#shit just doesn’t fuckin resolve

[bingusbongusminghiskinghis]

Dang I look fucking horrific holy shit

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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[rainrot4me]

Clean Knife, Bloody Blade

Summary: When you refuse to get out of bed due to terrible cramps, Jeff tries his best to coax you back. But when you cry and whine to him, the killer presses to resolve your problem, willing to do whatever he can to help…

Characters: Jeff the Killer x Menstruating Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Menstruation, period sex, vaginal with a dildo, toy play, vaginal, mentions of organs, blood, desperation, blood kink, teasing

Words: 3.2k

Jeff was terrible at showing affection.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, you knew he did, but to others, they could’ve never guessed. He was always upset, always brooding about something minuscule that would give him an excuse to snap and shrug others off. He was terrible company. But with you, even though subtle, he was calmer and had his head more on his shoulders than normal if you were around.

A calloused hand grasped around your wrist or a half-assed peck on the cheek indicated his affection. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like he was annoyed or had no desire to love you at all, but you knew that this was him trying his hardest to show his feelings. Even though the lack of cuddles and soft compliments itched at you sometimes, Jeff more than made up for it with the bloody carcass of some guy who catcalled you lying on your doorstep or the new pistol he had swiped for you on a mission. Jeff loved you in his own way, and you were more than grateful that he even tried at all, despite what others said.

Jeff always tried his hardest for you, tried more than he cared to for anyone else. And that stood true even now, as you laid in the bed squirming your pain and groaning into his pillows. Jeff was practically clueless. He knew what was happening and that it was nature, but it didn’t make it more comfortable to fuss with you over how dramatic you were being. Or to watch you sob and moan about some blood. Jeff dealt with blood every day, he just didn’t get the theatrics.

Until you began to cry, gripping your stomach as you wore his hoodie and sobbed into his pillow, whining your little heart out. The pale killer was stunned, awkward even as he tried to console you, trying to brush the tears from your eyes. “Just go get Jack. Tell ‘em to get me something.” You whined, rolling over and tugging the covers higher onto your shoulder. 

Jeff cringed, scurrying out of his room and down the hall, shooting for EJ’s lab in the hopes that he would have a better chance at getting you to stop than he could. Normally, Jeff would’ve been annoyed, pissed that you preferred to see some other guy than him, but right now he just wanted you better.

-

“And what does she want me to do about it?” Jack groaned, shuffling through some forceps and scalpels to neatly cut open the human stomach he was working on, trying to push the leftovers of the victim’s last meal out before nibbling on a strip of the raw meat. Jeff cringed, groaning at the way it popped as it tore, squishy in the demon’s mouth. “I don’t fuckin’ know? Just figured you’d be better at this than me. All medical and shit…” The killer scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, chewing at the tear on his lip. He hated compliments, hated trying to butter someone up, but he sucked it up. 

Jack chuckled, pulling his mask back down over his chin before moving, shuffling through a cabinet nestled above his messy desk. There were all sorts of pills inside, little orange and green translucent bottles that read ‘Wright’ and scribbled doctor’s signatures. How someone was giving Jack all of this medicine Jeff didn’t care to ask, he only noticed when Jack pulled down some painkiller in a white bottle, little pink tablets falling out. 

“Ibuprofen. Give ‘er like three. Maybe some food too, bad to cramp on an empty stomach.” The commands were giving Jeff whiplash, shoving the bottle into his pocket and staring as Jack circled back to his unfinished plate. “If that doesn’t work, try telling her to masturbate.” 

Jeff almost ran into the wall on his way out. What in the actual hell? Jeff tried to laugh as he turned, thinking Jack was joking but his expression was unwavering, gnawing on the tendon of a stomach valve as he smiled. Jeff couldn’t even be mad, stunned more than anything as he let his face show his confusion, letting his mouth hang open. “It’s true. Lulu told me one time. Helps with muscle tension or something. I read up on it a bit but wasn’t relevant to me, so I didn’t care. Guess it’s useful now.” Jack smiled, turning back to his plate and shooing Jeff out, shutting the door behind him as Jeff’s eyes remained wide and stunned, finally clenching his teeth and stomping up the stairs. 

You took the pills easily, letting Jeff convince you to eat a muffin before laying back down, groaning as you gripped his arm, legs curled into yourself. He stared down at you, awkwardly gnawing away at the thought Jack had set in his head. Masturbating? While you were bleeding? There was no way that could be enjoyable. But as you nudged your head against his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and pawing at this shirt, Jeff groaned, rubbing your back. 

Normally you were a little live wire, a little ball of energy that combatted his anger perfectly. You were perfect for him, emotionally and physically. But seeing that little ball of excitement cripple and falter under your pain made him upset, angered that he couldn’t do anything more. He hated seeing you like this, no matter how reluctant he would be to admit it. Jeff wasn’t a sappy guy, far from it, but right now he would do anything to make his girl feel better.

He started slow, nervous that you’d be too overstimulated to even want him to touch you as he rolled you onto your back, pressing down to kiss along your cheeks. You lay confused, squirming as his hands rubbed your sides, gently gripping and soothing your hot skin. “Jeff… Quit…” You groaned as he pecked your lips, tucking your hair behind your ears as he tugged his hoodie over your head. “Chill out.” He nipped, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones and purposefully holding yours down, calming your reluctant body as he rubbed at your stomach, kissing against your jaw. Your skin was hot, clammy against his hands as he pushed your shirt up, you finally realizing what he was doing.

“Jeff.” You grit, shoving him off as you sat up, irritated that he would even try right now. Jeff awkwardly tried to explain, rubbing your arms as he settled you back onto the bed, standing up to grab a towel in his closet. “Listen. Jack gave me some advice or somethin’. Said jerking off helps with your cramps. We don’t gotta, but…” Jeff also reached for the small bag you kept in his closet, tugging it open and tugging out a dildo around his size, awkwardly shoving the bag back into the closet as you watched, cheeks already flushing. “Jeff, it's nasty.” You warned, bringing your knees to your chest and sliding back as Jeff stood at the edge of the bed, lying the items down before continuing to kiss along your face. “Baby, I cut people up. I think I’ll be okay.” He snickered, lying you back down onto his bed.

You nervously laid, squirming your legs together as Jeff pressed between your knees, standing at the end of the bed. He tugged up your hips, sliding the towel underneath you as he pressed his cool hands along your arms, trailing them up into your shirt as he nipped into your neck. You sighed, skin hot and cunt already bothered as you tried to pry your knees tight around his waist. This was going to be weird regardless, your anxiety about the whole thing shining through as Jeff tugged your shirt over your head, palming at your boobs until you were tugging his hands away. “Sensitive.” You hissed, letting his hands fall back at your hips.

He grit, tugging your shorts down and smiling as you shyly closed in on yourself, turning your face into the sheets as he hooked them off of your ankles. He could already see the blood stained onto your panties, your pad doing little against it. Personally, you wanted to die, embarrassment hooking your every whine as Jeff hooked under your panties, tugging them down and gently massaging your thighs, letting you calm down. It was messy, sure, but the killer knew what he was getting himself into. 

You refused to look at him, knees hugged tightly to his sides as he cleaned the blood staining your folds gently as your pelvis ached, cunt tingling under you as Jeff leaned in to kiss your lips, reassuring you coldly. “You’re fine. Stop movin’ so much. It’s just blood.” This was as close as he was getting to gentle, but his words soothed you all the same. You still hid in the sheets, letting Jeff clean your inner thighs as he massaged along your leg, efforts reluctant as you just leaked more. 

The sight of your cunt covered in blood didn’t particularly turn Jeff on, but it didn’t disgust him either. It was just you, that stupid personality and all-too-caring attitude that he loved, he didn’t really care what you looked like in turn. He didn’t really mind what was going on between your legs, just as long as he was one of them. 

“Open up. There ya go.” He chimed, reaching for the dildo and pressing it to your mouth, beckoning you to listen. You obliged, spreading your lips around the girth and licking along the underside, soaking the silicone in your saliva. Jeff didn’t force it, didn’t push it to make you gag like he loved to do, just let it soak. He smiled at you, nudging his thumb between your folds and pressing against your clit, letting you groan against the toy as he felt your knees loosen around his hips. You had never done anything on your period, always so grossed out and irritated to try, but you could already just feel the difference. It was so much more intense, clit so sensitive under the pad of his thumb that you were holding your eyes shut, hips falling and rising against the movement of the digit. It was heavenly, and Jeff noticed, smiling as you practically ground yourself up against him. “Feel good?” He teased, tugging the dildo out of your mouth and sliding it against your stomach, saliva wiping against your warm skin. You nodded, sighing as he pressed up, hips catching and stuttering against it. 

Jeff slid the dildo against your folds, blood catching on the tip and spreading against your inner thighs. He smiled, enjoying how easy it was to push his knee under your thigh and open you up more, movements too lost in the feeling of the dildo halted against your entrance. Jeff held his thumb still, letting the dildo that was a little smaller than his own size begin to push into your aching cunt, cramps pushing out of the way and slowly fading into pleasure as the toy pressed into you. You groaned, a desperate ache of pain and pleasure soaking in as the dildo snugged your walls, pressing against your sensitivity. It just felt so good, entrance aching around the size but the thumb swiping against your clit made up for it. 

When Jeff’s fingers gripped around the base of the dildo and touched your folds, you knew it was bottomed out, cunt clenching tight around the intrusion. “Took it good, yeah? Basically pulled it in.” Jeff laughed, tugging the dildo out before slowly rocking it back in, angling the silicone up so it pressed just right against your swollen walls. You whined, back instantly pushing off of the mattress and arching into the feeling, the slowness tearing you apart. “Oh, God-” You groaned, tugging the sheets hard as Jeff fucked you painfully slow with the toy, watching close at how your body moved with it, hips rolling at every push of his hand. He had found a new kink just now, unfortunately. 

The killer continued to fuck you with the dildo, contorting and tugging the length so it stretched you nicely, thumb effortlessly making you flinch and squirm as he watched blood slowly leak from your tight entrance, pooling beneath you. It was satisfying, really, the further he pushed the toy the more blood spilled. In Jeff’s sicko brain, it reminded him of stabbing someone, digging his knife in and watching the blood just run, smiling at the irony of it all. He pushed harder.

You were loud now, tears running down your cheeks as you gasped at every shove of the dildo, sensitivity riding on every ounce of pleasure that overwhelmed your senses. Jeff was lost, busy watching your cunt and your screwed-up face, and couldn’t hear your silent sobs to stop or slow down, him only pushing harder. “Jeff- God- Wait, I’m… I think- Ah-” You mewled, letting your cunt squeeze down hard against the toy, walls aching as you came, body squirming and writhing as Jeff still bobbed it in and out as your cunt gushed. It took you sitting up, palming at his shoulders before he would stop, barely even realizing you had came until you were sobbing into his shoulder, dildo slipping out of your soppy cunt as you palmed at his jeans, his boner beckoning you. “Not… not enough. Need it.” You whined, words so jumbled and head so light Jeff thought you were losing it, eyes going wide as he realized what you meant. You still ached, still coming down from your orgasm but walls needing more, needing that relief from the pain again.

“Shit- Ah- Okay. Shit.” Jeff jumbled, stuttering as you eventually tugged his cock out of his jeans and began to stroke, leaning back and tugging him closer. He barely even had time, barely could get hard before you were holding his hips and begging him to push in, blood and your own arousal seeping around the tip of his cock nestled between your folds. “Okay, yeah. Shit-” He couldn’t even think to get a condom, couldn’t tell himself you were probably too post-nut high to realize you were too overwhelmed, but with those big eyes staring at him and your flushed cheeks pouting, he couldn’t help but groan his arousal as he pressed in. 

It was warm. Like, warmer than normal, warm. And you were tight too. Your walls fluttered around his cock, swelling against the length that curved and nudged deeper than the dildo, head falling back into the mattress as you moaned out. Jeff cursed, fists gripping your hips tight as he sunk in, watching the blood pool around his cock and seep down onto the towel, your entrance twitching and tightening with every inch that entered. “Needy, huh? You’re so tight, God-” He grunted, straining as he bottomed out and let your hips squirm against his, already beckoning him to move. It was like you were in heat, body more focused on how fast you could cum again than if you even wanted to. It turned Jeff on terribly bad. This version of you was exciting.

Like the dildo, he let his hips rock, bending his knees to angle into your cunt better and sink against your g-spot so nicely, leaving your arms clasped into his hair and dragging him down on top of you. Your skin was so hot, flushed deep as he locked his lips onto yours, rocking his hips into your soppy cunt and relishing in the way it gushed around him. He pushed up, digging his knees into the mattress and letting your thighs wrap around his back, his cock sinking further down and into you as your body contorted under him. You were scrunched, clasping onto his body desperately as you chased another orgasm, stomach fluttering and hips rocking with every movement. “So good- Can’t… Can’t hold on- Faster-” You huffed between slobber-filled kisses, letting Jeff dig his palms into the sheets underneath you and push his knees in deeper, letting his hips pull up much further and sink down just as deep. You were practically purring, mouth hanging open as Jeff bit into your jaw, nibbling the skin as he panted against you, shoving his cock into the hot glove of your cunt. 

“Beg me to fuck you and you’re still not satisfied. Jesus, woman.” Jeffrey grit through pants, leaning back off of you and digging his hands into your waist, tugging his legs further apart to open yours more before snapping his hips into your warmth, hearing the loud squelch and squirts as you writhed, moaning into your hands. Jeff smiled, clawing his hands to your tits and palming hard, letting you scratch and whine at his grasp about sensitivity and to let off, but he refused. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed that the ache in your pelvis practically vanished, pleasure rippling through your body as you arched and squirmed against the cock quickly pressing down against every inch of your gummy walls. You were cumming again, sobbing as you scratched Jeff’s muscled arms and held on tight, letting his cock fuck you through your desperate orgasm and fight against the overstimulation that crept through your body. 

“There ya go, just like that. Don’t even gotta worry.” Jeff mewled, letting his cock sink deep and rest in your cunt, your walls clenching hard around him, fluttering as he twitched and ached inside of you, restraining to cum until your sobs quieted, little whines and gasp all that was left. “Did so good.” He grits as he tugged his cock out, the length soaked and stained in your blood and arousal, fist quick to grasp around and pump himself over you, watching as you panted with heavy eyes. The blood stained his hand, smearing as he came against your folds, letting his seed run and mix with your blood as he groaned, palming at your thighs. “Fuck.. yeah…” He smiled, rubbing his tip against your clit for good measure before tugging back, scooping the messy towel out and cleaning what he could. 

You were too sleepy to hear the bath run in the room over, body still twitching and relaxing as your cramps stayed at a dull roar now, pleasure overtaking them. Jeff scooped you up, his body bare now as he stripped the rest of your clothes, cutting the faucet off before sliding you both into the large tub, letting your back rest against his chest. You mewled, leaning back against his shoulder and letting your eyes flutter shut, rubbing the arms that wrapped around your waist. “Thank you.” You sighed, the hot water soothing your body nicely. “It was hot, so worth it.” Jeff chuckled, tucking your hair out of the way as he kissed your forehead. 

You knew he cared. He had strange ways of showing it, ever reluctant to become soft and vulnerable. But you relished the moments where he got close, like now. Maybe Jeff wasn’t the most affectionate, sappy guy to have, but it was more than enough for you. 

Even if he was terrible at showing affection, the dedication to you more than paid its part. 

This was a request by @bubbleduckie!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[tteokdoroki]

bkg jerking off over you while you sit there and look pretty🫶🏾

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. expressive.

about. bakugou never gets good at controlling how his emotions sit on his face — especially when he’s close to a well earned release.

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact! smut, vaginal sex, squirting, pulling out as a contraceptive method (don’t do this), male masturbation, cumplay, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, slight overstimulation, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

i imagine that bakugou never really gets good at controlling his facial expressions. usually, it’s super easy to tell when he’s pissed, because he has his fangs bared and his thick, dark eyebrows pinch together at the centre of his forehead. when he’s sad, he’s either unconsciously frowning or pouting — which isn’t an uncommon sight if you think about it. when he’s happy or calm, there’s a light that reflects in his ruby framed eyes to the point where they shine across a room, his soft lips upturned into a small smirk with not a trace of doubt laid across his face. 

you think, however, that katsuki is most beautiful when his body is hung over yours and he’s about to cum.

“you cummin’ baby? y’ gonna make a mess on my cock. milk your cock f’me?” you love how strained the blonde’s voice gets when he’s close, caught in the ridges of this throat and pierced by the occasional high pitched whine here and there. katsuki always makes sure that you get there before him, fumbling with your swollen clit nestled between your soaked puffy folds — using the tips of his fingers to catch whatever viscous track of juices slips out of you and around his throbbing girth before he rubs it back into the little nub. 

the air feels like it been sucked out from his lungs when your wet pussy selfishly sucks him in, clenching down on every ridge as if she doesn’t want to let go. your eyes disappear into the darkness of your skull, mouth lewdly hanging open wide enough for bakugou to spit into it. he immediately licks into your mouth afterwards, languidly rolling his hips into you with vicious wet smacks to the same tune. 

he roughs you up with spit swapping kisses, hardly giving you any room to breathe. you cry and gasp into bakugou’s open mouth, sucking on his tongue and filling him with your salacious siren’s song that only gets higher and higher with each step you take towards orgasm. he follows each movement of your mouth like he’s after the pied piper, chasing the heat of your tongue against his while his rough hands work you into a mating press — legs thrown over his shoulder and cock so deep inside you, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

his lips feel like heaven, pillowy and plush as they move with yours expertly, knowing just how to kiss you — eliciting a bright fire in your lower tummy that sets you ablaze from the inside out. squeezing around every blue, pulsating vein that twists its way around bakugou’s fat, milky shaft, you take what your given and squealing as it hammers into your g-spot over and over and over again until your mind blanks he’s claimed rule over your every thought like a barbarian fighting over land. 

“k-kats! daddy — ‘m gonna,” you drool the words across his open mouth like an erotic flash flood, your sanity dwindling into nothing and your resolve crumbling — he works into your sopping heat, stretching you open,  pounding away at that embarrassingly creamy cunt, just brushing at your cervix. poor you, you can’t help but sob at the unruly rhythm, your mount licking and unlocking to accommodate for the curve of katsuki’s dick that fills you up just right. 

it’s not long before your body fails you, and you’re cumming right then and there. white flashes behind your eyes and drowns out your vision, a scream of your lover’s name loudly rips through you while your release trickles out of you unexpectedly.

“shit, that’s it. all over me, all fuckin’ over me.” bakugou punctuates each of his breathless words with a sharp thrust into the depths of your squelching insides, watching the way you gush and stream around him and onto the bec with a hung jaw and drool seeping out of the corners of his mouth. once you’re spent and fucked beyond, he pulls out slowly — both of you mewling at the cool air on your hot and raw sexes.

now, you both know that pulling out isn’t an effective  method of contraception — but you’re both young and dumb and kid on believe in fate. but it doesn’t make it any less hot when katsuki pumps his dick over you to get off.

your boyfriend wastes no time in grabbing hold of his cock — sticky and glazed in everything you had to offer him, dripping with precum that helps guide the slick movements of his palm along his pretty shaft. you’re so pretty, covered in love bites and sweat and cum, lying there with big dizzy doe eyes — of course it’s going to rile him up. katsuki fucks his fist with an insatiable wanton, squeezing the base where you’ve left a foamy ring if your cream on him, to stave off his orgasm just so he can look at you a little longer. 

“show me your pussy baby, wanna see how much i’ve ruined you.” he heaves through the fog of desire carried in the vibrato. it shakes when you peel your doughy thighs apart — stuck together by clear ropes of your gooey release 

“i want you to cum for me, baby.”

bakugou presses his nose into your shin, a light blush dusting the bridge of it along with his cheeks. “i know, sweetness. ‘m gonna — fuck. g-gonna give it to you.” he stutters out, running a thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead. you feel like you could cum again just from watching bakugou get off to the vision of you — his lips drag along your inner shin as well causing warm breath to coast along your salt-licked skin until you’re shivering through your aftershocks in anticipation. so you dip your fingers between your legs to spread your ravaged folds, circling your abused hole to give him a good look at the damage he’s done to you.

“please katsuki,” you gasp, teasing him just a little by playing with yourself to the same pace that bakugou jerks off with . 

the blonde chokes back a pathetic sob, letting go of his achingly hot and heavy dick to let it thud against his tummy. he’s always been blessed, the sight of katsuki’s length is mouthwatering enough as it is — but seeing it bright red and shining under the yellow light, covered in a thin layer of white to show how turned on he is, is reward enough for you. 

he’s so wet and heavy, oozing at every opportunity he gets — smearing a trail of precum along his manuka honey skin. “you drive me fuckin’ insane, my baby’s tryna kill me,” bakugou slurs over the drool collecting in his mouth, spitting down onto himself which only adds to the lewdness of the situation. “wheredya want it, hah?” dewy sounds of bakugou fucking his own, soiled palm mask his shaky breath, his hips ramming forward and never letting up on their urgent rhythm. “you want me to paint that pussy, white?” leaning forward, he taps his red-hot tip against your overstimulated sex — nearly busting.

“you like that? so fuckin’ naughty, maybe you wanna get all knocked up ‘n filled up by me,” he goads, pressing his cock head against your entrance before going back to jerking off — bat the way your whole body joints from the idea of ‘accidentally’ being bred.

“or do you want me to fuck that angel mouth of yours, get a taste of me?” he speeds up, chasing that innate desire to cum, throwing his head back while a needy groan escapes from the cage in his chest. “m-maybe i should cum on those pretty tits, maybe your face. show you how much i love you. how would you like that, baby?”

his sinful suggestions lull a weak moan out of you as you rut upward, letting katsuki push his slick cock through the remainders of your release still trapped between your folds. shaking hips, you hear the blonde hiss at your warmth around him while he pumps himself harder and faster, losing pieces of himself to you. leaking all over you.

“let me have it, katsuki. cum for me, wherever you want.” you command him wistfully, following through when his colourful curses turn to airy and dreamy moans — hot spurts of viscous seed shooting from his tip over your quivering mound and soft tummy, claiming your body as katsuki’s prize. you’re in love with the way his face twists, his crimson eyes wet enough to reflect their colour like a kaleidoscope,  his pink lips bitten until cherry red and wet with his own tears and sweat,  his soft blonde hair matted to the sweat that pearls against his forehead. 

katsuki looks like an angel when he cums. 

“fuckin’… holy shit, i fuckin’ love you so much.” bakugou cries as he cums, collapsing over you smaller-than-his frame as the aftershocks wrack through him. you push your fingers through his sweaty locks to bring him back down, soothing the static ringing in his ears as the rest of his orgasm smears against your inner thigh. “y’so pretty baby, jus’ go fuckin’ insane watchin’ you cum hard f’me like that.” he breathes, lashes fluttering against your neck.

kissing the side of his head, you hum in content. “i could say the same about you, lover boy.” pushing at his muscular shoulder, you giggle. “now let’s get cleaned up, unless you were serious about getting me knocked up.” 

“s-shit,” laughing rasping, bakugou rolls off of you and nestles himself into your side. “don’t say shit like that. you already got me so fucked up.” 

“you and i both know we could go again, hot shot.” you grin as bright as ever — tempting your boyfriend into another round. “best two out of three?”

“i fuckin’ love you,” 

“i love you too.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[jyoongim]

I literally kick my feet anytime I see you post your writing is so good. Fuckin biting my nails and screaming !!!!

Mayhaps something with alastor and like stoic reader. Like she’s badass, nothing gets to her and tries so hard to seem dominant (cause she knows compared to alastor she really isn’t). Has never fucked annoyed cause it’s the “I only need myself, I can get myself off” mindset

At one point she ends up getting snippy with alastor and he like grabs her by the throat or something to stop her and she immediately just looses all resolve. It’s viable in her eyes as she quickly goes from defiant and brash to meek and submissive just by something so simple because she’s so unused to the feeling.

Thank you for enjoying my writing🥹🥹🥹 I hope I can continue to give you everything you desire🩷

You took a seat beside Velvette as the Overlord meeting started. She was practically fangirling next to you, sneaking a few pics of you for her socials.

The meeting went as smooth as one could go with a bunch of powerful Overlords. 

You were chatting with Carmilla about business, catching sight of a familiar red demon leaving when Velvette quite literally stole you away, she sported a big grin on her face “Ooh babes, Voxxy wants to know if you’re accepting his dinner invite?”

You wanted to groan. Vox had been quite persistent in trying to gain your ‘affections’. 

You were a relatively powerful overlord. As one of the few female sovereigns, you always made sure to carry yourself with poise and elegance. You got your power on your own, never having to sleep your way to get what you want. And you kept it that way. Your dominant cold personality made sinners shake in fear.  You possessed a great mind for business, able to build or break someone’s business. 

Many sinners would be lucky to have you oversee their management.

And Vox could see you bringing him more money then he could count.

With you under him, he would dominate in sales.

You shook Velvette off, smoothing out your suit. “For the nth time Velvette…no. I am not some power clutch for Vox to try and woo” you growled at her, eyes flashing.  She rolled her eyes “babes you dont know what you’re missing” You rubbed your head as you made your way out the building, trying to ease a migraine coming through.

Your sneer must have still been on your face because you heard a voice teased you

”Frowning doesn’t suit you my dear”

Alastor.

The tall red demon was leaning against a wall, smile ever present.

You felt your eye twitch before quickly regaining your composure, spine straightening and lips pulling into a straight line.

You and Alastor were something like friends. You liked to keep your distance from the Radio Demon, but somehow he always found a way to bother you and keep you close enough for ‘entertainment’. He made you uneasy with how intimidating he was. His ever present smile could make people shit bricks alone and you knew what happened to those who crossed him…

But he didn’t scare you…much.

You growled slightly at his comment, your irritation was blinding the fact that you just barred your teeth at THE Radio Demon.

He tilted his head “trouble in paradise?” he asked sarcastically. If anyone didn’t know, Alastor knew how much you despised Vox.  

”Oh piss off Alastor” you said walking pass him.

You didn’t get far before you found yourself pressed into the building wall.

You blinked, brain catching up to the fact that Alastor had a claw around your throat holding you up against the wall.

You growled out of instinct, eyes glowing and squeezed his wrist “Are You fucking crazy!? Unhan-!” 

 The tightening of Alastor’s hand had your eyes widening.

“Watch your tone darlin’ ”

 your body went slack as a purr escaped your throat.

Alastor chuckled darkly “hahaha oh what’s this? So you aren’t so scary after all”

You blushed immediately.

You weren’t used to being manhandled by anyone. 

You didn’t take orders from anyone.

You were always a force to be reckoned with…

But the way Alastor towered over you, pressing into you, you melted as he established his dominance over you.

A pout formed on your lip as you looked away shyly, feeling small “s-sorry”

Alastor hummed, loosening his grip, favoring to catch your chin with his claw for you to meet his gaze

”that’s a good girl”

@absurd-ash @simphornies @altruisticalastor @markster666 @crazyforbarnes @catherine69420 @yourdoorisunlocked @strawberrypimp666 @sssandychemd @dasimp777 @dennsfz @alastorsaries @confessioncassette @horrorartsworld @alstorloml @scaramoochiie @alishii (I can’t tag you) @gojosaturos-wife @prosciuttosblog @wedream-wecreate @coleisyn @alastorsfawn @eviebuggg @spalimly @senseichaos @thewinchestah @queenariesofnarnia @polytheatrix @zombiesnips-blog @lunaramune @freekyfangirl @kassa-stardust

If I’m missing anyone just comment hehe

[ceoofsammonroe]

Cuff Me - James Kelly Smut

Summary: You and your boyfriend, James, get into a fight after he almost runs into trouble with the police. Not liking his pissy attitude, you decide to teach him a lesson in restraint.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, bondage, bratty!James, teasing, James is a switch when the circumstances are right, masturbation (reader receiving), edging, denial, begging, degradation, praise, lots of pet names (pretty baby, baby, doll, etc.), James is a yapper, angst, angry sex, cock warming, multiple orgasms (reader receiving), face-sitting, handjob (James receiving), oral sex (James and reader receiving), James is a lil mean at first but reader puts him in his place.

Masterlist

You could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance as your stomach tied in knots. You chewed worriedly on your bottom lip, watching outside the window of the car you’d parked behind an old, rundown pub.

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands as you closed your eyes. When you’d gotten a call from your boyfriend that he was in trouble and needed you to pick him up, you’d dropped everything to go to him. Now, as you waited, you felt the anxiety growing inside of you.

What had he gotten caught up in now?

You jumped as you heard a banging on the passenger window, opening your eyes to see James with his hood up. You quickly unlocked the car, letting him get in. He pushed his hood back, leaning against the headrest as he caught his breath.

James had a reddened bruise on his cheekbone, and his knuckles were a bit bloody. You sighed to yourself, making sure the coast was clear before beginning to drive back to the house you shared.

Knowing he was at least safe, the worry started to melt into anger as you asked, “What happened this time?”

“Frankie said he needed some help,” James sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I was just takin’ a drive with him, to talk. I didn’t know he’d stolen the fuckin’ car.”

“Jesus, James,” you said, exasperated. “How many times are you gonna let him rope you into these situations, huh?”

“He’s my brother,” James argued, turning to you with a defensive expression hardened onto his face. “It’s what brothers do, okay? They look out for each other.”

“He doesn’t look out for you,” you retorted, turning down the street to your neighborhood. “When has he ever sacrificed anything for your wellbeing? He doesn’t, James. All he ever does is drag you into his mess. Yet, still, every time he calls, you run to him.”

James’ jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything — knowing that you were right. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his hoodie as he turned to look out the window, watching the houses go by.

“Things are good for you right now, James,” you said, pulling into your driveway and parking the car. “You opened up your own shop, we got our own place, we’re not in any debt anymore. Why would you want to jeopardize all of that when you’ve worked so hard to get it?”

James didn’t answer, getting out of the car and slamming the door as he walked into the house. Seething, you followed after him, storming through the front door.

“What the fuck are you mad at me for?” you yelled, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face you. “I didn’t have to come save your ass, you know? I could’ve fucking left you to deal with your own shit. What would you have done then, hm?”

His eyes were burning with intensity and you clenched your thighs together. He was so fucking sexy when he was angry. You fought to keep your resolve, to remember why you were arguing in the first place.

James noticed the brief flash of desire in your eyes, smirking as he walked closer to you. You stood your ground, trying to keep your glare strong as he stalked toward you. He dipped his head low, caressing your cheek with a tattooed hand.

“Pretty baby,” he whispered, holding your face gently. “Gettin’ all mad at me. ‘S cute.”

He tilted your head to the side, kissing slowly down your neck. You sucked in a breath, your eyes fluttering shut as your stomach stirred with need.

“James,” you groaned, forming a weak, half-assed attempt to push him off of you. “I…I’m trying to talk to you about this.”

He raised his head back up, brushing his lips against yours as he whispered, “I’m done talkin’.”

He devoured your mouth in a hungry, heated kiss that you instantly melted into. His tongue laid claim, tasting your own as you released a breathy sigh. His hands trailed down your body, gripping your waist tightly and pulling you against him.

His movements were rough and angry. Not enough to hurt — never that �� but enough for you to know that this wasn’t going to be the gentle love-making the two of you often shared.

He nipped at your lips, backing you up until you were pinned against the wall. All thoughts of your fight had flown out the window as you pushed his hoodie off of his shoulders. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull the white tank top over his head.

Your hands roamed over the expanse of his toned chest as he laughed against your lips and whispered, “You’re so easy, baby.”

Easy?

You pulled away from his mouth, shoving at his chest to push him off of you. He groaned, discontentedly, as you paced back and forth in the living room, feeling your blood boil.

“You can be such a fucking asshole sometimes,” you grumbled, resting your hands on your hips as you turned back to face him.

You tried to ignore how good he looked in that moment. His bare chest was rising and falling with heavy, angry breaths and his jeans hung dangerously low on his hips.

“C’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I was joking.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, James,” you bit back, walking closer to him. “This is your life at stake — our life at stake. You think you can just smooth talk your way out of anything, that you can just avoid it and it’ll go away, but it won’t always work that way.”

“Okay! Fine! I fucked up! I’m sorry!” James yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “Can you just get over here ‘n let me fuck you so we can go back to normal?”

You laughed, dryly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You think you can just look at me with those pretty little eyes and I’ll get on my knees for you?” You asked, cocking your head as you walked back over to him. “Is that how you think this is going to go?”

“I think that’s how this usually goes,” he smirked, arrogance dripping from his tone.

You wanted to wipe that smug look clean off of his face. He thought that he had you wrapped around his finger. He thought that you’d respond to his every beck and call. Normally, that was right — but, this time, things were going to happen a little differently.

“Well, I think that you need a little reminder that you don’t always get to be in control,” you said, trailing the tip of your fingers down his abdomen. You smirked, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. “I think that you need a lesson in restraint.”

James chuckled, raising a mocking brow as he asked, “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do, cuff me?”

You turned around, walking toward the bedroom and smiling to yourself as he mindlessly followed. You reached into one of the drawers in the bedside table and bit your lip as your fingers grazed cold metal.

You held up a pair of handcuffs, twirling them around as you gave him a challenging look. He stared at you, incredulously, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Real funny, doll,” he grumbled, crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Now put ‘em away.”

You shook your head, and said, “Put your arms out in front of you.”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is cute ‘n all, baby, but we both know that you can’t put those to proper use.”

You quirked a brow and asked, “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a fact, sweetheart,” he shrugged, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “If you want us to use ‘em, give ‘em here, but you’re not lockin’ those things around me.”

“Really? Because you seemed to be perfectly fine with the prospect of ending up in cuffs when you got involved in Frankie’s bullshit,” you said, matter-of-factly. “How about this — you either cooperate, or you can go sleep on the couch and we can continue this fight in the morning.”

James seethed, glaring at you, but he didn’t walk away. You smirked triumphantly and said, “Good. Now put your hands out.”

He hesitated, but eventually obliged with another roll of his eyes. You couldn’t wait to make his eyes roll in an entirely different way. Begrudgingly, he held his wrists out in front of him.

You clamped the metal cuffs around both wrists — not so tight that it would cause him pain, but tight enough to be a nuisance. You tugged on the chain that connected them, pulling him toward you. He stumbled forward with a huff, clenching his jaw in quiet anger.

“Once you’re begging all pretty for me, maybe then I’ll think about forgiving you,” you said, sweetly, rubbing your fingers through his hair.

His eyes narrowed at you as he growled, “I don’t fuckin’ beg.”

You smirked and said, “We’ll see about that.”

You pushed him back onto the bed, giggling as he flopped and grumbled to himself. You removed your shirt and jeans, watching his eyes darken as he stared at your half-naked form. You slowly crawled over him, grabbing his wrists and raising them above his head. You hooked the cuffs around a beam in your headboard, making sure he wouldn’t be able to move them.

You sat back, biting your lip as you admired him. His muscles were flexed and tense in this position and his eyes were swimming with a mixture of anger and lust.

You placed a hand on either side of his head, leaning down to gently brush your lips against his. When he raised his head to try and kiss you, you dodged him and kissed across his jaw instead.

He released an unhappy groan that turned into a shaky sigh as your lips began to move down his neck. You took your time, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses across his throat. You’d stop to linger on the places that made him shiver beneath you, nipping and sucking dark marks into his skin.

Your mouth made its way down his chest, following a trail down his stomach. James tensed, pulling against the restraints with a groan.

“So sensitive, baby,” you cooed, smirking at his pissed off expression.

His breathing was labored as you kissed his hips, your tongue grazing the skin just above the waistband of his boxers. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as you unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his legs. You tossed them to the side, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs.

His erection was strained against the thin material of his briefs. You used your fingers to lightly trace the large outline, giggling at the way his hips squirmed. You pressed down gently against the area where a small wet spot had already begun forming before placing a kiss to the clothed member. James’ hips bucked up, chasing your lips as you sat back on your heels and watched him with amusement.

“C’mon, baby, don’t fuckin’ tease me,” he groaned, releasing a shaky breath.

“Aw, Jamie,” you pouted, mocking him. “I’m just getting started.”

You hooked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down his legs, watching his pulsing erection spring free. Licking your lips, you leaned down to kiss the top of one of his muscular thighs, then the other. You moved up to pepper kisses onto his hips, careful to avoid touching him where you knew he wanted you to.

James groaned, gritting his teeth as he complained, “I get it, okay? You’ve proven your point, baby. You’re in control — whatever. Just fuckin’ get on with it—oh, fuck.”

He gasped, cursing as your fist wrapped around his dick, slowly stroking it. You swiped your thumb over his tip, gathering the pre-cum that had started dripping down his shaft to aid your movements.

“Is this what you wanted, Jamie?” You asked, cocking your head as you watched him squirm. When he didn’t respond, you squeezed your fist, causing him to arch his back as his hips thrusted up into your touch. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he breathed, glaring up at you with indignation. “This is what I want.”

You moved your fist faster, earning a strained moan from him. You used your other hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them.

“Fuck, yeah, keep doin’ that,” he groaned, humming in appreciation.

“Yeah? You like that?” you asked, grinning as he nodded furiously. “What about this?”

You leaned down and placed a teasing kiss to the tip of his dick, slowly swirling your tongue around it as you continued to stroke him.

“Shit,” he moaned, pulling against the hold of the handcuffs. “Yeah. Fuck, I like that.”

You continued to tease him, sucking the tip into your mouth just to pull back off again. He groaned, thrusting his hips in an attempt to push himself further past your lips.

“Baby, just let me feel your mouth,” he protested, panting as he pouted at you. “Take it all, baby, don’t make me wait. You can take it all, I know you can.”

“What’s the magic word, Jamie?” you taunted, continuing your languid strokes. “You gotta ask nicely.”

James clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as he ground out, “Please.”

“Please, what?” you asked, batting your lashes innocently.

“Please, suck my dick,” he huffed, glaring at you. “There. Is that what you want me to say?”

“It’s a good start,” you smirked, lowering your head to take him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” James moaned, watching as he disappeared between your lips. “Just like that, baby. God, those pretty lips always feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me.”

You hummed at the praise, causing his hips to twitch. You took him as far as you could, using your hand to work what couldn’t fit. Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft, swirling around the tip each time you’d come up.

James’ back arched as he panted, strings of lewd moans falling from his lips. You could feel him getting closer. His hips began to stutter and his breathing grew rough and ragged. You took him as far down your throat as you could manage, swallowing around him.

“Ah, shit,” he cried out, throwing his head back against the pillows. “I’m so close, baby. I’m almost there, just keep goin’.”

You pulled off of him with a smirk, watching as his hips desperately rutted into the air. He groaned, pulling against the restraints in frustration.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson just yet,” you tutted, moving back to stand at the foot of the bed.

His words of protest stopped in his throat the moment you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His mouth hung open as he took in the sight of you, dick twitching as your fingers traced along your chest. When you moved your hands down to the waistband of your underwear, pushing them down with a wiggle of your hips, he let out a strangled groan as he desperately tried to reach out to you.

“You’ve had your fun, okay?” James choked out, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Stop torturing me.”

You crawled back over him, straddling his chest. He licked his lips as he ogled at the delicious view you were granting him.

“Actually,” you started, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I haven’t even started having my fun yet.”

You slowly rubbed your hands up and down your thighs in a teasing motion. You let one hand move up toward your chest while the other drifted down between your legs. James’ eyes widened and his breathing grew faster as the realization of what you were doing set in.

“No,” he breathed, his eyebrows pinching together in desperation. “No, baby, c’mon. Don’t do this to me.”

“Mm, but I need to be touched so badly, Jamie,” you taunted, trailing your fingers further up the inside of your thigh. “Such a shame you can’t help me out.”

He pulled against the cuffs again, panting as he said, “Let me out of these ‘n I can help you. You know it feels so much better when I do it, baby. Just let me out. Let me touch you.”

“You aren’t getting out that easily,” you said, shaking your head.

He groaned in exasperation, still struggling in the hold of the restraints. You brought your fingers down to circle your clit, sighing in pleasure. His eyebrows scrunched together as he let out a noise that resembled a whine. You knew that it drove him insane — watching you get pleasure from anything that wasn’t him. You wanted him to break, you wanted him to cave in to the desperation. His noises of protest grew louder as you pushed two fingers inside yourself, curling them with an exaggerated moan.

“Stop,” he panted, eyes wide with urgency. “You don’t have to let me go, just…let me help you. You can still be in control, baby, just use my mouth. It’ll feel so much better, promise.”

You quirked a brow, leaning over him as you asked, “You wanna taste me, Jamie?”

He nodded his head frantically, licking his lips at the mere prospect of getting his mouth on you. His breaths were shaky and unstable as he peered up at you with pleading eyes.

“C’mere,” he panted. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You moved further up the bed, your knees resting on either side of his head. You hovered above his face, practically dripping onto him.

James wasted no time, lifting his head up and latching his mouth onto you. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the headboard to keep yourself stable. His stubble was rough against the skin of your thighs. His tongue licked a stripe from slit to clit, swirling around the sensitive bundle before gently sucking it into his mouth. He lapped at you like a starved man, his groans sending vibrations through your core.

His eyes stayed locked onto you, watching every reaction. He didn’t want to blink, he barely took breaks to breathe. If he was suffocated between your legs, it would be a happy way to go.

“Mm, so good, Jamie,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “It’s so much better when your mouth is put to good use instead of talkin’ a bunch of shit.”

A wicked glint shone in his eyes as he nipped at your clit with his teeth. You yelped, tightening your grip in his hair as you tilted your head.

“Careful, Jamie,” you warned. “I could still leave you locked up like this and not give you anything at all.”

He flattened his tongue, soothing the swollen bud before returning to his eager ministrations. He knew your body as well as you did, knowing exactly what to do to bring you to the precipice of pleasure.

You felt that coil in the pit of your stomach tighten, threatening to snap as he effortlessly brought you to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Jamie,” you moaned, moving your hips in time with his actions. “Is that what you want? Want me to come all over your pretty fuckin’ face?”

“Mhm,” he hummed against you, eyes darkening as he waited in anticipation for you to come undone.

The sensation of his mouth combined with the vibrations of his voice were all you needed to fall apart. The searing pleasure coursed through your veins as you rode out your release, James eagerly lapping up every drop of it.

Catching your breath, you moved back down his body. You nearly came again at the sight of him. His lips were red and swollen, glistening with the remnants of your desire. He licked them, greedily, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

His hips writhed on the bed, pre-cum pooled at the base of his dick. You leaned down, licking it off of him. James gasped at the contact. He was desperate for any touch from you.

You sat back on his hips, slowly beginning to grind against the length of him. A strangled groan sounded from his lips as he yanked on the handcuffs. He could feel the wet heat between your legs, torturously close to giving him what he craved.

“Let me be inside you, doll,” he panted, bucking his hips up into you. “I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll fill you up just how you like it.”

You could tell he was close to breaking, his need getting the better of him. You couldn’t fight the pulsing desire either, wanting to feel him stretching you out in the way that only he could.

You raised up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down onto him until your hips sat flesh against his.

You gasped, softly, as he cried out, “Fuck!”

He looked at you, biting his lip until it drew blood as he waited impatiently for you to move. His chest was heaving with strangled breaths, every muscle in his body tense with need.

“You gotta move, baby,” he said, breathlessly. “Do something, anything.”

You smiled sweetly at him, batting your lashes as you asked, “You want me to fuck you, Jamie?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I want you to fuck me, baby.”

“Beg,” you told him, dropping the innocent smile. “Beg me to fuck you.”

His jaw clenched, his resolve wearing thin, as he growled, “I don’t fuckin’ beg.”

You raised your brow in a challenge, lifting your hips up so that just his tip remained inside of you before sinking back down onto him and stopping again.

His eyes rolled back as he tugged again on the restraints. His breaths were shaky, coming out in noises that dangerously resembled whimpers. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut before finally giving in.

“Please, baby, fuck me,” he begged, his voice raw with desperation. “I need to feel you. I can’t take it anymore. I promise, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be good, okay? I’ll be so good, just please fuck me.”

“That’s it, Jamie,” you cooed, finally moving your hips as you began to ride him. He cried out your name, his voice breaking as you gave him what he so desperately needed. “See what happens when you follow the rules? You get rewarded with the things you want.”

His head fell back against the pillows, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he moaned. His eyebrows pinched together in pleasure as he watched his dick disappearing between your legs.

“Fuck me, baby,” he groaned, using all of his remaining strength to fuck up into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight ‘n wet for me, aren’t you, angel?”

“Just for you, Jamie,” you breathed, nails digging into the skin of his hips as each thrust brought you closer to that wave of ecstasy. “Always for you.”

You knew he wouldn’t last long, having been too worked up. You clenched around him, nearing the edge as well as he whimpered with the strain of holding back.

“Please, don’t stop,” be begged, eyes shiny with the need to get his release. “Gonna let me come inside you, right? Not gonna stop this time?”

“I’m not gonna stop,” you reassured him. “You can let go, Jamie.”

With your permission, he let the waves of pleasure overtake him. His hips bucked wildly as he came with a cry of your name. You were soon to follow, squeezing around him as the both of you fell over the edge together.

Your legs nearly gave out as you rode through your mutual high. Coming down, you braced your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. You both caught your breath, James’ head lulling against the pillows with a satiated smile.

You leaned over to grab the key off of the bedside table and undid the handcuffs, gently grabbing his arms and lowering them back down. You placed tender kisses against the raw skin of his wrists, the budding anger you’d felt dissipating.

James sat up and wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips against yours, sweetly. He pulled back for a moment, looking at you, before kissing your forehead, then your nose, then each cheek, then your lips again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, bringing one hand up to gently cup your face. “I shoulda known better. I just wanted to help him.”

“I know you did, Jamie,” you said, softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just worry about you. I don’t want you getting hurt again because of him.”

“I know,” he nodded, smiling at you. “You’ve always been so good to me. I’m not gonna worry you anymore, okay? I promise. I wanna do things right with you. I want our life to be a clean slate.”

You sighed, gratefully, touching your forehead to his as you relaxed in his arms. You could never stay mad at him for very long. You wouldn’t want to.

“I mean…not everything has to be clean,” you grinned, playfully. “It’s okay to play a little dirty sometimes.”

James chuckled, kissing you again as he rolled you over so that he was lying on top of you. One hand trailed down to your hip while the other one remained holding your face.

“My pretty baby,” he cooed, kissing down your neck. “Such a dirty girl.”

He grabbed the handcuffs, raising your hands above your head with a devious smirk as he whispered, “Your turn.”

You knew you were both in for a very long night.

[txjis]

blindfold stays on during sex (it doesn’t)

cw: satoru gojo x fem!reader uhh, sex. little to no plot at all. it’s just sweet porn.

credit to ml @loverboyko for the scrumptious idea of gojo keeping his blindfold on during sex until u tell him u love him :3. they feed my brainworms sm *chews on them*

gojo who keeps his blindfold on during sex because without your cunt clamping down on him everything is super overwhelming, he thinks he may actually combust if there’s no blindfold while he’s buried inside of you. gojo and you had been casually seeing each other, nothing was official- but you were falling. you fell in love with gojo satoru, the strongest.

nights spent together in the penthouse he pays for that you stay in, pampered like a fucking princess. tonight, like many other nights was ending with you being pressed into the mattress while his hips slap against your ass. the wet sounds of ur cunny and skin slapping filled the room mixed with the moans and huffs falling from both of your guys’ mouths.

“s’full ‘toru.. fuuu…” you’re a mess, and he’s eating it up. broken cries and moans only making his hips ram into you harder.

“fuckfuckfuck.. gonna cum ‘toru. pleaseplease don’t stop, fuck— i love y- s’much.” the confession came out broken, but gojo had fucked you enough times to understand exactly what you were saying, no matter how broken on high pitched.

you loved him. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt loved, let alone told that he was loved. he ripped the blindfold off of his head, all worried of being too overstimulated gone, out the window, poofed. surprisingly enough, you were his peace. all of you, that’s the only thing his six eyes were focused on. you you you.

”Look up princess, look at yourself falling apart on me.” And you do, you look up, knowing the mirror gojo had specifically added was sat against the wall the end of your bed. at first your eyes gazed at yourself, but then you saw it.

the blinding blue. his eyes were practically glowing. cutting straight through any resolve you had left, fuck everything about this man was ethereal. he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be. but the way his cock kissed your cervix was very very real.

he noticed you staring directly into his eyes through the mirror. when your eyes met each other you came with no warning, silky walls squeezing around his painfully hard cock. your cunny suffocating him, working on milking him for everything he had.

”Fuck fuck.. s’tight. Shit, I love you. I love you s’much cutie. God you and this fuckin’ cunt are gonna be the death of me.” him saying he loved you only made your orgasm last longer. gojo hissed, his hips struggling to move against the grip your pussy had on his cock. he glanced back into the mirror, tearing his eyes away from where his cock was disappearing inside of you. when he saw you mouthing the words ’love you’ he came. he came so fucking hard it knocked the air out of his lungs.

the rest of the night was spent sickly sweet. a shower where he wouldn’t stop teasing you for how you confessed.

”you’re lucky i’ve fucked you dumb enough times to be able to tell what you said!”

god, he was insufferable.

but, he’d let the world burn for you. he’d burn the world down for you. gojo satoru loved you.

ask/requests: OPEN

[f1nalboys]

Takin' It - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x GN!AFAB!Reader

wrote this based off this one singular textpost i made when i was also high. enjoy

WORD COUNT: 695

WARNINGS: nsfw, pegging, bottom!bo, top!reader, reader uses a strap but does refer to it as a cock at one point, doggy style, making bo beg, face down ass up, degradation sorta, reader ended up way meaner than originally planned so enjoy that, vauge hints at bo being a dickhead outside of sex, like a vauge primal urge to fuck bo, both reader and bo are called a bitch, bo calls reader sweetheart/baby/bitch lol, proofread but im currently high and wrote this in an hour so.... take with that what you will <3

“F-fuck you!”

It never failed to make you laugh at just how often Bo ran his mouth. Whether it was in the morning when he decided the breakfast you cooked was too cold, or the afternoon when you had dropped the flashlight you were holding for him in the sweltering garage and he had berated you for an hour, or earlier in the night when he had made some snide comment. Or, like right now, when he was bent over the bed with the blankets gripped tight in his fingers and his face squished into the mattress. His mouth just never seemed to stop running.

“Shut the fuck up, wouldja?” You grunt, hips snapping forwards harshly, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room followed by a sharp hiss from Bo, though it was slightly muffled, just like everything else he said. “How’s it feel, Bo, huh? I can feel you shaking under me.”

For once, Bo doesn’t answer you. You can just barely make out the stitched brow, the open mouth, the few tears that had slipped down his cheek mixing with the sheen of sweat that covered him in the darkness of the room. Your hand, which had been holding onto his hips for the last thirty minutes, dig into the plump flesh, eliciting another hiss and you can’t help but grin down at him when you feel the resistance as you push back inside him. 

“Aw, look at that, fuck. You love it, don’t you? Feeling my cock inside you like this, making you take it,” you grunt, your thrusts speeding up, getting harder. Briefly, you wonder if this is why Bo acted the way he did; being on top and feeling, seeing, smelling every change in your body and being overcome with an urge so interwoven with your body that you act without thinking? Wanting to get more from you and knowing you could give it if he just did it a bit harder, a bit faster, for a bit longer? “You better tell me or I’ll stop.”

Bo makes a choked noise, a sob, and you moan under your breath, sweat rolling down the back of your neck. “Fuckin’ bitch!” Bo spits and you start to pull out, both hands resting on his hips to push him off of you, only another inch or two of the silicon left inside of him, and his hand reaches behind him to blindly grab at your hip. “D-Don’t! Dontchu fuckin’ dare!”

“You better get to begging then, bitch.” You say, leaning over and grabbing him by the hair like he has done to you time and time again, yanking him up. The toy is forced back inside him, deeper than it’s ever been, and you can feel the vibrations of a moan as your other hand rests against his throat. His head, being held back in the angle it was, reveals to you the perfect view of his fucked out face. 

Tanned and lightly freckled skin, weathered from days outside, covered in sweat and a redness that went from his nose to the tips of his ears. His eyes are half-lidded, eyes rolling into the back of his head every few seconds. You laugh at the drool that had collected in the corner of his mouth. A tug on the brown locks threaded between your fingers brings him back to the surface just enough to break his resolve.

“Fuckin’ shit! M’sorry, baby, keep going, alright? I do love it, shit, I do, Y/N! God, j-just like that, sweetheart, don’t you stop, alright? Christ, when’d you get this fucking strong, huh?” He asks, accent so much thicker when he’s not thinking about it. A brief squeeze on his throat and now that shit-eating grin is back on his face and he’s rocking his hips back, fucking himself on the toy as you catch your breath behind him. “You like given’ it to me, darlin’?”

You grin, leaning in and nipping at his neck. “I get the appeal.” You whisper, jerking your hips forwards and taking back over for him. “Now hurry the fuck up and cum or you don’t get to tonight.”

[elizabethsnuts]

Hi could you write something with Ian&Mickey where they a young daughter and she getting bullied bc she has two dad?

Always Got Your Back

Gallavich x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You are getting bullied at school for having two dads and no mum, Ian and Mickey always have your back.

———

Ian had always known parenting wouldn’t be easy, but nothing could have prepared him for the situation he was dealing with now. You had come home from school in tears, and it hadn’t taken long for Ian and Mickey to get to the bottom of it. You were being bullied because you had two dads.

Ian sat at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. Across the table, Mickey paced back and forth, his face a mask of fury. Ian knew that look all too well.

“No kid should have to go through this shit,” Mickey growled, fists clenching and unclenching.

“I know, Mick, but we have to handle this carefully. What is everyone going to think when they hear that her dad fought another kid's parent.” Ian said rhetorically, trying to keep his voice calm.

Mickey stopped pacing and turned to face Ian, his eyes blazing. “Carefully? You think we should just sit back and let our daughter get bullied? I want names.”

Ian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, but we handle this the right way. We talk to the school, we talk to their parents. Y/N doesn’t need you in prison again."

Mickey paced the room, his anger barely contained. "And what if that doesn’t work, Ian? What then?"

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Then we figure something else out."

You walked into the kitchen where your dads were talking, though you did hear everything they said. You looked between Ian and Mickey, your eyes welling up with tears. "I don’t want you to get in trouble, Papa," You said to Mickey.

Mickey's resolve wavered at your plea. He knelt beside you, taking your tiny hands in his rough ones. "I won’t, N/N. I promise."

Ian knelt down next to the two of you, pulling both of you into a tight embrace. "We’ll get through this together, Y/N. We’ll make sure the school knows what’s going on, and you can always tell us what’s going on in school because we’ll handle it."

The next morning, Ian and Mickey walked you to school, holding your hands tightly. They met with the principal, explaining the situation and demanding action. The principal assured them that the school had a zero-tolerance policy for bullying and promised to address the issue immediately. Though they knew schools usually do nothing.

You went to school as normal, going to your class and learning to read and write. At recess, you were playing in the sandpit when the boy who had been bullying you came over.

“You’re playing by yourself again. It’s because you're a freak!” The boy teased. You usually played with your friends in the sand, though they were out sick today.

“Indie is sick today.” You frowned and bit back, your dads always taught you to at least stand up for yourself. “Charlotte is on holiday.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Mother’s Day is soon, gonna bring your mum in? That’s right you can’t! Because you’re a loser who doesn’t have one!”

“I’m not a loser…” You frowned. You didn’t know what else to say, you didn’t even know why he cared so much.

“Yeah, you are! Everyone needs a mum!” The boy stated. He stole your hat off your head and kicked sand at you, running off.

When you got home, you immediately told Ian and Mickey. They were furious the school wasn’t handling it and instead were letting this kid get away with bullying you.

"Fuckin' kids," Mickey muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched tightly. He was known for being tough, but his heart broke seeing you distressed like this.

Ian ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with concern and anger. "They promised they'd handle it!"

Mickey scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. "Handle it my ass. They ain't doin' shit. Look at her!" Mickey gestured to you while wiping away your tears.

“Daddy, Papa? Am I a freak?” You sniffled and looked Mickey in the eyes.

Mickey shook his head. “No way. You’re not a freak at all. They’re just assholes that have nothing better to do than keep pickin’ on you all day. But you’re tough, you’re not gonna let their bullyin’ get to you are you?”

She shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not gonna, Papa. I’m tough.”

Mickey smirked and ruffled your hair. “You’re tough alright, what would the south side be without you?”

“Are you and Daddy going to sort it out if he doesn’t stop?” You asked, hoping they’d say yes.

Ian nodded. “Of course we will, Don’t you worry about it.”

You hugged your dads tightly, knowing they always had your back and would always protect you. Even if that meant going full south side on other parents.

[scramblecat]

Something I really love about Nerdy Prudes Must Die is how it completely subverts the ‘uncool kid joins the popular kids’ trope.

Typically with a story that has a similar premise (a friend or a love interest in a higher place on the school hierarchy from the ‘uncool’ character) I feel like a lot of the time we see the same thing happen over and over: the uncool kid finds a place in the popular kids, and starts behaving like them, treating everybody they used to hang out with as below them. If it’s ‘resolved,’ it’s by the main character realizing the popular kids are actually shitty people that they don’t want to hang out with. Even if at the end they go back to the uncool kids, that pipeline and change still happens, and it’s central to the plot.

And that’s certainly what I thought we were going to see in Nerdy Prudes. After Pete’s phone call with Steph (‘just these two fuckin’ nerds who won’t leave me alone!’), I was genuinely, actually starting to dread seeing Pete go through that change and start to treat Richie and Ruth like shit. I can even go so far to say I was expecting him to, given his newfound boost of confidence and thinking he’s impervious to even Max Jägerman!

But Nerdy Prudes doesn’t do that at ALL.

Pete never rises to the status of ‘popular kid’. Instead, Steph is the one to join the other group.

It’s clear that she’s certainly reluctant to do so— she’s been conditioned by the school environment and her popular kid status to think these kids are losers and Weird and uncomfortable to be around. But she’s also reluctant to actually be a shitty person to them, especially after she starts falling for Pete.

Speaking of Pete, he really is her link into the group, just like the role of ‘popular kid’ usually is played in this genre of storyline. But it’s handled a lot differently, and the way it is fits so well into the plot.

The only reason that Steph is willing to join the group of nerds in the first place is, of course, to get revenge on Max. But at the start of the musical, it’s clear that she doesn’t even know the magnitude of what Max does to the nerds— she straight up asks Pete who he’s running from right before Literal Monster, for Pete’s sake (ha do you see what I did there—). I don’t think she’d have to ask if she knew how much of a monster Max really was. Seeing what he did to Pete was what snapped her into that realization of how fucked up Max’s behavior is (and that nobody is going to punish him for it), which is why she joins the group.

‘But Scramble where’s your Evidence that just sounds like a theory?’

Bear with me here while I talk about Bully the Bully.

Bully the Bully (and the scene prior) is actually the single greatest indicator of how Steph’s opinion of the nerds shifts. At first, she looks and sounds like she absolutely does not want to be there. She takes a place standing FAR away from the group—

— and retorts back at things they’re saying multiple times, insulting them a little, and just generally looking down on them. (‘God, you guys are nerds.’).

She comments on how she thinks the things the nerds are doing are weird (such as the way Grace spins around) and seems very resistant to participating. She still looks down on most of them, and she doesn’t even try to hide it.

But as the song goes on, she starts getting a little more into it. Grace swings her into the group, and she starts participating just a little, joining in on the lineup, laughing a little. And while she doesn’t contribute her own solo line on the rest of the ‘fealty, a duty’ bit like everybody else does, she joins in on Pete’s part once she sees that he’s participating, too. And she’s starting to smile a little!

She starts joining in on the antics a little more after that, and this time on her own! She’s genuinely having fun!! All of a sudden she’s alert and a little more enthusiastic about this, starting to match the energy of the nerds, because she’s realizing that it isn’t so bad after all, and actually that they’re fun to be around!

I really like this sequence here— she’s fully involved at this point, but is thrown off when she sees the other nerds all of a sudden improvising with the moves —

—And tries to come up with one of her own the next time around.

Even if she doesn’t get one in, it’s still clear that she wants to be a part of it, too.

My favorite part however is when she joins in on the ‘bean school’ bit, where she seems a little not sure of what they’re doing & hesitant to do it, but tries to go along with it nonetheless, just like the improv poses— no matter how odd and random it seems to her at first.

It’s a sharp contrast to how she’d been at the start of the song, separated from the group and looking down on them for doing these weird little things. But by the end, she’s realizing how enjoyable this group really is! She’s dancing around with them, fully and eagerly joining in on what they’re doing, having fun just being goofy and weird! And she doesn’t see it as a bad thing anymore!

(Okay Scramble note: while making this gif I noticed that Steph is actually the first to initiate the snapping at the end WAAAA… I love the little details in this show. reminder to me to make a post compiling some of my favorites because there are so many I’ve noticed on my rewatches...)

The transition of Steph’s attitude toward the nerds is absolutely delightful. There’s none of that ‘returning to your own position in the heirarchy’ stuff, either. She’s made herself comfortable as a part of the gang, and she enjoys it!

While Steph is the biggest and most relevant, there is actually another (short-lived) example of this— with Max Jägerman, right before his death.

Max is the antagonist of the show. Hell, there’s an entire song at the beginning of the musical dedicated to establishing how much of a terrifying monster he is, and how all the nerds fear him. He even says these things with his own mouth, and he says them with glee. He’s proud to be a bully that people fear, he’s proud that people cower down around him, and he’s absolutely not afraid to be horrible toward those he deems below him.

But after Max is told that the nerds put this together purely to scare him— and that he deserves it— his demeanor towards the nerds changes ENTIRELY. All of a sudden, he’s not the literal monster that he’s explicitly been shown to be up until this point. I’m not saying that ‘he was like this all along’ or whatever— he very much does not regret anything he’s done, and does not regret the person he is, and still is that person. But for a single moment, he sheds the god complex, and for the first time, treats the nerds like equals— and not even in the way Kyle and Jason are ‘equals’.

He’s genuinely excited and happy about all this! He expresses how he really liked how they went about this, and compliments Ruth!

And he’s not bringing them up to his level, either— he is meeting them where they’re at. Similarly to Steph, he’s starting to be okay with some of the aspects of how the nerds behave, and even finding it fun in his own way. Even if the intent was to scare him, he likes the way they executed it, and takes it as something they did to make him happy. Obviously he never gets to have a chance at adjusting to it like Steph did, but hey, I’m counting it as a small example regardless!

(And this all is not to discount the fact that he’d very proudly done— and continued to do— fucked up things. he’s.. not a decent person regardless of this scene AJDHAHRHA im not exactly a max redemption arc truther. but that just kind of showed that he had the Potential to adjust. and then he got killed and turned evil again </3)

Anyway. Really delightful how they executed this trope subversion, and I’m so happy that they did. Not only does it help to emphasize that these characters care about each other/are genuine to each other (especially in the case of Steph and Pete, and Pete and the other nerds) but it really feels a lot neater and nicer to watch than it would’ve been if they’d gone the route with the trope as it’s usually played!

I am notoriously terrible at figuring out how to word a conclusion, so have another little gif and compare it to the first image in the post :]

[lilithbasically]

“Of Course, Love”

Deku x Reader

Minors go tf away pls

Izuku sits at his desk, chin propped upon his fist, counting down the minutes until he can go home. His friends try their best to get him to join for a night of bar hopping almost every weekend but he’s already played that game. There’s nothing of interest out there for him. Bakugo even reaches out a couple times a week but, since the divorce, Izuku just doesn’t want anything to do with the possibility of dating or even hooking up.

Bzzt bzzt

Ignoring the alert from his phone buzzing in his pocket, he stands and gathers his belongings. “See ya next week, Iida!” He chirps as he steps inside the elevator.

Bzzt bzzt

Izuku groans at the idea of being pestered for the next three days about “getting out there” and “doing something instead of moping”. But he’s not moping. He just had the realization that when his actual true love comes into his life, it’ll be swift and unexpected. Not some set up thing or someone he picks up from a bar.

His phone buzzes a third time and finally, he retrieves it from his pocket and scrolls through the notifications.

Y/N retweeted your tweet

Y/N liked your tweet

Y/N replied to your tweet

The elevator doors open and Izuku stands firm, staring down at his phone in confusion, “What…the fuck…” He mutters.

“Uhh, Deku?”

His head snaps up to meet the eyes of his now ex-wife, Uraraka. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he slides past her without a word.

————

You sit on your bed questioning whether that was the opening you should’ve taken when you see the notifications cross the top of your phone.

Deku liked your reply

Deku replied to your tweet

“Oh no fuckin way…” you whisper. Questioning if you should go ahead with your decision, your finger hesitates over ‘send’.

“Fuck it.” Pressing send, you toss your phone onto your bed.

Ding!

Deku is typing…

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” You yell, scrambling to think of a reason for messaging him again just in case he asks.

Ding!

You risk a peek at his message, expecting the worst. “Haven’t talked to you in forever! How’s life treating you?”

Letting out the breath you’ve been holding, you respond, “I mean, not the worst, not the best. You?”

”Got divorced so that’s something, right?”

You smile because, ‘he’s still him’, you think.

“It is!! Also very relatable bc same lol”

Izuku responds instantly, “Oh no way!! Im not going to ask if you’re okay because I know you are. But if you want to hang out, I just got off work. You’re more than welcome to come over.”

You stare at his response much longer than necessary, debating your options. Questioning your motive and resolve, you type, “When do you want me?”

“Always,” he replies.

————

Izuku jumps out of bed to put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and scrambles to pick up his house for you.

Ten minutes later, headlights flood his front windows and you walk up to his door. He can tell you’re nervous by the way you shift from foot to foot. You keep tucking the same strand of hair behind your ear. Checking your phone for phantom notifications.

He thinks you’re cute, the way you’re so obviously trying to play off your nerves. Izuku opens the door, “Y/N! Come in and make yourself comfy. You want some tea? Im making myself some.”

With perfect timing, the tea kettle starts to whistle and he looks back down to you.

“Oh, yeah! Definitely. Thank you so much.”

“Do you mind if I make it for you?”

I know exactly how you like it, please let me

“Of course not. It’s your house, I’m not going to prevent you being a good host.”

“It’s not bitter. I remember you never liked coffee because it was too bitter, right?” He asks.

You try to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks and turn your face away when you fail. “Right, Izu. How do you remember that?”

“I’ve never forgotten a single thing about you, Y/N,” he smiles.

His smile isn’t superficial, it’s not presumptuous, it’s not filled with expectations, it’s just his smile. His beautiful, bright, sparkling smile.

“Same, Deku.”

————

A few drinks and rounds of cards later, you sit at Izuku’s dining room table and can’t stop holding his gaze.

“Ya know, I heard something.”

“Oh yeah, Deku? About what?”

He smirks, “About holding eye contact. If it’s longer than six seconds, you either want to kill or fuck the person.”

Holding his stare, you ask, “And? Are you trying to ask or say something?”

“Which is it?”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you.”

Izuku keeps the contact for a moment longer before looking at his glass and asks, “Do you want another? I’m having one more.”

“Yeah, I’ll have one more with you.”

————

“Ahhh fuck, Deku…” you moan as his finger glides over your clit.

Izuku’s cock twitches in anticipation, “You’re the only one that I’ve ever liked calling me that.”

“Pl-lease…oh god, Izuku…”

He rolls over you, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, “Tell me you want this, baby. Please,” he begs.

“Deku, please…”

Both of you gasping as his dick glides against your walls, he stops.

“Baby. This isn’t what I invited you here for,” Izuku rests his forehead on your shoulder, “If you don’t want this, please tell me.”

“Fuck me, Izuku. Please…”

————

2 years later

Izuku sits, gazing at the sunset in his lawn chair while his daughter splashes and plays in the pool.

“Hey, love?” You call from the house, “Do you want me to bring the speaker out?”

Brought out of his thoughts by your sweet voice, he shouts, “Yeah, baby! Could you bring some water for me and the baby?”

“Of course, love.”

————

[shslskaterboy]

I often time find myself thinking about missed opportunities in persona 5 and the many writing blunders it makes, but I think probably the most baffling one that still plagues me to this day is the complete lack of proper resolution for Ryuji and Morgana’s arc. It seems like such a classic use of the “two characters who are always bickering” trope, just an ongoing bit that they have, but the writers actually take it in kind of a different way by having it become too real. Things become actually tense as the story progresses, and the benign banter stops being so benign and becomes a lot more pointed, until we get to the point that they’re pretty much taking very personal jabs at each other’s specific insecurities, and it’s really not playful anymore. This of course results in the whole Morgana running of don his own thing, and the first time I was playing through the game I thought the obvious way the arc would go would be: Track him down, maybe a botched apology to build tension further, have some sort of breaking point where everything overflows, and then much the way it does in canon, there is some sort of event (ie Ryuji standing up for him against Haru’s fiancé) that demonstrates the actual care they have and allows for them to smooth things out juuuuust enough to get to the point where they can talk as a group and resolve things. So okay, at this point we’re almost in line with what I expected, so clearly the only thing left to do is have the heartfelt scene where Ryuji and Morgana apologize to each other, right? “I’m sorry I let the fame go to my head,” and “I’m sorry I lashed out bc of my insecurities,” at the very least, then they reconcile and agree that they are really friends and this whole fight was stupid, and they’re sorry, they make up, and the banter can resume but in a more lighthearted manner that clearly displays the growth they both made along the way.

And yet.

We get absolutely nothing of the sort, and I was absolutely fucking flabbergasted by it. It seemed so obvious for that to be the direction they took, because why else would they do all that set up? Why would they make a point of demonstrating that Ryuji was being such a fuckin asshole about it? Why would they double down on Morgana’s bitchiness? It all seemed like the perfect lead into a really good character arc for both of them, and instead they just gloss over it and go “don’t worry they’re fine now” like HELLO?? Are you sure??? Bc that shit got pretty damn personal at the peak there, and you’re telling me they just smile and nod and work together without ever addressing it? Like. Boy atlus what on fucking earth are you doing at this point, just padding for time in a 130+ hour game? What was the point? Truly I will never get over it because it could have been so good for both of them, but instead we get nothing but a half assed apology that doesn’t even land, and I think that is sucks and I’ll never get over it

[ariariari-freehounreal]

Huhh so I’m like thinking of an au mostly to justify my chelley week stuff being mostly human Wheatley and like. Idk domestic au/survival au and? Wheatley is a human but like not always a human so maybeeee. Chell has been out of aperture for awhile…maybe like two years or something and she’s kinda just living like. She’s living in some abandoned cabin in the woods a couple miles from aperture because she’s too scared to be too close but feels too alone and alienated and scared to look for other people really.

But like maybe every now and then she goes and checks on the shed and makes sure nothing’s changed because she’s scared someone might get caught and dragged down there or something but no one ever does.

But like ONE DAY! She goes over and there’s just some fuckin guy in the wheat field and she’s like

Oh fuck. Is this guy dead.

And she pokes him with a stick and he’s like

Whuh?? Oh! Hi! oh.

And she’s like

I know that fucking voice WHAT THE FUCK

and he makes up some bullshit ass story GLaDOS told him to tell but ACTUALLY he’s not even really human and he’s an android or a weird hologram thing like in bluesky or some shit and. GLaDOS sent him up to try to get more test subjects! So they like. Idk there’s a whole story and shit where they try to find more humans and then something happens and Chells like

…you’re not even a person are you…

And he’s like UHHHH WELLL. I WAS GONNA TELL YUO BUT I DIDNT WANT YOU TO BE MAD BUT LIKE FUCK GLADOS RIGHT HAHAHAAHHH EUG….

Andchells like UHHH FUCK YOU?? LIAR. STUPID ASS LIAR .

But idk it’s resolved then it’s all okay and shit happy ending yeah. It’s actually 3am rn idk maybe one day I’ll write a fanfic.

Extra stuff:

Chell only wears a jumpsuit around him for a LONG TIME bc she has lots of scars from aperture and seeing them messes with her and also she doesn’t want him to know that he’s had any long term effect on her [physical and mental scars] even tho it’s obvious this bitch is traumatized she’s just in so much denial LOL

Chell has like. A little garden and maybe a couple geese or something like a mini farm idk . All makeshift crap

[shinjiikar1]

So as I've been watching My Stand-In I've been writing down my thoughts on each episode, because boy do I have a lot of thoughts about this show. It's just really good to chew on! I'm a little behind and I'm trying to catch up before the finale, so I thought I'd post them throughout the week as the show comes to an end;; Starting with Episodes 1-4 under the cut ^^

Ep. 1

Joe… my guy… everything sucks so bad for you already huh ☹

Wut being at the hospital and talking about old joe… joe being like “guess I have to be a stand-in for another guy again” like so resigned, it hurts :(

It’s interesting to see like, Ming already having some sort of feelings for Joe when he probably doesn’t even realize it

The way he looks at him when Joe cooks for him and does nice stuff for him, he seems to just not “get it” and I think he’s confusing his feelings of like general attraction (esp due to his similarity to Tong) and his warm feelings of being cared for, for just that similarity

The fact that Joe just likes him immediately and wants to do things for him is I think not super helpful for his brain, like, in some ways it is, bc he’s being shown care in a way I suspect doesn’t happen often, but also Joe is really just letting himself get steamrolled

I do appreciate his mild level of self-awareness with the “you shouldn’t sleep with someone like me as your first time” thing

Ep. 2

Getting that jealous when you’ve slept with him once and he’s gay is Wild, like you have So many issues richboy

I appreciate that Joe is trying to communicate rationally, unfortunately your bf is a freak, sorry

The shit with Tong is Wild, you need to get over him girl he sucks So bad I hate this bitch

It’s crazy how you’re that jealous about a man you’re ostensibly not dating and “don’t care about”

Making him sleep on the floor in his own damn house and then yelling at him… girl……

Joe please run

Ming has so many issuesss, he can’t fuckin communicate at allllll

It’s nice to humanize him a little in these moments with his sister, he seems to love her a lot, which is nice to see bc based on the first ep you wouldn’t really see that was the case

He’s such a generally unhappy person already

The one person in his corner is the one person he Can’t tell damn… that’s kind of crazy

Oh man Joe is Gone already, I appreciate that he turned Sol down nicely, that does make the fact that Sol is kinda weird later a littler Hm. But not like So bad? We shall see

I wish we had more time to see Why Joe likes Ming so much (prior to him saying he’s in love) but also I get these things happen fast and we have a lot to do

It just seems like his feelings are So strong, otherwise he could let go on round two but… alas

Ming did seem like he was maybe going to apologize, Ming style at least, when he showed up

Cooking dinner is Really cute… making breakfast for my beautiful wife… the kitchen is burning down

The dinner scene is Really sweet, I think it’s a good way to show that they both do like eo

It’s crazy that Ming does still think this is about Tong on some level though, like, girl tf has he done for you

But the way they were laughing;;;;

Ep. 3

Shopping montage, Ming is So bad at not just defaulting to his first reaction to everything ever, which is being a huge bitch about literally everything on earth

Like clearly he doesn’t actually hate all this stuff, but Joe hasn’t learned to read him well enough yet to understand that (which isn’t on Joe, just that like, maybe he could’ve figured that out eventually if it weren’t for the other shit), so Joe just takes his initial reactions at face value (understandably so, he’s a very open person himself and also takes people in general at their word and assumes they are also honest in their reactions)

However, Ming does manage to resolve the apartment thing Fairly okay all things considered, even if it wasn’t entirely bc he’s actually fine living with Joe there (I think he kind of is but won’t fully admit that to himself), negligible points for Ming!

I’ll say this later but I think the show gives you like, some good moments where Ming doesn’t actually suck, which allow you to understand why this is so hard for Joe and also to keep him from becoming like, the devil dfhjgjdf

We’ll see how that progresses in the present, but at least in the past I think they do a solid job with that

I need everyone to stop trying to intrude in Joe’s private life, like leave his ass aloneeeeeee

That dinner did Not go good man rip

Okay Sol is pissing me off a little, idk why so many people keep defending him. Like obviously he’s better than Ming in some ways, but I don’t… love the way he treats Joe, and the fact that he keeps pushing him after Joe Very nicely turned him down… not a huge fan

Can Joe just have like, normal people in his life for once?

I think if they dated it wouldn’t have been like horrible, but I can also see it going poorly. Like imo Sol gives off the vibes of like, getting bored after he gets what he wants but I think I’m overreacting. It mainly just bothers me that he’s so pushy and doesn’t really respect Joe’s boundaries or autonomy. Like, if he tells you it’s his problem and you should let it go then let it go!

Also all the job stuff sucks so badddd Tong is the worstttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

I feel like Ming would have told him more Eventually, but Joe is really worried about pushing him, their relationship probably feels precarious to him a lot of the time, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by upsetting Ming

I think he also wants Ming to tell him stuff himself, based on what we see, it seems like he has some idea that Ming’s family situation is difficult, so I think he wants to give him time to trust him as well

ALAS

If Ming could communicate, we would not be here, but we are :/

Anyways Ming small win about the Christmas stuff, like he is trying a little, he’s not Totally understanding how to be in a relationship, but he has decent moments, the restaurant is way too fancy, but he does actually deal with the watch situation well, good job!

Unfortunately. Tong.

The moment he has with his sister is really sweet. I’m glad there’s someone to tell him that this seems to be good for him. Alas. Tragedy is about to strike.

The mugs is so fucked too…

☹ Joe ☹

Ep. 4

God. It literally couldn’t have gone worse.

Like, I’ll be real, I think if Ming had reacted better, he could have eventually won Joe back

If he’d /listened/, and backed off, and tried to show Joe that he cared about him as a person, not just as a stand-in, I think Joe is forgiving enough, and loved him enough, to make that happen

Unfortunately, it really seems like he’s still kind of unaware of his own feelings on a lot of levels

Like, I think he does think he likes Joe on some level, but he’s unable to untangle that from his feelings for Tong

It’s hard to know how much of his love for Joe is because he’s Joe

ALSO I know I’m not supposed to know this yet, but it’s hard to know how much he actually likes Joe for Joe at all. Like given the whole way he fell in love with him on a very superficial level… Obviously later on I think he does like Joe for who he is, but even though it was never really Tong, that image he had of Joe’s back wasn’t really Joe either y’know?

Anyways, that’s kind of beside the point but I’ve been thinking about it

I know I’ve been pretty charitable to Ming so far but that does end here LMAO

He handles this in literally the worst way possible, like confronting him /at work/?!?!? You’re deranged girl

He’s just so possessive and not used to not having whatever he wants all the time, his rich boy Momence

Like, Joe is /rightfully/ upset, and you’re like “well that’s my personal business” HELLO??? 911???

Ridiculoussssssssss

I hate Tong so bad guys you have no idea, I know it’s far away but I’m sooooooo excited for his downfall

Ming grovelling a little but it’s too lateeeee, or too early, like I said, if you gave it some time maybe

Crazy to be like “oh you’re cheating on me and all you care about is your job” when Joe has literally never lied or hid anything from you… like be SOooooo fr right now

Anyways literally knocking him out AND CHAINING HIM IN A BASEMENT is definitely like, idk how to even phrase this aside from girl what the actual fuck you thought that would get you anywhere????  THIS IS NOT KINNPORSCHE YOU ARE NOT IN THE MAFIA, YOU ARE A NEPO BABY WITH NO JOB AND THAT IS YOUR NORMAL-ASS BOYFRIEND

Joe like sadly seducing him to break out is really depressing, very hard to watch, I’m sorry everything sucks so bad for you I love u

Lets talk about Joe for a second too, I think you can make a case for the fact that he handles the situation a little poorly, but who among us would do better?

Based on his perspective, it’s really hard to tell what of Ming’s affection for him is real, and along with his own extant insecurities, there’s no way he could handle this calmly

Also why should he have to? Regardless of how he feels /now/, Ming did start this entire thing because he was comparing Joe to Tong. End of. Even if they had actually slept together that first night, he was with Joe partially because he was mad at Tong. He hadn’t necessarily made the connection about how similar they looked yet, but he still wasn’t doing it just because he liked Joe.

So like, the only thing I think Joe could have handled better was the acting situation, but he’s having such a miserable time, and trying to regain any sense of dignity and self-respect and this is the only way he can think to do it. If it helps him get back at Ming a little too, I get it y’know?

I don’t really blame him

And as for taking the job, again, what was he supposed to do? He has no support, and he’s obviously not willing to go back to Ming. Those are his only two options since Wut won’t help.

Sidebar I know Wut can’t do much, but to not give him any advice other than “if you do the only thing you can think of to do in this situation I’ll abandon you” ………….. wtf dude. I feel like he’s trying to scare him off it, but you can see how bad of a state he’s in right now… ANYWAYS, not thrilled with Wut

Anyways this show is such a tragedy, you can see all the points where each character could have gone a slightly different way and maybe it would’ve been better, but they didn’t, and now they’re here ☹

Joe’s death is also like, so horrifying btw, literally one of my worst nightmares

Anyways back to the present we goooo

[stardewnoodles]

And I shall lie here, betwixed by love and resolve, unsure which I am loyal to, or if either are even real. Teach me again how to be real.

I had so much fun with this one. Up now on AO3! Or read it below:

I

“You think Pico did it? He- no, you don’t talk! Shut the fuck up! You don’t scare me. Yous don’t know anything. By the time your “calvary” swooped in, he was finished cappin’ off Cass’s ass. Look at the tapes. Shit, look at the look on Pico’s face. He. Did. Not. Do. It. Cassandra did. She and her goons. She came in, spouted anarchist bullshit, and… why would anyone do that? And he’s the reason you even have a witness, period. Rest of us are dead, missin’, or hidin’ in the lockers you’re checkin’ in the school. Of course it sounds like I’m makin’ it up: an alien disguised as a goth shoots up a school, but as I been tellin’ you, I dunno what else to tell you, other than that. The truth. Go look in the gym. Body’s still warm. Pico saved my life and he saved Nene’s and whoever he could. That bastard did more than your entire pig force could in the same fuckin’ situation. You will give him the time alone he deserves. You will not walk to your ‘media buds’ and tell this city that my best friend is a murderer. He ain’t the hero you want, but he is one.”

“Nice little speech, brat. Look, I want to believe you as much as the last guy, but there’s one issue with your story. I don’t blame you for distrusting us-“

“Cut the shit. Don’t give me your fake ass pity.”

“Okay. Okay. The bullets we’re finding in most of the… school children… the fingerprints match the people you say caused this.”

“Oh, so for once you’re doing your job?”

“BUT there’s a small issue with your story. The alien bit makes no sense.”

“Check again, dumbass! It’s there! It’s-“


“There is no body, Darnell. Just a pool of blood dragged out to the playground and a leg. Oh please, don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, no one could’ve survived that much blood loss.”

“…What?”

II

It’s a windy summer evening, making it impossible for the lighter to hold a flame for longer than a second. Pico keeps trying to make it last anyway, even as the wind seeps through the fissures in his cupped hand and blows out the light. He nibbles on the cigarette in his mouth, frustration building. The wind practically spits at the bags under his eyes; the sting of rejection by nature hurts as much as people’s do. Too tired, yet not tired enough, to give up. Pico lifts his eyes off the floor. The city doesn’t look like such a dump at night from a high rise balcony. God willing, it’s the perfect place to get shot at while witnessing the light show. The wind would be too harsh to the trajectory of the bullet, they’d need to account for that as he stands there, waiting with open arms. Nothing happens. Pico spits out the cigarette and watches it fall into the dark abyss below. A bad fog is rolling in, so death can’t see him now. His sweater threatens to rip off his body the way the wind is eager to please him, caressing his waist. With Darnell on his way—he texts this, and it could mean anywhere from five minutes to an hour, because that fucker loves to walk home—Pico falls into the restless delusion that this is a message from Darnell. Fate is bullshit. It serves as someone else’s means to an end that a servant of fate blindly follows. On his worst days, he can’t help but see its appeal. Pico blows a kiss to the wind and begs for it to fly off to Darnell. Only fate can be the reason they share this luxurious room. Darnell is a pyro fanatic who happens to be his best friend since childhood. It’s the classic tale of young love. These are one of the days where Pico looks to the city, outstretches his hand, and ponders.

“Darnie,” Pico whispers. “You wouldn’t love me if we weren’t in this together, would you? A freak accident made you step away from college, that’s all, before we met up again. How could you.” The wind howls and laughs at the man deserving of such. “I wonder a lot, uh, you know, if I stole your future from you. You could’ve been the next Oppy, heh. No. No, what am I saying.” Pico rubs his temples, then his eyes, groaning. If his brain is an office, then all the employees have left and the lights are turning off, one by one. “We both know why you’re not with those freaks. Still…” Life could be kinder to his one and only than this. At the cost of stealing the life of another man, Pico lives in a luxury he dreamt of as a kid. The kitchen has a marble-slated counter with a built-in microwave on the side. The refrigerator is behind an ivory wood door and a bronze handle. The bed is a king sized for two, draped with a blue velvet blanket and a thick comforter to make it easier to fall into the clutches of sleep. Each room is a different color. In the main room, the walls are a dark green. In the bedroom, it’s wallpaper of a boat sailing across the ocean, unsure of its destination, but traveling forth all the same. The brown couch is a perfect excuse for a second bed with how soft its fabric and pillows are. That’s not even the best part. The 4K TV hangs on a brick wall that has a gas fireplace built underneath it. The wooden floor is a standard light brown oak series of planks, but the rug in front of the couch is majestic: a handmade rug based off of Pico’s favorite show of all time, Invader Zim. A priceless investment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at the many weapons strung along the ground. Two out of the four are in dire need of repair This apartment room is one of many safe houses scattered across Newgrounds, paid for in full by the blood and tears of his kills. Vigilante is too nice of a word. A vigilante is supposed to be a hero in some way, shape, or form. Pico is no symbol of hope; he’s the reason windows have locks and figures in power, lurking in the shadows, have twenty men instead of five by their side. There is no side, usually. It’s the money that counts. He’s a bounty hunter, plain and simple, who rarely refuses an offer. A person who blends in with the crowd seamlessly, able to hook Newgrounds like a fish to bait. Despite this, he is simultaneously the very person they never want to meet in their entire life. It turns his gut into a Fruit Roll-up, but he must admit (oh yes, Pico licks his lips to it), the initial shock, the realization, it never gets old. He has to keep it fresh, or else it’s too boring. Raw human emotion is on the same level of eating strawberries the first day he buys them. They are succulent, ripe, and oh so juicy in a way that sticks with him until the next batch. It’s so fresh it gives his mouth an orgasm as it runs down the corner of his lips. Pico taps a finger against the railing. The taste is slightly different, batch after batch. Similarly, no one person evokes the same response to a topic. How delicious. Sophomore high school literature said that, at least. Pico steps back inside and closes the sliding door. The roar of the wind is forgotten by the soothing crackle of false embers.

A whisper comes from the gas. Pico gets close to the fire, cocking his head at the heat brushing against his face. The allure is still there in the form of the frustrated dance of the flames, anger begging to be unleashed. A faint outcry can be heard the longer Pico stares at the fireplace. Something calling to him with such bitterness, the flames may as well be spitting in his face. There are enough people to count on one hand who he’s heard with such hatred. He cautiously reaches out to it. The fire suddenly bursts with new life and swipes Pico’s right hand away. A hundred microscopic bullets tear through the inside of his flesh. His eyes widen in shock when he looks at his hand. The heat, which was meant to be cool at all times, was hot enough to add another battle scar to the collection in a mere second. Pico licks his dry lips. Hot as hellfire.

“Shit!” An issue with the gas? A warning? What else could it be? Pico shuts it off quickly and kisses the new burn mark on his hand. It’s right next to the other hand he sustained over two years ago when Cassandra… “Everything fucking breaks that I touch!” Pico shouts at himself, pissed off, embarrassed. Static sets in. It’s so loud in his head, blaring like the theater, but he can’t leave, he’s glued to the floor.

A rap at the door echoes inside the room. Pico draws the uzi strapped to his waist, ignoring the sharp pain running up his right hand, then up his arm. The safety flicks off easily. The fire dies down, its noise in his head replaced by the roaring static and the drumming beat of his heart. The average draw time of a lousy shooter is one and a half seconds. A better one, maybe a second. The best, six tenths of a second. Taking into account the fact that this is a safe house and he knows nobody else here, he has to assume they’re good at their craft. He either shoots the moment their gun crosses the safety of the hallway or dies. No, he has no idea who it is, he can’t shoot immediately. A shadow blocks light from crawling under the door. Keys jangle as the intruder figures out which one to use. Pico squints. Any second now, and then the noise will stop. Any second now, and he’ll have to worry about buying 5 gallons of bleach. Any second now—

“God damn it, which one of these damn things is it?!” An irritated voice hisses from the other side of the door, just as the lock turns and the door swings open. The static dissipates. Pico lowers his uzi, clutching at his head. Stupid fucking faggot , he grits his teeth, cursing at himself. Look at you . “Peeks? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or a demon, or some crazy type shit. You good?” Darnell’s wearing his white sweater and jeans today instead of a flaunting hoodie to blend in more with the crowd. He’s been trying new styles lately, this time with a touch of black lipstick he smacks his lips on. His hair has been cut down from a tall flattop to box braids reaching his neck. He got the haircut last week, and it still leaves Pico in awe. He’s gorgeous, divine, raw. “You’re wearing my hoodie again.” Pico clicks the safety on and straps the uzi back to his waist. He takes off his gun belt and tosses it onto the couch.

“Is there a problem with it?” Pico sighs deeply. He tugs at Darnell’s purple and yellow hoodie. It smells like him. It’s soft like him. “Thought you were someone else. You didn’t knock five times, just twice.”

“Oh, I was supposed to- oh shit, I was. I’m sorry man, I totally forgot. '' In his hands, Darnell has two black plastic bags that he grips tightly. They’re lightly covered in rain drops, a sign of the coming storm looming over Newgrounds. Pico looks out the window. Bleak clouds steal the sunlight and use it for their own machinations, absorbing each other like an amoeba. As if on queue, thunder rumbles in the distance. Darnell drops the bags and kneels down to inspect Pico’s hand. Darnell’s face distorts, as if he cannot believe what he’s seeing. He blinks a few times, making sure it isn’t a hallucination engraved on Pico’s hand. Darnell inhales and exhales sharply. “Fail at cookin’ again?” He says with a weak smile.

“No, no the uh… the fireplace.” Pico raises a brow at Darnell, but Darnell doesn’t leave him time to counter with his own question.

“That shouldn’t cause a burn. It ain’t real one in the first place. The gas is only hot enough to keep the cold out of this place. Yeah, that’s hot, but not hot enough to do that.”

“I know, but it did. It lunged at me like it had a bone to pick with me. Really fucking weird. It felt like being bitten. Reminded me of…” A lump gets stuck in Pico’s throat. The word cannot properly form and be uttered, even after all this time. What a coward he was. “You know…”

“She’s, uh,” Darnell pauses, biting his lower lip. He clears his throat. “She’s dead, dude, and last I checked the only person who could maybe revive the dead is busy rearrangin’ your ex’s guts and on our side. I’m sure it’s just a fault with the gas line. I’ll call about it tomorrow.” Darnell squeezes Pico’s hand affectionately before letting go. “Weird burn tat, though.” Part of the training Pico’s father made him endure was the reading of emotions through tonal shifts and a person’s eyes. Slight twitches and awkward shuffles reveal truths that were meant to stay buried. Pico can dig them up, and Darnell, here in the room with him, looks at his hand with fear.

“Huh?” Pico hasn’t been paying attention. Earlier it was too red to make out, but now that it’s settled, he can’t rub out of his eyes what he sees. It’s real. A fiery, distorted, inverted cross. Pico shudders. “Darnie! You don’t find that crazy?! Not at all?! Are you nuts?!” Pico whispers, venom in his tone, afraid of speaking out loud in case the tiny ignition flame that burns day in and day out is listening. Darnell jumps. He rubs his lips with a finger; he does it whenever he’s lost in deep thought, pondering the unknown.

“I’m out there, small time inventor with some fireworks on the side, not a D&D Necromancer. Ain’t nobody but the Dearest fam is, and they’re literal demons. Peeks.” Darnell urges his lover to think about anything else in the known universe. Pico chuckles at Darnell. Small time inventor is one way to describe a pyromaniac. He knows no harm can come to him when said pyromaniac is in the room with him, but he can’t rip his gaze away from the imprint on his hand. Maybe… maybe… maybe? Pico shakes his head. “Well,” Darnell claps his hands together. It brings Pico back to reality. “I did buy some new gloves for your motorcycle ‘cause you whined about it every day to me for the last two weeks. You wanna try them on?” Darnell eases out of the topic while rubbing Pico’s back and sits down with him. He presses the tip of his fingers against the aching muscles in his back. Pico forces down the rising whines of affection.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Pico nods to make his decision clear. Darnell takes the fingerless gloves out of the first bag. They’re purple and the same striking shade as Darnell’s hoodie. It’s a thick material with velcro straps. He puts them on with the help of Darnell, who slowly slides them onto his boyfriend’s hands. As Pico tightens the strap, Darnell rubs a thumb against Pico’s palm. The ginger’s cheeks paint themselves pink.

“Shit’s fire with the hoodie.” Darnell kisses Pico’s glove, looking into Pico’s eyes as if he is royalty. A chill spreads through his veins the moment after Darnell made contact with the glove, taming the wildfire in his hand. The heat travels elsewhere. Pico’s face turns red as a pepper. “I been doin’ the wrong thing, not lettin’ you wear my favorite hoodie more often. You sho seem to love it.”

“Shut up.” Pico says with a wide smile. He balls his hands into a fist. The pain is gone. “Thanks. Really, thanks.” He debates making out with Darnell, exploring the feel of the gloves against Darnell’s hairy chest. He decides against it; now isn’t the time, as much as his body screams at the slightest signs of affection. “What else you get?” Pico turns his attention back to the windows. Thunder booms outside the apartment building. Lightning flickers in the distance—nature’s alarm has been set off. Pico counts the seconds between each strike. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Another clap of thunder. One, two, three, four, five. Thunder rumbles the building and lightning touches down like an SOS, a call to get inside and stay inside. He turns back to Darnell, who’s holding two matching motorcycle helmets. Streaks of black lightning decorate the top, with an explosion of different shades of purple, like fireworks molding into each other, covering the rest. The visor, with its sleek black shade, blocks out UV rays from the sun to make driving easier. Pico notices how easy it is to see the inside of the helmet despite this. Another thing he notices: they are the perfect size for Pico and Darnell, respectively. Finally, the cushioned interior makes it wear for long periods of time without causing the annoying throbbing Pico is used to. It’s meant for Pico, no one else. It’s perfect. The craftsmanship could’ve only been done by one person in the whole world. “Darnie, you made these?” Pico asks, despite knowing the answer. Darnell gives a devilish grin. Pico wipes the grin off his face with a kiss to the lips, leaning over to roughly press against his. Darnell gingerly sets down his helmet before wrapping Pico in a bear hug. Darnell smells of ash and weed; it’s pungent, leaving the ginger dazed. He allows his body to sag into his lover’s arms, who tugs at his hoodie to brush a finger against Pico’s back. Kisses meet the freckles on Pico’s cheeks to form a constellation out of black lipstick. The longer Darnell goes at it, the more it smears, the less Pico can hang onto reality. It’s messy, how they like it, with tongues clashing and lips dragging. Darnell presses back harder. Pico’s eyes roll back. He is afraid to lose his grip, fall endlessly into the abyss, but Darnell’s hand interlocks with his gloved one and keeps him afloat. Their passion drowns out the rolling thunder. Pico opens one eye to look at Darnell. His eyes are fluttering, with sparks exploding inside of them. He’s still grinning. He’s in love, somehow, and Pico wishes he knew why. Darnell runs a finger up Pico’s back, but Pico wants to shy away from Darnell. Stop, stop! His brain shuts off, hurls itself into the void. He wipes saliva off of his mouth.

“Peeks? You drawlin’ again? Did I do something wrong?” Pico stares at the floor to try and escape. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again, this time forcing out the question looming over him like his shadow.

“Why do you love me? What… What the hell is there to love? We’re five months into this and I still can’t… I don’t get it. Fuck, man.” Darnell furrows his brows. He thrusts Pico’s helmet into his chest. “The fu-“

“Get it on. We’re goin’ out.” Darnell ruffles Pico’s hair and stands up, grabbing his coat by the door. He’s quick to move, agitated, hastily foraging the drawer by the door for the motorcycle keys.

“Going out? That storm’s going to wreck through here in, like, ten minutes! It’s gonna be shit!”

“Better bring a raincoat then so ya don’t ruin my hoodie. Trust me.” Darnell is calm, assuring. Pico’s soul flutters, warming his body. Pico does. Pico does with his heart and every drop of blood pumping through it. The worries fade. His heart blossoms.

“Bet.” Where Darnell goes, Pico follows, and so he follows.

III

Nene was quick to flee the graduation party scene and find a wall to lean on and a cigarette to smoke down to a stub. No one had been to class since the massacre, but rules were rules, and a ceremony had to be held for the remaining graduating class. “To safeguard their future endeavors and commemorate their resilience,” the Dean of Students stated in an interview the next day. Pico never showed up. His diploma was mailed to the current house his father lived at, since his mother had passed a year prior. Darnell clutches his heart. He’s ashamed to admit he hoped for this outcome. Nene hears Darnell’s footsteps before he sees her. When he rounds the corner to greet her, her cigarette is ready to melt his eyeball.

“Fuckin’ A, woman!” Nene giggles and goes back to dragging on the cigarette. They stand in silence, watching crows circle the school’s leftover property, as if there’s still blood to be found.

“We’re not going to college.” Nene states it as a fact, not a question, and even though Darnell shrugs, he knows she’s right. “Not like we planned on it in the first place. We’re maniacs, the three of us, destined for greater things.”

“Does that destiny include this shit?” Nene looks away, twirling the cigarette, making the smoke dance for her amusement. The risk of burning herself is alluring.

“I’m just saying. I’ve managed to get to Pico over the phone. He’s thinking about continuing what his father thought about starting after his wartime. Sounds like a hell of a time. I may join in.” Darnell stares at her, dumbfounded. Nene flicks the cigarette into the sewage vent by her feet, blowing ash off her hand. “Bounty Hunting. Does he tell you nothing? You’re supposed to be his BFF: Bro’s Faggot Forever.” Darnell rolls his eyes. “You should laugh or I’ll burn off your hair.”

“Haha.” Darnell retorts in a deadpan voice. He rubs his arm nervously. Being a mercenary sounds exactly as Nene put it, a hell of a time. They’d be able to make a load of money off of it. Even if the massacre didn’t happen, all three are adept in methods of killing. Cutting loose after all of this sounds like the best thing to do. Darnell weighs his options. The real world is a boring repetition of waking up for a job you hate and a life you wish you never had. Most people, on average, only achieve happiness in their 40s, unless they have rich parents. Darnell shakes his head. He takes this, he can skip more than twenty wasted years of his life.

Pico will be kept in his sights.

“I ain’t feelin’ good about this.” Darnell lies. Nene punches him in the arm.

“Mhm, don’t be such a pussy. Hey, didn’t you want to talk to me about something?” She asks while playing with spit in her mouth. A shiver runs up Darnell’s spine. He slowly nods.

“They never found Cassandra’s body, only a body part .” Nene chokes on her spit, doubles over, lungs clawing at her trachea. “I can’t tell Pico this, but you-”

“That bitch! She could still be out there! We gotta get her! We got to grind that bitch to dust! Then burn the dust!”

“Sssshhhh!” Darnell covers Nene’s mouth. She glares at him and licks his hand. He recoils back, wiping the saliva off on his graduation gown. “Fuckin’ gross. There’s no way she’s alive. They say the blood left behind is enough to be fatal.”

“Cops will say anything, Darnell, you should know this.” Nene drops her head. “I get why you want to believe it. What a fucking joke. All the shit Pico did for nothing, then.” Darnell wraps an arm around Nene’s shoulder, pulling her close. She pleads to whatever higher power may exist that they aren’t plotting the worst joke of the 21st century. “If anything happens, he’ll shoot you in the face for not telling him before storming off after her.” Darnell frowns. He’s motionless, but not like a statue. Rather, he acts like pudding.

“If he finds out, I don’t think he’ll recover. Nene, we have to see how this plays out. We have to act clueless. I can’t lose him, too. I miss our third musketeer. I want him to live. I want him to smile again.”

IV

Pico’s beaming smile reveals his missing tooth. It brings life to Darnell, and Darnell has to wipe a tear from his eye after he takes his helmet off. No, it can’t be. Darnell never cries, everyone knows that. Pico parks the motorcycle under the giant tree overlooking Newgrounds. Pico doesn’t pester. Surely, he thinks, it’s one of the many raindrops coming down. They run for cover under a garden dome that is closer to the cliff’s edge. They hop over the CAUTION railing and dash into the old rusty dome. They’re careful not to trample over daisies surrounding the stairs. It was made out of metal and silver, a gift to the first mayor of Newgrounds when the town was founded over a century ago. It’s seen three reconstructions in one hundred years, stripping it of rust and remodeling it to the image the founders intended. Regardless, rust and age return without fail. Another remodeling will soon be planned to hide its age, but it will be unmasked again in the future, and the cycle will repeat itself. Their helmets are placed on the soaked metal bench. The design is so bright, he wonders if it can be seen from Newgrounds. Darnell sits down, catching his breath, shivering at the water sticking to his butt. Pico cups his hands and shouts. Raindrops drip from their clothing like a leaking faucet. The dome gives the impression of a circular waterfall coming down from heaven, minus a small clearing that gives the perfect view of Newgrounds thanks to a protruding metal arrow that points north.

“WOOOO!” It comes back from the city, the trees, the sky, the stars, here on the cliffside. Pico’s pale eyes glow yellow as he stares at Newgrounds from afar. From here, the city is a petite Christmas decoration. Its lights illuminate the darkness in his mind and form twisted shadows in places he’d never think to look. Pine trees swaying in the wind give barely any protection from the downpour, but the taste of their sap reaches the lover’s tongues. The damp ground exposes the earth’s scent to civilization once again. Mud, grass, flowers, pinecones, all work in tandem to bring Pico to a calm state of mind. The rain is too loud to tear his thoughts from Darnell. Darnell, the fire that ignites passion, the only flame he’d reach out and risk holding close. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here!” Pico shouts over the torrential rain.

“Now you have, bozo! Ain’t it cool?!”

“Fuck yes!” Pico twirls around, taking in the sights and smells. He trips on his own foot and falls into Darnell’s arms, who reacts quickly enough to stand up and catch him. The raindrops cannot hide his blush. He brushes the water off of Darnell’s face with his gloves. His cheeks, Pico notes, warm his hands underneath the fabric. The fire in his eyes keeps his body warm.

“You asked why I love ya.” Darnell snakes his arms around Pico’s chest. Pico can barely keep his breathing steady once Darnell locks his hands together, trapping Pico. Each word pouring out of Darnell’s mouth, down to the syllable, rubs on his lips like a kiss. The ruthless bounty hunter crumbles and burns when Darnell plants a kiss on his forehead, which he can feel even after his lips depart. Pico whines, submits himself. He dares not touch it, fearing the black lipstick would then run down his face and ruin such a gift. The rain patters above, muffled by Darnell’s words. “I be seein’ an answer written on your face. Should look in the mirror more and see the man I’m seein’.” Another kiss. The two lingering kisses massage his mind. Pico’s breathing becomes erratic. “You’ve never been, and never will be, Cass’ mutt. She’s not who you are. You’re the one who ran on hellfire and came back swingin’. You’ve grown so much. And her?” Darnell lets out a heavy sigh. He looks away from Pico momentarily, then focuses his gaze back on him to keep him entranced. Receiving any sort of acknowledgement hits Pico where it hurts–the heart. He fights back tears, lips quivering. “Got all the qualities I love, too. Total bitch who never stops for nobody. Tough. Strong. Cute.”

“My father would be disappointed.” Pico mumbles with bright red cheeks. Darnell shakes his head.

“Tsk, tsk. We don’t care what he thinks in this house. I had no idea where to go, or who to trust, and you took my hand anyway like we never stopped seein’ each other. Saved me about as many times as I saved you. Ain’t nobody able to keep up with me but you. That’s besides the point. Look, Pico, you could be none of these things, you could still be that damned nerdy runt with glasses and braces who decided to book it to college, and I’d still sneak into your dorm and count stars on your face.”

“Why?”

“When I say I love you, I mean I love you . Not the bullshit you think you need to be. You .” The knot keeping Pico calm, collected, unwavering, snaps. You–the sharpened word was strong enough to cut deep into his soul. His duel against his pent up emotions has at last ended. Pico lets go of Darnell, slumps down to the ground, fists clenched. He trembles, and it isn’t from the cold. It begins to rain inside the garden dome.

“Me.” Pico chokes on the word as tears fall. Darnell sits back down, this time on the metallic floor, with his legs outstretched. He pats his thigh and softly smiles at Pico, who understands immediately what is being offered, and crawls over like a sick dog and lays his head on Darnell’s lap. “Darnie…”

“It’s all good. No one’s gonna hear you here.” The haunting flames Darnell sought to push back are quenched. Pico twitches in his grasp. His assurance washes over Pico, who curls up and bawls like a child. Not a soul is able to hear his cries over the fury of the rain except his boyfriend.

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

Grim where is that rosekiller fic you were teasing us about? 🤨

damn. yeah :/ probably never gonna be posted lmfaooooo. or maybe like. in a long time

im sorry im really inconsistent with shit like this. my writing, i mean. i knew this when i started writing the fic but i went in anyways, teasing yall and shit. im just a fuckin tease, truly

i can give you another long-ish snippet under the cut if you want something to chew on

A pair of marigolds are provided soon after, which Barty doesn’t wear, and Evan is almost inclined to offer a helping hand, shocked at how little protest Barty gives him. 

He gives him none. With the compliance of an automated coffee machine, Barty steps up on the ladder and starts scrubbing the walls above the bathroom sink with vigor, eyebrows drawn down and lips pinched together. 

Evan stands, watches him do so, observing him with clinical attentiveness – his eyes caressing over Barty’s every bump and curve; the sharp elbows, the hills of his hips, dipping into slackened black jeans, loose enough to reveal heart-patterned boxers. The slope of his back, jostling back and forth with each swipe of the sponge, accompanied by the muffled sound of shallow breathing, an occasional sniff. The skin on his fine wrist, the veins pulsating beneath with hot, slick blood, black with lack of oxygen, crimson when exposed to the light. It makes Evan’s hands tremble, iron grip beginning to slip on his resolve, trying to put together the gloppy, scattered gray matter of his mind back together in a panic. 

Barty looks down at him. “Hey blondie, you got any drugs? My Vyvanse is wearing off.” 

Evan’s mind is suddenly spun wildly out of orbit, smacking on the wall. “Uh–”

“Can I look in here?” Barty asks him, already pulling the cabinet open. 

“Stop!” Evan shouts, slamming it shut. 

Barty just laughs, nearly falls off the ladder. 

Evan huffs, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re going to fall, Barty,” he berates, strutting to the corner of the living room where he keeps his drug paraphernalia. “Barty. What kind of a Jesus apostle’s name is that?” 

Barty laughs again, throwing his head back and swaying back a little. “You’re funny. Pretty and funny,” he tells him pervertedly, pressing the sponge into the wall and scrubbing. “It’s not my name, not really. It’s my dad’s. You wouldn’t believe my full name even if I told you.” 

Evan stares at him for a few seconds, hums, then flicks the lighter to the bong’s bowl, inhales. It bubbles between them, milky smoke curling up the straight tube, between Evan’s lips. 

It’s a green glass bong, and the color of it reminds him of Barty’s.

Chromium. 

It’s the color on the wheel opposite to crimson, and Evan wonders if he’ll ever get to see that color. Maybe on his floor, like an inkspill in the form of something divine; the essence of Barty and the vibrance of his innards, twisted and warped around each other, creating a hue of dacre, shiny, marooned plum, perhaps.

Coagulated, fleshy matter and bits of weed, scattered in all the cracks in his floorboards, pouring into the bathroom, tainting the linoleum.

What happens when bleach and blood mix? Does it create something that wasn’t there before? What does it feel like to slather your hands in it, to touch the inside of someone? 

Does Barty have an inside? 

From above him, Barty’s resonant voice cuts through his aching mind. “Why did you let me in here?” He smirks. “Don’t you know about me?”

Evan blinks, remnants of smoke falling from his lips. “Well, why did you follow me? Don’t you know about me?”

“Yeah, I know about you,” Barty says around another cheeky smile, tongue between his teeth. “I told you. I see you, you know, around campus.”

Evan narrows his eyes. “You see me?”

Barty nods, wipes at his leaking nose. “Around campus. You’re always listening to that music, looking like you’re having prophetic visions. It’s pretty alluring. Damn, this bleach is–” 

“Are you feeling faint? Dizzy?” Evan asks him, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He quickly clears his throat, pushes a strand of hair out of his eyes with his index finger. “You should– take a break. Sit down for a moment,” he adds apprehensively. 

Stalling. He’s stalling. What exactly is he stalling? Is he really going to hurt this person? Does he really want to go through with this? 

Evan’s eyes flit to the various objects in the apartment.

Bleach to scrub the blood. Bong to diffuse the tremors. The Persian carpet he bought at an auction. He would have to remove it from the living room. Is the bathtub big enough for Barty’s body? He could fold him. Does he have enough hydrofluoric acid left? What would he use? One of Pandora’s expensive Japanese stainless steel knives? 

Evan looks away from his unholiness. “Well, I don’t know about you. Never seen you before in my life. Why should I know about you, anyway?” 

Barty scoffs, a dismissal of Evan’s tone, canines showing through a smug grin. “Okay, I’ll sit.” 

When Barty perches himself on the ladder, half-sitting on the third step with his legs stretched out, there’s a moment when their eyes meet. 

Evan notes that Barty doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. His face twitches, eyebrow raising just slightly. 

He’s so long. Long and languid, and Evan thinks maybe Barty’s the panther now, the way he’s looking at him like he wants to push him up face-first against the wall. 

Barty tucks his bottom lip into his teeth, feet resting on either side of Evan’s as he stands stiffly in front of him, bong in hand. 

And then something absolutely earth shattering happens. 

Barty’s foot wiggles, brushing the inside of Evan’s foot arch, sock fabric rubbing on sock fabric.

The feel of it makes Evan’s throat dry up, his guts clench. He wants to lean away, get that heat emanating from Barty’s body far, far away from him. Wants to lock him up in a basement, throw away the key, leave him there to beg and cry and moan. 

Barty gently takes the bong from Evan’s tight grip. “Well, if you want a semblance of truth, blondie, I’m damaged goods.” 

Evan raises a brow, watching Barty’s adam’s apple bob with a harsh swallow. “Damaged goods?”

Barty nods, takes a hit from the bong. When he tilts his head back, he blows the smoke into the light, casting a thin veil over their heads. “Yeah,” he croaks, coughing slightly. “I’m shit. But hey, at least I’m me. I’m shit but at least I’m me.”

“Well, we are all just insects groping for something terrible or divine, either way,” Evan tries to reassure him, for some odd reason. He feels compelled to soothe the slight twinge of self-hatred behind Barty’s eyes. “That’s Philip K. Dick.”

Barty coughs into his elbow after another hit. “I think you’re divine,” he says through a cough, eyes watery, rimmed pink. 

Evan clenches his teeth. Barty smiles. 

Smiles with his sculpted, flushed cheekbones, mouth in a perpetual state of laughter, like it’s all so absurd to him.

Evan turns his eyes away. “You don’t even know me,” he grimaces. “You’re a fool if you think I’m anything close to divine. I’m a wretched person.”

“I like wretched. Wretched’s good,” Barty affirms, reaching out for Evan’s wrist. 

His own pulse against Barty’s thumb pad makes him nearly gag.