Untitled (lazy)

27, she or they. My dedicated blog to writing and interacting with other creators, since my main is a dumpster of random posts (affectionate). I reblog lots of art and writing here! Main is vaya-mernda. Pro monster fucker and will probably be horny from time to time. guilty-pleasure-writings where I reblog more horrific art and writing (darkfic etc) and do occasional hornyposting. Please respect my boundaries and do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

[vaya-writes]

My Masterlist

My A03

Last updated: 2nd of February, 2025

Most recent fic:

Infernal Assistance (Option Four) - 4

Serving the Serpent - AITA 2 and AITA 3

Ordered from most to least recent. Finished are bolded.

Series:

Serving the Serpent - AITA: 1, 2, 3

A series of joke AITA posts that are about some of the antagonists in the Serving the Serpent universe. These are prompts and drabbles written for fun that reveal some key details of character back stories that might not otherwise be mentioned in the canon story. They contain mild spoilers and reading them might lessen the impact of some character backstory reveals later.

Infernal Assistance (Option Four): Prologue, 1, 2, Intermission, 3, 4, TBC

You’ve been struggling to survive in a zombie apocalypse. Things are looking really bad, before a demon swoops in to help. But that demon is an incubus. And he’s in need of help too.

Asexual reader (GNC pronouns, AFAB) x m demon, situationship, allies to lovers, zombie apocalypse AU, smutfic.

The Caretaker of Larlimen House:

Become the caretaker of Larlimen House; home to a number of supernatural creatures. It's your job to maintain the house and look after them- whatever that might entail.

The Caretaker of Larlimen House is a game in development on Twine. The following fics are shorts either from or regarding the game.

Resident Interviews - Masterlist

Not Quite A Life Debt - 1, 2, 3, TBC

A handful of f reader insert scenes with m demonic love interests. Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smutty shenanigans that lean kind of poly.

You (kind of unnecessarily) tried to save Ludwig’s life. Out of pity, he lets you crash at his place for a few weeks after. It probably wouldn’t be so bad, but he doesn’t live alone. /// Reader stays with the triplets until she gets back on her feet. Smut, family shenanigans, and possibly even romance ensues.

Serving the Serpent - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, more to come

Cis female mute human x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut)

Briar owes Lord Isen her life, unfortunately. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she's not used to anyone paying her much attention. She struggles particularly when Isen seems set on interacting with her.

The Wyvern's Bride - 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 1.5, 1.6, 1.7, 1.8, 1.9, 2.1, 2.2 (NSFW), 2.3 (NSFW), 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 3.7 (NSFW), Epilogue

Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut)

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

Drabbles and Oneshots:

Demon Summoning Gone Wrong - human gnc reader insert x it/they gnc demon. Bad ending? Open ending? You decide what happens next, but it probably won't be consensual.

Mothman - A monstertober prompt, along with the word 'tether'. Reader x Mothman. CW: domestic abuse briefly referenced. Monster in captivity.

Leshen - A monstertober prompt. Coupled with the goretober prompt 'caught'. Reader insert x leshen. CW: abduction.

Hellhound - A monstertober prompt. Devil & Pet Hellhound first meeting.

The Worst Cellmate - excuse the dorky name, just some body horror with a surprise shapeshifter prompt and some slight yandere vibes? CW: body horror, unsexy vore, off screen gore

Catching a Greed Demon - gnc demon x gnc human reader insert, meet cute, human does not have a normal response to things, CW: home invasion

Infernal Courting - gnc demon x gnc human reader insert, horror/romance?

Demonic Favours - m human x m demon, fluff

Movie Night - f human reader insert x m demon x m demon x m demon, smut, hurt/comfort, foursome, reader insert is a developed character

Plus Two - f human reader insert x m demon, smut, petty catharsis, shenanigans, semi-public sex, reader insert is a developed character

-

I've got other fics over on A03 but they're much nastier.

Non con and horror porn fics are over on my side blog: @guilty-pleasure-writings

[rawme-price]

Okay imagine a soulmark au with biologist!reader who studies mers...

Of course you have a soulmark, just like every other person on earth. Distinct black, covering the entirety of your palm, as though you grabbed someone's arm or touches their shoulder.

You never concerned yourself with your soulmark, why would you? There's more important things in life than some silly future spouse. Like science, like biology and animals and mers. You've been fascinated with them since you were waddling on two feet, begging to watch video after video of mers and devouring any book you could get your hands on about them.

Of course, no one seemed to like mers just as much as you did. Obsessed, your classmates called you. Driven, more like it. Driven enough to graduate uni and start researching these creatures.

Then you met Gaz on your first expedition.

You two really hit it off. Finally, a like-minded person! You two would talk for hours about mers while processing various water samples below deck. Never once have you felt like someone truly understood you when you gushed about the subtle dietary variations among pods, or the courtship rituals of snail mers.

You began to suspect, with each passing conversation that gaz was...well. yours.

Hard to confirm, when gaz is always completely covered. Hates the cold, he tells you. It's rude to just ask, so you wait. No rush, you like him anyways. When you get funding to follow a specific mer across the ocean as a long-term data collection process, of course gaz tags along.

Ghost, the lone orca mer without a pod.

He's...shockingly sociable after the first month. Swimming alongside the boat while you and gaz film. Technically you're not supposed to touch the mers, but for once gaz isn't wearing gloves when he leans foreward to brush a hand along ghosts side. You can't see his soulmark, only your own, but...if it's there, it will light up when you touch.

You and gaz, soulmates on the same mission. The thought makes your heart flutter.

You reach out and your hand slips.

Instead your palm lies flat against ghosts side, and the distinct shape of a handprint reveals itself amongst the mers skin. It flashes brilliant white, no doubt caught from the multiple cameras.

You look down.

Your palm is flashing the same white.

Gaz has a tight expression on his face, somehow both let-down but horribly excited because your soulmate is a fucking mer!

The chaos that ensues is politely summarized in the notes as "both scientists deliberated on the best course of actions." Which, as gaz points out, is...technically true for the panicked yelling you both shared while ghost drifted alongside the boat in confusion.

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just shark hybrid!ghost who gets so stressed when he finds out secretary!reader is menstruating...

He smells it on you when you first step onto base, distinct and yours without a doubt. Ghost stops mid-conversation with price just to hunt you down.

You don't even make it to your office before a rough hand is grabbing you by the shoulder, wrenching you back to face ghost with a scowl. "You're hurt. Why aren't you in medical."

You frown at ghost, try not to snap because he's your kinda your boss, "what? No I'm not? Are you okay, sir?"

"You reek of blood, kid," ghost grunts, spinning you around to look for any obvious injury "much more than a papercut."

....no way. You look at ghost, coming to the mortifying realization he's serious. With a grimace, you say "ghost...I'm....I'm on my period."

For a second you think he might actually gasp, eye's wide and hands flying off of you into a sign of surrender. His face is so red it practically glows. "Christ– sorry kid. I'll uh. Leave you to it."

He retreats swiftly and you think that's the end of it. A bit of embarrassment but whatever.

That is, until you come back to your office after a bathroom break to find a five pound bag of chocolate on your desk. It's sat right on the edge, as if ghost deliberated with himself whether or not to leave it. Alongside the...honestly nice chocolate, is a bottle ibuprofen and some water.

You wouldn't know it, but ghosts been pacing the base all day, unable to settle down. He can usually ignore the scent of blood, surrounded as he is with people training and the whole medical wing but...it's different with people he cares about. His instincts keep screaming about the pup being hurt.

Yes, ghost spent his lunch frantically searching how to help with periods, then drove to the nearest shop just to grab you stuff. Yes, he felt weird and awkward dealing that stuff but he wants to help. Ghost can handle brutal executions and torture...a period shouldn't be hard.

You start to think its a bit overkill when two more five pound bags show up in your office. How much does he think you'll need in a day?!

[sodiumvaporss]

i do have to say that no matter how shitty any sort of media is or how shitty your own creations are. always remember

[writing-prompt-s]

Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.

[dycefic]

Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.

She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.

So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.

“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”

She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”

“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”

“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”

“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”

Keep reading

[eldritch-spouse]

God the new hybrid looks so stinkin sweet. Just want to climb into his lap and put my face in his neck. He can grind into me all he wants. I just want to hold and be held by him.

You think you can hear his heart thundering behind that hard, almost rocky chest. The monster's hands are fixed on your form, one grabbing the meat of your ass, the other ghosting over the curve on the small of your back. Large wings shield you from the world. A loud, satisfied rumble echoes, vibrating you slightly.

There's an air of tension in the room.

With the lights off, sound and touch amplify every minute change between you, and the way his smooth breathing pattern occasionally hitches lets you know there's a jolt of impulse this monster is carefully containing, maneuvering away. You think you know why.

It's the first time you have initiated contact.

Usually, the hybrid is the one either snaking his hands around your form or whispering for you to let him do so. He comes to you on his own terms and lays his desires on the ground, hoping to be welcomed.

Last time, you told him when to arrive. And you took the initiative of sitting on his lap.

Where this hybrid was once recognizable for his bursts of spontaneous, wanton touch- He now seems frozen. To move much is to chance having you shift away, so he only stirs the waters from time to time, holding onto you and enjoying the contact freely given.

You're not sure if you find this amusing or endearing. Both, likely.

He may be hoping you continue to lead.

" You know you can turn the lights on, right? "

A vaguely frustrated suggestion. It's not as if you don't know what Nerebus looks like by now. It's not like you haven't felt him, talked, gotten to know the monster enough to embrace his presence. It's unclear why he continues to prefer shadows and darkness to shroud himself in.

" It's easier to see you this way... "

He rumbles, and it feels like a half-truth.

Instead of pressing, you remove your head from the monster's shoulder and lean to watch his face, taking in the sole source of color and illumination that are his shielded eyes. Beautiful swirls, always dancing between the deepest blue and a mischievous yellow.

He meets your silent admiration through the veil that clutches onto his horns, blissful seconds, then firmly rotates your head when the first shiver of unease rolls down your back.

" You test yourself. " A huff.

" I'm not afraid of you. " It sounds petty, especially as you consider biting the finger that's closest to your lips.

" Your body is. "

" Yeah well... That's not the only thing it is right now. "

The soft, caressing fingers that cushioned you against him become warning, playful scrapes.

He pulls you closer still, and the start of his guiding motions on your hips is so subtle that you don't even question it.

Blind hands reach forward, grasping the jewelry that adorns his chest. It feels heavy, and yet the pull of it doesn't deform that sturdy anatomy. Traits typical of a concubus, though he has revealed to not be quite one. Still, you allow your body to be moved sweetly, playing with the texture of the chains that lead to his pendants.

" Do you like them? "

He murmurs, a bit quietly, like he fears the answer.

" They're beautiful on you. " The compliment is punctuated with a small tug, a test. His chest does not have a lot of give.

" Thank you. "

But the shudder in his tone suggests he feels it all the same, pressing you down on his lap slightly harder. Nerebus rolls his hips, and you pretend not to notice.

" For how much you like to decorate yourself, I'm surprised you don't have anything like a collar. "

He does not miss a beat, you would have laughed about it had your breath not started catching by now.

" Would it please you? "

... Would it?

A series of images flash through your mind's eye.

The following chuckles are only a little mocking.

" You don't need to answer me now, I can always wait for you. "

An otherwise subtle roll becomes outright grinding, quiet panting, a tightening of wings that suggests his patience is not as eternal as he makes it seem.

But he does not struggle for more, doesn't demand it of you. The monster just holds on, murmuring what you think might be promises of protection against your hair when you rest your head on the crook of his neck and close your eyes.

You feel so safe you could fall asleep like this.

[sunderwight]

"humans are space orcs" this and "humans are the jack-of-all-trades race" that and "humans are the ones with a reputation for trying to fuck everything" and etc but you know what I don't see too often?

humans are the moms

compared to other species on earth, humans have a really outsized "protect baby" instinct. you give a human a thing and tell them it's actually a baby thing and many humans will suddenly develop a complete and total aversion to harming it, even if it's like, a writhing mass of slimy tentacles in no way reminiscent of human infants

cats domesticated us by figuring out that they could leave their kittens with us when they went out hunting and come back and probably still have the same number as before they left. there is a decent chance that wolves did the same thing

word gets around the less parenting-inclined species and they're just like, are you doing a long haul space voyage? going to have to lay some eggs in the course of the trip? take a few humans with you. yeah they'll just start training the young and keeping from them climbing into the machinery themselves you don't even have to find specialists. I know a guy who budded unexpectedly on a freight hauler halfway through a four year trip, and not only did the humans not eat his spawn, they set up this thing called "babysitting" where they'd take turns monitoring its survival and helping to teach it basic skills

hazard is that if you're going anywhere with xenofauna, you have higher than normal odds of the humans trying to smuggle some weird creature aboard ship, though. you gotta watch 'em. on their own homeworld their officials have to put up goddamn signs telling them not to feed dangerous wildlife or try to touch the babies. most of 'em do understand the regulations and about potential bio hazards but there always seems to be at least one that loses their goddamn minds because some avian chick got caught in a mudslide or something

[wumbsie]

needy little rock

[rawme-price]

Thinking about everyone on base being horrified by how secretary!reader talks to price....

How could they not? John price is a man to be respected if not feared. Even higher ranks than him know he's only still a captain because he prefers to get his hands dirty himself. No one wants to mess with a man like that.

Then there's....you. the new secretary.

"John. Your paperwork." You tell him every morning, dropping the files on the table in the mess hall without much thought. The first time you did it, people genuinely flinched.

No one calls captain price john.

You have no care or respect for his rank, treating price as a casual coworker and not the weapon he is. Always a "john. I want my vacation time approved by this weekend." Or "your breath smells like coffee, john. You want some gum?"

People are convinced price is planning to kill you. No other option when you keep blatantly disrespecting him.

Of course the team notices it too. Worse though when they notice you still call ghost "lieutenant" and kyle and soap "sergeant"

"Doesn't it bother you, sir? The blatant disrespect?" Kyle asks one night at the bar, after price had mentioned you again.

"bother me? Why the hell would it bother me?" Price snorts, takes a bite of the crisps from ghosts plate "My wife can call me whatever she wants."

...

......

"You're married?!"

[rawme-price]

Thinking about reader exclusively referring to ghost as "the missus"...

Really, it started as a joke. A little teasing jab at ghost for always being so soft with you, more affection than malice when you chose the title.

Offered anonymity, too. When other soldiers were talking about their sweet things at home, you could slip right in with "the missus is the same with me. Clinging to me all the time." Instead of mentioning lieutenant riley and having to explain why you, as a sergeant, are dating ghost.

That doesn't stop the fact ghost blushes bright red when you casually comment "the missus loves it when I'm big spoon. Settles her down right quick." At the breakfast table. Or when you snort at prices usual complaint about his wife and add "my darling gifts me stuff too. It's so cute, her little crafts, keeps the missus occipied."

Ghost should be embarrassed by it. He's a 6 foot fuck-around giant of a man who's killed more people than he cares to count. His skin is rough with callouses and scars and no one would ever describe him as pretty.

Except....except you do. You call ghost your "pretty little missus." And you...mean it?

It makes ghosts stomach flutter in a weird way. He likes being your missus. The idea that he even could be something soft and tucked away from war like all the other soldiers wives are.

Ghost makes eggs for you in the morning the same as he always does, but smiles to himself about acting like your missus. He cuddles you in bed, he tries to bake you cookies. He's domestic and soft and everything simon has never been allowed to be.

When you call him "missus" ghost feels...seen. loved. It's...nice.

[rawme-price]

Imagine being the new sergeant of the 141, skilled beyond your years and younger than gaz, right?

Poor price, he's many things but he's not subtle, at least no to the people who has literally seen him be tortured. Of course his men notice how price's gaze lingers on the blood spattering your tac-vest. How you load a gun efficiently and fall into formation with thick submission to his words. It's obvious he wants you.

Gaz is the one who starts the...nickname.

Just a teasing remark whenever price spends too long eyeing you up, a jab at the boss to keep things smooth. Nothing worse than ghost the things ghost names soap. Of course you hear it too, you have the same comms as everyone else.

It's not an issue...until you need to address price on the general comms of a major operation.

You, poor you, the young sergeant who's a bit naive having skipped years of experience for raw talent. You assumed that silly name was a callsign, a fatal mistake you don't realize until you key in on a tactics conversation.

"Ghost, if you take point, me and cradlesnatcher can run ahead–"

A horrible choking sound cuts you off, followed by dead silence.

....

Then, laswells voice, completely void of anything but judgment "....cradlesnatcher? Really, john?"

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just ghost being wary of affection...until he's asleep.

Waking ghost is always so wary around you, his civilian partner who won't bounce back if he has an episode around you. Not like his teammates who he's forced to practice sparring with until he knew they could keep themselves safe.

Until he can get you to that point, ghost is....restrained. his affection comes with safety gaurds. He never truly sinks into your kisses, never loses himself in pleasure when he fucks you dumb. Waking ghost is a man living behind bars. You can only slip your hand through the gaps and wish they were not there at all.

But even ghost is a human, broken as he may be, he can't be vigilant forever.

At night, when you both sleep side by side in bed, all of ghosts desires come up in a sort of sleep-walking trance. He holds you tighter than he ever does when awake, entire warm body pressed to your front and his nose in your hair. You cherish these soft moments with him, wondering if he dreams of you when his muscles relax and he melts into the hug.

Of course, your boyfriend has...other needs.

Which is how ghost ends up sleepily rolling on top of you one night, all two hundred and fuck off pounds of him pinning you to the bed while his chub rubs against you.

"Fuck– again, simon?" You mumble, only half-awake when he repositions to rub right against your crotch, properly hard now. Your own cock twitches in interest, grinding up as best you can when ghost is putting his full weight on you.

Ghost mumbles something in his sleep, large hands coming down to pin your hips to the bed. You only get a moment to brace before he starts rutting against you, sleepy and desperate and so different from the ghost you know.

You're half tempted to try and fish both your cocks out and hold them together for a better slide, but then ghost begins to pant in your ear and any thoughts of risking waking him up are quickly vanished.

Ghost humps you like nothing more than an animal seeking pleasure, no sign of restraint, all groans and creaking bedframe. There's a wet patch on his boxers from where he's no doubt drooling pre.

"Mmm–...mm...love you...." ghost mumbles in his sleep just as his hips stutter, wet patch growing significantly while he rides out the pleasure and just barely pushes you over too. You bask in the feeling, mind sticky with how heavy ghosts arousal feels when it's targeted at you without a barrier.

....the afterglow is quickly cut short when ghost properly falls back in to deep sleep on top of you and you come to terms with the fact you won't be changing your boxers anytime soon...

[greenfinchg-illustration]

🩵🤍💙

[rawme-price]

The concept of reader wearing a lot of jewelry and accidentally setting off dragon!prices instincts...

You wear all your jewelry stacked. Multiple bracelets on each arm, minimum three necklaces and as many rings as you can get away with. It's your style, and you enjoy showing off your collection of accessories.

Unfortunately, price takes on look at you and his instincts say *baby. Fledgling. Little hoard.* because in his mind, you're hoard is so small you carry it around like a kid carries their favorite blanket everywhere.

Meaning price....tends to baby you before he can catch himself.

Small things, like leaving an extra snack from the vending machine on your lunch tray. Or encouraging you to leave early most days when the weather looks poor for your commute. Price has never been particularly broody....but he doesn't feel awfully maternal watching you take your rings off to leave in a little pile of treasures before eating a meal.

If a few more treasures pile on your desk, you don't say anything. It's...nice being his fledgling or whatever. You like it.

[rawme-price]

Love how you make ghost the designated baby sitter™️ of the teams kids

Guys ghost is actually SUCH a good babysitter!!! >0<

He doesn't do baby talk with the kids, gives them the respect they deserve and all that, yes. But by virtue of being a traumatized guy who wears a skull mask, he is just off putting and strange enough that kids love him.

Prices daughter never wants to hear about his stories, but the second ghost says "reminds me of when yer father nearly lost a leg to a moose." Suddenly she's all ears. He's also much more willing to go along with the bit. Yeah, if kyles little six year old wants him to lie on the floor and be a caterpillar, then he's the best damn caterpillar in the country.

Unfortunately ghost never wants children of his own. He insists that he's not cut out to be a father, completely missing how much of a cornerstone he is for the children in his life. How much they rely on him.

[rawme-price]

Thinking about roomate!ghost being free use because, being legally dead, you end up paying his portion of rent too.

Except...he...doesn't really care whenever you do decide to use him.

The whole situation sprang from a joke you made after he confessed he couldn't really pay rent, and instead of laughing it off ghost nodded and said "alroight. Deal." Well...ghost is a good looking man, and you've done worse things with your money.

The whole arrangement becomes shockingly normal.

Ghost is almost always woken up by you groping him or grinding on his thigh lazily, not yet awake and enjoying the haze. Or when he's having his morning tea, you'll be under the table sucking on his tip. Whether or not he gets hard is unimportant to you, but it is fun to watch him squirm when you use him soft.

You get six feet, three hundred pounds of prime meat to play with and you are not letting it go to waste. Ghost doesn't mind so long as you don't interrupt him too much.

Riding him while he watches a documentary, fingering him when he's reading a book in bed. Groping his chest, tummy, thighs all you want. There's not a moment that goes by without ghost sporting some sort of bruise from you.

It...does make for an awkward conversation when ghost invites his captain over and completely forgets to mention said invitation on the very day you decide to test out new dildos in the living room.

Captain price, in his good graces, stands in the hallway while ghost cleans up for twenty minutes.

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just 141!reader accidentally sending nudes to the group chat...

A series of nudes sent late into the night, followed by a cheeky "here's all of them, sir ;) hope you enjoy." That was so obviously not meant for them.

Yet, every one of your teammates, independent of speaking to eachother and each doing their own thing well into the night, opened the photos. Can't help them be curious, can you?

Christ, it seemed your photos were practically curated to their tastes.

Lacy white lingerie, fingers innocently rubbing at yourself through the fabric. The perfect blushing fiance for price. Bound in ropes and held against a vibe, the exact positions gaz fantasizes about putting you in.

In a semi-secluded hiking trail, showing off the base of a toy proudly. Soaps probably been in that exact place to jerk off, always loved the risk. Covered in bruises and blood, though ghost can hardly make it out on his shitty flip phone, he takes soaps phone for a quick wank the next day.

Really. They are trained SAS soldiers, they take down terrorists. Surely they should realize by now....

You've been carefully curating these photos for weeks now, just waiting on who will snap first and make you recreate one....