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delicateflowerss · 1 year

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Don't Worry, Darling: Five

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, NON-CON, somnophilia, drugging, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy, dark!Rafe, blood, mention of a gun, kook!reader, non-canon ages

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist

It’s painful to peel your eyes open.

Your vision is still blurry as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You try to move, and your limbs feel like they’re made of lead.

Finally, you lift your hand to hold your head, trying to stop the pounding within it.

You quickly realize that it’s not just your head, an ache spreading throughout your body, feeling like you got hit by a truck.

You wish you could return to the peace you felt when you were sleeping. All you can remember is feeling like you were floating on a raft, all alone in the middle of the ocean.

For some reason, you think of Rafe. Maybe he was there too. There’s something about his touch and smell that lingers in the back of your mind, a soft coo in your ear.

You wince as you sit up, leaning against your headboard.

The last thing you remember is taking a bath. So how did you end up in your bed, dressed in your pajamas?

Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

At least you didn’t fall asleep in the bathtub, you think as you silently chide yourself for doing something so stupid.

Leaving your thoughts, it takes you a moment to realize Rafe isn’t next to you.

The sun shines brightly through the curtains, and you’re unsure of what the time is.

You find your phone on your nightstand, screen lighting up to reveal a text from your husband.

You squint, reading being a little more difficult than usual. But by the time you’re finished, a small smile is on your lips.

He went golfing with Topper and Kelce and didn’t want to wake you, ending the message with “I love you.”

He must have known how much you needed to sleep.

It takes you a while to drag yourself out of bed, popping an Advil before you feel good enough to make your way downstairs.

You sip your coffee slowly as you stare at your phone. You’ve gotten texts from each of your friends. They’re confused, just as you are, checking to make sure you’re okay after last night.

As you stare at the letters on the keyboard, you decide not to answer any of them. You’re not sure why, whether it’s because you don’t know what to say, or if whatever you type, it still wouldn’t explain how you’re feeling.

For some reason, you don’t think they would understand.

Now that you’re sober, the weight of the incident feels heavier. The last thing you would want is all of Figure Eight to think your husband is a murderer.

But if people are suspicious of him, the police must be also.

Now a new fear squeezes your chest.

What if he’s charged with a crime he didn’t commit? All because he was the last known person to see Chase, along with his reputation of losing control.

You sigh, closing your eyes, trying to rid your mind of these upsetting thoughts.

Your moment of relaxation doesn’t last long as your phone starts to ring, your eyes snapping open.

You furrow your brow as you see a number you don’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

Your confusion isn’t eased as you hear the familiar voice.

“JJ?”

“Yeah. Hey,” he begins. “Sorry to bother you but I think I left something when I was over there the other day.” He barely pauses throughout his explanation, an obvious alarm in his tone. “I know it’s a weekend, but my boss is gonna rip me a new one if I don’t have it back by tomorrow. If Rafe is home, then don’t worry about it. I can just-.”

“Rafe’s not home,” you interrupt, wanting to quickly ease his troubles. “He’s out golfing with friends. He’ll be gone all day,” you say, eyes scanning the empty house. “But I would stop by sooner than later, just in case,” you add.

“O-Okay.” His surprise is evident through the phone. “I’ll be there in 20,” he says before hanging up.

For a second, you wonder how he got your number. But then you remember that the pool company must have yours and Rafe’s for situations like these.

Well, maybe not like this one.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah. I guess these things are more expensive than I thought,” JJ answers casually, holding up a packet of chlorine tablets.

Your lips curve up, following him through the side gate, back to his truck.

“Do you want to come in?”

He opens his mouth, but you speak first, already knowing what he’s going to say. “Rafe will be gone all day. Believe me, he always is when he goes out with his friends.”

You realize that came out more bitterly than you intended.

He shifts, scratching the back of his head. You notice that he’s not wearing his work clothes, a day off for him. You both have stopped on the lawn.

“Uh, not today. But I’ll see you this week,” he finishes with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

He meets your gaze, a nervousness there that you haven’t seen in a while.

“Is something wrong?”

Your question stops him in his tracks. Turning around to face you, he thinks for a second.

He sighs, eyes finding the ground before returning to your face.

“John B told me about what happened last night.” He quiets his voice, like he’s worried someone is going to hear. “You know, with Rafe.”

“Okay…” You stare at him, brows pulled together. You pretend you don’t know where he’s going with this, but you brace yourself.

He does the same at your response. You see his lips start to move, no doubt questioning your reaction.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe it?” You blurt out, incredulity lacing your tone.

He shrugs, shaking his head. “It’s Rafe,” he says, letting out a humorless laugh.

You hug your arms tighter around your body, feeling your jaw start to tense.

You hear him sigh again, his arms hitting his sides.

“It’s not just me who thinks it, okay? I mean, he was the last one to see him alive,” JJ continues, trying to make you see what he sees so clearly. “How many times has the police talked to him?”

“Doesn’t matter. I thought you said the police don’t know what they’re doing,” you harshly reply.

Something crosses JJ’s face, something you identify as pity, and it makes you feel sick.

“So, you think there’s no way he did it?” He asks, a thickness in his voice that tells you he already knows your answer.

When you don’t respond, he tries again, stepping closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me there’s no way he did it,” he begs you, almost like he wants to be proven wrong for your sake.

You feel anger bubble up in your chest, your eyes not leaving his.

It hurts you to realize that you’re not angry with JJ.

You’re angry because you can’t say the words you wish you could.

“I want you to leave,” you spit out, eyes hardening as you point to his truck.

His face falls, disappointment washing over him, lips parting.

“Y/N-.”

“Leave,” you almost yell, starting to feel your anger transform into tears. With all your strength, you stop them.

In a moment, the emotion is wiped off his face, a coldness settling in his blue eyes as he swallows.

You watch him through a glare as he drives away, not giving you another glance.

You’re torn between crumpling to the floor or letting a numbness overtake you.

You find yourself back in your bedroom, still going over the events of the last 24 hours, still going over your argument with JJ.

As you peer over the room, you stop on the spot where a framed picture now hangs, covering the hole Rafe made in the wall.

It’s a picture of the two of you.

It must have been taken a few years ago. It was back when Rafe still went on vacation with his family. You think Rose took it.

The orange sunset sits behind you two while Rafe stares at the camera, and you stare at him. An adoration is visible on your face, and you’re never sure if Rafe knows it when you look at him like that.

A moment in time, frozen, to show the love between you and Rafe.

Now it’s been tarnished.

It’s a permanent reminder of his violence, and how easy it was for you to cover it up.

Is it better to live in ignorance like you have been or to finally know what’s been in the back of your mind since you found about Chase’s disappearance?

You’re not even sure what to look for. It’s hard for you to even think about what you could find and where.

You think back to what JJ said about the murderer being sloppy. If that were true, that means he might’ve missed something when he was cleaning up.

You walk into your closet, trying to forget about the heaviness you suddenly feel. You swallow, eyes scanning his side of the closet. You look over clothes, hands grabbing jackets, looking for questionable stains.

You almost breathe a sigh of relief when you don’t find anything.

You look over his shoe rack, finding clean pairs of shoes, most he barely ever wears.

Just when you were about done searching, your eyes catch on a dirty pair of shoes.

The only one with mud caked on the soles.

Bending down, you feel your stomach drop as you reach for them. You frown, inspecting them closer.

Mud doesn’t mean he killed someone. Even if you can’t think of a reason why his shoes would be dirty in the first place.

The gators flash in your mind and you almost wince.

You stand up, bringing his shoes to the kitchen. You scrub them lightly, just trying to take the layer of dirt off.

The mud comes off easily, leaving the shoes clean. Mostly, at least.

You squint at a pattern of stains on one of the shoes. Your harsh scrubbing not doing anything to get them off.

It seems like something splattered onto the shoe and dried, now not coming off.

After a moment of staring at it, a gasp leaves your throat. The shoe falls from your hand into the sink.

The outline of the stain and the copper color finally hits you.

Tears fill your eyes as you stare at the piece of evidence sitting in the sink, the faucet still running over it.

Rafe watches the golf ball fly in the air, hand still tight around the club, as the ball doesn’t land as far as he wants it to on the green grass.

His face twists up with frustration, coldly staring at the failure of his swing.

He’s off today, not getting a single ball in.

His mind is on other things, like the constant tug in his chest. He’s tried to ignore the feeling, swallowing down the guilt.

But he keeps thinking about last night.

All he can do is tell himself that he’s not the bad guy. He just has to do bad things sometimes.

He just wishes you didn’t have to get caught in the eye of the storm.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he tells himself, the words echoing in his head.

When he finally looks behind him, he notices the uneasiness coming off Topper and Kelce, even if they try to hide it.

“Your turn,” he reminds Topper.

All Topper does is catch Kelce’s eye, asking for silent reassurance before releasing a sigh.

“I think we should talk, Rafe.”

Rafe squints at Topper’s words along with the blazing sun.

“About?” He asks, letting his club hit the ground.

“Well…” Topper pauses, glancing at Kelce again. “Last night looked really bad.”

Concern paints Topper’s features, his fingers gripping the golf club in his hand. He’s met with a blank stare from Rafe.

Topper’s face falls a little, fighting to keep his composure.

“Everyone’s talking about it, bro,” Kelce interjects, watching Rafe with the same concern.

Rafe’s lips part, an understanding crossing his face.

“What are they saying?” He asks.

“It seems…like people think you…,” Topper stops himself. “They think what Jake said is true,” he says instead.

Rafe slowly nods, absentmindedly biting his lip.

“I didn’t do it,” he finally says.

“We know that,” Topper says quickly, looking over at Kelce.

“Yeah. We know you didn’t do that shit,” Kelce adds.

“We just wish everyone else knew the truth,” Topper finishes, his eyebrows raised.

Rafe just looks to the ground, brows pulled together, already thinking about what he needs to do.

He casually shrugs, jutting out his lips.

“Let people think what they want.”

Rafe doesn’t hide his anger when he makes it back to the security of his truck.

“Shit,” he yells, his hand hitting the steering wheel.

His cheeks are red from a combination of the heat outside and his blistering anger.

When his breathing steadies, his eyes look around at the leather interior, not really focusing on it, concocting his plan instead.

He nervously takes the backwards baseball cap off his head, fingers running through his hair.

When he knows what he wants, he puts it back on his head, covering the dirty blond strands and quickly takes his phone out of his pocket.

Just as he pulls up Jake’s contact, his phone buzzes, his dad’s name flashing on the screen.

He hesitates for a second before hitting the red “ignore” button.

He fumbles with the letters on the keyboard, drafting his text.

He doesn’t know Jake as well as he knew Chase. He always knew Jake didn’t like him, preferring Chase’s friendship while working for Cameron Development.

Even if he doesn’t know Jake that well, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard the secret he tries his hardest to keep hidden.

For the last year, Jake has been sleeping with one of the secretaries, cheating on his wife over and over again.

So, if Jake wants to tell the island something damning about Rafe, he can play the same game.

That’s exactly what he puts in his text.

It only takes a few minutes for Jake to send one right back.

Rafe’s lips curve into a smirk, getting the answer he wanted.

His fingers lightly tap the wheel, impatiently waiting for Jake.

He’s late, saying he’d meet Rafe at the storage lockers 20 minutes ago.

An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as his head hits the headrest.

Rafe has made sure to text you that he’ll be out late with Topper and Kelce. He tries not to think too much about why you haven’t responded yet.

Maybe you’re busy, or tired.

There’s no way you know, he tells himself.

Last night’s events plague him again, and he can’t tell if he finds comfort or torment in them.

He got to you just in time, your head barely going underwater.

He was worried that might happen, letting you take a bath was probably a bad idea. He barged into the steamy bathroom, pulling you out of the warm water.

You were out like a light, not stirring at all as he made you comfortable in bed, drying you off.

He wasn’t sure how well the sedative he put in your wine would work.

But he was satisfied with the results.

As he stared at your unconscious naked body, looking peaceful in your slumber, he thought about how he was betraying you in the worst way possible.

If you ever found out, you would never trust him again.

But then he remembered what you told him.

He believed you could forgive him, maybe not at first, but eventually. That’s the type of person you are.

You’ll love him forever. You said it yourself.

He wouldn’t have had to do anything if you just saw things the way he did. If only you were on the same page as him.

His hungry eyes raked you over, taking in the valley between your breasts to the swell of your thighs.

The moonlight cascaded through the window onto your sleeping body, a blue tint lighting the room.

All he could hear is the whir of the ceiling fan, making the warm room cooler, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He lightly ran his fingertips along your thigh, feeling your soft skin, slowly inching closer to the heat of your core.

It felt wrong, forbidden, but it also gave him an excitement that coursed through his veins.

It was an adrenaline rush, that he could touch you no matter what, that you’re his to have and hold forever.

His fingers finally plunged into your warmth, feeling how you squeeze around them. The quietest breaths left your lips as he felt you start to soak his fingers.

He could feel his pants start to get tighter, needing to release himself.

So, he did just that.

He unbuttoned his shirt too, needing to join you in your bare state.

He settled above you, staring at you again. He was now at the point of no return. Any sort of voices that were in his head telling him to stop had vanished. Instead, all he could think about is how much he needed you.

He kneeled between your legs that he pulled open. He stroked himself a few times, his tip already leaking with pre-cum.

He didn’t waste a moment to push inside you, maneuvering your hips to meet his. He tried to be gentle, but as he felt you wrapped around him, he didn’t stop until he bottomed out, a groan falling from his lips.

He continued to thrust into you, his strong arms holding himself above you.

His blue gaze found where his cock was driving into you, watching through the darkness how you two connected with every snap of his hips.

It’s not just the way your cunt felt around him that kept his intense pace, it’s the way he finally felt like he could do what he wished with you. It was a part of marriage, a part of being his that he had been waiting for since you put on that diamond ring.

He didn’t think about how the strands of his hair fell onto your face as he rutted into you, hips slapping against yours. He could feel you clench around him, body responding to his movements, even when you were asleep.

He brought his lips to one of your nipples, sucking on the supple skin, hand on the other breast.

So lost in his pleasure, he didn’t notice how your eyelids started to flutter. You barely cracked them open, the figure on top of you still a blurry mess.

Even if you wanted to call out to the first person you could think of in your state of confusion and fear, you couldn’t.

All that came out of your throat was a struggled cry.

Rafe didn’t fully stop his thrusting, only hesitating for a second before continuing.

He watched you squint up at him, your face slightly twisting.

He brought his lips to your ear, shushing you, hot breath fanning over you.

“Relax, baby. It’s just me,” he whispered. Shaky breaths still fell from him, in between his cooing.

“You’re okay. You’re safe with me.”

He could see how your eyelids got too heavy again, having no choice but to fall back asleep.

Moments later, he felt your walls spasm around him, bringing you to your orgasm.

It pushed him further off the edge until his cock twitched inside you. He made sure to keep himself nestled deep inside you as his warm, sticky cum flooded you.

He stayed there for a little while, trying to catch his breath, making sure all his work isn’t for nothing.

Images of your stomach swelling with his baby flashed in his mind. A little Cameron made from both of you.

It doesn’t really matter the circumstances around how the baby was made.

He just wanted something to show your love for him. A living, breathing piece of your love that can make the two of you whole.

Why was that so hard for you?

After everything was said and done, he made sure to clean you up, wiping your thighs, getting you dressed.

No one would have known anything out of the ordinary had happened.

If he did everything he could, why weren’t you responding?

Before he thinks about calling you, he hears the roar of an engine die and a slam of a car door.

He can see Jake in his rearview mirror.

Before Rafe gets out, he quickly opens his glove box.

He tucks the gun in the back of his shorts, making sure his shirt covers the cold metal before stepping out of his truck.

Tags:

@fangirlwithlou @thebuttofcaptainamerica @lovedetlost @kkmstblog @whorefordrew @gillybear17 @alinaharlow @nichmeddar @coriellesmarya @rafeslovergirl @hysteriahall @loves0phelia @igotmessymind @djconde58 @imsorare @bbqsauceonmyt1tties @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @malfoytargaryen @craftyalmondghostflap @maggiecc @aofjdmsmodhf @fulla02

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist for this series!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader

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breannasfluff · 1 year

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fairy!! (Hyrule)

congrats on 500!!!!!!

“Wars? Can’t you teach me to sew?”

Hyrule glances up to watch Wild sit next to the captain, fabric in hand.

Warriors looks surprised as well, but puts aside the book he was reading. “Sure. What are you making?”

“Just need to learn some basic stitches.” The champion neatly avoids the question.

With a shrug, Warriors grabs the thread and string. “Ok, first you’re going to need to make a knot and…”

Hyrule rapidly loses interest in the description. He knows how to sew enough to mend rips, but not make new outfits. It’s too bad, because his fairy form is stuck with the same outfit time after time. While he can buy a new tunic, where is he going to get clothes sized for a fairy?

Still, it’s a silly need and Hyrule pushes it away. They’ve got bigger things to worry about.

Hyrule and Wild are wandering through the woods, enjoying both the peace and the time to explore. The champion keeps shooting him darting look; something clearly on his mind.

The traveler gives him a smile and lets him be. He’ll get to it when he’s ready.

“Hey, Roolie…” Well, he didn’t need to wait long at all. Wild stares at his slate screen, then finally taps it for something to materialize. “Here.”

“What?” He’s not expecting something small shoved into his hands.

Wild’s clearly embarrassed. “Sorry it’s not better quality.”

“Hey, let me actually look at the thing first.” Hyrule holds up the item, but can’t hold back a frown as he tries to figure it out. It’s a small tube with a little elastic on one side.

“Wow,” he says, because what in Hyrule is it?

“Oh, here’s the other part.” Wild passes over another piece of fabric.

Rather than help, this only adds to the confusion. It’s an even smaller tube, stretchy, with two long strips attached to one end.

Hyrule juggles the pieces before finally turning to Wild with a sheepish look. “Ok, I give up, can you explain it?”

If Wild was embarrassed before, he’s rapidly turning red as a tomato. “It’s…clothes.”

Clothes. Tiny…clothes? Why would Hyrule need–

“You know, for your fairy form. Thought you might like something new.”

Oh! Hyrule stares at the items in his hand again, mentally adjusting the size. He’s so used to his fae side being a secret that it never crossed his mind.

“You…you made me clothes? New clothes?”

Wild plucks the items back and holds them up for explanation. “This is a skirt. I know it’s simple but…I’m not great at sewing. And this is a top. See, the strips are so you can wrap it in different styles around your arms or neck. I saw it in Gerudo Town once and it seemed pretty cool.”

The rest of the explanation slowly fades away as Hyrule stares at the clothes. Wild…learned to sew…for him? The stitching isn’t perfect and the shapes are simple, but it doesn’t matter. Wild made something just for him, for a secret that no one else knows.

“Wild,” he interrupts whatever rambling story Wild has moved on to. Hyrule makes sure to catch his eye when he says, “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

The champion ducks his head with a shy smile. “Want to try them on?”

“Absolutely. Now give them here!”

#three sentence prompt #lu hyrule #lu wild #fae hyrule #fairy hyrule #linked universe #this got long but I couldn't resist #fae hyrule my beloved

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s0ftl3 · 10 months

Text

𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍

Warnings: slapping, begging, sub CEO! Ted, dom assistant! reader, exhibtionism? They fuck in a supply closet, brat! Ted.

People have always seemed to hold the opinion of you, that you’re domineering, someone who will take what they deserve. Which, is why it surprises everyone when you tell them your profession. You’re the assistant to an heir CEO, Ted Nivison, who, in your opinion, is spoiled, cocky, and overall needs to be put in his place, and you explain this to anyone who expresses confusion over your job status.

Your opinion of him never reigns more true now than ever. He’s sat at the bar of the venue, flirting with the bartender, when he should be talking with the branch leaders of his company. Sighing, you make your way over to your boss.” I apologize for interrupting you sir but, your peers would like to speak with their CEO.”

He turns on his stool, a shit-eating grin makes its way onto the young CEO’s face. “Are you sure you're not just jealous angel? Not just upset I’m giving somebody else my attention?” you scoff, he never learns, it seems. You would think after spending months of you working on this behavior of his, he’d no better than to speak to you this way. The bartender seems to notice she’s intruding on something and returns to her other customers.

You speak through gritted teeth, “I think you should go speak to your employees sir, now.” Though he can hear the frustration seeping through your voice, he wants to push your limits even further. He’s going to enjoy the outcome; he’s sure of it.

“Now why would I do that, I’m clearly enjoying a drink, sweetheart.” He emphasizes his words by taking a sip from the glass of whiskey he had ordered a few moments ago.

You’ve met your limit for tolerating his disrespect. You take the glass from his hand, slamming it onto the wooden bar, and grab Ted by his upper arm yanking him up. You swiftly make for the exit, after leaving enough money on the bar for his drink as well as a tip.

You pull him into a vacant room just outside the banquet hall. After, ensuring the door was locked you turned to Ted, who had a look of disbelief on his face. “God, you’re so fucking infuriating,” you rant. His face quickly turns to one of disappointment.

“I thought you brought me in here to fuck me, not yell at me-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before, he’s cut off by a sharp sting across his cheek. He gawks at you; his face shows shock but, the front of his dress slacks show you he’s enjoying this.

“Did you just fucking slap me?” He was still in shock but couldn’t deny that it turned him on beyond belief.

“I did, and I suggest if you want me to do anything else for you, you’ll start acting like a good boy and do what I tell you.” You say as you shove him up against the wall of what you now realize is a rather spacious supply closet. Then and there Ted felt a good chunk of his resolve leave him. He wants you to hit him again, but he’s not ready to completely hand himself over to you.

Regardless, he wants you to take care of the rather big problem you’ve caused for him, so he nods. That’s not good enough for you though, no, you want to hear him tell you that he wants you. You want to hear him tell you all the things he wants you to do to him. “I need words ted, want you to tell me how sorry you are.” your hand is hovering over where he needs it the most and he just wants you to stop teasing.

“Fuck, okay I'm sorry alright, I’ll be good I promise.” for not wanting to show you how desperate he is, he doesn’t do a good job of not letting it seep into his voice. You don’t like the attitude but you’ll take it given your time constraints.

You undo the buckle of his belt, quickly discarding the offending item to the floor his pants pool at his thighs as well as his briefs. You begin to sink to your knees before a grabs your shoulder, holding you in place. You look up at him in confusion, as you wait for an explanation. “Can we skip that part, for now, I just,” he pauses, he’s not used to having to ask for what he wants, yes you’ve been teaching him his place beneath you, but he usually just takes what he's given. This time though, he doesn’t think he has it in him to last long enough through all the foreplay. That slap did a number on him.

“I just need to be in you right now.” You smirk at that, it didn’t take long to break him down it seems. Though if you’re being fair he hasn’t been hard to break down like this for a while.

“Oh you poor thing, well, you know how to ask for what you want don't you?” You pout up at him with faux sympathy.

He does know how to ask but he never fails to be embarrassed about it, but if he wants any chance of cumming he has to say it. “Please, Mommy.” You smile bringing yourself up off your knees.

“You’re such a good boy for me Teddy, just for mommy right baby?” you mentally thank yourself for wearing a short dress tonight, because the moment you called him a good boy, Ted was pushing you up against the nearest surface, pulling your panties off. Normally, you’d scold him for being so desperate and impatient but you’re keeping in mind he is essentially the host of this banquet, and sooner or later someone’s going to come looking for him.

He can’t help the whine that rips its way out of his throat when his cock slides through your folds with little to no resistance because of how wet you are. Finally, he pushes his entire length inside of you, mind too cloudy to realize or truly care, all he can think about is how tight you are around him.

He already feels like he’s teetering on the edge, but he wants to make you feel good, he needs you to praise him. He needs you to tell him he’s your good boy; that no one else can make you feel as good as he does. He starts a slow pace, taking his time and pulling out until nothing but the tip remains inside you, then snapping his hips forward harshly. He keeps this pace for a few moments before it switches to a much more brutal one. Thrusts go from slow but harsh strokes to quick sharp ones. He feels so fucking good but he needs more.

He needs you to hit him again.

“y/n, please.” He’s too overwhelmed with pleasure to get any more than that out, another whine finding itself replacing his words. You’re shocked you’re even able to comprehend what he’s saying to you, he’s fucking you so rough, and every breath of yours is accompanied by a high-pitched moan.

“Tell me what you want Teddy.” You’re clinging to his shoulders for dear life, as his thrusts show no sign of slowing down.

“Hit me, please.” as the plea leaves his lips he feels another sharp sting across the other cheek. He can’t help the way his vision goes white, and the way his hips still, as he coats your walls in thick cum. His grip on your waist gets impossibly tighter as his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The moan that leaves his mouth when he comes is most heavenly in your opinion.

It takes a moment for his mind to return to earth and when he does he’s embarrassed; he’s never cum so quickly in the months he’s been with you. Though to you, it was so fucking hot; he came from you slapping him, hard. You’re running your fingers through his hair telling him he was so good for you.

Eventually, you convince him to clothe himself,

so that you can return to the banquet, his guests are waiting after all. What his guests don’t know though is that whilst you’re fraternizing, their CEO’s cum is slowly dripping down your thigh.

#chuckle sandwich smut #ted nivison smut #chuckle sandwich #ted nivison #chuckle sammy #ted nivison x reader #x reader #afab reader

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lovingperfectionsblog · 2 years

Text

Tout

Pierre Gasly x Reader

Summary: Pierre needs help writing a love letter.

Warnings: Language, little bit of drinking mention.

Word Count: 2402

Authors note: I am so sorry this took so long, there has been so much going on my side. I hope it is okay and I can’t wait to hear what you all think 

_____

“Open up!” Charles knew Pierre was hiding behind the hotel door, but he wasn’t letting his friend miss out on another night of drinks with the other drivers, “Come and get drinks with us mate!”

His knocking was incessant.

“I am busy Charles!” Pierre looked as frustrated as he sounded, pulling the door open so quickly that Charles was momentarily concerned it may come off its hinges, “no drinks tonight, not until I’m done.” Offering no further explanation as he retreated back into his room, closing the door behind him as he left.

Charles braced his hand against the closing door and followed Pierre in, gearing up to argue with him about having to take a break from work and try and convince his friend that this is what they all needed after the abysmal season so far, but instead he was stopped mid thought when he saw Pierre’s bed, littered with crumpled up papers, notepad abandoned amongst them and a very distressed looking Pierre sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“Mate, what’s going on?” it was only when Pierre briefly looked up to his friend that he noticed the very small sliver on a tear beginning to brim, “Shit, are you okay?” Charles stood awkwardly, unsure of what was happening, but sure that if it was enough to make Pierre cry it was bound to be awful.

“She’s going to leave me” Pierre hated saying it, but he knew this was exactly where it was headed.

“What do you mean she’s going to leave you?” you could absolutely not, by any means, leave Pierre. Charles knew how in love Pierre was with you, he was absolutely smitten, spoke about you like you were there goddess of love herself and he would be devasted if he lost you.

“We got into this massive fight before I left for the race and she basically just said she feels like I don’t actually love her because I never open up to her and she feels like she’s just there as some sort of entertainment for me,” Pierre paused, the entire fight replaying in his mind, “I made the woman I love with every ounce of my being, question if I actually did because I am so emotionally stunted I cannot open up and be vulnerable, God I am a dogshit boyfriend” Pierre felt sick at the thought of viewing you as nothing other than a little play thing for himself when in reality he would willing give up his soul in order to keep you if that’s what it took, “So I’m trying to write her a letter, to like, try and explain to her what she means to me, but I just, I’m not even sure the words have been invented yet for what I feel for her and I just, I’m clearly a fucking idiot”, Pierre was suddenly angry, now pacing up and down in front of Charles as he continued venting about his incapability to be a decent boyfriend, “why the fuck can I not just write a letter to the woman I plan on marrying telling her that I love her more than life itself?”

The look he was given Charles made him confused if it was a question he was actually meant to answer or if it was rhetorical.

“Okay, wait, why don’t you just tell her what you’ve literally been telling all of us since the moment you met her?” this was a no brainer to Charles, this is an issue that could be sorted out within 30 minutes, and they would be back down in the bar with their mates in no time.

“Because I look at her and my brain doesn’t work and I thought it was all going fine and she like, knew how I felt, you know?” Clearly Pierre was wrong about you knowing anything about how he felt about you.

“Well, how is she meant to know how you feel if you don’t tell her?” considering how Pierre looked like he was about to slaughter Charles, that was probably definitely the wrong thing to say, “Okay, so, letter, yes, writing a letter, how far have you gotten?”

Pierre wordlessly handed Charles the note pad and he began to read over what was already written.

“You think it’s awful” Pierre had been watching Charles read the poem, face grimacing every other line at the poorly worded letter.

“No, no, it’s good”.

It wasn’t.

“You hate it, which means she is going to hate it” Pierre was beginning to resign himself to a single man. He didn’t deserve someone like you if he couldn’t even be vulnerable and open with you about how he felt.

“I don’t hate it”

He hated it.

“You’re making a face!”

“What face?”

“That fucking face!” Pierre mimicked Charles face as he was reading the letter.

Charles was definitely making that face.

“I just think maybe we relook at parts of it?” Charles was already suggesting, coming up with significantly more eloquent ways of wording all of it.

“Yeah? What parts?” Pierre sounded hopeful for a moment, maybe he hadn’t completely ruined it all with you just yet.

“Like, maybe, like, all, all of it” Charles tried, he really tried but God, they were going to have to scrap this entire thing, start right from the beginning again, “I’m just going to call the boys, let them know what the plans are okay”

“I mean, don’t tell them all of it, just tell them we aren’t going to make it to drinks” Pierre was eternally thankful for the help his friend was offering him.

Charles was definitely telling them all of it.

_____

“This is what you were planning on giving her?” George was shocked, out of all of them, he definitely assumed Pierre was one who was able to be a little bit more poetic when it came to the woman he loves, but this was, this was not good at all.

“Listen, how honest do you want us to be?” Lando didn’t know how kind he was expected to be here, but my god, this was awful.

“Charles already made it clear that it wasn’t good, thanks mate” Pierre let out a groan, falling backwards on the bed as the other five drivers all stood scattered around the room.

“I mean, we can call it what it is, dogshit” Max only just dodged the punch to his arm that was sent by Charles in defence of his friend.

“And Y/n said she is going to leave you?” Carlos was trying to fully understand the entire situation, still unsure of what was going on.

“She didn’t say she was going to leave him” Charles tried to summarize what Pierre had explained to him over and over again as they waited for the others to join them upstairs.

“It was just heavily implied that she might not be at home when I got there” every single one of the boys’ eyes shifted to Pierre, the fear evident in his voice.

“You have to rewrite this” a seriousness overtook George, suddenly determined to make sure that Pierre did not mess this up.

“Yes, that’s pretty fucking evident George, but as we have established, I am pretty, what, horseshit-”

“Dogshit” Max immediately interrupted Pierre.

“Dogshit at it” Pierre nodded at Max, sarcastically thanking him for his correction.

“That’s why we are here to help” Charles was trying to boost morale over the entire situation.

“Who wouldn’t want a love letter written by a bunch of drunk men and someone who is emotionally constipated” Lando shot the group a thumbs up, although not a single ounce of sarcasm was laced in his voice, truly believing himself that this may potentially end up being the greatest love letter ever written.

Pierre sat staring at all his friends, a bewildered expression on his face, “She’s going to fucking leave me.”

“No, no, this is fine, we just,” George ripped out the page and tossed it in the bin as he made his way to the small desk that occupied the room, assigning himself the duty of scribe, convinced out of all of them his handwriting may be the only real legible one, “we start off slow”.

“Yes! Slow, simple!” Carlos was now standing, pacing the room as he thought, conjuring every ounce of his Spanish passion that he had been imbued with since birth, “My dearest- what do you call her?”

“Y/n?” Pierre wasn’t sure how to answer this question, but he quickly assumed he had answered incorrectly as a pillow was thrown in his direction and a chorus of ‘No’s” were flung at him simultaneously.

“You call the love of your life by her first name?” Charles now understood why Pierre was slowly losing hope of you staying with him.

“Oh, uhm, I call her tout” Pierre blushed at the admission, Charles having to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling over how fucking cute that was.

“Okay, fuck, yeah, that’s cute, start the letter as tout only” Charles began curating the letter, already feeling good about where it was going.

“What does tout mean?” Lando asked what the others were thinking, also wanting to be let in on the whatever cuteness Charles was talking about.

“Everything” Pierre whispered.

“What the fuck, where did that come from?” Carlos was sure he couldn’t even have come up with something like that.

“Well, that’s what she is to me, the beginning and the end and every second in between, she is everything” Pierre shrugged, not aware of the power of what he just so casually said.

“Why do you need help writing this letter mate?” Lando spoke on behalf of everyone in the room, because, shit, if someone had said something like that about him, he would fucking melt.

“Because evidently he cannot write a decent paragraph that puts a sentence like that in it without somehow botching it” Charles brain was now working overtime, trying to figure out a way to start putting the first paragraph down, “Now, what should we say?”

And so, the evening went, ideas being thrown in and out, vetoing sentences that Lando tried to sneak in there, genuinely hurt when nearly every single good line he had was excluded, to such an extent that Pierre ended up insisting they put at least one in, his friends smile a guarantee that he wouldn’t complain anymore after that.

------

“We cannot have another line about how she takes his breath away, at this point this is basically a confession that he’s being suffocated” Charles tried to argue.

“Suffocated by her love!” George defended.

“That does not sound like a good thing” Carlos had drifted off into space, picturing you choking Pierre, a small giggle leaving him as he did, the sight supremely funny in his drunken state.

“What if!” Lando began before silence overtook the entire room, waiting for him to continue, “Okay, yes, what if we like spoke about her looks for a second, girls love being told they are pretty don’t they?” He waited for a round of nods before continuing, “So we talk about how you get lost in those eyes of hers and how you have to contain yourself when you catch a glimpse of her hourglass figure and how you can feel the goosebumps on your skin when you hear her say your name” there was suddenly a far-away look in his eyes, all of the drivers glancing at each other, silently agreeing that he was speaking from what seemed a very personal perspective, “lando” all though that last part was a whisper, all of them had clearly heard him.

“Uhm, so, you’re not allowed to partake anymore” Charles had decided on behalf of all of them, and honestly, Lando should be thankful it was Charles instead of Pierre putting his foot down, because the way Pierre was suddenly looking at him, one more comment and he was a dead man.

“Okay, but maybe we should stop here, this is already 6 pages long and I think we may be waffling at this point” George tried to conclude this, despite being proud of all of it, at some point, words lose their power when there are too many of them.

“6 fucking pages?” Max was shocked, he might not know much about all of this, but he knew that was too many fucking words, haphazardly thrown on those pages, no matter how hard they had tried, “too long, there is no way she’s taking in any of that”.

They were defeated, each and every one of them, all running out of steam the later the evening got, and the more alcohol they got into their system.

“We need to make her see how important she is, but in significantly less words, you got to dig deep my friend, in your soul, share it all with her” Carlos was nearly pleading at this point, desperate to get to bed.

Silence took over as Pierre absorbed what Carlos had said.

‘In your soul’

“I have it” Pierre was snatching the note pad before any of them could even react, turning to a new page and scribbling down the few words he was sure would save everything, would save himself, all the other boys craning their necks to look what he wrote.

Finishing the short letter quickly, he turned to the rest of them, holding the letter up for them to all deny or approve, a chorus of “fucking finally” and “well done, it’s perfect” falling from all their lips.

“Think it will be enough?” Pierre was insecure, asking Charles his honest opinion once all the other boys had left his hotel room in search of their own beds, but he knew this was the truth, this was him opening up the barest part of him in the hopes you would understand how he truly felt about you.

“If that isn’t enough, I have no idea what would ever work”

------

Tout

I searched for the right words to adequately express how much you mean to me, how deeply I love you.

I ripped apart my very soul to find them and instead what I found in there, all that existed in there, from the beginning to the end and all the seconds between, was one thing.

You.

-Forever Yours

#Pierre Gasly x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #pierre gasly #max verstappen #pierre gasly x you #x reader #pierre gasly fic #Lando Norris #Carlos Sainz Jr

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some-little-infamy · 8 days

Text

Nostalgic for Disaster

(Read on AO3)

Eddie made a mistake.

Okay, Eddie made a series of mistakes, one terrible choice after another that brought him to this moment, the culmination of a day’s worth of regrets.

The first one was going back to look at the woman from the shop, Kim. The second was talking to her, and the third was flirting with her. The fourth was inviting her to dinner, and the fifth was actually going. He supposes there’s a sixth in there, arguably the worst of them all - ignoring the way that seeing Kim brings back such visceral memories of Shannon.

The longer this dinner goes on, the stronger those flashes of memory become. Sometimes it’s a smile, or the glint of Kim’s eyes. Her mannerisms and speech cadence are completely different, but that doesn’t stop Eddie from latching onto every minute similarity.

The more he does, the more guilty he feels about it - about being here with Kim for all the wrong reasons. He’s in a relationship, one committed enough that they nearly moved in together. And he lied to Christopher and Buck about who he was going out with, more or less. He never said it was with Marisol, but obviously they assumed, and he didn’t correct them.

So Eddie orders a drink with dinner - a strong one. And then a second with appetizers, a third with the entree, and two more before dessert and the check comes.

He isn’t sure he’s getting what he wants out of this. All he’s done is spiral, too busy clinging to a lost past to properly enjoy the conversation he’s having, even if he smiles and laughs in all the right places.

“Do you need a ride home?” Kim asks at the end of the night. Six words and Eddie knows that whatever he thinks he’s doing here isn’t working. She must sense his distance and distraction, or maybe it’s the way his words are starting to slur now, eyes glazing over from the liquor.

He’s about to agree when he thinks through what that would mean. He’s going to need to get his car the next day, which he’d have to explain to Buck when he drops off Christopher… which is if he can even keep Christopher overnight. Eddie only asked about a few hours…

“No. I can…” he trails off, trying to think through the slight haze around his thoughts. “I’ll get a ride.” “I’ll wait with you until it comes,” Kim says. It isn’t a question, and Eddie doesn’t argue, though it limits his options to an uber that he can’t afford (going to a restaurant way outside of town and away from anyone who may recognize him seemed like a good idea at the time), or a favor from a friend who may or may not keep this secret for him.

Well, what’s one more questionable decision to tack onto the list.

Eddie hits two buttons on his phone and waits.

“Tommy? Hey. I need a favor.”

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

Tommy pulls up half an hour later, window rolled down, the upper half of his body leaning out the window to chastise Eddie the second he hits the brakes.

“I know the helicopter ride was my idea, but I’m going to have to start charging you if you make a habit out of-” Tommy starts, but trails off seeing the woman standing behind Eddie with her arm around his waist. Tommy doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to - his look says it all.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Eddie manages. He’s starting to sober up a bit, the air from waiting outside helping. “Sorry.”

“I offered to take him home myself but he was very insistent on calling you,” the woman adds, sounding confused, as if she hopes saying it out loud will get an explanation as to why from either of the men.

It doesn’t.

“I’ll, uh, text you later. It was really good to see you Sha… Kim,” Eddie hopes the name slip comes across as nothing more than a drunken stumble.

“Get home safe,” she replies, something safe and noncommittal. Eddie doesn’t blame her. Eddie doesn’t blame anyone other than himself.

Once she’s sure Eddie can manage the walk to the passenger side of Tommy’s car on his own Kim turns to leave, and he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to see her again.

Eddie gets into the car, buckles, and focuses on a few deep breaths to stop the swirling surroundings once the truck starts moving. They drive in silence for thirty seconds… a full minute… two minutes…

“So,” Tommy starts finally. “You gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“I got too drunk to drive home,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, that bit is pretty obvious. I mean the part where you were on a date with someone who isn’t Marisol.” Tommy keeps his eyes on the road ahead while he speaks, probably more for Eddie’s benefit than his own. “That I’m guessing Evan doesn’t know about since you called me instead of him.”

“Evan’s watching Christopher…” Eddie tries to deflect.

“So Evan knows?” Tommy re-words, not giving Eddie the easy out.

“No,” Eddie admits, turning his head to look out the passenger window. “I’m not cheating, you know. It isn’t like we’re…” “Living together? You were about a week ago, so it isn’t like you two aren’t serious. Too serious to be sneaking around behind her back with another woman, I’m guessing, which is why you felt the need to hide it.”

“I know. It’s also why I ended up drinking my way through dinner,” Eddie sighs. “It was a mistake.”

“Glad you know that,” Tommy says. “If you don’t want to be with her, just tell her. Don’t do… whatever this is. Neither of you deserve that.”

It isn’t judgy. Tommy, bless him, isn’t like that - at least not with Eddie. What Tommy’s good at is being honest in a way that doesn’t pull any punches but also doesn’t deal any low blows.

There’s more silence after that. Eddie doesn’t have a response. He isn’t sure Tommy’s looking for one. They’re a few minutes away from Eddie’s place when Tommy finally talks again.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” Tommy asks. When Eddie looks over to him with a rueful half-smile, Tommy sighs. “I’m your plan for tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“Please?” Eddie practically begs. “I’ll pay for gas. You can even stay here for the night, so you don’t have to drive back and forth.”

“I take it that means you don’t plan on telling Evan?” Tommy questions.

Eddie frowns. “Are you going to tell him?” It comes out more pleading than questioning, praying Tommy can keep this one thing from Buck.

“I’m not going to lie to him,” Tommy starts slowly. “But, I won’t offer the information. If he doesn’t ask, I won’t tell.”

Eddie considers arguing the point, but honestly, it’s a better deal than he deserves.

“And what about the ride back?” Eddie asks, feeling like he’s pushing his luck.

“I get the bed,” Tommy replies without hesitation. “And you seriously consider telling Evan about this on your own. He’s your best friend, and you obviously have some things to talk through.”

Eddie sighs. “Deal.”

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

Eddie spends half the night sick to his stomach from the alcohol, going back and forth from the sofa to the bathroom at least half a dozen times. If it keeps Tommy up he doesn't say anything about it when he gently shakes Eddie awake at the crack of dawn to go get Eddie's car before it gets towed.

“Thanks again, Tommy. I don't know what came over me yesterday.” It's only a half-lie. Eddie might know what came over him, but he doesn't understand it.

Tommy spares him any further chastising. “Take care of yourself, Eddie,” is all he says before driving off, leaving Eddie with a long car ride back in the morning traffic rush to sit with his own thoughts and the events of the past 24 hours.

He's no better off when he gets to Buck's than he was when Tommy left him.

“Looks like someone had a long night,” Buck greets with a smirk.

“You can say that again,” Eddie mutters, but his frown quickly turns to a grin aa he walks in to the sight of Christopher with whipped cream on the corner of his mouth, a plate of half-eaten waffles in front of him.

“Those look like they're more dessert than breakfast,” Eddie observes, eyeing the chocolate syrup they're slathered with.

“Waffles are breakfast, dad,” Christopher insists, as if this fact is too obvious to be questioned. The ‘duh’ isn't spoken but heavily implied by his tone.

“Of course. Sorry I dared to question you.”

“So I guess not living together is working out for you two,” Buck says, and Eddie tenses. Every word Buck says hits like a punch to the gut at the secret he's keeping and how every word Eddie speaks feels like a lie even when it isn't.

He gets how Buck could only live with the guilt of keeping his own secret for a day before needing to come clean and tell Eddie - this is torture.

It's entirely self-inflicted torture at that. Eddie may believe he deserves it, but Buck certainly doesn't deserve the deceit, especially since he's the one being nice enough to watch Christopher while Eddie is out losing his goddamn mind, apparently.

“Hey Christopher, why don't you play some video games when you're done eating until it's time to go?” Eddie suggests.

Christopher agrees eagerly, rushing his last bites to ensure as much gaming time as possible before Eddie changes his mind.

Buck raises an eyebrow. Eddie nods back towards Buck’s bedroom and the two silently slip away from the distracted Christopher, Eddie shutting the door behind him.

Buck doesn't ask what's wrong, waiting for Eddie to initiate whatever conversation he needs to have here. If only Eddie knew what that was.

He figures he should start with the truth.

“I wasn’t with Marisol.”

Eddie waits, watching Buck absorbing that statement, his face shifting from confusion to worry, eyeing Eddie up and down, his gaze lingering on any exposed skin.

“You're not fighting again, ah, are you?” Buck asks.

“What? No! Of course not,” Eddie reassures him, that potentiality never even crossing his mind.

Buck relaxes for just a second, not bothering to hide the relief that answer gives him.

“Who were you with?” Buck asks. Eddie sees how hard he’s trying to sound neutral, simply curious rather than concerned, though it shows through the cracks all the same. “Her name is Kim,” Eddie says.

“...okay.” Buck says, understanding slowly dawning on him as he processes.

“It was just dinner,” Eddie’s quick to say.

“Was it a date?” Buck asks.

“It was a mistake,” Eddie says, not directly answering Buck’s question. “Nothing happened.”

“But you wanted it to.”

It isn’t a question, and Eddie doesn’t volunteer an answer.

“Why? I know things were rough with the nun stuff, and the moving in, but I thought you two were past that.”

“We were - we are.” “Okay,” Buck starts again slowly. “Then… why?”

A great question, Eddie thinks to himself.

If anyone is going to understand, if anyone is going to get it, it’s Buck. Buck is his best friend. Buck is the person Eddie’s trusted with not only his own life, but Christopher’s. So it seems fitting that he trust Buck with this, too.

“She looks like Shannon,” Eddie says, the confession barely above a whisper.

Buck freezes, sensing the dangerous waters this conversation is entering. “Eddie…” “If I didn’t know any better…” Eddie’s suddenly far away, remembering how it felt to sit across from her at dinner. He’s too distracted by a mixture of mourning and longing to notice Buck’s look shift to proper worry. “Being with her is just… I can’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away. It’s like she never left.”

“But she did, Eddie. She died,” Buck reminds him gently, as if he could ever forget.

Except he can, when he's with Kim. It's like the accident never happened at times.

“I know that. I know it isn’t her… but it’s the closest I’ve felt to her since she left. It’s like… it’s like part of her is still here. Like she never left. ” Eddie hears how desperate he sounds now that he says it out loud, his words laced with an underlying tremor as he speaks. “I don’t want to lose her again.” A tear escapes Eddie’s rapidly blinking eyes, unable to keep down the swell of emotion that rises up with the admission.

“Hey, hey,” Buck says, wrapping an arm around Eddie. “She isn’t Shannon. Whatever feelings you have when you, you're with this woman, they’re from your memories. You haven’t lost them.”

Eddie’s breathing comes short and sharp, and he has to focus very hard to even it back out, staving off his rising panic.

“You can’t keep seeing her just to remember Shannon. It, it isn’t fair to you, or her… or to Marisol,” Buck adds.

Eddie fights the urge to grow defensive, to insist he hasn’t hurt anyone other than himself, but after a moment seems to deflate in on himself. “I know.”

“I know,” Eddie repeats, not sure who he's trying to convince more - Buck, or himself.

#911 abc #911 on abc #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 spoilers #911 coda fic #cheating #(if we consider a date with no kiss cheating) (and if we're assuming Eddie and Marisol are meant to be exclusive)#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #Eddie/Marisol #BuckTommy #Eddie/Kim #A bit of Eddie introspection before the next episode when I'm about to be so on my Bobby bullshit

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defectivevillain · 2 years

Text

same old mistakes

pairing: James Potter x reader

summary: James is smitten with Lily. At least, that’s what he thinks. When he finds himself being tutored by you, Lily’s best friend, James starts to question his feelings.

reader’s pronouns: he/him

James didn’t realize just how much his gaze wandered from the redheaded girl to the person at her side- you. He didn’t realize just how much he awaited your eyes on his, longing for your attention. He didn’t realize his feelings for you until it was far, far too late to go back. This is how James Potter finds himself sitting across from you in the library, his heart racing out of his chest.

“Where’s Lily?” James asks hesitantly. He's not even sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply raise an eyebrow at him, looking incredibly amused at his dismay. This only makes his heart race even more.

“She’s busy,” you reply vaguely, not wanting to detail the real reason why Lily isn't tutoring the boy. You lost the bet you made with her, after all, so now you’re paying the price. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Sorry,” James grimaces, getting out his Charms textbook. He is surprisingly decent at Charms, despite everyone else’s preconceptions. In fact, the only reason he was taking Charms tutoring lessons in the first place was because of Lily. And now, she’s not even here. He sighs very loudly. Is there any way to get out of this?

“Don’t even try it.” “I wasn’t doing anything,” James squints at you, surprised at how quickly you caught on to his incoming thoughts of mischief. You simply stare back at him, raising your eyebrows as if inviting him to continue explaining himself. James doesn’t bother.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, absentmindedly tapping your quill against your notes. “You probably have the Marauders on speed dial... Oh. Sorry, it’s a Muggle reference.” You add on at the end, noticing his confusion. You pinch the bridge of your nose, evidently summoning the patience you need for tutoring. James’s heart is hammering in his chest, as he struggles to think of a way to purposefully be bad at something. He’s never had to do it before.

“Okay, so, what are you struggling with?” You’re staring at him with open eyes and he can’t find an explanation. His thoughts are blurred and convoluted, and he can't think of what to say. Why is this happening?! He always managed to make something up in front of Lily. He frowns to himself, entirely unaware that you are beginning to understand his motive for these tutoring sessions. “Oh. You’re not struggling with anything, are you? You just pretend so that you can see Lily.”

“No, that’s not-” “Save it,” you shake your head in disbelief, packing up your books. There’s a frustrated expression on your face and you bite your lip as you finish putting everything away. James remains silent as you do so, entirely unsure of how to salvage the situation. “Well, thanks for wasting my time.” You get up and walk away. James tries to call your name, but you don't respond. You turn the corner and James promptly deflates, putting his head on the library table dejectedly.

James is rather depressed for the rest of the day. Even the very tempting offer to put Dungbombs under the tables in the Great Hall isn’t enough to cheer him up, to the Marauders’ surprise. Sirius tries to ask him about whatever’s troubling him, but he eventually gives up after James refuses to talk. Remus and Peter give him more space, patting him on the shoulder and assuring him that they’re there for him if needed.

It isn’t until he’s walking towards the Great Hall the next morning that he begins to realize the ramifications of what he’s done. James doesn’t even get the chance to take one step into the hall before he’s being dragged to the side by a familiar, yet very angry looking, redhead.

“What did you do, Potter?” Lily hisses. He stammers out objections, but they fall entirely flat when faced with the girl’s menacing glare. “I ought to hex you right now.”

“I didn’t do anything... much,” James grimaces, glancing around her shoulder at the Great Hall. He looks around the space, but he doesn’t see you anywhere. Guilt settles heavily in his stomach, even more so when Lily levels him with a malicious glare.

“He’s very upset,” Lily frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. James feels like a right prat now. “After all, you completely wasted his time. You do realize he had to miss Quidditch practice just to tutor you, right?”

“What- why?”

“Merlin, Potter, you’re a mess,” Lily sighs, putting her head in her hands for a brief moment. When she tilts her head back up to look at him, she looks to be a strange mix of irritated and exasperated. “He lost our bet so he had to tutor you.”

“Why was tutoring me part of your bet in the first place?” James squints at her. He’s vaguely aware that, throughout their entire conversation, he hasn't felt nervous once. It’s a bit strange. He thought that even speaking to Lily for as long as he is would incite some feeling in him, but he seems to be distracted by other things, or, more accurately, other people. “What if I genuinely needed help with Charms?”

“But you didn’t, did you?” Lily snaps, her frustration quickly growing. “You were just pretending so that you could talk to me. Merlin, you’re such a prat. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“Wait- what who sees in me?” James asks, unable to hide the hope from his voice.

“Never mind,” Lily sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. For a moment, James thinks her irritation is waning. The moment he thinks so, of course, she is off on another tangent. “Now, thanks to you, my best friend won’t even talk to me. So, thank you, really. I’m glad you decided to lie to me instead of just telling me the truth.” Lily walks away, her hair swishing as she makes her way to the Great Hall. James watches her leave, a strange feeling in his chest. He just had a full conversation with Lily Evans, for the first time, and he didn’t feel... anything. For a long moment, he stands at the entrance to the Great Hall, entirely frozen. Then, a sudden clarity overrides his thoughts. He knows what he needs to do.

As James walks closer to your seat, you eventually meet his gaze by accident and glance away. James sighs, steeling his nerves before walking up to you. “Hey,” he remarks casually.

“Yes?” you ask, your head tilted down to look at an essay. You look up, evidently to greet the newcomer, and your posture stiffens. “Oh, Potter.”

“I’m sorry,” James says. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize that you had to miss practice just to tutor me.”

“What?” you ask, your confusion quickly morphing into something else upon hearing the latter half of his sentence. The light in your eyes completely fades. James wants to hit himself. How could he have messed up an apology?! “Oh, that’s what this is about. Yeah, whatever.”

“No, that’s- Merlin, sorry, I’m shit at this,” James stumbles, itching the back of his neck. He’s vaguely aware of the Marauders burning holes into his back with their gazes, but he ignores it and tries to continue. “I just mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, some of your wariness beginning to fade. Your gaze flits about the hall as if not wanting to settle on him, James notices. He takes a deep breath.

“Um, I was thinking,” James breaks off, wincing at how nervous he sounds. He’s certain he’s never sounded this foolish before. He wouldn’t be surprised if his voice cracked in the middle of his next sentence. “Do you want to maybe... actually study together? We do have that History of Magic exam tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” you answer, a smile growing on your face. James feels his cheeks flush for some unknown reason, and he hurriedly shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s a rather lame attempt at maintaining his dignity, but it’s an attempt nonetheless.

“Sweet, see you then.” James says, turning on his heel and walks back towards the Marauders, who are now making kissy-faces at him. Well, at least, Sirius is. Remus looks mildly amused and Peter doesn't seem to be paying attention to anything other than the food on his plate. James shakes his head in disbelief, closing the distance between them and sitting down next to Sirius.

“So, it went well?” Peter questions, just barely pausing for a moment to speak before stuffing food in his mouth again. Remus’s eyebrows furrow at the display, and Sirius claps Peter on the shoulder and mutters something about breaking his record.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” James remembers to ask.

“You just have a stupid expression on your face,” Sirius supplied, waving at his face vaguely. James rolls his eyes and elbows him in the side. Sirius exaggeratedly falls onto the empty bench on the other side of him, bringing a hand to his side and bemoaning the pain.

“Well, I don’t really care, as long as I can be best man at the wedding,” Remus shrugs, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. He appears to be entirely unbothered by the whole exchange, in typical Remus fashion. James finds himself appreciating the boy a bit more. He is about to agree with the idea when he’s suddenly interrupted. “What?” Sirius gasps, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. His outburst is rather louder than intended, and several people swivel around to look at the commotion. “No way, I’m the best man!” “You can all be the best man,” James says placatingly. “The best men, obviously.” He takes a sip of the juice from his own goblet, before looking over to you again. There’s a soft smile on your face as you talk with your housemates, and James feels a grin of his own forming.

“Merlin, you’re hopeless,” Remus sighs. Sirius and Peter nod in agreement, but James can't be bothered to be embarrassed. Not when he has a study session with you to look forward to.

#James potter x reader #James potter x male reader #x male reader #x reader #marauders #marauders era #hp #hp x male reader

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hopefull-mindset · 5 months

Text

Labeling it as Abuse Doesn’t Make Sense, Sorry

(Had to unfortunately repost because Tumblr was broken)

In my huge overview of the abuse in BSD, I went over the relationships between the director and Atsushi in both Beast and the main story, as well as Dazai and Akutagawa. Then I went over the Port Mafia’s environment and Kyouka’s abuse being more than just Akutagawa’s doing, fundamentally being structural abuse within a community that condones abuse as a way to teach their subordinates. I went into that frustrated and fed up with how people view abuse, trying my best to go over things people misunderstood the most about how the narrative handled them.

There was one outlier in this discussion, one I was absolutely prepared to have more to speak about, but went out of it confused and underwhelmed because it ended up not being an abusive dynamic. You noticed, right? I didn't mention Mori and Dazai because there was barely anything there to say it was abusive. I still, of course, went over it in my post because still, the point was to go over the misunderstandings. Looking back at that section though, I think I did a poor job really explaining why abuse as a label here doesn't work.

I kept saying that I “didn’t understand why people thought this” and that it “didn't make logical sense for Mori to do certain things” because I thought it was incredibly obvious as someone who has went back and read their scenes together again. I thought that my explanation was enough after all my points I made before that section, but maybe I've underestimated how much this fandom conflated how much evidence they have to say this after reading posts about it.

Do not conflate me saying “its not abusive” to “it didn't have any psychological effect on Dazai”. You can have a messed up relationship with an adult and is not fit to be labeled abusive. I don't regret how I talked about it, I regret not going over how fanon this actually is and expressing my confusion deeper. It's been eating at me and I don't want to overuse the talking point of abuse, but I felt like it. I needed a break from the Oda Sakunosuke research exhaustion.

I don’t want to be a pity party, but as a victim myself, I’m a little aggravated at how loosely “abuse” has been used. I already went over what abuse is in the original post, and I just don’t get what people are seeing when they claim Mori abused him. I'm curious as to why fans are so quick to the take. Is it because they want some unconscious reason as to why Dazai chose to abuse Akutagawa? Is it because since they see the narrative parallels between them and Kyouka, then that must mean Mori had abused Dazai? Strange.

It's popular to compare Yosano’s past circumstances to Dazai’s, and you can see why at a glance. Both are brought into circumstances that are not ideal for a child by Mori, the opposite Demon/Angel motif, have some similarities to Mori himself, and… that's kind of it? Because Mori doesn't treat them the same way and that changes way more than you think it really does about how you label this. Circumstantially, she has more in common with Kyouka and Chuuya, back when he was in the clutches of N.

Yosano was drafted by Mori to utilize her ability in the great war. He dehumanizes her by reducing her to a tool and disregards her feelings for the greater cause he's trying to contribute to. Mori forces her to keep using her ability by shooting Tachihara’s brother and intimidating her to keep doing her job. He installs fear into what could happen if she doesn't heal them, but is further damaged by what happens when she does. While we don't see a lot of what happened during then, we can assume this kept happening until the war ended.

You can pinpoint what makes this situation abusive quite easily:

Disregarding the autonomy of the victim

Uses fear and intimidation tactics

Psychological power dynamic that weighs on the victim

(Assuming so) is repeatedly forced to keep repeating something that causes psychological harm

Though I can absolutely say Yosano is just as much of a victim to the structural abuse of Ability users being targets of the country, like Chuuya, there is primarily one person we can pin her abuse on: Mori, because he was in charge of her and was his primary target. Mori resorts to using abuse because Yosano had too much of a will of her own and was not doing what he needed of her.

That’s Yosano’s situation, now what about Dazai?

As recounted in the Fifteen LN, they met by chance. Someone brought Dazai in after a suicide attempt into his clinic and, for an unknown reason since we don’t actually know anything about the plan itself, Mori asked him to be apart of his new plan to assassinate the old boss that took about maybe a year or so. He was a witness and accomplice to his death, a death that was necessary to the safety of Yokohama. He hadn’t became an official member until he had teamed up with Chuuya and was convinced that maybe he could find a reason to live by joining because of this experience.

As Dazai is pretty much a blank slate with potential in Mori’s eyes, Mori had decided to teach him tactical theory to put his mind to use and had him team up with Chuuya to develop him further with a good influence as Fukuzawa was to him (“A diamond can only polish a diamond”). Mori sees himself in Dazai and wants him to become someone who will be a great right-hand man, but ultimately lets him loose in Dark Era because of his irrational human fears of Dazai killing him one day like he did to the old boss. There could be more reasons to why he did it (Dazai not being a good potential future leader or maybe having to do with the revelation that he did care about Dazai in Beast), but this is what canon has offered us currently.

Already, do you see how differently I summarize their dynamic with Mori? Not because I have any bias views, but because he treats them differently. If I can’t apply even one of the points I brought up that made Yosano’s situation abusive, then I can’t call it that. I’m already struggling to think of a way as to how it could be abusive because that’s all the information we have. It’s not great that Mori taught a child to think like he does, but he’s never conditioned him in a way I’d call abusive like he did to Yosano.

There was no way for him to use fear and intimidation on Dazai without being seen through. It’s not like Dazai had anything he gave worth except Oda and Ango, and he’s never used them as a threat on Dazai. He does not treat Dazai like a tool or ignore his feelings consistently, Dazai has no feelings to any terrible actions he does. He’s Amoral and could care less. He has no psychological control on Dazai, on the contrary, he’s treated as an equal and has not made any attempt to exact any power on him except a professional role as his boss.

Again, listen to me when I say this is not me saying that Dazai isn’t effected by his time in the PM or that Mori treated him like an equal suddenly means that being treated like an adult for the majority of your teenage years is not that bad. It’s incredibly fucked up, but you can’t use abuse to describe it. I didn’t add manipulation or “brought into an endangering environment” to the list because they are points emphasized way too often in the conversation of Dazai being abused. That’s not because I don’t think abuser can’t also do that, but they are tactics that can be used in various situations that aren’t abuse.

Don’t you think it’d be silly for me to say that Dazai is abusing the ADA because he manipulates them into playing their roles or that Kenji is being abused because he’s a kid in an agency that deals with murders and government jobs? Or even apply that logic to most other animes. That’s why I don’t take it seriously when all of a sudden, people are saying Kouyou and Chuuya are victims of Mori. They are absolutely victims of abuse, but Mori?? Just because he’s casually manipulative while also being someone who will use abuse if he thinks it’s necessary? Way to ignore he has genuine bonds with his 2 executives.

The point of what makes what he did to Yosano abusive is that it installed distress into her repetitively. Individually the actions he took weren't abusive by itself, it was the accumulation of what it made her feel. That's why Mori killing the boss in front of Dazai wasn't abusive, it's just fucked. If you were to claim that maybe Mori did something off-screen, then I would have to ask why because the only reason Mori resorted to using abuse was because he needed to snuff out her will and make her into a good tool.

That's the thing, Dazai has no will and is not the way he is because he dislikes the mafia or that Mori tore him down, he's always been that way before meeting him. Unfortunately, he's perfect for the mafia and Mori didn’t need to do crap in this situation. That’s why I genuinely could not say Mori was abusing Chuuya either in my last post.

And before it’s said, It is not a gotcha to say “well he’s a child in a violent environment, so by proxy he’s being abused”. I hope you realize that’s a totally different statement from mori abusing him and claims he’s also a victim of structural abuse Iike Kyouka was, because again, he was like this before the mafia and there would be no need to take action.

Anyway, I just needed to get this off of my chest. Anything I didn’t say was in the original overview. This was not that short, but I felt like ranting a bit. I just really had nothing to talk about regarding any potential abuse happening to Dazai by Mori and I hope this expresses this better? I think their relationship is pretty interesting if you don’t only focus on fan inflated angst that doesn’t exist. The next time I post, I hope it to be an actual analysis and not me ranting in disguise of an analytical breakdown.

There are much more interesting things people can say about the clear development Mori has went through in where he used Yosano like this to how he treats people in the Mafia, and that’s absolutely because of the partnership he had with Fukuzawa. Just, read my original overview okay? I like it better than this one.

#bsd #Bungou stray dogs #mori ougai #osamu dazai #yosano akiko #bsd meta #(?) kind of #it’s just me ranting #okay next post is not an the analysis #I actually felt like doing a one shot!#I think you’re all very silly when you say things about Mori abusing people #when all that’s happening is you taking Mori’s intentions with his manipulation and saying that’s abusive itself #what’s next? Is Beast Dazai abusing everyone???#I have my thoughts about his relationship with Atsushi #but that’s just silly

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heyyallitssatan · 8 months

Text

So I saw a headcanons about Janus being colour blind, and when he lies he can see colour for a minute, but no one else knows about it

So here’s my headcanons for how the dark boyfriends sides found out below the cut

Remus and Virgil were watching Disney conspiracy theories on YouTube when Janus came down to see what all the ruckus was about.

As it turned out they had since moved on from Disney conspiracy theories and were currently watching “Ultimate Trump Fail Compilation”. They were dying of laughter when they noticed Janus standing there staring at them.

They pulled him onto the couch and rewinded to the last clip, and watched Janus as he watched.

He fought back a smirk as he said in his usual deadpan tone, “Well that wasn’t the highlight of my day.”

They died, right then and there, all over again, Janus brand of deadpan sarcasm had always managed to get them going, especially when they were already giggly.

And with that one little lie, Janus saw something he had never seen before; Virgil’s eyeshadow had turned purple.

With every lie that Janus told, he got to experience colour vision for a moment, something he lacked the rest of the time, and given that, along with how little Virgil relaxed enough to make a colour change, this was the first time he had ever seen it.

“Virgil, your eyeshadow, it’s… purple.”

He had scrunched his face up in a look of confusion, something that Virgil’s over analysing brain took to mean he didn’t like it, as such, the eyeshadow started to lose its newfound colour, which Janus didn’t notice, thinking it was just his vision fading.

Remus popped up right in time to almost save it, “Of course it is J-anus”

And in a small, vulnerable voice, Janus asked, “Has it always been purple?” As he looked away from Virgil.

“Of course not Janny, only when he’s happy, and the storm cloud over there doesn’t do that often,” Remus responded, indicating to Virgil, who was still confused and staring silently.

The smallest ‘oh’ escaped his lips, as he stared down at the ground.”

“How could you not know that, it might be rare but he’s done it around us plenty enough for you to notice, I mean, even I did.”

While was faltering for words to write this off, some suave lie that would get him out of this and show him if there were any other colours he had missed Virgil seemed to at least somewhat piece together part of the puzzle.

“…You’ve never seen it change, have you?”

“No.”

“How have you never looked at me long enough to see it?”

“What? No, it’s not that, it’s not that at all, the truth is…”

“Come on Jan, tell us.”

“…I’m not colour blind.”

“Oh Jan, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” came from Virgil at the same time as Remus’, “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?”

“I…don’t know. I just…”

Virgil sighed, “It’s okay Jan, we can talk about it later, for now, let’s just watch the video.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we should do.”

“Ok then, you want to explain?”

“…Yes.”

“C’mon work with us here, we gotta pick something.”

“Yea J-anus, explain, we’re just dying to know,” Remus responded as he mimicked some strange death scene, maybe Romeo?

“Fine…I’m not colour blind, and when I lie I can’t see colour.”

“Oh Jan…”

“Don’t, don’t pity me.”

“It’s not pity J-anus, he’s beating himself up for never realising, something he should stop doing before I turn in a brain eating amoeba a feat all the bad thoughts.”

“You are the bad thoughts?”

“Oh…I’ll eat myself then, starting now!”

“Yes of course Remus, you absolutely should,” Janus drawled out while he pulled Remus’ hand out of his mouth.

The night continued similarly, important conversations being had in between bouts of goofing off, mostly from Remus. He did it whenever one of them started thinking too much, they’d always had a bad habit of that, but it seemed to work, so he kept doing it.

Eventually all of the necessary explanations and talking had happened, and now they had to decide what to do. So naturally they chose for Janus to tell blatant lies over and over, so that he could see different colours they were showing him. It became a game of them describing the colours to him, then showing him, which seemed to make him laugh quite a bit. They also discover that when one of them lied Janus could see their colours, like their hair and clothes.

But of all the talking they had done that night, they had never really brought up Virgil’s eyeshadow again, but it stayed purple the rest of the night, and they realised that the white strike in Remus’ hair could glow radioactive green when he got excited.

At the end of the night, which was actually the beginning of the morning, they had shown Janus all of the colours they could imagine, so they asked him which was his favourite. He responded, in a quiet tired voice while he stared up at them from whatever strange pile they had found themselves in, where limbs went numb and melded together and no one really knew where they ended and someone else began, “Not purple, or green,” in an effort to see them one last time before his eyes finally slipped shut.

Virgil and Remus fell asleep just the same, but not before quietly admitting they they quite like yellow too.

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lustbile · 2 years

Note

wat about a drabble inspired by that f2l hyuck hc u posted about a while back😁

Hmmmm okay so the only thing about that is I want to maybe (definitely) make a fic out of that so dunno if i should/could do a blurb about it as well. But I can do a f2l thing with Hyuck that’s a little different just because its haechan :] and I always want to do that

Warning: oral (reader receiving) and video game references because im dumb also this is 3.6k words. I am so sorry.

——

“What about that guy from my calculus class?” you mutter, picking at your nails as you lean back against the cheap wood that made the headboard of Haechan’s bed.

You had been sitting in silence with Haechan for a while now, the conversation about you being perpetually alone forever dying off naturally once the game he put on had finally finished loading. But even though his eyes were glued to his screen, your brain still moved almost as quickly as his fingers, and you were left to filter through every eligible man you’ve ever met as Haechan grunted at his screen.

“Hrrmm?” Haechan lets out a sound of confusion, losing the original plot of the reason you came to pout in his dorm in the first place before it clicks again in his brain, “oh uh… to fuck or to date?”

“To fuck,” you scoff as if it’s obvious, standing and moving to sit at the end of his bed to be closer to his desk, “I don’t think that guy could last more than five minutes on a genuine date even if it I paid him.”

“You’re the last person that would have to pay someone to date them,” he unknowingly mumbles as he kills another player, an anguished scream coming through his headphones loud enough for you to hear.

“Well I’m not getting any dates for free,” you huff, throwing your arms against the bed, trying to distract yourself from the way his words make your chest warm, even though you can tell from his slack jaw and glassy eyes that he didn’t even know he said the words himself.

“What do you need a date for so bad anyways?” he finally clocks back into the conversation enough to ask in slight annoyance, “like being single is going to kill you or something?”

“I need a distraction,” you explain with your hands moving rapidly in front of you, hoping he’d take it as that without needing more explanation.

“Distraction from what?”

You let out a small whine, choosing to stare petulantly at the side of his head with a pout instead of giving him an answer. You don’t want to say outright that you need a distraction from whatever weird crush you’ve started to develop on him specifically, actually you’d probably rather swallow his entire desktop than admit that, but you also would love for him to get some kind of hint. Whether that was a hint about how you feel or the fact that you don’t want to talk about it, you’re not sure. But you'd like him to get the hint quickly.

“Haechan you’re so dumb,” you whine, letting yourself fall back onto the stiff mattress below you before dramatically kicking your feet. You hope your tone is drawn out enough that he doesn’t take it as a serious threat, but deep down you’re starting to think he really is dumb to not notice the way you’ve started drooling a bit when he changes in front of you or adjusts himself like you’re not there.

That’s a memory that makes you cringe a bit. Yes, him changing in front of you makes some sense, the sight of his bare chest and long legs making you squirm as you try to be discreet when peeking over the top of your phone. But the times when your thighs squirm at the sight of him adjusting himself with his hand in his pocket, or just just actually grabbing his dick through his pants when he’s feeling shameless, those are the times you think you might just actually be a weirdo.

But weirdo or not, Haechan seems to be oblivious, so it’s not like it matters in the grand scheme of things.

Though speaking of obliviousness, Haechan thinks he might explode from the way you don’t notice his eyes. The way they dart over at you now, tense with his eyelids drooping with slight irritation. It’s a weird combination of feelings that builds in his chest, the heat from the way your shorts ride up your thighs and the annoyance that swirls in his belly from you suggesting the need for a date with someone that isn’t him.

“Love you too,” he replies sarcastically, the words choking him more than he’d like to admit. He tries to ignore the way his online friends coo at him as if the words were meant for them, as he keeps you in his peripherals as you squirm around on his bed, hoping to see you react to his words in some kind of devine way.

He turns the microphone away from his mouth before he speaks again, assuming the way your body twitches at his words was just a natural response to his sarcasm, “I don’t mean this as degrading as its going to sound,” he starts, his throat closing up at the words that swirl in his mind and his wish to say them in a way that is degrading and hot and just incredibly vulgar, “but are you really that desperate to be fucked?”

“Yes I am!” You shout, sitting up again and leaning forward enough to slap your hand on his desk, “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, and it’s driving me up the wall.”

He’s never seen you like this. Of course he knows you get horny. You’ve been vocal about it more than once, unfortunately for him and his dick, but never to the extent that you’re borderline pitching a fit. Which, he doesn’t know that the reason you seem to be more unhinged than usual is actually purely because of him, but if he did know that would only add to his confusion.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles into the microphone when he quickly pulls it back down, the match ending right after your outburst. He has to ignore the whining complaints of the guys on the other end of the speaker, because he decides that wherever this conversation goes, it’s going to require his full attention.

“Is it really that bad?” He asks with an oddly sincere tone as he moves his headphones off his head, “you’re not usually the type to get this worked up about sex of all things.”

If it wasn’t for the soft look he gives you, like you’re some type of feral animal he’s trying to coax towards him, you probably would have diverted to more dramatics. But instead your chest just tightens because honestly, yes it is that bad. And he’s the one that caused it.

Your feelings for him weren’t purely sexual, that would be too easy. You genuinely think you’re falling hopelessly for your best friend, but right now those feelings are all being concentrated purely at the space between your thighs, and you worry if you go any longer without something, you’ll end up jumping the boy that stares at you in amused concern.

“Kind of,” you finally calm, leaning away slightly and staring down at your lap, “I just… I don’t know.”

“It can’t be that bad that you’re genuinely considering that dude from your calc class,” he laughs, trying to lighten the conversation like you’re upset about something real and not just from lack of dick, “not to be rude, but he isn’t really that cute.”

“You’re right, he’s not,” you sigh, feeling bad for talking about this random guy this way, “it’s just something stupid I guess.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he says softly, turning and moving his gaming chair until he knees bump into yours as they drape over the end of his bed, “I’m your best friend man, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, then I’m all yours.”

“I can’t Haechan,” your voice cracking slightly as you dodge the way he tries to lean down enough to catch your eye, “it’s stupid and weird and I don’t want it to bother you.”

He watches the way your hand cuts through the air sharply with every syllable, feeling bad for being so endeared by your motions even if you do them out of frustration, “I’m stupid and weird,” he says confidently with a grin, “you can’t shake me dude.”

“You’re not stupid,” you sigh, warming up when he laughs at your indirect agreement of him being weird, “I…. Okay maybe you are a little.”

“Why?!” He squawks with another laugh, leaning to grab your knees and shake you, “just because I said it doesn’t mean you can agree.”

“Because!” You laugh with a small pang of pain in your voice as you grab his forearms and shake him back, “there’s no way you’re this oblivious.”

You can feel it. The truth becoming too big for your chest to hold. You spent so much energy on being a menace to society, that you feel tired now, and even if it means your heart gets broken you can’t just keep lying in his bed and wallowing in your pity. It’s starting to feel just a degree too pathetic.

“I don’t think it’s me being oblivious as much as it’s you being weird and vague,” he defends himself, choosing not to call you out for being the most oblivious person he’s met. This isn’t a pissing contest he decides, but he thinks if you two started comparing who’s more oblivious, you’d win in a heartbeat just from how you’ve never noticed how tightly wound he was around your finger.

“Haechan, I came to you about this,” you start with your finger pushed into his chest, knowing that being even more vague is probably a dumb move, but you’re doing it regardless, “please don’t make me spell it out for you.”

He feels his mouth go instantly dry the moment you let the words leave your mouth, not wanting to believe what he hopes you’re implying. He thought you were begging the universe to do something, but the idea of you actually begging him to make a move was scrambling his brain.

“You might have to spell it out,” he warns, hesitantly slipping his hands up your thighs. It feels like in that moment though, that he finally arrives on the same plane of existence as you, because for once he notices the way you tense from his touch, “if you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, I don’t want to screw something up.”

It’s interesting seeing Haechan like this, not willing to take the upper hand. He’s usually the first to yell out, the first to claim the spot of being in charge, but when you glance up at him you only see his face plagued with apprehension and even a small streak of fear.

It feels like someone set off a bottle rocket in your chest when you lean forward suddenly, a ratting gasp coming from his full lips when you’re suddenly only inches away from his face. His eyes are so soft you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time, and when you finally get the push in your chest to place your lips on his, it feels like you’re seeing heaven and hell at the exact same second.

If there’s a small version of yourself controlling your mind, like so many silly pieces of media in your life tried to suggest, you’re sure the small version of yourself is spinning in circles in happiness when Haechan reaches to grab your face. His fingers push tightly against the back of your skull, and before you try and pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake, he lets out a pleased groan against your mouth.

You feel like you’re both deer in one another’s headlights when he pulls away. His hands don’t move from the way they hold you, your own lift to wrap tightly around his wrists, and you just stare at one another like it’s the first time you’ve actually seen each other in your entire lives.

“Just to fuck?” Haechan asks weakly with a cringe, his nerves getting the better of him and forcing his words to come out a lot less eloquent than he had ever intended if this moment ever came up.

“It can just be a fuck if you want,” you nod softly, trying to not show the disappointment that flood your chest, but the dejected tone that coats your words hurts Haechan more than you could ever imagine.

“I don’t want that,” he glances down at your lips, moving his thumb to push against your bottom lip as he tries to collect his thoughts, “I mean I do want to fuck, but I um… I’d also love to date.”

“We can date,” you nod, feeling more and more dazed the more he holds you, your body almost melting into a puddle on his sheets when your knees slot together and one of his presses closer to where your shorts bunch up at the apex of your thighs.

“Cool,” he nods back, his own mind seeming to slip as you both keep holding on and nodding dumbly.

There’s staring, and then there’s smiling, and then finally the tension breaks. His lips return to yours in a way that’s a lot more deliberate, a lot more needy and rough, and before you can ask anymore logistical questions, Haechan is moving from his chair to hover over you until you lay flat against the wrinkles sheets of his bed.

“Always imagined how pretty you’d look laid out like this,” he mutters in your ear when he starts to trail his lips along your jaw, “just watching you sprawl out while I play games, the way you get all soft and comfortable. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of times I just wanted to grab you and destroy you.”

You gasp at the admission and how his hips press into yours as your body relaxes beneath him, “you should have,” you respond, your voice gravelly and weak, “you could have had your way with me whenever you wanted.”

The groan he lets out at your words vibrates through the muscles in the side of your neck, and the way his hips sink down until he grinds into you makes your head tilt back and your nails sink into the sides of his shoulders. He somehow zeros in on all the spots along your throat that makes your body shiver, and when he digs his teeth into the flesh at the bend of your shoulder, you can’t help but cry out.

His hands are rushed in everything he does, wanting to figure everything out and get the answer before anyone else can, and you feel like his ultimate puzzle beneath his fingers.

He shoves your shirt up until it bunches below your armpits, grinning like he’s gotten a cheat code when he sees you didn’t bother with any type of bra before wandering into his room, and you don’t even get a moment to try and pull the fabric off before his mouth latches to one of your nipples while he abuses the other with the tips of his fingers.

“Haechan,” you sigh, a shiver rolling up your spine at the feeling of his moving lips and tongue. Your hand drifts up, brushing along his back and up until your fingers tangle in his hair. And when he nips at your skin, he sets off a chain reaction of your tugging roughly at his roots and him grunting in response.

He grins so big when he pulls away, his face starts to ache. Getting you below him is a dream come true, and when he blows cool air on your still damp skin, it’s as if he’s testing to make sure you’re real and not just his hyperactive imagination.

“Still desperate to get fucked?” He asks with a laugh, the typical cockiness returning to him now that he’s got you in the palm of his hand.

“Please,” you hum. The clammy skin of your palm tugs on his hair as you smooth your hand up the curve of his skull, and once it lays flat on the top of his head you push gently, encouraging him with big glassy eyes to do something more than just lick at your chest.

He nods in response, letting you move his head until he’s level with your hips. He takes your shorts off slowly, pulling your underwear along with them, and admiring the way they gradually expose your skin in the opposite way of how he usually gets to see flashes of your thighs.

His head falls to push his forehead into your belly when you're fully exposed to his eyes, stopping your thighs from closing him out the way they instinctively flexed. Every second feels surreal to him, and the sight of your body’s response to just him, the amount of wetness that’s built between your thighs from his mouth on your skin, was enough to make him feel like he’s in a dream.

He’s quick to move your thighs over his shoulders when you let out a quiet whimper, feeling perfectly at home at the way your flesh presses against his ears. He loves the way you chew at your bottom lip and the way you stare down at him in nervous anticipation. And he feels like he’s the only man in the world when he leans down to lay a small kiss on your clit and you let out a small shocked hiccup.

“I can’t believe you came in here horny out of your mind, and I almost just let you wallow in it while I sat around playing games like an idiot,” he mutters, scolding himself while he moves his hand until he can slip his thumb against you. The way he just mindlessly stares at you dripping arousal as his digit dips into it and smears it around your clit makes you feel delirious, and the way he speaks like he has all the time in the world makes your fingers tense in his hair.

“You’re letting me wallow in it now,” you remind with a bratty huff, trying to roll your hips closer to his face.

“Poor baby,” he says with a wink, kissing up the side of your thigh softly, and letting you let out a few impatient whines before he moves his thumb and lays his tongue flat against you.

Haechan had imagined tasting you more than his fair share of times. Imagining you seated on his face or spread out below him whether he was alone with his hand wrapped around himself or even when he was sitting mindlessly in a boring lecture. He hadn’t gotten past the guilt of thinking about his best friend like that, but he just couldn’t help the thought wandering in so frequently when it was probably the one thing he’d kill to do.

But he didn’t have to kill, he’s learned. Finally taking the hint was the only thing he needed, and now with his tongue sinking shallowly inside you, he thinks he can stay with his tongue buried in you for the rest of his life.

Haechan licks at you slowly, digging his tongue against your skin harshly and circling the end of his tongue quickly over your clit. His hands press into your stomach when you start to squirm too much for his mouth to control, and once you’re forcibly static against his lashings, he presses in deeper to see how far he can push you into a delirious pleasure.

It doesn’t take much, your body anticipating his touch for so long that it’s only a matter of a few moments before your panting and gasping for breath.

He licks at you like you're a dripping treat, savoring every taste he gets of you and groaning happily when your hips start gently rocking until you’re grinding against his warm tongue. He loves the smell you leave on his sheets and the way your arousal and his saliva mixes and drips onto his bed, and from the way you whine and try to curl into yourself, he knows you love the things he does to your body.

You coming is the best thing his eyes have ever gotten to witness. The way your spine curves and the rough way you tug at his hair until his face is shoved tightly against your body making him work faster. Your mind is so gone with pleasure, that your body works against you, and he’s more than happy to take advantage when your overstimulated mind is too gone to push him away.

The evidence of your orgasm is already coating the lower half of your face when you cry out, finally lifting your legs enough that he has to tug your thighs back down to keep you in place. And his mouth latching around your buzzing clit must be what finally pulls you back to earth, because you sit up as much as you can manage against his hold, with a wild look behind your eyes.

“Hyuck,” you gasp with your voice shot and shredded, pushing gently against his shoulders with as much strength as you can manage from the way your entire body shakes from his unrelenting tongue, “I’m done. I’m done.”

He looks up quickly with a smile, one that looks like your best friend, but is worn by a newly formed demon you’ve never met. He remembers as he trails his eyes over your face, the way you were moaning about how horny and deprived you were before he found himself here, and he remembers the time that both of you wasted dancing around the truth that both of you hid. He remembers the times he only got to imagine this scenario, dreaming about how you tasted and squirmed, and all the remembering just makes him scoff.

“I’m not.”

#Nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #ask

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thunderprompts · 2 years

Text

RANDOM QUOTES PROMPT MEME #02

45 random quotes for rp and/or general writing prompts!

“If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough.”

“I’m about as intimidating as a butterfly.”

“All of my best friends are dead people. Someday I've got to figure out how that happened.”

“Act first, explain later.”

“My melon soul, crushed by your Gallagher of apathy.”

“The planet is fine. The people are fucked.”

“I did not attend his funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.”

“It's not true that I had nothing on. I had the radio on.”

“Never miss a good chance to shut up.”

“I don't hate you.. I just don't like that you exist.”

“Do you ever think if people heard our conversations they'd lock us up?"

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“The funniest people are the saddest ones.”

“The human body is the best work of art.”

“Ah coffee. The sweet balm by which we shall accomplish today's tasks.”

“Sane is boring.”

“I think the warning labels on alcoholic beverages are too bland. They should be more vivid. Here is one I would suggest: ‘Alcohol will turn you into the same asshole your father was.’“

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.”

"Some people have no idea what they're doing, and a lot of them are really good at it."

"Never argue with an idiot. They will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience."

"Think of how stupid the average person is, and realize half of them are stupider than that."

“Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.”

"It's never just a game when you're winning."

"My advice: just keep moving straight ahead. Every now and then you find yourself in a different place."

"A good motto to live by: 'Always try not to get killed.'"

“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.”

“Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret?”

“Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.”

“Reason is the natural order of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning.”

“Anyone who doesn't take truth seriously in small matters cannot be trusted in large ones either.”

“With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere.”

“An explanation of cause is not a justification by reason.”

“All right, then, I'll go to hell.”

“Few of us can stand prosperity. Another man's, I mean.”

“Drag your thoughts away from your troubles... by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.”

“Work is a necessary evil to be avoided.”

“Laws control the lesser man... Right conduct controls the greater one.”

“Principles have no real force except when one is well-fed.”

“Many a small thing has been made large by the right kind of advertising.”

“I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”

“Let us endeavor so to live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.”

“Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.”

“One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors.”

“We have, I fear, confused power with greatness.”

“Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.”

#rp prompts #rp prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #roleplay prompt #roleplay prompts #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #quote prompts #quote prompt #rp meme #rp memes

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sparklingself · 1 year

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I’m so sorry for this kind of question and I don't want to offend anyone. It’s just that I have always lived in the material world and I was taught rational thinking, so now it’s a little difficult for me to readjust and not doubting about everything here. But I really want to know more about manifestation. I know so many people can't lie and all, so please don't take it personally. I don't want to be rude or offend any of you. I'm just confused.

The reason is that in the world there is such a thing as “magic thinking”, which just implies faith in changes at the click of a finger, that nothing needs to be done for global results and desires and so on. In addition, today I accidentally watched a video of a well-known and good psychiatrist about the analysis of one coach (all of them are known within my country and this coach is really very unpleasant, she teaches you how to make wishes correctly because of a lot of money but all her knowledge from tiktok) and he analyzed the topic of magical thinking. He said that people with a neurotic disorder believe in it because they want everything at once rn, they don’t want to make efforts, work and etc. Even diseases have remissions that’s why someone just “get results” so everything can be scientifically explained in his opinion. Even if I think about it, I could not manifest a beautiful voice and elementary weight loss. Please forgive me, I do not want to demotivate or accuse anyone of lying. I really really want to believe and try to change my life. Please, could you share some links to any scientific articles that talk about the manifestation and how it works? Or just navigate me that I can search and learn for myself? Thank you very much in advance and sorry one more time

i get where you’re coming from but the law doesn’t need to be proved by science. you can definitely find articles from trusted sources which prove some kind of point in the law but i personally haven’t taken the time to get into that and i don’t feel the need to. that’s because if you educate yourself on the law enough you’ll know that the main principal is much less “magical” than it seems at first glance. it’s a philosophical perspective of life. this principal which i’m talking about isn’t that when you affirm for an x amount of times you’ll get what you want irl. it’s that consciousness is the only reality. this perspective is analogical in the sense of, say, platon’s theory of ideas - it’s another philosophy that wouldn’t have much success trying to prove it’s real through science. the explanation for consciousness (as in you and everything in relation to you) being the only reality would be that you can experience your life only through your own consciousness and you cannot access anyone else’s consciousness. it’s all just you. everything you experience is life is through the lens of you. and because of that everything is you. can anything exist regardless of you? no, because to exist means to be able to be perceived. and you cannot perceive if there is no you. therefore, you can change your world through yourself. since everything is subjectively you, you attach your self-concepts to everything - you can change your self-concepts in order to change the outer world. because your self-concepts determine what you see on the outside.

you don’t have to adapt to this mindset. it’s your choice if you choose to follow it. but if you take the law to pieces, you can see that it has nothing to do with “belief”. it’s just a philosophical perspective you can choose to follow. and i will forever recommend you do, because it can tremendously improve your life and let you finally become happy which, after all, is the main goal for every human on this earth.

#ask #law of assumption

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dalishious · 1 year

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Still don't understand what happened between you and P*lipunk?

This is the last time I will be discussing what went down between me and palipunk, and I am begging everyone reading this to be respectful to them. At this point it's starting to feel like you're just looking for #drama. The only reason I’m responding to this ask is in the event there are any followers who feel they can no longer support me after the mistakes I have made.

In late May this year, I wrote a thing on Medium about why I would personally no longer be watching Eurovision. This piece included statements that unintentional or not, minimized the damage Israel has done to Palestinians. This was pointed out to me by several people, including palipunk, and so I deleted the article, and wrote an apology on my blog. However, this apology was not well written enough, which palipunk attempted to correct me on, but again I failed to make an appropriate statement. (I don’t want to play ‘the autism card’ as an excuse, but it’s probably an explanation, as I still truly do not know what I should have done differently to make it better. Which sucks, because I genuinely still hold regret over this.)

A couple weeks later in June, an anon asked me if I supported the Palestinian Land Back movement, to which I said yes. Shortly after, someone sent me an article containing anti-Palestinian propaganda that I took at face value, and edited my response linking the article and saying I was confused about what to believe. Someone else in the replies said that the article was BS, so I did take it down again, but I should never have shared it in the first place. I was wrong to believe in and spread this hate, and I am sorry to have contributed to more damage to Palestinians.

Early this week, someone sent me an anon message saying palipunk made a post about me, explaining everything I just said above basically, in response to a question why they understandably do not want anything to do with me. This anon clearly did not like palipunk and included insulting phrasing. I chose to respond to this anon to correct them that I do not have anything against palipunk. However, I should not have responded to the message at all, as evident by the fact that it was brought to my attention that palipunk was receiving hateful and threatening messages shortly after I responded. So I deleted the ask.

TL;DR: I have caused palipunk and other Palestinian bloggers harm and they have every reason not to like me. I am very sorry for my actions, and am trying to do better. But I understand that doesn’t make up for what wrongs I have done.

#ask

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catgrump · 1 year

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"you were outside for how long? without a coat?" "i'm fine, i swear." Kiribaku

So in this lovely No War AU, we also feature Trans!Kirishima! Enjoy!

🌻🌻🌻

Kirishima was in heaven. He was finished with his morning training and his sparring partner hasn’t left his side. Bakugo lay on Kirishima’s chest, rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of his breathing. Bakugo must’ve really worn himself out this morning… he was out cold.

And Bakugo never lets anyone see him like this. One of the reasons he goes to bed so early every night is to make sure he’s closed off from everyone else. One of the most vulnerable things you can do is sleep in front of someone else.

Kirishima felt honored to have Bakugo being this sweet and intimate with him. Not just “sleeping in the same room” but Bakugo is actively using Kirishima as a pillow. Every so often, Kirishima would run his fingers through Bakugo’s fluffy hair, and he’d feel Bakugo nuzzle closer with a muffled, sleepy noise.

Luckily, it’s the weekend, so they don’t have anywhere to be. “Out of everyone in our class,” Kirishima whispered, “you are one of the people who works the hardest. Rest up.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo sleepily mumbled, clinging a bit tighter, “don’t wake me up.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima chuckled, a hand returning to Bakugo’s hair.

“Wake me up when it’s time to eat or something,” Bakugo muttered.

“Yes sir,” Kirishma softly teased, but then he had another thought, “What if I’m hungry now?”

Bakugo looked up from Kirishima’s chest and his eyes were piercing. “I’m practically awake now anyway,” he grumbled, “Do you want lunch?”

“If you need to rest more—“

“No, it’s whatever. Let’s get lunch,” Bakugo said, but he wasn’t getting up.

“Well, I can’t get lunch if you’re like this,” Kirishima teased.

“Shut up,” was Bakugo’s retort.

“Dude—“

“Ugh, fine,” Bakugo caved in and shifted to be laying beside Kirishima, one hand on Kirishima’s chest.

They browsed Kirishima’s phone for places to go and settled on poke bowls, but neither of them wanted to leave this moment. The light from Kirishima’s dorm window was hitting them just right. It was so warm and so wonderful and they were so comfortable.

It took Bakugo’s stomach rumbling for them to actually get up.

“It’s a long walk to the bus when it’s as cold out as it is,” Kirishima explained, searching through his dorm’s closet, “Be sure to get your coat.”

“I left mine at home,” Bakugo replied, shortly.

“What?”

“Your ears broken, Shitty Hair? I said I left my coat at home.”

“Bakugo, what the hell?”

“What?”

“It’s winter; why don’t you have a coat?”

“I don’t need one.”

“Yes, you do?” Kirishima was baffled by this conversation.

“I’m fine, I swear,” Bakugo insisted.

Kirishima dug through his closet again, sifting through to find another coat, “So when we had that snow day recently,” he said, “you were outside for how long? Without a coat?”

“Kiri, it’s fine,” Bakugo is really serious when he uses even variations of people’s actual names.

Then Kirishima had an epiphany. He turned around and asked, “Is this a cis dudes thing?”

Bakugo squinted in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Kirishima started rambling, “Okay, back before I transitioned, something I always noticed at school was dudes still wearing their summer uniforms in winter, and wearing shorts when it snows out. I never understood why. Like, I always knew I was a dude myself, but like… this one thing made me question myself sometimes.’

‘It doesn’t seem manly to risk hypothermia,” Kirishima continued, “Do you have any explanation for this phenomenon?”

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, finally admitting, “I just don’t like that the cold makes me weak.”

Kirishima finally found another jacket that would be warm enough, “Oh shit,” he had another realization, “Yeah, your quirk—“

“Is harder to manage when it’s cold out. I want to overcome that.”

Kirishima approached, holding the jacket as an offering, “That’s why you’re here at UA, right? To figure these things out?”

Bakugo sighed and took the jacket, “Yeah…”

“Do you think All Might would want you to risk your health like that just so you can try to get a better tolerance for the cold?”

Bakugo pouted again, “Probably not.”

Kirishima extended his hand, “You can work around this. You can talk to Mei about getting some winter support items.”

And Bakugo slowly reached back out to take Kirishima’s hand, nodding in agreement.

“Come on,” Kirishima started toward the door, “Poke bowls await.”

#my fanfic writing #my fic writing #my writing #krbk fanfic #krbk #kirishima x bakugou #kiribaku #kirishima eijiro x bakugou katsuki #kiribaku fanfic #kirishima eijirou #bakugo katsuki #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia

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kimberlyannharts · 10 months

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LAST TIME ON.....Power Rangers Hyperforce? A bunch of crazy stuff happened that would take too long to explain because my god I am not rewatching all of those three-hour tabletop episodes just for a single one-shot book. You just need to know there’s a team of rangers called Hyperforce that was mentored by Jen who went through a lot of shenanigans across their time stream until everything broke and they didn’t get a second season and everything sucks. Also the pink ranger’s dad is the main bad guy and she works for him now. Got that? Okay. Power Rangers Unlimited: Hyperforce.

- eh you know what, let me just repost the recap from the previews. it does a decent job at summing up the first season so we might as well have it again as a reminder for what’s happening

- fuck you dad i’m supposed to be taking down my dad

- yeah sorry Chloe but your plan never would have worked. Jen is not allowed to die in any story ever written with her inclusion

- Alpha 55!!!!!!!!! I did miss them. Even if they started the confusing trend of taking MMPR stuff and repainting them gold and black

- I still can’t fucking believe Joe/Nadira is canon. Literally for what reason

- It took me a second to remember that Hyperforce went to the North Pole during the first season and I have to say I laughed imagining newbies picking up this mostly serious and dramatic book just to get to this page

- it’s a shame the answer to this was Eddie dumping this beautiful woman at the alter for Vesper and not Vesper simply adding herself to the marriage

- let her cook honestly

- great character development, everyone! now anyway

- [always sunny theme] the gang gets betrayed. also Marv and Joe are here

- I already made the Emperor Belos joke but now I’m distracted by the fact he’s stealing Drakkon’s half hair/half bald style. It doesn’t look good guys, no matter where you part it!!!!!!

- you know, serious question here. Did they give Marv shit for not getting the Battlizer in Hyperforce??? I thought it was just a Thing That Happened and everyone was like haha cool

- “upgraded Rita Repulsa”

- see even Big Bad Dad thinks this story is rushed

- well at least he’s honest

- I find it funny that they’re pressuring Marv to be the leader just because he’s red when they were mentored by fucking JEN

- it’s a shame Hyperforce is canonically set in 3000s because you know if it wasn’t this would have set off a string of “[random ranger girl] is Chloe’s mom” theories

- I mean she’s right. what hope do we have from a team who couldn’t even get a second season

- idk Shattered Grid got fixed pretty easily. Even the cracks that were supposed to be some huge existential consequence just kinda............were fine

- Funny coincidence how the Hyperforce team goes to recruit the Wild Force team only for them to already be beaten. I feel like this would have worked a little better if they went to the Wild Force team because they were pinging for help, because they genuinely don’t give a reason as to why they go to the Wild Force rangers specifically kjlskdlfksj just based on vibes, I guess

- first of all: going from referring to Spa’ark with he/him to they/them pronouns in the span of a panel makes me feel like the misgendering was an editor mistake, which........come on, guys

- second of all: it’s not a surprise that Taylor is the only one left considering her popularity but lbr her popularity is because she’s basically Wild Force’s version of Jen. Jen, who was a main character in Shattered Grid. sooooooo not helping the “this is just Shattered Grid” allegations

- third of all: IS DRAKKON THE ONLY VILLAIN TO LOOK AT WHAT RITA’S DOING AND GO UHHHH NO THANKS? Spa’ark wanted to FIGHT Dark Specter!!!!! why are they joining him now!!!!!! why must we continue to destroy any of their nuance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don’t mind them having a body though despite it being a plot point that they're only a spirit/consciousness that exists inside their morpher/zord because I feel that’s easy enough to bullshit an explanation like Rita fixed them through magic or whatever

#text #mmpr comic #mmpr comic spoilers #pr unlimited #hyperforce

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