#/but i imagine things might go to shit quickly LMAO

[eggsmuses-a]

/i have the url ......... for the ttrpg ocs n i wanna write em ,,,, but we havent even started the campaign yet so i feel like thats useless JAGOAGSBZ

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

[mercy-burning]

A Weekend In Paradise (Summer of Sin Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: A couples' weekend vacation with Y/N, her fake boyfriend, her mom, and her real boyfriend, who also happens to be her mom's boyfriend... What could possibly be more relaxing? Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, cheating, female masturbation, kinda non-con (previously mentioned masturbation is happening while an unaware party is asleep in the same bed), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, omorashi/piss kink, daddy kink, "little girl" nickname, car sex, grinding, brief handjob, praise, biting/marking. (This one is pure fucking filth, y'all, buckle UP LMAO) Word Count: 7k

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know summer is literally over and we're all in autumn mode, but better late than never, right? ANYWAY, it's been an absolute pleasure re-reading this series and finishing it out with more shenanigans. These two and their messy asses are always so much fun to write, and I think about them all the time. In the timeline, this chapter takes place between parts 2 and 3 of “Your Favorite” if you want to put it in sequence with the other parts :) Have fun, and thank you for being patient with me. I hope this was worth the wait!

**********

FRIDAY

The only thing warmer than the blazing sun above me, the only thing that could burn me to the greatest extent until I was nothing but a pile of ash, is the way Spencer is staring at me right now.

Mom is reading a book quietly, laying her legs over his lap as they lounge on the loveseat, and Andrew is with me on the patio, rubbing sunscreen on my limbs. Even though we're far enough apart so no one can hear any conversation from the other party, the unspoken jealousy radiating from both Spencer and I is loud enough to drown out an entire concert venue.

Maybe it's cruel, and I'll probably catch shit for it later, but I can't stop smiling. It's easy for me to imagine that it's his hands gliding over my skin while I'm staring directly at him, and he's returning said stare with so much intensity that it might as well be magically willing my bathing suit to come off. Andrew's deft fingers tease the thin string at the edge of my hip and I laugh, playfully reaching back to swat at his hand.

"They're right inside, you know..."

He gets up to look, but still feeling Spencer's red-hot gaze, I quickly turn Andrew around and kiss him deeply, cradling his face in my hands and pressing into him with a laugh.

He pulls away just enough to speak. "Well, then let's go somewhere they aren't..."

"Mmm... Might be too obvious. He's smart, he'll know something's up if we're quick to run off."

"If you're quick to run off, you mean..."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just an innocent bystander..." Andrew leans in and pecks my mouth sweetly, his voice just as gentle when he speaks. "Your only goal this weekend is to taunt him, and he knows it." Another peck. "If you run off with me this easily, you figure he'll be onto our little scheme." And another. "But if you play it right and act all inconvenienced by my... urgency..." Another kiss, this one a bit longer and definitely more sensual. "He might just feel bad enough to make it up to you later."

"You think?"

"I don't actually know. Probably." He reaches for my hands and helps me off the lounge swing, and I feel wobbly. "But what I do know is that you think too much. That man wants you so bad, he's going to find a way to spend time alone with you this weekend, whether we're making out in front of him or not. Just... Loosen up. Have a little fun."

The two of us are attached at the hip as we sneak out of eyesight from the patio screen door, and from Mom and Spencer.

"Loosen up? Do you realize how serious this situation is, Andy? One wrong move and my life is over."

"Look. I'm not judging you, and it's none of my business. But you put yourself in this situation on your own. And I'm happy to help you out, but you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

He's not wrong. I could stop this at any point, and I could've from the start if I wanted to... But I don't want to, and that's just it. I've dug the hole, and if it means getting to spend time alone with Spencer for even the smallest amount of time, I'd gladly lay down and die in it.

So. 'Loosen up and have a little fun' it is.

I take a deep breath and smile up at Andrew, patting him on the shoulder. "Yes. I can do that."

———

"I can't do it."

"Mmmmm, you and I both know that isn't true. You've come much faster under more stressful circumstances. Should be easy for you."

He's not wrong, yet I can't help but frown at Spencer's request anyway. I've been in a shitty mood all day, despite my discussion with Andrew earlier on. It's nearing nightfall, and with hardly any attention from the person I wanted it from, to say I'm now desperate is a severe understatement. There's still some time left until the two of us can properly sneak away, but even so, we have a moment alone and all he wants is to watch me get myself off in the bathroom upstairs while Mom and Andrew set the table out on the porch for a small, late dinner.

"Yeah, but you usually help me with that..."

Spencer only grins at my whining, tilting his head as he stands at the sink with his arms crossed, watching my hand at work. "If you're going to flaunt your boyfriend at me all weekend, then you're going to deal with the consequences."

"You're fucking my mom, Spencer, and you flaunt it at me every fucking day of my life... Cut me some slack."

"Aw. You're grumpy."

"Fuck you."

"You wish, don't you?"

I huff and get up off the edge of the bathtub, flipping my skirt back down and shaking my head. "You know what, forget it. If you wanna be difficult, then you can suck my dick."

"I'm not giving you what you want until I watch you come."

"Whatever."

I breeze past him and shut the door, hoping he'll follow and pull me into a bedroom and just fuck me anyway, but deep down I know he won't. He's a man of his word. It's simultaneously the best and worst thing about him.

The rest of the evening passes by slowly, which only sours my mood even more every time I look at my phone and realize that only a few minutes have passed.

I'd thought at least maybe Spencer would ease up and take the role of "Eve's Loving and Devoted Boyfriend" to the bare minimum, however that's promptly not the case. I don't know if he's doing it to piss me off and get me to cave, or if he's just over my bullshit and being his genuine, caring self to the woman he's in a relationship with... Either way, I practically feel my insides boiling over and my face burning red. I'm jealous, I'm grumpy as he so eloquently put it, and I'm so sexually frustrated that I'm seriously considering just running off to my bedroom and pulling out a vibrator, Spencer be damned. Fuck his rules, fuck his 'consequences', and fuck this whole damned weekend straight to hell.

My eyes wander to the lounge swing where Spencer and Mom are almost falling asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, and an inordinately evil image etches itself into my brain. Evil might sound harsh, but it's truly the only accurate word I could use to describe the feeling as it runs its course through my bloodstream. And when the breeze picks up and cools me off, within a mere second I realize just how insane I'd be for even entertaining it.

Even as our two groups say our goodbyes for the night, and I recount the day's failure to Andrew just before he falls asleep, I'm still going back and forth.

Loosen up. Have a little fun.

The situation at hand is decidedly not fun.

That being said, the possible look on Spencer's face after I'd do what I'm thinking? Taking his rules and throwing them in his face? That sounds fun.

My mind is already made up by the time I reach their door, gently pushing it open and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, which isn't terribly bad to start with. There is a giant open floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the beach, and subsequently the moonlight reflects off the water and into the bedroom. It's still dark, but not enough to where I can't see where I'm going.

Each soft step I take sends my heart rate higher and higher until I reach my destination at Spencer's side of the bed. Call it what you want, but I figure it's damn lucky that he's facing towards the room and not towards my mom, otherwise waking him up would have been a much more difficult feat.

I brush strands of hair away from his forehead and then tap him gently on the nose. I almost think it won't work, but then he shakes his head and flutters open his eyes, and that's when my heart leaps straight out of my chest.

This just became real.

There's no going back now.

He's shocked to see me standing above him, obviously, and before he can say or do anything, I put a finger to his mouth and imitate a shh with my own.

I wait for his eyesight to adjust and for him to realize what my intentions are, and right before it happens, my finger lifts from his mouth and rests on his bare chest as I balance myself, lifting my right leg to the pillow, right next to his head.

There's a deep, concerned warning in his eyes, but it dissolves the second he glances down to see that under my thin silk nightdress there's no tangible barrier between himself and my slick cunt. Even if the darkness prevents him from getting the best look, it's not a secret what I'm doing. My right hand drapes down as I start to touch myself gently, and fortunately it doesn't take long to start feeling that familiar sharp ache of desire pulsing through my lower half. Spencer's wide eyes and heavy breathing tacked on to the sheer danger I'm putting myself in to do this have made me wet in an instant.

I force myself not to think about the sleeping woman next to him and instead keep my eyes locked with his. It feels almost like a dream, like if I get distracted and lose his gaze then I will be doomed to lose it for good, and no matter how hard I try to remember it when I wake, it will be nothing but a distant feeling. The stakes right now have quite literally never been higher.

Now, there are a lot of things I'm not proud of. Helping my mom's boyfriend cheat on her is probably the biggest offender for obvious reasons. But as I've learned, sometimes those things end up being totally worth it.

Faking an orgasm also happens to be one of those things.

It's risky, I know. Spencer is the smartest person I know. It's not a stretch to believe that he could call my bluff. I also happen to be unfortunately seasoned in the art of faking orgasms (thankfully due to my time seeing men before sleeping with Spencer). The determination I have to get him to fuck me before this first night of our vacation is over is the cherry on top of my evil scheme.

So, I rock my hips into my hand, lock eyes with Spencer, and fake the fuck out of it. And thankfully, faking being quiet in this particular situation is ten times easier than faking being loud. It's a fool-proof plan.

I barely 'finish' before Spencer grabs my wrist and softly sits up in the bed. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, because his face doesn't even twitch. It almost looks like he's angry, but I have a hard time believing he would be. It could also be the concoction of desperation and anxiety coursing through my nervous system making me make that up. Either way, I know I'm going to find out very soon.

Spencer gets out of bed quietly, dragging me behind him. He shuts the bedroom door with barely any sound, and it's impressive considering he'd just woken up a few minutes ago. I suppose though, a man on a mission is a man on a mission no matter how drowsy; The moment we're down the stairs and out the back door to the porch, he's backing me up to the table where we'd eaten dinner, my legs nearly buckling before he lifts me up and sets me down on top of it.

"You're insane," he whispers, closing the gap between us just a millisecond after.

I welcome his kiss and melt into him, snaking my arms over his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his waist. He tilts his head hungrily, deepening the kiss, and I can't help but groan at the inclusion of his tongue.

"Insanely irresistible," I finally counter back when we part for air.

He kisses me again, quickly, adding, "Insanely bratty," and then he reaches down to touch the heat between my legs. I've gone long enough without it that I involuntarily drop my head back with a sigh of relief at his touch, breathing out, "Fuck, I need you..."

I half-expected him to keep bantering with me, but instead he leans forward and latches onto my neck, surely leaving hickeys behind as his fingers work inside me. It feels good, but it's not enough. I need more.

More...

I hadn't even realized I'd been breathlessly chanting the word into the air until Spencer groans and removes himself from me to pull his lounge pants down far enough to free his erection and slide into me with ease. He swallows my moan with his mouth, holding himself inside me and kissing me so deeply I can barely breathe. The cool night air sends a blanket of chills over my limbs, and for a moment in time, it's just me, him, and the ocean crashing beside us.

It's almost like we become a part of it, wave after wave of pleasure and relief passing through us with each harsh crash of water over sand. Skin against skin, tongue over lip and tooth.

We could have been out there for hours, and I wouldn't have known any different. All I know for sure is that it's me and Spencer. Just as it should be.

Even after we both reach our end, we remain still in our embrace, my limbs weak but still wrapped around him. Safe. He strokes the back of my head and kisses me lazily, drawing out every last ounce of happiness from my body and soul until he pulls away finally and I remember where we are. The situation at hand. How horrible I feel at what I'd just done in front of my sleeping mother.

God, you are so fucked up...

"You're right. I'm insane."

Spencer tenses at my words, then sighs. "I'm not any better."

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this," I confess. "I wish it was just me and you. I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I know, Y/N..."

He doesn't say anything after that, and I don't either. Part of me wants him to reassure me that everything will be okay, but the rational part of me knows deep down that I don't deserve it. Also that it probably wouldn't even work anyway.

I'm too far into this pit of hell for any kind of redemption, and I'm just going to have to deal with it.

Which is why, when Spencer walks me up to my bedroom and gently kisses me goodnight after helping to clean me up, I simply slink away to bed and will myself to sleep, feeling completely numb despite getting exactly what I wanted.

SATURDAY

"Pancakes are done!"

I feel miles better than I did yesterday, maybe because Spencer had padded into my room early this morning to uh... Pay me back for the stunt I pulled last night. I couldn't deny the smile on my face when I woke to his body standing over mine, palming himself through his pants as Andrew slept soundly next to me.

Rather than watch him though, I quietly sat up and lent him a helping hand.

And mouth.

Whatever negativity we'd encountered yesterday had magically vanished, and now I can't help but feel like it's going to be a good day.

It also helps that Andrew made pancakes and bacon.

"These look great, Andy," Mom compliments, sitting down at the head of the table. "Better than mine."

"Nonsense," I tell her. "Yours have confetti sprinkles."

"Yes, but they're always burnt." Spencer kisses the side of her head as he stands behind her, but his eyes are on me, an evil grin on his lips. "No offense, Dear."

I want to strangle him.

"Not all of us can be masters of the frying pan... But I try."

"You do great, Mom, don't listen to him. He may know everything, but he doesn't know everything."

He feigns hurt, putting a hand over his heart and pouting, and I can't help but smile. Mom does, too, and for a moment, it feels like we can all get along without complicated feelings and desires putting a damper on our weekend.

Andrew fixes up his plate last, and when he sits down next to me, his hand finds mine under the table, tapping my palm twice—our signal for "everything good?"

I tap his back, a confirmation that for right now, I'm okay.

Breakfast is enjoyable, and I don't know what the day will bring, but I don't have any panic or dread settling in my bones, and Spencer and I aren't staring daggers into the back of each others' heads, so until that point arises again I decide to stuff my mouth with food and just revel in the calm.

Mom perks up as we're finishing the last few bites of our plates. "There's a big flea market a few towns over today, I thought we could go check it out after breakfast. It's supposed to be a nice half-hour drive along the coast, and they've got live music and tons of food."

"Mmm, sounds great, Mom," I say through a bite of food, swallowing it before continuing. "Maybe on the way back we can stop somewhere and get stuff to finish the patio."

Grandma's beach house is nice, but it's old, which means the patio screens are littered with holes and other wear and tear. Part of the reason we'd decided to come here was to make it look nice and figure out what repairs need to be done before we help her sell it, and that patio needs... Well, it needs a little more than some new screen-doors, but that was the start.

Spencer nudges my foot under the table and speaks up. "I don't do so well in the car after I eat, so I can actually stay back and start working on getting the porch cleared out and take measurements for what you need if you want to go ahead without me."

"Oh, are you sure, Honey?" Mom grabs his hand. "We can wait a little to go if you want."

"Really, it's okay. It's a beautiful morning, you should take advantage of it. I'll take the other car and meet you there in an hour or two."

"Well, okay, if you're sure. I just feel bad leaving you behind..."

He nudges me under the table again.

"I can stay and help," I offer then, suddenly feeling my chest warm up from the inside at the opportunity. Then it's my turn to do the nudging. I tap Andrew's hand under the table and look at him. "I mean, you don't mind hanging out with my mom for a bit, do you?"

I'm so glad he's quick at catching on. And I will love him forever for what he's doing for me. I make a mental note to send him gift baskets for life when he nods and gives my mom his best smile. "I don't mind at all."

I turn to Mom. "Yeah, I'll call you when we've got everything handled and then Spencer and I can just meet you guys down there." I turn to him then, hoping to make it seem more like a natural development of a last-second plan rather than an evil scheme. "If you want the company, that is. I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

He smiles. "I don't mind the help at all, but it's totally up to you and your mom."

Mom practically fawns over her boyfriend and grabs his hand with a lovesick pout, which makes me feel really bad for what we're probably about to do the second she leaves. "No, I think it'll be good for you two to spend some time together. It makes me happy to see my two favorite people getting along."

"Then it's a perfect plan for me," Spencer beams at her, kissing the back of her hand.

———

We wait until we can't see the car anymore, until it's so far in the distance that we're positive we won't be seen. Spencer wants to wait longer in case Mom decides she forgot something and needs to come back, but I know that Andrew will text me if anything happens. Spencer is right here next to me, his hand steady on my lower back as he guides me through the house.

We're alone, not doing anything yet, and it feels like torture.

So on the way to the bedroom, I squeeze his hand and depart, hoping to kill some time—to ease his mind as well as my anxiety.

"I'm gonna pee quick and then you can have your way with me, yeah?"

Spencer reaches out for my hand again, pulling me to him and not letting me go, a glint of something mischievous in his eye. It shocks and excites me simultaneously. "But I want my way with you now."

His lips are on mine, and he's backing me into the wall, picture frames gently rattling in the hallway once my back is flush to the drywall. I melt into him with a laugh.

"We have time," I tell him between kisses, trying to get away. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"No," he grunts, kissing me again, deep and earnest.

I whine at the excitement that burns in the pit of my stomach, but I also do really have to pee. "Spencer, please."

"Hold it," he demands through gritted teeth, kissing my neck and then slotting his knee between my legs.

I clench instinctively, and I can't help but test the waters. "Or what?"

"Or I can tell your mother what a bad girl you were today. So unhelpful, wasting my time and giving me back-talk. She'll be so disappointed in you."

"Wow, Spence. Threatening me with my mother, how kind of you," I retort, even though his words are undoing me. I grind down on his leg and feel my bladder pulse with need. My teeth grit when he bites down on my shoulder.

"I'm a kind man."

"Kinda mean, maybe," I whimper.

"Not really. All you have to do is hold it, pretty girl. That's all I ask."

His knee lifts higher and I moan to the air. "Fuck. Spencer, I don't think I can."

"You will."

I have a brief moment of reprieve when he drops his leg, but it doesn't last long because he brings his hand down in its place, deft fingers slipping under the band of my shorts and toying with my clit.

"That's not fair," I sigh, weaving my fingers through his hair.

He smiles, nipping at my jaw. "Aw, poor thing."

His fingers are relentless, rotating between flicking at my clit and plunging into me and spreading me apart, and it's making it extremely difficult to do what he's asking. I feel an orgasm building rather quickly, but I can't quite tell if that's just because I'm so turned on, if it's my bladder, or both. My thighs are trembling and the pressure is getting tighter.

"Fuck, I— I can't... I'm g—onna..."

The orgasm rips through me beautifully, a brand new feeling that I have to sort-of subside to keep from completely letting go all over his hand, but I can't help it. My hips cant back and forth, and I feel my shorts warm a little as I come down, and suddenly I clench my legs together, whimpering and stopping myself from continuing. The pressure hasn't let up at all, and now it's even harder to hold back.

"I'm sorry... I'm... I'm still trying."

Spencer captures my mouth in a tender, teasing kiss as he coos, "I know... You're trying so hard." His fingers glide through me softly, and then they're gone and taking my bottoms with them. The fabric falls to the floor, and soon his pants are gone, too.

"Can you hold it a little longer, sweetheart?"

"I can try," I sigh out in one quick breath, looking down and already feeling overwhelmed at the sight of his erection.

I'm not going to last long.

Spencer turns me around and bends me at the waist, using one hand to wrap around me and rub my clit as the other guides himself into me from behind.

I yelp, then groan as he fucks me hard.

My face is pressed flat against the wall, and I try to focus on that feeling instead of this new angle and all the pressure it's putting on me. I'm clenching so hard, and Spencer is loving every second.

"God I love how tight you are, trying to be good for me..."

I want to tell him to stop talking, because his words always push me over the edge, but I have to focus so hard on nothing but this goddamn wall in front of me to keep from making a mess. And with each searing thrust he throws my way, that just becomes harder and harder.

He shifts a little and hits a particularly good spot, making me yell again as I relax and start to lose control— but only for a second. I still want to try, so I clench again and whine as I feel the warm liquid roll down my leg and the beautiful burn I'm feeling.

Spencer groans and goes harder then. He wants me to break, and honestly, it might not be long until I do.

"I know you want to, little girl," he tempts, sliding his hand up to press on my bladder. "Am I making it harder for you? Huh?"

If I could punch him, I would, but I'm afraid all I can do is beg him for release, the pressure almost too much. But because I still like to make things difficult and I'm not completely fucked dumb yet, I decide to add some flare.

"Please, Daddy, can I let go?" I whine, and he pauses with one of his own. I feel his hand slide off my stomach and weave through the roots of my hair instead, pulling me up to meet him.

He whispers hotly in my ear, "If you want to act like a greedy little slut, then by all means. Go right ahead..."

It's hard to tell what his intentions are after we move on from this position, but right now, I don't really care. Because no matter what consequences come with it, it's still permission all the same, and I'm not going to last much longer anyway.

"But I'm not going to keep fucking you through it. That's on you."

There it is.

So, what?

He stays inside me, hard and pulsing with need anyway, so I rock myself back and forth on him and reach down to rub my clit as I bring myself to the edge again. I keep trying to hold it until I'm ready to orgasm, and thankfully that doesn't seem to take very long.

Within seconds, I'm coming. I feel it all with a shout, letting my body tense and release, and Spencer grabs my hips to keep me from falling over. His blunt nails digging into my skin only add to the insane pleasure that courses through my body, and then the dam breaks not long after.

I let go in small spurts, still trying to have some control over how I do this, because I still want to drive him mad. So I turn my head and try to look at him, throwing his words in his face.

"I know you want to fuck me through it, Daddy... I'm still trying to hold it for you, so you can. Please..."

"Fuck," he hisses, giving up and pushing me to the wall again. He snaps his hips back and then forward, and it takes all I am not to scream at how good it feels.

This time I really let it all go, allowing myself to relax and revel in all the sensations coursing through me. Just like I wanted, Spencer fucks me through every second of it, until I have nothing else to give but mindless whimpers of over-stimulation and gratitude.

I don't even realize I'm coming again until my body jolts with the sensation, and then Spencer follows, running his hands along the backside of my body anywhere he can reach as he does.

Once we're both tired enough, he pulls out and gently turns me around to face him. I almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but he's pressing me to the wall again and kissing me before I can protest.

I don't know how long we stand there and make out, but eventually I shiver, feeling cold and... dirty. Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't regret it, because it was hot as fuck, but... Now? In this moment, after the fact?

I pull away from him and sigh. "You should have just let me go to the bathroom. Now we gotta clean this up."

Spencer ponders for a moment, looking down between us and then back up at me before shrugging with a shit-eating grin.

"I told you to hold it. Maybe you should work on listening to me."

I punch him in the arm, and he laughs.

"In your dreams, old man."

———

Evening comes in the blink of an eye, and I swear it's the happiest I've ever been. Sneaking out of the house like a teenager in love with someone she knows is fundamentally wrong for her is probably the most accurate way to describe what's happening, though Spencer is only wrong for me in a completely different way.

All the same, no matter the reason, he makes it hard to remember why.

It feels so good—so deliciously right—after all.

And how couldn't it; I'm absolutely elated, heart beating wildly as I race down the highway with the windows all the way down. Spencer squeezes my hand, trying to let loose, but I can tell he's utterly terrified by my speed. It makes me laugh.

When I finally pull over into a small clearing some miles down a random side-road and put the car in park, he sighs. "Where are we?"

"Dunno. But it's secluded. Moonlit. Romantic."

Each word that escapes me is punctuated with a kiss on each of his fingers.

"It's... Unsettling."

I can't help but laugh again, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing over to his lap. He shifts uncomfortably but helps me straddle him anyway, rolling the seat back as far as it can go as I tease him with neck kisses.

"Are you afraid of the dark, old man?"

He groans my name in warning when my teeth bite down on his shoulder. I know I can't mark him. It upsets me greatly, but I have to at least give myself a little taste.

So, when his hands tighten around my waist, I whine and settle for his lips. I kiss him eagerly, and by the way he's responding, any qualms about being in this "unsettling" location seem to have vanished. His hands roam my body reverently and eventually help guide my hips as they rock into him with desperate conviction.

I welcome his tongue with my own and thread my fingers through his hair, already feeling the heat of the summer air cling to my body as the air conditioning dissipates. The windows are already starting to fog.

Spencer notices my urgency and breaks apart with a hum of amusement. "What's the matter?"

"I want out of these damn clothes."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

I don't even have the energy to tease him back. He's giving me what I want with no obstacles other than the fabric between us, and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

It's a little difficult in such a cramped space, but eventually I am completely bare in front of him, save for my underwear. I've removed Spencer's shirt, but his slacks are still on, and I'm in the process of helping him out of them when he laughs again.

"What?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing... I'm just surprised you even wore any underwear to begin with. Surely you knew what was going to happen tonight..."

I roll my eyes, but my smile never wavers. "Do you or do you not remember how this whole thing started? You love my underwear, and you love taking them off of me... I did this for you."

In agreement, he tenderly slips his middle finger under the seam and pulls the fabric to the side, and I nearly whine as he looks me over, the corner of his bottom lip pinched gently between his teeth. He's so fucking hot it physically hurts me. It makes me pathetic.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he finally offers, dragging a careful finger through my seam. I gasp at the sensation and feel myself start to tremble when he gently flicks at my clit. It's so featherlight, barely a touch at all, but still enough to drive me mad.

I need him. Now.

"Anything for you," I breathe, lunging forward to kiss him again. He welcomes me with fire instead of the amusement I'd almost expected from him. Usually, it's a dig at my eagerness, but tonight he's just as eager, just as needy, and the equal reciprocation has me in shambles.

It doesn't take long to find my way to him. I've finally managed to free his erection from fabric confines, and instead of fully sitting on him, I slick him up with my arousal, grinding along the length of him as he leans his head back and curses to the air. The friction is low-simmering and beautiful, and nowhere near enough to get myself off, but that doesn't matter to me right now. It just feels so good, and seeing Spencer tensing and twitching beneath me, feeling his hands tighten over my breasts as I rock back and forth... Reveling in this tension before truly giving into our carnal desires is honestly just as good as the sex itself. If I could etch this feeling, this erotic slow-burn of a moment, into my soul for all eternity, to remember in vivid detail for as long as I was alive and breathing, I would.

I'm so wet, so hot with sweat and aching with desire for this man, I can barely stand it.

My hand reaches down between us and takes him in a firm grip. I stroke him slow and tight, to which Spencer hisses, forcing himself to look down as he shakes his head.

"Fuck, you're perfect..."

The genuine praise makes me tremble again, warmth flooding my bloodstream. I start to quicken my pace, but his hand reaches down to grab my wrist.

"We have to get out of this damned car."

Before I know what's happening, he's opening the door and exposing us to the open air. He leads me outside, then opens the back door and guides me to the back seat, laying me down on my back. I lean up on my elbow to watch as he towers over me, sliding his pants all the way down and watching me with hungry eyes.

I can't help the urge that overtakes me then, readjusting my underwear again so that I'm exposed to him. Ready. Still, no teasing from him about how ready I am. There is only fire burning behind his gaze and a determination to make me feel every single flame as it dances brightly over my skin.

I can tell just by looking at him right now, barely illuminated by the moon in the open sky above us, Spencer is going to absolutely ruin me.

He comes forward and reaches down, both hands tugging at my underwear until they literally tear at the seams. The sound is so jarring and unbelievably hot that feels almost pornographic. I've never been so turned on in my life. He knows it, too, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he tosses the tattered cotton away like it's nothing at all, then proceeds to adjust me to his liking, folding my knees up to my chest and giving himself the deepest angle he can possibly get.

"Ready?" he asks, that fire in his eyes telling me he already knows the answer.

"Always," I tell him, pulling him down to connect our lips.

He pushes into me then, a steady full movement that doesn't falter even once. I take it happily, humming into Spencer's mouth as he starts to move his hips. The car gently rocks underneath me, the smallest of creaks sounding under the upholstery. Between that and the snapping of his skin to mine, the crickets chirping in the background, and the thick, heavy whirring of our breathing being so close together in this small space, it truly does feel like the perfect summer night.

This is what summers are made for. Passion. Heat. Want. Wildfire. Pure sin...

That's what it is. Spencer's teeth leaving unashamed marks on my skin when I'm not allowed to return the favor as he fucks me in the backseat of my mom's old car, nothing around us but the moon, the stars, and the sweltering summer heat... There would be time for guilt later, when we return to the beach house, and possibly even along the drive there. But for now, I don't feel guilty. I'm completely aware of my surroundings, of my situation, and yet there's not an ounce of guilt to be found anywhere in this car.

That alone is the biggest sin of all.

SUNDAY MORNING / 2 A.M. / SPENCER

My limbs are barely awake when I shuffle down the hallway and sigh heavily at the sweet promise of a deep sleep. I feel tense, but I know that's only because I have to keep my departure a secret. I won't fully know peace until my head has hit the pillow and my consciousness has drifted away for the night.

Eve is an early riser. I won't get much sleep, but the few hours I will manage to round up will be worth it. And I'll go to sleep happy.

Y/N is still all over me, which is dangerous. Her aura, her smiles and her laughter, her sighs and her pleas, her fingernails trying not to leave marks on my back even thought it's all I want—All of it is such an enormous part of who I am now, that every second I'm in Eve's presence, I start to wonder if she can feel it. I hope not, but as a man who has proudly worn and reflected the attributes of every woman he's ever loved, it's a scary thought.

So scary, apparently, that it seems to have manifested a near-heart attack. I know I'm not actually having one, but the sharp pain I feel in my chest when I open the bedroom door and find Eve, awake and sitting in bed with a distant look in her eyes, for a split second, could have fooled me.

"You're up early," I say, closing the door and walking to my side of the bed. My heart is beating so fast, my nervous system working on overload to keep up with the amount of signals and sirens that are blaring in my brain.

Eve doesn't look at me, but responds somberly. "So are you."

How long has she been awake? "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. I wanted to take a drive..."

She hesitates for a moment as I climb into bed and nudge her leg with my own.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

No.

"Yes. I'm sorry if I worried you." I take her hand in mine, but she still can't look at me. It frightens me. "What's wrong?"

"I don't... I don't know... Something just feels weird, and I don't know what or how to explain it."

"Like... With the house?" I feign confusion, easily disguising the fear that lies underneath, and it seems to work; Eve concedes.

"No," she sighs, turning to finally look at me. Her eyes are tired, and she looks like she's embarrassed. "I don't know... I've been getting this weird feeling lately, and then you disappeared for a couple hours tonight, and I guess I just..."

She trails off, and I sigh, hoping to put her mind at ease. "Eve... You know I love you, right?" They're the right words to say, but they feel evil coming out of my mouth. They're... I don't want to say they're not true, because in some way I still do love her. But... Not how she wants me to. Not how she loves me back.

"I know," she cries apologetically, falling her head onto my shoulder with a dramatic thump. It's a mannerism that reminds me so much of her daughter, I feel another sharp twist in my gut. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There is nothing wrong with you," I comfort her quickly, squeezing her hand. "It's okay, I promise."

"No, it's not. It isn't fair for me to just assume you aren't happy in this relationship when you've done nothing to show otherwise, and then act all grumpy and accusatory. It wasn't right. I should have just talked to you about my... weirdness, and gotten it out of the way. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that," I tell her. I'm relieved that she still doesn't know the truth, but my heart is still racing and I can't seem to get those damn warning sirens to quiet in my head. "Still, I'm sorry for worrying you. I wasn't tired, and it seemed like a perfect night for a quiet, mindless drive."

"Mmm, you're right," Eve agrees, leaning into me and glancing out the window. She takes a deep breath and kisses my neck, right where her daughter had been only hours before. "Next time, invite me along?"

"You got it." It's an empty promise, but it makes her happy. It keeps her unassuming.

We fall asleep together, but my dreams belong to someone else.

[writers-reach]

I have a request for joker (could you use akira for the name please).

Something like his s/o is also in the phantom thieves and when they are in safe rooms she likes to do small braids in his hair, also while chilling out at leblanc maybe :3

Might be a silly request but I thought it was cute, have a great day!

persona 5: playing with his hair (akira kurusu/ren amamiya)

notes: akira kurusu for protag, fluff, fem!reader, reader is a phantom thief, this might be sliiightly inaccurate since i haven't touched p5 in a while and idc to check myself

you were grinding through mementos one day with the rest of the phantom thieves, and things were going pretty well! shadows were being slain, treasure was being looted, and you were overall having a fun time riding around in morgana's van form.

you were grateful, though, for makoto's recent membership of the team. she was better at driving the van than akira was (bless his heart), which meant she took the wheel while akira sat in the passenger's seat, telling her where to go.

you sat behind him in the second row of seats, often leaning your head on the seat in front of you, sometimes babbling to get akira's attention. he'd always reach back to ruffle your hair or playfully offset your mask.

but your attention always drifted to his hair - his soft and undoubtedly fluffy head of black feathery hair. you'd been together for a while, so physical interactions weren't uncommon, but you've never really asked him if you could play with his hair.

you really, really wanted to play with his hair. holy shit, you wanted nothing more than to do that. but now wasn't the right time, being in mementos and all. you'd have to strategise for another time.

thankfully, that time came when after leaving mementos, akira invited you back to leblanc to destress and chill out. he'd make some coffee, you two would chat and cuddle, probably watch some tv.

you accepted, obviously, and taking his hand in yours, led you through the subway system to yongen-jaya and to leblanc. after pouring the two of you a damn good cup of coffee, you two went upstairs to his room in the attic.

after watching a few episodes of that cheesy action show you two like to riff on (and getting the neo featherman r theme song stuck in your head), you two migrated to his bed. akira sat down and extended his arms, inviting you in for a spooning sesh, but you waved your hands in denial.

after a puzzled and slightly pouty look from your boyfriend, you clarified what you meant: "i wanna be big spoon. i kinda... wanna play with your hair? is that cool?"

akira's eyes lit up and he adjusted his glasses that slipped down his face. a slightly goofy grin played across his lips and he shuffled on the bed, allowing you to slot yourself behind him.

"yeah, sure! go right ahead."

you quickly got to work, running your hands through his hair (which was still surprisingly soft and felt like heaven's clouds within your fingertips). you twirled some strands around your digits here and there and massaged his scalp.

akira leaned his head back into your touch, smiling all the while. you could've sworn you heard him purring (maybe that was your imagination, or maybe he was spending too much time with morgana).

you pressed a kiss to the side of his temple and kept playing with his hair long into the night...

a/n: cat-coded joker ftw!!! also i love writing akira being more, like, a dork? i love his canon characterisation in the anime and it's not something i see often. you'll be seeing more silly goofy joker from me if y'all request it lmao

[gladiatorcunt]

you nailed how i imagined modern!feyd to be (batshit crazy) but you think he‘d let cute hello kitty reader put like stickers and bows on his motorcycle and stuff lmao? would he be an ass and be mean about it or would he allow it because reader is all sad and mopey otherwise 😔🎀 (maybe brat reader? like how would mans handle that in the modern au because in the canon verse pissing him off is a bit too scary) and alsoooo i laughed my ass off when you wrote he would debone coryo like a fish because yuh that twink (he could do bad things to me) wouldn’t stand a chance fr

he would actually make coryo so concerned, like they’re both from well off families (feyd just does underground fighting bc for the #love of the game) but coryo will be like “these poor people are CRAZY.” coryo gives off the vibes of he’d tell someone to kill for him (especially when he gets older, or he wouldn’t get his hands dirty if he does it himself & he’s methodical), feyd is tearing out throats with his teeth. he’d tackle his uncle and start stabbing, he’d gnaw his own arm off just for fun like you can’t compete where you don’t compare tbh. (coryo’s still my bf tho <3)

anyway,

cw: 18+ mdni, typical feyd warnings, spanking/pain play type stuff

modern!feyd would only let you put stickers on his bike if they’re the ones that are like hello kitty holding a gun or something. it’s not like he’s afraid that the softer ones will undermine his masculinity or anything, feyd’s ripping into other men with no real regard for keeping their bodies intact, it’s just that the cutesy stickers go on his helmet. he’ll let you tie a ribbon around his bicep and film videos of him flexing and making it pop off. he would wear matching pjs with you, but he doesn’t want to get blood on them so he sticks to his trusty sweats. he’s the kind of person to wear black in the hot summer sun because he’s spiteful enough to not give a fuck about heatstroke, like it’s something he could fight lmao. gets a matching dear daniel x hello kitty tattoo with you i fear, or a my melody x kuromi one since that’s more your dynamic.

brat!reader with canon era feyd does scare me to death, but with modern!feyd it’s fun to think about…. to a degree. like if you keep it up, he’s pausing the match and dragging you inside the ring to spank you in front of everyone. open palm strikes with half of his strength, if he used all of it your ass might fall off. his rings add even more sting. you learn quickly to know when to pack it up and throw in the towel, because he will NEVER be the one to test out your devious little ideas and macinations out on. he’ll shove a vibrator up your pussy and take you for a long ride on his bike, ignoring the way you try to hump him as he points out the sights he thinks you’d be interest in. weirdly punishes you by fucking nice and slow when you want your shit rocked, he doesn’t even edge you or anything, he just gives it you so soft and sweet and holds your hips down so you can’t try to buck them.

in some ways, you being at his matches has helped his abilities. (you do have to come to his fights btw, if you’re not there expect the rumble of his engine to be heard outside of wherever you’re at. feyd will get his unlce to cancle the match if you’re not there, he’s ultimately a certain kind of performer and if the key audience member isn’t there??? what’s the point.) he has to keep an eye on you, which helps him multitask. he’ll be punching some fuckin’ loser into an unrecognizable pulp while, out of the corner of his eye, making sure that no one’s trying to drag you into any wagers or into their cars. he’s curious if you could cum just from watching one of his fights, from hearing the agonized whimpers of his opponent as feyd effortlessly conquers them. something about you must be sick, because the more ruthless he is in a fight, the higher you’re jumping on him and the more marks you’re sucking into his neck.

you’re so clumsy with it, always putting too much teeth into your hickeys. but that’s just the way he likes it, because you know he’s actively holding back from biting you so hard that’s nearly cannibalizing you. (side note: loves gorey horror, nothing too funny or artsy, he likes shit that cares more about the pure carnage than quips or wide camera shots. hannibal is too “fancy” for him, he always asks you to explain what the fuck they’re talking about.) definition of mauling you like a bear, fucking him is like meeting God if they were an eldritch horror and you were on the brink of death. it is NOT for the weak, his thick arms holding you in a headlock as he pistons his gigantic cock into your cervix. he makes you cum until pass out, then he makes you do it again to wake you up. really good at resetting your brain if you need him too.

modern!feyd who gives you the ultimate scary guard dog priviledge. you’re going about your business in a store and he’s practically vibrating behind you, foaming at the mouth and waiting for some mf to try it with you so he can berserk. but no one ever takes the bait, just one look at his deranged ass and they’re swiftly turning on their heels and high tailing it out of the apple store (you’re taking too long to pick what color imac you want.) copies whatever pictures you saw on pinterest, acting as your little prop. wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat, mirror selfies where he’s holding you over his shoulder by your ass, gross close ups of his long tongue wrapped around yours, insta stories directed at paul specficially bc he won’t stay out of your dms. asks his opponents for date ideas while he’s beating their ass 💀, made his uncle organize a remartch (even though feyd won) with the guy who limped over to your adorably clad in pink form and asked you to get boba (because he noticed feyd giving you your favorite before his fights).

pierced dick, would sharpen his teeth and make his tongue forked. face tattoos + whatever piercing’s more painful. big in body mods overalls like he sees himself as an extension of his motorcycle that he’s always illeggaly modding, fast and furious type specs that no court of law would deem road safe. but he always devotes part of his brain to making sure you’re safe when you ride along with him, reaching behind him and his black painted nails rubbing comforting little circles into your plush thighs. ambidextrous by choice and practice, for sure has a cauliflower ear. whenever you’re sad and pouting, he’s grabbing your chin in between his thumb an pointer finger and lifting your head up so he lovingly teases you about being a crybaby and so he can lick your tears away. (and he doesn’t even do it with sexual intent, feyd’s genuinely just trying to consume your sadness directly since word’s aren’t his strong suit.) could fall asleep in an ice bath, has done it before, dad type snoring like you wouldn’t believe.

loves it when you ride him in any kind of water, you have to pack extra strength sun screen if you’re going to be out in the sun though bc he WILL burn more often than not. still has your pussy gorilla glue gripping his length though, there’s no pain on earth that would put him out of comission & that’s a promise.

[weebsinstash]

for the whole marriage thing, it would be kinda funny if you marry someone else out of spite, especially right after Miguel found out that you two were actually destined for each other.

You, out of breath and looking upset: Dude, this is gonna be a lot but, I need your help doing something to spite Miguel--

Hobie: don't even have to finish mate, you've already sold me on it

You: you and I need to get married because I wanna be my own person and rebel against Miguel because he wants US to get married but I don't want to because fuck him and fuck canon and I wanna choose my own destiny idk am I being dumb 🥺

Hobie, who Definitely Has Nothing To Gain Here Wink Wink: alright, that's what I'm talkin about, fuckin mental, let's do it 😌 fight the man ✊️

But no for real, you were actively avoiding relationships and suddenly Miguel hits you with "you and I are canon and I want to start getting to know each other better" and you're, I dunno, would "panic fucking" work. Would you be so bold. You're just trying to hook another person that YOU choose (and again Hobie would still apply here lmao) because, no, no, you can't let canon TRAP you like this!! And it would fucking suck if you had like, neutral or even negative feelings about Miguel. Shit, I've thought of, imagine being his FWB that he's actually catching feelings for but then the Miles Morales Incident happens and, you're just kind of disgusted how he acted, how he spoke to Miles, how he treated Gwen, but before you can officially tell him "hey, I want nothing to do with you anymore", that's when Miguel comes to you wanting to get more serious and he uh, does not accept you wanting to move on

I guess detouring into a different idea but imagine being kind of a FWB or fling of his that you kind of moved on from him from for whatever reason (he can have a temper, he can be too intense, you don't like when he did xyz, or maybe you're a free spirit and don't want to get serious and break things off when you feel he's too clingy) and he like. Cannot accept you've moved on. He's cockblocking you at the Spider Society bars n clubs and little holes in the wall where the adults go to drink and get together. By reputation alone, people know to avoid tou because Miguel wants you back, everyone still sees you as His Girl, like he's claimed you, but he still catches people dumb enough to get close to you (and I imagine his surveillance slips or he gets busy and you have a casual fuck under his radar and he sees hickeys or something on you later and goes ballistic)

But yeah gosh imagine like, he tells you up front you two are canon and not even 24 hours later you can notice the atmosphere has changed in the Spider Society with how people treat you in terms of respect, personal space, not being too touchy or overly familiar, but, most importantly, you just feel. Awkward. It's like everyone knows. Did they all know before you did, or did Miguel quickly spread the news around? You're not sure which of those is worse. He's wanting to get you know you more intimately, he wants to try and take you on dates, but, he sucks at it, he's been out of the game way too long and he's a stressed temperamental half-spider workaholic, so, his dates amount to, him just trying to spend time with you in different ways while trying to make awkward small talk. He takes you to dinner. He sees if there are any movies or entertainment you wanna see in the Spider Society, making awkward attempts to try and hold your hand

But also. Imagine. A version of Miguel that wants to move much faster than that. I mean, you two are going to be canon, so, you might as well get acclimated to him right away, right? He wants you to immediately spend more time with him, he starts controlling where you are and what you do so he can be spending time with you or connected to you in some way, you're living with him in his own residence now, he INSISTS you sleep in the same bed like a married couple, and while he may not immediately demand you do what married couples do, he makes it clear that he wants to eventually. God, you can barely even relax knowing he's in bed with you and he still forcibly cuddles you, getting used to feeling his body against your own (and what if he slept in the nude 😳 he provides you pj's but they're kind of small and thin and he keeps the room cold on purpose so you have to seek his warmth under the covers)

Miguel is like an established adult in his 30s or something all "we'll get to know each other and then we can start planning our wedding. We'll have dinner dates at least once a week and we'll have joint bank accounts--" meanwhile you're just sitting over here like " um 🥺 I um 🥺 have never really even dated anyone before 🥺" and suddenly this 6 ft 9 man is looking down at you realizing there's a lil bit of an age gap and definitely an experience gap and he gets to have all of your "firsts" and he's Just So Weird About It in like, kinda a fetish way. He gets to have your first kiss, your first time (maybe he even wants to wait until marriage), he gets to teach you things, like, lowkey it's kinda like a mentorship as well as a relationship, he's your teacher, your protector, your husband, your jailor

Like imagine you finally have your first baby and you're freaking out and you're so scared and worried about doing everything absolutely perfect and he's just like, so happy but also kind of romanticizing/fetishizing you being a new/first-time mom, he thinks you're so cute, so eager to do good and learn how to do the best for your baby. He teaches you all kinds of things about childcare and being pregnant since, he's already cared for his fiance before his canon event, he remembers all the things he learned to become a dad, all the things he picked up during the second go around, and now everything new he's learned just for you. I mean really if we follow the combo comic/movie canon, you're the first time he's getting a BABY baby and getting to raise it and do everything from the start, and it's his CANON baby so he knows you're both safe.

I just feel like between his literal list of trauma (beaten by abusive father who also abused his mom, he was betrayed and drugged with a highly addictive and agonizing substance to basically be enslaved, he was sabotaged and atomically spliced with a spider while trying to cure said addiction, his pregnant fiance died, his second family died as well as an entire universe) and him not really even having much of an OPTION with breaking canon at risk (which would have such a domino effect because it happening in his Nueva York would dismantle THE ENTIRE SPIDER SOCIETY, so, this is like, QUARDUPLE RISK) he would just. Like damn you don't even need to have yandere stuff in there, he HAS to make you stay with him? Obviously he eventually has no problem with it and fully enjoys the excuse if he wasn't crazy about you on sight, but like. LMAO you're just hanging around HQ with big sad eyes and people are whispering "who's that over there that Miguel is hovering over" "oh that's Miguel's wife. she's scared of him and he's way too intense" "well why doesnt she just leave him" "can't, they're canon, and even if they werent, i dont think he'd allow it. Shit just the other day she wanted to leave HQ to swing through the city and she didn't get his permission first and Miguel activated the Morales Protocol and sent us all chasing after her" "like ALL all?" "Oh yeah it was totally an 'all available units' situation, and once she saw she was being chased she started freaking out and panicking and tried to run, which pissed him off even more, and is why she's got a babysitter now" "oh wow, that's rough... so anyways do you know what they're serving in the cafeteria today?"

[bowieandqueen11]

Seductress / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do an izzy x reader where lucius purposely tries to make izzy jealous (it works btw) the rest is up to you also could the reader have gender neutral pronouns so everyone can share the fun! Thank you for fueling the hyperfixation fire! Lots of love ���

Aww lovely that's so kind of you, thank you!! I love writing Lucius being a little shit (affectionate) towards Izzy lmao we love a flirty bestie!

Warning: Nothing too graphic but NSFW, some sexual innuendos and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @dizzy-izzy-hands.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

You should have known rightly from that tell-tale smirk that Lucius had nothing good planned.

The man had barely been able to sit still all day. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to be as much of a nuisance as possible: must have unwrapped himself from Black Pete's arms that morning, sat up with wide stretching arms and a smile as ferocious as the jaded depths of Davy Jones' locker itself as he decided, with an assertive nod to the rest of the crew, to cause as much mischief as he could that day.

After all, Lucius, the king of pickpocketing, was more than acute at spotting stolen glances from miles away. Of noting darting looks; that morning, as he had sipped his orange juice and observed Izzy over the rim of his glass, it hadn't escaped his notice how he had almost- god, so he had been so close to not losing his nerve. He had warbled, almost swaying from side to side as Izzy plundered the depths of his mind to try and find the courage to sit and have breakfast on your other side, but as soon as you had raised your eyes curiously to see what he had been doing, he jolted back as if electrocuted and scurried off back to the deck. Lucius' sigh had been frustrated enough to blow bubbles of juice out and splatter them onto your already scowling face.

Nor had he missed the lingering wistfulness shrouding Izzy's eyes that same afternoon: the way he had watched you from the rigging of the Revenge, clinging onto the rope as if for dear life any time you passed him by. From helping Roach roll more barrels of dried meat down into the kitchen, or nearly keeling yourself over the edge of the ship to avoid Edward and Stede's impromptu sword fighting lesson, Izzy had been almost... calm. Placated? Silent? Bashful, Lucius thought, as he had watched the man's fist squeeze so tightly into a ball he thought the leather might tear down the seams right there and then. With a hand on his hip and a huff in your direction, Lucius was getting incredibly fed up of being the only one to notice how bashfully Izzy tried to look anywhere else when your eyes met. How your voice cracked when he had come sliding up to you, hammer looking quite menacing as he thumped it against his palm and asked you why you had made it your life's work to cross Izzy's line of vision any time you could.

'This has been going on for weeeeeks, when are you two just going to stop pretending you don't want to slam each other into the wall until you're gasping for air every time you see each other', he had groaned, throwing his head back and trying to beckon Wee John over to give his concerns some backing. The man, too busy sewing a hole in his trousers back together, and having enough sense to fear for his life with the way Izzy was glaring daggers his way, quickly shook his head and buried it back down in the mottled fabric.

'I have no idea what you're talking about', you had replied curtly, effectively ending the conversation. Even if he had flared his nostrils and thwacked you teasingly over the head with the long edge of his sleeve, a blind man would have been able to see the glimmer in your eye as you looked hopefully in Izzy's direction.

No, this man really did not miss a thing. And it was beginning to drive you insane.

Thankfully, he had been gracious enough to already warn you ahead of time about his brand new spanking plan to get this idiot of a first mate to admit his feelings for you. About how, once Stede had informed the crew that they would be stopping off on a little island called 'Tangerine Grove' during the sunset, so he and Ed could have their daily constitutional through the silver gleams cast by pale tree light only the rock hidden away behind the tip of Blindman's Cove could bring, a lightbulb had gone off in Lucius' head.

Which is how you had ended up here: shivering under the growing violet wisps of dusk that splattered the spring sky, sitting alone along an unfamiliar stretch of beach, wishing you could rescind your acceptance of Lucius' excited plan and instead go join your friends as they ran, barefoot, through the wet grains and wrestled each other into the waves. Only Izzy was still standing apart, looking entirely uncomfortable as he rubbed his jaw against his shoulder. Without even realising, he found his heel to be tapping a thousand miles per minute upon the ground: a horrid itching sensation spiking its way up his legs as he tried his best to look nonchalantly towards the dipping curve of the sun. To look anywhere else apart from at you. God, he fucking hated the way you made him feel so... fragile. So stunted. Even Edward had encouraged him that morning to try and express his lingering feelings to you, but a harrowing hatred had pierced his heart and caged the words from escaping their writhing chambers.

Hatred at how foolish he felt running away. Hatred at how Edward teased him, despite seeming like a lovesick idiot for a stupid twat that would be seem like shit scraped off the bottom of his boot compared to you. Hatred at how vulnerable he felt. Hatred for himself. For how he had been the harbinger of his own ruination. How, in the end, his misery was no one's fault but his own.

'Well now', Lucius enunciates in a sing song voice, clucking his tongue at the end. You almost jump out of your skin as he appears before you, drawn away from watching Izzy's face contort in flashes of fury as Lucius' torso replaces your view. His furrowed brow and pursed lips almost endue him with a sage like intensity, as he dips his head and shoots you an almost sympathetic frown.

He waggles his eyebrows as he perches down on the cragged rocks lining the shoreline next to you. 'What do we have here, then? Little Y/n, sitting here on this god forsaken rock with stupid arse over there too emotionally gagged to come keep you company. How tragic. Do you think the stick up his bum stops him from walking over here? Or maybe it's-'

'Lucius, you really don't have to do this.' You grab onto his arm, almost pleading with him through the frantic batting of your eyelashes, but Lucius just pats your fingers and intertwines them within his own. Laying your hands on his lap, he cocks his head and carefully strokes a path down your knuckles.

'Anything for my bestie', he winks, before glancing rather conspicuously behind his shoulder to trace Izzy's path. 'Besides, if that man doesn't just admit his feelings, one of us is going to end up kicking him up the arse. And as much as I would love that to be me, I want one of my favourite people in the whole world to be happy more. Trust me, I’m fantastic at forcing two knobheaded people to admit their true feelings for each other.'

’Oi, I'm not a kno-’, you try to retort with a roll of your eyes, but are stopped short by Lucius grabbing the bottom of your chin like crab pincers digging into your skin, and has already turned your face so your nose is lined up directly with his mouth.

'You know, it's been a long time since I sketched you.' His fingers dart up your face, walking their way up your cheek until Lucius brushed his knuckles back down to your jawline. 'If you like', he leans closer to you and purses his lips, 'we could fill the rest of Stede's journal right up.' He makes sure his voice is loud enough - sultry enough, that even Roach perks his head up from where he's laying starfish on the shoreline.

There we go.

Bingo.

A muscle in Izzy's tense jaw jumps: a minute twitch, but enough to let a far too smug looking Lucius know that he's on the right track.

'Or if that's not your jam, I know something else we can do', he leans in closer so his lips move against the shell of your ear with each word, and despite yourself your back rolls with shivers at the warm blows against your inner ear. 'Roach clued me in to some hidden compartments Stede had built into the ship. No more audience - just us, if you catch my drift', he finishes with an accentuating wink and kiss to the back of your hand.

The sound of a high pitched whistling even made Frenchie and the Swede pause their scuttling in the dirt for starfish, whipping their heads under their arms and burying themselves in the sand as they waited for the cannon fire to land. Nothing came, though. Instead, the sound only grew louder... and louder... until everyone was glancing uneasily up at the puffy clouds, waiting for a cleft to appear through the weaving pink breeze.

Only you and Lucius knew to look inland, rather than up at the heavens.

And there he stood: the incoming hit. The seething tempest. The washed up wreck.

The poor man was already fuming. If he bit his tongue an inch harder, the blood would begin to pour out of the corners of the man's mouth as if he had willingly swallowed arsenic, and was allowing it to fester in the recesses of his heart. Anything, anything would be better than letting it tremble. So blood it is. Down the poison willingly goes.

You would have been able to hear the sigh that blew out from Izzy’s flaring nostrils from the crow’s nest. Forget that: you’d be able to feel the burning steam radiating off his near vibrating body from the next continent. With each passing second Izzy could feel his heart decaying in pulsing oozes through his chest cavity. And with every smile, every lingering brush of someone else's fingers on your skin, the rot residing in his soul became that little bit more mutilating. The touch of Lucius' pointer finger against your cupid's bow finally goaded his insides to slither out in a body wracking convulsion: his heart finally mouldering out through the corner of his eyes in snaking tendrils.

He finds his feet pounding across the horizon before the rational part of his brain could try to keep up. Lucius barely has time to register the swarm of black buzzing in front of his face before claws have dug into his striped shirt and have hoisted him up like a ragdoll. The feel of Izzy's teeth baring against his nose is enough even to make Lucius' head recoil.

'Get your fucking little, dirty, clawed rat hands the fuck away from them.' Izzy spits at Lucius' boots, content only when the man grimaced and took a hop backwards and away from his lacerating fingers.

'What's your problem, Dizzy Izzy', Lucius hisses back, hunching down onto his haunches and resting his hands treacherously on your shoulders: far too close, as he squeezes you reassuringly. Too damn fucking close, for Izzy's taste. 'Just because it's not your fingers, doesn't mean you have to be so jealous. We don't own each other on this ship. If you're interested, all you have to do is say.'

'Who says I'm fucking jealous', he tries to shrug, but his voice is strained. Wracked. He's obviously trying to stop himself melting to your feet and placating himself at your shrine right there and then, ready to die under your heel.

Izzy glances uncertainly along the ground, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner at the way Lucius grins at his growing discomfort. 'Oh come on, you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I headed back to the ship right now, right? After all, Dizzy Izzy doesn't get jealous. He wouldn't care if he could hear screaming coming from-'

'You shut your fucking mouth.' He shoves a thick finger into Lucius' chest, nearly toppling over himself trying to get his arm in to separate the man from your back.

'Or what?', Lucius replies, trying to keep his grip by your neck while also trying to bat off Izzy's slicing hands. He manages to pull back and wring his hand out right before Izzy bared his teeth and took a chunk out of it. 'What are you going to do, Izzy? Give me a lashing? I'm sure you'd love to do that to Y/n. Or maybe for them to do that to you - I've always known you were a mas-'

'You little. Fucking. Tease.' Despite the ferocity of his words as he spits them out from his serpent tongue, the tenderness of his fingers as he reaches down to grip your wrist surprises you. He tugs you up, taking a step around your body as if to shield you from the gratified smirk Lucius is radiating.

'I could destroy you, you know, and everyone would thank me for it. Because that's what you do, isn't it?' He was trying his best to sound as bratty as possible, but there was an almost imperceptible shake in his fingers as he tightened his grip on your wrist. 'A proper little seductress. Using and destroying perfect things.'

'Perfect?', you whisper out from behind his back, your hand coming up to touch your lips as if you could taste the sweetness dripping off the word. Izzy's brows furrow as he curses himself. Fuck. He's fucking done it now. What kind of sap will you think he is? Standing there with knees nearly knocking before you, some kind of fucking pirate with his squeaky voice and thumb circling delicate paths along your wrist.

'Do you really mean that?', you ask, the eagerness in your tone enough to make Izzy's breath falter in the back of his throat. He nearly chokes on it, but finds just enough to pant out the truest words left in his rotten body.

'I... meant, what I said.'

You flash your eyes toward him in surprise, but the man is already staring directly at you. What you were surprised about though, were the tears that were shrouding the usual piercing glare of his irises. He looked almost… childlike. Mythical. Almost pitiable, standing on the long stretch of mist, feet crushing into the grains of sand as if he were willing himself to stay anchored, to not fade away with his tears into the spray of mist.

A man strung up by the tendrils of heart, doomed to stay wanting, waiting, fading into the rays of light.

It was almost phantasmal. And as you used your free hand to cup Izzy's cheek, it was almost enough for him to trick him into believing that he was alive again.

Even Lucius’ mouth drops down into a surprised ‘oh’ as a lone tear manages to tear a ragged path down the first mate’s sullen cheek.

He snorts, raising his eyes to the piercing blue skyline and trying to blink the tears back past his eyelashes. It's when the whining starts: the soft, pitiable howls of a kicked man being held for the first time of his life, that the patchwork mould surrounding what's left of Israel Hands' inner sanctum begins to crack away. He burrows himself into the warm, welcoming palm of your hand, allowing the water to flow over the bud of his nose.

Before your feet could even register that they were moving, Izzy has dragged you away from Lucius and into the shade of a nearby orange tree. A few fireflies began to peek their heads out from between the stout leaves at the disturbance: like honey dripping down from bowed boughs, brushing kindly against Izzy's glowing cheeks and making him seem almost saint-like as they gathered around his head. The sound of your shipmates begins to blur into the distance as the singing is replaced by the wretched pants of Izzy's breath.

He slams your back against the curved bark of the tree, sliding his boots in front of yours and leaning his body over you, effectively trapping you between the scratchy bark and the heaving muscle of his abdomen. You shiver, unsure if it's due to the champagne bubbles lapping their way towards your bare feet, or the feel of Izzy raising the wrist he's almost bruising above your head, no longer trying to hide the fact he's holding you in place against his body.

'Why do you stay around such unsavoury characters.' The bastard bares his teeth at you. God, he was enjoying this far too much. Enjoying raising his knee until the bone nearly kneaded against your groin. Enjoying using his free hand to grip onto your jaw just as Lucius had done, but far needier. He digs into your skin as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe as he leans down to whisper: 'A fine creature such as yourself should be careful of deranged creatures like that. They slink out of the depths like demons. So perverse.'

Fucker makes sure to run his lips from your shoulder blade right up to your pulse point first, though.

'You should thank me for saving you from his depravity.'

'Oh of course', you begin to smile, playing along with his little fable. His little knight in shining armour tale, so he didn't break apart so easily. 'I have to thank you. You've been watching me for a while, haven't you? Taking care of me from afar...', you take a chance while he's distracted breathing in your scent to dip down and nip at his earlobe.

His legs start to waver then, and with a quick reflex that had got you onto Stede’s crew in the first place, you manage to steady him with a hand placed around the firm muscle of his waist.

'I did my best to save you from that seductress.' His teeth clash against your bottom lip in an almost wantonly manner, hovering his mouth over yours. It takes almost all of his self control to seem like he’s seething as his nose pokes against yours; it takes every piercing shred of self restraint he has to not wet your bottom lip with his tongue.

As tough as he thinks he's being, he’s not incredibly subtle in his thoughts and temptations, if the way he can’t stop staring at your mouth is anything to go by. Something wild makes his eyes gloss over: a tightly leashed repression, a long tempered heartache burrowing their way out of his eyes until he can barely hold back the parasitic tears.

His mouth trembles as it falls open, 'you deserve someone proper. Someone better-', he swallows thickly, eyes darting quickly between your own and back down to your widening lips. 'Someone better than them. Someone better than me-'

He looks wonderstruck, and you can't bear just to see its ferity anymore. You have to taste it. And if the manic glint in his eye is anything to go by, Izzy is in exactly the same boat.

His words are quickly enveloped by your mouth. He gasps against your tongue, his own quivering as an overwhelming rush of pure love gushed through him like the rips of a storm. He wastes no time: afraid this was a trick, a prank, a cruel mirage, his mind still trapped in one of his restless, far too fleeting dreams. He lips frantically latch, smother, tug, overwhelm you until you can barely breathe. Can barely feel. Your eyes flicker close in bliss as he allows you a moment of respite from all his pent-up want, his all consuming need, planting a trail of open mouth kisses followed by wide planted licks down your throat.

The slide of your feet against the trim of his steadying boot is a welcome relief from the burn of Izzy's hand as he grips onto your waist like a man possessed. His fingers clench, nearly lifting your lower half up to grind against his abdomen, stopping himself only at the last second and lowering you back down into his unforgiving grip.

You almost gasp when you feel your name roll of his tongue and reverberate through your neck in a hoarse moan. He tries to subdue his embarrassment by finally... finally reaching up and lacing the fingers clawing at your wrist within your own. If he wasn't too busy devouring the bare stretch of skin between your neck and your breast, Izzy perhaps might have felt embarrassed by the way his pelvis was bucking up wildly, leather slapping lewdly up against your inner thigh.

But he isn't embarrassed. He doesn't feel anything at all, except for a coursing rush of life flow through his veins for the first time in years.

He crumbles against you, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks. His hand lets go of yours to trail down your inner palm, a shit eating grin branding its way into your chest as it traces down your arm, and then quickly falls so both hands are squeezing tightly into the meat of your waist. He bites down at your skin, incisors almost drawing blood against your pec. He swipes his tongue against the cut in apology, sucking against the skin as his trousers bounce up and tighten at the sound of you mewling. You scramble your free hand onto his shoulder to try and keep yourself in place, the man ravishing you so forcefully the tips of your toes could barely touch the ground.

Your full weight is resting on his torso, happy to let yourself flop over his shoulders and allow easier access for him to litter hickeys along the sinews of your throat. He does so gladly, making sure on his way to lift his hands and move them to slap down on your buttocks with a squeeze that leaves you reeling.

You're too busy whimpering at the feel of Izzy's inner thigh beginning to bulge against your crotch to feel the sting, his leather trousers beginning to tent in an uncomfortable way that made his biceps squirm as he wrapped them around your back. To mask the sharp barks that he begins to whine, he bites onto your bottom lip and pulls it down with his teeth, until he's satisfied that his tongue has full access to delve down your throat.

You quickly pull back and glance behind Izzy's head when you hear a sing-song 'you're welcome!' and vindicated hum of Lucius receding into the distance.

For someone who saw Lucius as such a threat, Izzy Hands could be quite the little seductress himself.

[chewingbatmanlikeasqueakytoy]

Okay this is actually a partial reply to another post

but my reply got so long i think tumblr literally cant cope LMAO so (context the Amity park perception filter thread with @kaidatheghostdragon which i will edit a link into after posting (X) Edit: the context link is now attached)

Honestly they might not CRASH crash the economy but I honestly think they could do some serious damage. At the very least if Amity is going to start essentially printing USD with these cards to get infrastructure and the like set up the inflation within the town is going to go crazy and they might just need a new currency. I think it's also determined by how LARGE you consider Amity to be. As I've always seen it described as a small town I've always envisioned it to have a population of around 10,000 people. AS IT TURNS OUT the wiki describes it as 'Amity Park is depicted as a moderately large urban city, reminiscent of Chicago, San Francisco, and/or Philadelphia' WHICH IS WAY LARGER THAN I IMAGINED. I don't know SHIT about American cities or their layouts apart from the fact that Everything Is Squares and also apparently the junctions are death(? Apparently America doesn't have roundabouts??? Bro??? I don't know if that was a Simpsons gag but I think about it maybe half as often as I use roundabouts), BUT the point is that google says those cities are somewhere around 800,000 to 2.6 million.

Honestly I think those are weird numbers because those are enough of a range to not be at all considered the same size imo but we'll take Philadelphia as our base bc that's the one in the middle at 1.5 million. In "Amity Park's" population statistics (X) if you take everyone from 20-44 (we're pretending people under 20 can't get one bc apparently 13 year olds can get them with special permissions and that fills me with a special kind of anguish to have learned) but if you take everyone from 20-44 that population totals something like 613,028.

We'll give an error margin of 10% to account for people who are auto disqualified for whatever reason and between that error margin and the people I'm ignoring I think it's realistic to assume you could get 551,726 people credit cards. Unlimited ones? maybe not. But look me in the eyes and tell me if Sam Manson was told 'We can fix the public infrastructure that's damaging the environment and cause serious damage to predatory lending companies' She would not use her families wealth to be backing people as some kind of collateral/co-signer to get OBSCENLEY high credit cards SO FAST. That's to say nothing of if Tucker and the Other Nerds decide it's actually completely fine for them to hack into these companies and auto approve all these credit cards. Like the towns in dire straights so why not? It's unfortunately a pretty human tendency to see the people you care about in trouble and decide you're willing to throw literally anyone and everyone under the bus so I can see him/them doing it.

So. 551,726 people, with theoretically unlimited money to spend. CONSERVATIVELY if they racked up $500,000 USD on each card, the amount of money spent by Amity would end up being $275,863,000,000 or $275.8 BILLION Now the GDP of the USA is $25.44 Trillion, which looks like $25,440,000,000,000 so it's not a LOT in the grand scheme of things but it is just over 1%, I'm not going to pretend I know what that does economically to the entire USA but consider that Beer sales in the USA accounted for $106 billion in 2022, and that amity would potentially be generating nearly three times that. (X) I have just gone on a fucking TANGENT about the economy in this silly fun times thread of ours so I apologise I will try and sum up very quickly why I think they could spend so much so quickly. Philadelphia has a total of 37 hospitals. They built a new one sometime around 2021 to the tune of $1.6 billion (X) If Amity built a new hospital for liminality care and a few new ones Just Because They Realised They Can, say they build ten new hospitals, which is a VERY LARGE amount of new hospitals to build on workforce Alone, but they probably have tireless ghost workers who are probably obsessed with construction and regular living workers who want to be paid in the times before everyone had acclimated to the ghosts properly. Split among 551,726 people that's actually a fairly reasonable $28,999.90, which, hilariously, is actually just in and around the average limit to credit cards. So they wouldn't even need Sam or Tucker to mess with credit cards yet (X) Averages typically suck as a way of measuring stuff but this isn't a Real Life Government Project so I'm willing to call that acceptable. So if it's only $30k for ten hospitals why the hell am I citing a fat $500k each? Luxury Shit. A few luxury cars and some big name watches and you've blown through that $500k no problem. That's to say nothing of all the REST of the infrastructure that needs fixing - the roads, the schools, the libraries, the replacement materials for the transport system - hell building the APDC is going to probably be another billion dollar project if they want two portals large enough to get what is probably multilane traffic through in regards to transport. Sure the cars won't be useful for long maybe but that's just one example. Jewellery, coats - hell designer shoes and collector nonsense can go for STUPID amounts and as people who are desperate to outpace their neighbours in Cool Stuff They Own realise that their neighbours are capable of getting all the same crap they are? people are either going to stop caring or they're going to start buying some Really Obscure Shit. For the others who just wanted to buy pretty things? There's literally no reason to stop. Amity might have to limit the amount of crap people can get shipped in per week/impose serious shipping tariffs just to make sure the new FTL supply chain doesn't collapse because people are determined to get their new Cashmere and Mohair coats with Gold Embroidery or what the hell ever on next day delivery. Honestly in this scenario the cards over time thing probably doesn't matter because I'm pretty sure the Amity expenditure would DESTROY the lending company, which might then actually be the thing to get Amity rediscovered or maybe they space all these buildings out over time so they keep living the sweet life.

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

OH BOY LETS DO IT @jacksmusesdrv3

Unfortunately due to how little we know about Jin, it's hard to talk about things he specifically did on his own, BUT WE CAN TALK ABOUT WHAT HE DIDNT DO, AND HIS STAFF THAT HE ALLOWS TO RUN WILD

I'll try to not be talking about the Izuru project outside of things Jin may have gone out of his way to do that were not required of him, otherwise I will assume that he had no real control or say over it because without that then you have to get into the steering committee and the structure of the schools politics and eughgheguh

First off, lets start with something a bit less directly but still speaks a LOT about how Jin's a weak ass pushover who doesn't give a shit about the students, his staff!

Like first of all, it's the one, the only Koichi Kizakura! For those who don't remember it's the guy in the hat from Danganronpa 3, the drunk one.

Which as you can imagine, that makes the problem immediately apparent. You shouldn't have a teacher who coming to work hangover and sick, I care a lot less about his talent hunting part, that's a weird secondary thing, and he's not really interacting much with them just giving them invites, I'll allow it. Teaching though? No. no no no no. Especially Main Course??? What. What. What. Is he only here because none of the students actually have to show up to class (which is fucked up as well what the hell) so he can just sit in Jin's room emanating "my best friends straight and married and ive been in love with him my whole life so im going to be sassy and drunk" energy??

However I want to quickly pivot because i just realized

Chisa's actual title is ASSISTANT HOMEROOM TEACHER. Which while 8 years ago this was just "oh yeah shes a teacher" however, with my current life experience she 100% should not have had as much power over her class. Assistant teachers and aides and the like while VERY useful...need supervision, Chisa is straight out of college, she's never taught before, and while that might be okay for a normal school, the fact this is ONE OF THE MOST ELITE SCHOOLS IN THE WORLD? Everyone here doing the main teaching should HAVE SO MANY MORE QUALIFICATIONS.

So while Assistant is a good fit for her over the main homeroom teacher, the fact JIN ACTIVELY ACKNOWLEDGES THAT KOICHI'S GONNA BE KINDA SHIT??UNHINGED BEHAVIOR. GIVE HER TO A TEACHER WHO'S ACTUALLY GOING TO BE ABLE TO ADVISE OR SUPERVISE?? AND KOICHI IS JUST LIKE "LMAO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT"?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? WHAT SCHOOL WOULD EVER ALLOW THIS???

I will give Koichi one thing though, he's shrewd as hell, in the future foundation killing game hes a valuable asset, but in a school setting? Why is HE HERE

Jin laments somewhat that Chisa is here because of Munakata "insisting", which Koichi rightfully points out as a power play. Jin brushes this off as he knows that, but like?? What the hell.

KYOSUKE ISN'T EVEN AT HOPES PEAK??? HE'S AT AN OFF-SHORE FACILITY, YOU COULD HAVE SO EASILY JUST...NOT HIRED HER? YOURE THE ONE IN CHARGE HERE! SAY NO! HE CAN HIRE HER AT HIS SCHOOL HE'S BUILDING

As well, even with the class being required, KIDS ARE STILL SHOWING UP, so even the excuse of "they dont show up' doesnt fly! Sonia, Fuyuhiko, Hiyoko, and Mahiru are ALL IN THE CLASSROOM when Chisa first enters, god they're all so cute also why is hiyoko's cuteness up the max in this anime also Mikan enters a bit later bringing the total to five

Then chisa IMMEDIATELY starts lying, she was NEVER made the teacher, she's THE ASSISTANT TEACHER, THATS A DIFFERENT JOB, YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO BE THE MAIN TEACHER, YOU ARE THERE TO EASE THE WORKLOAD. YOUR JOB IS TO GRADE SHIT, AND HELP KIDS DO FRACTIONS OR WHATEVER. YOU ARE THERE TO HELP BE MORE HANDS ON DECK AND MAKE SURE THE MAIN TEACHER CAN FOCUS ON MORE IMPORTANT THINGS THEN TELLING KIDS THEY CAN GO TO THE BATHROOM

I do love Hiyoko immediately going "lmao i cant wait to break her, destroy her social position, sell her organs, kill her, and more" like im sorry if you don't like Hiyoko you're wrong she's hysterical Fuyuhiko is the only person to go "WHAT ABOUT THE IDIOT BEFORE" To which we learn..... HE'S HUNGOVER AND VOMITING, GO HOME.

FUYUHIKO'S RESPONSE??

"Again?"

WHICH JUST FURTHER ILLUSTRATES THAT KOICHI IS BEING AN ACTIVE DETRIMENT TO THE CLASSROOM, WHY IS HE A TEACHER, IS HE EVEN CERTIFIED.

Im going to ignore Chisa's absolute batshit student hunt to get them all in class, that one's going under "thats just danganronpa/anime logic" though i will point a few things, like she is right that school isnt about just passing exams, its also about learning social skills and building connections, so the fact so few kids are ever even in class is not great for their development. However, do not call your actual students rotten oranges, especially when one is essentially named orange, {Mikan}. Especially when it's not their fault??? Like these are the kids who actually came into class, dont punish them for it, at least Sonia's having a blast. Also don't threaten students with knives but as he's literally a yakuza heir i'll let that one slide, like yeah fair.

Even just the FIRST EPISODE of danganronpa 3 we learn

Jin is protecting and sheltering his completely unfit to be a teacher best friend, something actively detrimental to the school life and education of these kids. While I'm okay with his talent hunt stuff, this man should not be a teacher on campus who is hungover and vomiting often enough for students to recognize a damn pattern

Jin is completely uncaring or ambivalent to power plays done by people with less power then him that he can easily shut down, but instead plays it off as "forcing his hand" when in reality he absolutely could have just...not hired Chisa! What's Kyosuke gonna do in retaliation if he doesn't? Does Jin benefit from this at all? It's a pointless allowance, one Koichi points as only going to undermine him for no reason, and he's not wrong! She literally came as a spy!

Hiring Chisa makes no sense whatsoever, she's graduated so while she's probably qualified to teach in general. Letting her completely take over and command a classroom on her first day, going against the school rules to do so because attendance isn't mandatory, of one of the most PRESTIGIOUS schools in the world is just. Unhinged. It's lunacy. Especially when she's officially just the assistant teacher. Which is the role she should have in this situation! Assistant teacher's DON'T DO THIS. While she's said to leave a good impact on the students, this could have gone horribly wrong, and the fact Jin doesn't seem to care is a really bad look.

Actively upholds policies that are detrimental the development of social skills and normal skills one would learn in a high school environment along with seemingly uncaring if they get hurt or hurt others doing this, along with the sheer amount of property damage.

He actively allows people into the school who turn out to be spies or actively looking to work against hope's peak, Chisa is a spy, Juzo is a spy, it seems the only credentials to work here are "be an ultimate at some point" and after that Jin just does not care

What about other things he does in the series? (im not going to get screenshots anymore i dont wanna)

He plays favorites with the students, despite Nagito's terrorist attack being very much nagito' sfault, out of the four students involved in the utter catastrophe that was the gym testing thing, he's the only one not expelled because his luck is wanted for further study by Jin. While Ruruka and Seiko do have valid reasons of helping Ruruka cheat (which even then im unsure? like yeah ruruka tried to put in performance enhancing drugs but uh, i dont, think that would effect the pastry? it would just make the people eating it have better talent? It wasn't like Ruruka doped herself to make better pastries, so im unsure if this actually would have counted as cheating. Sure the mix up resulted in laxatives being put in instead which could count as poisoning but the act of the enhancing drug is kind of a grey area here but also gundham was allowed to let a bear bite Souda so I think this should be considered same shit as always) I'm unsure if this is really an expel worthy offense next to "literally blew up the gym in a terrorist attack" nagito over there just getting suspended, and also Sohnosuke is tangentially involved in that debacle at BEST. This is the one time in her life ever that Ruruka deserved better. Also Koichi finally gets punishment in a suspension and Chisa faces a consequence for her actions only after multiple people are poisoned, and Komaeda did a terrorism

The reserve course teaching position is used as a punishment, as when Chisa is finally given a consequence for how wildly out of control she's kinda led everything to be, it's to be a reserve teacher, something seen as a nasty punishment. Again, this ties back into LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THE RESERVE COURSE. While I won't go too into that because that's also like steering committee stuff, Jin could have easily just suspended her like Koichi. This doesn't even get any payoff because the next episode she just gets put back into 77-B and now is made their ACTUAL homeroom teacher after a few months passed off screen. Jin no.

Jin laments about how he didn't use Kyoko's talent to find the mastermind of the tragedy, which. Is another annoying retcon, because he did do that in danganronpa 0 then fucking backpeddled and threatened her about it. He literally talks about the parade, he did do that, which also my man you couldn't do anything to try and appease the parade? At all?

He's extremely uninvolved, basically every choice or decision he ever makes is because someone else told him to do it, or because he couldn't bother to do something different, he's a doormat, a puppet, and he doesn't care even when it starts to have a death count

Has helped cover up over 10 student deaths. While he argues about the massacre of the student council being covered in dr3, in dr0 he still covers up the Madarai Brothers, Yasuke, the only survivor of the massacre, and Yuto, marking them as just expelled, instead of fucking killed. Very "no one has ever died in disneyland" of him.

Does nothing to help the Reserve course, I'm not even sure he even ever interacts with a reserve

Literally everything about Juzo, sir, sir are you aware the security are assaulting reserves? SIR!

I can't talk too much about his plan to lock up class 78 inside hope's peak because we dont see much of it, but also only sheltering like 17 people inside of hope's peak is a little underkill for how many people you could save with that.

The steering committee isn't even actually all that intimidating, its just four old dudes, like, my dude, you have yakuza and other gang members at this school, you could solve this problem of the steering board doing crimes against humanity pretty easily actually (list of students who definitely could have just killed, reported, or otherwise sabotaged the steering committee if jin had enough of a backbone to actually use his resources to stop mass human experimentation: Byakuya Togami, Imposter, Madarai Brothers, Santa, Suzuhiko Ōtsuki, Matsuda, Sonia, Ted, Elite Task Force Members, Fuyuhiko, Peko, Miaya) These guys are so fucking killable look at them, one of thems already about to pass over dead, literally just give Fuyuhiko like 100,000 dollars and a pass on the sato murder and your problems ~are solved~ and no one can argue "but but morality" HE HELPED COVER UP OVER TEN MURDERS OF HIS STUDENTS

So yeah, terrible headmaster, terrible father, utter spineless coward who I wouldn't trust with a banana let alone Hope's Peak Academy

I do wish we learned anything about his past of hopes peak because like, he has to be an ultimate right? No way he's not, what was his ultimate? What did he do? How did he get this role? Honestly I'm extremely curious about this ngl, like if you want to actually flesh out jin (WHICH LIKE HA NO THEY DONT) a novel about his time at hope's peak could be fun to actually y'know, make him in any way shape of form actually redeemable?

Honestly you could have something interesting there because the Kirigiri clan is supposed to be super underground and Jin's a shit detective so if he's scouted it had to be something related to something else he did, which could help create the divide, and you could use this to actually give us basically any information on his wife, like, a name for instance. Hell with his age of "late 30s" and Kyoko's age at time of death you could make a solid argument that he was a teen dad and now wouldnt that make his dynamic with kirigiri so much more interesting? Like if we assume Kyoko's 17-18 and the late 30's is accurate still even after time in the tragedy that puts him at a solid 17-22 when kyoko was born, hell retcon his birthday to november-december and you could get away with 16. If you really wanna go dark you could even play into the steering committee secretly encouraging teen pregnancy amongst students as an early form of talent eugenics study. Make Kazuo worse, make Jin an example of the circle of violence cowards.

[changbunnies]

Outlaw (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, dubcon, strangers to... something? basically just filth with a little plot thrown in

♡ Word Count: 4.9k

♡ Summary: Y/N, after being displaced from her home due to outlaws, returns a year later in the hopes to reclaim some lost belongings. But the outlaw Changbin, who has claimed her old home for himself, won't let her take her things without getting something in return. edit: this now has a part 2 you can read here! <3

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is mean in a way that he disguises as 'nice' ??? very insincere and condescending :'), minor mention of someone being dead, changbin also remains nameless for a bulk of the fic because he is a stranger. that's about it for general warnings since this is mostly smut lmao but let me know if i missed something that should be here!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon!! (please read responsibily and with your own discretion for what you can handle!), petnames (sugar, darlin, sweetheart, good girl, he uses "little lady" exactly once, he also calls reader dumb once), manhandling, nipple play, biting/marking, unprotected piv, some slapping and choking, a lil dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything!

♡ Notes: i originally wasn't going to post something again this soon but i was possesed to write this after repeatedly seeing cowboy concepts from my faves :') as usual, if you're interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Get in, grab the stuff you need, and get out before the sun starts to set– that’s all you have to do. You are in the remnants of your childhood home, nestled within the ghost town that is the place you grew up in. Abandoned over a year ago, when a band of cowboys came stirring trouble and driving out the locals with their exuberant drinking and penchant for violence. 

Your parents, the owners of what was once the town’s largest and most successful saloon, had unfortunate run-ins with the vile men on a daily basis, having to turn away regulars for their own safety and clean up the abundant mess left behind from the nightly roughhousing. 

It was with a heavy heart that your family left everything behind, with the hopes they could rebuild somewhere safer, out of the radius of all the outlaws and their gun fights. Your family hasn’t had the easiest go of things since then, having expended nearly all of their tucked away savings in the process of relocating and building a new home and business.

And now here you are, searching your hold home for anything that could help. You’d heard news of dust settling in the area as the infighting between local gangs were dying down, and thought now would be your best chance to return for things that had to be left behind.

You knew there was no physical money to be found, but if you were lucky there could still be trinkets left behind that would fetch a good price. Something that maybe the cowboys wouldn’t recognize as overtly valuable, but would be to a trained eye. 

"Ya lost, sugar?" a gruff voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Shit– how did you not hear him approach? You quickly stand and turn around, the image of a burly man in the doorway, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. There was no way this man approached silently– you must have just been too absorbed in your task to pay attention to outward noise.

"Not lost," you say, voice firm now that you are past the initial surprise of being discovered. You are not nearly as alarmed as one might expect you to be; you were born and raised in the saloon, helped your parents keep it running smoothly as a barmaid once you were old enough. You handled your fair share of unruly drunks and trigger happy outlaws, learning from an early age how to get men to abide by your rules. So surely you could handle this man too.

"Sure 'bout that? This ain't the kinda place a little lady like yourself goes wanderin',” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. Despite the relaxed way he does it, it's clear he doesn't intend on letting you past him. If anything, he almost challenges you to– with a look that says you can certainly try to get past me, but you won’t. 

"This is my house. At least it was, until people like you drove us out," you spit out against your better judgment. You normally know better than to instigate a fight with a lawless man, usually using a disgustingly sweet tone and batting your lashes to get them to listen to you.

You should know to bite down the resentment that runs through you, even if the feeling is justified. But the way that he’s treating your home as his property makes your blood boil. "Just let me get my things, and then I'll never see you again.”

The man hums, as if considering your words, before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. "I don't much care about that darlin'. It belongs to me now." The minute townsfolk like you left, this town was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and he and his gang gladly claimed it. Whatever you left behind, every little thing no matter how small, it’s all his now– it’s as simple as that. And you can’t take from him without paying a price. 

You glare at him, eyes full of scorn. What pisses you off the most about him is that he knows it’s his fault you lost everything you held dear, and he doesn’t care– he holds it over your head, using your belongings like a bargaining chip.

As if you’re a dog waiting to be fed a treat or a fish on his hook, completely at his mercy, unable to get what you want or need unless he’s kind enough to grant it to you. And you hate that it makes his eyes light up with a twisted delight, the smirk making you want to slap it off his face (though he’d probably just find that amusing too.) 

‘Fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. What do you do now? Grovel? Does he want you to get on your hands and knees, beg him with a desperate voice and teary eyes? ‘Oh please, mister cowboy sir, please give me my things back!’ As fucking if– you would never do that. The man lets out a laugh, as if he can read your mind and knows exactly what you think of him. 

But the thing is, he does know what you’re thinking, knows that you absolutely hate him right now. He's seen that expression on countless faces before– a fire burning in the eyes, red hot rage burning through your blood. But if there's anything he's good at, one thing he loves doing more than anything else, it's extinguishing the flames of pretty young things like you who think they can talk back to him. 

"If it makes you this upset, you can always take it up with the leader of my gang. He’s the one who ‘forced’ you out, not me," he says, a devilish smirk plastered on his face before he continues, "Oh, but he's 6 feet under now. Guess you're outta luck, huh? You're stuck with me darlin'. So let's figure this out together, hmm?" 

He steps out of the doorway, letting the previously open door slam closed behind him. You want to stand your ground, but unconsciously you take a step back, and then another, and another, until he has you cornered. Back pressed against the wall, his palm planted firmly on the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in. 

His other hand reaches for the bag hanging off your shoulder, full of your old personal effects. Valuable trinkets buried under old journals, black and white family photos and letters penned from distant relatives; all items that scream of sentimentality.

How sweet. It's too bad he's not a nicer person; maybe then he'd let you walk away with all this useless junk that he has no need for. But what would be the fun in that? 

"I can't let you just take what's mine, we both know that wouldn't be right," he says while gripping your bag tightly in his fist, as if he gives a single fuck about what's right or wrong. All this stuff belonged to you before he and his stupid outlaw buddies effectively stole it anyways!

He’s blatantly playing with you, stirring up your emotions just to revel in the reaction it grants him. "Ya gotta pay for it, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl who knows better than that," he continues, feigning sweetness and care with his tone. 

"I don't have any money to give you," you glare, though the aggression in your eyes doesn’t match the timid way you speak. And that's the crux of why you're here– sure, you've been picking up sentimental items as you move through your old home, but you desperately need money and you came back in the hopes there'd still be something of use to you that hasn't been pilfered yet. 

"Oh, don’t you worry 'bout that. I'm not interested in money darlin'," he says as he tosses your bag to the side, no care at all for any breakables inside. His face moves an inch closer, hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He watches with amused delight as the cogs turn in your head, a realization that makes your eyes widen and face flush. 

"Y-You– I–" You hate yourself for stumbling over your words, and giving more entertainment to the man in front of you. You can tell he likes the way you begin to crumble, breaking down your resolve to be resolute bit by bit. His words are accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye that you would acquaint with playfulness if you weren’t currently being trapped against a wall by an incredibly strong, intimidating man. 

"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not a monster. I won't force you," he smiles, knowing very well what he's doing. He frames it as if it's your choice– as if he can be free of blame if you give in, as if he isn't taking advantage of your desperation to get your things back. He takes a step back, freeing you from your caged position against the wall, giving you the opportunity to flee right this second if you so choose.

But he knows you won’t. Because you’re brave, or maybe just foolishly stubborn, and you refuse to leave without what you came for. The illusion of choice he’s giving you– it’s almost sickening in its cruelty. And that stupid fucking smirk on his face should make you feel disgusted, resentful, furious, but you feel none of those things– you feel… butterflies? 

Fuck. Are you attracted to him? How fucking stupid can you get? To be attracted to a man who has such little regard for other people, who looks at you like a plaything he can discard the moment he’s bored. His words might be framed sweetly, but the message underneath is clear– you are going to give him what he wants. "Well, what do ya say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with me?" 

You swallow, looking at him with shaky fists and red cheeks. Are you really going to do this? Give yourself up to a stranger for things that rightfully belong to you in the first place? It goes against everything you stand for, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to just leave. What would your family say if they found out how far you degraded yourself for something so objectively small? 

But fuck it. Against your better judgment, you agree to ‘have some fun’ with the frustratingly attractive outlaw in front of you. The man smirks once more before he grabs your face under the chin with a rough hand, directing your head up towards his, kissing you with a roughness you've never experienced before. 

There’s a noise of surprise that leaves you, the moment happening so fast it makes your head spin. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open for him, his tongue wasting no time on entering. Unconsciously you reach out for him, desperately grasping for something to hold. You're impossibly dizzy from the feeling of his tongue making circles around yours, and you need to ground yourself, doing so by tightly clutching his shirt in your hands. 

His teeth snatch your bottom lip, tugging harshly before soothing the bite with a lick, and repeating. A whimper escapes you, though you can't tell if it's from the sting in his bites or excitement welling in your gut.

You've always been treated delicately by men before now– like you were made from porcelain, like even the smallest of bends could result in a break. And that's what you always thought you liked, so why..? Why is his treatment making your entire body shiver in delight?

He grins when he pulls away, satisfied with the dazed look in your eyes, the swollen red of your lips, the way your breathing has substantially quickened. He wants to ruin you even more– make you delirious with need for him. 

He reaches for the top of your dress now, pulling it down just enough to expose your chest to him. "Pretty," he says with a grin so attractive that it makes your stomach twist. What the fuck is this guy doing to you? You should be ashamed of yourself for finding any semblance of enjoyment from this. 

Rough, calloused hands waste no time groping the newly exposed skin. You suck in a breath, trying desperately not to let out any sounds that would grant him satisfaction. He tuts in disapproval, though he actually loves seeing you try so hard to keep the tough act going– it’s the fight to remain in control that makes it so fun, after all. 

He tweaks your nipples without remorse, pinching and pulling between his fingers, causing a yelp to escape you before you could even hope to stop it. His face lowers, and for a moment you think he’s going to resume the messy, wet kisses, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips meet your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he decides on a spot to bite down on. 

Over and over, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck, creating a constellation of bruises in their wake. It’s a reminder, you realize– a reminder of what you chose to do with the nameless outlaw, evidence of what you allowed him to do to your body, an imprint of shame and desire that will follow you for the days to come. 

The noises that leave you are his absolute favorite– pretty sounds of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands have moved from gripping his shirt to his arms, nails breaking the surface of his skin and a pleasant sting accompanying it. He pulls away once satisfied with his work, another pleased, devious grin on his face as he admires what he’s done to your previously unmarred skin. 

He snakes his hand under your dress next, chuckling when he feels the wetness drenching your panties. "I knew I liked you," he says, tone low but smirk ever-present. Pulling away from you, he walks to the nearby sofa and sits comfortably, raising an eyebrow when you just stare instead of following him over. "C’mon over, sugar. Don’t make me wait." 

You step over slowly, doing your best to swallow down your nerves as you reapproach him. He pulls you to his lap when you’re in his reach, not wasting any time in getting you where he wants you. He lifts the bottom of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing you to his view. He takes a moment to admire the way your panties cling to your skin before he swiftly pulls them to the side.

There’s a gasp from you that follows, not just because of the sudden exposure, but the distinct sound of tearing that fills the space. Did he seriously just rip your underwear? “Oops,” he says with absolutely no sincerity in his voice, “what a shame. They were so pretty, too.”

He laughs when you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath and glare at him, endlessly amused by the way you react to him. There’s part of him that even considers making it up to you later– once he’s done with his own fun, of course. 

He moves his hand to his pants next, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with ease, pulling his (notably large) cock out so nonchalantly that it nearly leaves you stunned. He watches you, reveling in the way your expression changes, the annoyance you held just moments ago melting into a timid desire. 

You stare at him, shy and apprehensive, but still wanting, craving him. He makes a show out of spreading the accumulated pre-cum along his length, indulging in the way your eyes follow every move his hand makes, as if completely and utterly enraptured by him. And in a way, you are; you’ve never been so captivated by a stranger in your entire life the way you are now, intoxicated by the view of the man pumping his cock in front of you.

"Ride it,” he says when he finishes preparing himself for you, “Show me how desperate you are." His light, almost playful tone frames it as a request, but you can tell it isn’t– he’s telling you to do it. And if there’s anything you’ve learned so far, it’s that you can’t resist him, even if you wanted to; you’re under his charismatic spell, with no hope of escaping.

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what's to come before you travel further up his lap. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck, in a gesture that doesn’t at all help with your nerves. How does his hand on you suddenly feel so heavy? A trembling hand reaches for his cock, lining him up with your hole, but you pause before you lower yourself on it, looking at him with clear apprehension in your eyes. 

He raises his brow when you initially pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to scold you for making him wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, expression softening ever so slightly. “You can do it, darlin’. I know you can make it fit,” he leans closer to you as he speaks, his breath fanning your ear as he draws you in by the neck to meet him halfway, “because you’re a good girl who does everything she’s told, aren’t ya?” 

Fuck. If you weren’t positively dripping before, you definitely are now. How does he keep managing to say things that make your stomach twist and a shiver run down your spine? He leans back when you finally begin to sink down on him, hands resting behind his head as he takes in the sight of your scrunched brows and flushed cheeks. 

He's so fucking thick, easily the biggest you've ever taken, but the sting is the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. Your breathing is ragged by the time you are fully sat on him, your thighs completely flush with his. He allows you a moment of respite, letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full of him, though you aren’t entirely sure you can get used to it. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch– so much so, that it makes your entire body tremble. 

And if the outlaw underneath you is being honest, he’s just as equally affected. You’re squeezing him so tight, and if this were any other time he would completely forgo watching you ride him and instead pound straight up into you. But he wants to see how much more obedient you can be, how well you’ll take his orders, how well you’ll listen to him. He wants to see you lose yourself for him, become brainless in the pursuit of pleasure.  

You’re moving again before he even has to tell you to do it, whimpers and moans freely leaving your lips now, much too far gone to care anymore about keeping them held back. The man’s cool exterior cracks for just a moment, head falling back as a low groan escapes his throat. He won’t say it aloud, but you’re driving him crazy– the push and pull he had with you being the most fun he’s had in ages.

"Open your mouth," he commands when he lifts his head back up and you oblige easily, much to the stranger's satisfaction and amusement. Look at you, so full of fight when he first laid eyes on you, now reduced to a cock hungry mess. Listening to him without an ounce of hesitation, completely at his mercy– he loves it. 

He rests two of his fingers on your tongue, letting them linger there for just a moment before he pushes them down your throat. You sputter and gag around them, eyes immediately watering from the intrusion. "You can take it," he tells you when he notices the tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall, "C'mon sweetheart, take what I give you." 

Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth as he effectively chokes you on his fingers, slapping you on the thigh with his other hand when you show any sign of slowing down. You just barely register his voice praising you in your ears, tears openly falling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, forced to keep up the pace he set for you without faltering. 

He can’t help but let out a groan when he admires the view– you’re so fucking pretty when you’re crying, so breathless and ruined, all for him. He’ll give you a gift, he decides; reward you for playing your part for him so perfectly. He pulls his fingers out from your mouth, but there’s no time for you to catch your breath because he immediately brings them to your swollen clit. 

His touch is both harsh and fast, sparing you no time to allow oxygen into your lungs. A loud moan leaves you, your head falling forward and onto his chest from the combined feeling of his wet fingers on your clit and his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "F-Fuck, please, please–" You're so close, your entire body tingling with pleasure as the knot in your stomach grows incredibly taut.

"Aww, poor thing," he coos mockingly, another slap landing on your thigh when your pace stutters, "need to cum so bad, don't you? Dumb little thing needs my help?" You nod frantically, watery eyes pleading with him. You don’t know when you became so desperate, but it’s all you can think about now. You want it, need it, more than you’ve ever needed anything. 

"Mm, beg for it," he says, the wicked grin returning in full effect and drives you completely crazy. "If you do a good job, I might help." You whine, pace once again faltering as you’re driven to the brink of release, but not quite reaching it on your own. Your thighs burn from the exertion, knees aching and body impossibly tired. 

And so, you do the one thing you said you would never do– beg for him. “P-Please, please help me, wanna cum so bad,” your voice quivers, and he grins, evidently pleased by the display of desperation. He won’t give it to you that easily, though. Because who would he be if he wasn’t at least a little mean? 

"Oh, you can do better than that, I know ya can. Try again, darlin', show me you mean it," he says, hands grabbing your hips and forcing you still now, unable to do a single thing until you tell him what he wants to hear. He smirks when you let out a frustrated cry, your hips being held firmly in place and unable to seek any sort of stimulation. “Go on, sugar. Tell me how bad you need me.” 

“Please, I’ve been so good, gave you everything you wanted, so please, please, need you so bad, please-” you’re babbling now, words leaving you shamelessly, eyes once again watering as the desperation builds overwhelmingly high. You’re clearly no longer in your right mind, because if you were you would never do this. 

The satisfaction he feels from reducing you to this is indescribable, and he’ll be sure to reward you for indulging him so sweetly. He pulls you off his lap with ease, tossing you to the side of the sofa as if you're nothing but a doll. He grabs your arm after he stands, pulling you up and subsequently bending you over the arm of the sofa as he stands behind you. 

He sinks back inside you easily, hand reaching under you and fingers playing with your clit as he pounds into you from behind. Fuck, fuck, fuck- You're vision blurs, eyes rolling back as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. His other hand holds your hip roughly, his nails digging into your skin, not slowing his pace even as you cum around him.

Your hands claw in vain at the sofa cushions, finding no purchase. Your legs quiver, eyes squeezed shut as your left with no choice to accept the overwhelming pleasure that takes over senses. Reaching his hand to your neck now, he pulls you up to him by the throat, your back now flush against his chest. Your breath hitches when he squeezes, the pressure on your neck alarmingly good. 

"Tell me your name, sugar. Who is being so good for me, hmm? Need to know," his words tickle the shell of your ear, making your brain feel impossibly muddled. It takes you a few tries to get your name out given his unrelentingly fast pace, but you manage to stammer it out for him to hear. 

Your body shudders when he repeats it in your ear, the sound of your name falling from his lips making you clench around him. “Oh, you like that, hmm?” he teases you with a short laugh, though you are too far gone to be embarrassed by it. 

“Y-Yours, want to know yours too,” you manage to say, though it’s practically a beg. For better or worse, you want to put a name to the face of the person that made a mess of you. He hums in response, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll even tell you, but he does. 

Changbin. It sounds vaguely familiar, but your brain doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it at the moment– not with the way his cock is currently drilling into you. And in the same way that your name leaving him had an affect on you, the opposite does the same for him.

It makes him almost feral– an overwhelming desire to make you forget everything but his name, for nothing to remain in your mind but him. He loses his composure for the first time all evening, driven purely by his need to cum, with you being the sole reason for it. 

He releases his hold on your neck, letting you fall forward against the sofa. Noises no longer leave you, a pleasure so intense that all that escapes you are sharp, quick breaths. “So good, fuck, you’re so good, ‘m gonna cum-” you hear him pant out from behind you, his pace faltering for the first time as he chases his orgasm, his hold on your hips so intense it’s sure to bruise. 

You reach your high first, voice coming out in short, broken moans as your toes curl and body convulses under his hold. He pulls out at the last possible second, his cum spilling between your thighs and dripping between your legs. Your legs collapse when he lets you go, the armrest of the sofa being the only thing keeping you off the floor. You close your eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your harsh breathing. 

Changbin picks you up after tucking his softening length back in his pants, adjusting your position so you are now laying on the sofa properly, back comfortably nestled against the cushions. He lets your legs rest on his lap when he sits down, a subtle grin plastered on his face while he waits for you to finally open your eyes. 

“How ya feelin’, sugar? Did ya have fun?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face to match the cocky tone in his voice. Asshole. He knows what the answer is, and he just wants to hear you admit it.

“I’m not answering that,” you scoff, and he laughs, the amused glint returning to his eyes. Back to the cat and mouse, huh? That’s perfectly fine with him; he’ll play this game with you for as long as you let him. 

Changbin stands now, grabbing the bag he tossed aside earlier from off the floor and returning it to you. If you’re being honest, you’re surprised he’s keeping his word– you hoped he would, of course, but there was no guarantee. “What’s that look for, darlin’? I told you, I’m not a monster,” he says and you roll your eyes. He may not be a monster, as he puts it, but he’s definitely still an arrogant asshole. 

“I’m headin’ up for a bath, but you’re welcome to join me if ya like,” Changbin says, and once again going against your better judgment, you find yourself genuinely considering it. You should definitely leave– get your belongings back to your family, ride far away from him and never look back, and yet.. 

“I want in first,” you say as you stand, leaving your bag behind on the sofa as you walk towards where you know the bathroom to be. “Whatever ya say, darlin’,” he grins as you once again take control back in your own hands; you won’t have it for long, but if he wants the game to be fun, he needs to let the ball be in your court sometimes. 

The game of cat and mouse can’t exist without a little give and take, so for right now, he’ll give; so that when he takes, and takes, and takes, it’ll be that much more enjoyable. Watching as you strip yourself naked to enter the tub, smiling when you fight him on whether or not he should help you wash up and find you new clothes to wear, laughing when you grumble about deciding to stay for the night. Oh, he’s really looking forward to the fun he’ll have with you from now on.

[fortanuvasyama]

#THEY DID WHAT TO JASON?????#ALSO IF ROSE HAD TO RESUCITATE HIM IT MEANS HE DIED BC OF WHAT BRUCE DID????#omg

@crepus i spotted your tags and had to say something lol

the answer is... maybe??? idk what Jason would have done if he was brought into the fight under different circumstances, but he did choose to work with Joker B of his own free will (and agreed pretty quickly, though that might be more because the [supposed] plan was to kill Joker A) (and also bc Joker B has decided he's not the Joker after all and that he needs to kill Joker A after which I guess Joker B would... die? kill himself? i think? idk man) and he actually set up a distraction with Rose to prevent Bruce from interfering (bc I'd imagine Bruce wouldn't want him to kill Joker A 😒)

(side note: lost my shit laughing here at the entourage of actual bats following the batmobile)

(btw that kid with Rose up there ^ was part of Joker B's group and Jason had the condition that the kid be uninvolved if Joker B wanted Jason's help)

(that's why Rose has the kid with her, so Batman can help the kid)

ANYWAYS so Jason is at the fight because he wants to be/he has a chance to kill a Joker/Joker B gassed him into not being paralyzed by fear, so depending on which motivation you think is right then one could argue that it's Bruce's fault he's involved.

BUT ANWAYS.... the set-up here is: Joker B is driving a train that will (unbeknownst to Jason) crash into Gotham and cause a big boom. It's a trap to lure in Joker A - who wants to kill Joker B because there must only be one Joker, blah blah - and Joker A comes swooping in on a dirigible/blimp (filled with bombs) to blow up the train.

A big fight between them and the henchmen ensues, Jason gets Joker A at gunpoint, and then Joker B reveals the true plan, and Jason gets booted out of the conductor's car.

(btw i'm omitting panels that are unnecessary to my narration, there's more in-between chatter that makes the story flow better)

so Jason decides to go for the blimp and steals Killer Moth's suit-wings-jetpack-thing (no idea what it really is) to get there, and hijacks the blimp. He tries to call for Batgirl (Stephanie atm) and gets Batman instead, and outright tells Bruce that he chose to do this, and also that they need to stop the gas in the train and the bombs in the blimp somehow. But there's no way to do either in a way where the gas won't blow into the city anyway...

And so Jason's solution is...

a big explosion that eats up the gas with the bombs in the blimp.

(genuinely a miracle he's not dead just from that lmao)

And there's an argument to be made that, uh, Jason... drowned. And was dead. For a pretty solid amount of time.

and Rose resuscitates him!

Rose is a miracle-worker apparently lol

A N Y W A Y S the point is, yeah Bruce could be held responsible for part of this if you look at it a certain way. I definitely think Jason's plan of blowing up the ship he was on by crashing into something in order to save people is very reminiscent of a certain other time.....

.....yep.

[m-ilkiee]

Oh wow…that shit’s so messed up I’m sorry- Seeing how fucking brutal these two are to her, it lowkey makes me wanna get back at them somehow cuz I’m petty lol. Like I know it’s wishful thinking cuz it’s Mikey and Izana we’re talking about, and they have a shit ton more power than reader, but plsplspls I want them to suffer MORE WKAJWHEBV. At first, I’d imagine reader with some other man, but they both can easily get rid of him and punish her and make her suffer even more, so I drop that idea pretty quickly. Just let my girl live in peace for fuck’s sake…

OOHH!! Imagine how they’ll react when she completely…snaps. Just gone. An empty shell of who she was. I’m talking about legit no emotions or feelings or any type of reactions when they hurt her. Nothing. Completely dull to all their messed up antics. I once read a short scenario similar to this (it’s a yandere type thing), and the darling is exactly like this, so I wonder how the brothers would handle that. Would they give up on her? Would they get rid of her entirely due to anger? Would they at least try to do something? It doesn’t matter what they do, scream at her, hit her, give her “love” or “affections” or gifts. It simply doesn’t matter. She would not react at all.

OR OR. I’m sorry but I’m getting excited at the mere thought of those two suffering LKJWDBN. Maybe she, somehow in someway, manages to get away from them both and move to somewhere else far, FAR away. And they can’t even find her, it’s like she completely disappears from the face of the earth. All of her info is deleted on the internet and her socials (if she has any), and they just can’t track her down AT ALL. If they treat her like she’s lower than the dirt under their shoes, why bother anymore right? Not like they truly love her like she deserves anyway, might as well leave them. I wanna be the one to help her get away cuz that girl deserves nothing but the best fr :((

OR OR OR- (IM SORRY I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS AND IM LITERALLY VIBRATING RN. This is SO much fun, I love this series SO much). Imagine if she gets into a terrible accident. Car accident, someone stabbed her, hit her head hard. IDK. Whatever it is, she got hurt BAD. Like hospital-emergency-surgery-ASAP bad. Would they even care tbh? I mean, it means she has a chance of finally leaving Emma alone right? Their family can finally go back to normal, and they don’t have to fight her for Emma’s attention anymore. They should feel relieved, happy even, that she can be gone forever…right? Would be even better if they have no idea at first, so they start wondering why they don’t see her in campus or why she isn’t with Emma at parties anymore or why she isn’t picking up her damn phone or texting them back after literal weeks. Meanwhile she’s still at the hospital, in a coma, barely hanging on for dear life. If she dies…they shouldn’t be bothered, right? Especially Izana. (Honestly, idk if I want them to be devastated or nonchalant about reader’s death. Like the fucking audacity to feel sad about her death when you’re the one who LITERALLY made her life hell. But then they’d be just straight up assholes/psychos if they don’t gaf.)

Due to these thoughts, I’m very excited to see chapter 10 whenever it’s out. I know it’s still very early on, and the description or plot may change, but the summary is making me SHAKING. LIKE WYM BROKE THE CYCLE??? IS MY GIRL FINALLY FREE??? WYM AT WHAT COST??? SHE SUFFERS ENOUGH LET HER BE FREEE- anyways :)) I FEEL LIKE IM ANNOYING YOU WITH THESE ASKS IDK. IF SO I APOLOGIZE AJEFJN- One last question, the series only has 10 chapters right?

OKAY IM DONE I PROMISE LMAO.

FIRST OF ALL YOU'RE NOT ANNOYING ME AT ALLL! I've your ask fifteen times and I kick my feet and giggle cause how do I have such creative READERS I LOVE YALL NGL.

I lwk want reader to just start messing around with other men too, but like she's not that kind of person at all unfortunately. Plus she's seen enough with men after her father, her brothers and then the Sanos.

There's definitely a point where reader snaps and goes off the grid that they can't find her BUT I DON'T WANNA GIVE SPOILERS. Long story short, the two brothers aren't thrilled with the situation.

I believe pre Chapter 3, they won't really care, but post chapter 3, whew boy... if something happened to reader, Mikey's definitely going to start tweaking. Godforbid reader dies, every hospital staff treating her and their families will see jesus before tuesday. If reader dies or leaves Mikey post chapter 3, Mikey's going off the rails mentally and physically. Izana might be affected for a long while, but he can still bounce back, just a tad bit more cruel and he may or may not start sleeping with women that look like reader...

CHAPTER 10 will be hands down my favourite to write. Idk what I'll do w/ my life when monsters is over tbh (finish my other wips ofc)

[alexthesillybilly]

What if springtrap x reader but I write it from springtraps POV idk I wanna study him this is rlly similar to another thing I wrote btw if it feels familiar :P idk why but I love writing this exact scene lmao

God, how long has it been? Months? Years? Decades? How was I supposed to know? I haven't spoken to anyone since I was left in here, and I probably never will again. I'm still trying to figure out what to do to pass the time. At first my methods were a little more about escaping, but clawing at the walls and slamming my self against the door was both very painful, and was also not doing anything for me, so I stopped doing those pretty quickly. Then I remembered there were arcade machines in this room! But then I remembered that this is the parts and service room and they were out of order. And very unplayable. But that didn't stop me, I ended up disassembling and putting them back together a few times.

That got boring, too.

Now I'm not really sure what to do. I spend a lot of my time either fidgeting with loose wires or pacing around like some kind of scared animal. After I stopped having the indescribable dread of realizing I was trapped here, it changed to craving something. Anything, really. Whether it was hearing music from outside, seeing a color other than pitch black, feeling anything other than the freezing cold tile floor and my own pain.

I think I mostly craved company, though.

I was never into psychology, but speaking from experience, I'm pretty sure that completely depriving a human of any communication or entertainment for years (decades??) will fuck someone up.

There's some sort of noise around the door. It's happened a few times, usually someone who broke in trying to get into the room before discovering it's boarded up. I don't know who boarded up this room, but I'd like to have a talk with them. Only a little murder included. So I don't get my hopes up too much. They're not going to get in.

So maybe I get a little excited when for the first time, I actually DO hear the door crack open and light pour in.

Holy shit, it's happening.

I can finally get out of here.

I felt nearly manic at the sight. So imagine my thoughts when someone walked in.

I freeze. What do I do?

There is so much I want to say.

Can I even talk?

I don't know anymore.

Who is this?

I try to look at them without moving. Nobody I recognize. That's probably a good thing.

If I move, I might scare them.

On one hand, then I'd be able to leave.

But on the other hand, I need to talk to someone, ANYONE, so bad that I can't let then leave already.

So I stay still while they approach.

They must not be deterred by the sight of me, surprisingly, because they crouch down beside me like I'm not... like this.

"What the hell are you?" They laugh under their breath. Wow, okay. First words spoken to me in this long. I deserve that, though.

I need to talk so bad but how am I supposed to talk to anyone now? I don't even remember how it works, let alone if I physically could. I pray they'll ask a yes-or-no question soon.

They stand back up.

No. No, no, no, not already. They can't leave. I have to risk it.

I try my best to tell them not to go. It comes out as more of a noise you'd make on your deathbed, but it's enough to get them to stop in their tracks.

"No. Nope, I am NOT being your horror movie protagonist who dies first, nope. Not today." They turn to run out the door. This time I'm prepared. Kind of.

"No-" I manage to choke out before realizing how much it hurts to speak, and very pathetically falling against the wall in pain. I have to get the message through, though. "Don't go."

"Hooly shit." The person stares at me in horror. "I have so many questions."

Talking hurts so bad, but nothing hurts worse than my indescribable loneliness, so I'll just have to deal with that later. I have to say something.

"Me too."

[pansy-picnics]

Hiya!

I’m curious, what do you think uknighted dream would argue about and how would they apologise to each other?

Cause I personally think Cass hates apologising, Eugene’s not used to it, and Rapunzel according to the show can do no wrong!

Oh, and if you don’t mind me asking, are you planning on updating Children of the moon soon? Sorry, it’s just one of my favourite fics for this ship!

Thank you x

God ive been so bad about that fic i swear i have so many ideas for it but this year has been SOOO busy for me 😭😭 most of my free time has been dedicated to drawing and playing games cuz writing doesn’t come as naturally to me ngl….BUT SOON ENOUGH I WILL LOCK IN I PROMISE!!!! its been crossing my mind a lot more recently snd ive started a little bit of the next chapter…Ur guys’ support means the world to me im so happy to know people enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 and i desperately wish i had more time to dedicate to all my projects

as for your first question though….LMAO yeah the show did rapunzel DIRTY….Honestly it really depends for me, but i think you’re definitely right about cass and eugene. and rapunzel definitely struggles i think to apologize Genuinely, because she can get really overwhelmed with her guilt and anxiety to the point that she loses sight of the actual problem. its kind of a rough spot for all of them

I honestly haven’t thought abt it a lot so idk if i know what they’d fight about Specifically, but what i can come up with off the top of my head is ummm

rapunzel is a chronic Fixer. whenever someone expresses a problem to her shes quicker to try and “solve” it than she is to just. Listen because she kind of has grown up with the idea that everything is Her fault and She needs to fix everything. I think cass and eugene can end up feeling really unheard because of this. Usually it’s just something they can quickly talk through but when put on top of other conflicts it exacerbates things a LOT.

Raps, cass and eugene can all be INCREDIBLY stubborn and set in their ways and they sometimes struggle to hear each other out. rapunzel i think has her moments, but generally she isn’t too bad about it; eugene has a temper and he can be VERY petty but i think unless he REALLY has a reason to hold a grudge against you, he usually just needs about a week to cool down- but Queen of Anxious Attachment Cassandra Tangled (tm) can end up going AGES holding a grudge and just refusing to check in with anyone. as you probably can imagine it does not go well

i think bc rapunzel has such a strong belief that love is transactional she sometimes gets trapped in a cycle where she basically attempts to min-max her time with eugene and cass respectively because she worries if she isn’t spending “equal” amounts of time with them then it means she must not love them enough. as you might imagine this causes a lot more harm than good….

cass is REALLY REALLY bad at asking for help and being vulnerable and especially admitting when someone does something that hurts her. i think this causes a LOT of really stupid miscommunications between them. eugene or rapunzel are both usually able to talk her through it depending on who shes upset at…and it really helps to have a third party there who she trusts because otherwise it could easily just spiral out of control and cause her to grow bitter and distant (As seen in canon LOL)

Ummm….To be completely honest i cant really see a lot of situations where cass and eugene like, Genuinely fight after they get with rapunzel. they obviously still bicker a lot but like, frankly after they’ve both figured their shit out i just don’t think they have much of a reason to fight anymore. Their whole rivalry has always been really childish and most of the more serious stressors have already been taken care of by the time the series ends. i think most of their fights are just over stupid shit and get resolved within the hour. i think they’d have to both go through a MAJOR traumatic event to actually get as bad as they were in season 1 again LMAOOO

How they apologize definitely depends a lot on the situation (go figure) but i genuinely dont think they get into Big fights very often…so when it does happen it takes a toll on all of them.

eugene i imagine is a little extra but sincere. doesn’t do Too much because he doesn’t want to overwhelm the girls, but probably just picks a quiet night and orders takeout or makes a small dinner to talk over. sometimes it can take eugene a while to realize when he’s fucked up but when he DOES realize it, it hits him like a TRUCK and he IMMEDIATELY jumps to do everything in his power to rectify it. he’s a big softie <3

cass is a lot more prideful than raps and eugene whether she realizes it or not, so its a lot harder for her to admit her faults, even when she knows she was wrong. she doesn’t like to make a big deal of when she apologizes because it’s really embarrassing for her. she’s the kind of person to send the apology text to the group chat and have to like physically put her phone down and start pacing around the room. To me.

rapunzel, like i said struggles to genuinely apologize because her anxiety and guilt can just become so overwhelming….she usually has to spend a bit of time away before shes ready to Really talk things out. When she is she definitely shows it quietly but clearly, she writes little notes with a paper bouquet and leaves them around where the other two will find them. they leave her little notes back and let her come to them when she’s ready.

admittedly i’m Not good with thinking of character conflicts off the top of my head, they have to come to me in Visions, and i just don’t end up thinking about a lot of ukd conflicts so hopefully this is okay LOL…..I would love to hear other ppls thoughts….. :3

[our-death-means-flag]

Hi!! Would you be able write ed taking care of reader? Basically like reader falling into a bad depression spiral and ed being the first to recognize what’s going on and trying to help them through it? I’d like it to stay platonic if that’s cool bc also lesbian here I just like baby girl-ifying these old dudes lmao Thank you!! Also loving ur writing so far!!!

For No Reason at All

Ship: Edward Teach & Reader (platonic) Notes: As much as you usually like the whole “talk it through thing, now, you really really don’t want to talk. You’re no stranger to dark days when it feels like nothing good will ever happen to you. It’s always been something you could mostly ignore. Of course, the Revenge is a different kind of ship… Warnings: depressive episode, negative self talk, some slight disordered eating (skipping meals) Title Song: I Can’t Handle Change - Roar

You woke up and really didn't want to get out of bed. 

You’d been feeling shitty for the past few days and you really should have seen it coming. That was how it had always worked. But you’d really thought it would be different now, better.

You were much better off now. You were on a good ship, you had a good crew, good captains, a fucking salary, friends. Hell, if someone had asked you months ago what your perfect job would be, this would be pretty damn close. What more could you possibly need? What reason did you have to still feel so awful when everything was going so incredibly well?

A part of you wanted to put your fist through a wall, you wanted to scream at the futility of it all. But you didn’t. You were too exhausted.  Another part of you wanted to curl up in a ball and just stay in bed. That was much more tempting. Being able to just stay here and rot sounded great. 

But you had work to do. You’d worked through this sort of thing before and you could do it again. The crew needed you.

But did they really need you around? You’re no master pirate by any stretch of the imagination. What could you possibly do for them? You were just another pair of hands. No… Actually, you’re just dead weight. And everyone else would be much better off if you weren’t-

Nope.

You sat up quickly. No, you couldn’t do that. If you let your brain go off on these ridiculous tangents then you’d never get out of bed. You grabbed a shirt and pants and got dressed, not bothering to make an effort beyond that. You pulled your fingers through your hair as you walked and immediately got to work.

You didn’t bother getting anything for breakfast. you felt absolutely awful and you knew that it would all taste like nothing and you didn’t want to waste Roach’s food.

You didn’t deserve any.

No.

You shook your head as if that would erase your nasty thoughts. It didn’t of course but it was worth a shot. As the rest of the crew filtered onto the deck you got a few concerned looks. That was new. On every other ship you’d worked on, no one gave a shit if you didn’t eat or if you felt bad. But on the Revenge? You knew that everyone cared but you didn’t want to talk about it all right now and you didn’t want to bother them with your stupid problems.

Rather than talk to them, you scaled the rigging. You rationalized that someone needed to check it anyway and it might as well be you. If you were able to run away from your problems, that was just a bonus.  You stayed up there as long as possible. You checked everything that was possible to check and double checked everything as well.

Of course you couldn’t stay in the rigging all day. But you admittedly did wait just long enough for the crew to go inside for lunch before climbing down. You briefly considered going to grab food but decided against it, not only would it put you at risk of getting into a conversation about how you were feeling, but you knew that no matter what it was it wouldn’t taste like anything.  (Maybe you could risk getting stabbed by Roach to grab something small later.)

Still hoping to avoid the crew, you walked all the way to the head of the ship. You rested your elbows against the railing and stared out at the sea. You knew you couldn’t avoid the crew forever but you could damn well try. You figured that someone would eventually find you and then you’d have to talk about things but you were a coward and you didn't want to.

 If you’d been in your right mind you probably would’ve noticed beforehand but as you were, Edward nearly gave you a heart attack when he clasped a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, spinning around to face him. 

“There you are, mate. Everyone was wondering where the hell you disappeared too and-“  Ed’s voice trailed off as he seemed to take you in. “You alright?”

You forced a smile, though judging from Ed’s eyes you knew it wasn’t convincing. “I’m alright. Didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“Y/N,” Ed spoke carefully. “It’s been fucking hours since anyone’s seen you.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No… it’s not been…” You looked around and properly saw your surroundings. It was sunset. “Uh… What time is it?”

“Just past eight bells.” Ed answered, still staring at you.

“Shit.” You mumbled. You really had been standing here for hours. You had the first dog watch slot today. You needed to get going. “Fuck. The watch. I’m so sorry. I must’ve… zoned out or something… Sorry.” You moved to leave but Ed caught your arm.

“No. You’re not on watch today, remember?” 

You froze. “I…” you stammered. Ed was right. You’d had the watch tonight but you’d swapped with Pete so he and Lucius could do something together. You had watch tomorrow. “Fuck.” 

Ed sighed, he walked up beside you and rested his arms on the railing. “So…���

Before he could ask, you interrupted. “Sorry Captain. It won’t happen again.” Ed raised a brow. Shit. You needed an excuse or something… “I just didn’t sleep well last night.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You hadn’t slept well at all but that was just another symptom of the actual problem.

Ed actually chuckled sadly. “That’s a good excuse. Used it myself a few times.” He sighed.  “Let me guess,” Ed mused, “You feel awful. Like nothing matters, nothing you do matters and you don’t matter.” You withered under the accuracy. “Roach mentioned you didn’t have breakfast and you missed lunch and I bet that’s because you knew it wouldn’t taste like anything right?”

He glanced over at you and you almost winced. Ed had always had such expressive eyes but this time you felt like he was seeing through you and there wasn’t anything good to see there. 

“That… ah, that obvious, huh?” You stammered out. Was it really that obvious? Was just how shitty you felt just written on your face? You couldn’t help but think back to all the times you felt like this around other people. It was that obvious… And no one ever cared…

“Nah,” Ed shook his head. “It’s not that. You hide it pretty well. You just look the way I feel when my head’s being a piece of shit.”

You paused, seemingly realizing what he’d shared with you. “You… You feel like that?” You hated how fragile and almost hopeful your voice sounded. 

Ed sighed, looking ahead at the ocean around you. “Yup. Have on and off for quite a while.” 

“But you’re…” you fumbled for words. You decided to just gesture vaguely at him.

Ed laughed, but there was a kind of tension that wasn’t usually there. “Thanks. But yeah. I do. Doesn’t matter what I do or who I am…” He paused then added a sardonic laugh and a “It fucking sucks.”

“That’s an understatement…” you mumbled. 

 It was odd. Sure you’d gotten to meet Ed as “Ed” rather than Blackbeard but even when he wasn’t Blackbeard, he was so charming and interesting. You certainly knew why so many people were drawn to him. It felt completely wrong for him to feel the way you do.

“You can come hang out in our cabin with Stede and I?” Ed offered, almost out of the blue. 

You immediately rushed to decline. “No, no, I couldn’t possibly bother you both.”

“Wouldn’t be a bother. I’m inviting you. Besides I’m sure Stede wouldn’t mind if you turned up. Hell, he’d probably appreciate having another person around.” Ed was quick to counter. 

“I…” you considered refusing again but in all honesty spending the evening with Ed and Stede sounded nice… “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am!” Ed replied quickly then paused. “I mean… unless you’d feel better if you just went back to your cabin… that’s fine too.” He finished off a bit nervously. 

“Actually spending the evening with you two would be lovely.” Honestly the idea of going back to your cold lonely cabin felt sad. But one question remained. “Why offer though?”

“Because I know how much feeling like that sucks and if I can do anything to help you then I want to. I mean, we're friends.” Ed’s eyes widened. “Are we? Friends that is.”

You smiled somewhat awkwardly. “I think so. Yeah. If you’d want us to be.”

“Hmm. Friends.” Ed mumbled more to himself than to you. He sounded almost proud. Then he glanced at you with a grin. “We should probably head in then. Though I will warn you, Stede just got a new tea set and he’s very excited about it so expect lots of tea.” 

You chuckled. “Sounds good to me.” As Ed turned to leave, you caught his arm the same way he’d caught yours. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Ed grinned. “Of course! We’re friends, remember. And you’re welcome to stick around with us for as long as you need.”

You smiled back. It hadn’t gotten rid of the weight in your mind but it certainly felt so much lighter with your friends around you.

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

author of all-stars: behind the scenes on ao3 here (hi geo!!! it’s corn!!) and i was thinking. what if we took the ‘it was scripted by the producers/hosts for better drama’ mentality and applied it to disventure camp? could be fun

so, NEW PROMPT FOR ANONS!

Taking DSVC as it is, but imagining that certain things might have been exaggerated/fabricated for the cameras:

1. what would you pick to have been scripted, 2. why, and 3. what is actually happening behind the scenes?

I’ll go first!

Jake was told by Krystal to act jealous of Aiden and exaggerate how hung-up he was over Tom. In reality, Jake was kind of over Tom but still kind of missing him - it was complicated, but mostly internal, and the host didn’t think it would make for good drama. So Krystal threw in a good old-fashioned jealousy/misunderstanding arc to spice things up.

Debating between two options: EITHER Jake had to sign some kind of NDA, so no one else knew Jake was faking and they genuinely thought he had regressed into a paranoid man-baby, until after Tom was eliminated and he could finally come clean once the cameras were off him

OR

Everyone knew the whole time and Jake and Aiden were already hitting it off behind the scenes, which is why they became best of besties so quickly - they’d already been friends for weeks leading up to this point. (And maybe more? Aiden has two hands after all.)

something like:

Aiden: “and then I could say something like ‘oh, Jake hasn’t started shit for an entire hour, must be a record’!”

Jake: “haha amazing! OOH what if I made a dig at you being Tom’s ‘sidekick’?”

Aiden: “perfect, i mean it’s not like the producers have me doing much else lmao”

- @cornfields-td-nonsense

I LOVE THIS!!! YES PLS i wanna see this!!! im definitely gonna submit my own ideas for this once i clear out the inbox