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."

"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).

You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.

You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.

Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.

"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.

"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.

"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.

The Box Pt. 2 (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader Pt. 1 Here cw: smut, squirting, dom/sub vibes, sex toys, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, choking word count: 2k Reader faces her punishment for lying. First time writing smut. Be easy on me.

You saw the change in his eyes and your heart dropped. You knew not to lie, but you did it anyway for your own comfort and appeasement.

You kept talking, continuing as if all was well, him just replying with “mhm”. You knew it wasn’t. You knew that he knew it wasn’t.

He tricked you. Well, the branch tricked you. He figured it out. You lied. Four times, for that matter.

He looked you in your eyes. Not a smile in sight, his thumb no longer massaging your neck and his grip subtly tightening.

“Go get the box,” he commanded.

Fuck. Not the box.

“I can explain,” you pleaded.

“Try me,” he said. You didn’t know whether that meant you could go on with your explanation that you didn’t actually have or he would punish you more for not going to get the box the first time he told you to.

You use it as an opportunity to conjure up a response. Hopefully, one that’ll make him change his mind. Because, quite frankly, you were not at all prepared for anything he may do with any of the items from the box.

Lying was a major offense. But it was just for shits and giggles. Surely, he’d understand.

“I just wanted to spend more time with you. I like when you touch me,” you explained, your eyes wide and doe, trying to earn his sympathy.

“You like spending time with me?” he asked, more like a statement rather than a question. “And you like when I touch you?” he asked, using the same tone, keeping the same grip around your neck. He sounded like he was contemplating changing his mind.

You nodded your head slowly in response.

It really was an innocent act. You don’t normally get to spend this much time with him. He could get called into work at any point in time.

Hell. He could get called into right now. Which would work great to your benefit because that meant that you didn’t have to face the wrath of the box.

Actually. yeah.

Let’s hope he gets called into work.

Actually, no. You don’t mean it. You’d rather face the box and have him hold you down and torture your pussy for hours before leaving for another few months.

He looked at you, analyzing the plea in your eyes and the small pout on your face that you didn’t even notice was there. According to him, you subconsciously do it when you are trying to get out of something. It used to work, but it hasn't recently. Let's hope that it will today.

He scanned over your body, his free hand finding its way to your waist. His hand trailed lower and lower until it found its way to the band of your panties.

Your body shivered as he slid his calloused and rough hand past, making contact with your folds, all as he kept eye contact with you. Any time you tried to look away, embarrassed by what he’d find on his inspection, he quickly turned your head back to face him.

His hand trailed lower until he found what he’d been looking for, his middle two digits finding the pool of slick that was building up in your panties.

You didn’t think it would be that much, but when he brought his fingers up to your mouth and forced you to open, you realized you were wrong.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and used the hand that was once a collar to cup your face, his thumb on one cheek and his remaining fingers on the other. With the warmth of his hand and the feeling of his glare, you know the slick was pooling more with each millisecond that passed. He sat you up, making you get on your knees in between his legs.

He tilted your head to the side, slowly turning it to face the other way as he kissed down your neck. You couldn’t help but to let out the smallest moan. His lips soft against your skin and the warmth of his tongue just made you wish he would put it in other places.

But then suddenly, he stopped, and you felt his breath against your ear.

“Go. Get. The box,” he commanded, though his voice was much more brute.

And to no surprise, he hadn’t turned your head for easy access to your neck. It was to face the location of the box that sat in the back of the closet that you had been facing as you were enjoying his mouth on your neck.

Fuck, you thought.

He had practically thrown you off of him, giving you no choice but to obey his demands.

You walked as slowly as you could, trying to distract yourself from what’s to come. Or in better words, from who’s to come.

“Every second you waste is another minute added to your time,” he said from behind you.

Damnit. He had a time prepared. Even worse.

He knew all of your antics. It didn't matter what you did or what you said. He would always catch on.

You scrambled through the closet to uncover the infamous box. It wasn’t anything special. It was just a brown box that held every sex toy that Simon loved to torture you with.

And you couldn’t bank on any of them dying, while he tortured you because he always kept them charged.

The minimum time with a device: two hours.

He’s done it before. Using a device on you until it died. You were just about to come, and then the vibrations got lighter and lighter until they were no more. You whined, but best believe Simon had something else for you.

You shamefully walked the box to him and put it on the bed. Maybe he was feeling nice and would let you choose.

Wrong.

He pulled you onto the bed and immediately instructed you to remove all of your clothing.

It didn’t take long as you only had on a large t-shirt and your panties.

He watched as you removed your panties, the strands of slick elongating as you pulled them down.

“Give them to me,” he commanded, holding his hand out.

You did as you were told and now you were over him, fully naked, with your wetness practically dripping down your thigh. He admired you in all your glory, and he couldn’t wait to watch you squirm and plead as he tortured you.

You went to him, straddled over his thigh and your head on his shoulder, a tear about to slide down your face.

The last time you lied, your pussy was sore for two days.

He slowly trailed his hand up and down your spine. He could feel your puddle of slick through his pants. His other hand opened the box, rummaging through its contents.

The more he dug, the closer you came to sobbing.

And you did once he pulled out the first device.

The wand.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. But it wasn’t enough. He continued to rummage through as your tears fell onto his shoulder. He couldn’t care less. You were only apologizing because you got caught. And now you had to pay.

Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.

You should’ve learned your lesson the first time.

He pulled out the bar that kept your legs spread apart, something he got after you kept closing your legs before. Then, he pulled out the ropes. What he would do with them, you wouldn’t know. And lastly, he pulled out the homemade makeshift thigh holster, used to keep whatever device perfectly planted on your clit no matter how much you moved.

In combination with the bar, you weren’t going anywhere, and neither was the wand.

He gathered everything and put them in the pile beside himself. He tended to you for the last time before his wrath began.

“Don’t cry,” he said, wiping away your tears. His voice was tender. Comforting. it was possible he would be more gentle with you than you thought.

“If you hadn’t lied, you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” he antagonized, placing a kiss on your cheek that perfectly coated his lips with your salty tears.

He pried you off of his leg and arm and laid you in front of him. There was nothing you could do now other than to comply. That way, he’ll see you’re being a good girl and maybe end his torture early.

You sniffled as he locked your legs in place with the bar, your ankles perfectly placed in the straps.

“Give me your arms,” he calmly demanded. and you obeyed.

He tied the rope to the bar and then to your arms. The more you struggled, the more your pussy was exposed. And last but not least, the thigh holster, accompanied by its friend. The wand that you dreaded. You wouldn’t even use it while he was away. It was too powerful. You couldn’t last two minutes with coming and the overstimulation was too much to bear.

He angled the wand perfectly on your clit, making you squirm around. You tried to get away or at least move it so it wouldn’t be as torturous, but you couldn’t, making you softly whine.

All this and he still has your panties in his hand. You thought he would have thrown them on the ground with your t-shirt by now.

He gently trailed his thumb up and down your folds for a little before he got up from the bed, licking your slick from his thumb.

He turned your body and pulled it to face the edge of the bed. You worried if you moved too much, you might fall off, but Simon wouldn’t let that happen. He’d ram his dick into you to send you jolting back before he let you hit the ground.

He admired the view of your pussy before he came beside you, sitting on the bed and gently stroking your cheek.

“Simon, I said I’m sorry,” you pleaded. But he still didn’t care. You were already tied up. There was no way out.

“What are your colors?” he proceeded to ask, disregarding everything you had just said.

“Red. Yellow. Green,” you said, hoping the eye contact would make him loosen up a bit. Or maybe the tear that slid down the side of your face would do it.

It didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead and quickly stuffing your panties in your mouth, forbidding you from speaking. More tears rolled down the sides of your face. The flashbacks were coming in all too well.

“I love you,” he told you, before he set the wand to the highest setting it could go, already having you arch your back, squirming around to try to run away from it.

Your efforts were of no use. There was no running from this. He watched as your pussy cried with you, streams flooding onto the bedsheets.

He ran his fingers through your folds, sometimes sending them into your hole, preparing it for what was to come next. It just added to the stimulation, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It had only been two and a half minutes and you had already come.

Simon was silent as he watched you struggle. He loved seeing you try to run away. Your hands reaching for the wand to pull it away, but you simply couldn’t reach. He just played with your pussy as the wand worked its magic on your clit.

To stretch you out more, he took out the dildos, smallest to largest, the smallest still being enough for you to whine and arch your back in pleasure.

Every time you came, he changed the size of the dildo that was inserted into you. It had been ten minutes, and you were only on dildo two out of seven. After seven, you had to face the final boss.

Simon.

Little did you know, he would cycle through the dildos until your squirt made a puddle on the floor, edging and overstimulating you at the same time.

Then you’d be ready to take his dick.

Pt. 3

Once, you were part of a taskforce with John Price as your captain. Once, you were his right hand, the one who looked up to him and stuck by him through hell or high water. But a botched mission landed you in Makarov's 'care'. You tried to hold out for Price, you waited, and waited, and waited. But help did not come, your loyalty repaid with betrayal.

Now you're Makarov's dog. You bark when he tells you, you shoot when he orders, and you bite out the throat of whoever he wants. And he's there to wipe the crimson off your cheeks and lick the blood staining your teeth, rewarding your loyalty with his attention and sweet pleasure. Once his touch would have made disgust curl under your skin, but now your body craves it like a drug. You are his after all, his good dog.

His Hound.

Chapter 1: Good Dog

Playlist if anyone wants it lol

Lin Manuel Miranda is our generations version of Shakespeare.

Both of them have/had wildly successful careers, popping up all over the place with random things, interactions with the Queen of England, and one of their most known theatre performances was based on a book (Romeo and Juliet / Hamilton)

Head canon 1: Peter Pettigrew was there that night

Head canon 2: James Potters last words were “Pete?”

Headcanon: probably Dean always eats more than Sam in the show because he knows how it feels to be hungry. When the money ran out and there was only a bit food left, Dean gave it Sammy and goes hungry to bed and this over many days until John came back with money and food