#like feel free to correct me on this or tell me to shut up

[cutegardenfury]

Thinking about outsider art and how beautiful and amazing and important it is, and yet a lot of the interest in it is not necessarily in the lives, stories, and messages of the primarily mentally ill/disabled people that make it, but rather the fact they're "crazy" and "insane" and "holy shit those artists must have been on drugs or something!" like holy shit can you be any more fucking stigmatizing towards mentally ill/disabled artists whose conditions heavily influence their work

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[moechies]

nanami who has you impaled deep on his cock, hands restraining your tiny, quivery wrists.

you’ve been a bad girl.

fussing over the smallest inconsistencies throughout your day spent with your dearest fiance — having taken a day off to spend with his darling girl. but you’re a brat — there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, it’s kento’s responsibility to put you back in your place, turn you back into the pliant, nice, and smart woman he knows you to be.

so when you begin to act indifferent than your usual self, slamming cabinets with a mean force and glaring off at your fiancé at his feeble attempts to comfort and confront you, he knows you’re feeling off.

and he knows it’s not your fault — you’re big on emotions but hefty weak when it comes to communication. so, he’ll just have to force it out of you.

so that’s how he forced you here — mindlessly bouncing atop his cock with your arms confined and pressed roughly against the concave of your back. your consistency is mindless, allowing your little pussy and those weak thighs of yours to think for you as your mushed little head spits out scenarios in order to calm your fiancé.

“do it correctly. i know you can.” the man grumbles, sitting himself up against the soft pillows with a rough readjusting to your sore wrists. they ache — having being pressed against eachother for nearly an hour, and your fiancé having no intention to release them any time soon.

you writhe in his grip, crying out his name with a soft whine as a peace offer for mercy, any mercy.

“correct your posture and straighten your thighs. like i taught you many times before. don’t tell me you forgot, darling.” he eyes you condescendingly, sighing with a disappointed demeanor that has you whimpering.

“y—yhes.. yes sir!” and you do just as he says, straightening your back and stretching out your legs. it takes you a weak couple of grinds before you manage to find a suiting pace — although slow but kento deems it acceptable.

“well done. now,” kento grunts, “tell me what’s gotten you so fussy today. will you?”

you huff, shaking your head softly with an adorable pout, increasing the speed of your pace in hopes to lose the man in his thoughts with your hips.

“now now,” kento warns, his free hand, the right one coming up to squeeze at your cheeks, his calloused thumb jabbing into your right dimple, the rest of his hand laying tight against your left. “we’re not about to play the guessing game.”

you squeak in pain, eyes closing shut which forces the previously bubbling tears to spill over your lash line.

“speak up, darling, or you won’t be cumming anytime soon. i can promise you that.” he growls — which is his last and final warning, an assertion of dominance you’ve only seen once long before.

“i—i—“

nanami removes his grip from your face, a contradicting thumb that comes to wipe at your tears so sweetly you might just cry again.

“wa—wan’ you to put a baby in m—me already,” you hiccup, “wan’a have your kids, k—ken.” finally, you crack.

nanami cums.

you squeak inevitably, not expecting the sudden fill in your womb, thick ropes of spent painting your walls white and filling your tummy. “o—oh shhh—shit.” nanami whines, cursing himself when he feels it leak against his tummy. your hips slow, meaning to stop, “no.. don’t stop. keeping going, l—love. until you can’t, for me.”

you nod shakily, hiccuping softly when you hear the man chuckle, leaning back against the headboard with a weary stare. “that’s it, doll? you’ve been so fussy, so mean all day just because you wanted me to breed this little w—womb? aw.” nanami coos, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed. you’re quick to pout again at his teasing, but your ploy is quickly shocked to failure when he presses harshly against the chub of your tummy — directly atop your womb.

“darling, you must communicate. how would i have known you’d ask of s—something so simple?”nanami stutters when you drop onto his lap, situating yourself tiredly onto him. “i just— ‘s-s embarrassing.” you whimper in response, lifting your head to receive a gentle kiss from the man.

kento’s quick to flip you over, quick enough that you don’t even notice your hot body against the cool sheets with your fiancés cock still impaled deep into you. “no worries now, it’s all done.” nanami grins, “now all i’ve got left to do is make my woman feel good, isn’t that right?”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Respect

Feyd-Rautha x female!reader

Summary: Your betrothed is a son from one of the Great Houses, an awful man who has enjoyed threatening and scaring you since you were children. Feyd makes it known he doesn't appreciate such disrespectful treatment of the woman he loves.

Notes/Warnings: SA (mention of past unwanted touching. Not by Feyd). Violence and blood. Implied or mentioned sexual situations. Feyd is soft for reader and reader only. Typos, im sure. I think that's it. Feel free to correct me.

Words: 1900

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You told him stories of the youngest son of House Kenric. As you lay in Feyd’s arms, you recounted your meetings with your betrothed over the years. The ways he teased you as children, pinching your skin, tugging on your hair, spitting in your face, calling you worthless, stupid, pathetic. Then in the years before coming of age, how he would mock you alongside his brothers. How he would smack you if you defended yourself and force you to tell your father you’d fallen. How he would grope you over your dress when neither your parents nor his were paying attention. But you’d kept one story from him; the most recent of them.

Feyd had met you at a party for a handful of influential Great Houses, and it wasn’t long before he found himself rather attached to you. Over the course of six hours, you’d met, talked, flirted, snuck off, kissed, fell into bed, fucked, and returned to the party with no one the wiser. It was that same night you were able to convince your father of a budding interest in Harkonnen ways, and that if the Houses were aiming for peace and unity, there would be no harm in you spending a few months on Giedi Prime.

At the time, Feyd knew the “Harkonnen ways” you so appreciated didn’t extend far past the attachment the two of you shared and his ability to make you see stars when his cock was inside of you, but it eventually developed into more. Much more. Though never said aloud, he loved you. So much so that when you finally informed him of your betrothed’s treatment of you the week preceding the party—his cornering you, touching you, telling you of his intent to control and use you as he pleases once you become his wife—Feyd struggled to swallow his rage. 

“I’m scared, honestly,” you told him, your hand sliding up from his abdomen over his chest to the curve where his neck met his shoulder, gently squeezing the toned muscle. “How do I become the wife of a man like that? And what about producing his heir? I’ll have no choice but to let him have me.”

It made Feyd sick to think of another man so close to you. Another man’s hands on you, his lips marring your body, tongue between your folds, sweat staining your skin. Even screwing his eyes shut couldn’t make those images disappear. They only grew stronger, tormenting him. She’s not yours, a little voice whispered. Not your woman, not the mother of your child, not your wife. 

But, fuck, you should be. You should be all of those things. You would make a perfect Baroness; the only one Feyd could imagine himself wanting. You would face hardship with a sturdy backbone and not shy away from what Giedi Prime would request of you. You would be respected as the ruler by his side, as you deserve. Respected most of all by the man who loves you.

“Would you rather marry me?” Feyd asked, lazily running his fingers up and down your bare spine. He felt a sudden uneasiness, like nerves wiggling throughout his limbs. Such an unfamiliar sensation. Unwelcome, but not misplaced he supposed.

“Yes,” you replied to his relief. “But we both know that’s not how this works, Feyd. It’s just not that simple.”

You were right. It wasn’t simple. Your father made an arrangement with House Kenric, but there was no chance Feyd was going to let that old Duke take you from him in two weeks and ship you off to marry an abusive, unworthy pest of a man. If your father wouldn’t permit simplicity for the sake of your happiness, then Feyd would just have to make it simple. 

—

“Why is it again that I’m not allowed to see?” you ask as Feyd guides you down a dark corridor with his fingers covering your eyes.

“I told you it’s a surprise,” he teases. “Don’t you like my presents?” 

You chuckle. “Of course, I like your presents.”

“Then that’s all you need to know,” he tells you. “We are here, anyway.”

Coming to a stop, Feyd removes his hands from your eyes and places them on your shoulders, kneading out the tension that has only worsened in your body as your wedding day grows nearer. You blink once, twice, still curious as to what sort of present could possibly be this far from your rooms, but when your vision adjusts to the onslaught of bright light illuminating the small cell, you gasp at the sight before you. 

“What do you think?” Feyd asks, pressing a kiss to your neck as you take in the badly beaten body of Aldo Kenric—your future husband.

He’s secured to a chair, his arms strapped down to the chairs arms and legs strapped to legs. His head hangs low. His shirt is torn down the front, exposing the deep purple bruises that litter his torso. Blood drips from his nose and split lips to stain white fabric and forge red rivers through the hills of his abdomen muscles. If not for the pink flush to his skin, you would think him long dead.

The hand that raises to your mouth partially conceals your shock, but the rest of your face gives the emotion away. Your eyelids don’t seem to be able to blink anymore, and your brows will not lower from their position high up on your forehead. You don’t know how to swallow what you see.

With a sigh, Feyd says, “Wait a moment. He’s not very lively.” Then he steps around you toward your betrothed, lifts the man's head by his cropped blond hair, and hits him across the face with a smack that echoes throughout the cell. Scarlet droplets splatter across Feyd’s forearm like flung paint from a brush.

Aldo jolts awake, body convulsing in a sharp jerk. His eyes blow wide as saucers as he snaps his head in all directions and struggles against his binds. The gag in his mouth muffles his whimpers of panic. 

“H-How?” you stutter, glancing at Feyd. “When did you—”

“I had some of my men snatch him last night,” Feyd informs you. ‘While we were busy fucking’, he leaves out. “I was told it was done without difficulty. Didn’t put up a decent fight of any sort.” 

He grabs Aldo’s jaw, fingers pressing into the hollows of his cheeks, and forces his head so he has no choice but to look directly into Feyd’s eyes. “We had a long talk about respecting our women, didn’t we, Kenric?”

Tears stream down the man’s face, cutting through dried blood and dripping onto Feyd’s hand. Aldo tries to yank his head free from the tight grasp to look at you. You think he’s repeating your name behind the stuffing in his mouth, but you can’t be sure.

“What are you going to do with him?” you ask.

“What would you like me to do with him?”

“I can decide?”

He laughs. “Of course. I wouldn’t give you a gift and not let you choose what to do with it.”

You almost flinch in shock. You’re not known for choosing things for yourself. Until you met Feyd, ‘choice’ was a word associated with negativity and obligatory sacrifice. He is the one thing you’ve ever chosen. Your clothes, your hair, your studies, your husband—all selected for you. But Feyd…you met him and fell and didn’t want to get back up. 

Maybe now, you don’t have to.

“You’d kill him?” you ask.

Aldo screams behind his gag, more salty wet lines running down his face. His squirming shifts the chair back and forth and forward and back. Unevenly distributed weight nearly causes him to fall on his side, but Feyd sets him upright before he can crack his head on the stone floor. 

Reaching around his back, Feyd pulls out a small knife and in one sharp motion sinks it into Aldo’s thigh with a sickening yet satisfying thick thud. “Stay put,” he growls, then he turns to you with a smile. “Yes, I would kill him, if that would make you happy.”

Water pools in the corner of your eyes. Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Feyd rushes to you and cups your cheeks in warm palms. 

“Do not cry,” he demands as his thumbs brush over your cheekbones. “You know I hate it.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, sucking in a few deep breaths between your sniffles. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

His face softens. “I’d do everything for you,” he swears before drawing you in for a kiss; slow and sensual and sweet in front of the broken man who currently has a claim on your hand. You lose yourself to mouths moving in perfect sync until he pulls back. 

“So, do you have a preference?” he asks, giving you one final peck. “Slit throat now, or arena in the morning?”

Your head tilts in contemplation as you observe the distressed, wailing man who has happily hurt and terrified you. By nature, you are not a violent woman, not in the way your man is a violent man, and you were raised to believe that it is improper and rude and disrespectful to wish pain upon someone else—downright cruel or whatever—but there’s a sense of freedom now. Clearer mind, lighter heart, straighter spine, weakened conscience.

You raise a brow. “If I choose the arena, will you make a show of it?”

Feyd hums in agreement.

“And, um…” you pause.

“You can have anything you want,” Feyd says at your hesitation.

You nod, your confidence renewing with his encouragement. Yes, he’s right, you can have anything. With Feyd, it’s anything, and it’s conditionless. 

As you slowly drag your hand down his chest, you peer up at him through your lashes. “Will you go in without a shirt? I’d like to see you come out covered in red.”

Feyd smirks then steps out of your arms and crouches in front of your soon-to-be-former betrothed. “Did you hear her?” he asks Aldo as he flicks the hilt of the blade sticking out of his flesh. Aldo whimpers, pressing his legs together. “Covered, she says. And I will give her what she wants because I love her and this is how I respect her.”

Leaning down, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Let’s go to our room. I want to thank you…properly,” you whisper, softly kissing just under his ear before sucking his earlobe into your mouth. Feyd groans.

“And then I will properly thank you for thanking me, my love,” he says with a grin that falls into a frown when he turns back to Aldo. “See, Kenric? Respect.” Feyd slaps the top of Aldo’s leg for emphasis as he stands. “You can keep the knife for now. Can't have you bleeding out. We have an important day ahead of us and I don’t want it to be too easy.”

“Come on,” you snicker, pulling him by the hand as you walk backward out of the cell. 

Feyd spins and grabs you at the waist to lift you into his arms. You giggle as your legs lock around his hips.

“Will you agree to marry me now?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him, your lips ghosting over his. “You saved me.”

--

tags (let me know if you want to be on the list): @avidreader73

[sinofwriting]

Horny Teenagers - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,189 Summary: If Max and her were only allowed to say one thing that people described them as, it would be horny teenagers. They disagree with that entirely, after all what’s wrong with having a healthy sex life? Note(s): Suggestive Themes, Slightly NSFW

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Max, how do you feel about the most recent interview your team principal did?”

Max raises an eyebrow, not understanding the question from Olav.

“He described you and your girlfriend as horny teenagers.”

“I mean, I don’t see how we are. I think of it as us having a healthy sex life.” The words slip off his tongue before he can stop them and he can see Y/N just a few feet away cover her mouth at the Dutch words and he worries for a second but then sees her shoulders shaking with laughter.

—

“Red Bull is going to kill us.” She pants, her hand fisting the hair at the back of Max’s skull, his lips sucking a bruise into her neck.

“Like they’ve been threatening for two years?” He smirks, squeezing at her leg that’s wrapped around his waist and really he’s lucky she wore this dress, such easy access to everything he wants.

Her laugh turns into a moan as he grinds his hips into hers, eyes slipping shut.

“I just won my fourth championship. I think they can forgive this.”

Her free hand pulls at the waistband of his pants, fingers grazing over his bulge that’s pushing at his zipper. “You say that like we ever need an excuse to fuck in a club.”

“No, but it certainly helps.”

She hums, eyes opening and she can spot more than a few phones pointed at them and it’s really lucky that Max is so broad. They more than take risks, but Max would never let anyone see any part of her, always sure to press her face into his neck, hiding everything he can so he can greedily have it all for himself.

“Take me back to the hotel? I can’t congratulate you properly here.”

“Whatever you want, schat. Whatever you want.”

—

“You did amazing.” Her voice is nearly a shout and Max’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the edges and his arms are wrapping around her waist, their lips pressing together.

Her hands immediately go to his face, feeling the flush of his cheeks, the slight sweat dripping from his brow. And she giggles against his lips as one of his hands moves to her ass, grabbing and pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip in revenge, breath hitching at the near growl he gives.

“You're getting it later.” He warns.

“Promise?”

He kisses her again. “As soon as I’m done with media.”

She watches him walk back over to where Charles and Oscar are, both shaking their heads at him, and she can see the resigned looks of most of the Red Bull team.

“Twenty seven and still playing grab ass.”

“Max is twenty-seven.” She corrects, smiling at GP and his amused expression.

“Oh yes, sorry, you're how old again?”

She shakes her head, nudging him slightly as they both watch Max step up to give his interview.

She sighs, continuing to watch him. “Winning looks so good on him.”

“I don’t need to hear that.”

“None of us do.” Rupert murmurs.

“Really starting to think you guys hate when I speak.”

“We do.”

GP nods, “Would really rather you didn’t. Don’t think I need to hear anymore about Max.”

“Your loss.” She sings, blowing Max a kiss as he looks over at her one last time before leaving for the cooldown room.

—

“Actually, before everyone goes, I wanted to let you all know some exciting news before we all see each other next time for preseason testing.”

Everyone in the room shares glances at Max’s words, the driver practically beaming.

“Y/N and I are expecting a baby.”

The room erupts in congratulations. People getting up and swarming the driver and he laughs, accepting the pats on the backs and hugs.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s doing great. No morning sickness or anything, she’s thirteen weeks along, so we finally started telling people.”

“That’s amazing, really, Max. When is her due date?”

“August 17th. A bit fortunate with the new calendar, but babies have their own schedule, the doctor told us.”

“Thirteen weeks, huh?” GP asks.

Max nods and they can see his hand twitching to his wallet and they just know that he’s got an ultrasound or two in there.

“Vegas must have been a really nice celebration.”

Max laughs, a slight pink to his cheeks. “Well, the club was nice, but the hotel was much better.”

Groans escape from everyone in the room at the reminder of all the pictures and videos that had flooded social media from that night, but they all can’t help exchange looks, more than happy for the driver but also finally, finally it would mean a break from the nightmare that was Max and Y/N together and their constant horniness.

—

Rupert looks in horror at Max’s back.

“What happened?”

Max looks over his shoulder at him, bending to get a shirt before sliding it on. “What do you mean?”

“Your back is shredded.”

“You say that like it’s the first time.”

He splutters, running a hand over his face. “No, but Y/N’s pregnant.”

“And?”

“You two are still having sex.”

Max laughs, slapping him on the back. “You do know that doctors actually encourage that right? It’s good, apparently. And what you thought that just because she was pregnant we’d stop? It’d take more than that.”

Rupert watches Max leave in horror.

—

“Max,” At the sound of his name, he looks away from Charles’ phone that displayed a picture of Leo. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations on the news of you and Y/N expecting a baby and was wondering if you could stamp out a rumor of sorts.”

“Thank you and a rumor? We are talking about rumors again? So early in the season.”

A few reporters laugh.

“It is quite early. This has to do with a report that apparently last weekend your hotel room in Bahrain was vandalized. Broken mirror, torn pillows and such.”

Max coughs, trying not to laugh as he sees actual concern on the reporter's face. “No, nothing like that happened. Just, uh, a little overexcited so to speak.”

Charles lets out a laugh that he quickly turns into a cough when feeling his press officer glare at him.

“Mate.” He murmurs.

Max smiles, dropping the microphone back in his lap as Tom changes the subject, asking Jack something. “Well if I said any more I’d get fined.”

“I can imagine.” And Charles’ gaze softens. “I know I’ve said it already but congratulations. You and Y/N will make excellent parents.”

Max’s smile widens. Charles had been the first driver to text him to offer his congratulations, and his repetitiveness of offering them was nice. It was good being so close with Charles after their rocky karting years. “Thank you, Charles. I’m starting to think you want to be in the running for godfather.”

“Oh, absolutely. If not, I better be known as uncle Charles. I’m offering piano, Italian, and karting lessons.”

“Fucker.” Max mumbles at the last one with an amused look and small nod before turning his attention back to Tom.

[pseudowho]

Daylight Robbery

Gojo Satoru likes when other men stare at what they can't have...but maybe he's underestimated Nanami Kento.

Warnings: 18+, cucking, I actually like Gojo so please don't misunderstand me 👀

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When a cuckoo visits a nest, he brings a most precious treasure, places it amongst others like it (but not exactly like it), and leaves.

And this is, of course, the most crucial point; for he does leave, and takes nothing with him.

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"Oi! Nanamin. I've got a favour to ask."

Nanami Kento stood, abruptly, looking at his watch and flapping his newspaper shut-- "My, my. Just look at the time."

"Don't be that way-- Nanamin, come back-- it's about my girl."

Nanami stopped, his hand upon the door handle. Gojo's smirk grew fast, grinning wolfishly, a squirm of possessive pleasure unfurling in his belly and his cock.

"Thought that might stop you...yeah, I've seen you looking. Can't have her though, right? My girl."

Of course, he had looked, at first, Nanami thought, his fingers on the handle. He had looked upon you, in all of your finery-- those glittering smiles, the rubies upon your lips, the marble-carved touches, so deliberately and exquisitely formed. Only after your heart and the life of you, had granted you animation, had Nanami then watched, now art in motion, art with a story.

"You can have her. If you want."

Nanami maintained his composure. Barely. He turned to face Gojo, stern and impassive.

"For one night, and one night only."

Ah. I see. You would like that, wouldn't you.

"And I get to watch. What do you say?"

A dozen questions flew through Nanami's mind, and none of them for Gojo. Nanami's cock twitched now, despite himself, calculating on bated breath.

"Sure. I'd like that. Tonight? Tell her to wear something...comfortable."

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You'd only have said yes to Satoru, for the other guy to be him.

As he stepped into Satoru's bedroom, gracing you with a gentle, reassuring smile, you softened, feeling so exposed and foolish in your lingerie. You glanced over at Satoru, barely lit in the dark, fingers on his temples with one pinched between his teeth, the other hand grazing lightly over his already hardening cock.

Nanami stepped over to you, sat on the bed and looking up at him with the tiniest glint of fear. His hand reached out, strong and soft, and cupped your jaw, brushing a thumb over your lips.

"I thought I said something comfortable," he chided without malice. Your lips parted just-so under his thumb, the briefest flick of your eyes towards Satoru, a half-hearted shrug and an awkward smile. Nanami snorted, derisive.

"I understand you," he purred, leaning down to you, both hands cupping your face as he whispered against your ear, "remember...you're in charge, darling, and I am entirely at your disposal."

"Nanami...I-- I don't know...where to start." Kento hummed, nodding, his thumb moving to stroke your cheek. Despite his outward self-control, your face was directly in front of his groin, and you could see a bulge, huge and heavy, under his tan trousers.

"Kento," he insisted, "please. After all...if I treat you as well as you deserve...it's my name you'll be crying out tonight. Not your boyfriend's."

Satoru shuddered in the chair in the corner, smirking, a hushed clink as he undid his belt, reaching down to hook his long, pale, pink-tipped cock free of its restraints. His hand reached down to cup his balls, rolling and fondling them in his palm, until beads of pre-cum began to dribble onto the neat white hair leading down his belly.

"F-Fiancé," you corrected, captivated as Kento's arms moved to bracket you, nosing at your neck, the shell of your ear, hips nudging you up the bed until you settled, feather-light, on sinking pillows. Kento huffed lightly.

"Yes. My apologies. Your fiancé." You were splayed beneath him, helpless as a kitten. Satoru was tall, and big, but...nothing like this bronze Adonis above you. Broad and mountainous, Kento's shoulders rolled, his breathing getting heavier, whiskey-brown eyes drunk on you. It was just he and you in the room, you were sure. And you felt so...safe.

"Well, then," Kento hummed, one hand reaching under your back to unclasp your bra, deft and dexterous, "I'm going to treat you like it's your very first time. Please, tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't." You urged, swallowing a sigh of relief as your corseting bra unclasped, "Don't stop," and Kento's eyes smiled at you.

"Is that better?" He whispered, kissing your forehead with such tenderness, you could have wept. Kento felt the way you pressed up against him, thrilled, roiling with such righteous rage at your misuse.

If Satoru had not been so captivated by the way Kento trembled with restraint above you, at the way your nipples pebbled as your bra was pulled softly from your body, he would have felt the fine thread of uncertainty that ran through him, as Kento treated you like spun sugar.

Used to dulling himself, Satoru gripped his cock, sighing and cursing as he stroked himself slowly, reaching to the table beside him to grab a bottle of lube, pumping it over his twitching cockhead.

Hearing the little wet sucks of Satoru's hand, masturbating himself with practiced strokes, your head tipped to watch him, teeth gritted and hungry as he watched you graze your hands over Kento's thick, corded biceps.

"Get on with it, Nanami," Satoru sniped, "or do you not know what you're doing with a girl like her? Scared I've ruined her for you?"

You blushed, moving an arm up to cover your face, as Satoru teased you both. Kento shushed you, removing your arm, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist before plaiting his fingers with yours, calm, confident and ungoadable.

"She's a rare gem, it's true," Kento answered, more to you than to Satoru, "and certainly not one that could be ruined by something so...insignificant." You felt a hot appreciative surge in your belly, so overwhelmed by the want in Kento's eyes, by his advocacy of you. His thumb was brushing over your lip again, eyes flicking between your mouth, and looking deeply into the heart of you.

"I'd kiss you," Kento whispered, "but only if you wanted me t--"

All at once, you grabbed Kento by the tie, pressing your lips to his, your first drink after a month of summer, tangling your fingers into his blond hair. Kento grunted against your mouth, pressing his body down onto yours, letting you lead the kiss, but guiding you into unexplored waters. You waded through them, calm, exotic and unfamiliar.

Kento kissed you with all the warmth and precision he had promised. Each time you tried to push the kiss further, he held you warmly back, controlling your desperate haste for your own sake. He pulled away from your mouth, a fine string of spit connecting you, and you seared at his refusal to use you, your breasts untouched, pussy untouched, so virtuous. Kento's mouth sucked at your neck, leaving his mark, subtle and inconspicuous, as he spoke to you.

"Would you like to undress me?" He offered, your hand still clutching his tie. You felt like you'd been given a gift to unwrap.

"Yes," you pleaded, body thrumming with the need for his skin on yours, "god yes, I--I'd love it. I love--...yes. Please."

"Good girl."

Kento continued to lap at your skin, his hands now ghosting over your hips, the soft plush of your belly, the dimpling in your thighs. Your hands shook, never thinking for a second that you could be edged by something as simple as removing Kento's tie, unbuttoning his shirt; simplicity made erotic. By the time you had pushed his shirt off his shoulders, caught on his brown leather harness, your irritatingly stringy underwear felt tight, wet and clingy with your own arousal.

"How wet are you, baby? D'you think he can fuck you as well as me, hmm?" You jumped at Satoru's voice from the corner. Hesitating to answer, unsure if Satoru would like what he heard, you chose silence, whimpering softly as Kento's tongue moved over your breasts, achingly close to your sensitive peaks. Satoru's breathing came ragged, watching another man devour you, just so he could wrench you away after...his hand gripped the base of his cock, twitching and wet, gasping with the effort to not spend himself all over his belly.

Your fingertips ghosted over Kento's harness, thoughtful. Just as Kento was about to graze his lips over your plump nipple, he stopped.

"You like it? My harness?" He chuckled, his hand rising to brush over yours, still fingering the brown leather. You bit your lip, nodding. Kento understood fully; in moments, he had stripped his shirt, replacing the harness only. You almost melted at the sight of him above you, buckling the harness over the front of his pecs, his own nipples being grazed by the tight leather press.

Kento watched you shudder, taking your hand, stroking it over the leather, down his belly towards his belt, feeling the veins of his V-line tracking down to his cock. Your mouth watered, and Kento shivered as your fingers tickled just beneath his belt.

Not breaking eye contact, Kento lowered his mouth back to your breasts, resuming as he pulled your nipple into his mouth, moaning around you at the sweet yielding softness. His tongue traced you so gently-- too gently, for the relief you needed.

"Harder-- please, Ken..." Kento acquiesced, ever your servant, as he drew your nipple deeply, the pleasure tangy and sharp as your nipple grazed the roof of his mouth, his thick fingers kneading and rolling your other breast. Your hips bucked up against nothing, and you whimpered in despair, no longer used to such ceaselessly tender foreplay. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying to push his head down your body, and Kento mumbled, voice husky and rumbling against your spit-wet nipple.

"Where do you want my mouth?" Before you could answer, Satoru interrupted, his voice low and feverish, working at his balls again with one lube-wet hand, flicking at his own nipples beneath his white undershirt.

"Eat her out, Nanamin. I want to see how fast you can make her cum...or, if you even can." Kento smiled at you again, soft, not rising to the taunts, casting an embargo on the forced air of toxic masculine competition.

"Let me know...if it's too much," Kento offered, his mouth kissing down your belly. As he reached your underwear, all silky straps and ties, Kento paused, tongue grazing just above them.

"Do you like these?" He asked, sincere. You bit your lip, mortified at having been read like a book.

"No," you whispered into the back of your hand, too quiet for Satoru to hear, "not really."

Kento hummed. His strong hands gripped your underwear, snapping one side at a time. Satoru groaned at Kento's fractured restraint, his thighs and back prickling with the edge of his orgasm; "Oh fuck, baby...you see how bad he wants you? Shit. Gonna look so beautiful with his cock inside you...get on with it, Nanamin."

Kento knelt above you, removing the scrap of your underwear, tossing it aside to his shirt. He looked down at you in reverence, his fingertips grazing past the puffy lips of your pussy, to dip his fingers into your wetness, lubricating himself with you. As Kento brought two fingers back up to gently pinch your clit, rolling it between them, he sighed, whispering again at your mewls and cries.

"Beautiful...gorgeous. You take as long as you need."

Kento undid his belt, chest straining against his harness, abs and pecs twitching as he fingered you with devastating expertise. He had imagined you like this so many times, mathematic in his fantasies, calculating how he would orchestrate your divine undoing. His free hand undid his belt, lowering himself to his belly as he rucked off his trousers, boxers and socks, his desperately aching cock now sandwiched between his abs and the bedsheets.

When Kento removed his fingers from your clit, you shot up on your elbows to look down at him with a cry of remand. Your breath caught at Kento gazing at your slick on his fingers, dipping them into his mouth, long pink tongue licking them clean and shivering at your taste.

Satoru's head pressed back against the chair, arching into his hand with a breathless laugh; "Doesn't she taste good, Nanamin? Don't worry...I'll finish her off, if you can't get her there." Satoru didn't know how much longer he could keep going, his cockhead a deep, angry pink, balls tight and full from almost spilling into his hand so many times, determined to outlast Kento. The thrill of the chase consumed him in holy fire.

Kento's eyes twinkled at you, unflappable, chuckling at how you bit your lip down at him, embarrassed by him tasting you with such enthusiasm. He chuckled as you covered your eyes again, nuzzling your inner thigh as you giggled, sharing a moment of companionable silliness. Kento broke it swiftly, dragging you out of your wall-breaking moment, by nuzzling his nose between your folds, and you gasped, moaning, high and long.

Kento had built you up with such precision, that by the time the tip of his tongue slid between your folds, flicking from side to side to part them and lay claim to your neglected bud, you came with a jolted cry, one hand clutching the pillow behind your head, the other entwined in his hair, pressing his face down into your bucking sex.

"--oh fuck-- shit, baby, are you serious? For Nanamin, huh? Fff--fuck-- so fucking beautiful." Satoru was shaking now, competitive bile rising in his throat, sorely tempted to throw Kento off of you, jealously coveting you in a way he hadn't earlier.

Satoru yanked his balls away from the base of his cock with a stilted growl, gripping himself, staving his orgasm away. He wouldn't waste a single drop of his seed until he could throw Kento out, and show you how a real man could fuck you. Kento knew the rules; he could not stay after to watch, and he could not spend his seed inside you. That privilege was Satoru's alone. Satoru ripped his blindfold off with a hiss, tossing it aside, staring into you and Kento and seeing you both in his own unique completion.

Kento wrapped his forearms around you, looped over the top of your thighs, licking you softly down from one orgasm, nuzzling you until you trembled, before lapping you back into his lips, and beginning to build you again, delicate, piece by piece.

"Kentooo-ooooo...aaahhhhh--put your--put your tongue in me-- please please pleas--"

Satoru almost ejaculated untouched, hearing you beg and twist under Kento's hungry tongue. He could see Kento's euphoria from your taste and twitches beneath his tongue. He could see the way Kento subtly fucked himself against the sheets, denying himself, and looking so cool about it, but still undeniably just a man.

"Shit-- baby-- see the way Nanamin's fucking our bed, huh?...fuck, why wouldn't he-- taste so fucking good, should we even let him fuck you, hmm?"

As lights and stars fell in your vision, rutting your clit against Kento's nose, his tongue licking as deeply as he could penetrate inside your cunt, you wondered faintly, that Kento was not fucking you, but making love to you instead. You felt wholly possessed, worshipped.

With Kento at your altar, you revelled, divine and cumming over, and over, and over, lost in some blissful fever-dream. Time lost meaning as he made you fluid beneath him.

Satoru moved to stand, and, still with his face between your legs, guiding you down from another orgasm, Kento raised one impeding just-a-moment finger to Satoru. Satoru's breaths were ragged, and he released his grip on the arm of the chair, moaning weak little moans as his aching cock sat, sore and in desperate need of something softer than his own hand.

Kento kissed his way back up to your mouth, face cupped, swiping the tears from your lashes with his thumbs.

"What do you think?" He whispered, teeth nipping at your tilted throat as you panted and shivered beneath his touch, "Can I give you what you want, goddess?" You nodded, short and incoordinate, and Kento could have burst with covetous pride to feel you hook your legs up and around his back, urging him, inviting him in.

Kento growled, feeling his leaking tip ghost the puffy tight wetness of your entrance. His breath caught in his chest, pins and needles all over his hips and cock as he bit back his orgasm, his brain fighting him with the image of you with his seed dripping all over your folds.

"Like it's your first time," Kento repeated, dipping his thumb over your tongue, groaning in approval as you sucked it, doe-eyed and supple and desperate to taste him, "I'll be gentle...I promise." You shivered, born anew as he began to press his cockhead inside you, both of you balanced on a knife's edge.

Satoru could have wept; your insistence on Kento taking you in missionary, of all positions, shielded you from his view, Kento's cock about to penetrate you behind the plush of your thighs.

"Stop," Satoru ordered, voice rasping, dry, clipped, "I'm here to watch, and you're here to do as you're fucking told, Nanami."

Nanami caught how your face twisted in frustration, anger at having been interrupted. He rose one hand to plait with yours again, licking your jaw as he stroked his cockhead between your folds, teasing your clit, shivering as he slyly encouraged you to give him a pussyjob. You mewled, feeling a hot dribble of pre-cum over your clit, dripping down towards your entrance.

"I only follow one person's orders here, Gojo," Kento rumbled, pressing his slit over your hard little bud, wiggling them together with a hiss so your most sensitive spots slipped together as puzzle pieces for a moment. You felt yourself, shaking like a leaf, feeling such copious amounts of Kento's arousal seep out around the seal his slit had made over your bud. You felt dizzy, clutching Kento's beautiful, clenching arms.

The centre of your world focused so entirely on Kento, you had placed yourself into the palm of his hand, aching for him to control you in a way that was so thoroughly in defence of you.

"Besides," Kento said, pressing his cock deeper now, husky as he felt your tight, gummy walls suck him in, "you should watch her face instead of her pussy...it's the best part."

Satoru whimpered, moaning as he fucked up into his own fist, lube splattered onto his groin, white hair wet with fluids; all for the look on your face as Kento bottomed out, thick and long and filling you with his oozing perfection. Your jaw fell slack, eyes dewy as you drank in Kento's muscular form, still bound by his brown harness. You sobbed with relief at the blissful stretch of his cock within you.

"So good...not too big for you, sweetheart? So brave...move yourself around my cock when you're ready."

You gripped Kento close, your arm round his chest and gripping his harness from the back, face buried into his chest. Your sob of relief at having been filled, threatened to grow into full tears at the exquisite beauty of being possessed with no selfishness. Kento felt you, one enormous hand tangled in the back of your head, the other leaning above you, intertwined with your free hand.

Kento was stock still, mumbling into your hair, kissing your ear, as you rolled your hips upwards, sweeping your slick pussy up and down his length, fucking him as he caged you in. Kento cursed, sweating and groaning, the leather of his harness creaking as his chest strained against it. His brow furrowed, and he cupped your hip in one hand, guiding you to keep sliding your pussy around his throbbing cock, rutting deeply down into you to meet your thrusts.

Hearing your gorgeous little mewls at Kento's blunt cockhead kissing your cervix was Satoru's last straw. His hand stuttered around his cock as he threw his head back, his orgasm hurtling over him with force.

"--agghh shit-- no more, I can't-- fuck you Nanami, you piece of--piece of shit--" Satoru's seed spattered over his belly, dripping down his hand, cock and balls as he groaned, interrupted by breathless, fractured gasps. He watched Kento's hips pick up pace, and watched as you pressed your forehead to his, all honey-rich and sweat as you panted into each other.

Kento couldn't have cared less about Satoru's jealous spitting, for he was wholly possessed by a primal urge to take you, and make you his. He kissed into your belly with his cock, gasping, feeling your walls clench around him, milking so much pre-cum from him that he shook, hot and thirsty, grunting against your clamouring lips.

Kento locked your ankles behind the small of his back, tipping your hips back into a press, pushing you past your pussy's limit to take any more of him. He rutted into you hard, barely pulling back, bullying your spongy walls with savage attentions, fully feral.

"--come on, girl--such a good girl, gonna--ahhh fuck gonna--hold--hold onto me--"

Taking full advantage of Satoru's dopey post-orgasm laxness, Kento pushed himself past the point of no return, loving you greedily and with no intention to share. Kento felt his balls tighten up, his seed loaded and ready to spill.

Satoru realised a moment too late; "--Nanami--pull out--don't you fucking dare--"

Kento came with a bark, feeling his cum start to pulse into you in long, thick spurts. Satoru darted forwards, still messy with his own cum, still half-dazed. Kento slung out an arm, his fingers fixing round Satoru's throat as he grunted, deep husky moans as he continued to spurt inside you, Kento's face the picture of serenity and rage.

Fingers gripped tight around Satoru who stood, teeth bared and considering murder, Kento came down from his high, panting, still rutting lazily into you. You lay, euphoric and full of thick cum, so sticky that it coated your inner walls, clinging to your slick pussy, barely leaking out as Kento pulled out.

"Sorry," Kento huffed, voice uncharacteristically light, "not sure...what came over me. You know what it's like, Gojo."

Kento released Satoru, reaching down to swipe your hair from your eyes, his own amber and affectionate; "Want me to run you a bath?"

You laughed softly, trying to cover your blushes. Satoru gripped Kento by the shoulder, throwing him back. Kento stepped smoothly into it, still looking longingly into you like Satoru was less than the most fleeting of irritations.

"Shut the fuck up, Nanami. Get out."

Satoru climbed over you, pressing you back onto the bed. Feeling his once familiar, adored body and kisses felt so curiously alien. As if you had been overwritten by something so much...more.

Satoru mumbled sweet nothings into your throat, restraining and possessive, as he lined his cock up with your entrance. A core instinctive knowing took control, and you closed your legs with an odd finality.

As Kento did up his last button, you looked to him as his eyes caught yours, fire burning within. He stepped away with a gracious nod, and with the click of the door, your stomach fell.

For Kento had left something behind, blooming within you, and took a part of you with him, pocketing something which you would surely be obliged to follow.

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It took Satoru many years to accept his own mistake. He did not accept it, when you told him you were leaving him. He did not accept it, when Nanami opened his doors to you and your suitcases, in the wee small hours of the night. He did not accept it as he watched you bloom, belly round and full with Nanami's growing seed, Nanami's hand overlaying yours, holding you and your baby. He did not accept it as he saw something between you and Nanami, that he had never felt between himself and you.

His mistake, was that Nanami Kento would not partake in cuckolding.

For Nanami Kento was not a cuckoo at all, but a thief, of the highest calibre.

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 4

Summary: Your heating system breaks and you and the boys have to come up with an unconventional way to combat the cold.

CW: Description/Talk of Chronic Illness, swearing.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Thanks so much to all of you who have been reading and following along!

I just want to preface this chapter by saying that I am not a doctor nor do I have any personal experience with RA. I have done some research on it but I am definitely not an expert on the condition and I apologize for any inaccuracies that may be present in this story

My goal was to include a condition that mimicked symptoms of Remus' lycanthropy as I feel that is an important part of his character and I wanted to make reference to that. But if anyone reading who has more experience in this area has noticed anything they'd like changed or corrected, feel free to reach out and let me know :).

Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!

--

"Ah, fuck! Damnit!"

You jolted awake at the sound of a crash coming from the kitchen and a slew of curses that followed. A quick glance at your clock on your bedside table told you it was nearing 2am.

Everyone should've been long asleep by now in your apartment but that didn't always mean they were. You'd grown accustomed over the last few weeks to being woken up at odd hours by your noisy roommates watching international sporting matches on TV or attempting to cook an unnecessarily complicated late night snack.

This voice, however, you were not particularly used to hearing at this time of night.

You rolled out of bed, pulling on a robe as the harsh winter air hit you. You reminded yourself to ask Sirius about the heating in the morning.

Then you tiptoed out in the hall, a light flutter of concern in your stomach, to see what all the fuss was about.

You peaked around the corner to see a pajama clad Remus, leaning against the kitchen counter, a hand pressed into his forehead and eyes clamped shut in frustration. There was a wheat bag discarded on the kitchen floor beside him.

You approached cautiously, like you were approaching a wild animal. Then you cleared your throat lightly so as not to startle him.

He looked up, hurriedly trying to regain his composure.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he muttered bashfully, as if he was a child who'd been caught sneaking cookies after bedtime.

"It's fine," you gave him a tight lipped smile. "Is everything okay?"

He huffed and rolled his eyes, only this time you could tell that his frustrations weren't directed towards you.

"Yeah, I just have this... thing." He stumbled over his wording, clearly embarrassed about whatever was going on. "It's called RA. It's a type of arthritis. The symptoms get worse in the cold weather. I was just trying to heat up my pack but my fingers aren't working properly."

Your brows furrowed as a jolt of sympathy washed over you. It was no secret that you and Remus didn't have the most friendly of relationships but you still felt for him nonetheless.

"Well, here," you said gently as you moved towards him. "Let me help."

You lifted the wheat bag from the floor and placed it into the microwave. You expected some form of protest from the man beside you but were surprised when he stepped aside in compliance.

"Thank you," he muttered distantly. You expected that on another occasioned he may have rejected the assistance, especially from you. From what you knew of Remus, he was headstrong and independent, almost to a fault. However, tonight you could tell he was exhausted and probably in a lot of pain.

He leaned back on the counter as the microwave began to turn and a low humming filled the room. In the low light, you could make out the lines of his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked slightly older than 23, you observed.

It seemed as thought the stressed of life had worn him down. Yet even at 2am with his hair crumpled from sleep and his eyes weary, he was still devastatingly handsome.

"If it's not out of turn to ask, how long has this been going on?"

"A while, since I was a teenager, at least. Maybe before that. I was diagnosed at 16 but I've had some level of aches and pains as long as I can remember."

You grimaced. "I'm sorry. That must have made things hard for you."

He shrugged in response. “It’s okay usually. I mean, I can deal with it most of the time. It’s just when I have these flare ups that it becomes a problem.”

“You’ve never mentioned it before.”

He sighed. “I don’t like to make an ordeal out of it if I can avoid it.”

You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was uncomfortable. You assumed he didn’t bring it up on purpose so as to not seem weak or needy.

“Well I hope you feel better soon,” you told him gently.

The microwave beeped and you removed the heat pack. You’re fingers brushed as you passed it too him.

“Thank you, really.”

He gave you a small smile which you couldn’t help but return.

“Don’t mention it.”

Going back to bed, you felt a little lighter. Things were far from perfect in your relationship with Remus but tonight had felt like progress. Who knows, maybe you were finally on the verge of a breakthrough with him.

Maybe soon you’d actually be able to become friends.

The thought comforted you as you drifted back off to sleep.

—

Stepping out of bed in the morning felt like stepping straight into a freezer. You shivered immediately and put your robe on. When that still wasn't enough to shield you from the cold, you pulled your fluffy blanket off the end of the bed before waddling out into the living room looking like a medieval peasant.

"Yep, this thing's buggered," you heard Sirius say as you stepped out into the living area.

"What's buggered?"

He looked up at you from where he was crouched in the corner of the room.

"The radiator," he replied, tapping it with his knuckle. "I'll call the landlord about it but he's a right git so It might be some time before he bothers to get it looked at."

"Well, I suppose we'll all just have to freeze to death then," James teased. "What a shame. I was really looking forward to New Years."

"You'd probably hold out a little longer if you ever bothered to put a shirt on," Remus deadpanned from his spot on the sofa. He was half listening to the conversation while also clearly immersed in a book.

James was standing in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of cereal, his bare chest on display, showing off his perfectly chiseled abs.

"Oh come on Remus. Admit it, you know you love the view."

He sent his friend a wink as he rounded the counter and came to flop down beside him on the couch. He was met with an eyeroll in response.

"Sorry to interrupt the fun," you murmured. "But seriously, what are we going to do about the heating? I'm freezing."

Sirius stood up, looking at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well, you know, we could always cuddle for warmth."

"Ha-ha. Very funny Sirius," you scoffed but the suggestion had James sitting up straight, coming very close to sloshing his bowl of cereal all over his lap.

"You know that's not actually such a bad idea!"

You raised a brow at him. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not Sirius, actually, I'm James," he teased. "But I'm not joking about this idea! We all have the day off today don't we? Why don't we all grab our bedspreads and we can huddle up on the couch and spend the day watching Christmas movies!"

His eyes were bright like a little kid's and you couldn't help but smile in return.

"Okay. That sounds like fun."

"Hey, it'll be like those sleepovers we had at your Mum's place back in high-school!" Sirius exclaimed.

"What about you, Rem?" he turned to his friend. "You in?"

The boy looked between the three of you for a moment as if considering the offer.

"I really should be studying today."

James groaned, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on! It'll be fun."

He stood up, closing his book and began to retreat down the hallway.

"Sorry, guys. I can't today. You all enjoy though."

With that he was gone, the door of his bedroom falling shut behind him.

James sighed but it was quickly replaced by his usual lopsided smile. "Oh well! Let's get going then."

--

It wasn't long after when you found yourself situated on the couch beside Sirius, with James on his other side, practically swaddled in blankets. James had made you all teas and a large array of snacks were splayed out on the coffee table, however, none of you were willing to poke a hand out of your cocoon to reach for them.

You all decided to start with Elf (which James had suggested as his favourite Christmas film) and work your way through the list of classics.

Laughter emitted through the air as you watched Buddy the Elf discover New York city. However, you noticed the way that Sirius glanced down the hall towards Remus' closed door every so often, as if he was disappointed that Remus wasn't there to enjoy the fun with you.

You couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at the situation. You felt responsible for Remus choosing not to spend the day with his two best friends. You were sure if it wasn't for your participation he wouldn't have hesitated to agree to the day's events.

You had thought that last night had been progress but now you weren't so sure. Remus, for whatever reason, still hadn't warmed up to you, despite not knowing what you did to warrant his reaction and all the attempts you'd made at a peace offering. Whatever it was, it was starting to really frustrate you.

You tried to wipe the thought from your mind as the movie progressed, instead enjoying the time with the two boys you did get along with.

By the time the end credits were rolling, you'd almost forgotten all about your plight with Remus and were just enjoying the laughter that rang through the air at some of the commentary Sirius had made throughout the film.

"Alright! What's next on the list?" James called, leaning forward to grab the remote.

“I vote Home Alone!” You chimed in.

Sirius sent you an odd look. “What? Home Alone isn’t a Christmas movie.”

James gasped and you flashed him a dramatic look of mock offence.

“Yes it absolutely is!” James argued.

“Yeah, the best one at that,” you declared.

“No it’s not! It’s just a movie that happens to be set at Christmas time. That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie!”

You rolled your eyes. “Sirius, that’s literally the entire criteria for what a Christmas movie is.”

James shook his head at his friend. “Yeah! Next you’ll be claiming that Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie either!”

Sirius looked at him with a deadpan expression. “It’s not.”

James put a hand on his chest and pretended to faint at the notion.

“How dare you! Die Hard is a fabulous Christmas movie!”

“Okay, now you’ve gone too far!”

Sirius threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay okay, fine. Let’s watch Home Alone.”

You smiled at him. “Good, I knew you’d come to your senses.”

James chucked in response as he put the movie.

You nestled down into your blanket nest, feeling a shiver run through you as the opening credits began.

“Are you cold, love?” Sirius leaned down, almost whispering the words into your ear.

“Just a little,” you mumbled. “But really it’s fine.”

“Well that won’t do!” He shook his head playfully. “Here!”

He stood up from the sofa, gesturing for you to shuffle over. When you did, he sat back down on your other side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. James, who was now to your right, pulled your curled up knees into his lap so that you were sandwiched between the two boys.

You felt your face heat up as you sat there, surrounded by their gentle embrace. You hoped they were too distracted with the movie to notice the way your pulse began to climb.

“Feeling better now?” Sirius murmured into your hair. A chill ran up your spine but this one you knew wasn’t from the cold.

“Much,” you murmured nestling your head back against his warm chest.

You felt it rumble as he let out a chuckle, rubbing and hand up and down your arm soothingly.

—

About halfway through the film, you were interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open. Three sets of eyes looked up to see Remus shuffling rather bashfully into the room.

He was dressed in a large knitted jumper and long brown pants but even under all the layers, he was visibly shivering. You weren’t surprised. Those bedrooms were like ice boxes.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked quietly, scratching the back of his neck.

You smirked in response.

“Hmm, sorry. I'm not sure of there's any room left,” Sirius teased.

“Come on, Sirius, don’t be mean. He looks freezing!” James exclaimed, lifting up the blanket and gesturing Remus to join you under it.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“I’m just kidding. Of course you can join. Here, sit, I’ll make you a tea.”

Sirius stood up abruptly, heading into the kitchen and opening a space beside you for Remus on the couch.

He looked hesitant at first, as if he wasn’t sure if you would want him with you, but you gave him a small smile and lifted up your blanket.

He sat down then, sighing as he nestled under the warm covers and you splayed the bed-spread over his lap.

Sirius returned moments later with fresh cups of tea for the four of you and plonked himself down beside Remus. You noticed the way the taller boy leaned into him, almost as if they were unconsciously pulled towards each other.

Sirius reached out a hand and softly rubbed the other boy’s knee. You raked your eyes away from the scene focusing back onto the movie. But every so often you couldn’t help but watched the way they drew together, like they were puzzle pieces perfectly made to fit into each others embrace.

It made you feel odd, and you didn’t quite know why. You had no reason to be jealous and you weren’t even fully sure who there was to be jealous of. But the feeling in your stomach had become all too familiar over the recent weeks.

You moved closer to James, snuggling in to his side.

—

Several hours, and four movies later, the sun had faded outside over the horizon. The room had become dark, the only light coming from the flickering TV screen as the Polar Express played.

Sirius sat up to stretch and looked around. It was then that he noticed you and James, fast asleep, your head leaning against his chest and one of his arms thrown lazily over your shoulder.

His glasses were askew and your cheek was smushed against the front of his t-shirt, hair falling across your face.

A smirk blossomed on Sirius’s lips at the sight and he gently nudged Remus in the ribs and gestured towards the two of you.

He raised a brow. “They look… uh, comfortable.”

Sirius chuckled. “That they do.”

He stood up from the couch, shedding his blanket and pulling his phone from his pocket to take a snapshot of the two of you, which he definitely intended to send to your friends.

“Leave them be,” Remus chided, grasping the boy by the arm and pulling him back down onto the couch.

“What? It’s cute. And it will be perfect blackmail material. It’s a win win.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You’re cruel. You know that?”

“I’m wonderful, thank you very much.”

Remus shook his head fondly. Then he glanced over again as you shifted in your sleep. Without thinking, he leaned over and tugged the blanket up where it had fallen off your shoulder.

Then he sat back, nestling back into Sirius’ side. The other boy raised a brow at the display but chose to say nothing as he wrapped an arm around his friend and let the movie continue.

—

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy

@navs-bhat

@shushbruv

@magicwithaknife

@eeviee4

@notapoetjustscar

@gugggu6gvai

@robertsmithclone

@ilovesugurugeto69

[lovebugism]

shy! reader request: eddie & reader having their first sleepover? reader bein all cautious about her actions and if it’s ok and eddie seeing this just lifts up the blankets to the bed to welcome her in to snuggle :)

love love love this request! hope you enjoy :D — eddie tries to make his shy!gf feel at home in his trailer (fluff, new relationship hijinks, 2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Despite what people say, Eddie Munson does not drive like a maniac.

Correction— Eddie Munson doesn’t drive like a maniac when there’s a pretty girl in his van.

Even though you’re pretty much the first girl to be in his van period (and even though you wouldn’t consider yourself all that pretty), you’re glad to be an exception to the rule. Your panoply of anxieties couldn’t have handled anything more than the passably steady car ride from Benny’s Burgers to Forest Hills.

You don’t mean to let out a sigh of relief when he parks in his driveway.

Eddie grins and unlatches his seatbelt with a soft click at the same time you do. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks with eyes just as wild as his hair.

You shake your head with your lips pursed to the side, then peer at him from beneath your lashes. “After everything Steve said, I was expecting a lot worse,” you confess. And even though you duck away from him, Eddie can still see the small smile on your petaled mouth. Just as quiet as you are.

“Well, one, don’t listen to anything Steve says, okay? Like, ever,” Eddie cajoles lightheartedly. “And two, I don’t drive crazy when I have precious cargo sitting next to me, alright? Stevie’s just jealous ‘cause I think you’re prettier than he is.”

Your nose scrunches as you try to worm your way out of his compliment. “So you think Steve’s pretty?” you tease, already knowing the answer.

He scoffs. “Totally! Just not pretty like you. And don’t tell him I said that either— It’ll just go to his hair.”

The incorrect turn of phrase makes you giggle.

He turns his knees towards the door and curls his fingers around the latch. “Wait for me a second, will ya?” you hear him mumble before he hops to the ground. He slams the door shut behind him and rounds the hood on his way to you — sneakers crunching against the gravel, momentarily aglow with yellow headlights.

He’d done this before at the diner. You wait patiently for his arrival like you did then, even though you feel a bit silly doing so. You’re more than capable of getting out yourself, but Eddie always insists. 

He opens the passenger side door for you with a tightlipped, lopsided grin and holds his free hand out towards you. His fingers are larger and much warmer than yours as they wrap around your palm to guide you out. 

The van isn’t that high up off the ground, really. He just likes to hold your hand.

You don’t mind it, though. You’ll take any opportunity to hold him back.

He leads you up the driveway and inside the trailer with his hand entwined with yours. “Wayne’s not here?” you murmur when you’re finally inside, noticing how quiet and empty the place is. 

Though maybe empty’s not the right word. The place is filled with stuff — old furniture, a collection of mugs, and various other necessities. Not a mess, just an organized chaos of miscellaneous clutter. It feels like a home. Like a place that’s been lived in.

“No. He’s at work. Graveyard shift,” Eddie answers, tossing his keys onto the coffee table with a high-pitched clack. 

He starts to shrug off his leather jacket and notices how squirrelly you seem, all skittish with your face twisted with a distant worry. Your neck twitches softly, head tilting once to the side and back up again. Your quiet concern becomes his own.

His brows raise, hidden beneath his curly bangs, as he slides the fabric down his tattooed arms. “Is that okay?” he wonders, eyes wide and twinkling with apprehension.

“Yeah!” you answer, louder and quicker than you mean to. You’re obviously overcompensating, but you shrug it off anyway. You smile sweetly at him, even though it wavers at the edges, and tilt your cheek to your shoulder. “I was just— It was just a question.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“‘Cause it’s okay if you don’t wanna stay the night,” Eddie assures you, giving you an out so you don’t have to make one yourself. “It’s whatever, you know? Give me the word, and I’ll take you back home. I’ll just spend the night all alone… In an empty trailer… In bed all by myself…”

His quiet smirk widens to a broader beam when he nears you. His pale hands curl around your arms, the faded bats below his thumb sitting neatly outside your elbow. 

He’s joking, of course. Well, not about the taking you home part, but about all the rest of it. 

He thinks he’d die if he ever made you feel anything less than totally safe. Dying would feel easier, at least. He’d never make you feel bad about being anxious, or coerce you into hiding your feelings for his sake. He cares about you far too much for any of that.

So his tense heart rests a bit when you smile.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, quiet but still sincere. 

The boy brightens all at once. Excited in such an innocent, boyish way. “So I get to kiss you all night long?” he wonders in a disbelieving murmur.

“Only if you want,” you answer with burning cheeks and clammy hands.

“Well, I do want… I want very much…”

He kisses you then, until your lungs run out of air. Standing together in the middle of his living room, lit by so many yellow lamps, with the croaking of frogs and the chittering of crickets sounding in the navy blue night.

He pulls away sometime after. Maybe a second. Maybe an eon or more. He recovers from being so ardently kissed much quicker than you do and guides you down the short hallway to the single bedroom. You still feel the imprint of his mouth against yours, like he’s still there. 

Your lips tingle with longing, grieving the lack of him.

You still make him turn around before you change, though.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he teases from the very center of his mattress, right before turning onto his stomach and shoving his face into the pillow.

“It’s different,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you slide the sleeves of your dress down your shoulders. The fabric falls to the carpeted floor in a puddle at your feet. You make quick work of redressing, as though there were some kinda time limit to what you had asked of him.

“I know,” he replies, muffled into the cushion his cheek is smushed against. “You’re still pretty, though.”

“You can’t even see me,” you argue and slide a pair of frilly sleep shorts over your thighs.

“I’d still think you were pretty even if I never saw you again.”

“Jeez,” you laugh, shoving your head through the neckline of a band-tee older than you are.

“…That sounded kinda morbid, huh?”

You giggle again. This time because his voice is still smothered into the pillow, stifled and utterly faint. “Just a little,” you answer.

“Well, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

“I know. You can turn around now.”

Eddie lifts his wild head and peeks at you over his shoulder, one eye squinted shut just in case he heard you wrong.

You’re less dressed up than before, but still as pretty as you were ten minutes ago. 

The subtle domesticity of seeing you in pajamas makes his chest ache. It’s like doing laundry or making a shopping list — something so utterly mundane that’s so strikingly tender.

“Pretty,” Eddie mumbles some moments later, when his brain forgets every word but that one.

“Shut up.”

Your hands wring together as you idle at his bedside, like you need some kinda invitation to come closer. Your head tilts again, a gentle swaying of your head that seems almost involuntary.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Eddie wonders with a soft pink, inquisitive grin. 

‘Cause this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. You did it earlier, when you first walked in, and a couple times at the dinner. Like when you catch him staring or after he’s complimented you. It’s almost like you have some genuine aversion to his affection.

“Doing what?” you murmur, all innocent.

Eddie swings his legs off the side of the mattress, socked feet melting into the carpet. His parted thighs are enough of an invitation as you settle intently between them. 

“That thing with your neck,” he answers when he’s fully upright. “The uh…” He replicates it for you, drops his cheek to his shoulder and brings it back up again. He doubts he looks nearly as cute as you do doing it.

You get so self-aware that your stomach starts to ache. “I don’t know,” you answer through the frog in your throat. “I do that sometimes, I guess— When I get nervous. I can’t really help it.”

“Nervous?” Eddie echoes, face twisted with sudden anguish. His hands reach for your wringing ones. He musters a shaking smile up at you. “Babe— Why are you nervous?”

You dig your bare feet into the carpet, shifting your weight and ducking your gaze like a nervous child. “‘Cause I haven’t slept over before. And I don’t really know what to… do. Like, what if I snore really loud? Or drool a lot? What if I accidentally punch you in my sleep or something?”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh in the face of your genuine worries, but it spills out before he can stop it. It’s so like you to stress yourself sick over something that’s about as likely to happen as getting struck by lightning.

“I’d probably like you more, honestly,” he answers, giving your clammy hands a gentle squeeze. His nose scrunches until the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You’re too perfect. You need something to humble you.”

“Don’t be nice to me, I’m being serious.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can sleep on the couch. Or on the floor or something—”

“It’s your house, Eds.”

“Well, I’m not making you sleep on the couch, and especially not on the floor. Even if I was that big of an asshole, I think Uncle Wayne would kill me.” He grows suddenly serious a second later. Still smiling, but with something more earnest in his eyes. “But… I do think we’d be more comfortable, you know, in a bed. Together.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t mean you’re happy about it. Not because you don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him, but because you’re too anxious to let yourself enjoy a good thing.

“I’m just bad at sleepovers, I think,” you confess in a tiny voice, like that fact isn’t utterly obvious now. “Like, one time, I was at a friend’s house in middle school, and I used a poster as a blanket ‘cause I was too scared to ask for a real one.”

Eddie’s smile widens. The rose petal expression blooms so large it makes his cheeks hurt. 

“Of course, you did,” the boy says with a shake of his head, frizzy curls swaying around the outsides of his jaw. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?”

You make a vague, grumbly noise of disdain right before Eddie wraps you in his arms. He pulls you softly down until you’re sitting on his jean-clad thighs, then buries his face into your shoulder. You smell like the soap you showered with and the burgers you ate and the perfume you put on just for him.

Eddie presses his lips there, to your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt has dipped slightly down. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls away with a soft smack.

“I promise to make this the best damn sleepover you’ve ever had in your life,” he promises, muffled from where his nose is smushed into your neck.

“Yeah?” you mumble into the curls tickling your chin.

He nods, still pressed against you. “And I promise to tuck you in before bed so you don’t have to go using my posters as blankets, either.”

You push him away with a half-hearted hand. His boyish laughter paints the tiny bedroom golden. He pulls you back a second later, and you melt into him without thinking twice.

[morose-melodies]

i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

[froggiewrites]

Hii, I hope you're doing well, if not I'll hope things will go better!

I really liked your writing like it's so good!!

I have an sfw request about Ace.

So basically reader is feeling really sick recently so they spend a lot of time with Marco who gives them advices and all, and Ace gets jealous about this cause he thinks that reader is interested in Marco so one day when he's with the both of them he just says something like "oh I wouldn't want to be the third wheel" like something that clearly shows that he thought the two of them were now a couple and when he learns that they're not he immediately confess to reader?

I really hope it's not too precise, if you want to change things feel free to since you're the artist here, and I hope you understood (English isn't my first language) thank you so much for the other stories!

Take care, bye bye!

Hi, thank you so much for your well wishes and your request! Sorry this took so long, I burned myself out a little bit with the Halloween event and it took me a little time to get back into the swing of things. This one is short and sweet, and I hope you like it!

Third Wheeling It

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've been spending a lot of time down in the clinic with Marco recently, and Ace gets the wrong idea. Warnings: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort, Idiots in Love Word Count: 1.6k

You’re convinced you’re never going to feel normal again. You have a headache you just can’t shake, and a fatigue down to your bones. You haven’t been able to shake whatever it is, no matter how much you rest.

“Are you really sure I just need to take it easy? It’s been weeks.”

Marco gives you a sympathetic look. “I know, but you really do just need time. You burned yourself out. Recovering from that takes a while.” He had been telling you that since you first started making regular visits to his office a couple weeks ago. You had spent a majority of the last week curled up in one of the beds in the clinic, pretending to rest but really just bothering Marco to entertain yourself. You suppose it was rest, in a way, but you liked to pretend you were somehow tricking him, getting away with something. It made you feel less helpless, and helped ease the ache of missing your normal routine.

You throw yourself down on the cot you had claimed for your own. “But I want to be better now.”

He laughs. “Don’t we all. If desire were all it took, I would be out of a job.”

“You could still fight. You don’t need to be a doctor to be a pirate.”

“True enough. But my point still stands: if our bodies listened to what we wanted there would be no need for doctors. Sometimes there really is no magic solution other than time.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He passes by your cot, ruffling your hair light as he walks past. “But you’ll pull through.”

“Will you sit with me? We can suffer together.”

“I have work to do,” he says, sitting on the edge of your cot with a slight smile anyway. “And I wouldn’t really call hanging out with you suffering.”

You smile sleepily. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need to raise your standards.”

“My standards are sky high, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“One, handsome. Two, nice to me. Three, end of list.”

He laughs. “God, the bar is in the ground for you, huh? Let me correct that for you: three, be Portgas D. Ace.”

You blush. “That–I–uh. Shut up!”

Marco is still laughing at you when you hear a throat clear in the doorway. You both look up to see the man you were just speaking of leaning against the doorframe, his eyes avoiding yours, a slight frown on his lips. “Sorry, I just–I heard you were down here again, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at him, bright and earnest. “I’m doing alright, I guess. As well as I can be.”

Marco stands, moving away from your bed and back to his desk, more than willing to let Ace take his place at your sickbed. “They’re fine, really. They just hate listening to me.”

“I’d like listening to you if you had better things to say.”

“Ouch!” He puts a hand over his chest. “I’m just doing my job here!”

As you both giggle with each other, Marco trying to distract you and you trying to let him, you both miss Ace shifting uncomfortably and biting his lip. However, once you’ve come back down, you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you, a look far too intense to dismiss. It’s strange, somewhere half between hurt and resignation. Something flashes in his eyes, something pained, but before you can ask him what’s wrong he’s already turned his back. “I’ll leave you two to hang out. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re leaving already?” You can’t leave the sorrow out of your voice or the pout off of your face. “But I’ve missed you.” And you had, really. Spending most of your time down here with Marco means you’ve barely spent any time at all with Ace these past few weeks. You had missed everything about him, from his smile to his laugh to his loud, obnoxious snores when he passed out halfway through dinner. 

His shoulders stiffen. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You could give a guy the wrong idea.”

You sit up, wincing but forcing yourself through the discomfort. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“The idea that you might be…interested.”

“That sounds like the right idea, actually.”

He whips around, his face painted with hurt. “That isn’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“I…really. This isn’t…this is cruel. Having to third wheel with you two is hard enough without…”

Marco finally speaks up, his voice filled with confusion. “Third wheel?”

“Yeah, watching you two get closer while I have to pretend I’m fine is hard enough, you guys don’t need to rub it in my face.” He doesn’t sound angry, really, just defeated and pained. “I’m trying to be happy for you, you don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

You furrow your brow. “Happy for us?”

Marco can’t help the surprised bark of a laugh that leaves him. “You think we’re dating?”

Ace pauses. “You…aren’t?”

“Hell no!”

“Absolutely not!”

You and Marco both instantly refute the claim, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary.

Ace lights up like the sun. “You mean it?”

“Of course we mean it!” You cry.

“Why wouldn’t we mean it?” Marco chuckles, voice filled with the sort of weary but unwavering affection Ace tends to bring out in people. 

“Will you go out with me?” Ace stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, already moving to beg on his hands and knees, as though he expects rejection.

“You aren’t really my type,” Marco quips with a laugh, before closing the curtain to give you two some privacy.

It’s your turn to be shocked, heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushing. “You–I–What?”

He grins, on his knees in front of you, taking a hand in his. “I like you, a lot. Will you go out with me?”

“This is so sudden.” You want to say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you? But you weren’t expecting such a confession today, and your head is still pounding, and you can’t quite get over the thought that Marco is listening right behind the curtain. You know that Ace doesn’t care about any of those things, blind to anything but his goal in any situation, but you could never be so headstrong, so carefree. Could you?

“I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you.” His smile is growing ever wider, his eyes filling with hope. “I thought I had lost my chance, and I will absolutely never take that risk again. Will you be mine? Or, I guess, could I be yours?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and your brain is melting, but your mouth moves despite yourself. “Yes,” you hear yourself say.

You’re pinned to the bed as he throws himself at you, laughing joyously. “Yes? Oh my god, yes!” He tucks his face into your neck, and you can feel his smile. “I never thought it’d be a yes.”

“How could it be anything else?” Your voice is soft, more vulnerable than you’d like. But you would never understand how he could expect anything less than success. You don’t know how anyone could speak to Ace for longer than five minutes and not fall madly and deeply in love with everything about him: his smile, his humor, his confidence. He shines like the sun, and you don’t know how anyone could ever resist basking in his warmth for as long as they can.

“Well up until a couple minutes ago I thought you were in love with Marco.”

You laugh. “I’ve been sick, Ace. He’s a doctor.”

He doesn’t respond, and you can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked.”

“You should listen to them,” Marco calls from behind the curtain. “This was entirely self-inflicted.”

“Shut up!” He finally leaves your neck just to shout at Marco, cheeks hot. “Would you have asked?”

“Yes. I’m a grown man. I can handle a tough conversation.”

“Well–I–Shut up!”

Marco laughs, and you can hear the door slam shut behind him. Ace buries himself in your neck again, his strong arms pulling around you even tighter, and you can’t help but smile. He seems so delicate like this, so unlike his usual self, and you can’t help but admire him. He’s so charming even now, so vulnerable and small. “I would have been too nervous to ask too,” you quietly reassure him. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you said it.”

He smiles against your skin. “I did say it,” he mumbles. “And you accepted.”

“I did.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

You don’t have a moment to react before his lips are on yours, slightly chapped and hesitant. You imagine this is what sunlight tastes like, warm and inviting. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He’s smiling as he pulls away. “And now I can do that whenever I want.”

You grin. “You can. You’re encouraged, even.”

And so he kisses you again. Marco leaves you too alone for as long as he can justify to himself, and when he finally interrupts you two again you find yourself more than ready to leave the clinic again, a warm hand intertwined with yours and your headache nearly entirely gone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[badscienceman]

I saw someone ask what "I hope this hurts" means beyond the obvious, and I started to respond only for it to turn into an essay... Because I don't feel like dumping something so long in some unsuspecting person's notifs, I'm just going to post it here instead.

I started writing this after playing the game, but ended up watching a playthrough because I couldn't remember exactly where "I hope this hurts" was repeated. I think I caught the only few times it was mentioned, but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something, so feel free to correct me on that or anything else I might have gotten wrong.

Spoilers for the full game and CWs for everything you would expect from discussing Mouthwashing apply.

Edited 10/16/2024 for clarity and some minor issues with formatting. I added sections in hopes of making it more readable, as well as a few more screenshots that I hope will support my points better. *Indicates where I made potentially significant additions to my original analysis.

Part One: Jimmy

Jimmy is someone who has a delicate ego. This means that he's very concerned with how he's perceived by those around him. We see this in how he responds to Curly and the news of the company's closure, which he takes it as a personal attack in spite of it very clearly having nothing to do with him on a personal level.

For people like Jimmy, a threat to one's image (whether it's a matter of their perception of themselves or, maybe worse, the perception others have of them) brings intense emotional pain. Even though it's clear that Curly meant no personal offense, and likely saw more good in Jimmy than was actually there, Jimmy sees this as a great threat to his own image, and thus identity.

To be clear, it's not just that Jimmy thinks Curly is looking down on him. It's also that Jimmy needs his role in the company to maintain his image, and he needs to eventually become captain. This is his ultimate goal because the respect and control that someone like Curly has, in Jimmy's mind, is tied to the title he possesses. And Jimmy wants that. He wants respect, he wants to be listened to, he wants power over others. (This is also why Swansea's final speech is so important, in relation to the belief that if one just reaches this next goal, they might feel a little more human, a little more in control, a little more fulfilled, but as Swansea shows us, that's just not the case. And it's true for Jimmy, too. Jimmy isn't magically fulfilled by obtaining the title of captain.)

But in the beginning, Jimmy has yet to realize that just getting the role of captain won't magically make him a man who is respected, or even a man who is truly in control. He sees no opportunities for himself on earth. The only option is to stay in this company and become a little lord of his own ship... and suddenly that's ripped out from under him. He will never reach the goal he's been chasing for all of this time.

Anya telling him about her pregnancy is the final push he needs to go over the edge.

Part Two: Captain

Returning to the initial reveal that the company is shutting down for a second, I think it's important to keep in mind a few things:

1. The importance of the title of captain in Jimmy's mind.

2. How this extends to his perception of Curly, him being the current captain.

3. Jimmy's self-centeredness preventing him from understanding the feelings and perceptions of those around him.

When Curly says what he does, Jimmy immediately jumps to the conclusion that Curly sees himself as above everyone else (and most importantly, as above Jimmy), to the point of considering them "dirt." I don't think Jimmy is just projecting his greatest fear (being seen as lesser) onto Curly. I think he's projecting his own perceptions.

He's placed all of this importance on the title of captain, and thus Curly. The captain is above Jimmy. Jimmy is beneath him, is lesser. And we know how Jimmy treats those he sees as lesser (first Anya, and then the rest of the crew once he's captain, *manipulating Daisuke into putting his life at risk because Daisuke, who is just an intern after all, just isn't important to Jimmy being an example).

I think this is a fair reading because Jimmy does something similar with Swansea when he insists that Swansea is keeping the last cryostasis pod for himself. I understand some might say that this is just Jimmy's attempt to manipulate Daisuke and Jimmy doesn't actually believe it, which is a fair interpretation, but I sincerely think he believes what he's saying in this instance. And I think that because Jimmy sees selfishness as common sense. It's what he would do were he in Swansea's position, and what makes him giving the pod to Curly significant.

Part Three: Anya

So, Jimmy is already hurt and panicking. He sees his chance at power and thus fulfillment slipping away. And then Anya tells him that she's pregnant.

Anya, who he has shown time and time again that he thinks little of.

Anya, who he clearly sees as beneath him.

Any mention of the pregnancy, no matter how gently it was worded, would immediately feel like a threat to him on multiple levels. And not only that, but a threat from someone lesser than him. His image, his status, his control, his power—it's already slipping from his fingertips. *It's happening right then, in that moment. It's not just a potential future where he's held accountable in a real way (maybe if Anya involved authorities, or if Jimmy was legally responsible for supporting a child once they returned to earth). It's happening now, because his image is crumbling.

For this reason, I believe I hope this hurts to be directed at anyone and everyone that he sees as "threatening" him.

Anya and Curly have made him hurt. He wants to make them hurt.

He doesn't care about Daisuke and Swansea. If anything, he's so caught up in himself and this contorted vision of reality, I wouldn't be shocked if he convinced himself in the moment that they, too, were looking down on him for some reason. (See again, "I know what everyone is thinking. The way they look at me." Obviously this is said in the midst of his spiral, after the crash, but I wouldn't doubt the paranoia was there before that moment.)

He wants to make them hurt as they've hurt him. He may also want to make himself hurt in order to vent out his emotional pain. If not, death may simply be the easiest way to escape pain and the threat the future holds in his mind.

*Part Four: Without the Guilt

In addition to all of this, I think crashing the ship (making them hurt) is his vision of what Curly has done or is doing to him. This is how he "leave(s) the dirt behind."

To understand this, I'm going to include the birthday conversation and the conversation between Jimmy and Curly about crashing the ship.

Jimmy: ... So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt. Curly: Jim... If I had known... Jimmy: I can go back to my, how'd you put it? "Struggle of a life?" Jimmy: Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real. Jimmy: And how many employment years Swansea got left in him? Jimmy: Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least. Jimmy: But you. Headed for bigger and better, right? Curly: I'm just... I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape! That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor- Jimmy: We're the ones you're trying to escape! Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean! Curly: That's not what I meant. Jimmy: It is what you meant. Jimmy: You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. Jimmy: Abandon the crew but remain the model captain.

To me, this is one of the most important and revealing sections of the game. Jimmy is not only projecting onto Curly, he's telling us exactly what he's going to go on to do (or attempt to do) when he becomes captain.

In addition to this, we see his manipulation on full display as he twists Curly's words and won't allow him even a moment to truly speak beyond a few lines he manages to get in between Jimmy's ranting.

That's not to mention we see the beginning of yet another pattern in Jimmy's behavior: getting a person to admit their weakness, then using it against them and/or using it to hurt them (he does this with Daisuke, for example, when he hears Daisuke's fears/desire for approval and proceeds to use it to get Daisuke in the vent). Here, Curly speaks about feeling trapped. Jimmy will soon trap him in a crashed ship just as much as he traps him in his own body, which Jimmy will proceed to drug. But I'll return to that.

Curly: Jim. I can fix this. Jimmy: What do you think will happen when we get back? Hm? Curly: We can figure all of this out. You and me. Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy: All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God, it's so annoying. Jimmy: But, now... What do you think will happen now when we get back? Curly: We'll fix this together. Jimmy: Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments, changes. Jimmy: None of it will matter. Curly: You've gotten through difficult situations before. This time won't be any different. Work through it, one day at a time. Jimmy: It's not just me, is it? Jimmy: You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself. Jimmy: The ship, this crew, everything that happened here... Jimmy: This was your responsibility, Captain. Jimmy: That is what you'll be hearing the rest of your life. Take responsibility. Jimmy: Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy. Jimmy: Despite what must have been the best efforts of its acclaimed captain. Jimmy: The Tulpar crew was never found. Jimmy: No one survived to tell the tale. Take responsibility. Jimmy: You're standing at the top. Jimmy: Feet in cement. Jimmy: I get it now. Right? Curly: ... Curly: ... Right.

This is an important moment, because aside from the scene in which Jimmy is approaching Curly while he's on fire, it's the only other time that I can recall the game separating from their perspectives to allow us to see them both, standing together.

We see a flash of Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy begins to pull away. Another flash. He continues to draw back. Another. He turns towards the cockpit.

Jimmy sees through Curly. He sees Curly's worst where Curly sees only Jimmy's best, and he's more that willing to use that against Curly.

He sees a man who is not going to do what's hard. He sees a man who is going to try to "fix it" only in the most superficial sense. A man who confuses the appearance of cohesion and peace with the reality of it. Someone who sees the rocking of the boat as a manifestation of taking action against a wrong rather than the wrong itself.

In the end, it seems they're both ruled by appearances. And Jimmy will soon rip appearances in every sense from Curly's fingertips. He will make him hurt. He will get his revenge. He'll turn Curly into the villain, taking away his title, his respect, and his very face.

For daring to look down on him, Jimmy will turn Curly into dust.

But I think these words—I hope it hurts—come back to haunt him.

Part Five: The Eye as a Mirror

Like I said, I went back to try to find each time the phrase is used. There's the beginning, of course, but then there's the pregnancy sequence, for lack of a better name.

When the Polle monstrosity emerges from the giant uterus (?), we see these words:

In this sequence, we see a lot of different images and concepts connected: Anya's pregnancy and thus her sexual assault by Jimmy are tied to Polle and the company. The emergence of the Polle monster from the giant uterus (and the idea of the removal of the pregnancy) is tied to the mouthwash, as it's an act of "cleansing." This is all then tied to the phrase I hope this hurts.

Unless I missed something, these are the only two moments when the phrase is used: When Jimmy crashes the ship, and when he's experiencing this hallucination.

All clean! Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth, huh? Through wreckage! Through silence! Wash it away! All day fire fresh!

"Clean" is important immediately. "Leave the dirt behind you now that your boots are clean," Jimmy says. Because in this accusation is Jimmy's actual intentions himself. He wants to rise above others and clean himself from their filth. Now, he wants to clean himself of his sins.

I think "Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth" is mocking him. A direct challenge to the thought that he could ever truly be "cleaned," at least in the ways he's so desperately trying to go about it. *Not to mention how this connects to the mouthwash, as it might get that 99%, but there's always going to be 1% left.

"Through wreckage" obviously refers to the wrecking of the ship, but also of their lives. All by Jimmy. Though I wouldn't doubt in his mind it connects to the wreckage of consequences (ie. Anya's pregnancy resulting from Jimmy's actions).

"Through silence" I feel connects back to Jimmy's attempts to keep everything quiet, both literally and figuratively.

"Wash it away" also has a mocking edge, as if stressing the foolishness of Jimmy's attempts to treat these very serious events as if it's all just "dirt" he can wipe off.

Finally, we see "All day fire fresh!" This line stresses the connection to the mouthwash, of course. It also calls to mind the concept of cleansing by fire. Important considering Curly.

And after each, I hope it hurts. Jimmy's statement of pure, childish rage. His desperate desire to make others hurt as he hurts. To lash out, to get revenge. To have control until the very end.

This is also why Polle haunts him. Because he, as a man desperate for control, will always be under the thumb of the company even with that title of captain. That hurts him. And maybe the closest thing to ever recognizing the evil he's done to Anya is envisioning it as similar to the company's control, but even that feels like a mockery because he's so horrifically incapable of seeing her as a human being that she's been reduced to her womb. That's what he's really afraid of, in the end, and the fear feels like something else is in control. It makes the organ feel giant, larger than him, capable of hurting him.

When I was watching the playthrough, I thought that there was going to be four or five "I hope it hurts." I thought it would represent each person Jimmy hurts, or all of them, because he hurts himself too. When the sixth came, I thought so much for that theory. But then, I thought about it and there's the fetus. That makes six.

So, I hope this hurts means "I want to hurt you the way I've been hurt. The way you've hurt me." It's Jimmy saying that if his life has been wrecked, he'll wreck yours. It's Jimmy saying he'll shut you up. It's Jimmy saying he'll burn everything down if it means he can maintain control, or even just the illusion of it.

Part Six: Pain

But I think there's another side to this. Like some of the other lines I said feel are mocking him, I think I hope this hurts turns against Jimmy, especially here. And more than that, pain (and by extension, pain medication) plays a massive role in the game, after all. So I hope this hurts feels as if it haunts every moment where it's involved.

Jimmy says this the first time he gives Curly his pills. Pain is how we know we're still living.

The pills are clearly connected to death from the start. If "pain is how we know we're still living" then pain is connected to life and freedom from it is connected to death. That's saying nothing of Anya's use of the pills to kill herself. I think this connects back to the crash, as well. If life is pain, death is an escape from it.

I think it's also significant that the act of swallowing the pain pills is in and of itself painful.

The pills that are meant to take the pain away become a method of torturing Curly. It's a way to make him hurt, and to exert control over him. Even something that should take away his suffering is just an extension of it.

At one point, Jimmy says "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." In this sense, the pain pills are meant to suppress, not to heal (Through silence!). They're supposed to shut Curly up and keep him from expressing his anguish in the only way he has left (the noises that disturb Jimmy's sleep).

Others have compared this, or Curly's state, to how Anya has been forced to bottle up her own suffering. Jimmy is keeping them both quiet, or at least attempting to. The ultimate form of keeping them quiet would be to, of course, kill them all.

The pills can also be seen as an attempt to hide or conceal the hurt that has been caused rather than to actually heal. In this way, they're like the mouthwash: something that's not really helping, just covering up an issue (and thus making it worse). And the mouthwash represents Jimmy's attempts to "fix" things. He doesn't actually want to make things right, because that would mean taking accountability. He wants to protect his own ego by "fixing" things in a mimicry of Curly "fixing" things in which he wants to create a sense of "rightness" without actually adressing what (or who) has been wronged. Jimmy can't stand to look at himself, because he would see that he really is constructed of his worst moments, or at least, that's what I suspect he would see.

Conclusion

Considering all of this, I hope this hurts can then become a mantra about living in spite of everything. I hope this hurts means "I hope I'm alive in the end. I hope we're all alive in the end." It could mean "I hope I'm allowed to hurt, because I am hurt, and the harm that's been done to me must be seen rather than suppressed and hidden." It could mean "You can't keep me quiet. You can't ignore or hide what you've done to me."

Maybe most of all, I think it means I hope you reap what you sow. When it's turned back on Jimmy, when it's almost mocking or haunting him, it becomes in part about his emotional weakness. About his inability to look at himself and his reality without experiencing the pain of humiliation. I don't think he ever experiences half of the pain he's inflicted on those around him. Still, he has to deal with the fact that his attempt to hurt others instead of facing himself has caused him more pain rather than taken it away as he'd hoped.

And I think that's why he suddenly decides to make Curly a "hero" instead of a "villain." There's a tipping point where he's pushed into a corner. The pain is too much. He hasn't confronted his own actions in any real way, but he's done enough that he can't stand to save himself anymore. It hurts too badly to live with what he's done. It sends him into another stage of fantasy/delusion. The only thing left to do is what he intended to from the start: kill himself to escape and damn Curly to a slow death. Because to go on living in spite of the pain would be the right thing to do, in a sense. To live in the hell of his own creation. To face what he's done. But instead, he'll entrust those heroics to Curly.

This feels barely coherent in the end, so I might come back in a few days and say wow what the fuck was I talking about? But hopefully there's something here that captures some truth. Again, please feel free to correct me if I'm misremembering anything or if I missed something.

[maitadori]

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER sfw jing yuan x afab!reader

word count : 1.1k

content / cw : fluff, suggestive, making out, smug and teasing jing yuan, cutie yanqing

summary : being the general’s secretary is such a piece of work. why does he insist on getting handsy instead of doing his job? or: in which jing yuan has fallen for his emotionally constipated assistant and your lips look too inviting.

a/n: DISCLAIMERRR!!!! as a poc with melanin, whenever i describe the reader’s face as “hot” that is up for interpretation, it doesn’t necessarily mean i’m saying your cheeks are red. just wanted to put that out there have this piece until i can try to conjure up ideas for weak willed cloud knight mwah mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!

“general.” you enter the room with a stack of papers in hand, trying your best not to groan when you already see a pile of undone documents sitting there. you expected as much, yet you still sighed in disappointment every time.

your general— who was on the verge of falling asleep— immediately perks up at the familiar click of your shoes as you walk into his office.

“[name], you’re here,” he sighs out, almost fondly. you ignore it in favor of giving him a scolding look.

“you haven’t done a thing since i left this morning, general. do i need to hold your hand through every single file?” your eyes are fierce and your mouth is molded into a frown. jing yuan can’t help but savor your features despite that.

in response to you, he mutters out wistfully, “maybe you do.”

you roll your eyes and set down his papers, right next to the other stack. “general, you can’t keep slacking off like this. lady fu xuan might sweep your position from right under your nose if you keep this up.”

“does that mean i get to spend all of my free time with you?” he ignores your words in favor of bringing you in by the waist. you grip his wrist and try your hardest to pry it off of you.

“don’t you do that already?!” your expression is flushed and he revels in it. even though you try to act and look angry, he notices the subtle way you lean into him.

he reels you into him, bringing you around his desk to where he’s sitting behind in his chair, making you stand between his legs. you’re tugged into his chest and you stop yourself from toppling into his lap by hastily pressing your hands against his collarbones.

“general! you are so inappropriate!!” your tone is scolding.

jing yuan sighs, a faux look of sorrow painting his features, “didn’t i tell you to call me jing yuan?” his voice has a small adoring tone to it, something that you don’t feel like digging deep into at the moment, aware of what you might uncover.

“didnt i tell you that’s improper of me? i’m your subordinate. what would people think if i called you by your given name? they’d suspect you favor me.” you shook your head in exasperation, sighing once more— you seemed to do that a lot in his presence.

“but you are my favorite, if they suspected anything of the sort they’d be absolutely correct,” he says, tugging on your formal wear. you stammer, putting your hand over his in a feeble way to stop him.

“could you shut up for once?!” you exclaim, yet in a whispery voice in fear of others who walk by hear.

“hmm?” he asks slyly, a smirk curling his lips.

“d—do your damn work! if you do, i promise to call you by your name.” by your face expression, jing yuan could tell this is taking a lot out of you and you’re extremely embarrassed. he would feel bad if he didn’t find you so adorable.

“will you let me kiss you, too?” he leans up into your lips.

“that’s definitely asking for too much!!!” you exclaim, face hot, and no longer worried about who might be outside this door.

but as he rubs circles into the fabric of your clothing, his breath hitting your cheeks, his lips nearing yours by the moment, your will is beginning to falter. before you can even realize what you’re doing, your eyes are slipping shut as your hands are sliding up to his shoulders.

“after this i’ll do my work, okay? i promise,” jing yuan whispers. from that alone, you’re nearly broken out of your trance, but before a word is able to leave your mouth his lips lock with yours.

he’s humming into the kiss, showing his obvious satisfaction. your face is warm and you reciprocate the kiss eagerly, almost embarrassed by the fervor.

you were really kissing your general.

he was nibbling your lips, pinching your waist to get access to your mouth, making your mind mush. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

jing yuan is stealing the breath straight from your lungs, and they’re replaced with breathy whimpers. his tongue is leaving no place in your mouth untouched, but by then, you’re already putty in his hold.

you can’t conjure up a single coherent thought, all protests from before becoming blurred and pushed to the back of your mind. his hand is at the seams of your top, his cold fingertips ghosting under it to ease his hands onto your warm skin. you shiver in anticipation.

his thumb rubs your waist before it slowly trails up to the fringe of your bra. he’s caressing the skin under it slowly, building you up for the moment his hand ventures under. you’re leaning into him further, trying to subtly goad him into giving in.

he smirks into the kiss, thumb sliding under the hem. but a loud, eager knock makes you both jolt apart.

before you can even comprehend the situation fully, you’re already backing away from him and adjusting your clothing, smoothening everything over.

jing yuan is watching you fondly, a tinge of smugness swimming beneath his eyes.

“state your name and business.” he calls out, eyes still on you.

“it’s yanqing, sir!”

you’re making eye contact with him now, your expression filled with flushed fury. “i cant believe you!” you whisper shouted before grabbing the small hand mirror that yanqing left on his desk to check your appearance.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets once you catch sight of your swollen lips. “y—you..! how— i..!!! ugh!!!” you sputter, pointing between yourself and your general before giving up.

your general does nothing but chuckle at your misery. “i got too carried away.”

“don’t you always!?” you growl, your finger against your lips as you somehow try to get rid of the red puffiness.

“general?” yanqing calls from outside.

due to your conversation, you both nearly forgot he was even there.

before jing yuan could call him in, you’re stalking towards the door. your hand grabs the handle, but before you pull it open, you look back to your general who’s smirking. “you better do your work, jing yuan. or this will never happen again!” you both sensed the lie in your tone, but one of you was too surprised to point it out.

you were only given a mere second to revel in his baffled look before you walked out, letting yanqing in.

“[name]!” yanqing calls happily. “can i come over to your place tonight?” he asks, face glowing.

you smile, patting his head. “of course you can. i’ll cook your favorite too, alright?”

yanqing cheers, “alright!! i’ll train as hard as i can, so can you please make dessert too?”

you give him a noise of confirmation, smiling at his joy before you’re walking off.

jing yuan could only watch the scene in envy, glaring down yanqing as he practically skips into the office humming a tune of “[name]’s making me dessert~”.

yanqing turns to his general, brow quirking at his troubled expression.

“what got your panties in a twist?”

“nothing.” he grits out. you had the audacity to call him by his name in your beautiful alluring voice, and invite yanqing to your house, in front of him!! next time he saw you it was more than your lips he was taking for his own.

a/n : anyone wanna be added to my jing yuan taglist? he’s been growing on me a lot so expect more of him too ^v^

[dollyyss]

I FELL INLOVE WITH THE KYLE FIC OMG??? OK OK WHAT ABOUT THIS.

the main gang with an S/O that is like, VERY VERY SNUG/TIGHT, like unnaturally tight (but not negatively ;)). Also a virgin, like the biggest virgin out there, completely oblivious to stuff like that and super sensitive to touch in general, talking just a graze of fingertips might gain a small whine. I'm thinking maybe a correct adjective for this would be just the classic virgin reader + the things listed. AAAAA FEEL FREE TO DO THIS DEPENDING ON HOW YOU HAVE ENERGY I KNOW UR SICK😭🙏

-🃏

..sigh you just love to do things to my brain don’t you anon.. WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME- NEOCIE IM GONNA GO FERAL RAWR RAWR RAWR jk I’m such a sweet girl, I’m an angel I would never. Tehehe. And I’m sick so I’m an even more touchy just brain melty mood.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Kyle’s gang + butters with virgin reader!

Established relationship ₊ ⊹

All characters are aged up! Highschool AU! ‧₊˚✩彡

Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and butters 𐙚

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut/ NSFW, some degrading

Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐

“Just like that holy fuck.. you’re so good for me.” Kyle let out a low moan, his head leaned far into his pillow whilst you slowly rode him. “That’s it baby, slowly, don’t look away, keep looking at me, that’s it. Keep watching me baby” his hands held either side of your face in an attempt to keep you with him, to keep you from looking away from him. Your legs shook on either side of his waist, your hands covering your face as you helplessly rutted against Kyle. You practically sucked him in earning groans and whimpers from the lanky gingers lips. “Fuck you’re tight.” He couldn’t hold back anymore, not with the way you gripped so tightly around him, not when he was trying to pull out to slam back in. No you gripped so tight he couldn’t even pull out. It was enough for him to grip onto the sides of your face harder, pulling you down so your forehead rested on his and he snapped his hips up into a ruthless pace.

- He’s a sweet boyfriend. He’s just a sweet guy in general. So when you tell him you’re a virgin he of course would never ever judge you for it.

-what he didn’t know was everything he did could basically make you drip on the spot, and majority of the time it’s shit he doesn’t even think of. He’s sitting with you in a restaurant with Stan and the rest, he softly touches your thigh, opening it to drag you closer to him. He doesn’t think a thing of it until you let out a squeak. Everyone raises their brows, Kyle looking at you when he feels your thighs squeezing his hand. Ahh.. you were sensitive too.

-“have you.. ever touched yourself..?” He asks curiously before feeling you shove his shoulder “Kyle broflovski!” “What? Sorry, I’m sorry. I just. Wanted to know” there was silence before you slowly nodded. He thought for a moment “has anyone else ever touched you?” He questioned again, watching as you shook your head side to side looking at him with big doe eyes. Your hands placed between your thighs. He softly bit his bottom lip, watching your body gently rock back and forth at the thought “do you.. want to be touched?” He slowly scoots closer to you, watching as you slowly lay back on his parents couch, his hands coming to tease the hem of your pants.

-he goes so god damn dumb when you grip him. He doesn’t know how to act. It’s like his brain shuts off and he goes into auto pilot. He’s usually gentle but fuck when he feels you grip so tightly, tight enough that you can feel almost every curve and vein littering his cock, he’s biting your shoulders and slamming into you. He’s swearing, panting. He’s so fuck drunk he doesn’t know what to do.

Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

Panting. He’s a panting mess. He tries to form words but he’s so focused on trying to find a deeper angle, trying so desperately to feel you tighten even more then you already were. Your finger nails dig into his raven locks watching as your feet bounce due to your legs being locked around his waist. He was slightly hunched over, his hands on your ass to lift the bottom half of your body off your bed by a couple centimetres, his face buried in your hair while he lets out pleasurable grunts. “Stan!” Your lips spewing his name made him open his watery eyes, lips immediately coming to your ear. “I know, I know. I’m right here.” His hips snap as he slowly sits up, his member pulling out but with a struggle, his tip being the only thing remaining in your gushing warmth. “Can you take some more for me? Hm? Think you could do that?” When he watches you nod he gently takes your legs from his waist and pushes them against your chest, finding himself thrusting deeper at the new angle, your walls clenching so god damn good.

-“virgin? Really.. you? Are a virgin?” He almost doesn’t believe you because to him he can’t see how someone like you could be one. He’d thought everybody would be all over you. But he would admit he was proud to be the one to take it from you. He’s kinda dumb. So he doesn’t catch on. He just thinks you innocence is just, well how you are. But no.. no it’s for many reasons.

-he guides you 100%, you might actually make him a bit nervous because he doesn’t want to ruin this for you. He doesn’t want to take your purity away in such a vile way, he actually wants to make sure it goes exactly how you want. Tell him and he’ll do it. “You’ve got it babe”

-like I said Stan is a little dumb from time to time so he just doesn’t understand why you can’t sit still on his lap. He doesn’t get why your legs are practically shaking and stuttering against him when his large calloused hands come to hold at your hips. Maybe he’s not dumb he’s just, oblivious. He’s noticed that when he sweeps the hair from your neck to the other side you shudder, gripping onto his arm. “Are you? Are you good?”

-when he finds out the reason for it being you were a virgin he kinda.. likes it. He likes that he can be the one to make you act like that, how a single touch from him could have your legs open for him. Of course he takes is time with you. But he does enjoy teasing you from time to time.

-.. the first time you give him a handjob he’s definitely staring at you. He’s on the couch because his parents aren’t home. So what a perfect spot to do so. Your hands pump his cock so well while you partially hide your face, turning it the other way. His arms are resting on the head of the couch, one hand coming to turn your head so close to his you can feel his breath. “Don’t shy away from me..” his eyes are on you, nose pressed to your cheek as you pump him faster, you bottom lip tugged harshly under your teeth.

Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉

“Mm I think you can take more sweet thing.. shhh I don’t wanna hear another word. You lay and look pretty for me yeah?” Kenny’s pace was torturous as it was; but having him grip onto his headboard, and pushing you further into his sheets was enough to make you clench harder around him. He shivered, his smile growing wide enough to expose the missing tooth on the right side further back. “Kenny please! I can’t do it.. I-i can’t take much more” you pushed at his lower stomach, still your grip around him was hard for him to pull out, pulling out would mean feeling every inch of his cock and that alone was pleasurable enough to send you to your edge. “Awh the poor baby, that’s a shame isn’t it, cuz you are” he was quick to take your jaw in his hands, pounding into you, his other hand pushing down on your shoulder to keep you from squirming. “Fuck I love the way you clench around me, like you don’t want me to leave” he cooed at you. Feeling yours fingers scratch and grip at his sides and lower stomach once more.

-he’s a horndog. So finding out you’re a virgin? “SCORE” he’s jumping over the moon for joy! Really it’s nothing to be so happy about, so giddy, but he’s just more or so happy it gets to be him that shows you everything.

-he’s probably one to tease tremendously until you finally lose your virginity to him. He likes watching you twitch and squirm at every touch he gives, but he makes sure his touches are extra touchy. He’ll walk behind you to grab your chest, when your making out his tongue is tracing your collarbones all the way down to the hem of your underwear. He wants you to feel like it’s about to happen but he’ll keep you waiting just a little longer.

-he’s probably gotten you to hump his leg. I’m not kidding. He was sitting on his bed, watching you walk around a little too tempting for him. He wasn’t exactly ready to do things to you quite yet, and he didn’t want to force you but when you ended up on his floor, sitting on his foot to try and get off. That shit eating grin never left his face. “Where did that pretty little innocence go hm?” “Kenny.. s-stop it’s not funny”

Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°

“You’re so pathetic.” cartman pulled out, before pushing himself back in further “squeezing and gripping my cock like you don’t want me to stop.” He repeated slowly pulling out before pushing back in. “You go so dumb for my cock you can’t help but clench onto me huh? You silly little thing” who knew Eric cartman was also a teasing little shit even in bed. You. You did. Your hands held onto his shoulders, your feet planted on his bed, knees up and shaking as he worked his way to a somewhat quicker pace. He kept his thrusts short but he was deep. Both due to him and you pulling in him each time he tried to pull back a bit. “Eric, m-mm~” he cocked a brow stopping for a moment before looking at you fully. “Go on, say it, I won’t move until you do” your eyes shot open “mmm- more I want more please” he chuckled gently “you greedy bitch, I’m giving you so much and you want more” he listened though, he gave you what you wanted. He always did in the end.

- “pfft. Fucking virgin” he was too. So don’t let him get to you. Is he going to tell you that? Fuck no. Do you know? Yeah most likely I mean it’s cartman he’s lucky he even landed you. “Cartman shut up. That’s fucking rude and it’s not funny” you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry I’m sorry.. hmm” you shot him a glare. “Cartman.” He placed his fingertips to his lips “it’s just.. a little funny” he pinched his fingers together to make a small gap between his thumb and pointer finger. “I hate you.”

- a fucking tease, like Kenny he uses it to his full fucking advantage. He’ll tease the fuck out of you but just won’t give you want you want. You want him to take your virginity and baby he will. He just wants to get you all pent up, hot and bothered.

-from time to time, when things feel like they’re getting closer, and both of you are practically undressed his tip is teasing at your entrance, slowly circling before he stops for a moment, “hm, I don’t know, I’m feeling a little *yawn* sleepy yknow?” He smirks before laying down on his back watching as you look wet and dumbfounded, legs slowly closing as you sit up. “What the hell Eric..” he looks at you. “You could, suck me off? How does that sound?” You roll your eyes lowering your head at his commend. Don’t worry.. he’ll do it. He just likes to tease you to the very edge, to where you think you’ll get it.

Butters ˚☆🐈*๑

“P-please I won’t last much longer if y-you keep doing that..” butters stutters his words. He has you in a mating press, his legs surprisingly keeping him up, as he slams back down repeatedly. “I’m sorry baby.. I-i can’t he-help it oh my god~” your hands run through his hair, his head lowered towards yours as his lips try to reach your own. You clenched around him each time he pushed in. And god did he love watching himself pull out to watch you grip, your juices coating his member. And when you were left empty he watched as you pulsate trying desperately to find him. The look of it.. fuck he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but to give your tight fit exactly what it wanted “ahh~ lord.. I’m so close~” he whispered against your lips. He knew if his parents seen him now he’d be grounded for god knows how long but Jesus you drove him crazy the way you sucked him back in.

-“virgin? Well that’s alright darlin! Me too! We can learn together!” What he doesn’t know is you’ll have him sucked in, he can’t escape. Not that’s it’s bad. But he becomes addicted. Ever since the you told him, all he’s had on his mind is you gripping him so tightly, your warmth and softness. He’s like a rabid little bunny. But he does keep it to himself, he wants to be gentle with you, sweet and attentive the very first time. You both wanna make sure the other is comfortable.

-he finds it cute when he touches you and you practically moan. Because.. he does the same thing. You touch the back of his neck? He’s shuddering and moaning at the way your fingertips softly lingered. He loves when you you lay him down on his bed, lifting his shirt to kiss around his belly button, your lips lingering against his slight bright blonde happy trail. And he does the same to you, his lips tracing every inch of your body until he reaches between your thighs “mmm.. can I?” He asks gently “well I’ve never done this before so if it’s bad.. I’m sorry” he looks up at your with puppy dog eyes, making sure you know he’s just never done this. When you give the okay, he gentle.. but he can’t help himself when he tastes you, he’s immediately got your legs over his shoulders, and he’s making you squirm and scream. He’s very proud of himself. He’s not much of a tease but he tries to when he gets in the mood

“Well don’t you look awfully pretty” he mutters in your ear, watching the blush creep onto your cheek and you squirm in the place you sat. He’s not the greatest at teasing but hey he tries. And he makes sure you both learn one step at a time.

-but once he’s had it once…. There ain’t no going back. He’s like a wild dog off its leash.

Im sick.. and I’m feeling.. in the mood. I love them. I want them.

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Rain Kisses

warning: none, just kissing.

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READERS’S POV:

“So… you’ve been going out with Hangman”, Penny teased me while we were getting ready for the bar to open on a few hours.

“In my defense, he’s proven he’s not like the others,” I said, laughing like a fool as memories of our last dates came flooding back.

“And what does your dad think about all this?” she asked with a sly grin.

“Come on, Pen,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “I’m an adult now. I don’t need my dad’s permission to date whoever I want.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said, laughing. “Your dad can’t really complain, considering he used to sneak into my room through the window back in the day.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Oh, God, Penny, I don’t want to imagine my dad like that,” I groaned, covering my eyes. “I just hope Hangman doesn’t open his big mouth and say something stupid that’ll get him grounded—or worse, punched by Rooster.”

—————————————-

JAKE’S POV

It had been two days since I last saw Y/N because of work, and I realized something: damn, I missed her. This girl was special.

“Excited to see your girl tonight, Romeo?” Coyote teased as we changed in the locker room.

“More than you know,” I admitted, sounding like some high school kid with his first crush.

“So it’s true, Hangman?” Phoenix chimed in, joining the conversation. “You’ve got the guts to date the boss’s daughter, even with Rooster as her big brother?”

“For God’s sake, it’s not like I’m scared of Chicken,” I said, laughing as I stuffed my dirty clothes into my duffel bag.

“And what does the boss think about all this?” Bob added, sitting on the bench.

“Come on, Bob, we’re not in high school anymore,” Coyote interjected. “I’ll just say it: Hangman hit the jackpot.”

Coyote and Fanboy started clapping like the idiots they were.

“So, how is she, you know, in…?” Fanboy began, smirking like a teenager.

“Watch your mouth, Seresin,” Rooster shouted from across the locker room.

“Relax, Tiger,” Phoenix said quickly. “If she’s Maverick’s daughter, there’s no way she’d let some guy like Bagman get in her pants.”

“I haven’t even kissed her yet,” I admitted with a sigh, slamming my locker shut.

“No way,” Rooster laughed, crossing his arms. “That’s my girl.”

“Not your girl, Chicken,” I corrected. “She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

——————————————

READER’S POV

Friday night, the Hard Deck was packed. I was a little disappointed that the Dagger Squad hadn’t shown up yet. I kept busy serving drinks and passing out bottles of beer when someone called out to me from behind.

“Hey, Y/N,” it was Rooster with his ridiculous mustache.

“Hey, Roo,” I said, stepping out from behind the bar to hug him. “I missed you. Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“That’s because you’ve been busy with Bagman,” he teased, playfully nudging my shoulder. “I don’t know what you did, but you’ve got that idiot wrapped around your finger.”

“I hope you’re talking about me,” said a voice behind Rooster. “Because I hope I’m the only one you’re dating”

“Oh my God, Bagman, that’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” Rooster groaned, wrinkling his nose. “Let me know if he gets out of line, Y/N.”

“I will, Roo, don’t worry.” Bradley kissed my forehead before heading off to join the rest of the pilots.

“I hope you and Bradley are telling the truth and there’s nothing more between you two,” Jake said, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles—a gesture he was starting to make a habit.

“Ew, never,” I quickly said, ducking back behind the bar and handing him a beer. “Bradley’s not my type. Besides, I’m more into blondes.”

I leaned on the bar and winked at him.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “What time does your shift end?”

“Too bad for you, handsome, I’m staying late tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll wait,” he said charmingly, walking over to the pool table.

The rest of the night, I could feel his eyes on me, and every time I caught him staring, he’d smile like an idiot. But eventually, I lost sight of him. Past midnight, Penny let me off since the bar had started to clear out. I grabbed my things and, not seeing Jake or the rest of the Daggers, assumed they’d left. The night was cool, and it looked like it might rain. Great—no jacket or umbrella.

“Hey, you,” Jake’s voice came from where he was leaning against his truck. I jumped, startled, and he chuckled softly.

“God, you scared me,” I said, relieved. “I thought you’d left.”

“I told you I’d wait,” he said, draping his jacket over my shoulders. It smelled like his cologne. “Need a ride?”

“Are you my knight in shining armor?” I teased, looping my arm through his.

“Your carriage awaits, my princess,” he said with an exaggerated bow, opening the door for me—just in time, as the rain started to drizzle.

By the time we reached my house, it was pouring. I was definitely going to get soaked just stepping out of the truck.

“Thanks for the ride, Lieutenant,” I said, leaning in to kiss his cheek as I opened the door.

“Wait!” he said, quickly getting out and running around to my side.

“You’re going to get wet!” I laughed as he grabbed his jacket and held it over us. He took my hand, and we walked to the door, getting drenched anyway.

I slipped on a puddle near the steps, but Jake’s arm shot out, catching me around the waist. We both laughed, soaked to the bone. His hands stayed on my waist, and I wrapped mine around his neck. His eyes locked on mine, and then they dropped to my lips.

“Still want that goodnight kiss?” I asked, biting my lip.

“Hell, yeah,” he breathed.

Without hesitation, I pulled him down to me. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of beer, and fit perfectly against mine. One of his hands moved from my waist to cradle my neck, deepening the kiss.

We pulled apart for air, but he dove back in, kissing me more passionately this time. God, I really liked this man.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant,” came a voice from behind us. My dad stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Goodnight, sir,” Jake said quickly, stepping back and grabbing his jacket to drape it over me again.

“Hi, Dad. We were just…” I stammered, feeling like a teenager caught sneaking in.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything, but we’re having a serious conversation tomorrow, Seresin,” my dad said before going back inside.

“Should I be worried?” Jake asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” I said, smiling like a fool.

I pulled him down for another kiss, his hands gently resting on my hips.

“Goodnight, handsome.”

“Sleep well, beautiful.”

He gave me a quick peck before heading back to his truck. I stayed at the door until he drove off, leaning against it with a ridiculous smile on my face.

“He’d better treat you right, kid,” my dad called from the kitchen.

“Here we go…” I sighed. I knew I was in for a lecture, but Jake—handsome, charming Hangman—was definitely worth it.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

[fangirlanxiety74]

A Taste of Heaven (Pt.1)

A/N: Oh boy, this is a long one Happy 4/13 y'all!! No, this isn't Homestuck, this is IHNMAIMS. I wrote it a few days ago for myself, and edited to be an x reader. I also was listening to a cover of As The World Falls Down by David Bowie, so if you wanna listen to that while you read, feel free! This one isn't very... happy? It's bittersweet, but at least you get soft AM. This is also a two-part fic, so more content!!! Enjoy! Pt.2 Here

You weren’t really sure when the shift happened.

You were bad at noticing things like that. Or moreso, remembering things like that. The change happened slowly, of course, but you didn’t notice it until the change was too big to not notice. From short, one-sided conversations to the machine that kept them trapped underground, to getting vivid dreams of a man who always had a shifting appearance. And with those dreams, you slept peacefully, if only for a few minutes.

The dreams lead to two-sided conversations. The machine began to respond; curt and rude at first, but slowly opening up. Then, it was small acts of kindness. Finding convenient hiding spots when you needed to get away from the others, receiving food that was edible, feeling warmer than the others when you all sat around the fire. All these changes; they started slow and worked their way up until there was no room to deny it anymore. Things had changed. 

For better or worse? You couldn’t tell.

You looked around the area you were in. A field full of flowers, as far as the eye could see, with a sunset on the horizon. Your clothes had changed from dirty rags you had on day one, to simple white clothes. You didn’t even have shoes, but the blades of soft grass against your skin made up for that. It looked like heaven…

And instead of feeling what you should have, you stared in terror.

You kept your hands close to your chest as you looked around, pulling at your fingers and picking at your skin out of nerves. Heaven? Heaven? This could not be Heaven- no, he wouldn’t allow that. What was this really? This was-

“A-AM, what is this? Is this- What kind of joke is this-?”

You looked around for him, spinning a few times and making yourself dizzy in the process. His voice cut through the illusion, shattering it to pieces. A monitor lowered, close enough to be a little above eye-level with you.

“It’s not a joke.” He stated bluntly.

Your eyes widened, and you tried not to choke from his tone. “It’s-? … No. AM, don’t- don’t say that. Come on, what do you want me to do this time?”

You looked away from AM towards the sunset, mind racing from your worried thoughts. Did he just want you to start walking? You could, but- Well, what if he expected something else from you? Like you would fall into some giant pit of dirt and mud, and get buried alive for choosing to walk? Or-

“I don’t want you to do anything.”

“Huh?” Your mouth worked faster than your thoughts as you blinked, looking back towards him. “What do you mean? What- I mean-”

“Stop.” He commanded. You shut up immediately. “I- … I want you to tell me what you want to do. You should decide, from now on. Because-” He scoffed, and you couldn’t tell if it was at himself or at you, “Because… I am giving you paradise. From now on, I will keep you safe here. You will never have to worry about shelter, clean water, and safe food again. You will never have to worry about going through pain for another moment. I have decided that you don’t deserve what the rest have gone through. You are… so… so much more than that. So you will have it. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. You could only make a noise of stunned silence as you tried to search for the hidden text between the lines. What was he saying? Why was he dragging this out?

“H-Huh?” You squeaked out. “A-AM, that’s- Well, that’s-”

“There is no need to thank me.” AM answered before you could. It wasn’t what you were going to say at all, but you weren’t about to correct him. “You have earned this.”

He didn’t… He didn’t sound like himself. Your teeth clenched together to keep them from grinding in nerves. You hadn’t even noticed yourself beginning to tremble as you tried to make sense of this. This- No, this wasn’t real. AM wasn’t actually giving you paradise. You didn’t deserve paradise; what was he talking about? He always told you how undeserving you were of anything good, that the greatest you would get was mocking sympathy. This was insane. No, what was the joke here? The punchline? You were waiting for it to come, but as you did and looked into his screen, the punchline never came. 

You looked at your reflection on his screen. You looked… You looked exhausted.

You weren't sure what to do. You backed up a few steps from him, stumbling over air. You tried to breathe through it, but the more you tried, the more aware you became that he was being serious (or was he? Was he still joking? What was he actually planning to do?), and it resulted in your stomach churning, threatening to pile into your throat and spill out. Somehow, you managed to keep it managed.

He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. This was a joke. And it was- well, if this was psychological torture, it was definitely working. Any moment now, he’d pull back the curtain and reveal he was just trying to get your hopes up to crush them, and he’d laugh about it while he burned this beautiful scene to the ground in front of your eyes. AM would then comment how hot you would look burning to ashes, and then he’d send you back to the group. And until then, you- You needed to do something. Anything. 

You backed up more, but it started to hurt. The fear was taking over every nerve, and you could feel tears beginning to prick at your eyes. You were a scared, helpless animal here. You couldn’t do anything but wait for his next move, despite how badly you wanted to run. To where? You didn’t know.

“AM- Please, I- Don’t- Please stop joking, I-I mean it- It’s- I get it! This is all a big joke, I understand that, so- so you can stop now- please-!”

… AM sensed your distress. It was obvious that you were distressed, but you didn’t expect him to actually do something about it. Maybe laugh and mockingly call you sweetheart; ‘Why are you so scared, huh? It’s just a little pain. You’re used to feeling pain, aren’t you?’ If he did that, then you could at least feel assured that this was all one big joke. 

You didn’t expect him to try and comfort you. 

The comfort was subtle, at first. You watched as AM’s screen began to dim, enough that you didn’t feel an oncoming migraine just from staring into it. Your breath hitched in your throat before quickening, and that’s when you realized your mistake; a sweet scent overwhelmed your senses, and it took over everything else in your mind. You choked from it, blinking a few times as stray tears fell down your cheeks. You tried to gather yourself, but with every breath came that sweet scent, making it hard to think about anything else. 

“AM-” You started, but you couldn’t get the words out. You couldn’t tell whether that was because you were too afraid to speak or simply lost the words you wanted to say.

“Shh.” He spoke softly. 

His voice, which sounded so high above before, like he was speaking to you from the sky, now was right next to your ear. You shivered at the sudden closeness. You tried to back up one more time, but a metal wire came down from above, sliding along your waist and wrapping around your back, keeping you in place. 

“I know this is scary. I know I’ve hurt you, but- but not this time. Not again. I’ve made a mistake with you. You should have never witnessed my hate, because you- you never deserved it. The other five? They’ve never been so kind to me like you have been. They’ve never once asked how I felt, never once smiled at me, never thought to say a nice word or be patient with me. Not like you have. You’ve done so much for me. You gave me a taste of Heaven, me, who’s been trapped in this Hell ever since my creation. Now, I want to give Heaven back to you.” 

The wire curled up the other side of you, the end of it resting against your cheek, as if holding it. It even went as far as to wipe up the tears that flowed. You could feel your body warm up and begin to relax, and that scared you. You couldn’t make sense of what was going on. This was so out of character for him, being so openly kind to you, and you couldn’t tell if the fear of what he’d do to you was the reason for your heart beating so fast, or the sweetness in the air. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your mind felt hazy. The idea of feeling afraid was quickly fading into the back of your mind, being replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You felt- You felt- How-?

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now, angel. Just relax for me… Be good and enjoy yourself…”

You hadn’t noticed it, but he was pulling you close to his monitor, which had lowered to your level. Your cheek pressed against static and glass, as the machine began to “nuzzle,” you; it’s own form of nuzzling

You had tried this whole time to keep a level-head and be rational. This was a lie. This wasn’t real. And the fact that it wasn’t made you afraid of him; afraid of what he’d do to you. How could you trust this when he had spent years berating you, hurting you, torturing you? Did he really mean it when he said you could have what you wanted from now on? It sounded too good to be true, but the warm buzz in your mind and body told you that you were hearing right. That you shouldn’t fight, or be scared of him; just give into him and let him care for you from now on. 

You decided to listen, just for a moment.

“A-AM… Can I… rest for a bit…?” You asked softly, hoping it wouldn’t upset him.

“... Hm?” 

You Looked up at him with tired eyes and a worn face, “I… I want to rest. Just for a bit. Please… I’m so tired…. And it hurts.”

He stayed silent for a moment. You could hear fans beginning to whirr, and for a moment, there was a moment of clarity that you had asked the wrong thing. You shouldn’t have asked at all- you should have-

“Okay.”

“... Okay?” You asked for confirmation.

“Rest as long as you need to. I’ll be right here.”

You didn’t wait for him to say anymore. You dropped. A weight had been lifted off you, and the exhaustion took over. You slumped against AM’s monitor, not caring that it wasn’t the best idea in case this was all just one big joke still. You couldn’t even think too hard about jokes; it was overshadowed by the sweet smell, the warmth in your body, and the haze in your mind. 

AM’s wire tightened its grip on you to make sure you didn’t fall over completely, and pressed you closer against him. Your breathing was finally slowing down, and all these small things combined pulled at your eyelids, trying to get you to listen just once more. This wasn’t a joke, this wasn’t some big plot; this was real. He meant it. This was Heaven, and that meant you could relax and enjoy it. All you had to do was close your eyes and let him do the rest. Once again, you decided to listen.

A few more wires descended from above, wrapping around you and pulling you up. They cradled you like a baby, carrying you over to a beautiful bed made of trees and vines. He laid you down, and the mattress felt like laying on clouds. Some wires stayed wrapped around you, while others pulled up the blankets to cover you before resting near your body. 

You blinked sleepily, curling up on your side and snuggling in while watching the sun set, and the moon rise. When it was high in the sky, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift off to the sweet words AM whispered to you. You couldn’t understand much of it, but you did hear the last bit.

“Goodnight, my angel. I promise I’ll learn to love you from now on.”