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intheshadowsbehindyou · 7 months

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Hey I've been wanting to ask you for a while a request I've had. Can I have some headcanons of the mercenary's realizing their feelings for the 10th merc after they brutally bash in a enemy's skull in for trying to kill said merc. And then the 10th merc looks at them with extreme concern while checking up on them. Before turning around and killing another enemy that was about to kill them.

I would love to see the mercenary's reaction to being saved by their crush and having to deal with the horny panic of finding them attractive.

If you dont want to do this that's fine. Thanks again for making really good tf2 x reader content! I love it! Byebye have a good day/night.

The Mercs realizing they have feelings for Y/N after watching them brutally kill an enemy (NSFW)

WARNING: severe amounts of simping

Scout:

- Oh. Oh.. OH. OHH NOOO! OUR SCOUUTTT. HE’S BROKKEEENNN

- You look so dazzling with the blood on your clothes and the rockets whizzing past you. The explosions in the background creating a fine backdrop. Cue the cheesy romantic 40s music as you kill people in slow motion and Scout is in awe.

- You’re confused. He had been standing there even after you had successfully cleared the point. You wave your hand in front of his face and he doesn’t react.

- In his head he’s already having romantic fantasies of frolicking with you on the beach and bashing in people’s heads. The idea of you beating the shit out of him particularly makes him feel a certain way. He has no idea why. Oh god, is this normal? Wait.. Why is he already having thoughts of marrying you and growing old together?

- Immediately goes whining to Spy like a little pussy about you. He’s batshit scared of you but also has the most confusing boner. Good job. You sent him crying after his daddy. You hear a “SPYYYYYYYYYYYeeeEEEE!” as you leave the battlefield. Followed by a groan from said frenchman.

———————————————————————-

Soldier:

“NOW HANG ON PRIVATE THATS NOT EXACTLY— Oh.. Ah..” Soldier hisses through his teeth and puts his fist to his mouth, his helmet falls back a bit from the impact you made of kicking an enemy demoman’s sticky bomb back to him. You can see his expression is incredibly conflicted about this. With mild arousal. Holy shit. Somebody as batshit crazy as him. Who the hell kicks an active explosive?

- Because on one hand, you’re impractical yet affective at what you do. Just like him. But on the other hand that’s HIS THING. NOT YOURS! He’s one to act incredibly erratic on many occasions when strategy is in the back of his head awaiting the stupidly fast yet eons long conveyor belt.

- Becomes incredibly infatuated by you on the spot. Creating a sort of vague idea in his head on what you could be like. Cue very vivid fantasies of you and him strangling a sumo wrestler while naked, claiming france as an American owned country for some reason by sticking the flag into the tip of the Eiffel tower while naked, and having a fine American breakfast on the deck of your cottage.. (while naked.)

- “Is that a pistol in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” You ask him afterwards. “NEGATIVE. THAT’S A ROCKET. I ran out of room.” He lies. You believe him because that sounds like something he’d do.

———————————————————————-

Demoman:

- You destroy a sentry nest he was trying to demolish around a choke point. He’s both offended, and slightly attracted. You’ve destroyed his pride and humbled him. Normally Demoman is the only one who can take down a sentry nest unless Medic has full charge on somebody — among other things.

- He opens his mouth to protest but you silence him with an award winning smile that makes his heart flutter. As you run past him to head over to Medic and regain your strength, he’s scratching his stubble. Trying to comprehend the slurry of feelings. Demoman is an adult and he’s old enough to be fully aware that you can feel multiple emotions at once; that doesn’t make him any less disoriented though.

- “Ay.. finally somebody who’s on my level!” he calls after you. Promising he’ll outrank you next round. His competitive nature demands it. He’s trying so hard to ignore his boner right now. Assuming it to be just from adrenaline.

- Well, you’re tied. You’re both equal amounts on the next scoreboard. He stares at it on the intel computer terminals in disbelief. He immediately downs a shit load of his scrumpy. Holy shit. He has a massive crush on you now. Begins to wonder how drunk he can get before he forgets about this.

———————————————————————-

Engineer:

- You distract him so much he doesn’t even realize the jammed shell in his shotgun at first. You’ve made him lose like half of his life experience in a fraction of a second and he tries to take out the jammed shell and ends up burning himself. “God. DANGIT.”

- inwardly embarrassed and trying to make it seem like all was normal; he slaps the back of the gun so the shell falls out. Continues trying to defend the points… emphasis on tries. You’re his type AND you’re blood thirsty. He can’t help but feel slightly intrigued. The sparks of what would eventually be a crush once he starts talking to you more.

- He can’t bring himself to think filthy thoughts of someone he just met, he wasn’t raised like that. Occasionally the thought crosses his mind and he becomes a little angry with himself. Please stop being sexy in front of somebody who was raised in the bible belt. PLEASE! he would beg you if it didn’t sound so weird out of context.

- Fuck it. Christian shame doesn’t beat nature. He has to jerk off to the thought of you after battles in the shower. You’ve fucked him up.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- “Heavy, i’m fully charged. Focus on the soldiers in the front and tell me when to— Was zur Hölle?!” Medic complains, looking away from Heavy’s WAY too apparent hard on.

- Heavy would make a great ice sculpture right now. He’s both sweating and frozen in place as he watches you tear the enemy lines to shreds. He rarely feels this way for anybody at all. Heavy was certain his libido evened out as he got older but you just brought him back to square one. He felt like a horny teenager again.

- He wants to lick the blood off your neck so bad. It’s disgraceful. He feels like a disgusting sewage pipe and suddenly wishes the respawn machine didn’t exist so he could permanently die out here just to forget this even happened.

- Eventually waves his hand for Medic to pocket someone else. Goes over and helps you kick some ass. You indirectly both bond from this and successfully kickstart your connection.

———————————————————————-

Pyro:

- You’re the same as them in their point of view. A ‘misunderstood’ killer (Yeah, okay..) who wanted nothing more than peace of mind while they went about their daily business!

- The enjoy he sees in your eyes as you land a hit is marvelous. Every single swing of your melee felt like some sort of complex ballet. There was birds and neon colors following you wherever you went. You’ve now given them a weird fetish for adept mercenaries they had no idea they even had. They want to meet you RIGHT NOW.

- air blasts a poor demoman off a cliff you were fighting. “Hey. It’s alright. I got this.” You tell them. Pyro just tilts their head. You walk on to cap the cart and Pyro follows closely behind you. “What’s up?” You finally ask him, out of curiosity. Pyro just stares. You begin to recall horror stories that the other mercs told you of Pyro.

- They continue following you around as your own personal bodyguard. Engineer tells you that he does the same to him on occasion. To the extent of protecting his sentries. Apparently Pyro just follows people around like a dog because they have no idea how to communicate their interest.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Watches you a day before a match doing target practice atop a bridge. The targets in question are in the ravine below. The way you so effortlessly hit each target, only missing a few — for some reason caught his attention. He lowered his scope from his eye and preferred the entertainment of you for a moment.

- You get angry after only missing two. Taking your long range and throwing it aggressively into the ravine. Sniper has no clue why you did this, considering you’re the first person in a while who hasn’t fucked up this course right off the bat. For some reason your aggression is getting him hot and bothered. Is this just a weird preference or a sexual thing? Holy shit, he has no idea.

- Sniper brings his legs together to hide his wood. “Eyes both open with a gun like that, mate. Instinctive to close an eye but I guarantee you, if ya just focus on nothing but the target then boom.” He says. Wondering if maybe he was just overthinking and his penis was being insane.

- “As if you shoot with anything else besides a fucking sniper rifle.” You talk back. “I do, actually.” He says, shrugging at your rage. He didn’t feel like sassing back right now. He was tired. “I could show ya if ya want.”

- He bites his lip, applying pressure to the point it’s red. It was both your bad attitude and shooting skills. He loved a partner who was needlessly edgy. This is seriously the type of guy to swoon over the most edgiest of individuals. Eat nails for breakfast and wear a biker vest for god’s sake while you’re at it.

———————————————————————

Medic:

- Uhm.. Medic’s a little weird.

- Not only is he aroused by you in general but the blood on your clothes and in your hair. The way you kill enemies in-and-itself is arousing him. Much like Engineer he tries to focus on his job to no avail. Ends up pocketing you all day and after the other Mercs ask him about it, he claims it’s because they’re all annoying and not doing their jobs correctly again.

- He sits at his desk at night trying to do paperwork. He can’t focus after what he’s seen today. He begins having incredibly fucked up fantasies of eating your organs. Or you climbing into his chest and sleeping in there. Better yet? sex with both your entrails hanging out! knife play! biting! Dear god he’s gross. God, just shut up.

- He puts a hand to his own heart, feeling his heartbeat. For a second he suspected he was getting possessed or something. But no, he’s just incredibly horny. “Archimedes.” Medic said breathlessly. “I do believe i’m moonstruck. Which is unacceptable..” He sort of laughs nervously.

- Coooo. Brrr.

- “Yes, I wholeheartedly agree.” His voice is hoarse. Medic picks up his bonesaw at the end of his table and looks at his own reflection in it. “Every time I love somebody it ends horribly. Best just get what I want and move on.” He says, darkly. What he doesn’t know is that this is the start of his relationship with you. Enticing you to have sex with him — with your consent — it brings you and him to an incredibly intimate level.

————————————————————-

Spy:

- MOTHERFUCKER AINT PLAYIN. he doesn’t waste time. He sees a fellow serial killer and he immediately goes in for the kill. (Pun intended.) But yeah this is Spy we’re talking about here. He’s a manwhore and I thought the canon already established that.

- “That was some fine work out there.” He tells you slowly. His hands behind his back. “Would you care to join me for a second?” He offers his hand. Which you take hesitantly. He takes you to his quarters and attempts to court you. Which works because he’s something straight out of a romance movie with his clever quips.

- “I have a feeling—“ He begins, slowly offering his hand and hovering it above your thigh, placing it down and rubbing you slowly when he didn’t sense any discomfort. “That we will enjoy each other’s company often, my pet.” He looks for your approval. Any sign of it.

- Dude is so fucking slick that you can’t resist him. He’s unbelievably experienced in romance and knows how to charm his way into your pants. It was like you were under a spell by a hypnotic snake. He ends up getting what he wants and doesn’t hold back. His knife is threatening your back and he’s atop you. “Shhh.”

- Sex happens. Aggressive sex. Right off the bat.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #pyro x reader #sniper x reader

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soapkaars · 2 months

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Expanding on Eon the Spy - apart from cats I imagine them having an incredibly ugly smallish dog, something like a basset hound. Just an incredibly spoilt dog who looks like he’s had enough of the world doing anything he damn well pleases

#peter lorre #drawing #agenda doodle #eon the spy

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️

All, Most, Some, None

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Snow melts in the heat of blood.

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending

A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity.

When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder.

John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times.

For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons.

“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.

“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”

A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.

“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago.

He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him.

Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”

“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”

You turn away quickly, face burning.

“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts.

“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun.

“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.”

Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion.

“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him.

Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing.

The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face.

It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you.

“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back.

You smile at him, huffing a laugh.

“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.

“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head.

“...Alright.”

“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this.

He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before.

“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer.

Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.

The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine.

—

“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation.

It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position.

To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp.

John had been hit through the right thigh.

Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.

Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him.

“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.

“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!”

“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him.

Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.

Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.

“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.

There was too much blood.

Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.

There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.

You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.

Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do.

“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet.

There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes.

“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”

Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob.

“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly.

Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you.

The both of you…

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his.

Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.

You can forget that the both of you are dying.

John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes.

“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.

The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail.

“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek.

“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.”

“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”

It’s obvious what you mean.

John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.”

The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it.

You should have told him sooner.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold.

You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.

—

In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other.

What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.

TAGS:

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cu7ie · 10 months

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hiiiiii ☺️ if u r still accepting thirsts, what kinks do u think toman have? u can pick whoever u like!

content: discussion of various kinks. consensual involvement of all parties implied. masochistic reader: nahoya, baji, mitsuya, draken. public sex: mitsuya. very (extremely) brief mention of cannibalism: baji , takemitchi x hana x reader in takemitchy's part. assplay - takemitchi. penis headcanon - takemitchi

MINORS DON'T INTERACT.

an: i got this fucking eons ago. it is finally answered this fine day. (with the help of @bimbohub - much love <3) some of these are unorthodox. argue in the comments or my inbox <3.

chifuyu likes —

bottoming. a firm hand and a strong direction to provide him that foundation - stability to do what needs to get done instead of trying to figure it all on his own.

roleplay. he favors pet/master play, but doesn't mind schoolkid/teacher, or boss/worker - just prefers being the one on the leash, the one being reprimanded, the one being punished ... doesn't mind a role reversal from time to time!

cucking. would let baji fuck his partner. hell, if the whole of toman wanted to fuck, his baby would just have to say the word, and he'd open the floodgates. for chifuyu it doesn't spawn shame within him, and he doesn't harbor ill will towards friends who choose to indulge in you - there's no shame in them liking you when he loves you so much. it's only natural.

bondage. not any more skilled in rope tying than your average delinquent, but there's something so gratifying about rubbed raw wrists - the imprint the binding leaves behind feels like an unspoken badge of honor. that n' the soreness in his hips, because he never lets you take it easy on him.

kazutora likes —

feet. would beat up a schmuck and steal his money just so he can pay for your pedicure. has to beg you to play a little 'footsie' (cute, right?) because you hate the sticky, gross feeling of his cum between your toes, but he's pleading, bargaining with you even. says he'll clean up his own mess and everything.

and gosh. how could you even turn down such a sight?

quickies. i feel like tora cums fast anyway, but there is certain energy contained within that bit of sex, the hurriedness of it all, the mess he leaves pooling in your panties for you to clean (or cope, if you two are in public.) and it's versatile. you could use your hand, mouth, thighs, hole. he's not at all picky.

voyuerism. tora has a little eye that likes to spy. it supersedes any love for exhibitionism or public sex - it's so much more intimate than that. getting to see you undress. touching yourself with such little shame, when you're so shy up close. he has endless moments and memories captured in his mind. some in your bed, some in your shower - his bed. in the living room that one time! enough jerk off material for a millenium.

nahoya likes —

oral. specifcally, your mouth. loves getting his dick sucked because he's impatient and it allows him a delicious amount of control. he can get you to bob up and down with a hand on the back on your head - choke you with the thickness of his cock, the head of it brushing up against your uvula. he's not even worried when you gag. hit his thighs all you like, but you're getting nowhere fast being bratty.

hair-pulling. pulling your hair. he's a little attack dog and will get a little too rough - but one hand in your hair gives him something to focus on- an anchor deeper into you. firm grip, subtle tension. just enough to make you neck curve and your moans just a little more work. likes his hair grabbed too, but gives you specific instructions, grab it a little tight at the root. tug gently. it's fun when you're riding him, such a determined look on your face trying to remember what he said when he's fucking the thoughts out of you.

spitting. sometimes in your mouth, sometimes just on you. it's a part of degradation he holds to a higher esteem than all the others. he does it with precision and intent - a firm slap on your ass and a bit of wetness on your back. sometimes he makes you lean your head back when he's fucking you so hard your hips are on lift-off, and he spits on your tongue; pulling you up to kiss him after.

"that's liquid gold. don't waste it."

baji likes —

biting. rabidness and feralness is all baji knows. even when he's not fucking, he says he bites the things he likes and the more he talks about how he wants to mark you everywhere, his oral fixation nearly ebbs into cannibalistic ideation. sometimes it's a little nibble, doesn't even leave a mark. other times it's a violent chomp, that makes you gasp and sometimes the pain makes you let out a confused moan, flinching upright and away.

but then he's settling atop you, pulling you into his lap, bending you over the counter.

expect lots of new marks before the end of the night.

rough sex. baji will bruise hips, leave crescent shaped marks in hips, bites all over your neck, fingers gripping your hair like a leash. he fucks with a foot on your head, pins you down as he pistons his hips in and out so hard his balls sting when they clap against your skin. spurred on by your whining and moaning, he'll switch positions.

full nelson? your legs are going past your head. sometimes he'll even just wrap a snug arm around your neck while he's rolling his hips into you like a demon, fucking you so hard your insides feel throbbing and bruised.

you cum the hardest when you're at least a little lightheaded, though, so not being able to walk afterwards is kinda worth it.

slapping. will put his hands on anything. baji's law? if it can be slapped, it absolutely will. he'll slap ass, tits, cock, balls. he wants to hear it, see it flop and jiggle as you cringe away from the sudden touch, but whine for more of him anyway. he likes to see you jerk, feel the heat created by his palm as he rubs his hand over the spot.

and if he does it hard enough, you flinch from the after-sting.

draken likes —

size difference. naturally, draken is a pretty big guy. when he was younger it was easier to notice among smaller peers, but the novelty doesn't wear off as he gets older. especially when he starts dating you. his hands are so big they can wrap around both wrists, and you squirm beneath him pathetically as his shadow covers you with ease, and he's cooing almost cruelly about how big his dick is in comparison to you, contemplating how you might stretch n' squeeze sooo deliciously around him. he'll flop it against your tummy, let you feel it's red hot warmth as it throbs intimidatingly. and he cums there's not enough space to fit it all! the sheer amount always ensures your sheets are sticky after.

he also loves being able to pick on somebody his own size. his cock will punch the air out of your lungs. he's rougher because he worries less about breaking you. doesn't have to drape you over his cock and use his hands to move you because you can do the work all on your own. loves watching you fuck yourself on his dick while he all he has to do is lay back and watch you. the sweat collects on your brow as you try to maintain your pace atop him, and he's laughing in a way that makes your face hot and cheeks sting. and the moment he gets antsy from not moving, you're getting fucked on your side while he reminds you of just how well you've been taking him.

brat taming. draken does not do any kind of disobedience in the slightest. it takes him a while to reach that point with you, but you can't deny your easing and egging him on.

you wanna cop an attitude because he ate the food you said you didn't want? you wanna give him the cold shoulder because he didn't run after you to comfort you after you stormed off? he can handle it. he can take it and compartmentalize it, forget about it - only because you're kissing up on him afterwards. but there's always the straw that breaks the camel's back.

his frustration reaches a boiling point when he's cooking dinner and you suck your teeth after he asks you to hand him a knife, and his head snaps so fast to look at you his braid tosses itself over his shoulder. he washes his hands in an instant, not paying mind to your complaint about him getting your shirt wet when he grabs you by your wrist and takes you back to the bedroom, making you lay across his lap. he will make you apologize. every defiance, every squirm or misspeak is rewarded with a SLAP! that's so loud it embarrasses you more than it hurts. that only lasts for a second, as the pain filters in and you mumble a little "ow..."

which he spanks you for again! you're supposed to be apologizing, remember?

spanking. draken has a special ritual for clapping his hands against your ass, believe it or not. one strike means a verbal apology. two strikes means you're on thin ice, and he expects you to bow your head and maintain silence for a moment or two. three strikes? you are getting bent over his knee, and no apology you stutter out between him taking you back to the room and spreading out over his lap can dissuade him from putting you back in your place.

he had big hands, and is used to leaving marks or bruises sometimes. if you're (un)lucky, he'll be wearing his rings as he does it. The sound of each smack like music to his ears as he gets off on you squirming and tearing up, the pain growing to be too much. then he stops. lets you catch a quick breath before the next smack forces it back out of you.

after the fact, when you're blubbering and seemingly can't run your mouth anymore, he has you take care of his hard-on. maybe if you stopped being such a brat, he'd help you out too. eats you out after if you do a good enough job.

mikey likes —

size difference. mikey has a vested interest in establishing hierarchy within his relationships. whatever your body is became his when you started dating him. and as his bitch, he expects you to, no matter how big you are, bend to his will when it's time to fuck. he likes being the dominant party.

loves being able to bend a big bitch over. appreciates how you gasp when he picks you up and fucks you into the wall. or the look of confusion on your face when he can bend you in half and make you stay that way. if you're smaller than him, why, he enjoys teeny cock sluts too. the ones that strangle his cock, hole so fucking tight he has to work them open with terrifyingly slow rolls of his hips.

he likes big cocks, small tits, fat pussy, skinny cock, tiny pussy. fat ass, flat ass, big muscle, chubby tummy, flabby arms! tall, short. if it's different he likes it. if it's familiar he also likes it.

breastfeeding. sucking on nipples, milk or no, legitimately calms him. he can fist his cock and just settle in your lap (or sometimes he can get you to stroke him off) while he latches onto you, sucking and licking over the fleshy bud until you're squirming from the pleasure. it becomes cold and is over far too soon as he moves to the other one. lightly nibbling and tugging with his teeth.

milk adds a new depth to the fun he can have. as he cups your chest in your hand and makes a daft comment about 'leaky udders' and reliving pressure. he can always take what you have to give. it's almost like he never gets full.

roughhousing. mikey likes something about being underestimated. by enemy gangs is one thing - but you can get so haughty sometimes! what's a better way than giving you a noogie to scramble your brains, or with tussling to the ground when you stick out your lip and say "Make me?" he's used to it, and it's so fun to get to flex his strength over you - especially because after he pins you down, the look of you, so helpless ...

sometimes he can't help it if it goes a little further! if it ends up with him pushing your thighs to your chest and biting at your mouth trying to kiss you- bruising the back of your ass as the force of his hips clatters into you and makes you squeal.

he's just a little easy to rile up is all.

mitsuya likes —

gang-banging. he thinks sex with you alone is just fine. however he wouldn't mind if you brought your friends... or maybe you wouldn't mind if he brought his? he's a little selfish. wants a little bit of this or a little bit of that - kiss from this person, nipple play with that person, fingers crooked inside another.

he's never not busy and that's the way he likes it, true facts. when it comes to sharing you with his friends though, he only has one rule. he needs to be inside you at all times. he prefers creaming in your ass/stuffing your pussy, but he'll very begrudgingly settle for your mouth - depending on who's asking. the most important criteria is that he starts and finishes inside. kind of like the last man standing.

flogging. mitsuya likes to punish brats with a small voice and a big stick. he lets you complain, lets you stomp your feet and have your tantrum after dinner, while you're a little tipsy and mad at him for not getting you that one extra glass of wine. he just smiles and takes you home, but as soon as you're inside, he's helping you strip. you're still mumbling your protest as you go and lay on the bed, ass up like he told you to.

maybe you act out like this because you like getting punished? it's not like he doesn't remind you with his patient smile that doesn't meet his pointed eyes. anyway, it all ends the same. with you curling your fingers into your blanket and squealing as the instrument snaps sharply against your ass, blood rushing to the site that gives a cool euphoric feeling, before fading out into a dull, painful throb.

you sniffle about how you're sorry, but moan every time the flog comes down on your ass, filtered in between your little whines and tears.

bimbo training. mitsuya just finds dumb sluts sooo cute. the ones that mindlessly lap at cock and suck on balls, eager to have a load shot deep down their throat, and smart enough tor remember to thank him afterwards. he maintains a strict wardrobe for them. no heels lower than one inch. tops are meant to be formfitting but not uncomfortable - he would end up procuring or creating your pieces on his own, giving you accessories to match every single outfit, but you're not allowed to wear them during the sex part of training.

mitsuya likes gentle reminding. encouragement to try the things you're afraid of, how it'll be okay if you just focus on the sound of his voice, forget about everyone else in the room, just ride his cock like he knows you want to...

it's fun not having to think when it comes to mitsuya. when you stutter or stumble or don't know what to say, he just smiles and speaks for you, thinks for you. it's a lot less stressful! a whole lot more efficient too. mitsuya still takes his time to explain things to you, (so kind!) breaking it down into many little parts so it's easier for you to digest!

oh... what would you do without him?

takemitchi likes —

cucking. he really doesn't deserve hana. it makes his stomach roll every time he thinks about how she settled for him - when she has all the makings to be her own woman - with a better guy (or girl) that could give her all she could ever want - and not have to settle with his short comings. but she kisses up on him the same, strokes his cock slow like she usually does, kisses him on the forehead when he cums...

so when you come along, with the measured kindness that makes his stomach flutter and his head hurt, he tells hina about you. then she meets you. and falls for you just as he did. it's always been his desire to see you two fuck. hear hina moan when you slurp on her clit just right, fingering her pussy till she's clenching around your fingers and make her lick her own wetness from your skin. you fuck her with toys first, then work her up to something bigger.

(penis'd) your cock is a lot fatter than his. he knows because when you fuck into hina for the first time the head squishes and you groan, hips stuttering as you get caught on the tightness of her pussy and releasing a shuddering breath, hina's eyes are closed and her mouth is stuck in an euphoric 'oh', takemitchi's hand like a blur as he angrily fists his cock and bites down on his hand. he's never seen hina make those faces before, make those squeaky breathless noises. he cums to the sound of her moaning your name, and from the sound of the bed shaking, you're no where near finished.

(strap'd) hina's not used to all the bumps and texture on this silicone cock. every angle you hit deeper inside her forces out a hoot or a little holler, her face beet red as you whisper filthy things into her ear. about how she's a little slut for letting her husband watch, how this pussy is now your property ... hina is bent over the bed over the bed at one point, calling out for takemitchi to do ...something. after a point all her noises blur together, but he does end up holding her hand through her orgasm, which you also faithfully fuck her through. she's creamed over your cock at least twice now - faster than takemitchi pulling a single orgasm out of her.

overstimulation. it's not hard to get takemitchi to cum his brains out. a bit of breathing near his cock, a single tug, is enough to get him hard. so imagine a mouth that won't let up? a hand that's so insistent on pumping load after load after load until he has no more to give. a vibrating toy on his nipples or strapped to his dick or up his ass? it's going to put him out of commission for five to six business days. he's always a sweaty sticky mess, pleading for less friction when he's the one who's been bucking into your hand this whole time.

obviously, he still wants it. and who are you to stop a thirsty man from drinking his water?

anal stimulation is another thing he can't handle. a butt plug stretching him out like a glove, a dildo, or a fat cock up his ass? strap or no, he's lost the ability to speak at that point. he's all flushed red and tries to be quiet, but you always wring those noises out of him, somehow.

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prettyboypistol · 25 days

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TF2 Mercs x Romantic M!Reader

Scout

Has never had anyone pull out the stops for him. He's the youngest of 7, his life has been full of hand-me-downs and overlooking.

When you hand him a bouquet of roses he actually fucking cries.

Dinner, a movie while holding hands, cuddling under the stars? God, he feels like a princess in a disney movie and you're his prince charming

Soldier

He's touched, really, he is! But has a hard time expressing it. He gives you a big ol' kiss and thanks you with a smile, but is lowkey pretty awkward when you offer to dance with him.

He looooved the homecooked dinner you made for him- after all, restaurants aren't really his scene. Course after course if just amazing!

Afterwards, you convince him to slowdance/cuddledance with you while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He blushed so hard you can feel the heat on his cheeks.

Pyro

OH MY GOD??? ALL THIS FOR ME??? THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

Well, that's what you think they signed to you as they blubbered tearfully and hugged you. You decorated the recreation room with streamers of deep red and had a bowl of icecream to share while watching a movie!

Their favorite part is when you lit the streamers on fire, making a brief flaming heart.

Demoman

What's better than a roadtrip and sightseeing in a new place? You two snuck out and drove to Dallas for a long weekend out. It took you eons to convince the Administrator for a long weekend too, so it was extra heartfelt!

Big foods, big hats, and big inside jokes nobody else will understand, most of all- you take Demoman out to light fireworks in the desert. Big ones.

With all the clamoring to see the light show, Demoman is elated to kiss you in public with nobody noticing.

Engineer

Going to his favorite museum of engineering and listening to him talk is what Dell found most heartstopping. That dopey look of love as you listened intently had him in a chokehold.

Brushing the backs of your hands together feels more scandalous than holding your hand as you give him a teasing wink.

After, you cook his favorite meal? "Oh darlin', you're an angel."

Heavy

Doesn't know how to react at first, insisting he doesn't need to be spoiled. Then you pull out the handknitted mittens with bear paws on the inside and he's all the way on board to let you spoil him like a king.

You get a thank you kiss for everything you do, a promise to repay the favor later (;P) with every surprise you give him.

Oh boy does he, the more you love on Heavy, the more he loves on you.

Sniper

Survivalist camping with him over the weekend is how you win his heart. He sees you fishing at the crack of dawn and you just smile at him and hand him a pole. The comfortable silence has him blushing like a poppy.

Play wrestle this man. Play wrestle him and win. Pin this man to the ground with a playful yet exerting smile and he will never forget the moment until the day he does and then some. Then kiss him. Do it.

Spy

Ah, a nice restaurant where he doesn't have to worry about the bill, a gala where he doesn't have to assassinate anyone, and a handsome man he isn't obligated to sleep with for information- this is the perfect date!

He's quite the flirt as well, but as long as you can keep up with him, you'll win out in the end with your romance attack modifiers of the date on your side.

Dancing with him is a must, even if you're bad, it's still overwhelmingly charming to Spy.

Medic

YOU BOUGHT HIM NEW SYRINGES AFTER HIS OLD ONES SNAPPED???? AWWW YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!!!

Much like Spy, Medic loves a fancy dinner and dancing, but he likes the thrill of a mission to help digest his food. That's why you two break into the blood donation truck and take some especially weird samples of blood that you find.

While the police chase you, you two share a kiss. Be gay, do crime!

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nerds-yearbook · 2 years

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On May 24, 1985, Roger Moore appeared for the final time as James Bond in A View to a Kill. ("A View to a Kill", flm, event)

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hydropyro · 5 months

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Raphael Theory

Raphael is not a just cambion.

Evidence –

First evidence is his ability to create contracts. We can see from the in game cambion, Mizora, who works on behalf of Zariel, that she herself is not capable of granting power or creating contracts. In order to amend her contract with Wyll she requires witnesses.

With Raphael we see regular independent contract making. From his contract with the Infernal Mason: which causes Raphael to lead an army against the Goddess of Loss, to his contract to Yurgir, a powerful baatezu (Devils, natural inhabitants of Baator) in his own right, Raphael answers to, seemingly, no one, and exerts as much power as he likes, when he likes.

Continuing with his contract with the Infernal Mason, first we see a “cambion”, which tend to fall quite low on the hierarchy tree of baatezu, *having*, *controlling*, and *mobilising* an army of fiends onto the mortal plane to contradict a goddess’s will. He addresses Yurgir as ‘commander’ before the fight in the House of Hope, indicating that Yurgir has significant status among the Baatezu. Orthons are commonly used as personal guards, bounty-hunters, and generals for Pit Fiends, Infernal Dukes/Duchesses, and Arch Devils.

In the fight with Raphael in the House of Hope we also see Raphael command a personal army of fiends which he’s able to summon to himself from elsewhere in the Hells.

Final evidence, Raphael’s Ascended form. While it’s something we haven’t seen elsewhere in the game, his form does actually align with a Pit Fiend: and a powerful one. In baatezu hierarchy the devil’s *form* changes based on their rank. They are ‘purified’ in the fires and emerge a more powerful self, with an accompanying form.

Raphael’s Ascended form best matches a Pit Fiend, the second highest rank in the hierarchy.

I posit that Raphael is an Infernal Duke. Not only that, but he is powerful enough in himself not to need to serve a specific Arch Devil. (((When meeting Haarlep he says he sometimes takes the shape of Archduchess Raphael. This is not confirmation of my theory, rather it is a testament to his ego and ambitions, as he is in no way an ARCHduke — yet)))

If I’m correct, this *most likely* explains why Mephistopheles would send Haarlep to distract, and potentially spy on, Raphael. The only rank above Infernal Duke is Arch Devil. Raphael, then, is a genuine threat to the current ruling of the Hells: Mephistopheles included.

If Raphael was born a cambion eons past, which we have no reason to believe otherwise, he has torn upward through the infernal ranks. This is not only difficult, but would be incredibly painful for Raphael himself, as each evolution would require his previous form be burned away and purified by the fires.

Raphael revels in subverting expectations, and likely enjoys being underestimated. He masquerades as a cambion because they are nobodies on the infernal plane — but he is far from nobody.

I believe that Raphael chose Avernus for his House of Hope because Zariel isn’t able to kick him out, nor is she able to subjugate him. While in Avernus Raphael has the freedom and power to do what he wants, when he wants.

A cambion wanting the Crown of Karsus to achieve godhood is laughable. But an Infernal Duke, son of Mephistopheles, wanting the Crown to achieve godhood is *possible* and *terrifying* for all of the baatezu.

I haven’t found any answers regarding this final thought: but I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Raphael, whether we killed him or not. His story shows that he is crafty, has backup plans for his backup plans, and has ambitions that can feasibly topple the hells.

Raphael *was* a cambion. He is *now* an Infernal Duke, and the only ‘rank’ above him is Archduke (that — and God)

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #haarlep #raphael #theorycrafting #theory

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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A Sikorsky special for @ozzgin. Enjoy Sikorsky as the Snow King (based off the Snow Queen). Merry Christmas 🎄🥰

Yandere Baki Shorts: The Snow King

Yandere Sikorsky x GN Reader x One Sided Crush Baki Hanma

Cold hands touched your face as your eyes dully glanced up at the frozen man before you. The various white pelts that adorned his figure made him appear to be some sort of royalty yet you couldn’t bring it form within yourself to care all that much

Ever since it snowed heavily while you were outside with your childhood friend, Baki, something within him changed for the worse. He became a miniature version of his father, a blood thirsty, uncaring monster. And it destroyed your heart when he suddenly fled your village in search of strength which brought you to where you are now… in front of the Snow King

Sikorsky clicked his tongue when he noticed your dazed expression. You were no doubt thinking of that stupid Hanma boy, but if all worked out in his favor. That demon had lured you into his arms and if it wasn’t for the evil mirror that had embedded itself into his heart, Sikorsky would have never had you where he wanted you. It was easy for him to reverse the magic but he couldn’t help but admire you.

Unlike Sikorsky and the current Baki, you were warm and inviting like an open fire. You were resilient despite all the obstacles Sikorsky had thrown your way to try to keep Baki as his underling. You had so much love for Baki that even Sikorsky could feel it from his frozen palace. And Sikorsky began to desire you

Sikorsky would use his magic to constantly spy on you as you made the perilous journey to his palace. You were beautiful… far more beautiful than the frozen wasteland he called home. If he was winter then you were spring.

Sikorsky smiled when you didn’t even flinch at how cold his hands were as he held your face. His blue eyes lit up in pure joy. You were finally here… finally in his arms where you belonged

“Let Baki go… I’ll do anything.” Sikorsky’s breath hitched when soft tears fell from your eyes. He swore he felt his frozen heart beat for a moment, something that hadn’t happened in eons… “I love him.”

Sikorsky made a sour face but quickly recovered. You loved this oaf when there was a royal standing right before you that could give you the world if you so much as asked? A pity. Sikorsky was sure he could change your mind with time… after all, he always got his way.

“Then stay with me.” Sikorsky whispered while his hands trembled. “If you stay with me for eternity, I’ll let Baki go.”

“Okay… I’ll stay-“ You almost jumped out of your skin when he suddenly pulled you into his arms in excitement. Sikorsky was as cold as the ice his palace was made of. The blonde trembled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Sikorsky snapped his fingers and Baki was knocked out of his trance. The young man quickly tried to charge towards the two of you but Sikorsky sent him back to the village with a flick of his wrist. His blue magic encased the young man and left the two of you alone

Sikorsky scooped you up into his muscular arms to press his cold lips against yours. “I promise you’ll grow to love me with time.”

You could only nod as a few stray tears fell from your eyes. You were now trapped for an eternity with a lonely being that was supposed to be nothing more than a fairytale.

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