#HE PISSES FOR 50 FULL SECONDS

[lazaruspiss]

angry birds piss scene angry birds piss scene angry birds piss scene angr-

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: fumiko.gima@apextalentgroup.com To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: wfitch@everlanefitch.com, mai.sasaki@apextalentgroup.com, hideakitakeda@titansecuritysolutions.com, benji1968@gmail.com + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All — 

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule. 

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS 

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off. 

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.) 

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you. 

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit. 

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms. 

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty. 

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts. 

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u 

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words. 

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment] 

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason 

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested. 

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media. 

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.” 

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know, 

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.” 

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.” 

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming. 

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything. 

Late in the afternoon, you get another text. 

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense. 

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out? 

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world. 

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity. 

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living. 

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days. 

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home? 

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too. 

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :) 

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM. 

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her. 

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend. 

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words. 

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be. 

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her. 

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you. 

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table. 

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day. 

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her. 

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.” 

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy. 

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.” 

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress. 

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could. 

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.” 

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?” 

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation. 

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?” 

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him. 

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?” 

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks. 

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together. 

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers. 

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend. 

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.” 

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion. 

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk). 

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned. 

“Never better.” 

“Do you have a ride home?” 

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say. 

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking. 

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge. 

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.) 

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly. 

“Let me take you home.” 

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.” 

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early. 

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].” 

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever. 

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car. 

No. 

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up. 

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!” 

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!” 

“Then why were your hands all over me?” 

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet. 

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint. 

He blinks. “What?” 

“What?” You repeat back, innocently. 

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back. 

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup. 

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.” 

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks. 

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway. 

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back. 

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces. 

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?” 

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps. 

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.” 

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets. 

“Do you really want me to stay?” 

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

[xjackjackx]

Not enough people are acknowledging the fact Dark's canonically a little bitch

Like, he acts like a coward in all three of his episodes. He begs for his life before Chosen in AVA 3. He panics when the computer's exploding in Flashback. He runs away from Orange in Showdown. And to clarify, it's not like a normal thing in AVA. This series is full of brave people, Dark is the outlier here.

Chosen thought clearly when the computer was exploding. He never needed a wristband to boost himself, he always had trust in his base abilities. He ran for his life only once in Wanted, besides that he's always brave, always fighting, never begging. Even in the Box, he refused to yield to Victim and almost defeated him through sheer determination.

King spent months learning all about Minecraft to achieve his goal. He fought like 11 people at once, even when brought back to a normal mortal he fought, almost regained his staff, and still managed to steal Yellow's while pinned and surrounded. He was never afraid, he always fought, he WON. He wasn't defeated. He willingly gave up.

Purple tanked a world-destroying beam just to save the first friends he ever made in his life, and call out to the one he viewed as a father figure. Even with minor characters; Herobrine stayed defiant, looked straight into King's eyes with rage as he was being absorbed. Even the Witch didn't panic when fighting Reuben, and fought until she was literally unable to cause she was a harmless dye.

Like, this isn't a common reocurrence. This is Dark being visibly the exception to a cast of extremely brave, determined fighters who never back down. Chosen plays fair, King earned his godlike power fair-and-square, Herobrine simply came in, saw the issue and threw hands without asking questions. Agent saw a pissed-off, flaming Superman-like stickfigure flying at him, went "Nah I'd win" and ACTUALLY WON with a single strike of Pause. Alan saw like 50 ViraBots charge at him when a single one beat his ass easily, and went in to attack them without a second thought. Dark's the one who sneaks in a power-up ability cause he's not doing good enough for his standards, and then sends like 50 people at 2 mfs cause he's still having trouble while acting all smug about it.

Dark is a massive, Grade-A loser and not some super-badass like I see fans make him out to be. Give my Pathetic Dark content. I want to see him act like a pussy

[schlattslambo]

hot for teacher | schlatt 18+

A/n: this has truly been burning my brain. reader is female presenting. I will work on some more gender neutral stuff in the future I promise!! Please enjoy<3

C/w: spanking, name calling (slut), power dynamic (teacher x student), spitting, use of daddy towards the end

——————————

Why you decided to go back to college to get another degree, you have no idea. All you know is that this class is boring as hell and you aren’t sure why it’s even needed for your degree. The only upside was the fact that it was your first class of the day so you could get it over with. Plus the professor was kind of hot too.

It’s a warm day today, way warmer than it should be for this time of year, so you decide to show a little skin to your writing class. Your skirt is just long enough to cover your ass, and your shirt is low cut and cropped. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even wearing a shirt at all.

You walk into the classroom, plopping down in the back like you usually do.

“Ms (y/n),” Your professor says from the front of the room. “Come and see me please.”

You roll your eyes. Mr Schlatt might be hot, but he was strict. He didn’t allow gum chewing, eating or drinking - except water, of course- and locked his classroom 5 minutes after it was meant to start so nobody who was late could get in. He constantly got under your skin about your writing and your formatting, and was seeming to start early with his criticisms of you today.

“Yes, Mr Schlatt?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Did you leave the rest of your clothes at home?” Mr Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, stupid, this is it.” You scoff.

Mr Schlatt could take a lot, but seeing you like that, acting all defiant and shit pissed him off. He wanted to knock you down a peg or two. His jaw works as he glares at you.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I wanted to see you because your last essay was all over the place.” Mr Schlatt says. “It had a good foundation, but it could use some work.”

“Did I fail the assignment, or what?” You snap. “I worked hard on that essay!”

“You would receive a 50, which is failing,” Mr Schlatt pauses. “This essay is a large part of your grade, and your grade is already low enough as it is.”

“What??” You yelp. “How could I fail?! This is ridiculous!”

“I want you to redo the essay.” Mr Schlatt adds, reaching into his desk and pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. “This is an essay template. I’d like for you to come in during any free time that you have and work on it with me.”

You glare at him. “I’m not redoing that fucking essay.” You growl.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes darken in a way that you’ve never seen before. He takes off his glasses and places them down gently before his eyes go back to you. Your eyes widen slightly at how scary he looks.

“First off, you do not speak to me like that.” Mr Schlatt says. “Second, you will be redoing this essay. It is not a full rewrite, it is just a large edit. If you do not do this, you will receive a zero for it. And that zero would make you fail the class and you will not graduate. Am I clear?”

Your eyes widen. Surely he’s joking. This is college for fucks sake! He can’t have this power over you. Especially over some essay.

“You can’t do that!” You yell.

“I can and I will,” Mr Schlatt says. “Now, from what I’ve learned over the course of the semester is that you typically have some free time around 1pm. I’d like you to come back here at 1 so we can go over this work.”

With that, Mr Schlatt dismisses you. You stomp over to your seat and plop down, taking out your phone. You barely work in the class out of defiance, but catch Mr Schlatt glancing at you. You glare at him and he just shakes his head, leaning over to help another student.

Two classes later, you figure it’s best to just go back to Mr Schlatt’s classroom. You need to graduate. You hate college and want to get out as fast as possible. You barge into the room, making Mr Schlatt look up at you. He heaves a sigh.

You have to be Mr Schlatt’s least favorite student, but he cannot stop thinking about how you need to be put in your place. You are a student, and he is a professor. He deserves respect, and you’re going to give him that respect one way or another.

“Glad to see that you came back,” Mr Schlatt says.

It’s the end of his day and his tie is loosened, his sleeves are rolled up, and his hair is messy. You sit in the seat across from his desk and look at him while he finishes scribbling something down. Turning the paper over, he looks at you.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh.

The first few minutes of the edit are simple enough. You sigh and try and add in the notes that Mr Schlatt left for you.

“This is stupid,” You grumble. “Why can’t you just pass me?”

“I want you out of my class just as much as you want to get out of it,” Mr Schlatt says. “But I can’t just pass you because you want to leave. You have to earn that right.”

You sit quietly for a moment, then a smirk breaks out on your face.

“Is there any other way that you could pass me?” You ask, twirling some hair around your finger.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes narrow. “No,” He grits. “Now finish writing.”

Thankfully for him, you don’t notice Mr Schlatt’s pants becoming tighter at the crotch. You’re pushing his limits and if you don’t stop soon, you’re going to be pushed into his office’s supply closet and taught a lesson.

“You’re too hot to be this rude,” You grumble.

“You’re too old to be this defiant.” Mr Schlatt snaps back. “You have two seconds to continue this last paragraph or I’m kicking you out and you can fail the class.”

You look up at him and smirk. “Make me.”

The band holding Mr Schlatt back snaps and he stands up, slamming his palms on the wooden desk.

“Get into my office,” He growls. “Now.”

You jump at the loud noise as your eyes widen. You stare up at Mr Schlatt dumbfounded.

“Did I stutter?” He asks. “Get up and get into my office.”

You stand up so quickly that the chair that you were sitting in nearly falls over. Mr Schlatt leads you into his office and closes the door, locking it. You’re speechless, but the slowly growing puddle in your panties speaks volumes.

With two long strides, Mr Schlatt is inches from your face. He’s so close that you can smell the whiskey that he puts in his coffee to deal with students like you. Your knees nearly give out but you lean against the wall.

“You’ve been pushing me and pushing me (y/n).” Mr Schlatt breathes. “I’m so close to losing control.”

You smile softly. “Then lose control.” You reply.

“You sure about that, dollface?” Mr Schlatt smirks. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it.”

“Try me.” You reply.

In a swift motion, you’re grabbed and bent over the wooden desk in Mr Schlatt’s office. He kicks your ankles apart and presses his crotch against your ass, yanking your hair back. You gasp and bite your lip.

“Now, (y/n),” Mr Schlatt breathes. “This is your last chance to back out.”

“No way.” You sigh.

“Stubborn little slut,” Mr Schlatt grumbles, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Now be fuckin’ quiet. Can’t have anyone hearing what a slut you are.”

Before you can respond, Mr Schlatt’s thick fingers find their way between your legs and to your swollen clit. Your knees finally give out, but thankfully you’re lying on the desk.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“You’re already so wet,” Mr Schlatt smirks. “Is this from being a defiant brat?”

You can’t help but nod as he presses against the nub, pleasure shooting through you. You yelp as your shorts and panties are ripped down, exposing your ass.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment, don’t you?” Mr Schlatt leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

You watch as he grabs a ruler off of the desk and you squirm against him.

“No!” You manage. “I don’t need an attitude adjustment!”

Mr Schlatt ignores you and pins your hands behind your back. Your eyes screw shut and you whimper softly. The defiance is gone and your clit throbs as you wait for the ruler to smack your ass.

“Count ‘em for me, slut.” Mr Schlatt says before the ruler comes down on your ass with a harsh slap.

“Fuck!” You yelp. “One.”

Smack.

Smack.

SMACK.

The ruler snaps as tears begin to fall. Mr Schlatt tosses the other piece of the ruler to the side before rubbing a soothing hand on your ass.

“Now, have you learned your lesson?” Mr Schlatt asks, releasing your wrists.

“Mhm.” You sniffle.

“Atta girl.” Mr Schlatt praises. “Now since you took that so well, turn over.”

He helps you turn onto your back and as soon as you’re facing him, he kneels.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Rewarding you, the fuck’s it look like I’m doing?” Mr Schlatt asks, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

His facial hair tickles slightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The closer his kisses get to your center, the more desperate you get. You’re nearly dripping on the desk now and can barely take anymore. So, you grip Mr Schlatt’s hair and tug, shoving his face into your cunt. He grunts in surprise but then starts licking.

He switches from soft featherlike licks to harsh sucking. You look down at the man between your legs, and he’s flushed, eating you out like it’s his last goddamn meal. He’s slurping up your juices and the way his eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around your thighs bring you closer.

“F-fuck, Mr Schlatt…” You moan. “You feel so good.”

Mr Schlatt looks up at you and his pupils are blown. His normal chocolate brown eyes are nearly black as he pulls away from your pussy, a string of juices and saliva connecting the two of you.

“Daddy.” He rasps.

“Huh?”

“Call me Daddy.”

You smile down and grip his hair, shoving his face back where you need it most. The action makes his cock twitch in his pants and precum dot at his tip. A harsh suck on your clit makes you arch your back.

“Daddy, fuck!” You mewl. “Keep doing that.”

Mr Schlatt groans against you, reaching up and probing your wet hole with his thick finger. He slides it in effortlessly and is quick to find the spot that makes your vision blur.

Your thighs clench on his head as you feel the tightness in your stomach. The grip that you have on his hair is like iron as you grind your hips. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your hole squeezing Mr Schlatt’s finger like a vice. He allows you to ride it out, the noises you’re making only driving him closer to his own orgasm.

With one minor leg adjustment, Mr Schlatt’s cock brushes against his zipper just right and he cums. He groans against you, hips thrusting into nothing. He’s sure he looks pathetic, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s got his hottest student’s pussy in his mouth right now.

He pulls back once you’re done and stands up. You gasp as he grips your jaw with a smile.

“Open.” He orders.

You allow your jaw to go slack and Mr Schlatt allows a big glob of spit to land in your mouth. You swallow, tasting yourself.

“Good girl.” Mr Schlatt praises, patting your cheek.

“Am I gonna pass?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We might have to have a few more meetings to go over things, but I think you’ll manage a passing grade.”

You leave Mr Schlatt’s office that afternoon and walk off, your clit still throbbing. You’re sure the next few meetings aren’t going to be nearly as boring as you thought they would be.

[superhaught]

Sweetest Girl (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): continuation of angst, insight into reader's home life (absent parents, poverty), emotional damage

Word Count: 1600, Part 4/?

Summary: Reader and Regina try to cope in the aftermath of their confusing and sudden separation. Regina keeps up appearances, Reader doesn't feel like herself.

@sapphicantics saw it first <3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The rest of the day passed with no word from Regina. 

After Regina let you out of her car, you walked a few minutes down a dirt road to to the trailer park you called home. Your mom was predictably passed out in front of the TV that sat on the table in the middle of the Jayco trailer. Dad wasn’t around. Also predictable. 

You grabbed a few things you needed and checked the refrigerator for something to eat just in case but there was only a half empty case of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The rest of your day was spent walking to the 24 hour gym to grab a shower. To McDonald’s for a meal. Then to the library to finish your own homework. 

Weekends were the hardest. Two fewer meals a day when you weren’t at school. Too much time to kill. Sundays were the worst of it because the library closed at 5 instead of 9.

You were trying to do your history readings but your thoughts kept frustratingly drifting to Regina. You thought about how if she knew the full truth, she’d be pissed at you for not saying anything, and then she’d feel guilty for making you leave, and then she’d be pissed all over again. 

You wanted to hit yourself. You’d only really known Regina for a week and already you were thinking about her like she was your best friend in the world. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. 

At 4:50 pm, someone lightly tapped your shoulder, waking you up from an accidental nap hunched over your books.

“Gotta pack up sweetie, I’m sorry,” the librarian gave you a pitying smile. 

You blinked and nodded, “sorry for falling asleep.”

“Don’t worry. Have you eaten today?”

You nodded again.

“Alright, well grab something from the pantry on your way out anyways.”

“Thanks.”

You had gotten into the habit of getting your breakfast from the cafeteria and then sitting out in the front courtyard to read and people watch as your classmates arrived for school. You didn’t realize that you were able to recognize the sound of Regina’s car specifically until you were looking up from your book and watching it pull into her spot in the lot. 

The blonde opened her door and threw her hair over her shoulder. She wore sunglasses, making her expression unreadable as she strode across the pavement. 

You clocked Gretchen and Karen’s approach just a second before it seemed Regina did and you watched her take a deep breath in before they pounced on her and started yapping her ears off. 

None of that came as a shock to you. You figured she would uphold her usual even if was still as upset as you were. What happened next was what rendered you paralyzed. 

As the girls made their way toward the school building, some guy intercepted them and slid in between Regina and Karen. He did that stupid thing where he ran his hand through his hair and then stretched his arm out as if he was yawning just so he could drape it around Regina’s shoulders. 

She didn’t react. 

He then leaned in to apparently kiss Regina. At that, she did turn her head so that he could only plant one on her cheek, but still. 

You were aware that you were staring, mouth fully agape, eyes wide, as the group of four walked past you. You didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the fact that Regina glanced back at you over the shoulder that the dude was possessively gripping. You couldn’t see her eyes past the dark lenses she was wearing and all you could think about for the rest of the day was how much you wished you could have seen her expression. 

During the chem quiz, you kept glancing across the room at her. Trying to check in, catch her eye, anything. She never looked up from her paper. Not once. 

When time was up, you turned your quiz in feeling fairly confident that you performed terribly on it. You watched Regina get up from her desk and check over her answers again before she looked up and met your eyes. 

If it hadn’t been for your teacher telling everyone to find their seats again, you might have stood there and held eye contact with Regina forever. 

She gave you a pained smile and then cleared her throat before walking up the aisle between the rows of desks and handing her quiz in. 

You sat back down at your desk and watched her the entire time it took for her to return to her desk and sit. She didn’t look at you again, but she moved her hands to her lap and picked at her cuticles for the rest of class. 

When you were all dismissed, you tried to catch her on your way out, going as far as to call out to her but the woman knew how to move with purpose and she was well ahead of you. 

At the same time, your teacher called your name, “stay a second, will you?”

You sighed and turned around.

Your teacher was holding yours and Regina’s quizzes in each hand and glancing them over, “well, by the looks of this, she has improved remarkably. However, your quiz…”

You winced, “I know.”

“If I didn’t know your handwriting I would have to assume that you swapped papers with her or something. This isn’t you.”

You nodded, “I just had a really bad day. I don’t think I’ll screw up this bad again.”

“Well, your grade is going to be fine but, are you okay? She’s not giving you trouble is she?”

You glanced at the classroom door that Regina left through then shook your head and faked a smile, “no, no. Not at all. She’s… she’s been great to tutor.”

“Okay, well, if you need anything, you’ll let me know?”

You nodded, slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out the door. 

You knew when you agreed to tutor Regina that there’d be a chance she might get under your skin. She is Regina George, after all. You just never expected that the getting under your skin would be because you were falling for the girl and unable to do a single thing about it. 

As it turned out, though, Regina wasn’t done getting under your skin for the day. 

The blonde was leaning against your locker when you approached it. She was examining her nails but then she looked up at you and dropped her hands to her side. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. 

You stared at her expectantly, “well?”

“Um, could you come with me, please?”

“Why?”

“To talk.”

“Talk to me here.”

“I… I can’t.”

“No? Do you need your boyfriend or something?”

Regina clenched her jaw. 

You felt a pang in your chest. The words this isn’t you echoed in your mind. 

She frowned and looked down at her hands. 

You sighed, “where did you want to talk?”

She met your eyes again, “bathroom?”

You nodded and followed her down the hall. Once inside the restroom, she checked the other stalls for any stragglers that hadn’t gone to lunch yet. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and waited for her to talk. 

She faced you from a respectful distance, “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry again.”

“What are you sorry for, exactly?”

“For… well, all of it.”

“What was the plan? Were you going to lead me on, maybe start a secret situationship, keep me wrapped around your finger while you kept up appearances at school? But then you flipped out, and now you’re sorry that you did it, or are you sorry that it didn’t go the way you wanted? Did you think that maybe if you apologized you could try again?” 

Regina’s eyes went wide and she shook her head, “n-no! That… that’s not… I didn’t…” she stepped closer to you and you stepped back.

“No, actually, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Because you tried to warn me, didn’t you? You said that I should stop being so nice so that I wouldn’t get taken advantage of, right? So I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you.” As you continued, you started crying, and so did she. 

“When did it start with the guy? Before? Or last night? Does he make you happy, Regina? Actually, nevermind, it’s none of my business. It’s not like we’re in a relationship, right?”

Regina sobbed, “please, please just… please listen… I didn’t set out to hurt you… I… I got scared…”

You wiped your face of the tears you’d shed, “I’m sorry, Regina… I don’t actually want to be mean…” 

She stepped closer to you again, “I… I don't want to lose you as a friend because of this.”

You shook your head, “fuck, I don’t know Regina… I think it’d be best if we just… left each other alone…”

“No, wait… I don’t want that.”

“I’ll still tutor you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That isn’t what I’m worried about!”

You took a step forward and closed the space between you and Regina, “then what do you want?”

She seemed to cower from the question, “I don’t know.”

You nodded. You met her eyes and you felt your lip quiver, so you turned your face away, “then… I guess… if you figure it out, let me know. I… I’m upset right now but… I don’t want to lose you either.” 

With that, you turned around and left. 

Regina didn’t see you skip lunch to go outside and cry until the next class period. 

You didn’t see Regina go into one of the bathroom stalls and do the same.

Next Chapter

[trashmouth-richie]

ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

MODERN! EDDIE x FEM! READER

MODERN! KING! STEVE x FEM READER

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

summary: taking the back roads to Indianapolis was Eddie’s idea. the day trip there was Steve’s. But when Wayne’s borrowed truck grinds to a halt on the hottest day in September, the tension and the boys’ tempers aren’t the only thing to rise.

warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol use, drug use, drug mention, kinda sadboy! Eddie, king Steve being king Steve, modern times so things such as google and Snapchat are mentioned. no use of y/n, reader has a nickname, pet name usage.

The blazing swell of the late September sun had been pelting down on you all day. Stuffed right between your best friend Eddie and his best friend Steve, the humid Midwest air trickled through the open windows in a hazy wave of oven door heat. 

  Between Steve’s hair-brained idea of driving to Indianapolis for tickets to the annual Irvington Halloween Festival and Eddie’s even more ridiculous idea of taking Wayne’s single cab truck, without A/C to make the 4 hour round trip drive— it was no surprise when the clunking metal of the brown ‘86 Chevy spluttered to a grinding stop alongside the highway. 

  100 miles from Hawkins, and nothing but pent up anger boiling at the surface to keep you all company.

  “Oh this is just great Munson,” Steve groaned, swinging open his door and slamming it shut with a metallic bang. A ring of sweat set deep in the Hawkins athletic shirt he was wearing, a heavy hand pushing his hair from his face, “dude, let’s take the truck!” he mocks the long haired metal head, “fuckin’ told you this would happen!” 

  The boys weren’t exactly getting along for the entirety of this trip. Eddie and you had made plans to decorate your apartment tonight for Halloween, a month too early just like you did every year, a night full of themed snacks and cheesy 80s horror movies, the perfect opportunity to finally make his move. 

  But when Steve showed up at the light blue trailer looking for his wingman to help him score at Hargrove’s party— he was less than impressed to find you peeking around Eddie’s outstretched arm holding open the door, a shit-eating grin on your face. Even more pissed when Eddie told him that you would be tagging along. A roll of his eyes and a scoff on his lips as he pounded down the concrete steps. 

  Steve wasn’t your favorite and you definitely weren’t his. He didn’t get the appeal.. Always too loud, too annoying, acting like one of the boys when clearly you were just too insecure to have any friends that were girls. 

  As he stomped through the dead grass he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that you turned him down freshman year, never mind that it was six years ago and Steve had plenty of girls added to his belt, his snap score and drawer full of stolen panties proved it. Never mind that his bruised ego from that night at a bonfire in the woods pushed him into his King Steve era. He flicked a cigarette into the dirt, muttering under his breath. 

  “Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie gripes as he shoves the gear shift into neutral, he lowers down to his left and pulls the hood jack towards him. “It’ll be an easy fix.” He says to you, his breath fanning your sweaty cheek as he shoves open the door and jumps out, boots crunching along the gravel as he pushes the hood open. 

  To be fair, Wayne’s truck had about a 50/50 chance of making the trek to Indianapolis, but Eddie had wanted to take it for a few reasons, and not one of them was for a trip down memory lane like he had told Steve. 

  The first reason he wanted to drive the truck opposed to Steve’s BMW, was lol was because it was a stick shift. An opportunity to let him float the gears and have his veins pop out that he knew was a panty wetter for most girls, he had only hoped you fit into that category. 

  The second reason was simple: there was no air conditioning, meaning the small tank top you were wearing would undoubtedly become very hot, and maybe… just maybe you would think of taking it off to cool down. 

  And finally the third reason mimicked the first… you would be sitting bitch in the middle, and with each shift between gears, his arm would be sliding around the soft plains of your luscious thighs. The same thighs that were bare besides a high waisted pair of cut off shorts that had his mind flipping the perv meter to dangerous levels when you hopped off your bike this morning.

  Greeting him with the same smile that cooked his brain to mush for years. 

  Only today— you were starting to flirt back with him, pushing your ass out and bending at the waist just to untie your shoes. Even though in the history of forever, you had never once taken off your worn converse in the Munson trailer. You also were wearing a tank top, accentuating your curves, and Eddie was ready to chew a hole in the makeshift drywall of his trailer when you bounced up the steps to greet him. 

  Usually you hid your body with a baggy shirt and a pair of jeans, your fuck-off attitude is what earned you the right to have Eddie as a friend in the first place. 

  Tonight he was going to push the limits, share a joint with you when the yellow harvest sun dipped low into the indigo trees, kiss your ear with chapped lips while he held you when the movie had a jump scare… he had a plan. And Steve ‘cockblock’ Harrington was being the worst wingman of all time. 

  Sliding out of Eddie’s door, the Navajo rug blanket snags against the cracked leather of the worn seat. The back of your knees were sticky and shiny with sweat, same as your cleavage, not a single stitch of wind to be found along the gravel road— unless you counted Steve’s annoyed huffs.

—

  Steve bitched and moaned the entire time Eddie was bent over the truck. Investigating what had gone wrong, “aren’t you supposed to be some sorta mechanic?” He grumbled, pushing his hair from his forehead, slotting his hands back into place around the Levi’s on his athletic hips, “swear to God if you make me miss this party, and what Lily has been teasing me with on snap,” his eyes roll into the back of his head at the thought of it, almost letting out a desperate whine.. “I’ll shoot you dead Munson.” 

  “Take it easy Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his jaw tensed and an irritated tone on his lips. His brows turned inward in concentration as he twisted a wrench with strong grease covered hands from behind the hood, “just need’t..  fuck.” Dark smoke started billowing out around him.

  His foul mouth spewed a string of words that barely made any sense, ending his fit with a slam of the hood and his wrench thrown into the ditch. 

  You walk pointed nails across his sweat covered bare back easing his bruised ego with a sickly sweet voice, “it’s okay,” you preen, pushing your chest into his side  when he wiggles from your tickling fingers, his dark eyes swirling into calm and the huff from his breath lost in his throat, “I’ll just call AAA.” 

  AAA did not service in your area, and according to google— the nearest gas station was twenty miles away, a podunk hole in the wall that sold newspapers for a quarter and had 1 star reviews. 

  “Fuck,” Eddie shouted, kicking the tires and hiding the burn of ache traveling up his leg, “the hell are we gonna do now?” 

  “Guess we’re fucking stranded! Great idea Munson, gonna die by the inbred hands of the family from The Hills Have Eyes, but god we just had to take this piece of shit!.” Steve spit as he flopped back into the bed of the truck. 

  Eddie pointed a greased finger into Steve’s chest, “you,” he said prodding with emphasize, “were the one who didn’t want to buy them online, oh God Eddie let’s just get out of Hawkins for the day, make Lily sweat a little bit, make her think I have a bitch in Indy..” 

  “Fuck off,” Steve said shoving Eddie’s hand away, sitting up, casting a stank eye in your direction, voice laced in venom, “at least my dick is getting w—”

  A pack of cards hits Steve right in the chest, hard and knocking the insult from his lungs. 

  It was your idea.

  The slick pack of cards in the glove box with paisley red design on the front was sure to lend some relief and make time pass between now and when Robin would be on the way, driving Steve’s BMW with white knuckles and the radio off no doubt. You had texted her when the boys were arguing, explaining the situation and promising her a small white baggy from Eddie’s stash when you got back. 

  “great idea,” Steve accuses, “s’ gonna take at least 2 hours to get here,” his hands fly in the air in defeat as he yells, “she’s failed her drivers test four fuckin’ times because she drives like my grandma, and that old bag has been dead for years!” 

  “Cool it, you didn’t have any other ideas besides whining Steve,” Eddie defends, fingers wrapped around the neck of a foggy glass bottle filled with amber liquor, he hands it to you in a slick move of his wrist bending and presenting both a blunt and the bottle like a flower blooming in his open palm, “might as well relax a little s Sswhile we wait, make it worth our while.” 

  The liquor went down with a burn, hotter than the pinked shoulders of Eddie’s sunburnt skin. And the small band of splotchy salmon across Steve’s nose. 

  Eddie wrestled a dusty moth bitten blanket from behind the seat, and spread it on the bed of the truck. Before you could push your ass up onto the tailgate, he had wrapped his hands tight along your hips and hoisted you up. A grip so tight he didn’t want to let go, your body feeling just right in his palms, and you were feeling it too. 

  As the liquor bottle got lighter and lighter, the tension eased, Steve was actually laughing at Eddie’s jokes and wasn’t rolling his eyes as much when he had to give you a card or when Eddie praised you for winning again. 

  When Steve threw his cards on the blanket and twisted his arms in a pout at losing another round of Go Fish, it was his idea to play another game. 

  “It’s real easy,” he explained around a puff of smoke as he shuffled the cards back into the pack with his large tanned hands, a single bead of sweat sloping down from his temple and curling around his chin. “You hold up five fingers, and if you’ve never done what one of us says, you keep a finger up, but if you have… you put a finger down and take a sh—- hey dickhead!” 

  Eddie’s lips turn sinister around the glass bottle as rogue drops of Crown dribble from his chin. “Ooops,” he says coyly, eyes bigger than Betty Boop’s and already feeling the combined high and drunken stupor take over his body, “were you needing this?” 

  Dragging a hand down his face, Steve sighs, “yeah it’s kinda the whole point of the game, fucker,” 

  “Hey…” Eddie whines, “be nice Stephanie.” 

  With another ten minutes of arguing about Eddie being a jackass and Steve being crabby in hot weather, you all agree to play the game, the loser has to finish the bottle and strip off an item of clothing. 

  “Okay so let’s start this easy,” Steve explained, “never have I ever been arrested.”

  Eddie puts a finger down and scowls, “good one Harrington,” he adjusts his legs and leans back against the frame of the truck, “just because you got away doesn’t mean your ass wasn’t just as guilty as mine.” 

  “Shoulda ran faster,” 

  The boys make annoyed faces at each other and it’s Eddie’s turn, “never have I ever… nope I’ve done that… never have I.. shit.. okay pass! I gotta think.” 

  “Your turn,” he says, passing you the bottle of almost empty liquor.

  “Okay, Uhh..” you hold the bottle with both hands and gently peel back the label with your fingernail, rubbing the sticky residue between your fingers, you rack your brain for something that would get them both, “never have I ever… peed standing up.” 

  The boys roll their eyes, and each put a finger down, “cheap shot,” Steve whines, and glowers when you stick your tongue out at him. 

  “Oh I got one!” Eddie says rubbing his hands together, splaying a wicked grin on his face, “never have I ever, socked Billy Hargrove in the face.”

  You push Eddie’s shoulder and slap his chest playfully, as he laughs like a hyena, “he deserved it!” 

  Steve chokes on his inhale of the passed blunt, “that was you?!” 

  “Fuck yeah it was!” Eddie says proudly, “that’s why she’s banned from the pool.” 

  Laughing at the now funny memory of Billy slapping your ass as you walked by him in your swimsuit. 

  The way Eddie’s fist felt in your hands as you shoved it down, the rage in his eyes as he was ready to beat the bricks off of Billy. 

  The sick twist of his mustache when it formed a grin knowing that Eddie was on his last strike with Hopper and couldn’t defend you. 

  And the satisfying crack of his molars splintering in his gum line when you knocked your fist into his jaw.

  The pain and swollen fingers were worth it. 

  “And I’d do it again,” you say lowering a finger and taking a swig from the bottle, the burn of the liquor barely there now. 

  Steve laughs, a new sense of almost admiration, as he looks at you with his hair in his face, grabbing the joint from Eddie’s fingers and holding it firm between his teeth, “my turn,” he says clearing his throat, “uh..never have I ever… kissed Eddie.” 

  You and Eddie look at eachother and giggle awkwardly around the cloud of dense smoke, but your fingers never budge. 

  “Seriously?” Steve says incredulously, looking from you to Eddie and back to Eddie and then you again, “can’t lie in this game, dude.” 

  Eddie had come close to kissing you on a few occasions. Once in high school at Steve’s party after winning the beer pong tournament, he looked at you the way someone would a lover, wetting his lips and looking at your mouth, but in the end he gave you a bone crushing hug and twirled you around the room. 

  Another time during the 4th of July fireworks last year when you had both smoked two bowls from the pretty pipe he gifted you earlier that year on your birthday.

  The air was warm, just like today, and you leaned your back into his front as you laid lazily on the roof of his van. He was singing a song you were too high to comprehend and when you turned your head into his shoulder and looked up at him. 

  His fingers wrapped around a lock of your hair and you hummed in approval. Snuggling further into him. And the next thing you knew it was nearly dawn and you had fallen asleep. 

  It just never seemed like the right time. 

  “So who’s turn is it?” Eddie said clearing his throat. 

  “Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no!” Steve said leaning further into the circle, clearly interested to know what’s going on, “we aren’t just gonna skate past this.”

  “Drop it, Steve,” Eddie said all too fast, his boots stretching out to kick at his thigh. 

  The bottle in your hands is suddenly heavy and you set it down with a clunk on the bed of the truck. And you pick hastily at your nails, avoiding two sets of brown eyes. 

  “Fuck it,” Steve says, tongue dancing around his mouth trying to stop a smirk, “I dare you to kiss her.” 

  You're certain your heart stops beating. 

  “Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs. Running his hand on the back of his neck, his open cut off flannel shirt showing off his tattooed chest. 

  “Y-you don’t have to Eddie, it’s okay…” you say trying to brush the tension off, not noticing the way his hands are fiddling with the ends of his shirt and how his eyes haven’t left you, “but I dare you to.” 

  It could have been the combined high. It could have been the fact that you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eddie since you parked your bike against his trailer this morning. 

  He was always good looking, in that goofy best friend kind of way. And although your friendship was never normal, Eddie’s hands always searing through your skin like grill marks on a hotdog, it never crossed the boundary into something more. And you’d be lying if you weren’t curious about how his lips would taste. 

  That was all the convincing Eddie needed before he pushed himself up in a fluid motion, balancing on his knees, and leaning back with a second guess, but it’s you who leans up on your knees too, meeting him halfway.  

  His dark curls swing around your face as he gets impossibly closer. “You sure?” he asks, working a finger under the tip of your chin. 

  And your surprised when your nod is followed by soft lips, slipping against yours. 

  He tasted like the liquor you’ve been drinking and matches. Musky, and woodsy. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip and catches into the corner of his mouth, the brine of sweat on your tongue has you whining into his mouth and he swallows your noises with glee. 

  He shudders when you pull him closer, fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His eager hands holding your face, lips smacking against yours, and for the first time today, it’s not the heat that has your panties wet. 

  Kissing Eddie is like finding money in your jeans after they go through the dryer. It’s easy, and slow, and so fucking good. 

  Seconds, minutes, days? go by before Steve clears his throat and mutters an ahem! 

  Eddie finished the kiss by nudging is nose down the apple of your cheeks and kissing behind your ear. 

  “Fuck…” is all Steve can muster and you bite your lip and sit back down, lips still buzzing with Eddie’s spit still on them. 

  Eddie is smiling and looking at you, eyes drunk on lust. 

  “I— uh, yeah, it’s my turn I guess, ” straightening your back and crossing your legs in a pretzel, you know damn well you’d get at least one finger down from Steve. “Never have I ever… kissed Nancy Wheeler.”

  Steve rolls his eyes and puts a finger down, and when a long finger covered in grease despite the many wipes against denim jeans  also disappears into a fist… a sloppy grin lines Eddie’s mouth as Steve looks like he might throw up. 

  “Are you fuckin’ serious man?” 

  Eddie explains to a butthurt Steve, “let me explain, fuck— it was like a hundred years ago, after junior year, she kissed me!” 

  It was true. 

  Nancy went to Eddie to buy some “forget-‘ems” (Eddie’s coined word for ecstasy) after Jonathan left her for the pretty long haired new boy from California. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone while she took the white pill. Drug use being foreign to her entirely. 

  Eddie? She had asked kindly, unsure about herself for the first time. Take it with me? 

  His long curls bounced as he nodded his head, taking one of the pills from her dainty hands and placing it between his teeth. Tipping his head back with a quick jerk and a rough swallow, hoping it looked cool, he looked into her blue eyes and gave her a grin. 

  It was strange, having the preppy Nancy Wheeler in his trailer with her proper fitting cardigan and light wash skinny jeans. 

  He could tell she was uncomfortable, the normal glow of her skin was lost behind shallow cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, pressed tight with setting powder to try and hide it. 

  maybe she should have had a smaller dose, being that her small frame had never dealt with drugs before. And right when Eddie’s high took over, Nancy Wheeler had started to feel it too.

  She ran around the trailer giggling and feeling the rough edges of the peeling wallpaper. She did flips on Eddie’s bed and spilled cereal all over the kitchen, laughing with dark wide pupil filled eyes. Completely rolling. 

  The high lasted longer than Eddie had thought it would, and she started to cry when thinking about her mom, crying harder when she asked Eddie about his. Forgetting she was gone. 

  She took it a step further by kissing Eddie square on the mouth, wet cheeks and harsh lips pressed to his before he could pull away. And immediately after, Nancy threw up all over his lap. 

  Ending the high and the four hour sudden friendship they had gained. 

  Eddie had told you the story one night when he got too drunk, making you swear to secrecy the next morning that you’d never tell a soul, and you hadn’t. Keeping the pinky promise with your friend all the way to your grave— if he hadn’t just spilled it all to Steve. 

  “See,” you say to try to smooth things over, voice calm and cool through your own high, “no harm no foul, Stevieee,” you chirped, hiding a small giggle behind bit lips. 

  “Really?” Steve spit, flustered and a bit bold trying to mask his hurt with venom. Tongue pressing deep into his cheek and his dark eyes locked on your own, hands tapping onto his bent knees, “then maybe we should even the score, huh?”

  Eddie blows a ring of smoke into the air, following its lazy descent into the dense humid sky. “You wanna kiss Chrissy?” He looks at you with a quizzical expression, laughing at your stunned face, not understanding what Steve is getting at, “be my fucking guest, dude.” 

  “No,” Steve says firmly, not breaking eye contact with you, dark knives of fury peel back each layer of skin, “her.” 

  Eddie says your name in disbelief, and you’re stunned to your core, realizing the air was suddenly much stickier and hotter than before. 

  He sits up straight and leans over the discarded card game, pointing at Steve, eyes narrowed in on him, “you don’t even like her.” 

  “Sure I do,” Steve lies, sniffing loudly, his wicked eyes glance towards Eddie and he licks his lips when he turns his head back to you, eyeing you up and down, as he leans back on his palms, “don’t I, Taffy?” 

  Eddie’s nickname he had given you when you were kids for love of the cavity inducing candy, felt wrong falling from Steve’s mouth, especially in the grim sentiment it was said in. 

  Of course he was referring to the way he had approached you at that party at the lake all those years ago. 

  You could still smell his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the way the sun highlighted his hair that summer, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the warm beer on his breath. 

  You make a face in disgust towards him, “I’m not kissing you, Harrington.” Crossing your arms in finality as if your words held enough power to command an entire kingdom. 

  Eddie shoves Steve’s shoulder, “what the fuck man,” mixed pleasure of pain and concern painting his face, “don’t be weird.”

  Steve knew how much Eddie liked you, having spent many nights on the roof of his practically abandoned home listening to Eddie through FaceTime over analyzing how to make his move. 

  “‘m not,” he says with a shrug, long fingers tapping against the metal of the truck bed behind him, legs stretched out so the tops of his air forces skim your bent knees, eyeing what he wanted, you. 

  “just trying to get even,” Steve said nonchalantly. 

  “She’s not gonna kiss you,” Eddie said, shaking his head and throwing his hands around, hurt lacing his voice, “give it up.” 

  Steve wiggled the toe of his sneaker against your knee, shooting you a wink, “not until she does.”

  It’s not as if the question hadn’t crossed your mind. It had more times than you’d like to admit. What would it be like to kiss Steve Harrington? 

  “Dude! She doesn’t wanna do it. Fucking leave her alone.” Eddie’s voice was loud and on the cusp of breaking as he pleaded with his friend.

  What would have happened if you fell for his charm instead of turning him down? He was definitely sweet back then, taking your hand in his and guiding you along the rough terrain of the woods. 

  “Let her speak for herself!” 

  Eddie’s eyes fall to yours in desperation, his heart aching for you to tell Steve off, “c’mon, tell him, Taffy.” 

  Pressing your eyes shut tight you can feel Eddie’s hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to remind you that he’s there. 

  “One.”

  “What?”

“What!”

  “Just one kiss, then you need to shut up, got it?” 

  “Taff, you don’t have to do this, we can— we can just get home and I’ll pay him or something.” He’s desperate, willing to do whatever it took to not have this happen. 

  “It’s okay, Eddie, what’s one stupid kiss gonna hurt?” 

  You don’t hear the way he groans and throws himself back against the side of the truck, pinching the corner of his eyes between his fingers trying to ignore Steve’s low chuckle and smirk planted on his face. 

  “C’mon then,” Steve presses, man spreading his legs and patting his lap, “get over here.” 

  You roll your eyes and push yourself up again, “cocky aren’t ya?” 

  “all confidence babe,” he says back, licking his lips, and you roll your eyes again before kneeling in front of him. 

  Eddie groans and kicks at Steve’s leg again. 

  “Sorry dude, just bro code,” he said to Eddie, “and you,” he says addressing you with a nod, “ready?” 

  “Yeah, whatever.” 

  He doesn’t move like Eddie, he’s grabby and rough, taking what he wants and not waiting for cues. He bullies his way into your mouth with his tongue, colliding yours with his and massaging it wildly. It wasn’t bad, just completely different than how you were just kissed by Eddie. When his teeth bite the flesh of your lip you yelp in surprise.

  You turn your head and Steve’s lips trail down your neck, hungry hands grab at your waist and pull you into his lap. Your eyes are closed but his are open, looking at his friend and moving his hand in a wave to beckon him over. 

  A second set of hands is on your shoulders and you feel Eddie’s lips against your neck. 

  “This okay baby?” 

  His breath is hot and stuttering as you reach up and fist your fingers in his hair, your answer muffled by Steve’s mouth. 

  You moan their names, and it drives Eddie wild. 

  Eddie’s hands lower the strap of your tank top scraping your skin with the blunt of his nails. He groans when he sees the absence of a bra strap, diving into your warm skin with a lapping tongue, thrashing slow against your skin, working a strawberry shaped bruise into your skin.

  Steve’s hands are already working to pop the button on your jeans, and you whine when you feel his hard cock beneath your leg. 

  “So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie breathes as you crane your neck to meet his lips, desperate for your lips to connect with his sgain. 

  His hands fumble on your tank top straps and he groans when his fingers skim over the swell of your tits, you twist his hair in your fingers when his rough hands pinch at your nipples.

  Steve takes his shirt off and tosses it carelessly, his skin is warm on your bare chest as he licks at your exposed neck and earns another moan from you, causing you to whine into Eddie’s mouth and move your hips against his cock. 

  You’re all a tangle of bare chests and sweat coated skin. The boys are barely giving you any time to breathe between open mouth kisses and lazy tongues before the other one commands your attention. 

  “oh, fuck,” Steve whimpers when he works your shorts down, his large fingers find their way into the wet folds of your pussy, “no panties?” 

  Eddie pulls his mouth from yours to let out a desperate groan as your hands unzip his jeans, “shit, all day and no bra or panties,” his hands caress your cheeks and his thumb slips into your mouth open, which you close around him and moan, “you’re a bad girl, huh?” 

  “With the tightest little pussy, fuck,” Steve groans as he pushes a finger into your slick walls. 

  “Mm’mm” you answer them both at once, grabbing needy at Eddie’s cock through his boxer briefs as it flips into your hand, heavy and leaking a pearl of cum from the slit. 

  Noises of all kinds flood the bed of the truck. 

  Wet sloshing from you gushing over Steve’s fingers, him coaxing an orgasm from you as quick as he could, determined to hear your pretty mouth hum. 

Eddie almost in tears as your mouth devours his length  and the head of his cock slides into your throat. 

  The velvet skin of Eddie’s heavy cock slides in and out of your mouth at a slow speed, a small patch of hair rubs on your nose as you take him deeper.

  He’s muttering incoherently and Steve is egging you on. His lips wrapped around your nipples and teeth nipping harshly. 

  “Jesus Jesus sweetheart, Taff— I’m gonna, don’t want to shit shit shit,” you open your mouth and he slides out on accident as you cum all over Steve’s fingers. Sloppy and wet as he rubs at your clit like a DJ. 

  “Thas’it,” he encourages, “so fucking wet, pretty little pussy, yeah, you like this? The two of us giving you what you want huh?” 

  “Yes, Jesus Christ yes!” you’re a blabbing mess, as your high peaks and Eddie spins you away from Steve.

  Steve’s jeans are soaked from you and he’s pitching a tent big enough to host a family reunion. 

  “My turn baby,” Eddie says kissing you sloppy on your lips, “been wantin’ to taste this sweet pussy for years.”

  He helps you lay down on the blanket, making a makeshift pillow with the discarded clothes from the three of you. 

  You’re covered in sweat and more than likely sunburnt in places no one ever should be, but you could care less. Being worshiped by Steve and Eddie had you feeling like the sexiest woman alive, and nothing could compare to the separate high that alone was giving you. 

  Eddie nudges his nose in the crook where your thighs meet, tongue lapping up the pleasure leftover from Steve. “What’d’ya think Stevie boy? Wanna bet I can make her cry?” 

  Steve’s busying himself with unthreading his legs from his jeans, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down at the sight of you spread out and naked for them. 

  “You’re on, Munson.”

  Eddie’s tongue was tantalizing. Demon-like against your puffy clit and going further into your pussy than any tongue has before, including Robin’s. 

  His nose pushes up against your clit as he goes deeper, swirling his wicked tongue and slurping your folds into his mouth. 

  You’re buzzing all over. Vibrating from the intense pleasure. Moaning and yanking Eddie’s hair between your fingers as he moves and licks and darts his tongue. 

  Pretty whimpers elicit your body and are swallowed by Steve’s lips, as he hungrily works his tongue into your mouth. The swirling and twirling is all too much.  Their tongues work like hands on a clock and your second orgasm arrives quick fast and in a hurry. The tears spill from your eyes as your writhe and moan beneath them, clawing every inch of their skin. 

  Eddie cleans you up with his tongue holding your hips in place as you shake and try to wiggle away from him. Too sensitive as you lay practically lifeless on the bed of the truck. 

  “Told you,” Eddie says as he sits up, with a sheen of your arousal all over his face. Smiling wide. “I’m just that good.” 

  Steve sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers, pushing his hair back from his sweat slicked face, “yeah yeah, whatever…” he says, looking out towards the blue sky and the wavering, heat wave horizon, a stupid grin on his lips, “better get dressed sweet girl.” 

  “Thought we were just getting started,” you whine as Eddie kisses his way up your body, laying on his back next to you, his finger threaded with yours. 

  Steve chuckles and points a long finger to the road, “it’ll have to be another time, princess, our ride is almost here.” 

I have a part two partly written .. lemme know what you would think of that?

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

[heycallmered]

my pics are all tagged #pics of Red, my voice content is tagged #voice of Red

Hey, I'm Red; 30, plural, they/she, pan, aro, switch, vers; also MILF by popular vote

this is my kinky, horny side blog; minors dni

follows from @knives-in-the-dishwater

full kink list coming later; just wanted to get this up. (update: partial list is complete)

links here

I also do custom pics, starting at $5 each; I add an additional charge for anything I need to procure or set up for a pic (or clean up after), but no charge for niche kinks. I can also "giftwrap" your pic(s) in one or two short, in-character rp messages for $1 extra.

System members, kinks, and boundaries listed below the fold

System Members

(not an exhaustive list; just the ones who might post here. section under construction)

If you want to send an ask or DM to a particular alter, just let us know and we'll make sure they're the one who responds.

Want to know which alter you're talking to? just ask.

Cherry

She / It, sub bottom

free use exhibitionist slut, and kind of a bimbo. Will suck almost anything you put in her mouth, and loves attention.

Likes:

free use (especially oral)

exhibitionism

praise

older people (especially men in their 50s)

cum play

wearing slutty clothes

public sex

objectification

bimbofication

Will use 🌺 to signify her posts

Madder ("Maddie" or "Mads")

She / Her, Dom top

resident mean, gross girl. Will rub her sweaty body on your face and then bully you for getting turned on by the smell.

Likes:

cnc

musk

bullying

free use

objectification

blackmail

fauxcest

piss

impact play

breath play

dumbification

force fem

bimbofication

degradation

Will use 👅 to signify her posts

Scarlett

She / Her, Dom top

soft mommydom; calls everyone "sweetie", especially during cnc scenes. stone Dom (she doesn't like to orgasm or get touched during a scene; she just gets off on domming you)

Likes:

cnc

overstimulation

bondage

pain play

subs asking for permission to cum

younger subs

shy subs

dumbification

Will use 💋 to signify her posts

Crimson

It / Its, Dom top

Sadistic primal-adjacent Dom; very fond of blood and fear.

Will use 🔪 to signify its posts

Carmine

They / He

Self-proclaimed "recreational sexologist" who enjoys observing the scope of human sexuality; particularly interested in monster fucking.

Will use 🔬 to signify their posts

Boundaries

I will not "go easy on you" if you tell me you didn't read these boundaries; they are here to keep me safe, and I will make no exceptions.

If you send me pics of your genitals without my consent, I will block you. Yes, even if we were flirting / sexting at the time; you still need consent.

If you treat me like an object without also treating me like a person, I will block you.

if you make me uncomfortable, I will end our conversation. you can try again another time. If it becomes a pattern, I will block you.

If you ask me to date you, marry you, etc., I will end our conversation. you can try again another time. if it becomes a pattern, I will block you.

If I say I won't do something (send a certain pic, rp a certain act, etc.) and you ask again, I will end our conversation. you can try again another time. if it becomes a pattern, I will block you.

I don't like to be called "Miss". The first time you call me that, you'll get a reminder not to. The second time, I will end our conversation. you can try again another time. if it becomes a pattern, I will block you.

🪬

[stupidsagestars]

: ̗̀➛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

{ 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 } 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when luffy forces you and zoro who have been enemies ever since you first met to go on an undercover mission, you were pretty pissed, when you have to pretend to be an extremely flirty couple things definitely get heated and passion can't be hidden can it?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mirror sex, raw sex, blowjob, fingering, tiny bit of violence, tattoos

[𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬!!! ]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧: 𝟐/𝟎𝟓/𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ( 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞)

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

It's been 2 years since Luffy founded the Thousand Sunny Rebel Organisation, there are now 50 different divisions with a total of 40,000 members all around the globe. The fact that it had taken Luffy only 2 years to make all this progress was thanks to a few key characters. One of them being Roronoa Zoro, his second in command and you, the leader of the 3rd and 4th divisions.

Now, you and Zoro have a bit of an issue with each other. No-one really knows where it comes from and neither do you, it seems to be a natural thing.

But here you are sitting down in chopper's underground base with Nami, Robin, Zoro and Luffy whilst Brook, Sanji, Franky and Chopper himself are on a mission.

"Can you stop eating so fucking loudly." You snap at the Moss head who was devouring his food like he had a time limit of 2 seconds.

"Shut up." He mumbles, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"No because you're being a pig." You retort, throwing him a napkin way harder than you need to.

He catches it easily. "Oh no I've made the princess mad, whatever do I do now." He says sarcastically.

You scoff and turn to Luffy. "I thought we had a break today, what do you need?"

Luffy points at Nami with his mouth full. She rolls her eyes.

"Seriously? You got the chefs to cook you more food, we talked about this!! You're eating all the supplies" You say groaning at your friend's incompetence.

Zoro laughs before mimicking you and taking another bite of chicken.

"Robin can you tell him to stop being such a baby!" You say pleading with your friend who just chuckles in response.

"Well we're here because we've got an important mission, we need 2 people to infiltrate a strip club." Nami says frowning at the sheet of paper Luffy had told her to read.

"Who owns it?"

"I think Akainu, you need to steal a document or usb from a couple who go by the names of Silver and Lisa. It has some messages between Akainu and Kizaru to do with the new government building, so it's very important to get it." Nami says before crumpling the sheet of paper up and leaving it on the table.

"Usually I'd do with it Sanji but obviously he's on a mission so-" She takes a long breath before looking at you and then zoro.

You frown, "No, no,no, Nami. No fucking way."

"Y/n come on you two are our best infiltrators, it'll take like 10 minutes at best."

"I don't care either way." Zoro says, smiling at you which ticked you off even more.

"Fine." You say with gritted teeth, not wanting to be the difficult one.

"Great!! You guys have to go now though, your files are on the table. That little delivery kid will probably hand you you clothes and whatnot."

You pout as you walk over to the table, glaring at zoro as you picked up the file and walked over to the door.

"Are you coming or what??" You snap at the idiot who for some reason was still sitting down.

He yawns before picking up the file and carelessly walking towards you. Little did you know, those eyes that seemed to be glaring at you were checking you out, admiring how you looked with your low rise jeans and beige crop top. He loved the tramp stamp tattoo that sat smugly on your lower back, god did he want a close up view of it whilst giving you backshots that made you feel like you were in another fucking universe.

"What vehicle?"

"Huh??"

"What vehicle are we using." You say slowly, as the two of you walked out of the hall.

"Porsche" He responds. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, that wasn't common transport for a mission.

"Miss Y/n, Mr Zoro your mission packages are here!!" A timid voice says from behind you.

A delivery boy passes a little package to both you and zoro and quickly runs off, obviously shy.

"Aww he's so cute." You say.

"Tch- he looks like a brat." Zoro mutters and you punch him on the arm.

"You're a brat." You say and he frowns.

"We meet outside in 5." You say when you finally get to the changing rooms.

He doesn't respond so you open the female changing room and slam the door.

You get to take a deep breath as soon as the door shuts. God was he hot, Why'd he have to be so annoying yet so attractive?? Yeah you hated him but that didn't take away the fact that he was so sexy.

You quickly open the package and find yourself staring at an incredibly skimpy red dress and some red high heels . Right under there's a red launderette set and a metallic pink gun, perfect.

You get changed in under 2 minutes and check yourself in the mirror. Before leaving the room, Nami enters smiling at you.

"You look gorgeous." She says giving you a small hug before taking a seat on the bench behind you.

"Thanks, gosh why do I feel nervous??" You say trying to stop your hands from shaking.

"I mean this is quite important." She comments and you shake your head taking a seat next to her.

"No, the mission itself will be fine it's just, y'know.." You say not wanting to admit the issue at hand.

She smirks, "I think I know. Well, I say this is the perfect time to leave your mark."

You frown, "How?"

"You know how to be hot, make him restless, make him beg, turn him to a green headed sanji."

You laugh at her last remark before giving her a small hug.

"Okay I'll see you later."

"Bye! Have fun."

You open the door to find Zoro waiting opposite you. He's wearing a simple black suit with his top buttons undone and his tie lose.

"You're the one that said 5 minutes."

"Careful I've got a gun." You mutter walking past him.

"Huh?"

"Nothing! I was just saying how much of a great partner you are!" You say giving him a fake smile.

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

The car ride was incredibly silent but luckily it didn't last long. Although, you did notice Zoro:s eyes practically burning into you sometimes.

He follows behind you slowly as you walk towards the club, eyes glued to your ass and fabulous legs, you turn around and ask him to put your gun in his pocket since you didn't have any.

"Why didn't you bring a bag." He says trying to hide the gun in his inside pocket.

"Use your brain, dy'know how risky that is. Think about why you didn't bring your swords." You sigh and he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You hiss.

"The show starts now princess." He whispers in your ear.

"If you call me that again I will blow your head off." You whisper back giving him a small but deadly smile.

≪•◦ ★◦•≫ [ btw you're going by the name Rose and Zoro decided to disregard the name he was given and choose 'Zuro'

You and Zoro have been in the club for about 5 minutes now and you've been trying to find Silver and Lisa amongst the massive crowd of people.

"How the fuck are we going to find them."

"Wait look." He says pointing to the v.i.p section.

You find yourselves looking at a blue haired girl grinding on a blonde haired guy with funky sunglasses.

"I can't believe you managed to find them before me." You scoff and he smirks as the two of you move through the crowd.

"We'll sit in the booth next them." He says and you nod.

He grabs your hand and swiftly pulls you onto the chair.

Just behind you are your targets making some unearthly sounds and saying some interesting things...

You can't help but let out a loud laugh until zoro covers your mouth with his hands. You notice he's got a smile on his face too and can't help but find him cute .

" I think we need to get their attention." You whisper seductively in his ear.

"mm, that sounds good to me." He says back, giving you a sinful look.

You position yourself onto him and start to slowly grind.

"this doesn't mean anything." You say in his ear and he responds with a loud moan which makes you pinch him on the shoulder.

"what the hell are you doing." you hiss.

"getting their attention."

You put your hands on his shoulders and move according to the music. Zoro bobs his head along, his hands loosely placed on each sides of your hips.

The urge to take of his trousers and really get to feel him is so high but you've got a mission to fulfill. It seems your little game wasn't beneficial to what you were meant to do at all, the couple hadn't turned around once.

"I talk to Lisa you talk to Silver." You whisper to Zoro whose eyes were closed.

"Why can't we finish?" He grunts.

"Because we have a job."

You get off him and walk over to the two lovers. You tap Lisa's shoulder and whisper to her, " hey I'm super sorry but d'you know where the bathrooms are?"

She smiles at you and immediately whispers something to Silver who rolls his eyes. You turn to give Zoro a look, telling him to strike conversation with Silver.

You walk to the bathroom with Lisa who seemed to be talking to you about 2 bitchy strippers who insulted her just a few minutes ago.

"No way what bitches they are!" You say pretending to be shocked.

" I know right, their bras were flimsy as fuck too, what right do they have going after my boyfriend" She continues putting on some lipstick.

"Who runs this place it's super cool." You ask her whilst blowing your nose.

"That big guy, oh what's his name Akainu, yeah, he's barely ever here though."

"Akainu?? As in that super pretentious and problematic government guy?"

"Yeah him, but uh was that green haired dude your boyfriend?"

Your eyes widen at the thought, " yeah, he is, and I'm guessing the guy you were with is yours?"

"Yeah, we actually work together."

"Really? What'd you do?"

"Sort of send government messages and stuff." She hums. You could tell she wanted you to keep asking her about it.

"Oh my gosh that is so cool, you're so cool." You say trying so hard to not sound sarcastic.

"No I'm not.. Am I??"

"I mean totally, you work for the government!!"

"Hey I'll tell you a secret, I'm actually working right now." She says smirking at you.

"Omg are you serious??"

"Yes, there's some people here looking for us."

"Wait. Omg What if it's those strippers? They flirted with your boyfriend right and they insulted you." You say and she looks at you shocked.

"Oh. My. God."

"I've got an idea."

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

Whilst y/n was busy wrapping Lisa around her finger, Silver and Zoro were having a quite different conversation whilst smoking a cigarette or two.

"She's just so-"

"Sexy?" Silver asks and Zoro nods profusely.

"Yeah and like we've sort of got this thing where we 'hate eachother' it's so hot you've got know idea. Like I do find her bitchy and annoying alot of the time but she's still so attractive" Zoro says passing Silver the lighter.

"oh that's interesting, have you guys fucked yet?"

"nah it's currently just a bunch of tension, but I can't handle just looking at her secretly and checking her out y'know." Zoro says, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"No I get what you mean, like with Lisa I had the perv phase, that's probably what you're going through."

"Shit you're right."

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

Now the mission was about to get hard, you and Zoro need to get that letter from Aikanu to Kizaru urgently.

Whilst Zoro was doing absolutely nothing to help you were doing like 5 things at once.

You and Lisa have teamed up ( with her not knowing who you are) to get revenge on her apparent enemies (the strippers) by stripping to your lingerie and sneaking into the stage to give a show, during this you're hoping zoro could use his fucking brain and use the time to look for the letter so you could both get the fuck out of here.

As soon as the girls on stage leave you both take the opportunity and rush on.

"What the fuck, dude they're on stage!! " Silver says tapping zoro who turns around and nearly chokes on his cigarette. Here he was looking at you handle that metal pole like you had a thousand times. He notices another tattoo on your lower stomach, why'd you have to drive him crazy all the damn time?

"we need to get to the front." Zoro mutters, jumping out of his seat and pushing past a bunch of people who were throwing an abundance of money onto the stage. As soon as he got in a good position, his eyes locked onto yours, you gave him a smile and a wink before doing another trick on the pole which gained many many cheers.

You give Zoro a look, telling him to get the document which would either be in Lisa's handbag or Silver's pocket.

He smirks at you before he shoves a stack of cash in Silver's left pocket allowing him to pick up a miniscule usb stick instead of paper. In a flash he slips it in his pocket and tells Silver he had to go to the bathroom to take care of some 'business'

Zoro has never really had to rush when it came to a mission, only on rare occasions, this was a rare occasion he needed to get you back in the base immediately and fuck the daylights out of you. He quickly finds another usb stick in Lisa's purse and takes a look at your dress on the floor.

Did he need to take it?? Nah, you'd be fine.

You look infront of you to see Zoro at the front doors gesturing to you that he had found what you needed. You tell Lisa that you and your boyfriend had "business you needed to attend to" which may well be true and rush out.

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

"Fuck, my dress." You say turning round to get it but Zoro throws you his blazer, "wear that."

"Uh thanks, so what'd you find?" You say, opening the car door.

" 2 USB Sticks." He says passing them to you as he started to drive.

"Ohh I see, Chopper told me it's their new and improved way of communication."

"Where'd you learn how to pole dance?"

You chuckle, a certain memory resurfacing your mind. "Uh, it was while you and the boys were on this big mission, us girls got super drunk and found ourselves in a strip club dancing around on the poles."

"Hot."

You put the sticks in the glovebox and look at Zoro who seemed to be tomato red.

"Why are you so red?" You ask.

"Because it's hot." He responds firmly.

You chuckle, you let your eyes trail down and notice a large tent in his trousers.

"And what's your explanation for this?" You ask, letting your hand rest on his crotch.

"Don't be a brat y/n."

" A brat?? I'm just asking you why you're hard and you're too damn shy to answer."

His eyes are glued to the road but his mind is racing.

"You know what you're doing." He says trying not to give in to temptation.

You quickly move your hand away and rest it on your thigh. "Enlighten me."

"Just wait till we get back, you'll get what you want." He says with gritted teeth. All he wanted to do was stop the car and fuck you in the backseat but he knew all too well that that was too risky, even today he had planted those fake chips in there every single mission made the government more and more angry so you had to be vigilant.

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

Zoro quickly hands Luffy the UBS sticks and rushes to find you. After checking multiple rooms he finally finds you, in his room, getting ready to shower, wearing his bathrobe.

"this is my room what are you doing?" He snaps and you give him a small smile.

"I feel like we've been other this roronoa. this isn't your room, this is no-one's room, this is chopper's base not yours so why don't you wait outside instead of lecturing me."

Zoro doesn't respond to what you say instead he pulls you into the bathroom, shuts the door and kisses you, his tongue explores your mouth whilst his hand easily slips off his bathrobe that you were wearing. He pushes you up against the bathroom wall, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck as he lets hand wander down to your aching clit.

"now, you can see all the dirty things I do to you so there won't be any misunderstandings." He mutters in your ear.

"come on, go faster-" you beg, watching him finger you agonisingly slowly for his amusement.

"But you've been such a brat honey." He taunts and you whine.

"Zoro please." You beg, it's so embarrassing feeling tears well up in your eyes from your so called enemy teasing you too much.

"You're so high maintenance " He says, rapidly increasing his pace, watching your eyes roll back from the feeling of his thick fingers stuffing you full.

He continues this motion until your moans get louder and louder telling him you were about to cum.

"Are you gonna cum for daddy now?" He whispers seductively in your ear.

"F-fuck yes." You say, letting out a sigh of relief after releasing your juices all over his lap.

"What a fucking mess."

"You won't mind you're a mess eater." You say, cupping a handful of your cum and shoving it in his mouth completely taking him by surprise.

He swallows as much as he can, letting some drip down the corners of his mouth and onto his shirt

"I can't control it babe." He says letting the nickname roll of his tongue like honey, looking at you with evil eyes knowing how feral that name would make you.

You quickly unzip his trousers and pull his girthy cock out of his briefs.

"are you gonna suck it or just sit there?" He says impatiently.

You give his cock a small lick before looking up at him, " I don't mind just sitting here."

"I better speed up the process then." He says shoving his cock down your throat.

"Anything to say Y/n? No?" He says, giving you a toothy grin as you bob your head up and down his cock. You move faster, earning some low pitched cursing and groans from him. Soon enough, he releases his thick load, a loud groan leaving his throat. You finally move back staring at him with watery eyes.

"I don't take you for a messy eater, you swallowed everything right?"

You nod and push him onto the floor, crawling on top of him and quickly unbuttoning his shirt. You sink onto him, moaning at the mix of pleasure and pain you got from the feeling of his massive cock filling you up.

"You wanna have a ride baby?" Zoro asks, you roll your eyes at him, he could never shut his mouth even when he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

"Why do you never shut up zoro?" You snap at him as you start to bounce on his cock, your gummy walls taking in every inch of him.

"You're acting like you don't like to hear my voice." He says, he lets his hand trace the tattoo on your stomach. As he watches you through the mirror, his eyes get hypnotised on the way your breasts bounce up and down and the sound of your body slapping against each other puts his ears on fire.

You can feel your thighs get weak and your body go limp as your orgasm creeps up too.

"Fuck I'm close." You whimper, trying to increase your pace.

Zoro's groans and grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy clench around him.

"You're fucking suckin' me in " he groans, rolling his eyes backwards as he finally cums all over.

You cum straight after and finally realise what you two have just done.

"what the fuck." You say in long breaths.

"That was fun." Zoro says winking at you returning back to his teasing.

" You and I. Did we seriously just-"

"Fuck. Yes we are two consenting adults that's how it works." He mutters carrying you into the bath.

"This is not happening again."

He scoffs, "sure."

"I'm being serious."

"I haven't even fucked you yet." He says passing you the soap and jumping in the bath.

"Why are you here?"

"This is my room."

"We've been other this."

"Will you ever stop being a brat??"

"Will you ever shut the fuck up? There's your answer."

≪•◦ ★ ◦•≫

part 2 (which is coming soon) synopsis: it's been 3 weeks since you and zoro first fucked and you can't seemed to keep your hands off each other, especially whe you're training

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 5 (main finals): Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

----

everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject 

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

----

Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

----

TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

[ax-y10]

omg wil would totally wear those no problem. he would be the one to buy them lowkey.

would most definitely pull the "is the movie too scary? cmere I can protect you" line

he would also make a basket to surprise you w your favorite candies, snacks and drinks and a blanket

-mouse 🧀

Sorry if these are really cringy, it's 10:50 pm and my brain is fried, so please don't attempt to kill me for these.

1-

"a gift? For me?" Wilbur had joked as he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a face towel he needs to listen to what you say.

"no, it's a gift for me. Of course it's for you, doofus. It won't fit me," you continued on, holding out the matching set of pyjamas for him to put on.

He rushed back into the bathroom, a bang heard and a muttered "I'm not dead" before he emerged again, the pants barely reaching his mid shins and his shirt basically squeezed against him.

"now, in my defence, the place I got them from didn't have your size, so don't come after me-" and you were picked up and plopped into the bed, a movie picked out in a good 20 seconds.

"any gift from you is a good gift," and soon enough, you were both asleep, Wilbur more so sprawled out on you.

2-

"is the movie too scary? C'mere, I can protect you," Wilbur

"oh piss off, Wilbur" Y/n

"Wilbur, stop being lovesick" Tommy

Safe to say for the rest of the evening, he looked like a kicked puppy, having been ganged up on by his partner and his best friend. He got his hugs in the end, and he got to 'protect' you.

3-

It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to go home and spend time with your boyfriend. It didn't help either that there was the regular rain shower on your walk home.

However, once you got home, you were comforted by the soft smell of baking bread, the sound of the shower running and the feel of the rug underneath your feet. All you needed was a simple hug from Wilbur, a few soft kisses from him and a warm set of his clothes and you could sleep peacefully.

After you set down your stuff from the day, you'd made yourself busy with getting changed into something simple until you went to bed.

A warm pair of arms snakes around your waist, accompanied by a soft whisper of "hello, my dear" and a heavy head rested on your shoulder.

"I have a surprise for you," Wilbur spoke, mischief in his tone.

"now if you somehow smashed a plate-"

"no no no, it's better than that," he assured, leading you down into the living room, and setting you on the couch. He pulled out a picnic basket, full with your favourite lollies, snacks, drinks, a throw blanket, a small pillow and a new sweater that Wilbur had gotten for you, matching one of his sweaters he has.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the utter affection you had already received, having only been home for a good total of about 5 minutes.

"thankyou," and that's all he needed to snuggle up into your side and switch on your favourite movie.

[sistertotheknowitall]

So my brother has to re-interview for his job because the company is restructuring. Well last night I had dream that he needed to take a test over a book called The Man and His Three Dogs (not very creative but I was asleep). Anyway my subconscious decided that my brother and I needed to have a full in depth conversation about the book, which is fairly common as we’re both readers. This lead to my brain laying out a whole book plot while I was sleeping.

The book had three parts, each part relating to a different time in the man’s life and different dogs that found and helped him through them. In the first part the man is young, maybe early 20s and it’s like 1930 around the time of the dust bowl in the Midwest. He has just set out on his own and meets a man he falls in love with, Herbi, he learns about that part of himself and his sexuality. He is a reckless and impulsive young man but Herbi, who is older maybe mid 30s, and Herbi’s senior dog show him it’s okay to slow down and enjoy the quiet moments. The main character learns what love and security feels like.

Then we get to the second part and he’s a little older, now maybe in his 30’s but he’s still reckless, however less impulsive. He is a miserable man. It is now like 1947/48. He is living in some dreary city with PTSD from World War Two. We find out through part two how he got to this point. Drunk, depressed, and completely alone. The war, of course, and losing the friends he found there. He cheated on Herbi because after the war he turned to alcohol to cope and while he was away Herbi’s dog died. It is in this depressed state that he finds a half starved dog that needs help. By helping and taking care of her, he starts to take care of himself and realizes that if he tries a little then maybe things will be okay.

The third part has him in his late 40s early to mid 50’s. He’s not old but he’s not young and reckless anymore. He is settled into a quiet country house and enjoying the quiet the way Herbi taught him. He is comfortable and content. He is a mechanic in the small town nearby. We are hit by the contrast of him at this age and the changes in times. Everything moves faster and in someways he feels older than his age because this new generation doesn’t remember how bad things were a few years ago. People great him by name and some people joke that he’s too young to be an old timer. These people don’t know what all he’s been through and who he use to be but us the readers do. It’s a little surreal. His second dog is older and doesn’t like to do much now adays but she had puppies. He kept one who goes with him to the shop occasionally. She’s only 4 and very playful, he says she keeps him young. It’s the end of the book when she runs off and he’s chasing her only to find her being pet by a man older than him standing with a young woman (presumably the man’s granddaughter) also petting the dog. He stops a few feet away and the man looks up. It’s Herbi.

Anyway, in my dream my brother said it had a hopeful ending but I was still pissed about the cheating lol

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Why is Johnny so beautiful and sexy? ♥️♥️

I fell in lust with Johnny the moment I saw him. Let's do an in-depth analysis on why he's so gorgeous, shall we? Here's a picture I'll be using for reference-

Physical features

That ass

That ASS omfg

He's got hunter eyes—his brow being low makes his eyes look dangerous and predator-like

He smirks quite a bit, everyone knows smirks are sexy as fuck

Dark eyes and dark hair is a killer combination (no pun intended)

His eyebrows are sharp and low, giving a perpetual, mildly pissed off expression we slasher simps love

It might be just me, but I think his nose is hot too, like the curve of it looks like it might have been broken at one point

His lips are just full enough to bite 😈

He's got a real toothy grin with pronounced canines

Slicked back hair is sexy as fuck. I can't really express why, but a lot of my faves have that hairstyle. Maybe it shows they put some effort into their appearance?

Angular jawline with high cheekbones? Slay me now

He's got muscles but they aren't bulging or overwhelming, they look like muscles that came from hard work

Speaking of bulging, have you SEEN the front of this man's jeans? He is packing like 7-8 inches minimum

The perfect amount of stubble lines that gorgeous jawline

The amount of scars this man has makes me think he probably fights for fun, maybe he even lets victims get the upper hand or find a weapon only to still beat them in the end. Hot.

He's tall, and physically intimidating

I think he's mixed white and Korean based off his eyes, double hot.

Dat ass💋

Personality/Non-Physical Features

His voice is deep as fuck. (I wish he sounded more Texan though. He sounds like Albert Wesker IMO, not that I don't love Wesky I just think he isn't southern enough.)

He's got supreme confidence. "Nobody escapes me."

He seems playful, like how he said "Hey there!" To Maria when he grabbed her camera. Silly murder baby 👉👈

I like how he treats Bubba, he's rather kind to him.

When he walks slowly he's got swagger to his step 🤤

I think if all stalkers were even 50% as hot as Johnny people would have a lot less of an issue with being stalked tbh

He's charming, and used to pulling women, so he's clearly got game.

Definitely manipulative and narcissistic, but I'm here for it, manipulate me every second of every day pwese Johnny 🥺

When he says, "That's it, die for me!" It makes me wish I could die for him fr

[dark-elf-writes]

I saw someone talking about the Big Three having so many demigods and two of them breaking the oath, and I just realized it is so much worse than them just "breaking the oath."

These are immortal, ancient beings, that have been alive for actual *eons*.

Given that, you'd think they'd be able to contain themselves (if not to their marriages, then at least to non mortals) for a few hundred years, right?

A hundred years at /Least/, yeah?

Wrong.

If you go by the timeline of Percy being 12 when the first book was published in 2005 (which I always have), then they made it *less then 50 years*.

With Thalia being born 5 years before Percy, Zeus specifically made it ~barely over 40~.

That's like making a deal with two of your siblings that all of you are going to.... IDK... cut back on how much sugar you're eating and 20 minutes later you walk in on one eating 2 tubs of icecream, and after you finish fighting with that one the other walks through eating an entire pan of cinnamon rolls.

If I was Hades I be pissed the fuck off too.

(Don't get me wrong it's still fucked up that he went after Thalia like he did, but damn.)

I’ve always understood why Hades is mad like on an intellectual level. But if my siblings pressured me into something I didn’t want to do only to turn around and break it immediately I would have gone full Cain I’m not even going to lie.

Also considering Zeus was the one that killed Maria and made Hades have to Bianca and Nico for decades until AFTER both of the others broke the oath when both of his kids weren’t eligible in the first place I’m fully surprised it wasn’t a full divine cage match the second he found out about Thalia’s existence.

[518062]

What does a normal day look like for Katsuki?

It starts at eight o’clock in the morning, depending on his shift. Often, he fights the urge to succumb to the blankets and let the warmth swallow him. Then he remembers who he is, chastises himself, and grumpily stomps to the bathroom––ignoring the blackout curtains––lest Izuku is there. If he wakes up next to his husband, he absolutely leans back and enjoys the lavender scent. Sometimes, he sneakily scents Izuku, but the dick always notices.

After brushing his teeth with such adamance the friction will set them on fire, he heads into the kitchen and gets to work. This bit is his favourite, whether Izuku is present or not. He’s always looking for new ways to brighten their palate with foreign recipes and unconventional methods for classic dishes. The chance of failure with such experimentation is 50/50, but Katsuki thinks he’s gotten better at it; Izuku, the greedy alpha, will eat anything Katsuki makes him, anyway, especially if it’s a bento box, which Katsuki physically hands to him almost every day without fail. It is the most important task of the day, and Izuku thanks him profusely every time, whispering compliments into his ear as they scent one another in an extensive hug. It is also Katsuki’s second favourite moment of the day, besides cooking the actual thing. For him, cooking is a way to express himself, and Izuku is the lucky receptor of these messages, be it an insanely spicy curry or a sickeningly sweet crepe. His thoughts are derailing, he knows, but when every waking moment is spent thinking of his buff alpha, such events occur.

After cooking comes the mundane part––cleaning. Izuku keeps insisting on a maid, knowing Katsuki will be knackered before his shift even begins. Katsuki refuses. If he cannot take care of his home and alpha, the notion will eat him up inside out––plus, he despises losing, and vows to be the best omega (and pro hero) ever (three years in a row for the latter).

Cleaning, much like cooking, involves a 50/50 probability, this time weighing on two things: indignation and rejuvenation. Mitsuki always yelled the house down every Sunday morning, and forced Katsuki to learn all the techniques––he hated it back then, but now, he treats it tenderly. Sometimes, hoovering is an absolute pain in the ass, imploring him to burn the carpet, which the machine sucks onto––but laundry is even worse. Nothing pisses him off more than having to fold fifty t-shirts which have idiotic words like “evening” and “happy” on them. Yet scrubbing bathroom tiles with music blasting is oddly refreshing, and has also gotten him some complaints from neighbours, to which he responds in an equally rude letter that “it’s eleven o’clock in the morning, asshole. You don’t have a job?”

Since he’s a god at cleaning, like everything else he’s good at, Katsuki prepares for his shift. He works full time, just like Izuku, but gets some leeway––later shifts mean more action, anyway, and he craves some explosion therapy. An average shift spans eight hours, and he always finishes in time to give Izuku his lunch.

Most days, it’s the usual. Izuku is surprisingly a picky eater, and Katsuki thought he was used to it by now, but god, did his husband irk him. Just eat the fucking wasabi, he writes on that day’s message, slapped onto the lunchbox and neatly put in its bag. Izuku always thanks him but still takes the wasabi out and it’s… fuck, he’s such a loser. He often feels like he’s taking care of a child, but Izuku opens his mouth to say the most dirty thing ever with a casual smile, and Katsuki swallows the thought.

After the unfortunately brief lunch date, Katsuki goes home and enjoys some self-care. He likes to take a two-mile run around the city whenever he can; it’s important to keep training even off company time––and it’s patrolling. Izuku always tells him to be careful and not marry his job, but Katsuki reminds him of his descent into madness since becoming important in his workplace and, yeah, they’re both in deep. After running, he takes a pleasant shower, which compliments his vanilla scent because fucking yes, he wants Izuku begging for it tonight. Well, that depends on the day, and if his heat’s incoming.

If his heat’s due? The entire day collapses and reignites like a phoenix. Katsuki hates a lack of routine, and his heats are awfully unpredictable by nature, but Izuku drops everything to pick up the pieces, to keep the day going as normal. When his heat comes, Katsuki loses all his excitement in being a housewife and lets himself ogle at his alpha’s burly arms as he folds the hideous t-shirts, as he wipes bubbles off his face, sick of doing dishes, holding his tongue as his omega follows him around, watching his every move.

When the heat actually arrives, Katsuki lets go of adult responsibility, preps, and waits for Izuku to wake up; he can’t sleep during such arduous nights, and they both book the time off. Sometimes, the heat becomes so unbearable, Katsuki gingerly pulls the blanket off and strips his husband waist down to just…sit on his cock. That’s all. Or ride it while he’s drooling like a fool. Either or works, satiating Katsuki until Izuku stirs and really scolds Katsuki for the freaky attempt (but he likes it anyway).

Otherwise, Izuku absolutely must not touch the house. Even stepping into the kitchen for a bullshit chamomile tea doesn’t suffice. Katsuki cannot trust his mate to keep his clumsy hands to himself, and prefers to do all the work, anyway. Izuku incessantly begs for anything to do, especially on calmer days, but Katsuki denies. Alpha will sit down, relax, and Katsuki will handle it. In the early years of living together, Katsuki shoved this stupid omega thought down, but once he saw how Izuku mopped, he let it overwhelm him. Over time, being a housewife became Katsuki’s pride, and everyone knew from their scents just how well taken care of his alpha was.

Katsuki isn’t ashamed to admit that he seeks validation. What kind of omega would he be if he didn’t want his alpha’s attention? He relishes in Izuku’s lovesick glances, his tooth rotting prose, his stupid freckles, even when he hogs the blanket and wakes up from intense nightmares. His alpha is his world; the second most important person (besides himself, duh) in his life, and nothing will ever top the priority of making sure he has the most perfect life until death do them part. Funny, because Katsuki was not one for corny wedding vows.

In the evening, when Izuku’s home, dinner’s served and Katsuki’s free from hero paperwork, he has one last household task: to make sure Izuku validates his efforts. He gets ready for bed at ten o’clock sharp as the early bird he is, doing the boring stuff, handling some laundry, sorting them into their colour coded baskets, and finishing other chores he did not have time for during the day. Izuku, ever the insomniac, often stays up late, kissing Katsuki’s temple and wishing him goodnight, but recently, Katsuki has been nagging at him to get into the bed and “spoon me now or die”. He also isn’t ashamed to ask for affection, not after so many years of insecurity, not when he has died for his mate and lived again—all for him, defying the world’s most perilous villain and time itself––for him. So Izuku joins in with the bedtime skincare routine, because lord knows his acne infested face needs it, and his eczema has gotten worse.

Finally, they tuck into bed––Izuku keeps his glasses on, phone inches from his face, brightness up to the max as he responds to some emails, and Katsuki opts for a book; he doesn’t like social media much anyway, and watches Izuku from the corner of his eye. They coexist in a comfortable silence for approximately twenty minutes before Katsuki has enough; he puts his book away, snatches Izuku’s phone out of his scarred, massive (sexy) hand, and crosses his arms, waiting for the familiar words. Izuku is a little stupid, so sometimes he completely forgets, all his intelligence being used up in the day for his intense life, abandoning his perfect omega. In these times, Katsuki feels his omega wallow, but has learnt to ignore it, because Izuku is only human; he is human, and this routine they have is not perfect. They do not live in clouds, although Katsuki loves to dream.

Yet again, there is a 50/50 chance that Katsuki is going to explode Izuku’s face. Izuku will either smile a. awkwardly or b. sheepishly, both being applicable because he still acts like a flustered fourteen-year-old around his husband. Katsuki waits and waits.

On one particular June evening, Izuku melts Katsuki's heart.

“Kacchan,” he says, holding both his mate’s hands, staring into his red eyes with such devotion it makes Katsuki feel like he can rule the world. “You are so much to me. Everything. And you do so much for me. Every day, you put up with me, even when I annoy you, even when you’re having a hard day, even––” he chokes on a sob, and Katsuki’s grip tightens. “Even though I’m barely here, and it kills me––I want to be here, next to you, doing stupid chores with you, helping you around the house and I can’t. It kills me.”

Katsuki stills, but his heart beats with haste. He watches Izuku’s shoulders droop, tears soaking the mattress, eyebrows furrowing, hair pulled back with those stupid clips his students got him, and something about it is so juvenile it makes Katsuki’s entire soul ache. His alpha is crying. Has he upset him? No, silly omega, he says to himself. Izuku is a crybaby––he always has been, and he possesses emotions to the most physical degree, making everyone see them. Izuku has so many notebooks, but no pen or paper can satisfy his perpetual train of thought; nothing can withstand the grand quantity of emotion he holds in his lungs, the motions which he breathes in and out, for they are him, his fuel in life, what has kept him from suicide again and again. Katsuki knows––Izuku’s very grateful, and while the omega chooses actions, Izuku chooses words, and this is merely how they express their love, and it always works, but they both take on too much, ‌tipping this scale, and Izuku feels guilt as much as he does gratitude, always stressing over things which are minute to Katsuki (like ironing his tie) when such topics are customary for Katsuki.

So Katsuki waits; like he waits for his phone to show two o’clock so he can get the fuck out of his sweaty suit and see his husband, waits for him again at five o’clock when he comes home, table already set, food still warm.

“I know you’re fine with it, and we’ve been doing this forever, and I suppose I am incredibly selfish, but––” Izuku takes a deep breath, lavender scent becoming bitter, so bitter even bees would not visit. Katsuki tries to calm him with his own scent and prays it works. “I need more. Of you, of being with you. I’m so sorry for bringing this up so late. You’re… so perfect, and gorgeous, and there is––ugh––no words to describe you, or the deep desire I feel for you. How did I get so blessed to be with the best omega in the world?” His body relaxes, and he moves his hands out of Katsuki’s grip, bringing them to the blonde’s face, holding his pale cheeks and giving him with that look again. The one Katsuki can never decipher. It’s like Izuku turns it on every night before bed, right before he gives Katsuki an essay about his talents and amazing housework, but it’s intense today, like a humongous candle flame, fierce and unwavering. Katsuki yearns for that flame––he wants to burn––even if he has spent his whole life burning and succumbing to dramatic explosions––he wants to burn.

“I am…” he begins, never the one who spoke; Izuku studied him and learnt his language when no one else had, so he never felt the need to, not even now, but this is important. “I am so fucking in love with you, shitty alpha. I hate washing your t-shirts, and I hate putting your shoes on the rack ‘cause you know I remind you every day and you never do it. I love you,” he says it again, clearing his throat, as Izuku wipes the tears away with his thumbs. “The best omega can only be with an alpha who knows how to treat him right. That’s you. Got it? D-Don’t spring this shit up on me again,” he stutters, closing his eyes, feeling Izuku’s wet lips softly press against his. This is not part of the routine––not that physical touch isn’t, because Katsuki’s clingy as fuck, but this sudden wave of emotion, elation, pride, yes, love, an absolutely thirst-quenching desire to become one with this man? Not part of what a normal day for Katsuki looks like.

Izuku leans back, curly lashes wet with joy, his scent becoming so overwhelming, Katsuki wants to drink it.

“Thank you, Kacchan.” He says in a hoarse voice, getting into bed properly, back against the headboard as Katsuki immediately lays flat, aiming for his lap. It’s an odd position, but Katsuki scowls in happiness. “My darling omega.”

Katsuki’s cock twitches at the praise, but he is too emotionally drained. He just lets Izuku’s happiness settle in his hair and closes his eyes, purring loudly, enjoying this intervention, appreciating the scarcity. He loves Izuku, but too many words, and he’s a goner.

Izuku understands this, like he understands Katsuki inside out, front to back, like an ancient text which has been shared for centuries, as if he were a holy book, a religion, a deity whom Izuku praised as if his life depended on it. He has memorised every action, every glare, every threatening hand, his blood, the way his scars change colour as the seasons pass. This life has been tumultuous, and it will continue to be––they are allowed to have this normalcy, to pretend they are ordinary people in this flat, this home, where the couch is always a mess of Pro Hero Deku blankets, where white t-shirts with stupid slogans hang on the drying rack.

This is a day in the life for Katsuki, and Izuku is in the centre, the centre of his world; he is the world. Katsuki’s world.

[lanadeldixon]

Summertime Sadness (pt2)

Pairing: Daryl x fem reader

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: after Daryl joined the saviours you don’t get as much time together so when the opportunity arises for a little fun you know you have to take it…

Warnings: foreplay, mention of scars, public embarrassment

Authors note: This is for everyone who wanted part 2!! Also I haven’t been very well which means I haven’t been in the right mindset to proofread properly so I’m really sorry if at points it doesn’t make sense 😅 (btw to those who haven’t read part 1, you can read without having read it, but part 1 low-key slayed so as someone who is obviously completely unbiased, I recommend it.)

After everything that happened I didn’t see Daryl much anymore, he would disappear for weeks and only come back to take supplies however when we did run into eachother we tried to make the best of it.

Even if it meant just a slight touch of our hands or a lingering gaze from our separate stations. We did all we could to show one another we still belonged to eachother.

There was a day, around the end of august, I was stationed to guard the gate when I saw the trucks.

Our worst nightmare had come early, collection day, however part of me was exhilarated, the idea of seeing his face again ran laps in my mind.

A melodic whistle could be heard through the town and a sense of longing took over as I desperately searched for his face, but to my dismay I couldn’t spot him anywhere.

I climbed down the ladder, I’d normally never abandon my watch but I figured the saviours wouldn’t allow any walkers to come in and potentially harm Negan.

Besides we all had to gather up our stuff to contribute to the 50%.

“He’s here,” Rosita muttered under her breath, I could hear the despise in her voice as she spoke, I would’ve comforted her but the second the gate opened, all of my senses focused on searching for him.

My eyes darted around the group in front of us, looking for him although all I was met with was an almost knowing gaze from Negan, I still held out hope that he’d be there too…

As stressed as I felt, I made sure not to break our staring contest , “where is he” I wanted to say “what did you do?” but my mouth stayed shut.

“Dixon, bring him out,” his voice grew louder with each word and an even larger smile took over his face, fighting for power as he made sure to not be the one to break the eye contact.

I exhaled at the sound of his name, knowing he was alive was all that mattered to me…

Clanging sounds could be heard from the back of the front truck but still no Daryl in sight, worry began to fill me and it must’ve been evident on my face as Negan leaned in uncomfortably close to my ear before whispering, “don’t worry gorgeous, I don’t wanna make you cry again now do I? With a pretty face like yours, you should never be sad.” As he said it he lifted his finger to my chin so that ours faces were aligned.

My brows furrowed,

“Carl,” he exclaimed with excitement.

My head turned sharply confused as to why Carl was with them, as soon as my eyes landed on him I noticed who was stood by his side…

“Daryl,” I whispered a sad smile on my face.

He looked good, he was wearing his old clothes again and his crossbow was slung on his shoulder, the bruises on his face had faded almost completely, he finally looked like he was getting better.

Carl on the other hand looked sickening, his face was sullen and pale and his wound was on full display, that wasn’t the gross part though, the gross part was the look on his face, i didn’t know what he had witnessed but I knew it had changed him.

“Show some respect boys, you might just be looking at my next wife,” he had a sick look painted on his face as his eyes shifted to Daryl, clearly trying to gage his reaction, to test his loyalty and most importantly, piss him off.

Daryl looked at him, eyes hooded in anger, resentment painted his face and I could see the jealousy rise in him as he looked at Negan’s finger slowly tracing my jaw.

I stood straight, eyes pinned on Daryl.

God he looked good.

“What’s with all the negativity? Damn you look like you wanna bite my hand off,” he joked.

“Maybe if you keep up your winning streak, I’ll let you keep this one,” the same twisted smile reappeared, I felt as though he was stripping me with his eyes.

“Now I got some business to take care off, where’s Rick?”

“He’s not here right now,” I stated nonchalantly.

“So I came all this way for nothing?” Everyone was silent as he spoke “I guess I’ll just have to wait for him then, Carl will show me around, won’t ya? The rest of you start gathering,” he ordered.

I turned to Daryl straight away knowing he’d have a plan, he lifted his eyebrows and looked towards my house.

He walked in the opposite direction, pushing past me on the way, I of course went along with it, snarling before walking towards my house. Once I got to the doorstep I waited, the saviours were already in the process of raiding my house so I knew we’d have to find somewhere else, my eyes searched for him, until they finally stopped the door to our shed wide open, praying it was him I rushed towards it trying not to look suspicious but also desperate to get my hands on him.

As soon as I entered I was shoved to the door forcing it to close as I was pressed up against it.

“God I missed ya darlin’” Daryl’s face met mine with hunger, my teeth nibbled my bottom lip in anticipation.

“Are you gonna keep talking or are we going to get to it,” I smiled, fixated on his mouth as his tongue slicked across his lower lip.

He hummed lowly in an approving manner before smashing his lips into mine, he moved in rapid motions, desperate to taste me and I followed his lead, leaning in and out of it when he did, brushing my tongue against his teeth, doing all I could to be closer to him.

He moved to my neck, nipping at it, I knew it would leave marks but I didn’t care, all I cared about was that moment, being with him meant everything to me.

As I lifted off my shirt, I watched him struggle to shake off his waistcoat, “fuckin’ thing,” he muttered as I let out a small giggle.

Once he finally managed to get it off he practically ripped off his shirt and moved towards me once again, smiling widely.

He placed his hand on my jaw and gently stroked his fingers across my cheek for a second, just admiring me, taking it all in, being happy we could finally be together again, even if it was just for one night…

“Yur so beautiful,” he said eyes shifting to every point on my face as if creating a painting in his mind in order to never forget this moment, so that he’ll never forget me.

My hand entwined with his and I rested my head on his chest, “You’re so handsome,” I smiled.

Slowly he began to nibble at my ear, then my jaw, then my neck, then finally he stopped at my breasts, making sure to leave as many marks on them as possible.

My hands explored his frame as he did mine, and wordlessly we began our separate adventures.

His back was muscled and scarred, I could feel every mark on it, I felt like I was exploring a gallery, feeling a painting and grasping at what it means, seeing the pain and beauty behind it.

Then I moved my hands to his chest as his hand lowered, sliding down my stomach before stopping at my waistband, my breath hitched as he whispered, “ya ready? Imma make sure ya never forget yur mine,” he drew out his voice as he spoke and his fingers slid further down.

“Always,” I moaned into his ear whilst his fingers pushed hardly against my core before pulling away quickly and tracing around the line of my underwear.

I continued to kiss him, in a sloppier manner this time, terrified he’d disappear again…

“All this for me?” He questioned with a teasing smile as he wiped his hands over my thighs, feeling just how wet I was.

“Mhm,” I said quickly leaning forward, desperate to taste him again, “we got time,” he muttered but was abruptly cut off by my mouth on his once again where it belonged.

Grabbing onto my thighs he placed me against the ground, keeping his body between my legs. He then began to unbuckle my trousers and pull them off my ankles, throwing them dramatically across the room. After he struggled to tug off his own trousers, readying himself for what comes next…

I leaned away from the door until I was on top of him, I could feel him beneath me, poking into my core.

“I need ya right now,” he moaned in a hushed tone, his hands gripping my ass to keep me in place.

My hand reached into his boxers as his lips found their way to my neck yet again.

“Oh holy shit!”

My head shot up and I turned around abruptly.

“Well what do we have here?” He questioned, Rick stood behind him mouth open in shock at the display.

I quickly realised the position we were in, me on Daryl’s lap in nothing but my underwear and Daryl in his boxers gripping my ass. Not to mention the atrocious amount of hickeys that had quickly formed all over my upper half.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I exclaimed quickly grabbing whatever clothes I could reach to cover myself with. Daryl quickly began to reach for his clothes.

“Well this is certainly a sight, don’t mind me please continue if you want, no need to get dressed,” he smirked.

Daryl shot him daggers as he pulled up his jeans.

“Outside.” Negan managed to boom still in an upbeat manner.

“At least let her get dressed properly man,” Daryl tried to sympathise.

“I said outside.” Negan said more sternly this time, so off we went.

Unfortunately my hunt for my clothes in the dimly lit shed did not go as planned, so there I stood in nothing but my underwear with daryl’s vest thrown over the top.

Daryl, who was stood in nothing but a pair of jeans, methodically pulled me towards him and placed a hand over my backside, trying to cover everything he could.

We got a few wolf whistles, I’m assuming from saviours, and a couple of shocked looks from everyone else.

“Daryl my boy, you’ve been so good up till now, I mean I told you I wanted her as a wife and you went and fucked her anyway! Isn’t that insane!” He laughed, it was almost like watching a comedy sketch, seeing him turn to his audience waiting for validation.

“But this took some balls, quite literally, so since I am such a caring guy, I decided you can keep your little play thing, take her home with you… However you fuck up even once, she’s done and I don’t just mean out of the sanctuary, I mean she’s done for good.” My breath hitched at the certainty he spoke with during his final statement.

“So what’s it gonna be Dixon?” He asked sinisterly.

“She belongs here.” Daryl stated confidently.

I knew he was being kind but wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

“You don’t want her?”

Daryl was silent contemplating his next response.

“Fine, well don’t say I didn’t give you the choice, I can’t let a face like that go to waste now can I?”

I met Daryls gaze in shock, he turned pale as his eyes widened.

“Nah that weren’t the deal,” he exclaimed clearly in a panic.

“The deal was you want her or you don’t. I never said I wouldn’t take her if you didn’t.”

“That ain’t fair!”

“Nothings fair dixon, now you made your choice, move along”

“I want her, I changed my mind, I want to take her back,”

“You already made your decision,”

“NO! I WANT HER!” he screamed at him.

Negan stayed silent for a second, waiting for the magic words, and soon enough they arrived…

“I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

“Beg.”

“Wha’?” Daryl said as if he misheard.

“Beg.”

[randomly--accessed--memories]

I gotta admit that I still think what happened to Niffty was worse than what happened to Vox. Although what Alastor did to Vox was an actual betrayal because they were friends before he was mind broken Vox was never at risk of dying. He had the support of the other Vees and Alastor would've most likely done everything in his power to protect Vox if he had possession of him the whole time. But Niffty was left on the streets of hell to fend for herself for almost 60 years straight and was only used as free labor for Alastor when summoned. She lost everything she had ever worked for in hell, was mind broken and was still at constant risk of dying on top of that. Vox at least had a legacy, had a support system strong enough to preserve his legacy. Niffty was a fucking pet. I would personally rather be truly loved than be some stray that's only used when it's convenient. And I hope Vox eventually gives Niffty credit for being as patient and empathetic as she is when he realizes how thoroughly she was discarded and fucked over.

I'm inclined to agree.

Niffty and Vox's relationship is weird in Heaven. Neither of them feel comfortable sitting with the horror of what happened to them, so they tend to mask that discomfort with humor. They lowkey have a "No, you had it worse" "No, you had it worse" running joke because it's easier to say things were worse for someone else than it is to acknowledge how much you're hurting. However, things take a sharp turn when it feels like someone else is diminishing what they went through. Vox can easily list off all the reasons why what Niffty went through was worse, but the second she implies that what he went through wasn't that bad (not actually what she was saying, but Vox is still working on the whole "not always assuming the worst of people" thing), he gets pissed. Conversely, Niffty has a huge amount of empathy for Vox, but occasionally resents how he tends to take up all the oxygen in the room (partially his fault, but at the same time, both at the hotel and in Heaven, the reason he got/needed more attention than her was because he's 50 years behind her in the recovery process and is unstable where she's mellowed).

It's rough, trying to learn how to be a good friend in Heaven, especially when they theoretically already learned how to do that, but now that they have full access to their old memories/emotions, it suddenly feels like they didn't truly learn anything. It was so much easier back when they were both so out of it that they couldn't understand feelings this complex– when "manage your emotions" just meant "don't start making things explode/clawing yourself" and "don't start abruptly bawling or stabbing things."