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arijackz · 5 days

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PICK A CARD: Your FS' Secret Kinks

❦ “She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air." - Raymon Chandler, The Big Sleep

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✦ Pile One ✦

Poor lil pooh pooh. This person struggles to “fill their cups up” so they get off on denying themselves pleasure. They secretly like the feeling of hitting whatever rock bottom looks like to them. Honestly, they want to be saved. They are wallowing at the bottom of a well, waiting for their savior to swoop in and throw them a rope.

In a more literal sense, they want a person to be their reason to live. Their reason to feel daylight on their skin again. Everyone and everything around them is unsatisfying and “fake”. They want something real to coax them out of their hell and entice them with all the thrilling things life has to offer.

However, they also like this dark and brooding side of themselves. They have a bit of a corruption kink.

They fantasize about a virginal angel coming down to save them, but they end up convincing the angel to sink down to their level.

They like exciting, spontaneous people who are willing to jump up and run out the door to do something fun at any moment, but think innocent fun. Like going to the movies to theater hop, and getting away without paying. Or, running around the Target parking lot in shopping carts and trying not to bang into cars. Maybe even steal a few street signs.

Innocent childhood fun that you’d see in early 90s movies. But add a sadistic twist to it that only they are aware of.

You would be the innocent virgin (doesn’t have to be true, it's their fantasy) who is unknowingly leading this beast (also not true, they are just extremely self-deprecating) to your pretty little happy places which they plan to desecrate.

They want to fuck you in your family home and make a mess of your childhood bed, making you scream so loud that you’re family starts to look at you differently. They want to take you to your favorite movie spots where you usually chill and hangout with your friends and turn it into a place where all you can think about is them covering your mouth in the back of the theater while you’re squirming in their lap, trying to escape out of their grip as they edge you to the new Marvel release.

They have a kink for turning all of your innocent, fun moments into their very own filthy fantasies.

Ps. Fisting came out of the blue so lube up!

Come To Me, My Senseless Angel

✦ Pile Two ✦

I don’t believe this is a future spouse, to be honest. This might be a situationship you need to move past. They seem emotionally immature, or at least this is a side of them that exclusively comes out when they’re aroused.

They can be quite abrasive and feel like they are constantly under attack so they’re incredibly defensive. They have a history of lashing out at their loved ones when they feel overwhelmed and get so blinded by their emotions that they disregard their affection for their partners and say really unforgettable, harmful words which permanently alters the connection for the worse.

They carry guilt from these actions and are in a constant state of regret. In this state, their sense of pleasure is a little twisted. They get turned on by causing a genuine issue in the relationship. They like the idea of pushing you to your limit where you’re this 🤏 close to your breaking point and at your absolute lowest. It’s when you reach your rock bottom and realize the need to move away from this person and you scream out, “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.”

They like to grovel. You know that cycle where somebody fucks up and then they’re in the dog house buying flowers and being extra fluffy just to get in the victim’s good graces so they can do the same thing over again. So far, pile one and two’s respective partners like to feel like shit. They secretly like the moment where they completely fuck up a relationship and have to beg on their hands and knees to get their person back orrrrrr they get off on emotionally tearing someone down to the point where they get on their knees to bed for this person’s attention.

Either way, there's a lot of fucked psychological issues underneath this fantasy that I’m not unpacking here because it differs from person to person.

In its best light, this person glorifies struggle love. At its worst, this person is purposefully emotionally abusive with the intent to tear their partner down for their own sexual gratification.

They’re conscious enough to know their actions are toxic but don’t have the emotional maturity to work past their actions. They’re at the phase where they’re just aware and are like “I know I’m shitty but that’s just who I am. If they stick with me and the sex is good, it’s meant to be.”

I’m honestly getting twitter relationship hypotheticals with this one. Iykyk.

They’re also an edgelord. Less in an internet cockroach way and more in a witty- can be funny if done well- way, but they get pleasure from shocking people nonetheless. This energy can be directed toward you to piss you off and annoy you with the intent of getting in your pants later.

I’ve been guided to switch the conversation briefly: If this resonates and is someone you are dealing with. It is time to move on. This person gets gratification from hurting you and will not get past that high of tearing down a relationship and then having a messy recovery. They have their own issues to work through and cannot see how they are hurting you. There is no future with this person, they came into your life to teach you a lesson about your self-value. That cycle has run its course and it's time to move on.

To be honest, I’m not a fan of this person and don’t even want to list the explicit kinks that came out but I will just in case this message is for you but you’re not sure.

Random messages: Hot tub/pool sex, hair pulling, break down crying, interracial, milk, broken condom, “i fucking hate you”, “whore”, mirror, drunk sex, complaining, smack a bitch, twitter

P.S. You’re too sexy for the bullshit! There is bigger and greater out there, you just need to believe that for yourself!

This person will not get a mood board out of me.

✦ Pile Three ✦

Okay, so this person has some deep religious guilt. This is a male presenting person. I am being clear with their sex because it plays a role in this reading. They have some majorly repressed feminine energy. They may even be attracted to the same sex.

This is a fs reading, so they are likely bi, pansexual, or trans. Either way, their family is close-minded and is not supportive of them. They were forced to leave home so they could finally live their truth. They have lived their entire life fitting somebody else’s narrative. They were the hypermasculine bro type to “cover up” their femininity.

So, they have a kink for hyperfeminity. It’s almost to the point where they obsess over the caricature of girlhood. I see lots of pink, high heels, full-glam, all-day mall shopping, pinup curls, flashy jewelry, sleepovers, day spas, that scene in Scott Pilgrim where that girl is like “SHE’S PROBABLY LIKE 25!”, and everything else that gets associated with “girlhood” nowadays.

They fantasize about you in your receptive energy, being waited on and cared for hand and foot. They like to observe the way you move. Everything about you and your feminine aura is incredibly alluring to them. The way with each breath your breasts fall, the way your hips swat with each step, the cute way you match your accessories with your outfits. They notice everything about you.

You know those paintings of wealthy women lying on their sides and being fed grapes? That. They’re not in the serving role, they're the painter. Their kink is capturing you in those everyday moments where the world seems to be waiting on you like you’re the collective’s queen.

They see femininity in a higher light than the general population. They see women as automatically deserving of this type of care, they also want this care.

They have a secret hard-on for pregnant women and women with swollen breasts. They have a lactation kink. They fantasize about cumming in you over and over again. They see you as a Goddess, so they want to see you masturbate at church on an altar, like you're waiting to be worshipped.

A lot of their fantasies, they’re not even included in. It’s just you looking God-like and being worshipped by the world around you. This person may hate when you wear clothes. They act like the fabric is committing a sin by covering your body. They just want to capture your essence. Like an admirer and a student.

P.S. Dick game goes CRAZY. They watch a lot of women-focused porn to study what gets a woman off. Like Maddie in Euphoria, here is there to study.

Pretty In Pink

✦ Pile Four ✦

WE GOT A PLEASURE DOM IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL STAY CALM. As my mama would say, they love your dirty drawls!

You could do no wrong in this person’s eyes. They’re the golden retriever type. Head empty, leading with heart and IN LOVE>>>>>

You are the pot of gold and the end of the rainbow they’re chasing. They appreciate a good fling but they’ve never felt this before. The emotions you stir in them are unprecedented, this is puppy, sandbox love that most people lose touch with after life jades them.

This is raw love at its most unprocessed. I taste honey.

They have a kink for the power you have over them. It’s like you have a carrot on a stick and they’re the pig being led to a love den they can’t escape. And they’ll happily be the squealing pig in every lifetime they get with you. This is a soul yearning.

You will know this person because they will proactively pursue you and they will have no doubts in their mind about it. They are really attracted to your physical form, your curves. Even if you’re on the slimmer side, they like your structure and the dips in your spine. They’ll stare at you when you’re talking and zone out, thinking about how attractive they find you.

They’re not used to having to try to get someone to sleep with them. They have to put effort towards you and they like that. This person is downright thirsty and craves intimacy with you.

Their fantasies aren’t even dirty, they’re passionate. They want to put you in a mating press, with your knees pressed all the way up beside your ears. They want to penetrate (could be with a toy) deeply and touch that gooey part of you that makes you see stars.

They want to see an imprint of them in your lower belly. Any position where you’re in their arms is a go for them because they like having you. They want every moment to be just you and them away from the world. So very sweet and intimate. They also love marking you, expect lots of hickeys.

Ignore them from time to time too (healthily, these conditions should be discussed beforehand)! They see you as the ultimate prize, so if you delay their satisfaction, they’ll feel like they’re chasing again, which gets them off. They like to feel like they’re convincing you to sleep with them. You both are consenting, but they like the idea of you having better things to do and they’re trying to convince you to stay and party with them.

They are very action-oriented and love movement. Anything that involves an adventure together, they are down for.

PS. Surprise them with a bubble bath together, they’ll love that. And tease them while pulling their hair a bit!

Ode To My Darling Sun

#arijackz #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #astrology observations #muah

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ienvieu · 2 years

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a big fuck you to my pops and ma

#made me crawl through twelve entire years of school where i never knew the languages of #every year i started at the bottom bc we moved to a new country again #fucking fantastic #oh look first grade in this country second grade in that country third grade in that country fourth fifth sixth seventh eighth ninth tenth—#every year they force me to go and be the best when i never even had a chance in the first place #go through twelve years of swimming in a pile of dog shit did i #and then they wonder why i feel like bringing calamity on everyone who fails classes in their native language #fuck every one of them #i fought tooth and nail to get good grades while learning their language and they have the fucking guts to just go and fail #stupid bunch of lot they are #i hated them #they dont know how lucky they are #god i am so done. just done.#i want to die #they have me thinking about how i could take a certain step into oncoming traffic so that i can get away with broken arms and a three month #coma. that's not normal #ninth graders are never supposed to be thinking about all of the ways they can stage an accident #kids arent supposed to try and find ways to 'accidentally' walk into oncoming traffic just to get out of being alive for a couple of months #just to not have to deal with anything anymore #i hate everything #kids arent supposed to look longingly at any dangerous object wishing someone would 'accidentally' end them with it #kids arent supposed to feel like they're going to lose their minds breaking down into bits and pieces at every single inconvenience #kids arent supposed to feel helplessly angry everyday #kids arent supposed to feel hopeless everyday #kids arent supposed to wish that they'd been aborted every day #and yet here we are #i want to crawl into a hole and perish my hand is aching so so bad i should have tried to reign in my anger #the knuckles are sweilling up too fuck this shit im out #its always the same exact two knuckles turning blue #someone just put me out of my misery

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getodrools · 3 months

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Your hand plowed through thick raven hair – the ends detangling at the sharp tug. Suguru kept his breath steady and gave you that level, dark-eyed gaze defensive players all over the league had learned to dread, “You just can't stay mad at me for too long huh.” His teeth are pearly white, and that lady killer grin irked the hell out of you.

“Oh shut up…” You giggle at the truth.

Tossing your head back as he nips along your collarbone, you whisper, “Y’know… you seriously didn't need to tackle Gojo so hard—you broke his nose and damn near fractured your skull!”

Getou shakes his head.

“He should keep his head in the game then. That sonavabitch’ had his nose all up in your skirt baby.” Your boyfriend grunted with that long drawl you always seem to shiver at.

Sighing, he hooks a finger around that very pitch black and purple sparkled skirt that had his team's logo shimmering on it. You nibble at your bottom lip, his touch was warm but…,

“Maybe ‘cause… I wasn't wearing any—!”, Should've known a linebacker like him was strong, “You what?!” Giggling and begging for his hands to give your hips freedom from their teasing pinches, Getou just needed to see this with his very own eyes.

You had to be teasing him.

Gojo was gazing in pure awe…

Though it was dark in the field, you could swear those hues held galaxies as they trekked down an expedition between your bodies. Shivering, his free hand flips the thin fabric over in certain desire. Free from a soft barrier, he catches sappy slick webbing lewdly between the heat of your legs.

His jaw tightens.

With the situation entirely worse now! It itched something in him fully knowing why Gojo was annoyingly closer to your squad than usual… your dirty little secret was more on his mind than Suguru coming at him full force—for something he thought else of—‘til he knocked them both breathless! Though the bones Getou got to crush ‘fairly’ during the match, it bugged at him—still and again, even now worse.

Getou’s nose curls up, you're so damn foolish sometimes! And he just can't seem to stay mad at you for too long either… you do feel warm against the pads of his hooking hands—!… All you knew was cheer! Kicking a leg up with a hoot and a holler made you smile. But damn you could still be so clueless even in that! Even wondering now if that cheap play to tackle him with a few strands of hair being pulled out after a dog pile was rubbing salt on the wound — as if Gojo knew he scored some way or the other, regardless of losing the game...

Sonavabitch’. Catching the glisten, he certainly would have to worry about that golden boy's pretty blue eyes rather than just a nosey snout now since you're cursed with the brain of a thoughtless puppy…

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE GETOU –>

#bimbo reader in mind tbh 😞#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮!#ᝰ suguru geto!#yandere geto #jjk smut #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk gojo #gojo smut #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto suguru #yandere #jjk yandere

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bloompompom · 2 months

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LOVER BOY | MINI SERIES

in which eren falls hard for you, his friend-with-benefits who insists she isn't looking for anything serious

PART ONE - all that glitters

⟡ content: eren jaeger x female reader, good old-fashioned college au, fwb-to-lovers, mutual pining/idiots in love, cheesy rom-com, smut fic with feelings, fluff, angst, sexual content, explicit language, alcohol, drunk sex. reader discretion advised. 18+ ⟡ word count: ~3k ⟡ masterlist (1/4) ⟡ a/n: writing has been a struggle but this came to me in a vision. i needed something easy and fun to get me back in the swing of things. enjoy ♡

“Eren.”

You whined his name in that signature drunken way, with the last syllable drawn out and pronounced like a plea—as if pleading with him was ever necessary.

“What’re you doing right now?” you asked. “D’you wanna fuck?”

No, not really. But Eren would make sure you made it back to your dorm room alive and as well as one could be after too many drinks. Still, he couldn’t deny how the back of his neck warmed at the offer.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Where are you at?”

After the call ended, it was only a matter of seconds before his friends predictably started heckling him.

Connie hung his headset around his neck, shooting Eren this too-knowing look when he asked, “Lemme guess who that was.”

“How about you don’t?” Despite Eren’s flat affect, his words had a biting edge. He kept his head down as he shrugged his jacket over his shoulders.

This wasn’t the first time Connie broached the subject, also known as you. Although it proved to be a sore spot for Eren, Connie didn’t plan to stop poking any time soon.

“Dude, she’s got you pussy-whipped,” he barked, “with a capital P, dude.”

“You said ‘dude’ twice,” Eren groused, hoping that would be the end of it. When the baiting look on Connie’s face didn’t let up, Eren felt compelled to defend himself. “I’m not pussy-whipped. She’s at a party and needs someone to walk her home.”

Connie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before.”

Lounged on his bottom bunk, Jean glanced from his phone screen to Eren. “You know, these sorts of arrangements—friends-with-benefits, fuck buddies, whatever weird thing you two have going on—they don’t normally end well.”

Jean said it smartly, in that been-there-done-that way as if his longest relationship wasn’t with his right hand. Before Eren could call him out on it, Connie jumped in on the dog pile.

“And last time I checked, they don’t involve catching feelings,” he asserted, thinking he'd added something meaningful to the conversation.

“I didn’t catch feelings,” Eren refuted.

“Then tell me straight up you’re going over there for pussy and not because you think she’s magically going to wake up one morning and want to have a serious, exclusive relationship with you after literal months of saying otherwise.”

Ouch.

“It is exclusive,” Eren corrected, though his delivery was a bit shaky. “I mean, I’m not sleeping around.”

“Well, duh. But is she?”

Eren realized he had no idea if you were sleeping with anyone else. Why was he so quick to assume you had been faithfully fucking him? That wasn’t in the terms of your agreement.

Regardless of what (or who) you did when he wasn’t around, you called him tonight over anyone else. That had to mean something, right? At the very least, it meant the decency of giving him a heads-up if you were fucking someone else, he liked to think.

“I don’t think so,” Eren said. “She hasn’t mentioned anyone, and I’m sure she’d tell me if—”

Connie guffawed. “God, you are down so fucking bad. Just admit it to yourself.”

Eren had already done that a long time ago but they didn’t need to know that. Truthfully, they didn’t need to know anything about you, yet all three of his roommates managed to acquaint themselves with you despite never having met.

Eren tried to keep his fling with you under wraps—not for any special reason other than it was none of his friends’ business. But if he thought he was being sneaky, then he was doing a shit job at it because his friends caught on fast. After they spotted a poorly-hidden hickey, it didn’t take much to pull the dirty secret from him.

But it wasn’t really that dirty of a secret, was it? They understood it; why would he stick around and play video games with them when he could be getting his dick sucked? What they didn’t understand was why he continued doting on you like he was your boyfriend—no, like he was your puppy, loyal and entirely dedicated to you while maintaining that it was nothing more than casual sex.

Fat fucking chance. They would never believe such a thing. They knew Eren better than that. They knew he wasn’t meant for casual.

Eren bristled but held his tongue. Connie was right, and whatever bullshit Eren could spout wouldn’t be worth the breath; they’d never believe him.

If only he’d kept his mouth shut in the first place. At least then he wouldn’t need to dread this collective ‘I told you so!’ from friends who were all too eager to say it.

Lest he wished for this to devolve into the world’s shittiest intervention, Eren left without another word—not even a ‘goodbye’ in reply to Armin, ever the diplomat, hiding out on his top bunk until he deemed it safe. Unfortunately for Eren, his silence (and the slammed door) spoke louder than anything he could have said.

You’d sent Eren your location because you didn’t have half a mind to explain your whereabouts. Not to mention, the streets back on Fraternity Row were old and cobbled and poorly lit. You were a few blocks over from Eren, only a five-minute walk. Four, if he picked up his pace.

Had it really been months since this whole thing started?

You and Eren were introduced under more formal circumstances. He couldn’t confidently say you would have met if not for your professor’s intervention. She randomly assigned partners for the final project, stating everyone needed to ‘branch out'—as if they needed another freshman orientation course. Looking back now, Eren could appreciate the icebreaker.

That was in November. He met with you on a Friday only to spend the rest of the weekend with you on his mind. He remembered it well. For good reason, too; he’d never made out in a library before.

Neither had you, apparently. That was what you told him, whispered between giggles as you rose from your chair. You knew you were up to no good as you slipped into his lap, and you wore a glittery smile to match.

Eren’s conscience told him otherwise, but the more bestial part of his brain had already justified it with boyishly sound reasoning as to why it was perfectly okay.

First off, the two of you were tucked away in a secluded corner, hidden behind bookshelves blanketed in dust older than his college career. He hadn’t heard so much as a footstep the entire hour he’d spent here.

Secondly, who would come to the library this late on a Friday anyway?

It made for quite the compelling argument, outside of the fact that he himself was one of those Friday night library goers.

Eren couldn’t explain how you ended up there, astride his lap with his bottom lip sucked swollen and drawn between your teeth, other than stating the obvious: the attraction between you was instantaneous and the conditions were just right. The literature was just horrifically boring enough; the tension between you was palpable, nibbled away at bit by bit like a mouse gnawing on a cord. Accidental touches, as chaste as a hand brushed against his, became deliberate and lasted longer than the last. You would sit close, then closer, and move in a way that Eren would catch thin whiffs of your perfume, a sweet scent at the tip of his nose but warm in the pit of his stomach.

And like a cord, you risked a fateful snap: the moment you’d realize you were far more interested in each other than any ten-point word on the page—when you’d agree to leave the project abandoned on the table and let it fade into insignificance.

Eren didn’t know the last time someone made his heart beat that hard, if ever. Hard enough that he remembered worrying you’d feel it. Of course, it could have been from the thrill, but he had to admit you left him feeling completely caught off guard. He wasn’t sure if the feeling ever truly went away.

Exactly one week later, he discovered you had some friends-of-a-friend in common after bumping into each other at a house party. You approached him, eyes half-lidded, pupils dilated, but your smile as glittery as he remembered. You introduced him to a few girls, laying a hand on his arm as you said, “This is the project partner I was telling you about.” It flattered Eren to know you'd mentioned him, but more than that, it told him that you’d been thinking about him, too.

You brought him back to your room that night. It was the obvious choice between the suite Eren shared with three other guys or the single you miraculously snagged.

It was fun—and Eren knew how it sounded when he said that. ‘Fun’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind when he thought about having drunk sex with a near stranger. Fumbling and awkward, yes. But fun? Not so much.

Yet with you, it was.

The pressure he put on himself melted away at the touch of your hand. Maybe that was the moment, if he had to name one, when he first felt something. Something that ran deeper than a hormone-induced make-out session in the library and deeper than any one-night stand. All you had to do was be you. The drunk version of you—of both of you—but still you, nonetheless.

You kissed him not on your half-lofted bed but you were on your way there. Eren had your back pressed against it before breaking the kiss to take off your shirt. You helped him with his next.

Your hands immediately flew to his stomach, palming over the muscles in a way Eren wouldn’t describe as sexual—more like you were impressed.

“Whoa,” you remarked with a sort of wonder he didn’t expect. You squeezed his bicep next and then glanced down at your own. “Do you think I can get those?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you my gym routine,” Eren laughed. Though he supposed he didn’t really have a routine, he just went to blow off steam.

He pulled you into him, snuffing out your giggles with a kiss.

Confessedly, he came fast—not that fast, but quicker than he would have preferred. But he liked to think he made up for it, fingering and eating you until he was hard again and could go for round two. You sure seemed to like it.

When it was all said and done, Eren lay there and imagined falling asleep at your side, while you were already hopping out of bed.

Ugh. Putting it like that made him sound like a girl.

You exchanged numbers before parting ways, and he dedicated another weekend to you, this time planning his text to ask you on a date. He took so long that you reached out first, sending what you called your fuck it! text, both figuratively and literally—you cheekily threw that into the message, too.

When Eren agreed to ‘just sex, nothing else,’ he thought it was making the obvious choice. What idiot would say no to that? It sounded like the college dream, and that was what it was supposed to be, up until it wasn’t.

From then on, the time you should have spent working on your project, you spent fucking. Shameful but true. It was probably the reason you received a C. As it turned out, humans don’t retain much information when attempting to read aloud while another went down on them. Maybe the two of you should have done your project on that instead.

It was nearly spring now. The soggy beginning of the season as winter finally began to melt away. The night was rain-soaked. Eren could smell the remnants of the downpour on the asphalt as he walked against the breeze, chilly enough for him to hide his hands in his jacket pockets.

He approached the bustling house to find you sitting alone on the stoop, legs bent at the knee and a bit knobbled. He called out for you and watched a gigantic smile capture your face. The sight made his chest tighten.

Eren held out his hands for you to take and tugged you to your feet.

“Where are your friends?” he asked you.

“I dunno,” you absently said.

You passed him as you crossed the lawn. When you reached the sidewalk, you spun on your heels to see if Eren was following. He was.

“Don’t worry, I texted them that I was leaving.” You started to laugh. “Told them I had a booty call.”

“A booty call?” Eren pretended you wounded him, clasping a hand over his chest. “Is that all I am to you? And here I was thinking we were friends.”

You giggled as you kept your attention on steadying your stride. A bumpy sidewalk plus a few drinks past your limit didn’t make for a coordinated combination. Your arm brushed against Eren’s every few steps.

“Seriously though,” he started to say. “Shouldn’t your friends be the ones to get you home?”

“You are my friend.” You beamed up at him, eyes heavy but happy. “You said so yourself.”

He smiled back at you, genuine but closed-mouth, and didn’t flinch as your cold hand nudged a path into his for warmth.

He guided you into your residence hall and joined your elevator ride up to the eighth floor. He walked you down the left wing to the room at the very end of the hallway and swiped your student ID to unlock the door. He reached to flip the light switch but found it was already on.

“You left the light on,” Eren commented, closing the door as he followed you inside.

Your dorm was no larger than any other, but it sure felt like it with just one bed, tucked into the corner and still unmade from this morning. Your desk sat opposite it, with a window on the back wall dividing the two. The last time Eren saw your desk, he had you on it. By now, the clutter had been put back in its rightful place—a few loose papers and your open laptop—and doubled as a makeshift vanity with your tabletop mirror.

You hummed blithely before nearing him in a few steps. You went to kiss him, even had your hands on either side of his face, but you only caught the corner of his mouth. He took you by the shoulders and held you at arm’s length. Even from there, your breath reeked of vodka.

“You need to get some sleep,” he told you.

“I will,” you purred. “After—”

You shook free of his hands and peeled off your shirt, faltering slightly in the process. You tried to kiss him again, thinking your bare chest would surely tempt him.

When Eren didn’t budge, you pouted, “You tricked me.”

“Tricked is a pretty harsh word, don’t you think?”

Eren grabbed the t-shirt draped on your desk chair and plunged it over your head before he started to stare for too long. You scrambled to sort out its sleeves.

“So you came all this way just to tuck me in?” Your head popped through the neck hole to reveal your frown. “You’re not even going to have sex with me?”

“That’s right.”

You shimmied your jeans down your legs, glaring up at him. “You’re so boring.”

“I know,” he airily replied. He ticked his head. “Bed.”

You were drunk enough to listen obediently but kept your frown as you shuffled into your bed. As you crawled beneath the blankets, you watched Eren take a water bottle from your mini fridge and set it on your bedside cubby. Before his hand was out of reach, you lightly wrapped a hand around his wrist.

You intertwined your fingers with his, sweeping yours up and down the length of each. “You’re at least going to kiss me good night, right?”

You were always so touchy-feely when you drank.

Eren held his breath. His eyes followed as you pressed your palm against his, compared their sizes, and played with his fingers. It almost felt like you were pulling at something much deeper in him. A puppet and his puppeteer.

He knew what he wanted to do, but his friends’ words resounded in the forefront of his mind, listing the exact reasons why this was a bad idea. Then he went and did it anyway.

Eren leaned in to kiss you, not on your lips but sealed against your forehead. With his hand cradling your cheek to hold you there for that one, long second.

It wasn’t the kiss you wanted, but even so, you stared up at him in drunken awe. Softly, and with a softer smile, you told him, “Thank you for walking me back.” You nuzzled deeper into the bed, closing your eyes as you rambled, “You’re so nice, Eren. Didya know that?”

“I’ll be sure to remind you of that the next time you call me mean,” he teased before turning to leave.

You piped up again. Your voice was already sleepier than just a second ago, sounding smushed against your pillow as you murmured, “If I’m not married by forty, and you’re not married by forty, can we get married?”

He gave a tiny laugh through his nose. You were cute, weren’t you? He knew you wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. Or if you did, you’d profusely (and needlessly) apologize for it.

“You’ll be married by forty. You don’t have to worry about that,” Eren said, half-way out the door.

You responded with nothing more than a satisfied sound, drifting to sleep as quickly as Eren expected.

The heavy lock clicked behind him, but Eren gave it a final jiggle to ensure it. He heaved a sigh, leaning back against your door with a thud you thankfully wouldn’t hear.

This was a huge mistake, wasn’t it?

masterlist | next part

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #aot x reader

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asoftepiloguemylove · 1 year

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i never grew up with you and you're not my waiting room

Marjane Satrapi Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood / unknown / Clementine von Radics / Clementine von Radics / image (unknown) quote (Richard Siken Crush) / Louise Glück from Unpainted Door, "Poems 1962-2012" / unknown / image (unknown) quote (Phoebe Bridgers Moon Song)

i. Marjane Satrapi, Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood

[ "What is childhood like? It's a little like dying, a little like being born. Which is to say, it's nothing you can remember, but you know there was blood." ]

ii. unknown

[ Floating cutout of a wolf on a black background. Text surrounds the image. "NOTHING WILL BE LEFT OF ME / BUT A MEMORY / BUT EVEN THAT WILL DIE OFF TOO" ]

iii. Clementine von Radics

[ "Every time a man yells / you are seven years old again / and he is packing that suitcase / once more. Picking you up by the neck, / teaching you obedience. To be soft, / like the belly of a fish / exposed to a knife." ]

iv. Clementine von Radics

[ "When I imagine myself I am barely there." ]

v. Richard Siken, Crush

[ The background image is of two black men standing face to face. The man of the left holds the back of the man on the right's head. They are posed intimately with their foreheads touching. The words are cut out like a collage and placed in the middle of the image. "he / touches / you, / like a / prayer / for which / no / words / exist, / and you / feel / your heart / taking / root / in your / body, / like / you've / discovered / something / you didn't / even / have / a name / for." ]

vi. Louise Glück, Unpainted Door

[ Screenshot of a tumblr post from @/weltenwellen "I remember my childhood as a long wish to be elsewhere." Louise Glück from "Unpainted Door", Poems 1962-2012 ]

vii. unknown

[ "You can never leave home. / You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." ]

viii. Phoebe Bridgers, Moon Song

[ Edited collage. The background image is of a teenage boy laying on a pile of books while his dog lays with it's chin on his neck. The words are cut on paper at the top and bottom of the image. There are silver stars sporadically placed on the image. "so i will wait for the next time you want me / like a dog with a bird at your door" ]

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batbusiness-schooldropout · 1 year

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A huge dog pile of batfam on the floor.

Duke: So....what's going on?

Dick: There you are! Pick a spot and get comfy!

Duke: Usually when someone asks a question, they'd like an answer

Alfred: Apologies, I forget you are still new to some of the family's traditions. While Master Dick is a very successful interplanetary diplomat, he finds being off-world to be quite trying.

Jason: The fastest way to calm down Big Bird is to squash him with the weight of everyone B refuses to kick out

Bruce: Half of you don't live here. Although there are rooms for you all if you'd like

Duke: You're in there too Bruce? I don't see you

Bruce: Apparently I'm too heavy to be anywhere but the bottom. Now hurry up and join in

Duke: Alright. How long are we cuddling?

Steph: Until the man of the hour feels better or someone's ribs pop out. Which won't be long because SOMEONE didn't get rid of their guns and one is right in my ribs!

Jason: That would be Timmy's bony elbows

Tim: I'm nowhere near you two!

Cass: It's me. Sorry

#batfam #just siblings being siblings #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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trashmouth-richie · 2 months

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the boy is mine // ziggy’s version ♡

@carolmunson prompt

♡firstly, i’m so excited about this, for the unification this could have for all of us fandom wide— hopefully there are more ideas like this in the future 💕

tw: depictions of hard times, established relationship, blue collar (?) vibes, money troubles, but you’re in love so it’s a non issue. fluffy, illusions to smut but nothing mentioned.

1.3k

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.

props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook.

dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order):- "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" - "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true."- "and you like that?"- "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Birthdays.

Something rarely celebrated between the two of you. Even though you both agree every year would be different, every new year’s resolution—sworn to do it, but always falling short.

Until this year.

It wasn’t a pony or a working television, and still with the daily struggle of bills piling up and work slowing down— Eddie promised himself, your day would be special.

He dipped into the ‘broken window’ fund— started when some little shits tossed rocks at the “freak’s house”. It consisted of an empty pickle jar that lived in the same dark bottom cabinet holding the potatoes.

Just a few bucks, that’s all he would need until payday on friday.

The shopping basket was nearly pathetic looking as he scoured aisles for a special treat, realizing he had come up short when he needed an extra few bucks for gas.

Putting back the cake mix, the card, and a pack of twizzlers—Eddie left the store with a single can of vanilla frosting, the off brand kind.

He rushed home, hoping to still have enough time to beat you there before your shift ended at work.

Scrounging for the small notebook you got him for christmas, he flipped through the pages filled with past conversations about the pros and cons of leaving the trailer park, a forgotten list for groceries, and an even shorter list of bills that could be pushed back a few days.

He finally finds a clean sheet, clear of pen marks and gets to work. His hands flew with D&D esque inspired calligraphy, scrawling “happy birthday baby!” with a tiny jagged heart at the bottom with his initials.

A car door slams on creaky hinges and he knew you were home before even hearing your soft footsteps on the worn concrete— giving him only seconds to do a quick sniff of his pits and rake through his hair with his fingers— rings getting stuck along the way.

Your keys jingle on your finger as you lug your purse by its strap, nearly to the ground like you were walking a dog on a leash.

“There she is,”

The same cheesy charmer line he had greeted you with since you were teens meeting between classes by your locker, faces wedged almost as one to kiss as much as you could before being late. Hormones on fire.

Eddie ‘benjamin button’ Munson aged backwards, you were sure of it. Where you looked exhausted at any given hour, Eddie's puppy dog eyes grew bigger every day, not a single wrinkle on his cherub face.

“Hey babe,” you yawned with a hand covering your mouth, “did’y have a good day?”

His smile, all dimples and porcelain teeth stretched a mile wide along with his arms as you walked into them, pressing your cheek to the middle of his chest, arms slung lazy on his hips.

“Always a good day babe, never bad. And..someone, not sure who, has a birthday.”

Lifting your head his chin is dipped to you, “someone doesn’t like their birthday, Eddie— it’s a waste.”

You never had, it was never happy before Eddie— stemming from divorced parents fighting about which one should pick up the cake, and who was buying the gifts because ‘I did it last year’ which ultimately dissolved into you telling them not to worry about it because it was just another day.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Eddie frowns, “that’s not even true.”

You grumble into his shirt tossing your head further into him inhaling his scent. He kisses your hairline and strokes your back before working to remove your coat.

“Five years we’ve been together, it’s time we celebrate shit, sweetheart.”

Mumbling a drawn out ‘fiiine’ into him he tips your chin, with a curl of his forefinger, a little smirk on his lips.

“You’re really cute when you pout y’know it?”

“and you like that?”

His lips slot against yours, and you hum with content, “oh darlin’” he says with a fake southern drawl, “I love it.”

The tub was filled with the warmest temperature the water heater would allow— which wasn’t a lot, but still, it felt nice on your sore muscles from your shift at the same plant both Eddie and Wayne worked at, opposite shifts from you.

Eddie’s rings clacked on the plastic edge as he slid his long legs around yours into the water, sitting on the other end of the tub. He had helped you undress, hanging your coat on the back of a chair, giving you the beautiful homemade card that made tears spring to your eyes.

He followed behind you into the bathroom, running the water and putting the drain stopper into the drain before he ran back out to the kitchen returning with arms filled with stuff that he kept hidden from you until you were comfortably sitting in the cramped bathtub.

He plugged in an emerald strand of colorful christmas lights that you didn’t even know you had. It filled the cluttered countertop, weaving around the bar of soap and kitchen cup designated for holding your toothbrushes, lighting the bathroom in a cozy Christmas ambience… in April.

“We ran out of like, nice cups— is this okay?” He asked before pouring a can of Busch light into two red cups that were nabbed from Benny’s before it shut down.

Scrunching your face you move your arms from the depths of the water to reach out for his extended offering of warm beer, “when have we ever had nice cups?”

He laughed shrugging, “yeah, you’re right.”

Sitting square in front of you, long legs bent and wide open, Eddie holds up his cup in a cheers, “to you, my love, my sweet beautiful hotter than hell girl who for some reason fell for my charm, happy birthday.”

Clinking a his cup with yours you both smile before taking a swig of the cheap warm beer.

“mm, that’s nice.. what year?” you tease, never even having wine in your life.

He plays along like he always does, swirling the cup and putting the tip of his nose to the rim, “ah yes, a refined 1989 I believe— a good year for Busch I've heard.”

You both laugh until your sides ache. This is why you adored him, making a normal day special by just being him—corny, cheesy, poor— and you had never been happier.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, reaching out of the tub, ribs stretching taunt against his skin, soap sliding down them.

He grabs a lighter from the counter and opens the tub of frosting. Brandishing a white waxed candle tucked behind his ear with the flair of a magician, he plants it in the center before lighting the wick and sitting down roughly in the tub, water splashing onto the floor.

The flame lit up his features, his tongue poked out in concentration, the yellow light filling his dark pudding eyes with a boyish glee, and then they met yours.

“Should I sing?”

You shake your head, happy tears stinging your eyes, “no, this is perfect,”

“Well make a wish.”

You close your eyes tight not knowing what to wish for because all you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you. Blowing out the candle you lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth, hard and deep.

The beer tipped into the tub and was long forgotten as your lips worked down his neck, wet strands of hair curled around, his arms pulling you in, making you sit on his naked lap, the frosting birthday cake sitting on the floor.

You kiss for awhile, your chest pressed into his, his hands squeezing your ass, the heel of his foot knocking the plug from the drain.

“If you don’t stop,” you mutter between kisses, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie smirks, dimples poking out, stroking your cheek thumb sweeping your swollen bit lip, “throw pillow is already on the bed, besides, I’m not afraid of a little trouble baby.”

#carols prompts #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

Text

Yes, Major

Dom!Croz. “Yes, Major.” That is all <3

Warnings: mature content (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, praise kink), swearing

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

(oof tumblr absolutely destroyed the quality of this moodboard I’m sorry y’all 😭)

You suppress a shiver at the feeling of your husband’s hand trailing up your thigh, his other hand on the steering wheel as you head home.

The two of you had been making eyes at each other and leaving lingering touches all night, so when you finally arrive home, it comes as no surprise that Harry wastes no time in leading you up to your bedroom.

He presses you up against the bedroom door, his lips just barely out of reach, a teasing, predatory glint in his eye.

“Harry…” you whine softly, aching to have his mouth on yours, your gaze locked on his pretty lips.

Two fingers lift your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“Major.”

Oh, Christ. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any wetter…

“Not Harry or Bing tonight, sweet girl.” he murmurs, thumb dragging lightly over your bottom lip as his brown eyes darken, “Major.”

You feel like you’re on fire, every part of you melting as you gulp and whisper “Yes, Major.”

He hums approvingly.

“Good girl.”

Forget melting, you’re evaporating under the heat of his gaze as his fingertips trail teasingly up your side before he steps away, pulling you with him.

He toys with the side snaps of your dress as he perches on the edge of your bed, leaving you standing between his spread legs.

“Take this off, honey,” he murmurs, his voice soft but the words clearly an order.

“Yes, Major,” you breathe, suppressing a shiver as your hands fumble with the snaps, undoing each one until your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in your slip.

His eyes drink you in, fingers barely skimming over the white satin of your slip, and you think you might actually die if he doesn’t touch you properly soon.

Harry notes this — of course he does, with those navigator eyes.

“Tell me what you want.”

You do, even though you know he won’t do it right away. Bing isn’t quite a tease, per se, but he tends to draw things out. Make you wait for what you want.

Still, you manage to let out a soft whine.

“Want you to touch me, please.”

“I will, honey, I will.” He assures you softly, though the pressure of his fingertips remains infuriatingly light, mouth twitching up into the smallest of smiles as he adds, “In a minute.”

You bite back a despairing moan as his hands leave you entirely.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” he nods to the bed as he stands, moving to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Enraptured by the view before you, you simply nod as you climb onto the mattress, keeping your eyes on the increasing patch of chest hair being revealed to you, dog tags dangling in the middle of his chest.

“Words, honey,” Harry reminds you in a gentle-sharp tone that has delicious shivers racing up your spine— ones that definitely have nothing to do with the way his hands are currently moving to his belt.

“I— Yes, Major,” you whine, gripping the sheets none too delicately as you settle on your back onto the pillows.

“Good girl,” he says softly, his slacks joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Finally he touches you again: a featherlight drag of his fingers along your calf, prompting you to lift it.

You let out a shaky exhale as Harry bends to brush light, barely-there kisses along your calf, up your knee, towards where the hem of your slip brushes your thigh.

Praying that he’ll have mercy on you and give you what you want, you sigh a soft “Please, Major.”

“I will, sweetheart. I promise I will.” He mumbles against your skin, his lips moving… not underneath your slip, as you had hoped, but pressing light kisses to your body through the thin satin covering it.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, darling,” he murmurs, his lips dragging over your still-covered chest and up along your neck as he moves to hover over you.

You let out a soft whimper when his pretty brown eyes lock on yours, his hand trailing back down along the curves of your body to slide just underneath the hem of your slip, fingertips trailing up the inside of your thigh.

He inhales sharply as he brushes against the damp fabric covering your core.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, “All that for me?”

“Yes, yes, I—” you ramble, “All for you, Major, please—”

“Shhh, I gotcha, sweetheart,” he murmurs, watching rapt as he slips a finger under your panties to drag through your damp folds.

You let out a high, keening whine, throwing your head back as he slowly pushes one finger into you, pumping in and out before adding a second.

Soft whines escape as he fingers you, mumbles of “feels good” and “more, want more, please” tumbling from your lips as he remains infuriatingly steady in his rhythm. His thumb darts out from where his other hand is resting on the pillows next to your head to stroke along your cheek, his way of getting your attention.

As your eyes meet his once more, he asks in a low tone, still maintaining that slow, steady rhythm in and out of you, “You want more?”

At your furious nodding, a gasp of “yes, please” escaping you, he hums.

“Please what?”

You can hardly think, your need for more speed, more something taking up a majority of your brain, but you manage to dredge up a plea of “Please, Major,” and suddenly more is happening.

Harry slips a third finger inside you, an act that has you moaning loudly at the stretch, and that combined with his thumb on your clit and the pace that suddenly feels faster than a B-17 has you tumbling over the edge with a cry.

You come back to yourself, legs shaking, in time to feel him gently remove his fingers. You let out a soft whine at the sudden emptiness, letting your eyes open to a sight that has heat rushing to your core all over again.

Your husband has his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, and when he meets your eyes you see something utterly molten in his gaze.

“Christ, honey…” he groans, moving to hover over you properly once more, “You stay right here, yeah? Something I wanna do…”

With that, he moves down your body, pressing kisses over your slip to your chest, your stomach, until he’s settled between your legs, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs.

You crane your neck to watch as he slowly lifts the hem of your slip, revealing your underwear. You watch, holding your breath as he maintains eye contact and brushes a kiss to your core over the fabric covering you as his fingers toy with the waistband.

“‘M gonna take these off now, alright, sweetheart?”

You suppress a gasp at the words mumbled so close to your most sensitive parts.

“Yes, Major.” You nod, and can’t help adding a soft “please.”

You feel him grinning as he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“Good girl.”

He gently peels off your underwear, adding it to the pile of clothes on your bedroom floor.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, lips a hairsbreadth away from your core, “do you have any idea how pretty you look from down here?”

Before you can even think of replying, his mouth is on you and your hands are flying to grip his hair with a gasp.

You cry out his name before you can correct yourself, hips arcing off the bed, and as soon as it was there, his mouth is gone.

“What was that, sweetheart?” He asks lowly.

“I—”

It takes your mind a moment to catch up, but when you do…

“You said you were gonna be good for me, honey,” he warns, his mouth still far too close to your core for you to truly think clearly, “So let’s try again. What’s my name?”

He licks a fat stripe up through your folds, and you throw your head back onto the pillows with a cry of his rank.

“Major!”

“Much better,” he praises in mumbles against you, “good girl.”

The room fills with your whines and gasps and moans as you lose the ability to form words entirely when Harry’s thumb comes up to gently circle your clit, the combination of his tongue inside you and his thumb on the bundle of nerves enough to have you quickly approaching your second orgasm of the night.

“M-Major…” you stammer out between whines, your fingers raking roughly through his curls.

“Already, darling?” He murmurs against you, sounding almost amused, “Go on then, honey. Let go, it’s okay.”

You reach your second climax with your husband's rank on your tongue and his tongue on your core as he greedily laps up your release.

“Fuck, you taste absolutely perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs as he returns to hover over you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss before rolling off of you briefly to wriggle out of his boxers.

“Think you can give me one more, honey?” He asks softly, grinding his length slowly against you.

You can’t help it: you moan out loud at the feeling of him against you before confirming with a pleading “Yes, Major, yes please, I want to—”

“Christ, sweetheart, okay, okay,” he murmurs, breath hitching as the tip of his cock snags on your entrance. He rocks forward, letting out a groan as he sinks into you.

“Oh- shit, honey, you’re perfect,” he sighs against your lips, your breaths mingling as you gasp into his mouth.

His eyes remain locked on your own as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, hips snapping determinedly against yours. You give in to the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, clamping down on your bottom lip to bite back a moan as he hits deep inside you.

Your eyes fly open once more as he gives a sharp nip to your neck, his nose dragging along your jaw as he murmurs, “Wanna hear you, darling, lemme hear you, come on…”

Your mouth falls open to let out a wanton moan, words tumbling out as tension builds within you with every thrust.

“Major— Major, don’t stop, please, feels so good—”

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he pants against you, feeling you clench around him, “Come on, give me one more, just one more, honey.”

You shatter as you reach your third climax of the night, your body nearly going limp as you cry out. He buries his face in your neck as, with two more erratic thrusts, he follows suit with a shuddering cry before slumping against you, utterly spent.

He presses sloppy kisses up your neck as the two of you attempt to catch your breath, murmuring gentle praise as he pulls out of you — “you’re perfect, angel, did so good for me, such a good girl” — huffing out a laugh as you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks softly as he settles in next to you, pulling you into his chest, “It wasn’t too much, was it?”

You hum contentedly, toying with the tags dangling in the middle of his chest.

“Not at all, Major,” you assure him, a teasing sparkle in your eyes on the last word. He laughs, and you continue, “It was perfect, Harry.”

His eyes go soft hearing his name, and he leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, thumb stroking gently along your cheek.

“I love you too, Bing,” you say softly, raking your fingers through his mussed curls.

He pulls you closer, resting your head on his chest as you finally allow sleep to overtake you both.

#yes major 🫡🫠#harry crosby #harry crosby x reader #harry crosby fic #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #mota #mota fic #mota smut #mota x reader #my writing

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weebsinstash · 4 months

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the brand new Angel Dust song that just came out has me thinking how absolutely fucked a Reader who is a dancer/musician/singer/producer would be with a yandere Valentino because it really does seem like, coming off of just the general materials and vibes I'm getting, that Valentino also turns his pornstars into sort of miniature celebrities, dare I say, idols even, which would maybe inherently fit the theme of Hazbin Hotel being a musical sort of show at heart. People break out into song, Asmodeus runs a club where music is performed, Angel sings as he strips, Alastor just... as is like just his entire aesthetic and musical number was 🤌, sing about being horny, sing about being addicted, sing about being sad, I dunno there's just an inherent love of music in all of it

I've never really posted about it in detail but I've thought of the ever so elusive MALE READER x Valentino (or transdude/intersex Reader because like, I guess i would, have to, accurately research what having a dick would feel like for smut of that and, I don't know, it's my turn on the gender power fantasy and I say--)

Male Reader who just keeps to himself and waits on Val's table "because you're too stiff, you'll scare off other customers" and one night the Overlord just catches you seemingly alone sweeping floors/cleaning while dancing/singing something, that whole trope where you just don't see him or have your eyes closed and practically do a full musical number until you notice him, just like seating himself in a chair, smoking a cigar, looking at you all smug and horny and thinking of all the different things he could use you (and your holes) for

Absolutely does he exploit weakness and if you don't have a prior addiction, he'll get you one. He'll shotgun something straight into your mouth, mix something into your weed, put a pill in your drink, nudge you towards that alcohol you're trying to stay away from, he'll do it all. He'll get you so fucked up your entire body is buzzing and you're stumbling and you can barely even move and that's when he pounces on you, doing whatever he wants, looking at whatever he wants, touching wherever he wants, and you might not even remember it afterwards and you'll only find out when he shoves his phone full of pictures in your face to mock you

You can't stay closeted/hiding an interest for men around this creep because he'd be secretly feeding you like ecstacy or something that loosens your lips and has you blabbing all your secrets and feelings to him in a horny fucked up haze. The blackmail potential with this dude is IMMENSE. He'd get you fucked up and delirious and film a cell phone shot of you taking his dick and threaten to show it to everyone he wants to unless you do whatever he says (and he's already showing it to people behind your back anyways, but, it's to be gross and coo over how cute and sexy you look taking his loads, stuff like that)

Valentino would take that passion and talent for music that you have and do something gross with it. Oh you're an actor, huh? Good, good, so your reaction will be experienced and authentic when he asks you to bring him a coffee on set and suddenly you're being literally dog-piled on by like 5 ripped hung hellhounds while cameras are rolling :) he thinks he might have an interest in your body, oh, suddenly there's a mandatory employee calendar photoshoot where you he to wear a thong or something skimpy and he can see everything but your genitals (and can tell whatever the situation down there is if you were trying to hide it. Fat ass? Exposed. Secretly a grower/hung? Exposed.)

At the end of the day you're his bottom bitch no matter how big or tough or maybe not even gay you are, because he even has lesbians cuddle up to him for Hot Girl Clout and that shit was on his Instagram. Everything's about him having pretty trophies and nice things and pampering himself while treating others like shit. Yeah, you'll be his little caged pet he obsesses over, but you'll be a very decorated, very well-fed, very financially spoiled little caged pet. If you're gonna get regularly railed by some nasty huge egotistical demon, it might as well come with some sweet perks like a deep bank account and all the luxuries his self-absorbed ass can afford, right?

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere stuff #valentino x reader #sinprompts

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 1 day

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Mirror: The Fiction and Essays of Kōda Aya translated by Ann Sherif

The papers in those days always had some amazing news in them - from the attempted military coup of February the year before to the start of fighting in China just three months later. A ferocious gale had come sweeping through, causing small whirlwinds some days and, at other times, a tremendous commotion that stirred up everything, even the dust in the forgotten corners of the world. I was just a speck of dust in one of the narrowest, most remote niches. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

A kimono worn by a woman immature in her emotions can be a powerful thing. Or, to put it another way, clothes have the strength to control one's psyche. To me, the striped outfit was a uniform; it gave me a sense of direction and a feeling of pride in my work. The apron shielded me from all arrows; it acted as a cast to brace me against all blows. It was a metal fire door behind which I could hide the anguish of my heart. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

What other child would fail to rise to the occasion when her father was being so honored? He was my only father, and I his only child. Is this any way to behave? I had lost my way at the bottom of a deep abyss. I cast my eyes upward, toward my father, only to see him dimly shrouded by mist. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

I know nothing about the breadth of my father's learning, nor do I pretend to understand the scope of his art. I could not tell you what came to him as a matter of luck, what he accomplished through his own talents, nor about his stature among men. Though I may be vastly ignorant, I do have enough sense not to entertain the foolish notion that he is some kind of lion of literature, a king among writers. He was just my father. From my own biased viewpoint, I would say that Father possessed some lionlike qualities, but there were those of a lion who would finish you off or give you the push-off-the-cliff test. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Father was an unusual man. He would point out the beauty of blossoms or clouds in the sky with the very whip he had cracked a moment before. With the same knife he had just used to rive your innards, he would slice up a wedge of some delicacy for you. No one else I knew could perform such feats. There was something solid about him. I felt all at once like a contrite sinner and a puppy dog who is eager to please. I wanted to cut all ties with him, but at the same time I needed him to recognize me as worthy of his love. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Higuchi Ichiyo's nephew Higuchi Etsu once said about [me and my father]: "The parent dons a medal, and the child an apron." I made a show of laughing at his comment, but only because I wanted to hide my weakness. In fact, that apron chafed against my hands and my heart with its unyielding roughness. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

One often hears about the magical powers of mirrors. Certainly the mirror's ability to reflect creates this feeling of mystery. The objects around the viewer look so different in the mirror - what was one may multiply into two or even three. Objects that had appeared to be piled up come apart. Something might look real in the mirror, but then when you try to touch it, you can't. It seems to be there but it makes no sound. Is it real or just an illusion? Sometimes you can see through things in a mirror. Some things seem actually to be alive inside the mirror, but once the reflection stops moving, the illusion of life is gone. The mirror's power resides in this ability to confound. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

My life was not going smoothly. I could not handle the problems that confronted me and became unbelievably nervous and stubborn. At times, any little thing would set me off in a rage; often I would get upset and break down in tears. I had so many things on my mind. In those days I consoled myself by leaning up against my mirror. To think how proud I had felt of it on my wedding day. Now all I could do was crouch up against it and sigh. In that house it was the only place where I felt calm. The mirror served more as a support for my emotions than as a glass in which I could see my reflection. The sunny location I had chosen for it had been part of my effort to avoid sadness and gloom in my life, but ironically it ended up lodging a darkened, tired soul. I did, in any case, feel most peaceful when I sat by my mirror. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

The first time I wiped the glass, I was shocked to discover how dirty a mirror can become. One usually does not notice the dust; a mirror will reflect even when covered with a heavy layer of grime. And once you get used to this, you may end up looking at yourself and trying to make yourself presentable with powder and lipstick, unaware that you are seeing yourself through a haze. But who bothers to dust mirrors? If even smoothly polished glass attracts dust how much more would accumulate on a troubled heart? - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

Kōda Aya has also been added to the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library!

You can find more information about Kōda Aya-sensei on the following pages:

List of Books in English Quotes and Facts Collection Fun Facts

#kōda aya #japanese literature #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #book recs #book recomendations

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viridwns · 1 year

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I hope you’re having a great Morning, Evening or Night. Could I get some Bungou Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency Headcanons with A very very flirty S/O who leaves them red in the face and Speeches just because she thinks they look cute like that. Can it be a mix of both Sfw and Nsfw :) Thank you <3

The ADA with a flirty S/O headcanons + drabbles

Donations

Masterlist

warnings: none, some dirty jokes, just fluff

Characters: Atsushi Nakajime, Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Akiko Yosano, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki

A/N: I'm not going to write NSFW, but there will be some implications on Dazai's part ofc because he's a slvt.

Atsushi Nakajime

MY BOY CANNOT HANDLE THIS OKAY

He'll already get so flustered if you compliment him, flirting will just make him combust

Atsushi is such a bottom, no one can convince me otherwise. So seeing him all red and pretty won't be that hard

You made the first move when you two met, he was and is still too shy to make any moves

He tries tho, it's so sweet

He'll try and hold your hand, but even the smallest touch makes him embarrassed

But even if he tells you to stop your flirting, he hopes you continue because he is very touch and attention deprived

'Are my eyes deceiving me or am I a witnessing an angel gracing me with his presence.' You take the hand of your lover as you stare at him with hearts visible in your eyes. Atsushi looks at you in shock, the words visibly processing in his mind. His face slowly turns red as you kiss his hand, him finally getting what you meant with your comment. He is quick to hide his embarrassed blush from you as he pulls his hand away and moves his face the other way. 'I-I'm not an angel [Y/N].' He splutters, you giggle. 'Oh but my love I am certain you are one. How could I ever be so lucky to have a outworldly being as my boyfriend!' You hug his side and sigh dramatically. You could feel the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. 'If anything you are the angel here.' He quietly mutters only for you to hear. Your heart leaps a bit at his words as you only hug him closer. You loved it when he tried to counter your flirty remarks with his own, even if they weren't the best.

Ranpo Edogawa

He will literally ignore your remarks

There is no hope for you to make him flustered

You can try all you want but he'll stare at you for a few seconds and then focus on something else again

Don't let his calm demeanor fool you tho, once he's alone and the memories of your words come back to him a pink hue can be seen on his cheeks

The only time you'll get to see him all red and flustered is when you offer to feed him candy and coo at him how cute he is

That is literally the only time

After that he's never going to be embarrassed about something again

You smirk once you spot your target. Your boyfriend was busying himself eating the pile of candy Kenji and Kyoka got while trick or treating. You slowly walk up to him, your mischievous smile only getting wider the closer you got. You couldn't blow this, not when you worked days on finding the right thing to say to fluster your detective. Ranpo was oblivious to the scheming that was happening behind his back as he finally found his favorite lollypop in the pile of goods; happily unwrapping it and plopping it in his mouth. He let out the smallest squeak when you tackled him to the ground. 'Oh heavens! It seems that I have fallen for you my dear. Not that I mind at all, you look lovely under me.' You said to him with a much exaggerated tone of voice and a wink to finish it all off. You felt proud of your actions, but that pride soon sunk into your shoes as your boyfriend looked up to you with a raised eyebrow. 'You made me drop my lollypop.' He whined as he pushed you off of him, reaching for the now dirty candy. He pouted as he got up and threw it away. You sat there flabbergasted, all your planning gone in just a split second as Ranpo was unfazed once again. 'Why can't you just react to my comments for once!' You exclaimed as you crossed your arms. Ranpo sat back down in his chair again. The pout he once had slowly turned into a smirk as he saw you sitting on the floor in front of him. You looked at him with confusion as he grabbed your chin. 'You look even lovelier on your knees for me like that.' He mocked your wink as he turned back around, your eyes widening at his comment and cheeks flushing red. 'Was that a good enough reaction for you?'

Dazai Osamu

IT'S A COMEPTION BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU

Who can make the other one blush faster?

match made in heaven fr fr

Dazai is hard to throw off guard, you can flirt with him all you want but he'll match your energy perfectly

And let's be honest, he'll get you perfectly pink by calling you belladonna

Oh how this man loves you when you flirt with him

makes him weak in his knees

He's super horny though, so don't flirt too much or you won't be able to walk the next day

You'll get to see him flustered more when your relationship progresses and he lets his walls down more often around you

But the majority of your flirts are cheesy af and he loves it

'Someone pinch me, I think I'm dreaming. How can a human who's so perfect stand in front of me?' Dazai takes your hands as he sighs lovingly. 'I am such a blessed man.' You giggle at his words, already knowing how to counter his attack. 'If Van Gogh had you as a subject, the sunflowers would have gone in the trash.' He let go of your hands to hold his hand over his heart. 'Oh my belladonna! you're going to be the death of me!' He gasped for air. 'You take my breath away, my love. Do you know that?' You bit your lip, concentrating on not getting flustered as his sweet words entered your ears. He smirked as you didn't say anything for a while. Already claiming victory, but you were far from done. ' I really like our friendship you know, especially when we make out.' It was your turn to smile as you stunned your boyfriend into silence. It didn't last long though as he grabbed your waist and gently pushed you against a wall. 'Don't think you've won my darling, I have allot more in store then you might think.' Your smile dropped as you saw his lustful gaze, but you didn't give up just yet. 'I meant what I said earlier.' You leaned in closer, making sure he could feel your breath fanning over his lips. Dazai's response was to only press closer to you. "Ah yeah? let's test that statement shall we?'

Kunikida Doppo

There are two things that can happen when you flirt with him

One: He'll get it immediately and 'get angry' with you for not being serious at work

Or two: He doesn't get it and will react super seriously

This man can not flirt if his life depended on it, his idea of flirting are sharing his ideals and then saying that you fit the majority of them

He once asked Dazai as a last resort how to deal with you and your flirts

Dazai had the time of his LIFE, he was actually so happy his suicide attempt failed that morning because he didn't want to miss this for his life

'Are you sure this will work.' The blonde man asked his colleague as he stared at your working form. He smiled at the sight of your tongue poking out because you were concentrating so hard. The brunette nodded eagerly. 'Yes yes! as long as you do it exactly as I taught you, it'll be fine!' Dazai ushered him in your direction. Kunikida swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to look as relaxed as possible. You didn't notice your lover walking up to you until he cleared his throat. You looked up from you computer screen and lit up as you saw him. 'There’s an empty spot here and I'm waiting for you to fill it.' You said to him as you patted your lap. He had to bite his tongue to keep him from bailing on his plan, he looked behind him to see Dazai standing there with his thumbs up. Kunikida shook his head as he turned his attention back to you. You looked at him suspiciously. 'Is there something wrong, love? You seem nervous.' He shook his head. 'No, it's just that I think your father is a thief.' You looked at him with an offended expression. 'Excuse me? What did you say?' He immediately panicked as he saw your furrowed brows and fire filled glare. 'I-I mean that I think your father is a thief because he stole all the stars and put them into your eyes.' He blurted out. Your glare turned into a soft expression as you registered the flirty comment. He still stood there, Dazai laughing behind him. Kunikida was slowly turning more and more red as you smiled at him. 'That was very sweet, thank you.' You replied after an agonizing long silence. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he smiled back at you. He was never going to do this again.

Akiko Yosano

She can flirt, don't get me wrong, but her flirts are mostly medically related

in short: You don't understand them half the time

which makes you have the upper hand in a flirting contest

She'll laugh most of the time at your flirty remarks

Loves the dedication you put in them when you try to make her flustered

She doesn't get flustered easily

Only really gets embarrassed when you give her a sincere and simple compliment

She's a baddie, but immediatly turns into putty when you call her beautiful

It was your monthly dat night. You were waiting calmly for your girlfriend to finish up as you stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. You knew how much effort she always put in her looks for you. But she could wear a plastic bag and be covered in mud and you'd still think God sent an angel your way. You smiled at the thoughts of your ethereal girlfriend as the stairs creaked, making you put your attention towards the sound. And there she was, the woman of your dreams in a beautiful purple dress and a face that could only be the definition of gorgeous. The corner of your lips lifted upwards as she descended the stairs towards you. 'I'm ready if you are.' She said, you couldn't take your eyes off her. 'I'm so lucky to be blessed with a beauty like you.' Your voice was soft and full of sincerity. She looked at you with those wide eyes and your heart skipped a beat as you saw her face redden. She pulled your arm and walked towards the door. 'Yeah, yeah. Let's go already.' You laughed as you opened the door for her. 'Anything for you.'

Jun'ichirō Tanizaki

He's used to it because of his sister, but that doesn't mean he is immune to it

He still gets super red every time you hit him with a flirty remark

He can't flirt, but he always has the best compliments ready for you that'll make you speechless

He always does it at the most random times too

when you're wrestling to get a hamburger in he will just sigh dreamily and call you gorgeous or something and you'll look at him all confused with your cheeks puffed out because of the food

If you flirt with him + touch him you'll get bonus points, he will not know how to act if you do that

You two were just chilling on your lovers bed with each other: You had opted on doing a face mask while eating ice cream while your boyfriend was reading a book. You looked like shit, but you never cared how you looked when you were with him. You were just putting another spoon full of chocolate sweetness into your mouth as Tanizaki looked up from his book and at you with adoring eyes. Scanning your every feature and noted the way you scrunched up your nose as the cold ice cream touched your teeth. 'You are so perfect, you know that?' He said and you stopped eating, the spoon still in your mouth as you looked at him. You raised your eyebrows as it took a few seconds for you to function again. You took the spoon out of your mouth and swallowed the ice cream, suddenly very conscious about your looks. '...thanks?' You said with a questionable tone. He just hummed and stared at you longingly for a few more seconds before going back to his book. You looked at him, sighing at how adorable your boyfriend was. A mischievous smile crept onto your features as you thought of a way to repay his kind words. 'I would look even more perfect on top of you.' You giggled as it was now his turn to stop functioning.

I am not down bad for Yosano or anything pfff

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years

Text

Do you love sports? I love a sport. That sport is called Zamboni. It consists of several minutes of big dudes wearing skates kicking the shit out of each other, until a piece of ice-surfacing equipment powered by a 1979 Volkswagen four-banger comes out and cleans up all the blood. You have to see it: these guys are like artisans; working the blade, the turning brake, and the throttle deftly to put on a show and leave the ice in perfect condition for the flawed monkeys to continue to eviscerate each other upon as soon as the beer ads finish.

Now, of course I’ve owned a Zamboni. And in fact, “Zamboni” is just one of many brands of ice resurfacing machine out there today. You can save a lot of money if you know this fact: everyone and their dog is looking for the name brand, so ads with a B- or C-grade rink stripper are gonna sink to the bottom, where they’ll find a pitifully small amount of your money. There are just two problems with owning one of these fine beasts. First, the top speed is annoyingly low, and second, Big Government keeps plowing away all the snow around my house before it can be turned into shiny, flawless rink-grade ice.

The first problem, as with so many others, can be fixed with sufficient addition of gearing. Since these things are made out of busted-ass old Volkswagen Fox parts, all it takes is understanding where the Fox ends and the Chevy S-10 begins, and then swapping out the cogs in the gearbox with the appropriately-chosen ones. Yes, it means that the 0-60 suffers, but you can fix that with a turbocharger. You don’t even need to intercool it: need I remind you of the giant pile of slowly-melting water that you’re sitting on?

Gearing up your Zamboni to highway speed does invite further problems: I was barely able to finish my break-in tune before the local law enforcement became aware of my actions. Nothing is more antagonizing to them than the existence of liberated, free thinkers such as myself. They may also have been angry that the aforementioned “pitifully small amount of [my] money” was in fact zero dollars, because I stole the fucker right out of a Timbits League game when I was supposed to be working. Hey, it’s my first day, what do you want from me?

Where was I? Oh yes, the ice quality. Here’s the thing: once you lead your pursuers out of the city, where there’s no road clearing, and drop the shaver, it’s difficult for the authorities to continue their pursuit. Maybe it’s because they’re in awe of the gloriously clear ice and have stopped to play a patriotic game of shinny, or it could be because the Lethal-Force-Spec™ Military Terrain® all-seasons that the patrol cruisers are equipped with are better at being bulletproof than they are at being snow tires.

#zamboni #best of

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ghouljams · 10 months

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just imagining soap and love being close and like those bsfs that are attached at the hip or very affectionate, just imagining making soap catch her and acting like shes gonna kiss his cheek but just takes a hugeass CHOMP at his cheek

You are feeding into my Ghost/Love/Soap trio thoughts in an unhealthy way but God Ghost deserves all the love in the world he deserves them. Here's the biting part of Ghost's "No kissing, no biting, no bitching" rule.

Ghost honestly didn't know what he was expecting when he introduced you and Soap. Honestly he hadn't really planned on introducing you to anyone but certain stabbings made that a little tricky. This was good though, you two got along well. Maybe too well. Your excitement for seeing Soap was almost rivaling the excitement you showed upon seeing him. Although maybe that was partially a reflection of his own feelings.

Whatever the reason was, he could feel you light up when you spotted Soap. Ghost himself didn't bother stifling his smile, letting you drop his hand to run at the poor guy. At least Soap seemed to have the good sense to hold his arms out when you jumped. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he lifts you into a more comfortable hold. Ghost shakes his head, watching him pat your back amicably.

"Price says we gotta- Hey," Ghost grabs the back of your head and pulls it back just as your teeth replace your lips against Soap's cheek, "No, no biting." You whine, for some reason Soap whines.

"But look how sad he is," You tell Ghost, Soap nods.

"Yeah, look how sad I am."

"Jesus Christ." Ghost pinches the bridge of his nose, "He's not sad, he's half charmed, now no biting, either of you."

"Just right now or-"

"The whole time," Ghost glares at you, you shut your mouth quickly.

"The whole time what?" Soap frowns, finally catching on that there this might not be a courtesy call.

"Price wants us keeping an eye on you while he and Gaz talk to the witch." There's a long moment where Ghost thinks Soap might object, before a smile spreads over his face. His growing excitement does not bode well for Ghost's sanity.

Later Ghost finds himself on the couch at the bottom of a dog pile. Soap's thrown a leg over his, head on his shoulder while his fingers lace between Ghost's. Your legs are similarly settled across his lap, arms wrapped around him to cuddle close, at least Ghost managed to get an arm around your shoulders before it was pinned by your koala hugging. Your fingers just graze Soap's arm, soft contact acknowledging his presence.

"I can't believe you've never seen this movie," You mumble, tucking your head under Ghost's chin.

"'Scuse my for not seein' every movie of the last 40 years." Soap rolls his eyes, cuddles a little closer.

"Dude it's fucking Jaws."

"Ghost hasn't seen it either," Soap counters.

"Yeah but Simon was living under a rock, you were out doing-" You wave your hand, "-whatever it is you do." Soap hums, catches your waving hand with his free one.

"I wasn't under a rock, I-" Ghost stops, eyes wide watching the screen, "Bloody hell, it's eatin' that poor fuck."

"You know the actual jaws animatronic was in the shop for most of the filming? That's why you don't see it until you see it." Ghost doesn't know who you're talking to, if you're talking to either of them. He's never been this warm before. Soap's internal sunshine and your tethers blazing on either side of him, tangling over him, it feels like all the tension in his body is trying to unwind.

He's not sure what will happen if it does? Will he fall apart if his bindings come loose? He doesn't think so. Not with how tightly he's held right now. New bindings from people that would happily put him back together.

"I forgot you're a horror junkie," Soap grumbles, earning a quiet laugh from you.

"Don't tell Simon that, he'll think I only like him for the mask."

"It's a nice mask." Soap agrees.

"Would you two stop talking and watch the damn movie," Ghost cuts in, the cuddling is enough, he doesn't think he could handle the lead up to both of you talking about him.

#the poly Soap agenda is so real for me #💖💀🧼#i feel like love and ghost are the nested couple here #brought soap in and they love him so much #which is good because he loves them back #ghost deserves to be hugged from every angle #an absolute knot of limbs and Ghost in the middle hugged so tight it'll cure his trauma #fae!Ghost #fae!Soap #oc: Love #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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repurposedmeatlocker · 7 months

Text

Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray, and Fasha the dog. And living in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Having all that room, seeing as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't have to take out their garbage for a long time. We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it would be a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump

So we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW Microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the city dump. Well, we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the Dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving". And we had never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage. We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the side road there was another fifteen foot cliff, and at the bottom of the cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we decided to throw ours down. That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie.

He said, "Kid, we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope under that garbage." After speaking to Obie for about forty-five minutes on the telephone we finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down And pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the police officer's station. So we got in the red VW Microbus with the shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the police officer's station

Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at the police station, and the first was that he could have given us a medal for being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and we didn't expect it, and the other thing was that he could have bawled us out and told us never to be seen driving garbage around the vicinity again, which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station, there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid. Get in the back of the patrol car."

And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the, quote, "Scene of the Crime," unquote. I wanna tell you about the town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where this happened here, they got three stop signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the "Scene of the Crime" there was five police officers and three police cars, being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station; they was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and they took twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was, to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner, the southwest corner and that's not to mention the aerial photography

After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?" Obie said he was making sure, and friends, Obie was, cause he took out the toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars, roll out the - roll the toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice (remember Alice?), Alice came by and with a few nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back to the church, had another Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court

We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up, and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog and then at twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry, 'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American Blind Justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the judge wasn't going to look at the twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow

#squack

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 8)

“Mom!” Everest screams, tearing down the hallway at the sight of her.

“Mommy!” Arista follows.

Causing Y/N to lose her balance, toppling backwards from her crouched position, with both children in her arms. “I missed you.” She murmurs, kissing each of their heads in turn.

Haymitch is a few feet behind, Y/N ran all the way from the train. He picks up pace at the sound of their voices.

“Daddy!”

“What are you doing down there?” Haymitch chuckles at the sight. “Should I just get on top here?”

“Ahh!” Everest giggles, “he’s gonna crush us.”

“Do not jump.” Y/N warns.

“I think your mother wants me to jump.” Haymitch teases.

“No, dad.”

“Ooof,” Haymitch grunts, carefully joining his family.

“And I’m back to being chopped liver.” Madge laughs at the dog pile forming on the sitting room floor.

“Get in here, Madge.” Y/N insists.

“I’m good.”

“Come on, Madge.” Haymitch says.

“What do you want me to do?” Madge raises a brow, “I’m not holding you.”

“Well someone’s got to.”

“Hold him, Madge.”

“Aunt Madge, Aunt Madge, Aunt Madge!” The kids begin chanting.

“This is ridiculous.” The woman sighs, pushing hair back behind her ears, preparing to mount her sister’s husband.

“There she is.”

“Welcome home.” Madge says, staring down at her sister, the only one facing upward in all the chaos.

————————————————————————-

It’s odd; the first few weeks of seeing the other houses in victor’s village lit up at night. Odd that there are other victors after being alone for so long.

Katniss falls into her old routine, hunting, visiting the hob and spending time with Prim. Even Gale. She hides her struggles as best she can.

Prim, Everest and Arista play hopscotch on the pathway between their houses. She teaches Y/N and Haymitch’s children to milk her goat and churn the milk into cheese.

Peeta is adjusting to life with a missing limb. The bottom portion of his left leg now replaced with a prosthetic, after the damage done by the mutts was deemed irreversible. Still he bakes and paints, delivering tiny offerings of scones and cookies; to Katniss and his mentors.

“Mmm, mhm.” Haymitch takes a deep whiff of the sweets. “Thank you, Peeta.”

“You’re welcome,” Peeta nods, watching as the older man carts the tray away.

“You can… if you want to stay for dinner. Doesn’t have to be every night,” Y/N knows the relationship with his family is complicated. “Just whenever you want to drop by, you’re welcome to.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“We’d love to have you,” Y/N squeezes his arm. “Come on in.”

“Why not?” He shrugs, with a smile.

Together they walk toward the dining room. Haymitch has plopped the tray down in the center of the table, allowing Everest and Arista to have dessert before dinner.

“We’re not sticklers about the order of things.” Y/N explains, pulling out a chair for him. “Peeta, this is my kid sister, Madge. Madge, this is Peeta.”

“Nice to meet you.” The woman seated beside him holds out her hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Baby, how’s the ham coming?” Y/N calls to her husband, who’s preoccupied taste testing the cookies.

“There’s a ham?” Haymitch mumbles around a mouthful of food.

Y/N’s eyes bulge. “You forgot to put it in?”

“I’m messing with you.” Haymitch swallows, moving behind her chair to check on the main course.

“Terrible,” Y/N swats at him.

————————————————————————-

Enough time has passed that Y/N watches for the lights in the windows of both Peeta and Katniss’ houses; only concerned when she doesn’t see them now.

President Snow’s retaliation could come at any time. Haymitch tries to put Y/N’s mind at ease, reasoning that if he hasn’t done anything yet, he may not do anything at all. If the districts and the Capitol are invested in the star crossed lover’s story, he has nothing to be angry about.

“The tour is only two months away, maybe he’s waiting until then.” Y/N worries at a loose string on her nightgown.

“When are we gonna talk about this?” Haymitch breathes, they’ve been dancing around it for weeks now.

“Talk about what?” Y/N turns up her chin.

“What’s really going on.”

She hasn’t even begun to process it, can’t accept it, can’t speak about it. “Haymitch.”

“I’m sorry this isn’t what you wanted. But this isn’t going away. We have got to address it.”

It.

The tiny swell of her belly.

“You wanna discuss baby names?”

“I want to discuss this baby.”

Y/N allows tears to pool in her eyes. “I-” she breaks off at the feel of his hand resting against the bump through the thin material.

“You’re not ready to tell anyone and I understand that you need time. I will give you time. Hell, if you wanna pop this sucker out here in a few months, just you and me, great. But you have got to talk to me. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” She whispers, resting a hand over his.

“Everything is going to be ok. I’m gonna make it ok.”

“Do you want to have another baby with me?” Y/N wonders, though the outcome will not change.

“I want everything with you.” Haymitch assures her.

“I love you. I never want you to think for a second that I don’t. I just wanted a little bit more time.”

“There is no shame in mourning the ability to do this on your terms. This is your body, your life and you deserve-” he stumbles over the words. “You deserve better.”

“So do you.”

The first two times…they’d been asked. A crisp white envelope with instructions inside. There was a warning. The shots from the Capitol stopped. There was understanding, time to prepare themselves. This is different. An ambush, a means to knock them down a peg.

And they can lie there, they can stay down. Or they can get their bearings and stand up.

————————————————————————-

“One hour until cameras, Peeta and Katniss are defrosting, Vanity should be here any second.” Y/N calls, closing the front door behind her and tossing her coat onto the rack. It’s quiet in their house, alarmingly so. “Haymitch?” She calls up the stairs.

It’s tour day.

“In here,” Haymitch replies.

Y/N follows the sound of his voice down to the living room. Something is off. She fluffs out the edges of her shirt as she walks. Sure to conceal the life growing within her. She is showing, but not enough for anyone to notice at a glance, in a loose fitting top.

Turning the corner, she is greeted by a peacekeeper on either side of the entryway. President Snow is sitting on their couch with the children and Haymitch. Enjoying the tea biscuits from Peeta.

“President Snow,” Y/N greets him with a smile.

“Hello, my dear. I hope you are well.”

He knows. He has to know. “Can’t complain. I hope the trip here was an easy one.”

Snow allows a slow grin to spread across his lips, “it was. So kind of you to ask.”

“Can I get you some tea to go with that?” Y/N motions towards the biscuit.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long. I am only dropping by to give my best and congratulate you.”

“Congratulate me for what?” She wonders.

Snow cocks his head to the side, “your victors, of course. Speaking of, I really must be off to see Ms. Everdeen.”

“Should I accompany you?” Y/N chokes out against the rapid pounding in her chest.

“That won’t be necessary, after all you need to get ready. Your lovely children have never been on a victory tour. They are very excited.”

Her heart stops, the children were never meant to come. They are to stay here in twelve, with Madge, where it’s safe.

“I will see you all in the Capitol.”

————————————————————————

“Of all the last minutes alterations,” Vanity scowls, “I spent years designing these outfits, young lady. Years!”

“I know,” Y/N tries to suck it in, but there’s no way the zipper is going up.

“Can’t we let the seams out a little?” Haymitch asks, the top buttons of his matching ensemble hanging open.

“And you,” Vanity kicks at him. “This is all your fault. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Oh, I did.” Haymitch chuckles, “enjoyed myself very much.”

Y/N smirks at him, shaking her head.

“Vanity?” Arista comes to tug at the bottom of her dress.

“What is it, my love?” She continues fussing over her victor, pinning a bit of fabric to the closure of her gown. They’ll just have to sew her in.

“Something is pinching.”

“Where?” The woman leans down to tend the little girl. Outfits for the children were not on her agenda, but she knows better than to arrive unprepared. Whipping up a dress and suit combination in a matter of minutes.

Arista points toward the right side.

“Oop, see there.” The stylist plucks a wayward sequin from the arm joint of her dress. “All better.”

She dashes off happily.

“She looks just like you.” Vanity gives a smile, gathering her needle and thread.

“Dad, I need help with the tie.” Everest charges in, silken fabric in hand.

“You know we’re just riding on a train, right?” Haymitch reminds V, looping his son’s tie around his neck. “You’re doing all of this for us to sit on a train.”

“Haymitch.” Vanity pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Honestly Y/N, you had your pick of the litter and this is who you chose… just beyond me.”

“You and me both.” Haymitch adds, finally they agree on something.

————————————————————————

“All aboard.” Haymitch helps his children over the threshold of the train first.

Madge is accompanying them, to help tend Everest and Arista. Y/N fought her on this of course, but Madge insists. I don’t want them around anyone we don’t trust. Her intentions are good, but Y/N hates that so much of their burden falls to her.

“Here comes my nanny,” Haymitch teases. “The girl on fire, the baker’s boy.”

This goes on for a while until it’s Y/N’s turn to board.

“They always save the best for last,” Haymitch remarks, helping her up.

Y/N kisses his cheek, “thank you.”

When Haymitch turns around, Katniss is right there. “Jesus, sweetheart. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Katniss looks desperately around Haymitch to Y/N. “I need to talk to you.”

“Ok,” Y/N nods. “Haymitch will get everyone settled and we’ll talk,” stepping past her husband. “Come on, let’s go.” Y/N leads her to the back of the train, with the big window.

Katniss takes it all in, the mountains of district twelve illuminated by the setting sun. “It’s beautiful.”

“Best seat in the house.” Y/N agrees, making herself comfortable on the cushioned bench, “in my opinion, anyway.”

When Katniss does find a place next to her, she can’t find the words. “I’m sorry,” is all she can say.

“For what?” Y/N’s brows pull together.

“For the berries, for winning, for Snow taking it out on you.”

“Katniss-”

“I know you don’t blame me, you’re too good a person.” That’s why it’s always harder to go to Y/N than Haymitch.

“I place blame where it’s due.” Y/N corrects her, “and this is not your fault.” Not her fault that the children must accompany them, not her fault that the Capitol sent placebos instead of contraception.

“He said…the people in the districts don’t believe our love story. He told me I need to make them believe. You’re good at it; making people believe what you say.” That’s why it has to be her. “I thought maybe you could help me.”

Y/N rests a hand on top of Katniss’. When I was your age, I would’ve given anything for someone to help me. “Of course I’ll help you.”

Part 9

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