#I get that we need better options I get that both sides are fucked I get that all choices with leave you with blood on your hands

[m0onjellies]

hitting every American who has the audacity to be pessimistic assholes who need politics to be perfect or else they’ll just abandon the fucking country with a baseball bat fyi

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

[cloudzoro]

It's hard between so many options, but starting very lightly, maybe Shanks with prompt 19. and 29. bc why not?

I should write more for Shanks!!! (19 - exhibitionism, 29 - cockwarming)

cw: fem!reader, brat tamer!shanks

Cockwarming (Shanks x Reader)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You've docked up on a new island, and the red-haired pirates immediately scoured the place for a bar. Shanks had insisted you wear a dress he had bought stolen for you.

He sits at the bar, watching you and your pretty dress as you talk to Beckman. You're fairing no better, eyes barely leaving your boyfriend and his open shirt. Beckman grunts in disgust as he notices you and your captain eye-fucking from across the room.

Shanks looks content to sit and watch you, but you've had enough of subtly rubbing your thighs together under the table. You need your captain, and you need him now. You excuse yourself from the table and saunter over to Shanks. He expects you to sit in the seat next to him, but instead, you plant yourself on his lap. He brings a hand up to steady you as he greets you cheerfully.

“Hey, Beautiful,” he says, leaning up to kiss you. You reciprocate his greeting, letting the nail of your index finger trail suggestively down his chest as you speak.

“Hi, handsome,” You lean in close to his ear to tell him exactly how hot and bothered you are. Hearing you beg for his cock in public has him both harder than he's ever been and panicking. “I'm so wet, Captain. I need your cock so fucking badly.” His face is flushed red as he quickly scans the room. He relaxes a little when he realises that all the bar patrons - red hair pirates included - are far too wasted and aren't paying attention to anything you're doing.

“I'll take good care of you when we get back to the ship.”

“No, I want you now,” you whine, turning so your back is against his chest, and your ass is sat comfortably over his bulge. He apprehensively reaches under the skirt of your dress. “you could just slip it in. No one would know,” you suggest, grinding your hips down.

He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder as his rational mind wrestles with his desire for you. All it takes is for you to guide one of his wandering hands up to reach the fabric of your soaked panties for him to give in. He pulls his cock free as fast as he can under the shield of your dress and pulls your panties to the side. Shanks gently kisses the back of your neck before helping you ease down onto his thick cock. Once he's inside you, his hands grip your hips, holding you in place. You try to rock your hips, but you're no match for the strength of an emperor. You try your best to keep the desperate moan that threatens to escape as Shanks groans into the skin of your shoulder about how tight you feel, clenching around his cock.

“You wanted to be a brat and beg for my cock in public like this; now you can take your punishment like a good girl. If you sit here patiently - no loud moaning, no moving, no getting up - then I'll reward you when we get back to the force.” he punctuated his instructions with a peck on the side of the forehead. “If you're extra good, maybe we'll invite Benn to join us.”

You look over to the table you were previously sitting at to see Beckman intently watching you with a smirk on his face and a hand palming at his very obvious bulge.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48

taglist always open!!!

[ellecdc]

Forbidden love, has to hide it from everyone around them, likes doing the nasty in places they could get caught (quite the thrill) and they end up getting caught

Could this be a prompt for any of the ones you are currently writing or future ? 🫡🙏

mhm, mhm, mhm, loved it - give me 14 of them. [I knew I wanted to do this pairing for it, and finally got around to it!] also, since we're obviously fluff-city and happy-ending central over here, it's low on angst

Remus the Sibling Stealer

poly!moonwater x Potter!sister who need to find better hiding spots [1.2k words]

CW: first part is mature/18+, NSFW, oral (m receiving), professing love, sibling dynamics

You felt vindicated in your efforts when you chanced a look up at the boys above you and were gifted with the most beautiful image. 

It seemed Regulus was only still upright thanks to Remus’ grasp around his middle; scarred hands resting languidly at Regulus’ bare hips thanks to the fact that his trousers were currently situated around his ankles. 

Regulus was wrecked; his head thrown back and resting on Remus’ shoulder and his mouth hanging open in a silent moan as Remus worked another love bite into his neck.

“You’re missing quite the show, Reg; our girl looks gorgeous from up here.” He murmured into Regulus’ shoulder, earning him a pitiful whimper as Regulus’ neck appeared incapable of lifting the weight of his head.

“Come on, pretty boy; look at her.” He encouraged, placing his palm at the back of Regulus’ head and positioning it so that his face was pointed resolutely at you.

The sight was almost too much for you; Remus looking down at you like you looked good enough to devour whole from above Regulus’ shoulder, his hand roving the expanse of Regulus’ waist, and Regulus’ red and teary face looking down at you like you were both his salvation and damnation. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t. I’m- I can’t, I’m gonna-”

You responded simply by taking his cock further into your throat and humming in acknowledgement as you felt him tense.

“Fuck baby, I’m-”

And you swallowed; your throat constricting around him as he fell over the edge, coming with a cry.

You fell back onto your heels as you caught your breath and looked up at the pair; Remus petting Regulus’ hair down from its rather rumpled state as he, too, caught his breath. 

“Merlin, you’re bloody good at that.” Regulus breathed at last, causing Remus to bark a surprised laugh.

“Is that how you say thank you, Black? We’ll have to work on your manners.” Remus taunted as he patted his hip.

“I thought you Sacred 28 children were raised to be gentlemen.” You teased as well.

Regulus grumbled miserably as he bent down to retrieve his pants. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from speaking about my parents while my dick is out, amour.”

“Did Reggie just say dick!?” You squealed in laughter. “How terribly uncouth.”

“Would you lower your voice.” He hissed at you then; tone harsh but face dutifully lovestruck. “Lest you wish our brothers to hear.”

“Lest.” You snorted as you went to stand; Remus quickly at your side to help you up. 

“We really need to tell your brothers soon, you two.” Remus added solemnly, causing both you and Regulus to groan in unison.

“Listen, if they find out, it’s me they’re going to castrate.”

“And?” Regulus asked as he buttoned his trousers. 

Remus glared at him. 

“But they’re so dramatic, Rem.” You whined as you sat on an overturned crate.

Was the secret passageway between Honeydukes and the castle an ideal place for canoodling with your brother's best friend and your brother’s best friend’s brother?

No.

But when you had brothers like Sirius and James, who had a charmed map of the entire castle that told them exactly where everyone was at any given time (thanks to your horribly stupid boyfriend [boyfriend? Could you call Remus that when the three of you only ever met in private? You’d have to ask him] who helped create said map), options were limited. 

“I don’t like lying to them.” Remus argued then.

“You think we do?” Regulus asked, to which you and Remus answered ‘yes’ quickly. “Yeah I do.” He relented. 

“I really don’t feel good about it guys and…I, I don’t know, I love you guys and I want to be able to love you all of the time, not just some of the time.” Remus admitted softly then.

You and Regulus each seemed completely dumbfounded by both the admission of love and the vulnerability of your [yup, you were definitely going to start calling him your] boyfriend.

“Well how the hells am I supposed to argue with that?” Regulus spat with no ire as he pulled Remus in for a kiss. 

“What do you say, dove?” He asked you as he and Regulus pulled apart. “Do you have an argument for that?” 

Yes.

You had plenty.

First of all, you didn’t want to share this with your brother because he would react in one of two ways: he could either a) be horrified and try to forbid the three of you from seeing one another or [and perhaps more disturbingly] b) be so overjoyed at the idea of love that he becomes a unwelcome quasi-fourth in your relationship.

But Remus loves you. Loves.

And perhaps more importantly, you love Remus, and this was important to Remus.

Son of a bitch, “Fine.” You harrumphed. 

“Yeah?” He asked hopefully around a laugh, Regulus smiling at you as they came to stand above you.

“Yeah.” You breathed out as Remus took both sides of your face in his hands and brought his lips to yours.

“My sweet girl.” He murmured reverently.

You smiled up at him as Regulus pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“So are we really doing this? Are we actually going to tell them?”

“Tell who what?” James’ voice echoed through the passageway; the three of you whipping your heads towards the sound to see James and Sirius coming around a corner. 

And it appeared that, despite your best intentions, none of you were quite willing to actually share the news with your brothers/best friends.

But apparently, you didn’t have to.

Apparently, your well rumpled hair from Regulus’ hands, your swollen lips and smudged mascara, Regulus’ belt hanging loose and his uniform shirt still untucked from his trousers, and Remus’ awkward shift in an attempt to hide his bulge which was still at half mast (though falling quickly now) said it all.

“Wha-” Sirius started, though the question died on his lips as he continued scrutinising the three of you. 

“I…I don’t- I don’t understa- I….” James tried then, also to no avail. 

Peter - the bastard - took that moment to appear around the corner then, lifting his head from fiddling with his wand to see the three of you standing there being stared down by James and Sirius like you were in some off-brand western standoff. 

“Oh? Oh! Oh… are you guys shagging?” He asked ineloquently. 

That seemed to restart your brothers’ brains as they both shouted “my brother!?” and “my sister!?” in unison. 

“Rem, it’s been nice knowing you and your bollocks.” You murmured solemnly. 

“Seconded.” Regulus agreed before the two of you took off in a sprint down the passageway and away from your brothers, boyfriend, and Peter.

“Merlin, Moony; you really know how to pick ‘em…leaving you to the wolves like that.” Peter laughed as he carried on ahead; slapping a hand on Remus’ back as he passed whilst Sirius and James continued standing there with their mouths agape. 

“Does it make it any better to know that I’m absolutely head-over-heels in love with them?” Remus asked cautiously then.

“Minutely.” James gritted out then, earning him an elbow in the gut from Sirius. 

“I expect to be allowed two weeks of moping and muttering.” Sirius bargained.

“One week.” Remus countered.

“Nine days.” James tried then.

"Eight?"

"Eleven." Sirius countered.

"Nine." Remus backtracked.

James and Sirius shared a look before James turned his gaze back to Remus. "Deal."

“Fuckin’ hells.” Sirius griped as he ran a heavy hand down his face. “This was not on my bingo card this year.”

“Sorry mate.” Remus offered then, earning him a glare from his best friend.

“No you’re not, you brother-fucker.”

This was going to be a long nine days.

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

[chrysalis-the-butterfly]

What I Mean When I Say, "I Ship Huskerdust"

When I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean that I think it would be a perfect example of a healthy relationship. Because it wouldn't be.

They've both got issues that they would need to work through if they wanted their relationship to succeed.

On Angel's side, there's the fact that his prior interactions with Husk basically consisted of him flirting with Husk, and Husk making it clear that he wasn't interested, and Angel ignoring that and doing it again. That's harassment.

Yes, Angel stops doing it after Episode 4, but he never explicitly apologises for it. That was a missed opportunity, in my opinion. It was a change for the show to say loudly and clearly, "Hey, trauma sucks, we get that, but it's not an excuse to treat people badly yourself. You grow by owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better than the person who hurt you."

Speaking of trauma...

Angel is being abused by Valentino and exploited in the porn industry. That's not a personal failing. It's not Angel's fault. But it has affected him deeply, and it's something that he and Husk would need to work through.

It's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Angel will cry, Angel will get angry, Angel will lash out. He will behave inappropriately, and he will keep being hypersexual because he knows how to do it and sometimes it feels like the safest option. And he will have no idea how to just rest with a loved one and trust them. So Husk will need to be the bigger person and take all the ups and downs and keep loving Angel through the dark days.

But I don't know if Husk has what it takes to do that.

That leads me nicely onto the issues on Husk's side. For starters, there's his judgemental attitude. He's a gambler, and therefore believes he can read people and know everything about them. Angel's "It's not an act!" outburst shakes Husk and makes him realise that he didn't really know what was going on.

But even after that, Husk is still judging Angel. It happens in Episode 6, when Angel is offered drugs by Cherri Bomb and Husk says, "Look, you wanna fuck up all your progress, be my guest. I just ... I just thought you were better than that."

Addicts can relapse if they go back to their old environments and old relationships. It happens. And it's probably not a good idea to be so condemnatory about it.

Can you imagine what Husk's reaction would be if Angel really did relapse? Would Angel feel safe opening up to Husk again if he knew how badly Husk could take it?

Sometimes, it seems as though Husk puts Angel on a pedestal. In Episode 8, when he tells Angel, "I guess you have changed," Angel doesn't look convinced, instead changing the subject. Husk sees Angel as better than Angel thinks he is.

And that goes hand-in-hand with when he was judging Angel more harshly in earlier episodes. Husk applies higher standards to Angel.

I think part of the reason why Husk is so hard on Angel is because Husk sees something in Angel that he doesn't see in himself - youth and potential. Husk has made it clear that he isn't trying to get into Heaven. He probably doesn't think he deserves it. That's why he told Angel not to look for answers to problems at the bottom of a bottle, but continued to drink himself.

My theory is that Husk is working on Angel because he finds it easier than working on himself.

It's much easier to judge and boss around others than to acknowledge and rectify your own flaws. To borrow a metaphor from Jesus Christ himself, Husk is trying to take specks of sawdust out of Angel's eye while he's still got plenty of planks in his own eye.

One of those planks being his complicity in the Overlord system.

Yes, I should probably mention that Husk used to be an Overlord. He used to participate in the very system that is now trapping and torturing Angel.

And he gambled with the souls that he owned! He put their afterlives at stake! Can you imagine being owned by Husk, thinking you knew where you stood, and then waking up one day to be told that you were now owned by someone else? Potentially someone as bad as Valentino?

(Now, I don't think Husk ever actually played a game with Valentino, given that he can't seem to remember Val's name in Episode 6, but still, the implications are horrifying.)

Angel didn't have too big a reaction when Husk opened up about his past. But that's probably because he was still reeling a bit from his own outburst. Once it had sunk in, how did he feel?

How can Angel feel safe and loved around someone who used to own souls and gamble with them carelessly? Someone who apparently still has his Overlord powers? Someone who could turn into yet another Valentino in the wrong circumstances?

How can a romance work?

Can a romance work?

Despite all of that?!

No, when I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean, "I think they're fluffy and adorable and 100% unproblematic." I mean, "Huskerdust contains interesting dynamics that are fun to explore." There's something about their interactions that I enjoy.

And Huskerdust could be a good way for the cartoon to dive into its themes of redemption and second changes.

Husk could change Angel for the better. We can see that, after Episode 4, Angel is willing to be more honest about what he's going through. He actually tells Niffty about the gruelling 16-hour shift Valentino put him through, instead of trying to pretend he's been all right.

If they became an official couple, Husk could show Angel what it's like to have someone genuinely care for him and his wellbeing, not just use him for money-making or self-gratification. Since Husk isn't interested in Angel's hypersexual porn star persona, it would be a chance for Angel to take the time to figure out who he (Anthony?) really is.

Angel could change Husk for the better, too. Other Tumblr bloggers have pointed out that Husk seemed to be drinking a little less after Episode 4. Perhaps watching Angel attempting self-improvement encouraged Husk to give it a go as well, albeit in a more low-key way.

And if Husk was the one who got Angel out of his contract with Valentino, that would be a great culmination of his character arc. It would be his own personal redemption for participating in the cruel Overlord system, because he'd be freeing someone from an Overlord's control. He'd be correcting his past mistakes. I for one would love to see that in a future season.

That is what I mean when I say "I ship Huskerdust."

TL;DR Angel and Husk are not perfect people, not by a long shot - but they could be perfect for each other.

[phoenixyfriend]

Remember my post about Anakin pulling a Mike Murdock? Yeah, no, I have a full on AU concept now (with contributions by @threebea! indented)!

He lies so hard about having a brother that the universe invents a twin from scratch for him. It happens when Anakin is like twelve.

Anakin was just committing to the bit on a mission because he was bored.

The Force was also bored.

Oh no Anakin force manifests a sibling Obi-Wan: …That's not how the Force works. Anakin: You tell the Force that. Obi-Wan: Well, I suppose this would be your half-brother since the Force is your shared parent. Obi-Wan after the initial shock: This might as well happen.

New brother is better at some things and worse at others, as any person is. Anakin is, naturally, a fucking mess about all that, worries he'll be replaced, etc.

Obi-Wan just brings this to the Council and nobody can DENY this Skywalker from the Jedi after they already took the first one. So. Mace volunteers.

This Skywalker is a bit more Force than Anakin, got glowing eyes and visions and the Animal Communion buff. But is worse at flying, worse at tech, and unfathomably worse at people. Which is a FEAT, since Anakin's not too hot at social skills in the first place.

Mace has his hands full in many ways, including "keep this child from walking face first into the wall."

Obi-Wan: We are not calling him Anagain.

Anakin had many mixed feelings but! If he's going to have family then he's going to commit!

The other option is that the brother is younger by enough that the Older Brother instincts kick in, but I think the one-sided twin rivalry is funnier.

Anakin: I'm a big brother now. Anagain: I think we're supposed to be twins. Anakin: I have more worldly experience. Anagain: I'm taller. Anakin: wut Anagain: alpha twin alpha twin (that's his nickname until you come up with actual name lol) Obi-Wan: Well, I'm taller than both of you, and while that is the case you both need to listen to me. Anagain: (flash of foresight) So, not for long Obi-Wan: What? Anagain: Nothing. Mace: (the Shatterpoints are blinding) Yeah, I'll be taking this one. More seriously tho, Anakin definitely torn between what if everyone likes him better he's born from the force what if he's the chosen one what if and also: I have a brother I have family I need to take care of him. Probably some fun twin force bond too. Oh man Sheev after digesting all of that would definitely try to get some jealousy going.

Anakin talks about the new brother with terms like Freshly Hatched and Innocent Baby and it's mostly a joke except that now HE thinks Palps is a creep when it's aimed at Not Him.

Palpatine: When do I get to meet him? Anakin: [absolutely not] Mace won't let him [Yeah that'll work] Mace: Yeah, absolutely not, he didn't help save Naboo there's no reason for my Padawan to have a relationship with the Supreme Chancellor

I've decided to call the brother Aion (EY-yon). I like the whole thing about Anakin's name being based on Ananke, even if it's a disputed thing, so I go for Greek myth when doing alt names for siblings.

Mace still bitter about having to let Palps get time with Anakin not about to do the same if he can help it. Although that comic takes place later eh (handwaves) still The Jedi might try to be hush hush about where aion came from anyway since he would fall directly under Jedi business

Help I'm imagining Mace and Obi-Wan on a walk and the twins are on child leashes. Anakin because ADHD will have him trying to run off to look at something. And Aion because he's going to be so distracted by visions that he will walk into traffic.

"Can we send a letter to mom so she knows he exists?" The other thought was ANAKIN holding the child leash for Aion, and then Obi-Wan or Mace holding the one for Anakin. Lil chain.

Aion: Hey… I know I've only existed for a few months, and yes my memories of before are sort of built by the Force, but I'm pretty sure the Supreme Chancellor is evil. Mace: You saw that in a vision? Aion: No, he's just super creepy. Bad vibes.

Obi-Wan: Of course he's evil, he's a career politician. Anakin: What about your friend from Alderaan? Obi-Wan: That's different.

One of these boys is constantly zoning out. The other is smiling, but the smile contains murder.

They're both adhd but with wildly different sides of it.

EXACTLY

Also.

Aion: [silent, a bit upset but mostly chill] Anakin, holding his hand: He asked for no pickles!

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Grabbing König's body when you think he isn't looking. König x Pervert reader. Established relationship/situation, whichever way you wanna read it. FUCKK I ADDED COMFORT FOR KÖNIG AT THE END I SUCCUMBED IM SOFT ASF.

Looking for a quick squeeze of his stomach when you hug him from behind. Hand sliding from the front of his hip all the way to his shoulder. Downright dirty and seamless. Sure the man whiplashes every time he feels someone touching but you think you're slick enough to just get this quick feel. Just while he reacts. Got it, scott free right?

"Ah there you are Schatz, scared me for a moment."

—

Your hands reaching over his sleepy form in bed while you 'look for something'.

"Move aside König gotta grab the-"

And your fingers are squeezing at his tits, sliding across as your arm squishes against his breasts, just enough to linger on the way his boobs surround yours like a pillow before you say aw shucks! Guess the water isn't there! Silly you!

"Sorry love, must've forgotten", you didn't even try to conceal the smile in your voice.

—

The last straw was when you were out at the beach. You couldn't resist yourself! Who could blame you when he was just wearing those tighty whiteys of shorts! A size too small too! What a slut!

You just had to cop a feel. Or two. Or three. C'mon couldn't he see you we're practically cumming over it!

"You want to help me with my sunscreen? That ist nice Schatz." And you're kneading at his back. Drooling over the way his muscles dented under your skin.

"Ach- I can reach there- No? You want to do it?? Hm, okay?" And you're creaming over his lap, lathering the sunscreen as if you were molding his thighs for him. Listening to his timeless gasps as you relax the sore muscles, they deserve a little break too from carrying this behemoth for so long. After all he's been so good you both deserve a little treat too.

—

It's hard not to act so perverted when he looks at your food with those eyes. Soft, pleading, almost naive but you'd know better than to call the monster that. He's only soft around you, and you'll take advantage of it.

Soft enough to let you feed him. A purposefully small cookie in your pointer and index while you carefully balance it on the sides. Fuck, his lips were so soft shit you're cumming-

"Ooh ja, tastes good", and he huffs out the hot air. Hopefully he didn't notice how your hands trembled.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

But he did.

"Schatz? We need to communicate better I believe."

"It's about how you've been...touching me. I find it rather confusing."

A pause and a sigh.

"Be honest with me, do you enjoy me only for my body? I do not care if you do but ah, just be truthful, bitte."

And oh how his eyes softened at you while yours lusted at him. Your heart was all for him couldn't he see that? But he's no mind reader. Just a man who held you close after you talked with him.

"I'm sorry, I love you." And all he can do is just dry heave into your shoulder. Anxiety clawing away at him from the first hug you shared down to the latest, ripping him up inside out until his words were forced out of him.

Silent once again. Much more than he was at the beginning but he's happier. Even while your hands pat his back, trying not to come across as sensual while you usher him closer. Just close enough for him to rest on you. He just wants to be the only one you think of, not just the body you think of :(.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

You ease up on the touches and he's eased up. Or you can tell him downright and he'll be calmer when you're clear about it, two options and a healthy[Ish] relationship.

Masterlist

[leah-lover]

Royal support part 3.

Jenni Hermoso x Alexia putellas x royal!reader

Part 1. Part 2

You knew that you didn't have much energy and that the sex would tire you out. However, you didn't realize the extreme extent it would take. You slept for a long time, longer than you planned for. You were awoken by a sharp pain coming from your wound. You rolled your head around in your pillow to try and find some comfort for the pain but you didn't find any. You then forcefully opened your eyes to find an empty bed with only you in it covered by a blanket. The blanket which was originally of baby blue color turned into a darker more damp version. You were quick to realize that your wound had been bleeding and the blood leaked through to the blanked. You lifted it up slowly hissing through the pain. You couldn't get up or reach for your phone or your purse so you resulted in calling for your lovers to help.

“ Jen, ale.” You semi-yelled.

They quickly responded to your cry. Their reaction to you got you startled. In their defense their lover was naked bleeding and her blanket was also covered in blood.

“ Jenni, ale, my pain killers in my purse please. “ As soon as you said that Jenni hurried to get you a glass of water while Alexia got you medicine.

“ Hey where does it hurt? Do we need to take you to the hospital? Or call Antonio.?” She said as calmly as she could.

“ No mi Reina I am gonna be fine just get me the first aid kit from the bathroom please “

“ I think we could be better off if you called somebody” reaffirmed Alexia.

“ You are all I need right now. Just please go get the kit.” You said with a more stern tone. She did as she was told and she came back in time with Jenni.

“ I don't like this amor, let's call a professional.” insisted Alexia.

“ My answer is still no. If we do, we can kiss this relationship goodbye. They will not allow me to see you again. And I can't do that. I don't want to do that. I need you my love please. “

“ Maybe that's not such a bad idea. You got shot coming to see us, now you are re-injured after we had sex. This is not possible, we will never last. You are the damn heir to the Spanish throne.” Said Jenni.

“ I am gonna presume this is coming from a place of worry for me and not something else.” You respond in denial.

“ No amor, I Believe Jenni is right.” Added Alexia.

“ I can't believe you are giving up on us. After everything we have been through, I believed in our love against all odds. I love you god damn it and i am not letting anything stand against us.” Tears start to uncontrollably fall from your eyes.

“ Amor calm down please, let's take care of this wound first.” Said Alexia after taking your face in her hands. She then helps you lay down and she and Jenni take care of your wound by cleaning and redressing it to the best of their capabilities. Tears still stream on your cheeks partly because of the pain and your lover's words. Jenni sees this and goes to your side, runs her hands through your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

After Alexia was done, they helped you get dressed. All you wanted to do was kiss them again like it was the last time you will see them. The kisses were passionate and soft, but you couldn't stop your tears from going to the surface.

“ I can't live without you. Fuck royalty, I can step down from royal duties, live in Barcelona with both of you. I don't want to be queen. I want to be your partner l, I want to live with you and support you. To hell with the royal family. You are my family.” You manage to say through your tears.

Jenni and Alexia exchange some looks you couldn't understand. What you were offering was huge. You would leave your family, your world and everything you have ever known.

The three of you stayed there with all options now open. Your relationship could stay like it is, you could break up, or you could leave the royal family for them.

[krirebr]

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done. 

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort. 

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could. 

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something. 

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged. 

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam. 

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite. 

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs. 

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?” 

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.” 

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.” 

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.” 

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him. 

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet. 

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking. 

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown. 

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused. 

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back. 

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.” 

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess. 

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly. 

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.” 

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island. 

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back. 

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held. 

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. 

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room. 

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?” 

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing. 

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it. 

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.” 

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it. 

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here. 

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own. 

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. 

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore.  You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do. 

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room. 

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom. 

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided. 

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

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[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 28 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You finally have a wedding dress and a hopeful plan for the future. But when Molly caves and tells you what's been bothering her, you desperately wish she would take your advice.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Work was insanely busy, and the month of August really started to get away from you. It was getting precariously close to September, and you really needed to buy a wedding dress. There wouldn't even be time to get anything altered at this point, and you winced as you thought about what that might mean.

Your weekends and evenings had been consumed with activities. Bradley's baseball games, visits to the park, rainy days scouring the flea market for baseball cards. Honestly, you couldn't remember ever being happier, and you made sure you told Bradley that all the time. 

"We don't need to have an actual wedding," you whispered when you couldn't stop yawning, curled up in bed with Bradley. "We can just visit the justice of the peace."

He pushed you onto your back and smothered your entire face in kisses. "No way, Kitten. I'm not doing what Danny did. Besides, I want to have a wedding."

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he kissed your paw print charm. "I guess I better buy a dress then."

"I don't care if you get married in this," he rasped, tugging on the old shirt you were wearing. "But we're having the wedding."

You rolled your eyes hard. "Since I'm absolutely not wearing this, I guess I'll keep my plans to go dress shopping with Molly in the morning."

"You do that, Kitten. And I'll take Ev and Bob out for breakfast at that place you hate that everyone else likes."

"The place with the sticky floor?" you asked, grimacing.

"I'm pretty sure it's just sticky from maple syrup."

"Keep telling yourself that, Coach. That place is gross."

He snorted and rolled back onto his side with you. "Let's get some sleep. I'm fucking beat. I love you."

You were asleep within minutes. And then as things usually went on the weekends, Everett was in your room, waking both of you up, complaining he was hungry first thing in the morning.

Bradley groaned and pulled him up into bed. "If you go back to sleep for another hour, I'll take you out for chocolate chip waffles, okay?"

"Yay! I love that place!" Everett cheered before quieting down and snuggling into the pillows next to Bradley. You kissed his forehead and then Bradley's and then slipped out of bed to take a shower. They could do their own thing for breakfast, but you and Molly would be having a mimosa lunch after you bought some dresses. And nobody was going to tell you no.

You ended up leaving for the dress boutique the same time Bradley and Ev left for breakfast, but when you got to the shop, Molly wasn't there yet. "Typical," you muttered, texting her to let her know you'd meet her inside. 

After fifteen minutes, you felt completely overwhelmed. There were so many options, and you just wanted something simple. All of the fabric was starting to feel the same under your fingertips, and nothing looked quite right. Honestly, Molly was so much better at this stuff than you were. Maybe she forgot about the plan? You started to panic without her here. Perhaps you could see if Nat was free. 

Just as you turned, ready to dash back out to your car, Molly walked in. "There you are," you sighed in relief, but then you gasped. "What's wrong? You look terrible."

"Nothing," she muttered. But her skin looked dull, and she was wearing an outfit you would have never imagined she'd leave the house in. Was she wearing one of Bob's undershirts? She was barely meeting your eyes now. "Did you pick one out yet?" Even her voice sounded lifeless. She was usually so expressive.

"No," you said carefully. "I was waiting for you. I can't do this kind of thing without your help."

"Okay," she replied as she started to grab a few dresses off the racks and handed them to you. 

You took them all in your arms and said, "Molly, just tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," she snapped. "Try those on. I'll be in one of the chairs."

Unsure about what to do, you just did as you were told. But something was wrong, and you thought about texting Bradley or Bob from inside the dressing room. But you didn't want to upset her further. So you pulled on the first dress she had given you, and you were shocked. It was beautiful, it fit you well, and it wasn't too fancy for the wedding location.  

"Molly, you're a genius," you said as you opened the door. 

She just nodded at you from her seat with a small smile. "You look very pretty. Try on another one."

"Okay," you told her, watching as she rubbed her hands over her face. She looked like she was about to cry. You quickly changed into a second dress which was also pretty great, and you walked out a second time to find that she actually was crying now. 

"Molly, please," you begged, bending down to try to wipe her tears away, but she just shook her head and quickly stood up, avoiding your reach. "Talk to me." You followed her across the store, down a row of dresses, and you could hear her sobbing as she rushed away from you.

Once she reached the back corner, she had nowhere else to go. When she turned to face you, she looked like she was in agony. Tears were dripping down her face and she shook her head. "I fucked up," she sobbed miserably. "I fucked up so bad."

"Molly," you gasped, reaching for her. This time she tripped forward into your arms, and you held her against the fabric of the wedding dress you were wearing. "It's okay to talk to me about it." You rubbed her back as thought after horrible thought popped up in your mind. Was it something to do with Bob? With work? You'd never, ever seen her this upset before. 

But now she couldn't even talk. She was just crying and shaking in your arms. You kissed the top of her head and held her, glaring at anyone who tried to come back this far in the aisle until they turned back. And eventually, she pulled away from you a few inches, and she let you wipe some of her tears away.

You didn't push her to say anything. You knew better than that. You just held her face in your hands and waited.

She took a deep, ragged breath and let it out slowly. Her voice was a soft, trembling whisper as she said, "I'm pregnant."

Your lips parted wordlessly before you closed them again. She was obviously very upset about this fact, so you weren't sure what to say. But you eventually settled on, "What did Bob say when you told him? He's upset?" You couldn't actually imagine Bob being upset with Molly about anything, but you supposed it was possible.

She shook her head in a jerky motion. She sounded so small as she said, "I haven't told him."

"Molly," you sighed, pulling her in for another tight hug. "How long have you known?"

"About a week," she gasped, pressing her tear streaked face to your neck. She'd kept this inside for a week. You were honestly shocked. "I suspected it for a little while at least. I didn't think it was actually possible at first." She was hiccupping between words. "I just thought my cycle was off. But then I took a test the other day. And then I took a lot more tests."

There were so many questions you wanted to ask. How far along was she? When was she going to tell Bob? "Molly, were you using birth control?"

"Of course!" she keened. "I'm not stupid! I work in healthcare!"

"I know, I know," you soothed, rubbing her back. "I was just checking." After you got pregnant with Everett, you'd made her promise to be safe.

"But I switched from one pill to a different one," she whispered. "I did everything I was supposed to fucking do! How could I have let this happen?"

"Shh," you whispered. She was sobbing again. "Does Bob not want to have kids with you?"

She pulled away from you and threw her hands up in the air. "How the hell am I supposed to even know that?!" she asked, loud and sarcastic. "I've only known him for like four months! We have never, not even once, never talked about having kids together! I know he likes them. He loves Ev and Piper, but that's different."

You nodded, reaching for her hands and stroking her knuckles with your thumbs. "Molly, you have to tell him."

"No," she said vehemently. "No way. I'm so mad at myself. I don't want him to look at me differently now. I told him I was on birth control. I promised him there was nothing to worry about." Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks, almost like they were never going to stop. "I can't tell him. But he knows something's wrong. He thinks I'm going to leave him, and honestly, maybe I should."

"Don't say that," you whispered. "Don't say that about Bob."

"Exactly!" she said, pointing at you in anger. "That's exactly it! You don't even worry about me anymore, because I'm with Bob! I finally got my shit together. I'm finally dating a good guy. A stable one who actually loves me! He loves me! Or he did. I can't believe I fucked this up. It was perfect!"

She sank to the floor at your feet and cried, burying her face in what you were now certain was Bob's undershirt. You tried to sit down next to her, but you had to fold the dress a little awkwardly. And then a sales clerk came over. 

"Excuse me, but you can't just crawl around the floor in one of our dresses. And you shouldn't be crying near them either."

You took a deep breath to reply, but Molly was already saying, "Fuck off, lady. Your goddamn dress will be just fine, okay?" 

As the woman bustled away, looking completely scandalized, you turned back to your sister. Her gaze looked steely now as she licked her lips. Her voice was calmer as she said, "I'm not going to tell him. I'm going to pretend to go away for a couple days, get an abortion, and then never mention any of this again."

"Molly." You were shaking your head. "You can't. That's not fair to Bob. You need to tell him about this."

"So I can end up like you?" she said, and her words struck you mute. "No, I know, and I'm sorry, but there's not always going to be a Bradley waiting at the end of the tunnel, okay? You got lucky. Everett is the perfect kid. And somehow you upgraded from Danny to something much better. But I'll never get this lucky again. I'll never, ever find something better than Bob. And I don't even know if I can be a mom. Because I've seen you do it, and it's actually fucking impossible, okay?" She was crying and laying on the floor, inhaling the scent of the undershirt. "It's either leave Bob or get an abortion and never tell him. And I know I can't bring myself to leave him."

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

Bradley was sopping up a plate full of syrup with a pancake when Bob finally caved. "Molly's seems unhappy."

"What makes you say that?" Bradley asked cautiously, glancing at Everett playing a game on his phone. He thought back to that night at the Hard Deck a few weeks ago when everyone had been in a great mood. Molly and Bob had sex in the bathroom. He'd heard Molly tell Bob she loved him. 

"She's been acting strange for the past few weeks. I can't get her to talk to me." Bob's face looked helpless as he said, "I just want to make her happy, but I don't think I actually know how. She's gotta be planning to move out."

"No," Bradley said. Truly, this didn't make sense to him. "It has to be something else? Work?"

Bob just shrugged. "I wish I knew." He looked like he was in pain as he reached for his wallet, but Bradley handed his credit card to the waiter.

"It's my turn," he insisted. "I think you should head home and talk to Molly now. I bet they're done shopping and getting margaritas or whatever they're doing."

"Mimosas," Bob whispered. "Molly likes mimosas."

"Right," Bradley agreed. "Let's just skip the batting cages, and you can get home and talk to her since I'm sure they must be done with mimosas."

Bob just nodded and barely managed to say goodbye as he walked back to his truck.

"What's wrong with Uncle Bob?" Everett asked on the way home. Bradley winced.

"Not sure, kiddo. But I bet he'll sort it out soon."

Bradley was actually a little surprised that you were home when he and Everett got there. "Did you pick a dress?" he asked, wrapping you up in a hug. 

"Yeah," you mumbled, frowning up at him, and Bradley wondered if this had to do with Molly.

He kissed your forehead and said, "Hey, Ev. Remember our plans for the Phillies room upstairs?"

"Yeah!" 

"Why don't you get the measuring tape out of the closet and start measuring the room. I'll be up in a minute."

Bradley watched him dash up the stairs with a smile on his face, and then he turned back to you. "What's wrong with Molly?"

You pressed your lips together and whispered, "She's pregnant."

"Oh," he grunted. "Bob seems to be under the impression that she's going to leave him."

"I mean..." you said with a shrug. 

"She wouldn't leave him. He's perfect for her. Oh fuck... she didn't tell him yet!"

You shook your head and looked like you were going to cry. "She's so upset, Bradley. It was unplanned. She thinks she destroyed her relationship, and she doesn't intend to tell him at all."

"She has to," he said, shaking his head. "They'll be fine. Bob loves kids." He paused before asking, "Were they using birth control? Yours seems pretty sturdy, maybe she should have been on that one."

"Bradley," you said, rolling your eyes as he rubbed your tummy. "I told her to tell Bob, but I don't know that she will."

"Fuck," he whispered. "What do we do?"

"Just wait," you responded softly. "She said she'd never get as lucky as me. She said she'd never find someone else as good as Bob later. She said she doesn't think she can be a mom. And I think I fucked that up for her, because she saw me do it all by myself for so long." Now you were crying, and Everett was shouting for him. "Just go up with Ev. I'll be on the deck."

You pushed him away and went to sit outside while you cried, and Bradley didn't know what else to do, so he just went upstairs. 

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

You ended up buying the wedding dress that you were wearing when you sat on the floor of the bridal shop. The sales team was so obnoxious, and you were honestly afraid Molly was going to scream at them, so you just bought it and left. Good thing you liked it, because it was yours now. You were looking in the mirror in your bedroom, trying to zip it up when Molly called.

"You okay?" you asked when you answered the phone. 

"Yeah," she replied. It had been a few days since the dress shopping fiasco, and you'd been checking on her constantly. She hadn't told you much. You weren't even sure if she'd had a conversation with Bob. Frankly, you weren't sure about the status of her pregnancy.

"You wanna come over?" you asked her. "I have ice cream hidden in the freezer."

She laughed. "You always have ice cream hidden in the freezer. But I can't. Bob and I are going out for dinner, and I have to work at six tomorrow morning."

A dinner date with her boyfriend? That sounded promising. You kept your voice upbeat. "Where are you going for dinner?"

"I wanted sushi, of course, but we're going out for Italian instead."

"And Bob's okay?" you asked. You kind of missed the days of tee ball practices and games when you'd see him more often. Of course you could just call him, but you wanted to hear it from Molly.

Her response was soft, and she still didn't quite sound like her usual self, but it was a far cry better than seeing her on the floor in the bridal shop. "Yeah. I actually just wanted to ask you if it's okay if I wear a plain navy blue dress for your wedding. I can text you a picture of it."

Your heart started beating faster. Your wedding was close, and your sister seemed at least marginally interested in it. "Molly, you can wear anything you want. You don't need to send me a picture."

But the message already came through. It was a cute, form fitting dress with little cap sleeves. "It's perfect! Get it! You'll look adorable."

"It's just that it's stretchy, and I'm already feeling bloated, so I want to get something that I know will be okay."

Your eyes went wide as you looked in the mirror. "That's great, Molly. You'll look perfect no matter what. And Bob can wear anything."

She chuckled. "I think he's planning on matching Bradley and Ev, but I'm not supposed to tell you that."

You felt a little better as you ended the call. 

"Kitten?" Bradley shouted as he walked up the stairs. 

"Shit," you muttered, trying to unzip your dress. "Don't come in here!" you yelled.

"What's wrong?" he asked as you practically slammed the bedroom door in his face. 

"I'm wearing my wedding dress!" You tried to jiggle the zipper, but it wasn't budging. You took a deep breath and held it, holding it in, but that didn't help either. "The zipper is stuck!"

"Open the door. I'll keep my eyes closed."

You let him in, and he stumbled toward you until you took his hand and placed it on the zipper at the side of your dress. He eased it down slowly and without issue, never even cracking an eye open. "This is not how I imagined you taking this dress off of me," you whispered before kissing his cheek.

He smiled softly, but he said, "Once I'm able to look at you, we need to talk."

"About what?" you asked slowly, realizing he looked a little frustrated in spite of his closed eyes. "The Phillies room? I said you two can do whatever you want in there."

You could actually hear Everett sorting through Bradley's tubs of baseball cards right now. "No, not about the Phillies room. Meet me downstairs."

Then he was gone, and your dress was hanging awkwardly off your body. You changed and headed downstairs to find Bradley sitting on the couch with his legs splayed wide and his hands on his thighs. 

"What's up?" you asked him, slowly making your way through the living room. His face was nearly expressionless, but you could still tell he was upset. 

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "Is Danny giving you a hard time?"

You just shrugged. "What makes you ask that?"

"I saw that huge packet of information from your lawyer on the kitchen counter. You need to talk to me about this." His voice was harsh, like you'd never heard it before. "Be honest with me, Kitten. If we're getting married, if Ev is going to be my stepson," he said, gesturing upstairs with his hand, "then you need to let me know what's going on here!"

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "He's not... giving me a hard time. Well, I guess he kind of is." You sighed and sank down onto the couch. "He's been served with papers. He has a few months to comply, so I just know he's going to take as much time as he can before paying me a cent of child support. And the worst part is, I'll have to wait until Ev is a legal adult before I can have his birth certificate amended." 

Bradley looked pensive, scratching the corner of his mustache with narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, Kitten. I wish there was something more I can do. You already asked your lawyer if there's anything I can do after we get married?"

You didn't want to keep the truth from him any longer, but you just simply said, "I'll let you know, Coach. We'll figure it out." Really, you weren't sure if you would better benefit from having Danny out of your lives completely or getting child support from him. 

When Bradley tugged on your arm and stretched out on the couch, you started to smile. "Come here," he whispered, gently pulling you on top of him. "You know you don't deserve all the runaround, right?" He kissed you and wrapped his hands around around your waist, letting his palms rest on your lower back. "And Ev doesn't deserve anything Danny does."

"I know," you replied, pushing your hands up through his hair. "But we're making out pretty well these days. Got ourselves an upgrade." Your lips met his neck in a soft kiss that had him tightening his grip on you. 

He glanced toward the stairs. "Kitten," he whispered, his tone a warning that made you feel warm all over. When he met your eyes he was shaking his head. "I wanna take you to bed, but I need to get to practice."

"Mmm," you hummed, letting your eyes drift closed as he kissed you. "Later then. When you're all sweaty and hot."

"You're killing me," he grunted, standing with you in his arms, pressed against his body. He kissed your forehead and said, "I'll go see what Ev is up to before I head to practice. Bob told me he's skipping it tonight. Not sure what that's all about."

"He's taking Molly out to dinner."

"That's.... good?" he said, but it sounded more like a question.

"I hope so," you whispered. It felt strange to know that your sister wasn't going to be coming to you immediately with all of her problems now. Because it sounded like a decision had been made. You just hoped that Bob could handle her and all of her glorious personality. 

"I'll check on Ev and then get going. I told him he can organize my baseball cards however he wants. But between you and me, I hid most of the really valuable ones under our bed."

"Good call," you told him with a laugh. 

Once he had gone to practice, you went upstairs to work on the boys' Phillies room with your son. While you had nixed painting the entire room red for fear of it looking like a bloody crime scene, you did let them hang up some baseball decals. Everett had apparently hung up some more Phillies posters without help, because they were very crooked, but the room was actually coming together. 

"Mom! Look!" he said, holding up a red and white pennant that said BRADLEY and looked like it was from the '80s. "Can you help me hang this up? I don't think Dad even knew it was in here with his baseball cards!"

Your breath caught like it always did when he called Bradley his dad, and it took you a minute to pull yourself together. "Yeah," you replied with a nod. "I'll help you. Let's put it up next to the door."

"And maybe I can make one with both our names out of poster board. I'm getting pretty good at making signs and stuff."

"You really are, Ev," you told him as he taped the pennant into place. 

"Do you think we can all dress as baseball players for Halloween this year? Are you getting married before or after Halloween? I keep forgetting. Do you think Aunt Molly would dress as the Phanatic? I think she'd probably be better at it than you. No offense. But we could go trick or treating with them, because then there would be more people to help hold all the candy I get. Dad will dress as a baseball player and hold my candy if I ask him to. I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, Ev," you said, hugging him as tears filled your eyes. "We can do whatever you want, okay?"

He let you hug him for a few seconds before he wiggled his way free and asked, "Why are you crying? You haven't been crying as much."

It was because you didn't want to have to think about Danny. You didn't want him to try to pull some stunt in a few years or withhold child support and make you chase him down. He was the type who would make you waste a bunch of time and money just because he could. He would make your life miserable now because he always blamed you for ruining his life with Everett. 

"I'm sorry," you gasped. "I'm sorry I'm crying." You pulled him in closer again. You knew. You were sure. You would better benefit from having Danny out of your lives completely. And Bradley was the easiest way to get this weight off your chest, because whenever you thought about Danny, it made your body ache. You wanted to be able to stop thinking about him. About the way he had hurt Everett. About the way the law had been designed in such a way that guaranteed he'd be able to continue to hurt Everett in the future.

"Did I make you sad?" Everett asked softly. "We can be magicians or pirates for Halloween instead if you want."

"Oh my god, Ev," you gasped. "No, you didn't make me sad. I love you." You knelt down on the floor in front of him and kissed his cheeks. "I was just thinking about your biological dad, Danny."

Everett's expression turned to one of fear as he said, "I don't want to see him."

"You won't," you promised, pushing his hair back and kissing his forehead. All the child support in the world wouldn't matter. You didn't need it. Your son was absolutely terrified of Danny, and some money wasn't going to make up for that.

Everett seemed to accept your answer as he nodded, but he still looked concerned. "We don't even need him now."

"We never did," you agreed with a small smile. You had overheard Bradley tell Bob back in June that he would like to adopt Everett. Maybe you should just go ahead and ask him to. Maybe you should just tell him the truth: he could help remove Danny from your lives one hundred percent. "Ev, do you know what it would mean if Bradley adopted you?"

He nodded, his brow creased in slight confusion. "I think so."

"Let's talk about it, so we know it makes sense. And you can tell me if it sounds like something you might want. And then we can talk to Bradley about it. But it'll be our little secret for now."

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

I hope Molly and Bob have come to a decision they are both comfortable with. More of that will be posted in The Curveball. Next up for Coach and Kitten....the wedding! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 29

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Ed hadn't meant to wake Stede up.

Their bedroom was starting to look like an actual bedroom, lately, filling up with knick-knacks and trinkets and all sorts of odds and ends, and in the early-morning light the walls were pink. Ed's body hadn't gotten used to it, not yet, still woke him up at the crack of dawn most days. So he'd turned on his side, looking at Stede, still fast asleep, drooling on the pillow, a bit, and -

Fuck, but he was beautiful.

Ed reached out, feather-light, to cup Stede's cheek, brush a thumb over wrinkles and skin. Stede snuffled, pressing his cheek into Ed's palm.

"Mrrm," Stede grumbled, then, a questioning little noise.

"Nothing," Ed whispered. "Go back to sleep."

Stede brought one sleepy hand up to hold Ed's hand against his face, shifted it to kiss his palm. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Ed said, and then, because he'd never really been the best at bottling it up, "do you think we'll get to have this? For long enough, I mean?"

"Ed," Stede sighed sleepily, "can we reschedule this emotional crisis for no earlier than six in the morning?"

"Sorry," Ed mumbled, starting to feel a bit guilty -

Stede's eyes opened properly, because he might've been a bit of a bitch but he could read Ed damn well, and his fingers laced with Ed's. "Don't be sorry. I'll wake up at the - the fucking asscrack of dawn if you need me to."

Ed snorted, eyes shifting to land on the pink wall. "I just - it's, uh...d'you think maybe this is too good? That we won't get to keep it? That one morning we'll wake up and it'll be just like this but then something will happen and it'll be gone? Maybe we'll get hurt, or the English will find us, or..."

"Oh, Ed." Stede eased up onto his elbows, holding his arms open. "C'mere, sweet man."

Ed tucked himself into Stede's arms with a grateful sigh, pillowing his head on his chest.

"I wish I knew," Stede said. "I wish I could promise you forever. I wish I could promise you all the time in the world. But -"

"You can't."

"I can't," Stede finished. "But...sweet pea, I don't know about you, but I love our life too much to spend every day worrying about when it's going to end. We can make up emergency plans, if you like. We have options. The next thing we work on can be the escape hatch we were talking about it. But we don't have to fix everything all at once. We're together. Right now, we're safe, and together, and in love. That's gotta count for something, right?"

Ed let his breath out in a long sigh, tucking his face into the side of Stede's neck. "I love you."

"I know." Stede tapped the tip of Ed's nose with his finger. "I love you."

"Yeah." Ed smiled against Stede's skin. "I know."

Then Stede was muttering something about how they'd be better able to scheme up contingency plans and emergency plans and precautionary measures if they were both well-rested, and Ed got the hint.

It would always be weird. Ed didn't know if he'd ever stop scanning the horizon, if he'd ever feel fully like the fragile peace they had was something that could last, that they could keep. But Stede was right - he loved his life too much to waste it on worrying about when it was going to be over.

So Ed listened as Stede's breathening evened out, and he clenched his fingers in Stede's nightshirt and buried his nose in his hair and breathed in, breathed out, as he settled in for the rest of their forever.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au future

a/n: i had this idea and needed to write it. it's a bit into the future, much past where i currently am, so feel free to skip. i'm still posting the next part later this evening, but i just needed to get this out of my head and figured i'd share lol

*gif courtesy of google*

words: 1.6k // warnings: solana is sad, roman is pissed, and their families ain't shit

taglist: @fearlesschimera @sayyestoheav3nn @annfg8 @cyberdejos2 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @trentybenty @empressdede @tshepisho @southerngirl41 @callmekayd

Solana should have listened to Roman. 

Should have known better than to ever think this was a good idea.

To think that they could have both of their families in the same vicinity and everything would go fine. Granted, the type of division she was expecting has been relatively tame. There hasn’t been any violence, largely due and thanks to the weapon deposit bins by the entrance.

Weapon free establishment and all. 

Yet, she’s not naive enough to think that the lack of guns, knives, and other unmentionables could stop her or Roman’s family from throwing down if they wanted. But, they haven’t. No punches have been thrown nor bones broken. It’s been more of a clear separation. Roman’s family only interacts with each other, and her family interacts with each other.

Not the kind of cohesion she was hoping for but a much better alternative than what it could be.

But, while conflict and violence between the in-laws has, so far, been avoided. There’s still another major issue that has Solana locked in one of the back rooms, sitting on a random chair, crying her eyes out.

The bullying. 

Towards her. 

Towards Roman.

Towards their baby.

It started out light, Solana having to politely shut down a near fight between her brother and Roman.

Wes lifted the beer to his lips, eyeing Roman. “So, how many people have you killed today, Reigns?”

“Wesley!” Solana’s sharp use of his name was conjoined with a disapproving expression. He’s too old for the petty jabs.

Roman, however, simply smiled coldly, scratching his beard as he delivered a chilling warning. “So far none, but you keep fucking talking, and I can change that real fast.”

Thankfully, Solana was able to de-escalate, her sister-in-law, Hazel, prying Wes away before any violence could commence. 

Then there was the conversation Solana unintentionally walked into while conversing with two of her older cousins she’s not as close with.

For good reasons.

“Aren’t you at all worried?”

Solana frowned. “About?”

Her cousin leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Roman as a dad. I mean, he’s not capable of love. Do you really expect him to be a good father?”

There’s no words to describe how much hearing such a thing about the man she loves hurt Solana. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her other cousin, however, simply rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, everyone knows that man is a sociopath. You’re better off cutting your losses now, taking the kid to Mexico with your mom’s side of the family, and praying he doesn’t turn out like his psycho dad.”

Solana had to excuse herself for that one. She had nothing nice to say in that moment, but beyond that, she just needed to get a few tears out.

And she did, hoping that would be the last of it, but no, that was just too good of a hope to be true. 

It was the comments overheard by some of Roman’s relatives, however, that did her in.

“I just can’t believe out of all the women, the respectable options who come from more established families, he chose her.”

The other woman snorted, shaking her head. “Right? It’s obvious she was looking for a sugar daddy. What is she, like 25?”

“I heard her father’s not doing well financially and told her to seek out Roman.”

“Makes sense. Look how easy she was. Didn’t waste any time opening up her legs and trapping him with a baby.” The woman rolled her eyes, adding, “at the very least, he could have found a Samoan woman. It’s bad enough he’s afakasi, but this child of theirs? The girl is Mexican and Black. He’ll hardly have any Samoan blood running through his veins. Our Bloodline could die out because of her.”

The first woman to speak snorted, smirking almost as she suggested, “that’s assuming it’s his baby. Roman’s smart though. I’m sure he’ll have a paternity test done as soon as she pushes out that bastard.”

“Assuming ICE doesn’t deport her first.”

The two women fell out in laughter at the same time Solana darted off, desperate to get away and have a safe space to cry. 

It’s all just been too much. Too much hatred spewed for something that should be filled with love and excitement. 

It’s been anything but, and it hurts. 

It hurts a ton. 

The knocking on the door is loud and borderline erratic, Solana quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat to inform that she’ll be out in a minute. But, a deep, familiar voice beats her to it.

“Solana.” It’s Roman, and he doesn’t sound happy. “Open the door.”

She blows out a deep breath and does her best to feign a ‘normal’ voice. “Just—just a second.”

“Now, Solana.” Before she can ask why, he adds in a calmer voice,“I know you’re crying.” Damn. 

“So you either let me in or I’ll break this goddamn door down.”

He’ll do it. She knows he will. There’s nothing ever stopping Roman from comforting or being there for her when he knows she’s upset. 

And this would definitely be one of those times. 

Solana sniffles, trying to gather herself as she carefully stands up from the toilet seat. Wiping at her eyes, she flips the lock and is barely able to turn the knob when Roman is opening the door. Stepping back, he closes it behind him and moves his hands to her face, gaze locking with hers.

“What’s wrong?”

So many things, but this isn’t the time or place, so she shakes her head. “N–nothing. I’m just—baby hormones.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, voice still surprisingly gentle. “Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

Solana looks away, hating how just that question, coming from him, tone so understanding and soft almost, is enough to pull the truth out of her.

And it does.

“You were right. This was a bad idea. I should have never—” She stops herself, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just wanted…..I thought….I thought they’d be happy for us.”

“Sol, you know it’s not that simple.” Though his words could be seen as insensitive, the way he says it is anything but. “Who said what?”

She closes her eyes, grasping onto his white button-up shirt. “It wasn’t just…..one person….it’s everybody.” He wipes at her tears, as she continues to feel the emotional weight of it all. “My family saying cruel things about you—”

“Sola—”

“Your family saying things about me, about our baby—”

At that, all gentleness drops and is replaced with something else. Something she knows Roman knows well. 

Anger.

“Who?” It’s one word. One single word that means a multitude of things and none of them good.

Solana shifts her weight, shrugging, “I—I don’t know who they are. Some….some cousins of yours. But, it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does fucking matter.” Roman drops his hands from her face to instead take her right hand in his, holding it firmly. “And we gonna address this shit right now.”

Solana's eyes widen a bit. That’s….that’s not what she wanted. “Wait, Roman—”

He’s not listening though. His stride is purposeful and determined, as he leads them out the bathroom, down the hall, and into the main section of the venue where most of their families are gathered. 

Roman guides them over to where the DJ has his setup, Solana gasping as Roman uses his free hand to yank a set of chords out the wall, effectively stopping the music. 

The DJ looks just as confused as most of the guests but cowers away in fear when Roman ‘iffs’ at him, like he’s going to hit him, before snatching the microphone. 

The abrupt ending of the music has attracted most gazes to where Roman and Solana stand, him moving them to the middle where all can see and hear.

He never once releases her hand. 

“Imma say this one time, and one time only.” She swallows, her eyes landing on her parents. Her mom looks confused, while her dad wears the same expression he’s worn since the moment Solana finally came clean about her relationship with Roman.

Disappointed. 

“Cause if I have to address this shit again, it’s not gonna be verbally.” Chills move up and down her spine. There’s not an ounce of her that questions if he’s bluffing or not. Roman doesn’t bluff. If he says it, he means it. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me. That includes her family and mine, but I’ll be damned if I let any of ya’ll disrespect her or our child.” Solana’s hand naturally moves to her belly, her bump that’s pronounced and especially visible in her white bodycon dress. “We’re together. We’re having a baby. However way any of you feel about it, keep it to your fucking selves, because there’s no reason Solana should be crying at something that’s supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She swallows, noticing how the entire room has gone silent under the deep voice of Roman’s address. There’s not a person who looks uninterested or annoyed. It’s just a sea of various scared and nervous expressions. 

“So, the next time you find yourselves talking shit about her, and especially our baby, understand it will absolutely be the last thing you ever fucking do.” Solana watches Roman begin to hand the microphone to the flabbergasted DJ before he snatches it back, turning once again toward the onlookers. “And one more thing……when you address her, make sure you do it properly.”

Solana’s throat goes dry.  She shakes her head. He can’t be doing what she thinks he’s about to do. “Roman—”

“It’s not Solana Miller.” Oh my God. “It’s Solana Reigns.”

The sea of silence quickly morphs into an ocean of various gasps, exclamations, and even shouts. 

Meanwhile, Roman simply smirks as he sticks the nail in the coffin before dropping the mic on the ground. “—we’re married.”

[qqueenofhades]

it's concerning what people are saying and thinking is activism. I've unfollowed someone who unironically reblogged something that said death to israel. how is that going to help? if anything that's just making a more hostile environment. support palestine but maybe cool it about what you say about israel considering why it exists in the first place

There are a few reasons for this, and the first is that the western left is so absolutely goddamn terrible about recognizing its increased and violent radicalization. I can't tell you how many posts I've seen to the effect of "the far right wants to kill everybody but the far left just wants healthcare for everyone uwu." First, by their own extremely warped and constantly biased perception, that would actually make the mainstream Democratic Party "far left." The party might disagree about how exactly the actual mechanism for better/more equitable healthcare should be implemented (etc. etc. if you oppose instant Medicare for All with no other transition period or hybrid options, YOU ARE EXACTLY THE SAME AS A FASCIST!), but that's now a central and uncontroversial plank of official Democratic party policy. But since as we know, BOTH SIDES ARE THE SAME!!!, clearly that can't be what the self-defined "far left" actually wants. Witness how we've had several days of intense and valedictory social media approval and worship of a mentally ill person's violent and public suicide, because it was done for the "right reasons." This person should have been given help and support, yes, and we never know what's going on in anyone's head. But if I was someone also contemplating suicide, this whole "it's the right thing to do and you should just burn yourself to death and announce it's for the Right Cause and you will have legions of adoring admirers" would be hella hard to resist. This is going to directly cost more lives.

We point out all the time that the far right has become a fascistic death cult of authoritarian personality, but the online far left is now absolutely just as willing to make "you should die and/or kill yourself and others for Ideology" a central part of their platform. We've had endless rhetoric about how the violent Glorious Revolution is the only answer and society is irretrievably broken. This is casual, constant, inescapable radicalization, and it's presented as the only way to "do" leftism. So of course the rhetoric gets increasingly insane and genocidal (while insisting that all they want is to "stop the genocide"), and it's more and more normalized. We've had people reblogging posts that are almost entirely lies, because they "want to highlight" one sentence or half-truth they agree with (and apparently decided the best way to do this was to uncritically amplify the misinformation, rather than making their own post and trying to push back on it). We've had people admitting they're afraid to lose friends or be attacked on social media because the Groupthink is so pervasive and violently radicalized. This is not normal and this needs to fucking stop.

Secondly, and this is inescapable especially in regard to this particular conflict, the western left is absolutely steeped in antisemitism through and through, and it has no desire either to examine that or even think it should. It has become absolutely mired in the "antisemitism is a Good and Necessary and Correct belief to have and it's not actually a prejudice, it contributes to social justice because all Israelis and/or all Jews are evil settler colonialists constantly genociding innocent Hamas and/or Palestinians." This is why, as I keep saying, it's not that hard to support Palestinian self-determination, statehood, dignity, freedom, and a stop to the indiscriminate slaughter of Gaza, while not actually thinking that the way to do this is just to be wildly antisemitic at all times and calling for the genocide of Israel to be substituted for the genocide of Gaza. That does not actually reduce the net amount of genocide in this world!!! I thought you wanted to stop it, not turn it loose on another group of people who "deserve it more!" JESUS CHRIST!!!

On that note, even if you don't agree with every single premise or point it makes, a lot of people on this website (and on Twitter, but yeah, uh, good luck with that) need to read the following article in order to understand, as I keep saying, how deeply virulent antisemitism has become an unquestioned tenet of virtuous faith among the western left. Content warnings for some very graphic depictions/discussions of violence, including sexual violence, but that's not an excuse. If you've found yourself posting or agreeing with any version of the "Jews/Zionists/Israelis are all collectively responsible for this while evilly torturing innocent non-Jews" thesis statement, READ IT. Y'know, read it anyway. Try to get the first and most basic grip on the fraught and violent history of antisemitism, which is quite literally the oldest prejudice in the world, and how that interacts with and negatively informs the way in which supposedly well-intentioned western leftists are reacting to the current situation. As I said in an earlier post, I don't care if your "good intentions" (the road to hell is paved with, etc. etc.) are solely about stopping the current slaughter directed against Palestinians. That does not excuse you from the consequences of the lies you spread and the genocidal violence that you advocate as a "better" or "more correct" kind of genocidal violence then that already taking place. So. Yeah.

If you run into a paywall, you can remove it by disabling JavaScript on the page (this can be done with most ad-blockers), or someone has also helpfully provided the full text as a pdf in this link. Read it.

[nanamincreampie]

Academic Rival Higuruma ( part 2)

Higuruma Hiromi x Black plus size reader

( part 1) ( part 3)

Warnings: male masterbation, enemies to lovers, one-bed trope, nipple sucking, pussy eating, fingering, missionary

When Higuruma got home that evening, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind. The way your body had brushed against his in that classroom, how confident and smug you were, it was driving him crazy. His fists clenched as he stood in his living room, still replaying the teasing words you whispered in his ear. He wanted to stay composed, to maintain his calm, intellectual exterior, but something about you was undoing all of that.

With a frustrated groan, he headed straight to the bathroom, ripping his tie off as he went. He needed to cool down, to clear his head, so he turned on the shower, letting the cold water run for a moment before stepping in. The icy chill hit his skin, but even that wasn’t enough to erase the vivid image of you, your body so close, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

As he leaned against the shower wall, the tension in his body only built. His thoughts shifted, darker now, imagining you beneath him, finally submitting to him, begging him with that same confident voice reduced to needy moans. His hand slid down his chest, slick with water, as he closed his eyes, unable to stop the fantasy from taking over.

In his mind, you were at his mercy. “You think you’re better than me?” he muttered under his breath, his hand gripping himself as he imagined your face, flushed with desire. He imagined your lips parting, pleading for him, your voice broken. “Say it,” he hissed, stroking himself slowly, imagining the feel of you beneath him, your curves pressed against him, the way your body would move.

“Please, Higuruma… more,” he could almost hear you whisper, your breathless voice echoing in his mind. His pace quickened as he pictured it, your dark skin glistening under him, the softness of your thighs wrapped around his waist as you begged him for more. He could feel the pressure building, his body trembling with the need to let go, but he held on, letting the fantasy consume him.

The cold shower did nothing to stop the heat building inside him. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward into his hand as he imagined taking control, imagined the way you’d look, broken beneath him, begging for release. His release came fast, with a sharp intake of breath, the cold water and the heat of his thoughts blending in an overwhelming rush.

His chest heaved as he leaned against the shower wall, water still pelting down on him, the fantasy leaving him breathless and unsatisfied in ways he couldn’t describe. You were more than a rival now. You were an obsession.

Weeks later, the two of you found yourselves traveling with the debate team to a competition in another state. When you both arrived at the hotel, the tension that had built between you over the weeks still lingered, unspoken and heavy. But when you both got to the front desk, you were told the news that made your heart sink, there was only one room left for you both to share.

“What do you mean there’s only one room?” you argued with the front desk, while Higuruma stood beside you, just as frustrated.

“I’m sorry, but there are no more separate rooms available,” the receptionist said, her tone apologetic but firm. You both glared at her, trying to find another way, but it was hopeless.

The two of you stormed up to the room, still fuming. When you opened the door, your worst fear was confirmed, there was only one bed.

“We can’t share that,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“I know,” Higuruma snapped, but after another round of back-and-forth complaints, it became clear that there was no other option.

Later that night, after dinner downstairs with the rest of the team, you both prepared for bed in silence. Tension filled the air as you changed into your sleep clothes, Higuruma doing the same on the opposite side of the room. When you climbed into bed, you laid out strict boundaries.

“Stay on your side of the bed,” you warned, “no touching.”

“Trust me, I’m not trying to get close to you,” he shot back, his voice rough with frustration. The two of you laid down, backs turned to one another, the space between you feeling like a chasm of unresolved tension.

But when you woke up the next morning, the reality was much different. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized Higuruma’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed firmly against your back, and your legs tangled together under the covers. His grip tightened slightly as you stirred, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

“What the hell are you doing?” you snapped, pulling away from him, but as soon as you both sat up, the heated argument died in your throats. You hadn’t realized how close your faces were, your lips mere inches apart.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and you could feel the tension shift between you, something darker, more intense filling the space. You didn’t say anything, and neither did he, but the pull between you was undeniable.

Before either of you could think twice, you closed the distance, your lips crashing together in a heated kiss, all the pent-up frustration and rivalry spilling over. The kiss was rough, desperate, filled with weeks of unspoken desire. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you let out a soft moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours.

In a blur, clothes were discarded, and the next thing you knew, you were both on the bed, his lips pressing hot kisses along your neck, your back arching in response. “Higuruma,” you moaned, your fingers tugging at his hair as he moved lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he kissed his way down.

When you reached for the waistband of his pants, your hands trembled with need, but he didn’t give you a chance to think as he nipped at your collarbone, sending a wave of pleasure through you. “You talk so much,” he growled against your skin, “but right now, I just want to hear you moan.”

You gasped as his hands slid down, tugging your pants off with a swift motion. His lips found your chest, kissing and sucking your breasts with a hunger that left you breathless, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand massaged the other. You couldn’t stop the moans that escaped your lips, your body arching into him, desperate for more.

“You like that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. “You like when I suck on these pretty tits?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you tugged at his pants, needing him closer, needing more.

He didn’t waste time. As soon as his pants were off, he was on you again, his mouth moving lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach until he reached your thighs. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them open as his breath hit the sensitive skin there.

When his tongue slid between your folds, you nearly screamed. “Fuck, Higuruma!” you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer as he licked and sucked your clit, his fingers joining the mix, sliding inside you with ease.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes that had you seeing stars. His fingers moved in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl, while his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving marks that would surely bruise.

You could barely breathe, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. “Higuruma, please… I need you,” you begged, your voice breaking as you tugged at him, desperate for him to fill you.

He smirked, pulling himself up to hover over you, his lips brushing against yours. “You need me, huh?” he teased, his breath hot against your lips. “Tell me how much.”

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered, your hips lifting off the bed, desperate for the friction. “Please… fuck me.”

Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully buried in your heat. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you, the sensation overwhelming but perfect.

“God… you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he began to move, slow at first, savoring the feeling of you around him.

Higuruma’s hips rolled slowly at first, the drag of him inside you sending shockwaves through your body. His breath was ragged as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting at your skin between moans. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled restraint as he tried not to lose himself too quickly.

"F-Fuck, you feel so good…" His voice was thick with lust, each word vibrating against your throat as his pace quickened. He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in, harder this time, making you cry out in pleasure.

You arched beneath him, the friction building with every deep stroke, your moans growing louder with each thrust. "H-Higuruma… faster, please," you begged, your nails raking down his back, desperate for more.

He groaned at your request, lifting his head to look at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "You want more?" he muttered, his voice teasing yet demanding. Without waiting for an answer, he shifted, gripping your hips tighter as he began to pound into you, his thrusts harder and faster now, sending your mind spiraling.

"Ah fuck!" you gasped, your body rocking with the force of his movements, the pleasure too intense for words. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you completely, his hips slamming into yours with a desperation that matched your own.

His lips found your neck again, sucking hard on the delicate skin, leaving dark bruises in his wake as he claimed you with every thrust. "You like that, don’t you?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "You like it when I fuck you like this…"

You couldn’t even form words, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you, winding tighter with every deep, punishing stroke. All you could do was moan, nodding frantically, your nails clawing at his back, leaving marks in your wake.

“God, you’re perfect…” Higuruma muttered, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed your ear. He was close ,too close. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his movements were growing sloppier, more frantic. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he drove into you faster.

Your body jerked, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of pleasure. "I-I’m gonna—" you stammered, but the words died on your lips as your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping.

Your walls clenched around him, and Higuruma groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, chasing his own release. With one final, hard thrust, he came, his body shaking as he spilled inside you, his moans rough and broken against your neck.

The room was filled with the soft hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your heavy breathing as you both lay there, tangled in the sheets, bodies still buzzing from the intensity of what just happened. Higuruma's arm was draped lazily over your waist, his hand resting against the curve of your hip as you both tried to catch your breath.

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of everything that had just transpired hanging in the air. You stared at the ceiling, your mind still spinning, trying to process how your academic rivalry had escalated to this. Higuruma shifted beside you, propping himself up on his elbow, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

Neither of you spoke at first, the tension from earlier replaced by something different now, something raw and unspoken. His hand slid down your waist, brushing over your thigh, and you shivered at the touch, the reality of what you’d just done still lingering between you.

"You okay?" His voice was surprisingly soft, almost concerned, though his expression remained unreadable.

"Yeah," you breathed, rolling onto your side to face him. You studied his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite find the words. The air between you felt fragile now, like the wrong word could shatter everything.

Higuruma let out a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair before he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture caught you off guard, making your heart flutter in a way that left you confused.

But just as the moment settled into something quieter, more intimate, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling both of you. You reached for it, swiping it off the table as you saw a message from one of your teammates.

"Shit," you muttered, your eyes widening as you sat up abruptly, the sheets slipping down your body. "We’re late for practice."

Higuruma blinked, his expression shifting from soft to stunned as reality set in. "Wait… what time is it?"

You grabbed your phone, seeing the notification reminder glaring back at you. "Practice started twenty minutes ago," you groaned, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, quickly gathering the scattered pieces of your clothes.

Higuruma cursed under his breath, sitting up as well, his movements hurried now as he grabbed his own clothes from the floor. “They’re going to kill us,” he muttered, tugging on his pants and buttoning up his shirt in record time.

As you both scrambled to get dressed, the tension that had dissipated came rushing back, but this time, it was a mix of panic and unspoken confusion about what had just happened between you. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled on your shirt, your cheeks still flushed from everything that had happened.

“We can’t be late again,” you sighed, giving him a sideways glance as you slipped on your shoes.

Higuruma stood by the door, fully dressed now, though his hair was still tousled from your earlier encounter. He met your gaze, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes a mix of amusement and the lingering heat from what you’d shared.

“Guess we’ll have to act like nothing happened,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You snorted, grabbing your bag. “As if that’s going to be easy.”

With one last glance between you, both of you headed out the door, the weight of what had happened still clinging to the air. You both knew it wouldn’t be easy to pretend nothing had changed, but for now, you had to focus on practice and the growing tension that would no doubt make things even more complicated.

[adventuringblind]

White Clover

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Childhood crushes are normal. Max has been racing for a while now, he's a world champion, it's only natural they would look up to him. It wasn't supposed to go this far...

Warnings: Hanahaki disease, authors limited knowledge of flower language, sickness, Oscar and Reader literally deteriorating, blood,

Notes: One of my favorite tropes! I hope le requester likes it! Hoping to get some loscar comfort out soon!

Side Note: Reader drives for Aston Martin in place of Lance

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It really doesn't make sense in her head. Every time she tries to rationalize it, the answers come up even more ridiculous then the last.

It's always been her and Oscar, Chasing their dream together. It was meant to be, it had to be destiny with the way the two of them fit together so naturally.

Then Max Verstappen happened. A supposed childhood crush. Then a hero they looked up to. Then a rival in their sport. It was supposed to end with that.

Her and Oscar and their weird fascination with Max Verstappen.

Then there was a shift. Suddenly Max was acknowledging their existence. He was talking to them, giving them pointers, including them in the usual playful Max like banter. Their mutually discussed respect for Max turned into a full blown crush.

Not a small crush either. The kind that has them both fumbling around him.

Lando is no help either. He picks up on it immediately. Teases them about it relentlessly.

They are sitting in Oscar's driver room when it happens. The first of many coughing fits as Lando is trying to cheer them up. Because Max is with Kelly; It would never work. They don't even know if he would be into it.

She starts it. Hacking up a storm and Lando and Oscar trying to get her to take water. Oscar starts up a minute later.

The cough up white clovers. Small ones, but a handful.

Lando looks at them sympathetically. All three to in shock to say anything.

"There is no way this is real, right?"

~~~~~~

It is, in fact, very real. The tiny white clovers continue for about a month. Frequently enough that when their helmets come off, they tumble onto the ground.

Being around max makes it better. The ache in their chests lessens enough to breath deeply again.

Then it switched on them. Gone were the little white clovers. Now there were bigger pink camellias. A longing for Max that they didn't know they had.

They lay in bed for most of the winter break. The toll this stupid disease is having doesn't feel fair.

Both of them stare at their breakfast. Neither wanting to eat knowing it'll be a waste.

"We're not going to be able to hold out for much longer..." She trails. Both of them know what's going to happen sooner or later, but losing the memories they do have feels worse.

Oscar sighs, having weighed the options on numerous occasions. "Lets give it until Australia. My mum knows a doctor who'd be willing to do it privately and make sure it doesn't get out."

"Will she make us food while we recover too?"

"I highly doubt she'll let us move until we're cleared."

~~~~~~

Pre-season testing - for lack of a better phrase - fucking sucks. They've moved onto red roses. The thorny kind that catches in their throats. She didn't realize it until she was coughing in the car again and it burned more then normal.

She hustles her car into the pits and stumbles her way through the garage until she can't keep herself up anymore.

The stem that comes up with the full rose is speckled with thorns that catch on things as she pulls it out.

She's so lost in trying to get it out, that she didn't notice who had come in. A hand rubs her back and moves any loose hairs away from her face.

The drops of blood mixed with bile causes the panic to finally set in. Her body gives out, but her teammate is there to get her sitting upright.

"Do I want to know who it is?"

"Just need Osc, please."

Fernando leaves to track down Oscar and ends up coming back with both McLaren drivers in tow. The Aussie doesn't look like he's fairing any better then herself. Paler than usual and still coughing.

"If Max doesn't get his act together then I'm going to run him off at turn one." Lando, their self designated caretaker, sets about getting her cleaned up since Oscar look seconds away from passing out.

"He doesn't have to, not like Max would want us anyway-"

"Oscar Jack Piastri, I swear if I have to listen to anymore of your self-loathing I will tell Max myself." Since when did Lando become a mom? "Plus, he does. He won't shut-up about you two. Daniel is losing his shit and begging him to just end it with Kelly if he adores you two so much!"

Fernando ends up driving them back to the hotel.

~~~~~

Being in Australia with Oscar has always been something to look forward to. This time feel more like dread and guilt.

Telling their teams had been the easiest part. The off week after Australia will be for recovery. It almost made her cry with how supporting they were.

They just have to get through the weekend now... and hopefully avoid Max in the process. The harder part of this whole thing. Specifically when he won't leave them alone.

It's during the drivers parade that everything goes downhill. They are standing in Max's vicinity, Landing becoming a wall between them and Fernando keeping him occupied. It's helping ease the weight in their chests and burning in their throats.

Max, inevitably, makes his way over to them and starts up conversation. Only it doesn't make the pain better this time. The second he starts up conversation she feels the rose blooming in her lungs.

"How have you two been?" Max is awkwardly stammering his way through pleasantries with Oscar while she chokes back her coughs. She throws Lando a pleading look, trying to get him to understand what's happening.

"Doing pretty well, you?" She can hear the strain in Oscar's voice, but he's holding it together. Unlike her, apparently.

She stays silent the rest of the parade. Unable to tune into the rest of the conversation.

Her physio is there waiting for her when she gets back to the garage. The amount of blood she loses is concerning. The bundle of roses makes her want to scream.

Something isn't right. Her body is screaming at her not to move. The flowers refusing to stop.

She doesn't know how Oscar manages to finish the race. He looks miserable when he meets her at the car. Lando has an arm slung around his shoulders to keep him upright.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to Max first?"

"What would we even say, Lan? That he's the reason we're dying?" Oscar slides into the back with her. Nicole sits in the drivers seat and Chris on the passenger side. They get sympathetic looks from both of them.

"I mean he broke up with Kelly-"

"Lando, we appreciate what you're doing but it's to late for this. We are knocking on deaths door and we'll still have each other. We'll be okay." She tries her best to comfort the worries Brit.

"Promise."

"Pinky."

The car ride is painfully silent. Not like either of them can talk anyway. It's just her and Oscar wrapped around each other as much as they can be.

They enter the hospital with fingers intertwined. They sit together in a private room waiting for the pre-op to start. A hard decision but one they know had to be made.

"Is it bad, that I don't want to forget?" She peers up at Oscar through watery eyes.

He sighs, the heavy kind followed by another cough. "No, I don't want to either."

She feels like falling asleep in Oscar's arms. Pretending that this isn't what's happening. That she's not growing flower bushes in her body. That she'll remember Max when she wakes up in a few hours.

"At least we get the next week off."

"Nando said he's going to drop some kind of care package off later." She laughs, remembering how he'd fussed over them with homemade remedies. "And Mark, I thought he was going to lose it when you handed him a rose."

"The look on his face was priceless!"

They can do this. They have each other and that's all they need.

Then the door bursts open.

"Max?"

~~~~~~

It's not like he thought he would ever find himself in this situation. Smitten with two of the younger drivers and driving himself insane by not confronting his own feelings.

He tried his best to just be friendly and leave it at that. He invited them to do things with the other drivers, struck up conversation, did his best to give them tips for their driving when he had the opportunity.

But the two of them have Max wrapped around their fingers. Both are smart and intuitive. They think he's funny. Max also thinks they are funny and compliment each other well.

This cannot be a normal kind of attraction... Right? No, it's not. It's the whole reason he had to split with Kelly because he knew this went much deeper then he wanted to admit.

The last minute driver change took him off guard. Then he saw Oscar on the grid talking to Lance. The Aussie looking miserable and on the brink of falling over.

He jogs up to Lando, concern lacing his facial expression. "What's going on? Why the last minute driver change?"

"She's sick." Lando doesn't look at him, anxiously fiddling with his fingers while getting ready. "She's been sick so they had a contingency just in case."

"And Oscar?"

"... Also sick."

Obviously Lando isn't telling the whole truth. If the lack of details is anything to go by. "Are you going to tell me with what?"

And Lando is a terrible liar. Max has known him long enough to read his expressions. "The flu?" Max raises his eyebrows in suspicion. "Okay but if i tell you then you can't say anything because it's really bad."

Max gives him a confirming nod. Not like he wants to spread gossip about the two.

"It's hanahaki, but they should be better soon. Surgery is after the race today. She's our due to blood loss and Oscar is nearing that point but determined to race."

Max gapes. What is his reaction supposed to be? "Do they not love each other?"

Lando rolls his eyes. "Max - there is a third that they are both in love with."

"Who is it because I swear-" Maybe anger wasn't the right emotion to have given Lando's annoyed huff.

"It's you! You're just so oblivious that you didn't notice. You were with Kelly so long and they didn't want to make things weird for you that they didn't say anything."

Max gets two steps towards Oscar before he's being shoved into the car. Forced to race despite being able to fix the problems of two people. He’ll just find them afterward.

He, unfortunately, does not escape the people wanting to speak to him. By the time he ends up at the McLaren garage, Lando looks miserable sitting on a counter and swinging his legs. “You just missed them.”

Max deflates to the floor. It looks obnoxiously dramatic and leaves Lando to huff at the scene. “Relax, you can catch them at the hospital if you’re quick enough.”

Lando ends up driving because he’s in no state to do it himself. The anxiety he’d been fighting off is hitting full force now. Enough to make his entire body shake.

He dives out of the car. Disregarding the fact that the sleeves of his race suit are hanging off his waist and nearly collides with the ground because of it.

Oscar’s parents are in the waiting room. They look at him with the most aghast looks he has ever seen. “What are you doing here?” The death glare Nicole is giving him strikes fear into his heart.

“I need to know where they are, please.”

“Now you want to see them?”

Chris puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They are getting prepped for surgery at the moment. You might be too late.” He gives Max a sympathetic smile.

“Please-“ desperation is evident in his voice. “-please, I love them back. I have to try!”

He gets the room number and continues his sprint to the pair. The weight of possibilities comes crashing down on him, that they might not remember him if he is too late.

Times he went to them when he didn’t want to be alone.

When he sought them out at the bars and clubs when Lando subsequently ditched them.

Dragging them around Monaco when they were there for the Grand Prix.

Max should’ve made himself think about it. How he spent hours with them when he didn’t have to.

He doesn’t bother knocking on the door when he gets there. He slams the door open wide and almost sobs in relief when he sees them still waiting.

While her face is buried in Oscars shoulder, the Aussie is staring right at him. “Max?”

He takes a tentative step forward but stops when they both start violently coughing. “Sorry - I’ll stay over here.”

“What ever are you doing here?” The rasp is her voice makes him flinch. It’s scratchy, like her throat has been torn to pieces.

“I just - Lando told me what’s been going owns I know it’s not fair that I’ve made you suffer for so long.” He wants to get closer, hold them, provide them comfort. “It took me too long to get my shit together but, I love you both.”

Oscar tentatively tries to get up, the female not able to move without falling over and the Aussie in no position to carry her. Max lunges forward to catch him when he stumbles and down to the floor they go.

Max attempts to get him back up, but isn’t fast enough when the female slides down to join them. They end up falling asleep against him, breathing evenly.

They stir when the doctor announces himself, but don’t move from their spots. Max assumes that they are exhausted from coughing up literal flowers.

“This was not what I expected to find.” There is an amused tone in the doctor’s voice. “I take it you were the one?”

“Yeah, that would be me.”

“Well, we’ll keep them for observation and make sure any lingering thorns don’t do anymore damage. Would you be alright saying near them?”

Max nods hastily, eager to do whatever is necessary.

The hardest part is actually getting them to let go of him. The second he retracts contact is the moment they start panicking and coughing again. It’s a stressful few hours until it dies down again.

Nicole and Chris look ecstatic to see the three of them together. They’ve informed her parents about the change in plans and are also happy to know they’ve had a good outcome.

The residual flower petals come in waves, but they are dying down in intensity. The painkillers they are on make them wake up with dopey smiles on their faces.

“Hey Max?” She whispers. The three of them laying in the hospital bed together despite it being cramped and having a second one.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks…” The drowsiness in her voice evident.

“For what?”

Oscar is somewhere between asleep and maybe consciouses. “For noticing us.”