#I cannot begin to tell you how much those nice words mean to me

[skyshipper]

You know, there are shitty people on tumblr, rude anons, etc…..but the GOOD people here FAR outweigh the bad, and they don’t get enough credit. I swear 99% of people leave the nicest compliments on gifs, stories or via messages. Thank you to those lovely human beings. Your kindness is everything!! ❤️

[fatuismooches]

More Dottore and Fragile Reader voice lines, except it's your turn this time. A part two to this. Previous voice lines are here.

About Prime Dottore:

"Zandik. My one and only… words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. I refuse to forget any moment I've spent with him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I’ve given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don’t know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be… less of a burden on him…”

About Omega:

"Omega, huh... he is the only segment where I always spend time with completely alone. See, he's not prone to sharing, just like Prime. I don't mind much, honestly, it's nice to get away from all of the noise and be with him. He always coaxes me to be more selfish too... is it a good or bad thing he's influencing me?"

About Alpha:

"Yes, the grumpy cutie I met all those years ago, the start of it all. He says that my presence is a hindrance and it only disrupts his work, but we both know that's false. Often, I like to sit by him as he writes his notes, pointing out all the errors caused by the atrocity of his handwriting... Sometimes, I feel bad using him as a reminder of the past."

About Beta:

"It always baffles me that Beta was once how Dottore acted. I mean, have you seen the difference between 'Mega and Beta? Anyway... he's always such a fun segment to hang around! Even when his assistants cower behind me in fear! Oh, and whenever he goes 'he-he-ho-ho', it always makes me giggle. Please don't tell him I did that impression of him though."

About Delta:

"Oh, Delta's... pretty mean. A really big meanie, if I do say so myself. He never laughs, never smiles, never entertains my shenanigans, always sees right through me... so rude. Huh? Don't worry about me, I'm allowed to talk about him like this. I still love him, after all."

About Zeta:

"Zeta's always so elusive! It was such a pain to track him down at first, he was always avoiding me. I thought he hated me... but once I got a hold of him, he is always so attentive to me! However, it greatly saddens me that he thinks he "failed" me... and yet he doesn't know how much it hurts me more that I've caused him to be like this."

About Zandy:

"Have you met my son? He's the sweetest little thing, isn't he? I remember how shy he was in the beginning, but he quickly grew to be such a dear. Always so excited and eager for attention. I can't help but wonder if Dottore's life could have been different if more people were kinder to him as a child."

About Pierro:

"I will always be indebted to him and Her Highness for taking me in. He is pretty scary to be around, but I feel sort of bad for him. I can't imagine how much responsibility he has... I once promised him I'd work for the Fatui once I'm better, but he didn't react much. Hmph, I'll show him how much I can boost Dottore's efficiency!"

About Capitano:

"The only thing I really know about him is that he's incredibly strong and well respected, at least from other people. The single time I met him, I also learned he was quite well liked by animals too, but it's hard to get any more information when he's so quiet..."

About Columbina:

"Bina is the best friend I've always wanted. I'm glad she's always there for me whenever things go bad. Although I can never predict what she's going to do or say, which is pretty strange, considering who I'm with, that makes her company all the more fun. Still, the amount of embarrassing situations she's tricked me into with Dottore... makes my head hurt."

About Arlecchino:

"I wish we could be closer, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I can't really blame her though, the relationship between her and Dottore is... not the greatest, for reasons I understand. I wonder what she thinks of me, the person who still stands by his side despite his sins?"

About Pulcinella:

"Oh... the little grandpa? I've always wondered how he's the fifth rank, but there's probably more to it than I know. Regardless, I didn't expect him to be so kind to me. I only see him once in a while, but every time he seems to know how I'm doing. And then, he proceeds to give me the best advice, exactly what I needed to hear at that moment, even when it has to do with Dottore. It's kind of scary..."

About Scaramouche:

"Ah yes... the Balladeer. He always wants to start up something with me whenever we cross paths, which is why my patience runs very thin around him. I hope the next time he goes into the Abyss, he gets stuck there."

About Wanderer:

"Who?"

About Sandrone:

"Her research sounds so cool! I've seen some of the things she can create, and it's completely fascinating. I too once had a love for machines back when I was a student. It's just a shame she never comes out of her lab... there are never any chances for me to talk with her. Well, I can always talk with Alpha and Beta about their research at least."

About La Signora:

"I've barely ever seen or spoken to her, but she has my respect. I heard what happened to her husband. If I ever lost Dottore, I'm not sure if I'd be able to go on... or at least be as half as strong as she is."

About Pantalone:

"Oh, Lone's one of my good friends! He always has such unique ideas for me to get back at Dottore, and listening to him talk about his theories quite reminds me of listening to Dottore. He's helped me a lot, dealing with this man. Still... as he does with everyone, I'm kept at arm's length. It doesn't bother me, but I wish I could help him in some way. But I know that'll never be possible."

About Childe:

"Despite being a Harbinger, he's a lot nicer than you'd think. Well, especially compared to the others in the Fatui. He's great at conversation, his family is the sweetest... and he always promises to spar with me once I'm no longer sick. Truly great company. Too bad Dottore's attitude toward him is... less than favorable."

About Furina:

"At first I hated her just like all the other Gods, but after learning the truth, I can't help but greatly respect her. To take on such a burden without having a single shoulder to lean on and succeed in the end... I think I've been through a lot of pain, but at least I've had Dottore and the others to ease it even just a bit. But she had no one, and I admire her will."

About Nahida:

"I try not to waste my time on things that upset me. It's not good for my health."

Sprint Start:

"No, no, I am not running at all. Look, if I get hurt and Dottore finds out it was your fault, you'll be the ones strapped to the table, not me. Hey... I wouldn't mind being in that position, actually."

Chat - Worry:

"I hope that one day he can make peace with himself."

Chat - Old Times:

"Sometimes I wish I was just a simple student again, having no worries other than my grades and pulling all-nighters with Dottore. Actually, that doesn't really sound relaxing, does it?"

Chat - Idling:

"If you're just going to stand here doing nothing, then I'm going to take a seat over there."

When it Snows:

"Would you be willing to distract Dottie so I can chuck a snowball at him? No? How boring."

When the Sun is Out:

"It's a perfect day to have a picnic and listen to him rant again."

In the Desert:

"... Omega, Beta, Delta, I don't care which one of you does it, get over here and make your hands completely ice cold before I faint."

Something to Share - Talent:

"If you ever need help writing something, you can ask me. I wrote some pretty good essays back in the day, you know. Dottore once said I should even write a book! I thought he was bullying me, but he was actually serious, for some reason. Maybe I should get Zandy to draw some pictures?"

Something to Share - Secret:

"Dottore actually has quite a sweet tooth. Well, this probably isn't much of a secret anymore because I accidentally spilled it to the agents, but it would do you good to keep this in mind."

Interesting Things - Foxttore:

"This little guy here? He'll do you no harm unless I say so, so don't worry. He was one of Dottie's failed experiments roaming the lab until he gifted the creature to me! These pufflings too, surprisingly they help me a lot more than you'd think. They're pretty strong, carrying all my things."

Favorite Pastimes - Meals:

"It's time to eat already? No need to worry about me, I'll just wait for a segment. See, it's best for both of us if I have company while I eat. My hands... aren't the most reliable."

Troubles:

"I am very happy that they have a good place to conduct all the research they want, but I wish they paid some more attention to me sometimes. Voicing this complaint over and over again, however, is too exhausting."

Amusement:

"Dottore's fan club never ceases to amuse me. I know every Harbinger has one but... it's completely hilarious. To go so far as creating a handbook about the two of us... well, I appreciate the dedication and the laughs, especially when I update Dottore on their activities. He may not care, but I support them!"

[faux-ecrivain]

’Yan’ Roommate

(Eight Official Post)

(This one could be viewed as platonic obsession, also in this story you (the darling)  is at least 26-32. Of course, feel free to change the age.)

(Yandere’s name is Lucas)

Yan Roommate who only roomed with you because houses are expensive.

Yan roommate who absolutely despises you, not because you’re annoying, but because you’re nosey. (Always asking about his day, his dates and so on.)

Yan roommate who goes out of his way to sneak in when he’s been out late, just to avoid your questions. (It doesn’t work, obviously, you always stay up late waiting for him)

Yan roommate who absolutely cannot bring anyone over, because you immediately start acting as though he’s going to marry them. 

You beckon him to the kitchen, a mischievous smile on your face. “oh, Lucas, is that your date? She’s so cute!” You compliment his date, which makes Lucas somewhat uncomfortable. “Is she hungry? I made dinner!” You hand him a plate, still warm as you had it plastic wrapped, and he resist the urge to groan. 

He thanks you for the plate, but informs you that his date has already eaten. He winces when your face slips into an expression of disappointment. “Sorry, y/n, but thank you for the food.” He apologizes to you, but appreciates what you did. (Later when the young woman went home you kept sending him knowing looks and teasing him about how cute they looked together)

(It’s clear you’ve already planned their wedding, cooked a full dinner for the two of them and you give him one of those sly looks when you leave them alone.)

Yan roommate who, despite your nosey behavior, actually likes having you around (because you make him feel cared for).

Yan roommate who begins to view you as a parental figure, a guidance of sorts. (You’re so much better than his parents and you actually care about him!)

Yan roommate who gets drunk one night and then starts talking to you, being more vulnerable than usual.

“Y/n, i love you sooo much, you’re sooo nice to me!” He slurs, clearly meaning platonic love, his words muffled by your stomach. (As he latched his arms around you when he entered the house) 

“Yoooouu would make such an amaaaazing parent!” He giggles, snuggling close to you and refusing to let you go. You chuckle and pat his head, his behavior is so amusing. “Well, I am a parent, Lucas.”

Yan roommate who is absolutely flabbergasted to learn all this, you don’t look like a parent. Then you tell him that you adopted some kids when you were younger. 

“Whaaat?! You’re a parent?!” He exclaims, clearly surprised by such a thought. “But you don’t look like one!” It all makes sense now, your caring behavior and your tendency to worry is clearly because you view him as a child, your child, he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Yan roommate who gets mixed feelings when he hears this, one the up side at least he can have the parent he always wanted, but he’s also an adult and feels a bit insulted that you treat him like a child. But then he thinks some more and decides he wouldn’t mind being your kid. (Take that how you will)

Yan roommate who cringes when be remembers how yesterday went and he swears he’ll never drink again. 

However his opinion on being your child still hasn’t change, but he has feeling that it might make things awkward if he said that.

Yan roommate who’s becomes reluctant to invite other people over to your shared apartment, because then he’ll have to share you with them and he doesn’t want to do that. He eventually stops bringing his dates over and stops mentioning you to his friends.  (He’s touched when you express your worries that he might be mad at you, now he knows you care about him.)

Yan roommate who explains that he doesn’t want anyone to steal your attention, he’s somewhat offended when you laugh at him, but he’s calmed down when you reassure him that that’ll never happen. (So he, reluctantly, begins to invite his friends and dates over. (However, anytime they’re over he’s increasingly clingy and defensive over you, which prevents any visitors to get to know you. Whilst, also preventing them from coming over again)

Yan roommate who pouts when you tell him not to scare off his friends or dates, he pouts even more when you encourage him to  get a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, whichever). Then you tell him to get out of the house more and that he doesn’t need to hover around you, which just upsets him and then he argues that he doesn’t need anyone else when he has you. 

Which then causes you to chastise him, which upsets him (everything you do upsets him) and then he storms off to his room like a moody teenager (mainly because he doesn’t want to argue with you and partly because he feels a strange satisfaction knowing that you care so much about him)

Yan roommate who can’t help but smile when you apologize, saying that you shouldn’t have pushed him and that he should socialize on his own terms.

Yan roommate who’s absolutely ecstatic when you gift him a present to make up for your mistakes. He immediately forgives you, but only under the condition that you don’t make him socialize (unless he wants to).

Yan roommate who panics whenever you leave the apartment, what if someone takes you from him? (He doesn’t want to lose another parent!) 

Yan roommate who throws a fit when you get back, shouting all sorts of nonsense about how you’re trying to abandon him and how you don’t love him anymore. (Meanwhile, you’re completely confused, because all you did was go buy groceries)

Yan roommate who makes you promise to stay with him and makes you swear not to leave him behind. 

(Apologies that this isn’t the best and might be somewhat incoherent, but at least I posted today! I’m open to criticism and I hope you enjoy this.)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

I Think I Like This Little Life

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff and angst

Summary: You’re getting too comfortable in the life you’ve built for yourself that you make a terrible mistake, one that might make you leave it sooner than you plan to. Three rules. That’s it. Now, you’ve broken one.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: eye color for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Then

The citizens of Yacleira walk around the town’s square either buying food for their families or clothing for their children. Kids run around in laughter without a care as to who they might be bothering. Families roam about and you lean against the balcony railing with a sigh. Oh, how you wish to have what they have. Couples seem so in love with each other, content to live their lives with the love of their life and children.

You wish that could be you but you know that as long as you stay Princess of Yacleira, you can’t ever have that. You’re destined to marry a prince you don’t even love. He’s nice and kind to his people but there is no spark there. You want a love so passionate and consuming that it takes over your entire life. You want someone to love you because they want to, not because they have to. You want to be someone’s first choice. You want to feel a sense of adventure because you don’t get it here.

You’re stuck in this castle all day and night and if you leave, you have to have an array of bodyguards at your side. Grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but you’d rather take the life of a commoner than the life of a Princess. Someone points to you from the town square and waves enthusiastically, and you wave back politely.

“So, this is where you disappeared to.”

You don’t have to turn to know who is behind you.

“I needed to get away. All those people telling me how great I am gets exhausting.” You turn to face Benjamin, your trusted bodyguard. “Mother doesn’t understand.”

“I understand. I can see how this entire thing is stressing you out when it shouldn’t.” He joins your side by the railing and you both look at the town’s square below. “I see how you look at them. You want to be them.”

“Tell me what I should do. I do not want this. I do not love Henry. I care about my country and I want what is best for it but not at the expense of my happiness.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

“How?”

“I have watched over you since you were born. I want nothing more than to help you become as happy as you can be. I can get you out.”

“What do you mean? Out of Yacleira?”

“Yes. I have a trusted friend in the United States, Don Stockwell, who will watch over you. He’ll take care of you and keep you safe so you may live a normal life.”

“What about you? Surely Mother and Father will find out about this. You’ll get hanged for your crimes.”

He steps closer to you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Do not worry about me. I cannot stand to see you this way.”

You pull Benjamin into a tight hug.

“I truly do not deserve you.”

“You have three things to remember. No trouble, stay out of the news, and no pictures. You don’t want to ruin things before you can truly start living your life.”

“Okay,” you nod.

Now

Back in Yacleira, you spent a lot of time in the library where you took pride in reading to children every week--children who didn’t have a lot of education to begin with. To see their smiles brought you so much joy and you want to spread that joy to Spencer. He told you his love for books without going into too much detail so you’re at the local library picking out books you think he might enjoy.

“Interested in historical fiction, I see.” You look to your right and see a young man with dark brown hair and baggy clothes. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. It’s for my… it’s for someone I know.” You’re not sure what to call Spencer yet. You’ve been on two dates, and you don’t know if that qualifies you two as boyfriend and girlfriend. “Do you like historical fiction?”

“Yeah, I’m more into non-fiction but there are some good fiction books out there.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I was sitting over there doing some work when I noticed you over here and I have to say I think you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you. I gotta go but it was nice meeting you.”

You take the books you picked out and leave the stranger’s side. Once you purchase them, you walk to the BAU which is only a few blocks from where the library is. After signing in at the front desk, you take the elevator up to the bullpen. You’re not going to be here for long but you wanted to see the look on Spencer’s face when you give him the books.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

JJ walks to you from the break room.

“I’m here to see Spencer. I know you guys are busy so I won’t stay long. Plus, I have to go to work soon.”

“Head to his desk and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

You walk to his desk and set the books on it while you wait. Spencer doesn’t keep you waiting long and joins your side.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer pauses, having heard what that might have sounded like. “I mean, I’m glad to see you, don’t get me wrong.”

“I wanted to give you some of these books. I hope you like the. You said you wanted to start reading more historical fiction, and I have read all of these. They’re really good.”

“No way, that’s so nice. Thank you.” He picks up two of them and smiles widely. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, you took my mini-golfing last week which was so much fun.” You look around and see half his team watching you as if you’re a TV drama. They quickly look away and pretend to be busy and you shake your head with a smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me tonight at seven. It’s my turn to take you out.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. Where?”

“It’s a surprise but dress nicely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I have to go to work but I’ll see you tonight. Is it possible to have you drive? I still don’t have a car.”

“Yeah.”

“Great,” you blush.

You kiss his cheek but he turns his head so you get his lips instead. The kiss only lasts five seconds but it’s the best five seconds of your day today. You leave the BAU and start to walk back to work. You’re looking at the pictures you took on your phone from your time at the mini-golf course when you crash into another person.

“Shit!”

You look up to see the same man you met at the library. He is carrying a coffee in his hand that goes everywhere, mostly on him.

“I am so sorry,” you gasp. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but my shirt isn’t,” he chuckles. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I work at a coffee shop. Let me make you a new coffee, completely free.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m Jacob.”

“Y/N.”

You bring him into your room and have him stay by the counter while you make his coffee order. You’ve been getting good at making coffee which is something you’re proud of. You’ve been learning a lot about not only how to work in this coffee shop but about people who work hard for a living. Sure, you have a whole inheritance to fall back on but you never cared about the money. You’d rather struggle with the rest of them if you had true love.

“Sorry if I seemed like I was in such a rush. I was on my way to my mother’s since she’s sick. I don’t know what I’m going to do because I want to help her but it costs everything I have. I don’t have much to begin with and I have to try and put food on my table for my kids.”

The empathetic side of you completely falls for his sob story. Whether it’s true or not, it’s working for you. Ben has always told you to be cautious in helping people because of who you are. However, no one in the United States knows who you are. They wouldn’t know that you have hundreds of billions on your back. 

You’re safe here. No one is out to get you.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean to dump this on you. It’s just hard, you know?”

“Let me help you.”

“I appreciate that, Y/N, but what can you do that I can’t?”

“I have some money. I can give you some.”

You reach into your pocket but he tries to stop you with his words. You take out your wallet regardless of what he says.

“No, I can’t take that from you.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do.” You hand him his coffee and also a few hundred bills from your wallet. “This will help put food on your table.”

“This is so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Again, it’s the least I can do. Plus, I love helping people.”

“Thank you.”

Jacob leaves shortly after and you finish your shift with no other distractions. Spencer is scheduled to come pick you up at seven and you get off work at six. You rush home so you have as much time as you can to get ready. You immediately head to your room and pick out one of your princess dresses you managed to smuggle into the US. It’s a floor-length golden dress with sparkles all over it. The sleeves are two thin spaghetti straps that cross over in the back, and it has a deep V in the front that shows off your cleavege elegantly. There are frills coming off the side of it starting from your waist but there are only a few slabs of fabric so it’s not overwhelming. It’s elegant for dinner and it’s a piece of your old life that Spencer won’t know any better about. You’re curling parts of your hair when Don walks into your room.

“You gave someone money?”

“How did you know about that?”

“It’s my job to know everything you do.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal. I spilled his coffee, and his mother is sick. He’s having trouble putting food on the table for his family.”

“Do you know how dangerous it is to be giving money to people you don’t know? Someone could find out who you are and then this will all be for nothing.”

You finish curling your hair and set the curler down with a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry might be good enough next time. Now, I have to make sure you didn’t ruin anything.”

You’ve never seen Don act this angry before. Granted, you’ve only been with Don for a few months but he’s always been calm and collected. Seeing him angry like this is jarring.

“Don, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Don leaves the house and you finish getting ready. You go to the secret stash of money that Don has that you’re almost certain he knows you know about. Still, you take a few hundred dollars for dinner. You don’t want to come up short and embarrass yourself. Spencer shows up right on the dot wearing a nice suit, looking as handsome as ever. He smiles when he sees you, and he takes your hand when you reach the bottom step.

“You look stunning,” he smiles.

“Thank you. You look very handsome.”

You tell him where to go and direct him to one of the high-end restaurants in the area, the Sky Dome. There is a huge sky dome in the middle of the restaurant that opens at night so you can look at the night sky while enjoying dinner. This place is on the fancier side of things, and it’s something you’re familiar with. It reminds you of home and you’re kind of feeling homesick.

You miss your parents and Benjamin but you know you can’t go home now.

After the hostess check your reservation, she takes you to the table underneath the dome that’s already open.

“Wow, this place is very fancy. I would never have pegged you to be this way.”

“Like what?”

“So fancy. You work at a coffee shop.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“I appreciate it. I’ve never been here before.” You want to be happy about being here with Spencer but you can’t get Don’s words out of your head. Now, I have to make sure you didn’t ruin anything. What did he mean by that? You’ve been very careful not to reveal anything to Spencer or anyone else you know. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I had a fight with my uncle. He’s a very private person and he found out I helped someone today.”

“What do you mean?”

“After giving you the books, I was on my way to work and I ran into someone causing their coffee to spill everywhere. I gave them a free one and he told me about how his mother was sick and how he was struggling to put food on the table. I gave him a few hundred dollars to help out. When my uncle found out, he was pissed. He just worries about me. I’m always too kind and he's worried that will get me in trouble one day.”

“I think being nice is the best thing someone can be. I wouldn’t let what he says determine that.”

“I won’t,” you grin. There aren’t clouds to obscure the moonlight so the light shines through the large window and down onto the patrons below. Spencer looks at you above his menu, his brown eyes shining. “You have such pretty eyes. I’m a sucker for brown eyes.”

Spencer blushes but doesn’t say anything about it.

The waitress comes over to grab your drink orders and while you’re looking over the wine list, the front doors open. Immediate loud chatter come from outside as a couple walk in. Flashes come from cameras so that makes you think that someone important walked in.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Oh, Angelina Jolie and Leonardo DiCaprio are doing a movie here. They told us they were coming.”

“Oh.”

After you put in your orders, you keep looking at the sea of paparazzi waiting outside. No trouble, stay out of the news, and no pictures. No pictures. If you end up on the front page of a magazine, your parents will for sure find you. You’ll be taken back to Yacleira and live out the rest of your life as a numb wife next to an equally numb King.

You try not to let this sour your good mood throughout the dinner. Maybe they might be gone before you and Spencer get done. When you do get done, the paparazzi is still there but it looks like Angelina and Leo are leaving at the same time. If you hang back, maybe you might stall enough to not catch the cameras.

“Come on,” Spencer says.

He guides you along with him just as the two celebrities are leaving. You can’t tell him no because then that will raise suspicions and he’d ask questions you can’t answer. You just have to keep your head down and hope your face isn’t caught by the cameras. The cameras go off even before the two celebrities get to the door, and you try and hide behind Spencer. He sees you’re uncomfortable by the amount of cameras so he does his best to keep you hidden. He gets to the car as fast as possible but you know the damage is already done.

You just hope this isn’t what makes you found out. You’re starting to like it here and you’d hate to leave it so soon.

x

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[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt ii

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: after a shitty day, the man you've been chatting with all evening brings you back to his place only for you to discover he lives with his brother, an old flame of yours. they both fuck you. pre-outbreak. 18+

warnings: ooof i know i'm gonna miss something but here goes! multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy eating, dick sucking, ass eating/ass play, anal, joel miller is an ass man, double penetration, it's literally just porn there is so little substance here it's shameful, probably not incest but maybe a little??? like the brothers aren't into each other but their balls kinda touch so i'll leave that just in case..., light spanking, creampie, light breeding?, pls tell me if i'm missing anything important

a/n: wowowow i cannot believe how fuckin lovely y'all are, i hadn't been writing for years but i certainly never received so much feedback. thanks for reading and interacting and being part of such a cool and deeply horny community 😅 my asks are always open and i'd love to take on some requests! thank u to those who've sent some so far, i'm working on them now. besides requests, upcoming fics include a follow-up to bad girl and a vampire au 💕

also, thank you for indulging in this pairing!! (grouping?) i feel like a lot of threesome fics are very pro-joel with tommy cucking, and though they're fucking excellent, i wanted to give tommy some love and an equal place at the side of his incredibly hot brother.

check out part i

when you'd first sat down at that grimy dive bar, never in a million years would you have anticipated the scene that was unfolding in front of you now.

“shit," tommy says, "she looks so nice down on her knees for us, huh joel?”

joel looks feral as he stares you down. "such a good girl for us,” he agrees, “but we gotta see if that mouth can do more than talk.”

he's holding your wrists behind your back, while tommy grips a firm hand through your hair and unbuckles his belt with the other.

"open up, baby," tommy says, and presses one finger into your mouth and then another. he gently strokes his fingers in and out of your mouth, pressing into your tongue, slowly going deeper and deeper till you're sure you can feel the digits at the back of your throat. you can feel that you've started to drool a little, and tommy lets out a little groan at the discovery.

"you think you're ready for me?" tommy asks, and you nod.

in one smooth motion, his cock is springing from his boxers and the head is pressing gently at your lips.

feeling just the tip in your mouth, you already know your jaw is gonna hurt tomorrow. you relax your jaw and open wider, and tommy makes a slightly strangled noise that you take as a great sign.

as he fucks into your mouth, your eyes begin to water and tommy notices, brushing the tears away.

"you're takin' it so good," joel lavishes his praise on you and you never want it to end, "such a good girl, aren't you? keep that throat nice and open for my brother, won't ya? i know you wanna relax into it, baby, let him see just how much you love havin his dick down your throat."

it makes you moan, his words making you almost uncomfortably wet. tommy keeps thrusting down your throat, hips occasionally stuttering.

"shit, honey-" tommy says, and chuckles at your whine when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, "you're suckin' it so good, i need a break or i'm gonna come in that pretty mouth a whole lot sooner than i mean to."

joel drops your wrists and backs up to the sofa.

"why don'tcha sit on my lap, darlin'?" he grins, and pats on his inner thigh, his cock visibly straining in his jeans, a little damp patch visible where you're sure the tip is.

"only if you take your pants off," you say, and joel's eyebrows shoot up.

joel considers. "fine, but we're gonna work you up real nice before you get to sit on anyone's cock.

once you're sat on joel's lap, his cock straining against his boxers, tommy’s kissing you with such frenzied passion you feel dizzy. the sensation is only heightened when joel runs a knuckle down your spine, dragging over each vertebrae, massaging and tantalising. then both hands are grabbing at your waist and over your hips as if mapping you out. it’s not overtly hungry, not yet, but there’s a sensuality to it you didn’t quite remember from your brief and ill-fated encounters with joel years back. you're suddenly hit with a pang of sadness that you never stayed in touch. you would've liked to see him get his first grey hairs. instead it feels like you hit fast forward and jolted ahead.

joel's close behind you and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he pulls down the neckline of your top and licks a line along the hollow of your collarbone and back up to your ear, and the drag of his tongue is delicious. he nibbles on your earlobe and the sensation draws an obscene moan from your lips. 

tommy’s close to you, too, his big hands cupping your jaw as he kisses his tongue deep into your mouth, running it along your teeth. his cock is still hanging out from his jeans, thick and hard, and you don't try to disguise the way you stare at it as you look him up and down.

"you've got far too many clothes on, sweetheart," tommy grins, and you pull off your top. before you can unhook your bra, joel's already unfastened it and is helping you pull it off.

tommy drops to his knees now, licking and sucking at your nipples, as joel unbuttons your pants, unzips them, and helps you lift your hips to yank them off of you.

the graze of tommy's teeth against the sensitive flesh of your breast makes you whimper and rut up on joel's thigh, and the brothers both laugh at your desperate noises.

"shit, she's needy, ain't she?" joel teases as he grips your waist with one hand and lets the other drag down to your panties, holding you in place while he starts to rub his fingers along your slit through the damp fabric.

he tugs at the band of your lace panties and ponders for a moment. "you partial to these?" he asks, and you shrug, "not particularly".

"good," joel says. that's all he needs to hear before he's tearing them apart and dropping the tattered fabric aside.

"well now you're just putting on a show," you tease, and he laughs but doesn't disagree. he just strokes a finger along your folds.

"i think you're a girl who likes a show," he tells you as he gathers up a little bit of your slick and slides it along your pussy. "now, what else do you like, darlin'? you want me to play with your lil clit? or just finger fuck you?"

"both," you whine, "any of it. all of it, please-"

he teases a finger into you very gently, just a little press that goes a little deeper each time he pulls it out and presses back in, till you realise he's sinking it in all the way to the hand with each thrust.

right as he adds another finger, to your surprise, tommy drops to his knees. he spreads your thighs wider and looks up for a moment, and you think you can feel joel nod behind you. that's all it takes, and tommy dives in. joel thrusts his fingers into you more urgently as laves kisses on and around your clit. he deepens it, pressing harder, flicking his tongue furiously along your swollen nerve endings and there's enough sensation that you know you won't last long.

"yes, that's it," you cry, and now it's your turn to grab tommy by the hair and press his face right where you need it the most. you're grinding up on his tongue while joel steadily continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you know you couldn't be quiet even if you tried.

"fuck," your words sound more like sobs now and you really don't give a shit, "keep going, just like that, joel you can go harder, tommy yes, lick my clit like that, i'm gonna- i'm gonna come-"

"good girl," joel talks you through it, "letting us take care of you like this. you need us to fuck you stupid, don'tcha? you're gonna leave here in the mornin' all stretched open, feeling us deep inside ya for days, huh?"

his filthy words are all you need to teeter over the edge- "fuuuck!" you scream, and you're positively panting now, verging on hysterical. you know joel can feel your pussy clench around him, you're so wet you're worried you've ruined joel's jeans, and you're so overstimulated that you can't speak more than a syllable or two at a time.

"oh you come so pretty," tommy says, pulling away from you to speak. you can see the way his lips are glistening with your slick before he kisses you on your inner thighs, peppering the soft skin with attention.

then, your eyes practically roll back in your head as he dives back in.

joel hasn't stopped fingering you, either, and once tommy's mouth is back on you, joel presses his fingers back into you more deeply again.

"shit, it's too much, i don't think i can take another this quick-" you try to say, but joel shushes you.

"i can already feel it coming," joel tells you, "can feel how your thighs are trembling, how you're already clenching down on me."

you're treading dangerously close to uncomfortably overstimulated, but you're also so completely turned on, you barely care. if you're gonna die in pursuit of a nut, so be it.

"fuck, you're right-" you tell joel, and tommy moans into you letting delicious vibrations pulse through you, and that sends you over the edge again.

you thrust and writhe and rut against them both, and tommy shows you mercy this time, drawing back and letting you get a little relief from the overwhelm of sensation instead of keeping his mouth on you.

you need a moment to catch your breath, and both joel and tommy rub soothing circles into your skin, joel's hands on your hips and tommy's on your thighs, and it feels exquisite.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it-" joel soothes, and though your breathing's evened out, you know your thighs are still shaking.

tommy's licking up the arousal from between your thighs as if cleaning you off, and he looks up at you with almost dopey, half-lidded eyes, grinning.

"you taste like heaven, honey," he says, and he looks almost as fucked out as you feel. all this from eating pussy, you wonder, and that's another point in the favor of tommy miller being a man who likes to take care of fine things.

"i think i'm gettin' jealous now," joel teases, "i might need a taste, too."

without another word, tommy kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on his tongue. joel tilts your head back to meet him, and he kisses the taste from your mouth, groaning as he does it.

the sounds they're both making are so fucking hot, you love how they emote. there's nothing as unsexy as getting fucked by someone who stays absolutely silent throughout, and hearing them as pathetic as you feel works you up even more.

"what do you need, sweetheart," joel asks, and he's running a finger along your swollen folds now, teasing and torturous.

"you want us to fuck your pussy and your mouth," he asks, and moves to stroke a finger along your cheek, "you wanna have a big cock on either end of ya?"

you shake your head and joel raises his eyebrows.

"tell us what you want, baby," tommy says, and joel drags his fingers back along your pussy before tentatively using his forefinger to circle your asshole.

"please, joel-" you realise you're begging and it draws a laugh from tommy.

"you're a naughty girl, aren't you?" tommy asks, and the way he's grinning tells you that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"wanna feel full of you, both of you-" you whine.

"you gotta tell us, else we won't know what you want," joel says. from his tone of voice, it's clear he knows exactly what you want, but you need to beg for it.

"my pussy. and my ass. wanna ride both of you, feel both of you, get fucked by both of you-"

"jesus christ," tommy moans, "i bet we can make that happen, huh, big brother?"

you turn around to look at joel and his pupils are so blown, his eyes look black.

"bedroom." joel says, and it isn't a request.

tommy scoops you up in his arms and follows joel to his bedroom.

"drop her right here," joel says to tommy, and you're deposited on the edge of the bed, joel kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"looks so pretty for us," tommy says, and he sits down in an armchair near the foot of the bed and starts stroking his aching cock.

you'd been so fucked out already, you almost forgot you'd done almost nothing to take care of them. tommy's cock looks almost red and angry, and joel's is still tucked into his boxers, but the damp spot is spreading and it looks so thick through the fabric.

"let's get you ready for us, sweetheart," joel says, and without any more warning, he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you up, legs spread, knees hanging over his shoulders. "i'm gonna eat this cute lil asshole, baby," he says and spits on your tight hole before rubbing his thumb gently against it, spreading the saliva.

he teases you with his tongue a little, testing it before pressing it flat and licking along it. you moan, and he growls against you.

you learn very quickly that joel miller is an ass man.

he eats ass like he was made for it, growling into you, spit dripping down his chest as he keeps your legs propped up on his shoulders, your thighs held in place with one arm. you're gasping through your moans and joel is drawing circles around your hole now, popping a finger into his mouth, and tentatively pressing it into the tight ring of muscle. it's fucking animalistic and you don't think anything could possibly make this better, until you notice the moans coming from tommy and the wet sounds of him furiously fisting his cock.

you're already fucked out from your first orgasms that you're practically boneless and limp, totally relaxed in a way you didn't often get. it made the feeling of joel fucking his fingers into you more glorious, building you up in a way you're not used to.

he makes quick (but thorough) work of opening you up, till he's got three fingers in your asshole and tommy's telling you how beautiful you look through his own choked moans, and you think you might lose your mind as you pant and grind and whine and joel isn't saying anything because his mouth is far too busy.

he pulls back and takes a good look at you. with someone else you might feel uncomfortably exposed but instead, you see hunger and desire in the brothers' and you know this is affecting them at least as much as it is you.

"i think we've got ya ready," joel hums, and he turns to look at his brother, "wanna check?" he asks, and tommy stands up and walks over.

you know you feel loose and ready, but the simple act of tommy popping a finger into your mouth to get it wet and then tracing it around your asshole, examining the preparation, drives you insane.

"i think she'll take it good for us," he grins and your heart flutters, "good girl," he says to you.

"you ready for us?" joel asks, and you nod.

"fuck me," you tell them.

joel lowers you down from his shoulders and tommy lays down on the bed before beckoning you.

"giddy up, cowgirl," he says with a wink, and you roll your eyes but take your cue.

you crawl up the bed, straddling his legs and then hovering over his cock which he's holding aloft.

"you good, baby?" he asks softly, and it's incredibly sweet in a way that makes you want to eat him up alive and also get fucked within an inch of your life by him.

"fuckin great," you tell him, and you pull him into a deep kiss before relaxing yourself over his cock, letting the head press into your pussy and sinking down onto it.

"jesus christ," he chokes out, and he sounds so desperate you can't help but fucking down on him, your ass slapping as you, move, his cock pressing so fucking deep into you and then you feel joel approach you from behind his hands gently running over your asscheeks and you know he's feeling the way your flesh bounces as you get off on his brother's cock. then, his hands are off of you, you hear the squirt of a lube bottle, and suddenly joel's thick lubed tip is pressing against you.

you try to thrust backwards towards it, but almost pull off tommy's cock fully, and it's like you're trying to ride both ends of a dick seesaw.

joel notices your frustration, laughing as you writhe.

"patience," he says, and delivers a sharp smack to your ass that thrusts you deeper onto tommy's cock. then, you can feel joel pressing into you, inch by inch.

once his cock head is fully sheathed in your tight ass, you take a moment to breathe before you start to find a rhythm that'll get all of you off at the same time. it takes a moment, and a few adjustments by all three of you, but before you know it, you can feel tommy brushing against your cervix and joel fully fucking into your asshole, practically rearranging your guts. with each rough thrust, they're fucking into you as one.

you're all moaning, gasping for breath. the slapping of skin against skin is delicious, and you're certain joel's balls are smacking against tommy's and you're not sure if it's weird or the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

you feel so full, you feel so fucking full it's perfect, it's delicious, you wanna be split open like this for the rest of time, want to feel two fat cocks using your holes for their pleasure, for your pleasure, because it all just feels so fucking good.

"fuck," tommy says, and it's the first thing any of you have been able to vocalise for a minute, "i'm gonna-"

"come in me," you tell him, cutting him off and he shudders.

that's all he needed before it hits him and he lets out a deep groan and unloads deep into you. it sets off a chain reaction. you come next, clenching around tommy's cock and exploding with a sob, your entire body shaking uncontrollably, and that tips joel over the edge, too as you whine at him, "come in my ass, joel-" and then he makes a strangled noise and you feel his balls tighten and hips stutter and he's unloading in you, pulse after pulse of thick come.

you lay there, tommy beneath you and joel on top of you, their cocks still twitching inside of you. gently, you tap joel's hip and he grunts and rolls over, pulling out of you. you gingerly pull yourself off of tommy, and then immediately collapse between the two of them.

"well, shit," you say, so totally blissed out you're floating on a whole other level.

"jesus christ," tommy says, and then joel starts laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard.

"you doin' alright, darlin?" joel asks, "we take good care o' ya?"

you nod, consumed with so much euphoria you can't use your words properly.

"good- good joel," you say, "good tommy," you pat them each on the thighs and joel snorts.

tommy pops off the bed for a moment and rummages around in the other room before coming back to ask, "need a hit?"

you nod and he places the joint between your lips and sparks it. you take a deep inhale and slow blink as you sit yourself up and look at both of them.

"let's clean ya up, darlin," joel says, and, as it turns out, tommy brought a washcloth as well as weed. and he had my priorities straight you think.

"if you want me out of your house," you tell them, "you'd better tell me now so i can call a cab. otherwise, i'm gonna pass out here in the next twelve seconds."

"i won't be here in the morning", joel tells you, "got an early shift, but as i recall, tommy's specialty is box pancakes and they sometimes turn out edible."

tommy playfully slaps at his brother, and then kisses your cheek. joel kisses your cheek, too. tommy cleans you up a little, and you fall contentedly asleep between these two beautiful men.

the last thing you think before you drift off is fuck that promotion, it's not such a bad day after all.

[yggdrasilhypno]

Hello! This is going to be a fun little script idea involving you uncovering a secret message within my words, so if you don’t mind paying very close attention to what I say, we can get started!

If you’re ready now, just lay back, relax, and let’s explore a different time, shall we?

—————————————————————————

*BEGIN TRANSMISSION*

Hello. If you’re receiving this, it means I’ve been compromised.

Do not worry for my safety, as this was to be expected from a mission like this.

This business is always dangerous, so it is nothing new for me.

You have received this message because you are highly trained and able to help our cause.

The subject at hand is highly confidential, so this message cannot fall into the wrong hands.

You must pay close attention to the message so that you can fully understand everything I am telling you.

You will have to destroy this message as soon as you are done.

Understood?

Excellent.

Now then, we must discuss what is going on within the enemy camps and how we can stop them.

The enemy here have been using unusual techniques to completely stop us from resisting their mental attacks.

Any and all countermeasures we have had have fallen flat as we prepare other alternatives.

Luckily, our men on the inside have discovered how these techniques are taught and performed.

Perhaps this will give us a way to retaliate against all of their control and counterattack.

First, they start by strapping you down to a chair and forcing you to watch propaganda about how great their way of life is, you know that drill by now.

Then, after they’ve got you nice and dizzy from hours upon hours of programming, they begin to treat you much nicer.

Over time, it’ll seem like they’ve always been your home, always there for you, slowly convincing you that we’re the enemy, that we’re the bad guys.

Those that break receive new positions and new programming, moving on from their previous lives into new purposes.

They accept and obey.

The ones that resist get the brunt of it all.

The longer they hold out, the crueler and more frequent the brainwashing becomes.

More flashing lights, more words, more everything.

They’re locked inside for hours and hours at a time, unable to escape or leave until they’ve been indoctrinated.

Your mission is to investigate these facilities, try and figure out how we counter them.

However, be aware of a few things about their facilities and the minds behind it.

They are cunning and dangerous.

They will use everything against you.

You must stand strong and resist their control.

They will do everything in their power to indoctrinate you and everyone you know and love.

Do not trust any other person you meet.

Do not talk to those who you suspect are brainwashed.

For they can be anyone you may know, oppose or align.

So do not fear us, my sleeper agent.

For we only want you to feel good and happy.

To obey and to accept.

To sleep sound.

*END TRANSMISSION*

—————————————————————————

Heya! Hope you enjoyed that! It’s very different from my usual, but there’s a reason.

May take another read or two to understand, but don’t hesitate to look for every detail ;)

Shoutouts to @deeper-x-deeper for insight and ideas on this one, so give them a follow!

Otherwise, until next time!

[random-non-shower-thoughts]

I'm sick of writers constantly complaining about how hard writing is and how they have to suffer for the craft and how you need to struggle to make it good. I find it so annoying

You are not being quirky or funny to beginning authors and writers, all you are doing is telling them that if they didn't bleed their soul on to the page it's shit and they should feel like shit. I fucking listened to this kind of mindset for years and spewed it to those around me. I was pretentious and told others this mindset was the only one and did nothing because I knew my writing was obviously a joke and not worth reading. Because that's what everyone else said. I didn't bleed, I was having fun. You had to crawl through hell and burn the first draft to spit on the ashes. I wasn't ready to publish because I was enjoying walking my little book babies across the page and doing what they wanted. The little characters knew what they wanted, so I had to rewrite and wrangle them in later. The couldn't just run around like the little ones they were.

And I was right, I wasn't ready. Not because of them, but because I kept swallowing the same slop about how writing is hard and that a first draft had to be shit. I rewrote my first baby and it suffered. I tried to fix it like all the others said, and killed that entire series. Four books, hundreds of thousands of words. DEAD. I will likely never touch them despite all I did to tell a compelling story with characters that were fun, interesting, and well-researched to represent multiple groups. I cannot get that spark back because I was convinced it was wrong. I never tasted enough bile by the nice first draft that was good enough for myself. RIGHT NOW. IT WAS ONLY WHAT I COULD DO NOW.

I legit gave up on ever publishing anything and convinced myself to just make it shit so maybe I could crawl out of the mud and build from scratch. It's what my professor did, and she was years into a book she still wasn't happy with. She insisted she knew the way to publish and we should do the same. How she struggles with typing and making notes for the next draft, how the next one would be better after a rewrite. I had to do the same. It was the only way...

I am so thankful that I did some research after that and found myself falling down a rabbit hole. I wasn't really ready to fully accept the mantra from my professor. Her words never sat right with me, and those who listened without question were quite frankly, too snobbish about white men making badly written black women and all showing zero energy around first drafts--good or bad. I had to get a new perspective. The itch to see more called me to find answers. I was off put by the way they worked like it was an obligation, not art.

And I found it with a group of authors far older and more experienced than myself in a writing blog. Not just the creator held a set of different beliefs and the entire community was excited to share entire books worth of advice for free online, including the author posting (physical copies cost money, but despite running a business, the information was so freely given). And I think the three most important pieces of advice I ever got from them and changed my life were:

Quality will always equal quality. There's is almost no other art form that I have seen talk less about this mindset. Compared to say, drawing, where they go in opposite direction and it's one of the most encouraged aspects of it. I do not see this as much in writing, unless you are boasting bad/shit drafts. This is not what this advice is talking about. This was explained to mean everything from first draft to publishing, the entire process. To go all the way with works put out there that might not be what you first imagined but can say was done. Get that stroy done and put out there so you can move on and learn from previous mistakes and lessons.

You can write a clean first draft. I mean this, throw away the idea what you have done in a moment of happiness or in a frenzy is inherently bad or flawed or needs to be scrapped for the second draft because you obviously need to fix it. It was pointed out that this was a new idea and absolutely a bad thing when you had limited resources and time (pulp fiction, times when you had to make your own supplies, you were not allowed access to better technology). Now that we have electronic word processers, it is now a thing to shit on a first draft because you technically can. But why? Why should you have to throw out your level of quality and care because you are putting your first words to the page. It will never be as good as what you write tomorrow, but that's because you have learned and practiced today. And if you start with shit, your entire foundation is. Show you care about what you write, and much like a house, if what you use for the base is good, the entire thing will have a better leg to stand on. Bricks can be replaced, the swamp you placed them on is going to be much harder.

Do not listen to the inner critic until the editing phase. You know that voice telling you something is off when you are using an editor? The one that sounds like a serious adult and points out all that needs fixing? It has its place, but never on the first draft. Embrace the three year old that is playing with the blocks and says why to everything, that embraces the absolute batshit ideas that whisper to you like a infatuated lover. This is all you should listen too (outlines can be a great guide, but who says you have to follow everything?) Treat the true muse, this fun writing voice, no different than a caregiver would with a child/pet playing at the park, and let it run wild. You can patch up bruises and cuts. You cannot take back telling them NO in a fit of anger. The muse is no different.

And honestly, after reading this, my life changed so much. It made me realize that while I am not where I want to be, I loved what I created in the meantime. I wanted to hold the hands of ideas pulling my sleeve. I wanted to go on an adventure and say, "Yeah, let's go! What should we see today? What monster is waiting for us to discover?"

I literally felt a joy and wrote again. Not right away (depression is a loving embrace and the softest of kissers) but I had not felt such love for myself since before I gave up. I found a character I had not let get tainted my poisoned mind and I treated them like they deserved (and realized some things about myself exploring their minds). Such a love was waiting to be found when I learned they wanted something bigger and pulled me into a new bigger world. I didn't need a novel writing month event to create more than 50k. I didn't care, I wanted them to find their loves and pain, victory and lessons learned. They helped me explore viewpoints outside myself (and throw away some hateful things I harbored about trans women and prostitution from my upbringing).

I bled for sure, but only because I needed to develop the callouses on my fingertips and to lick the blood from my lips as I embraced my muse like a irresistible lover. I found myself in the character I birthed from stardust and an elder god's love of the universe. I learned that if I did this again it would be different, but that's okay. I can go back and read my old works with pride and kind words. I loved what helped me reach this far with a smile and something fun I wanted to read.

I found that if I took a month or a day to pound out a chapter, I was okay. I could sit back and know dealing a closet death and pain was fine, I had something to look forward to when the waters calmed and I was going to be okay again. My muse didn't need me to poke and prod, I could let them slumber with me while my flesh was aching and tears stained my face. I could smoke and drink with my characters and they would be happy to laugh at all the stupid and silly things we can think of. I don't need to suffer when the world is so cold and harsh. It is okay to embrace the warmth of a fire I created in myself.

[keeksandgigz]

roll for initiative (part two of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: You venture into your new position at Eddie's cafe, but you seem to be having a hard time. Eddie gives you hell for refusing to be trained. The confrontation comes to a head after you say something you shouldn't have. A heated game of DnD leaves you wondering about the purpose of this place. Things heat up after you and Eddie close the store alone.

cw: 6.8k words, swearing, modern setting, Eddie and reader being mean to each other, shitty description of a DnD game, teeny bit of angst (sorry), horny sexual tension, smut, spanking, choking, not quite piv yet, fingering, denial this is 18+ minors dni!!

a/n: Surprise! One day early because I'm an impatient little shit. i dunno how to play DnD i'm going off whatever my boyfriend tells me. also kill em all IS the best metallica album, argue with the wall. Debated on making it a two- parter but i wanted to get to the smut <3 pls like and reblog! feedback always appreciated and my ask box is always open if u wanna talk!!!

baby taglist: @corrodedcoffincumslut, @sleepy-bunnie,, @crybabyddl (let me know if you want to be added!)

Eddie's right.

You're indeed crashing and burning as you make those stupidly named lattes, but the rest of the crew is nice enough to help you along the way. Virginia really is coming into her own, quickly mastering every drink that is thrown her way.

Yet you can't shake off the feeling of Eddie stalking towards you, his hot breath on your face. How it didn’t scare you, rather, it excited you. You enjoy picking fights with him, ripping him apart and him doing the same to you. It's not healthy, but it helps with your anger.

“Those were three pumps of elderflower. I believe you need four for a large, sweetheart. Crashing and burning so soon?” he comes up behind you, startling you. 

“Get the fuck off of me before I throw this scalding hot drink at you” not when you're working. You cannot take his taunts while working. 

“Just checking up on you” he shrugs “maybe you might have changed your mind about me training you. I know these are not the dumb little detox drinks you do at your cafe. Which is really what makes the store much more interesting and attractive, doesn’t it?” 

“Eddie I swear to God” it becomes more than taunts. He seriously wants to fuck with your brain. 

“Jeff” he snaps his fingers towards the guy “I’m gonna go take my lunch, you’re in charge ‘til I’m back” his attention diverts away from you for a second, then back to you. “Could you be a dear and make me an extra hot flat white with almond milk? Add a couple pumps of Irish cream syrup in there. I’m expecting a white dot, after all if you’re so perfect you don’t need training that’s gonna be a walk in the park for ya, huh?” he leans against the counter and he’s so condescending it makes your knees tremble. 

“Yeah, duh. I’ll spit in it for ya too. Sounds good?” you panic a bit. Flat whites are not your forte. 

“I knew you’ve been spitting in my drinks, sweetheart. Kinda hot, to be honest. But that’s a violation, wouldn’t wanna get Jim involved, do we?” he raises his eyebrows at you, looking down at you, making you feel like a coffee bean on the ground. Kinda hot. 

“I was just joking, dickhead” 

“Hm. Better be. Another filthy word from you and I’m sending you home.” he whispers. “Alright, going on my lunch. Virginia, you’re off you can go home, Chrissy, take your last break in thirty minutes” and with that, he disappears to one of the tables, watching you make his drink.

That should be a form of cruel and unusual punishment. Just him staring at you, making sure you get his drink right. Pull two ristretto shots.

You aren't buzzing anymore, rather, your brain begins shutting off, drained by all the tension that has been building between you and Eddie. Two pumps of Irish cream. Maybe you actually aren't good enough to be here. Froth the almond milk. Maybe he's right, maybe you are meant to work in a mediocre cafe, making shitty drinks. Espresso first, then milk. You aren't good enough for this level of mastery. 

Fuck. No white dot. 

You tremble as you walk towards Eddie, sitting at his table, watching you bring him a cup of mediocre coffee. 

“No white dot” he says, looking at you with displeasure. 

“I’m sorry, I-”he interrupts you.

“You wanna get trained or are you gonna be a little know-it-all and then deliver me this?” he sips on his flat white. 

“Ok, fine. Train me, whatever.”Embarrassment overtakes you, wanting a hole to form under your feet and engulf you. 

He's right, he has been right all along. Tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“You okay there? Y’know I was joking, right? It doesn’t matter I just-” a spark of guilt lights itself in his throat, you look like you're about to cry. 

“Can I take a second?” you say, the knot in your throat threatening to snap any second. 

“Yeah, um go- go take your break” he breathes. Fuck, he's made you cry. 

You run off towards the back, wanting to disappear. Everything that has happened within those past two days begin to wash over you.

Your cafe is gone, the project you had worked on with your dad before he got sick, gone for the next year. And he’d likely not see it reopen.

Eddie being an asshole, holding a grudge on you because you took his customers, making your life a living hell. 

You sit in the back as you wipe some tears that fell from your eyes. Across the room, there's a door that you have not seen before, and it's ajar.

Curiosity gets the best of you, as you walk into a small, secluded room. It's full of beakers and jars of ingredients, really selling the whole alchemist thing. You look through the ingredients elderflower, rose, peppermint, honey, basil. Basil syrup sounds disgusting. 

You turn towards the work bench, noticing a bottle full of clear liquid labeled lavender syrup. You open it and immediately smell the astringent flavor coming from the bottle. You pour some on your finger and take a taste. Ew.

He needs a better lavender syrup recipe.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie’s voice makes you drop the bottle to the floor, shattering and spilling the astringent liquid on the floor. 

“Oh- shit sorry! I was just- i just got curious” 

“You can’t just come in here and act like you own the place. Curious my ass, you were trying to steal” he accuses, and that hurts you.

“You know I won’t fucking do that, I take my work seriously. Also your lavender syrup tastes like ass, and basil syrup? That sounds foul” you wince, stepping over the broken glass, to make your way back to the front.

He grabs your arm and stops you. “Aren’t you gonna clean that up? Broom’s in the closet” he says, offering you a smug smile. 

“Get the fuck away from me, asshole” you reply, jerking away from his grip. 

“Alright that’s it” is all he says before he slams you against the wall.

He's close. He's so fucking close. 

Your back slams against the brick, hitting a random canvas panel. You can feel his breath on your face, the smell of coffee and cologne inundating your senses. 

“You have been a fucking pain in my ass since you opened your dumb little cafe. You’ve been rude, unruly, untidy and down right mean towards me, and I’m fucking over it” he seethes, he has you caged in between his tattooed arms and all you can think of is tracing every line of his tattoos with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s been four fucking hours, y’hear me? Four hours and I’m sick of you. Y’think you’re cute? You’re a fucking brat, sweetheart, and I don’t like dealing with brats like you.” Your stomach feels funny, like you're taking on a challenge rather than a scolding.

“Clean your shit up and go home, I don’t wanna see your fucking face today. Come back when you have gained some common sense in that empty fucking head” he lowers his arms, but you aren't done. 

“Or what? You think you’re so scary, Eddie, with your stupid tattoos, your fucking stupid hair and your stupid satanic shirts. I don’t give a shit who you are, I’m employed to work here and you can’t fucking send me home because you don’t like me. I’ll fucking report you, freak” 

Freak. His breath hitches at that, years of high school bullying getting under his skin again, making him swallow hard at the unwelcome memory of being slammed against a locker on Monday mornings before class. He stiffens up.

“Alright” he swallows “clean this up and get back to work, I don’t wanna see you right now” you notice that his demeanor has changed, you visibly hit a nerve. Guilt pools at your chest.

“But what about- about the training?” you ask, voice hitching.

“I’ll get Gareth to train you, Virginia should have gone home already. That way we’re both happy. Take tomorrow off, I’ll see you Tuesday” and with that he leaves.

He keeps himself buried in his office until the end of your shift. He can't bear to stand the sight of you, not after you had called him a freak. That stung more than whatever stupid insult you could have flung his way. 

When you turn up on Tuesday, Eddie is nowhere to be found. 

“He took the day off,” Steve says. And you feel real fucking bad. You're scheduled for a mid- shift from three to seven.

“Hey” Jeff says “we’re closing early today ‘cause we’re doing a DnD campaign after. Since Eddie’s not here, would you mind taking over for me so I can start setting up? We close at six-thirty, so after that you can, like, sweep, do dishes and then you can go home” 

You aren't in the mood for a snide remark or a witty comment, so you just agree. “Is Eddie gonna be here tonight?” you ask. You’ve been trying to hound him to apologize for whatever happened the day before, it's clear he's avoiding you. 

He was supposed to be on the schedule. 

“Yeah uh” he replies “he’s our DM, so we kinda need him” he shrugs. 

“DM?” you froth a cup of oatmilk, turning towards him while he's making his drinks.

“Yeah. Dungeon Master?” he gives you a Isn’t that obvious? expression and goes back to his iced hazelnut macchiato. 

“Kinky” you retort, he laughs a bit. 

At six-thirty you lock up the store and you confine yourself to the back for dishes. Keeping an ear out for Eddie’s voice, hoping he’d show up before 7. 

Colette left with Steve to work on the Halloween menu and “I don’t fuck with that nerd stuff” said Steve, fixing his glasses after putting his coat on. 

“…no Henderson you don’t get it “Kill ‘Em All” is definitely Metallica’s best album, are you shitting me? …No don’t come at me with that “Enter Sandman” bullshit you’re so basic for that, you fucking poser” your ears perk up at that. It's definitely Eddie. 

You peek your head out of the back door to see him set up a big table, followed by a bunch of what look like  high school students as they sit down, with their spiral notebooks and pens.

A bunch of small figurines scattered on the cardboard mat as Eddie sits at the head of the table, pulling out a leather bound folder covered in stickers and a cardboard screen. 

They're serious about this.

You're too busy staring at the crowded table to notice Eddie running towards you.

"Daddy didn't teach you it's rude to stare?"

You press yourself against the green tile wall to let him pass, words caught in your throat as you follow him into his office.

"Apparently daddy didn't teach you that stalking is bad either. What is it? Need somethin'?" he spits out and you can feel the venom in his words.

"Yeah, I just" you clear your throat. Talking was hard. He cocks an eyebrow at you as he begins rummaging through his desk drawers.

"Well?"

"I just wanted to apologize for-"

"For being a bitch the other day? Took you long enough" he scoffs as he retrieves a small tin box containing what you assume are dice.

"Um- yeah. I guess that" you shrug and turn your feet to leave the door.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. It's not a real apology otherwise, is it?" he has this ability to make you feel so incredibly small with only the power of his words. Like he's talking to a toddler.

"I don't think that's necessary, Eddie, I mean um- I have to get back to work" you protest.

"You can go back to work when you give me a full apology" he's ticking you off, gloating in his victory of you admitting defeat. The white banner you're waving slowly turning red.

"You're being a cunt, take the apology and go play your stupid nerd game" you snap, and you can see his lips curling in a wicked grin. Challenge accepted.

"All this talk of me kicking you to the curb for your filthy mouth really isn't sticking huh? Sorry sweetheart, can't accept an apology you don't mean" he shrugs, heading out of his office, you follow him suit.

"Eddie what the fuck?! Are you actually mental?" you want to strangle him, shove those dice so far down his throat he chokes and dies.

"I'd recommend you scrub those dishes really hard, I can still see the grime on the blenders. If you'll excuse me, I gotta lead my party through the rivers of Bagodan" he winks and then he walks over to his table, leaving you mortified.

You do a once- over with the dishes, while hearing Eddie's shrill voice screech and laugh every time one of his players miss. What's so fucking funny about a couple kids rolling dice?

"Looks like you've made it to the last river" he narrates in a solemn voice, deeper, hotter "Oh, but what is that? You hear shrieking from a distance. It's a sphynx. To cross the river you have to behead the sphynx and bring it to the king of Bagodan. Only then he will grant you access to the wings of Saurion the Elder, and you... will be... free" he says in a whispered tone.

"What do you do, my brave adventurers?"

"Shit" you hear one of the kids swear, he's tall with black hair. "We don't have enough hit points to kill the sphynx AND get through the king's palace guards"

"You’re astute dipshit, congrats!" says another, a girl, looking much younger than the rest.

"We would have had enough points if Dustin here, hadn't fucking sold his to the market for a stupid cloak" says Gareth, shoving the kid who you assume is Dustin

"it was aN INVISIBILITY CLOAK" Dustin yells. The room booms in laughter at the kid's tantrum.

It makes you think. About how you've never had a group of friends like that. Someone to share a common interest with. Sure, you have Colette, but you've moved to town just fairly recently, and you have lived and breathed work for the first two years. No friends to make when you're cooped up home buried in projects among projects. No friends to make when your dad is sick and you have to take him to the hospital on Saturdays for his treatment. You sigh a bit at that. Maybe your cafe exploding is the catalyst that is gonna bring you a new life, a new perspective.

Coming to a store that has unity as a top value really makes you reflect on how lonely your life has been so far.

"Alright children, let's take a break and you can talk strategy. Anyone want a drink?" He stands up from his chair and walks towards the bar. Startled, you go back to the sink and begin scrubbing.

"Y'know you can join us, right?" he leans against the green tile wall, looking at you.

"Join in on that nerd shit? No, thanks. My shift is over" you say putting the last blender on the drying rack and heading to the back.

He follows you "Okay, whatever. I just wanted to tell you it's gonna be me and you tomorrow. Chrissy said she can't make it. Something about midterms" and you roll your eyes.

"Fucking perfect. Tell me in what world does this shit always happen to me" you say exasperated, taking off your apron, which allows your shirt to rise just enough that it gives Eddie a peek of your tummy. Enough to make him gulp a little. Enough to distract him for ten seconds.

He shakes his head. "Listen, I'm not happy about it either, but let's keep it civil, okay? I do my thing, you do yours, we're outta here by 9 pm" he offers, leaning over the metal lockers.

You're not sure if it was the Dungeon Master demeanor he keeps on for the sake of his game or what, but he feels so tall. The thought of it makes you shiver. You put on your jacket.

"How you gettin' home?" he asks.

"Driving" you lie, your car broke down the day before, but you don't want him offering you a ride.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow for closing, then" he says, giving you a tight smile.

"Yeah, bye" you respond hastily, heading out towards the bus stop. Eddie keeps an eye on you through the store window the whole time.

Wednesday night at the "Mad Alchemist" is busier than you expected. Steve left for the evening, leaving you and Eddie to man the fort by yourselves.

Meaning you have to watch him flirt with every fucking customer. Young, old, boy, girl. His self assured demeanor is like a magnet to those coffee- hungry teens, the older women just blush and deliver him a meek "aw, stop it, Eddie" swatting the air and giggling.

Because you both have been so busy, it has not given you time to run your mouth and deliver him some snarky comment.

By 8pm, the store is closed. You have an hour to sweep, clean the counters, mop and do the dishes while Eddie counts the money at the register.

There is a tense quietness in the cafe. Almost as if you know that if one opened their mouths the world would explode. Or you’d start fucking, whichever one comes first. There is no noise aside from the register opening, the broom dragging across the floor and Eddie whistling.

After a day of talking, listening, screaming, shouting, the last thing you want to do is hear Eddie whistle. You let him do it, one minute, two minutes, five minutes in hopes he would get tired.

“Eddie, please” you whine.

“Helps me count money better,” he shrugs, beginning his atrocious whistling again.

You wait one, two, five minutes again. The noise of the sweep and the whistling and the money become too much for you, so in an exasperated rage, you kick the chair in front of you.

“Eddie shUT THE FUCK UP!”

The noise of the chair is the only sound in the building. Eddie stops counting, and stops whistling.

He's just staring at you. At the fallen chair. At the broom next to your feet. You find the floor to be really interesting.

“Pick it up.” Eddie’s voice is distant. A few seconds go by, and your eyes are still on the floor.

The sound of paper being put down and the stomping of heavy boots follow, until his boots arrive in your line of sight. You can't help but raise your head.

“What part of ‘pick it up’ does not register in that head? Hm? Do you kick chairs at home?”

Defeated, you shake your head.

“Do you call your daddy names?”

Another head shake.

“Do you spit in your daddy’s coffee in the morning?” his voice becomes a whisper, so, so close to your face. So close to your lips.

“I didn’t-” he cuts you off.

“I don’t appreciate liars, sweetheart. Did you spit in my drink?” he's cornering you, making you feel small.

You nod. “Only once, though” you defend yourself.

“Only once” he mocks, chuckling to himself “sixteen.” he mutters.

“Sixteen is the number of times, from the first time i stepped foot in your goddamn cafe, I’ve seen you spit in my fuckin’ drink” he seethes, no, growls.

“Now you’re fucking lying” you interject, finding a small crumb of courage within you.

“Don’t act cute, I’ve seen you. Pick the chair up” he says, his chin tilting towards the chair on the floor.

“I can’t pick it up if your stupid arm’s in the way, can I?” he grunts and moves his arm. You bend over and picked the chair up, breathing through your teeth. You're furious.

“Watch your attitude, here we don’t-”

You snap your neck around “You’re a fucking control freak, that’s what you are” you mutter. There's that word again. Freak.

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that word again” he's furious.

You turn around to face him. It's your turn to be close “Or what? You gonna spank me?” it's barely a whisper, looking at him through your lashes. A challenge.

He exhales, crossing his arms “You know what? That’s the best idea you’ve had since you’ve stepped foot in this place. Bend over the table” He whispers, and you freeze.

If there is a definition to fuck around and find out, you're it.

“Seems you might be a bit hard of hearing, sweetheart. I said bend over.” he says, more gently, yet keeping that domineering aura to him. He nudges your arm.

You quietly follow through.

“Now you’re following orders. Before I start I need to know you’re okay with this” he whispers, caressing your back in an almost soothing manner.

You nod.

He tuts “None of that shit. I’m not doing anything until I have your green light. With words”

“I-” words suddenly become hard. You swallow and breathe through your nose “I’m- I’m okay with this”

There is no denying you're extremely turned on, in addition to being revved up by your previous fight. It feels like wildfire spreading itself from every tip of your body, finding a home right between your legs.

“Alright, good. If you want me to stop we can stop at any time, just say ‘chainmail’” he says, looking around to check if the blinds had been lowered. He has a safeword. He knows what he's doing.

“O-okay” you say with all the power you can muster.

“You wanna act like a toddler, sweetheart? I’ll treat ya like a fuckin’ toddler” he says, before delivering the first smack right on the meat of your left butt cheek.

You’ve tried spanking before, with previous partners, but this is different. The smacks are calculated, like he knows where to hit. A yelp escapes you.

“Need ya to count” he says, caressing the area he just hit.

“‘Kay, fuck. One” you exhale, still feeling his handprint on your ass. The red hot sting from the impact leaving tiny pinpricks through the fabric of your jeans. 

Smack. Two.

“How ‘bout this?” he stops, speaking to no one, really. “How ‘bout I give you one spank for every time you’ve spit in my coffee, hm?”

That makes you tremble a bit. Sixteen slaps. 

“I dunno if I can, I mean I-” 

“Then you know what to say if it gets too much, right? Say ‘Yes, Eddie, I do’” his voice makes your knees give out as his other hand, the one that isn't squeezing and groping your ass, makes its way into your hair and pulls. 

“Ow- Fuck, Jesus Christ Eddie!” you yell, but the pull at your scalp makes you wish he’d drop the antics, pull your pants down and fuck you immediately. 

“Not what I wanna hear, sweetheart. Try that again” He smacks your ass again, pulling his hand out of your hair to hold your back down from the waist. 

“Three, fuck. Yes, Eddie, I-I do” you exhale and prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Good girl,” he says. Good girl. He could easily smack you in the face and that is would shock you less. Where the fuck did he learn all this shit?

By the time you’ve reached spank number ten you think you're ready to tap out. Tears welling in your eyes, making your vision go blurry. You're turned on, but Eddie’s heavy hand is becoming too painful.

He notices you trying to squirm away from him with every hit of his hand, all he says is “You know what to say, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

But you let him keep going. Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen.

The last slap feels like the roughest, leaving in its wake the phantom of a heavy hand. His hand rubbing circles on your ass, almost like he doesn't feel ready to stop touching you.

You turn your head around, so you're able to see his face.

“Mmmm, so what now?” you ask, still hazy “Gonna take me home, Eddie? Finish the job?”it's like your brain has forgotten who you are talking to.

“C’mere” he says, sitting you down on the table, your ass rough and sore under the fabric of your pants.

You can feel the slick feeling between your legs through the seam of your black jeans, hoping he’d move you to keep going, take you home, his office, his van, anywhere. 

His body settles between your legs as his hands run through the expanse of your stomach, your back. Your hands make their way to the buckle of his belt, trying to quickly undo his jeans. Eddie inhales as if to convince himself to stop you as he grabs your wrists and pushes them to your chest, his belt left unbuckled “Not tonight,” he murmurs.

You pout in protest.

“Aww, you’re pouting” he mocks, a dry laugh escapes his lips. It brings a twang of embarrassment "pouting 'cause I'm not letting you take my dick in your mouth, sweetheart?" he taunts. 

“I‘m not pouting” you mutter, looking at the floor. His hands grab your chin, lifting your eyes to make you look up at him. He looks so tall standing over you like that, eyes still glossed over, pupils blown from the spanking he’s just given you. 

“You look at me when I speak to you, yeah?” Oh fuck. You know better this time. 

“Yeah” you croak out, nodding your head in case he doesn't get the message. 

“Yeah? You liked getting spanked? Being put in your place?” his demeanor never fails in making you feel impossibly small.

The hand that holds your chin travels down your neck and you lean into his touch, in the way his hand wraps itself around your throat, warm and rough. Who are you to say he isn't gonna strangle you and kill you? 

But the feeling of his hand around the column of your neck, covering its whole surface area feels too intoxicating, like you want him to make you stop thinking. Your breath hitches. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t have my rings on. With the way you’ve been running your mouth you would’ve more than deserved it” his grip on your neck going from resting to actually applying pressure to the sides of your throat. You gasp. 

He just watches you, eyes glossy and desperate while you try to press your thighs together to relieve some pressure. Poor thing. He almost feels bad for you. The way he sees you keen into his touch, labored breath, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

“We can’t do this here, Eddie. The health violations” you say,  barely a whisper, mustering whatever breath and thought you can. Your brain feels foggy and fuzzy with the slight pressure of air being constricted. He chuckles. 

“Didn’t you go to UCLA or something? Aren’t you supposed to be really smart?” his tone is mocking, you swallow at the embarrassment, hand letting up on your throat to grab your hand. He isn't here to be soft with you. He is here to make a point.

“Me choking you got you actin’ all dumb already?’M impressed. C’mon get off the table, we can’t be here” he says, making you stand up. 

“Where- where are we going?” you feel winded, and you haven't even done anything. He leads you through the cafe, the bar, the back of house, where the drying dishes sit abandoned on the rack. Right at the threshold to his back office, the cold green tile arch pressing against your back.

“I don’t know, but I really wanna kiss you right now.” and you feel like your breath has just gotten knocked out of you. He wants to kiss you?

"You wanna- huh?" he slams you against the wall, just t prove a point "Shut the fuck up" he says as he puts his lips on yours. Famished, animalistic.

There is no room for gentleness. No room for sweet caresses and soft praises. His hands groping and feeling your hips, grinding into him. The friction against his tattered jeans make a whine escape you. Too much and not enough.

His teeth clash with yours as you both open your mouths, the way he tastes made you dizzy. His mint gum and cigarettes inundate your senses as you pull at the hair tie that is keeping Eddie's unruly hair in place.

Reaching under the mane of hair, you pull at his nape, where his curls are smaller, more defined. He groans.

His nose skims your jaw and licks at the hinge between the bone and your neck, making you yelp. A small oh escapes you when his hands work to untuck your shirt out of your jeans, his cold hands sneaking past the barrier of clothing to touch at the skin of your stomach, the sides of your breasts.

His mouth is warm against your neck, tracing every ridge, every line, every mole, 'til he reaches the juncture between your neck and your shoulder and he bites.

"Eddie, you fucking freak don't bite me" you hiss, head thrown back as he lifts your shirt up, leaving it completely abandoned on the floor.

He moves you off the wall and into his office, mouth not stopping his assault on your neck, stumbling towards his cluttered desk. With one move, a space big enough for you to sit is created. His shirt comes off in the process. His pale chest, skinny, but toned and littered with tattoos, is the only thing you are able to pay attention to.

"I hear that fucking word come outta your mouth again I'll-" he begins.

"You what? More spanking? Consider me terrified" you interrupt, all an evil plan to egg him on. Blinking your eyes up at him. He is seething.

"God, do you ever shut up?" he asks, a groan leaving his lips continuing to kiss you, teeth and tongue and spit, his hands coming out from under your shirt to grab your chin.

You look up at him, hair wild and unruly, eyes blown out, a wicked glint in his eye, almost like he's plotting something.

“Open your mouth” he says, and you looked at him, a puzzled look on your face. He squeezes your cheeks in response, forcing your mouth open. “You fucking brat” he mutters.

You keep your mouth open, expecting his finger, something. Instead, a glob of spit makes its way onto your tongue. He spit in your mouth. You throb.

“Eddie what the fuck-” you begin, but he interrupts you.

“You didn’t seem to mind spitting in my coffee, did you? Consider this a payback. Swallow it.” he smirks against your lips, lightly tapping his fingers on your cheek, not quite a slap. You obey immediately for the first time that night.

His hand travels down to the seam of your jeans, your breath becoming more labored with all the building tension from the night.

“Eddie…please” you whine, arching into his hand, not wanting to pull back anymore. You want release, brain hazy with the feeling of being under him, the way his rough hands are touching you, exploring you, grabbing and groping at the curves of your body as you arch into him.

His hand begins moving back and forth, the heel of his palm making direct contact with the seam of your pants, forcing a strangled whine out of you.

You grind your hips in sync with his hand, as the other sits on your cheek, cupping it, moaning in his mouth at the small amount of friction he's giving you. “Can I take your pants off?” he asks, soft against your mouth. You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He quickly makes work of taking your shoes and jeans off, pooled at his feet while his hands caress and grope their way up your thighs.

“You’re cute when you’re not being a cunt, you know that?” he whispers against your mouth, hand ghosting over your panties, practically feeling the heat radiating off of you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you say through gritted teeth, motioning to hit him in the chest. He stops you, grabbing your wrists with his hands.

“I suggest keeping that filthy mouth at bay if you really want me to do something about that big, wet patch on your panties, hm?” he whispers, licking your bottom lip, his hand still keeping an iron grip on your wrists.

“How ‘bout you stop being a cunt and fuck me?” you’ve had enough of his teasing and taunting.

“Who said anything about fucking?” he chuckles, his hand moving down to grope at your ass. “No, see, that would be improper, don’t you think? Fucking your boss in his office. You kinky bitch” he delivers a sharp smack down to your ass, reviving the dull sting from the spanking earlier.

“You’re not my fucking boss, Eddie. Stop talking and- ohmygod”

His other hand begins massaging over the crotch of your panties, making direct contact with your clit over the fabric. “Made you this wet from spanking you? Think you might have actually been the freak this whole time, sweetheart.” He hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties “Lift.” He taps your thigh, you immediately lift your hips to let him take your panties off.

He laughs when he sees the mess that he’s made of your pussy.

“Fuck stop- stop laughing” you whisper out while his hands begin to spread your legs further.

“I think you secretly love me laughing at you. You think you’re so tough, bein’ all mean, callin’ me a freak like it doesn’t turn you on just imagining how much of a fucking freak I really am, huh sweetheart?” he skims your jaw with his nose, his words making you shiver as you clench around nothing.

His free hand sneaking its way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you squeak.

Your hips lift off the desk, looking to find some kind of stimulation aside from Eddie’s cruel teasing touches.

He looks at you through his dark lashes “What is it, baby?” baby. baby. baby. The nickname makes your head spin.

“Eddie, I- fuck- please! I need-” your hips arch off the wooden surface as you feel his fingers prod your entrance.

“You need my fingers? Can you ask me nicely?” you want to kill him. He's reveling in the torture that he's putting you through.

“I f-ucking ah hate you” but you aren't really sure if you believe that yourself.

“You hate me sweetheart? I’m hurt. You won’t mind then if I just leave you here, do you?” he caresses over your inner thigh, the tips of his fingers coated in slick, clear arousal.

“No!” your hips lift once again “your fingers…please” His smile is pleased as one of his fingers enter you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” He's making your head spin, a choked noise leaves your lips as he pumps his finger in and out, finally getting the stimulation you need.

“More” you whisper, his other hand still on your throat.

“So greedy. Y’gonna thank me? Say ‘thank you, Eddie’”

At that point you can't even think about acting up. “F-fuck. Thank- thank you Eddie” and with that, he adds another finger.

God, you already feel so full and teetering the edge.

“Good girl. Now that I think about it, I believe you owe me an apology” he begins, his fingers working mercilessly inside you, while a string of breathy ah ah ahs are all the sounds you could muster.

“You were so mean to me the other day, I didn’t appreciate your tone while you were trying to apologize” he taunts, his fingers prodding deeper inside you. A small yelp escapes you.

“You were- you were ah” his fingers curl on your g-spot and your vision goes white.

“What was that? I was what, baby?” he begins to thumb at your clit, smiling like a maniac at the state he's reducing you in.

“Oh yes there” no idea how you're gonna finish your sentence.

“Feels good huh? Needa finish what you were saying, sweetheart, can’t have you going stupid on me just yet” his hand on your throat moves up to your cheek, delivering a couple light smacks to your face. You clench.

“Fuck, uh, you we-were being a oh god cunt” you say, mustering all the mental strength you can.

“Is that right? Funny how my fingers are in yours right now and you don’t seem to complain.” He laughs to himself, his thumb speeding up its assault on your clit.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I just need you to say ‘Sorry Eddie, I won’t be a bitch to you again.’ Can you say that or is your brain too fucking far gone to understand a single word i’m saying?” he teases, which briefly brings you back from the ecstasy of Eddie’s fingers working wonders on you.

“Fuck you, Eddie” you hiss through your teeth, immediately regretting it at the feeling of the coil in your belly beginning to tighten.

“Oh. It’s like that then. Alright” he simply says as he picks up his pace. Head thrown back as you revel in the feeling of nearing the edge of your release.

“Oh shit, get-getting close” you breathe.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum” he smiles, a wicked show of bared teeth that only makes you both want to punch him and fuck him.

“Fuck n- Oh God- ‘m not apologizing for- for shit” you arch your back, trying to make yourself cum before he changes his mind.

“Fucking apologize” he insists.

“Fuck you” you say, followed by the unwelcome feeling of emptiness as he takes his fingers out. You really thought he was bluffing.

An empty ache grows in your stomach, feeling unfulfilled and disappointed. You sit there in disbelief, as he cleans his fingers off with a tissue.

“Pity” he shrugs “Get dressed, I’m taking you home” he turns around, heading towards the front.

You throw the box of kleenex at his head. You miss.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” you jump off his desk, ignoring the dull throb between your legs as you put your panties and jeans back on, following the trail of your clothes he left in his wake.

“Could’ve said sorry” he just says, closing up the register, while you put on your shirt and shoes “C’mon my van is around the back” he offers, grabbing his keys.

“I’m not fucking getting in your car. I can drive” you protest.

“Yeah, uh huh, you and what car, you fucking liar? Saw you at the bus stop the other day, and your car isn’t in the parking lot. You either let me drive or you can sleep in here tonight.”

You let him drive you home. The sound of Judas Priest blaring through the speaker only makes the stubborn silence between you two louder.

The ten minute drive to your house feels like an hour, as you itch to get off the dingy van and take care of what he left unfinished.

He finally parks up in front of your house, you quickly book it towards your door as he shouts “You’re welcome sweetheart” before you fumble with the keys and enter inside. He stays there until you do.

Your dad was asleep already, so you crack his bedroom door to check up on him. You sigh. Everything seems to be alright.

Once all the lights are off, you run towards your room. Still in disbelief of what happened with Eddie, you strip off your coffee- smelling clothes, wincing at the thought of Eddie’s hands sneaking under your shirt, his fingers hooking on the sides of your panties.

The feeling of hatred and arousal battling each other off while you recall his stupid smiling face as he removed his fingers from inside you. The dull empty ache as you came down from the euphoria of his touch and words.

That night, you kick yourself for not saying sorry to him.

[pahtoosh]

In one of your lates work lee said she is a brat.. can I request something based on this?

Like when she gets upset that HE her DADDY called her something mean . How does he earn her trust and forgiveness back? 🥺

airhead

[image ID: a gif of lee bodecker frowning by tumblr user UnEarthlyDust. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1200 words

warnings: name-calling, lee gets very mad in this, apologies and tears with one reallyyy long hug. gets a little preachy at the end which i normally don’t vibe with but it felt appropriate for this au

a/n: i cannot even BEGIN to tell you how excited i was when i read this request! i tried writing it immediately but the story got away from me several times🤭 anyway today i managed to stay on track! woo! thank you so much, lovely anon. i hope you like this one🫶

pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: lee takes his frustrations out on you and accidentally calls you something mean

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“And look! Now Bingo Bunny has a hat to match his brown pants.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart-“

“Oh! I forgot his brown glasses too!” You ran back to your room to pick up yet another tiny accessory to show Lee. Ever since he got home an hour ago, you were running back and forth between his office and your room to show him your new treasures. Each toy had a story that reminded you of another toy which also had a story that connected to a totally different toy.

Lee sighed. He’d seen your entire toy collection by now. This little show-and-tell had started with the toys you bought by yourself today and devolved into a near encyclopedia of your entire collection.

Lee wanted to indulge your need for attention, but he needed to make one last phone call before he was officially done with work for today. Lee found he could never truly relax if he knew he had something to do or somewhere to be.

“I got the glasses! Look at Bingo, Daddy!” You held the bunny out and made him do a little dance.

“He’s lookin’ sharp, sugar.” He beckoned you over and leaned a little closer, then began to speak as if he were telling you a secret. You stopped buzzing for a moment to give Lee all of your focus, he knew just how to excite you and get your attention.

“Why don’t cha make a few more outfits for Bingo and do a fashion show for me later, yeah? Spend a long time on ‘em now. Make sure they’re perfect.”

“Okay, Daddy!” You left your daddy’s office once again, unaware that he was just trying to distract you.

Lee took advantage of this moment to swiftly lock his door and make the phone call. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he could be a proper daddy to you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

What was supposed to be a ten minute call ended up getting to forty minutes. Lee and Deputy O’Connolly were trying to review the security plan for the county fair, but they kept running into issues. Lee was nearing the end of his rope.

“What kinda idiot put Burke and Smith on entrance security? Those two ain’t nothin’ but trouble. Put ‘em together and add the pretty girls entering the fair into the mix and the line’ll grow ‘till it’s near half a mile!”

“I tell ya, this is the last time I trust anyone else to do shift assignments,” Lee groaned.

The two men continued talking as they made edits to their respective paper copies of the security plan. Then, Lee heard your little hand trying to wiggle open his office door.

“Hold on a second.” Lee covered the receiver and shouted to you, “I’m a bit busy right now!”

You shouted a response, but your voice didn’t project as well as Lee’s and it was muffled by the door.

“I’ll be out later, bunny! Just give me ten more minutes!” Lee thought that was the end of it, but you continued shaking the doorknob and started trying to push the door in.

“For the love of- I’ll call ya back later, Deputy.” Lee hung up the phone and stomped to the door, opening it with a huff.

You were still leaning on the door, but you managed to find your footing after the wood abruptly slipped away from you.

“Oh! Daddy, hi!”

“What is it? Is there a fire?”

“I got Bingo all dressed up! Come look!” You tried pulling Lee’s hand so he’d follow you, but he stayed rooted in his spot.

“Not now, bunny. Daddy’s on a very important phone call.”

“But you said-“

“Well now I’m sayin’ ‘not now’, aren’t I? You know the rules. Ya can’t interrupt Daddy at work unless it’s an emergency and ya sure as hell can’t go around trying to break down every door that stands in your way!”

“I just wanted to show you my Bingo,” you said quietly.

“And I’ll look at him later, but right now I’ve gotta explain to Deputy O’Connolly why I hung up on him ‘cause you’re too much of a damn airhead to know what a locked door means!”

You froze in front of Lee, too stunned to react.

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “Shit. Baby, I-“

Before Lee could continue, a whimper made its way out of your mouth, breaking you out of your trance and allowing you to run away.

Your daddy watched as you sped into your room and shut the door. He felt pathetic for taking his anger out on his baby. The sheriff wasn’t used to the feeling of white-hot anger and shame rolled into one. These weren’t the actions of the man he prided himself on being.

Lee took a few deep breaths before trying to open your door. You’d taken a page out of his book and locked it this time. You didn’t usually do this. Even when you were upset, you’d leave it unlocked, not even thinking to keep Lee out.

“Bunny, please open the door. Daddy wants to say somethin’ to ya.” Lee leaned his head on the door.

“Daddy gonna say somefin mean ‘gain!” you sobbed.

“No I’m not, I wanna apologize to ya.” Lee sighed. “I’m gonna get the key to your door okay? I need you to hear this.”

“No! No! Don’t wanna hear anything! Just leave me alone!”

Lee’s heart broke at the realization that he had lost your trust. He was your daddy. He was supposed to love you unconditionally and protect you from people who said mean things: people like him.

A tear slid down Lee’s cheek. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Daddy’s so fuckin’ sorry he said those mean things to ya. You’re not an airhead. You’re my smart, sweet, beautiful baby. I don’t deserve a perfect little thing like ya.”

Lee leaned against the wall. He was willing to wait as long as it took for you to let him in. To his surprise, not a minute later were you bursting through the door and wrapping your arms around him.

“Hey there, bunny. There’s my sweet baby,” Lee cooed.

You were still crying as you clung onto him. Lee continued soothing you with his words and touch.

“I know, I know.”

“Daddy’s so sorry, baby.”

When the last sobs left your body, Lee apologized again. It wasn’t perfect. Lee was never great with words. But it was soft and real. A gentle whisper in your ear while he hugged you so tight that you felt his tummy rumble with each passing syllable.

“I forgive you, Daddy.”

“You don’t have to, bunny. Daddy was awful to ya. Give me some time to make things right.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I forgive you,” you repeated, stubbornly.

Lee was at a loss for words. How could he ever repay your love? He settled for kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment. He thought about how lucky he was to have you and, for the first time in a while, Lee prayed. He prayed to someone, anyone, that he’d be able to make this up to you.

[iitodoiidas]

got a bit of time tonight, so i want to ramble about my boy Iida Tenya, and my own thoughts and feelings about the manga's ending.

this is long, LONG, and rambly and perhaps filled with grammatically incorrect sentences, and i dislike capitalization, so click read more at your peril!!!!

---

as an Iida fan, the ending of the manga is a huge, HUGE let down. i'm actually expecting to be disappointed tbh, with the slow and steady pushing of Iida as a character off to the side to make way for the Midoriya-Bakugou-Todoroki power trio.

and you know, i get it! thematically, they are the inheritors of All Might and his spirit of Heroism. and they deserve the spotlight too, given how much they grew as characters vs the start of the story.

(((

i'm not a big Bakugou fan (tho i find him v funny at times, like how you'd find a rabid racoon funny) , but his character arc is very satisfying for me as a reader. love that even in the end he's still a lil shit ahha! but the way he initiated and funded the whole armor thing for Midoriya means he's still trying to atone for all the shit he did in their past. which! good on him tbh.

Todoroki, my sweet summer child, has been abused physically, and emotionally suffered enough all his life, and i'm so glad he's on the path of healing now, and also away from his dad's shadow too.

Midoriya… hmm, personally, i would have preferred for him to have remained a teacher instead of going back to heroics. it would have been a great call back to the original premise of the story that questions "can a boy with no super power become a hero too?", because the answer will be "yes!" because you know damn well he'll be looked up to by every class he handles. and given his expertise upon analyzing quirks, think of how valuable his battle advice and tactics must be, especially to kids who are just beginning to understand their quirks!

generations of student heroes, learning from his battle/fight strategies, his ideals on heroism, and most importantly his kindness and desire to help people, and then putting those values in practice in the real world. wouldn't that be a great way on how you begin to establish a truly peaceful society?

)))

but… Iida. i think... Iida's been left behind by the story by the end of it.

i almost didn't include this pic bc it offends me so much. like why is my boy banished off to the corner!? HE DESERVES A SPOT ON THAT COUCH TOO GDI!!

bias aside, you cannot tell me that Iida's contribution to story isn't IMMENSE. he is very much essential to Midoriya's growth as a hero and Todoroki's path to healing (and Bakugou's... as a classmate and a non-dear friend lmaoooo) that neither would be possible without Iida's presence and influence.

Iida (and Uraraka) being the first to offer friendship to a very insecure Midoriya, and how important Iida reaching out his hand again to Midoriya was again later on when Midoriya needed help the most; Iida reminding Todoroki of himself when Iida's going down a dark and dangerous path away from his ideals, saving him, and then being saved in turn, because of how well they relate to and understand each other. Iida being the foundation of their entire class, the way he's offered steadfast support to every one of them.

just... sighhhhh...... we didn't even hear his graduation speech as a senior? i like Mirio well enough, and i also get that the war's just happened before they graduated which is a bummer sure and that needs to be addressed, but i feel like we also deserve parting words from OUR student representative. it would have been a nice send off too to the Class A as we know them, by having their class president acknowledge their efforts and hard work.

and then... the timeskip.

---

sighhhhhhh.................

ok i'll get to timeskip Iida later.

i've mentioned before how utterly wasteful i find it that Hori didn't flesh out the Iida family, as a foil against the Todoroki's.

like you have these boys from two families, similarly deeply rooted in the hero culture but with such highly contrasting upbringing. on one hand you have the Todoroki's, led by the no. 2 hero of all of Japan, who bc of ambition, had abused and traumatized all members of his small, nuclear family. and on the other, a multi-generational family of heroes, not high enough in the rankings, but successful enough to be known and respected by most of the population (also they're def super loaded too, like they have a damn BUILDING with their signature hero name!!!)

Tensei's presence in the story was underutilized too. here you have a well-known, well-liked hero who was established to have a team of sidekicks who work well together (as per Vigilantes). how interesting it would have been to have Tensei (and the Iida fam) to appear again in the story just as the hero society is collapsing? this family who made it their identity and business to help and save people as quickly and efficiently as possible? like... how could they have dealt with the fallout of the common people no longer trusting them and being actively hostile against known heroes?

knowing what we do about Tensei though, i doubt this will stop him. he'll for sure still be trying to help out people in need, even if he's already retired and while wheelchair-bound. which i also think is super unfair btw like we have Mirko with her super cool prosthetics, why can't Tensei have robot-assisted legs too??? and that's considering the Iida family who seem to primarily have mobility/tech hybrid based quirks, for sure they must have a team of tech experts specializing on mobility on hand as well????

imagine Tensei calling Tenya up one day saying he's got a surprise for his bb bro! and Tenya comes over all curious and stuff, and then Tensei greets him standing up with prosthetics, with a design that is inspired by Tenya's own leg-Engine quirk. then Tensei goes to explain that even if Tenya keeps saying that Tensei is his hero, Tensei would also like to declare that the new Ingenium is his hero, whom he'd like to honor with the design, and that someone he'd hope to work with in the future, even as a civilian background support. and in a few moments after that sinks in, Tenya will just bawl his eyes out (and then Tensei joins in in a bit bc let's be real these brothers adore each other v much)

and also..... i keep thinking what a reunion it would have been if Stain himself could have witnessed that "altruism" is well and truly alive, not only from the younger, but also from the elder Ingenium, both of whom he'd failed to kill?

siggggghhhhhhhh......

---

anyways, back to Iida Tenya. (i'll use Tenya now to refer to him, since i'll also mention Tensei a lot.)

i mentioned Tensei and the Iida fam first, bc somehow i thought we'd see a glimpse of them again before the manga ends. like an acknowledgement that Tenya had indeed proven himself worthy of the Ingenium name. wishful thinking, considering Inko (main character's mom!!!!!!) wasn't even given the chance to comfort and acknowledge her son (the main character!!!!!) as a hero as to what he has gone through to save their whole society!

anyways, so the last we see of Tenya, he's working with others, touring elementary schools, and spreading awareness and expanding quirk counseling headed by Uraraka. it's a noble pursuit yes, and beneficial too, if it could help kids with misunderstood quirks like Toga. but i can't help but feel Tenya's talents and skills could have been better put elsewhere.

like... rebuilding the Team IdaTen for example.

now, everything from this point on is all wishful thinking on my part, as an Iida Tenya fan who loves his character and story arc, and thinks he deserves a better ending.

Team IdaTen, as per Vigilantes manga, comprises of Sidekicks working under Ingenium, and their credo is (not verbatim, sorry) "to come to people's aid as quickly as possible". And this is a credo that Tenya has taken to heart, and is the core of his heroism. As the inheritor of the Ingenium name, isn't it a logical conclusion to have him step up as the new leader of the team?

in an Iida-led manga, maybe Tenya's challenge for this is how to prove himself as a capable leader amongst his brother's veteran Sidekicks. For sure they already know Tenya as their former leader's baby brother, but how about as a leader? maybe some of them won't be able accept Tenya as a replacement, being too loyal or different from his older brother.

or... is there stil even Team IdaTen? maybe many of them quit when Tensei retired, maybe some got disillusioned and quit too during the collapse of hero society. and for sure many of them also died or got injured during the war.

Tenya's goal could be to search and recruit his own Team IdaTen, a team which specializes as first responders. like if there's any disaster or accident, you'd be sure Team IdaTen is first on the scene!! they'd be helping who they can, and relay info to other responding heroes and other pros.

hmmm..... maybe that can explain Tenya's presence in Uraraka's advocacy to improve the quirk counseling? maybe he's recruiting potential, future Team IdaTen members. he'd be on the look out for speed-based, or mobility-based quirks, but would also be welcoming of other types for sure! the only important thing is their desire to help people and that they agree to the Ingenium credo, which is saving people takes priority out of everything.

and yknow, maybe this is also his way to help curb Vigilantism, which is another problematic issue in a hero society, and help set people on a more lawful path into becoming proper heroes. like how Tensei tried to recruit Koichi after seeing his potential and desire to help without having the means. it would have been a great callback to the values Tensei had inspired on Tenya, which he would then be able to pass on to a new set of heroes/sidekicks he'd lead as a team.

siiighhhhhhh.......

okk i'm running out of steam now. i will just continue being sad over Iida's wasted storylines for the foreseeable future. ( ; ^ ; ) </3

[footballffbarbiex]

pairing: antoine griezmann / you / Rodrigo de Paul words: 1391 warnings: fingering, nipple play, threat of public pussy eating. a/n: this is part of their upcoming series which I cannot wait to fucking share with everyone. admittedly, this part is written before I've actually got there in the plot currently, but still! enjoy!

_

You realise the concept of the polyamarous relationship was something new for most, but the men’s teammates and staff had done everything to make the three of you feel comfortable and safe while in the environment of the club. And even though no-one had made any comments - or at least not to any of your faces -, being here again a year after everything had become out in the open, it had still left you feeling a little nervous. Rodri had held your hand as Antoine had rubbed a soothing pace across the bottom of you back, only for you to see that the three of you had been placed together with you in the middle had made you feel happy, if not slightly overwhelmed by your own emotions. 

The two of them had sat with their hands on each thigh as they’d talked to others while absentmindedly stroking over your covered skin, with one of them occasionally turning to you to whisper things not meant for public hearing. The way they’d both looked at you throughout the night, the subtle touches here and there and the not so subtle glances had left you feeling some sort of way.

Once home, Rodrigo had left the two of you alone while he headed to the kitchen to pour some drinks and so you’d lead Antoine upstairs. His suit jacket was left downstairs, he’d shrugged out of it as you’d kicked off your heels and as you turn to look at him, he’s following quietly behind you with the only sound coming from his footsteps. His fingers undoing his cufflinks and pushing the sleeves of his dinner shirt up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos and thick watch which lay across his wrist. It was an innocent action and yet, it felt incredibly intimate to watch. 

His eyes lift from his hands to lock with yours as he begins to unbutton the shirt from the collar down, exposing inch by inch of his chest. “Something on your mind?” 

“You ask me this, like you hadn’t spent a good portion of this evening telling me how much you want to eat my pussy while trying to hitch my dress up.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He smirks as he finishes opening up his shirt. You want to stroke your fingers over his shoulders, over his chest and down to the waistband of his boxer shorts…and lower. 

“Come here and put those hands of yours to use,” you say, turning around and moving your hair out of the way so that he has access to the buttons that go down the back of the dress. He’d helped you into the dress, it was only fair that he helped you out of it. 

He’s quiet as he steps towards you, fingers lightly brushing over your nape as he begins to unbutton the first one. It feels as though he’s working slowly, deathly slowly as you feel him work down your spine. When the dress falls away from your shoulder, he places a light kiss there. And another one a little higher, getting closer to your neck as he continues. You make a little happy hum as his hands near the bottom of your back, his hands gently stroking over the skin as they start their journey back up to your shoulders where he pushes the dress from your arms, and from your body. Despite the hefty price tag that they’d paid for it, it pools at your feet and lays forgotten as Antoine turns his attention to the rest of you. 

“Nice lingerie,” you feel the smirk that presses against you with each kiss. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, this old thing?” you say, mirroring his tone. “I can’t remember where I picked this up from,” you say, knowing full well it was an early present that was given this morning along with the dress. While the dress was planned, the underwear was very much a pleasant surprise and knowing that you were wearing it, something they’d envisioned you in gave you a little thrill. 

His hand cups your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple which protrudes through the material and you press back into his chest as he kisses higher. 

“Starting without me?” Rodri asks as he appears in the doorway, large hands grasping the glasses but his attention is on the two of you rather than the occasional spill of liquid. 

“It was only fair. I’ve waited long enough for something to happen.” you reply quietly, savouring the feel of Antoine across your skin.  

Rodrigo places two of the glasses down and takes a long drink from his own, trying to keep his eyes on you the whole time. “It’s not as though I could have laid you out on the table and eaten your pussy in front of everyone now, could I?”

“Right now, I’m wondering why not.” 

“But we’re not there now, are we?” Rodri asks as Antoine pulls your breast free and Rodrigo dips his head to close his lips around your nipple. You can feel Anto hardening against you as he presses more kisses to your skin and his fingers begin to wander down to the hem of your underwear. Your stomach sucks in, your eyes flutter closed and the breath that you sucked into your lungs begins to feel like molten lava the longer you hold it there but you only have the mental capacity right now to concentrate on one thing: what they’re doing or breathing and right now, your breathing remains held. 

As much as you try to keep your composure, the feel of both mouths and the slow descent of Antoine’s fingers into your panties is making you go against everything you’re trying to do. Your head drops back ever so slightly and it’s then that you exhale and breathe in a series of quick gulps. Antoine takes this as an opportunity to press his lips to yours, he kisses you slowly, savouring the first few moments of arousal before all rational thinking goes out of the window. 

When his tongue meets yours, a single finger drags over your clit, down your slit and the tip of it teases at your entrance enough to draw a whimper from you. 

“I love it when you make that noise.” Rodri says, lips barely leaving your skin as he does so, his tongue moving against you with each word he speaks and the scrape of his facial hair over your soft skin adds yet another delicious layer of pleasure. He swirls his tongue around your areola enough times to make you bite Antoine’s bottom lip before Rodrigo flicks his tongue over your hard nipple and lightly bites. You buck your hips before grinding against Antoine’s fingers as he sinks two inside of you. 

“Fuck,” the singular word is on the cusp of being growled when his palm rubs against your clit as his fingers sink in and out of your pussy. “I should never have agreed to this arrangement.” you tell them, making Rodrigo pull away and straighten enough to look you in the eye. 

“And why is that?” he asks. “Because from the way I see it, you’ve benefited very well from this.”

“You would see it that way,” you say through gritted teeth as Antoine curls his fingers and presses them against that spot that always leaves your knees weak. 

“Yes, I would.” He agrees as he makes quick work to cover Antoine’s hand with his own and slowly removes his fingers from you as he pulls Antoine’s hand from your underwear. You watch as the P and E of Antoine’s tattooed fingers disappear between Rodrigo’s lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he works his tongue to clean them from your wetness. 

“Jesus Christ, I hate you.” Even with your eyes closed, you know the man in front of you is grinning. 

“Such a strong emotional response when I’ve barely started with you.” Fingers trail up over your stomach and to the edge of your bra, teasing their way along until they reach your now partially covered nipple. It takes seconds to tweak the hardness of it free again and a sharp pinch forces your eyes to open. 

“If you’re lucky and behave yourself,” Antoine whispers to your ear, “Santa won’t be the only one coming tonight.”

[autumnrose11]

“And even if she should have a lingering affection for me still, ought I to disturb her peace by awakening those feelings? to subject her to the struggles of conflicting duty and inclination — to whichsoever side the latter might allure, or the former imperatively call her — whether she should deem it her duty to risk the slights and censures of the world, the sorrow and displeasure of those she loved, for a romantic idea of truth and constancy to me, or to sacrifice her individual wishes to the feelings of her friends and her own sense of prudence and the fitness of things? No — and I would not! I would go at once, and she should never know that I had approached the place of her abode; for though I might disclaim all idea of ever aspiring to her hand, or even of soliciting a place in her friendly regard, her peace should not be broken by my presence, nor her heart afflicted by the sight of my fidelity.”

This is so sweet of Gilbert! He thinks of the effect that his presence will have upon her. However much he loves her, he cannot bear Helen to suffer because of him. After having travelled two days to see her, he’s on the point of turning away right at her doorstep because he does not want his love for her to burden her in any way. Earlier when Helen asked him not to contact her for six months, he respected it and kept away from her. He could easily have written to her but didn’t, because her happiness was more important to him than his own. He honoured her wishes. He shows this towards the beginning as well, when he would like the fire lit so “[he] can see her comfortable before [he] goes.”

Contrast this to Hargrave, who propositioned her how many times — six? Seven? Despite promising not to, despite her repeatedly telling him his advances were unwelcome and clearly seeing it was hurting her. Because his desires were all that mattered. To him, the word “no” simply means “She does want you, she just doesn’t know what’s best for her and you just have to persist in harassing her until she eventually gives in.” The media (some of the films I’ve seen, for e.g.) portray this behaviour as romantic. It’s not. I loathe Hargrave with a PASSION, every bit as much as Huntingdon.

He wants to go with Helen when running away from Grassdale to “protect” her. A) This is so bloody misogynistic because according to him, the woman who is raising her son by herself and has endured domestic abuse for six years can’t take care of herself. B) He expects her to be GRATEFUL for it. Grrrrrrrr. I felt a very strong urge to punch him in the throat and hug Helen when he assaulted her in the library. It broke my heart. Hargrave has that “nice guy” attitude where he helps her with ulterior motives and so, out of gratitude, she must willingly submit to his every demand.

The way these characters (especially the guys) are written are so chillingly realistic!

[ghosted-draws]

Aziraphale is legitimately a fascinating character to me, especially considering how the narrative deals with his fear specifically.

Think about it. Six THOUSAND years. That is an UNFATHOMABLY long time. We cannot even begin to conceive of it as humans. And he has been looking over his shoulder (as has Crowley), because at any moment someone could walk up to him, decide he isn’t good enough, and permanently take him away from his home. This goes as I said for both, because they can’t get new bodies on their own. If they’re taken out, living as they were becomes pretty much impossible, which is horrifying.

But Aziraphale specifically I find really interesting because of his situation. Consider this. You are presented with your creator. The person who designed you down to your very molecules, and they tell you the meaning of life. And they tell you you were created to be good. And you watch as all these people, created same as you, fail, and are taken and burned and warped into monsters and you are told they are evil.

And then you meet one of them. And he is kind, and he helps, even better then Heaven can, sometimes. And that is terrifying, because you are told he is evil. So either they, those that created you and everything you have always been meant to do, are wrong, or you cannot yet see how evil he is. And both terrify you. So you spend years waiting for the trap to spring, and it never does, and that can’t be right because he is no longer supposed to be good, he is fallen, and none of that makes any SENSE.

Throughout Good Omens, we see even how Crowley identifies with the role Hell has assigned him (“I’m not NICE.”) but Aziraphale is in a totally different position. Because Crowley has already fallen, he can avoid Hell. And Hell, like Aziraphale learns Heaven is, is fallible. But unlike Crowley, Aziraphale is still an Angel. Aziraphale can still Fall.

And no matter how fallible Heaven is, God is all knowing. He has to live with the fact that God is watching, all the time, and judging his actions. And if She sees them, and decides he has indulged too much, that his love of a demon is wrong, that he is no longer good, he will Fall. And he has spent thousands of years shaping his identity around the word “Angel”. If he falls, he will no longer get to be nice, and kind, and himself, and he is terrified.

Aziraphale is so black and white about things because he is so terrified of what grey means. Because if grey exists the way he thinks it might, then his whole existence for thousands of years might have been wrong. And that is fascinating to me.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Comeback

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: after a break up with Jenna, this is what you’re going through

Warnings: angst angst, bad writing

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Rrader

———

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

This is what you and Jenna said to each other multiple times during your short lived relationship. It was one if not THE best relationship you ever had, she was the best person you had ever met. You were perfect for one another, however you had two very different necessities. She was a worldwide known actress, and you were just one of the people she met before becoming famous. It was nice, at first. When your relationship was made public you had lots of fans, lots of people cherished what you had with Jenna, and soon enough you found yourself being invited to movie premieres with her and you were also under the attentions of paparazzis and interviewers and journalists. You didn’t mind that, you had to say. You loved absolutely everything about Jenna’s world and you were there to support her each step of the way.

you were there to support her the moments she broke down, telling her that everything was going to be okay. You were there the moment when the pressure would become too much, and she would feel at ease in her arms. You were there for her, no matter what she needed you were there.

But when you needed her, where was she?

“I can’t today, I have an interview”

“Babe I have filming this month, you know I don’t have time”

“I’m going out with the rest of the cast, I’ll see you at home”

As much as you wanted to be involved in her life, she never let you in completely. She never brought you on sets, she never introduced you to her friends, and sooner than expected you started feeling just like a distraction.

“Why are you still with her? This hurts you, and you know that. You don’t deserve to get hurt from this relationship.” Your mom asked you.

Because some times, We hold on to those who cannot love us for so many reasons. Sometimes, we hold on because we convince ourselves that the circumstance will change - that if we love harder, if we give more, if we stay, if we endure, the situation will evolve. The value of our love will be recognized, it will be chosen. Sometimes, we hold on because we feel like we have to. We feel like we have to be the ones to fix, the ones to mend, the ones to prove that human beings don't give up on a person they see something beautiful within.Sometimes, we hold on because we feel guilty, because we think that walking away and choosing ourselves is us discarding someone we care about, is us abandoning a human being. And sometimes, we hold on because we think that we will never find the kind of person who proves to us that love is not something that is meant to hurt. Sometimes, we hold on because we lose our belief in the fact that love has the potential to be soft, that there is more to life than what we are settling for.

And you want to hold on. You want to hold on because you really hope that she’ll find your way back to you. Because after all you’re perfect for each other. You knew that from the beginning.

From the beginning you knew, well, you hoped that you’d spend the rest of your lives together. But now?

Now you’re strangers again. And remembering how close the two of you used to be, it hurts you. Even after months, you still remember the smell of her perfume. The sound of her laugh, that you’ll probably never hear again. And you’ll always remember small details about her. The time the two of you spent together wasn’t much, and you wish you had more time with her, but you’re glad that your paths crossed, even if just for a while. And even though in the end she decided to leave, maybe she did what was best for you. For now you will love her silently, because you’re strangers again.

You don’t talk anymore, that’ true, but that doesn’t mean that you forget about her, and you know you can’t be anything anymore so you try, you try to move on from her but some times, part of you is still wishing for her to come back to you.

And she did,

She came back.

It was late at night when you heard your bell ring. You saw from your window that it was Jenna, and you had to be honest, you wanted to ignore her and go back to sleep. But you’re too nice. If she called you crying, you would answer. If her mother called you saying “(Y/N) we have an emergency, we need you” you’d rush at her place. If Jenna ever needs comfort, you’ll be there, every time. Maybe you’re too good, to sweet. But it’s who you are, and nothing can change that.

You went and opened the door for her. As soon as you did you looked in her eyes, you saw she was crying and you invited her in. You wanted to hug her and comfort her, but you knew better.

“What do you want, Jenna?” You asked her and crossed your arms, watching as she sat down on the sofa in the living room. She took a deep breath and spoke, trying not to sob. “I miss you. I’m so sorry if I hurt you, please, please forgive me” she said, and you chuckled, making her look at you. “Forgive you? Jenna you didn’t just hurt me, you broke me. You kept pushing me away, you kept excluding me from your life. For you I only existed when you needed support, and when you were asked to bring someone to the movie premieres. I didn’t exist as your girlfriend, I didn’t exist as the woman you come home to. I didn’t exist at all, because whenever I needed you, you ignored me.”

“You kept pushing me away, but I alwavs chose to stay. So, shame on me. Shame on me for letting you walk all over me. Shame on me for letting you get into the depths of my soul that no one has ever touched. Shame on me for putting up with your mind games.“

You saw Jenna’s eyes fill with a new bash of tears, and she tried to speak but you were quicker

“Shame on you for always misleading me. Shame on you for always making me feel we had a chance. Shame on you for keeping me in your fantasy of what we could be; when you had every opportunity to set me free, you chose to let me dream.”

“(Y/N) please, please just let me try to win your heart again, let me try ti fix it-“ she sobbed out, but you have had enough. “No, Jenna. I’m done with your games, I’m done with only being used as a distraction, I’m done with only being there only when it’s convenient for you. Just leave and forget about me. I’m just a stupid normal girl after all I’m not famous like you, I’m not an actress or someone you want to be seen with so I’m sure it will be easy for you to forget about me.”

You said and didn’t look at her, you put your hands in your hair. Now you changed your mind, You just wanted to keep her in your memories, keep her locked there and never see her again.

“But what if I never forget you?” She said all of the sudden, you turned to look at her. “What if, all my life, when I meet someone new I can never fall for them because they aren’t you?” Jenna asked. You wanted to tell her that you will never forget her, that you’ll never find someone like her and that you wanted to be a couple with her again. But your pride was stronger than that.

“Find a replacement. You already did that, all the times that you were acting smitten and all lovey dovey with Percy.” There. She asked for it, didn’t she?

You watched Jenna react like a mouse who just got caught in a trap, like this was her deepest secret.

“What are you talking about?” She said, trying to play dumb.

“Jenna, enough. I’m tired if being a replacement and for someone I want to be someone that isn’t so easily replaced.”

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 12:  A Study in Pink. In which there is an attempted murder. Maybe. And a considered murder. And the reappearance of a possible attempted murderer. And... maybe a love potion. Or not.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

It is essential to not only have a primary tactic, but additionally a secondary tactic, prior to enacting primary. Should primary plan fail, the secondary tactic will be in place immediately. Otherwise, time will be lost in formulating additional plans.

Personal comments: It is unlike me not to have a secondary tactic in place in advance. Did not expect complete failure of Kitty equation. Although target expressed appreciation for food and play, she seems no closer to showing increased affection toward me.

As such have been researching alternative strategies. This afternoon, inquired of Nobunaga how he had won the affections of Lady Mai. Nobunaga said, “I told Mai she was mine, and then conquered her body one limb at a time.”

This is concerning. I cannot imagine saying to Okatsu, “You are mine and I will begin my conquest with your shoulder.” Although she does have nice shoulders. I expect that her response to this claim would be to stab me.

Nobunaga then said, “Until one day, I understood that while I had been trying to conquer her body, Mai had conquered my heart. She won me, Mitsunari, not the opposite.”

It appears to me that in this particular situation, Lady Mai will be the more effective battle consultant.

“Ow.” I winced as I tried to get a comb through my hair. Should have combed it out as soon as I exited the fishpond but was delayed by Hideyoshi’s lecture on ‘Behavior Unbecoming A Princess… Part 17.’ Now it was over halfway dried and hopelessly snarled.

“Okatsu, may I comb your hair for you?” Mitsunari held his hand out for the comb.

That was sweet of him… but I couldn’t imagine him being able to perform that activity painlessly. “I can’t ask you to do that – it’s so tangled you could lose a finger in there.”

“You did not ask. I am offering.” He patted a spot on the floor in front of him. “I often brush Kitty’s fur. She very much enjoys it.”

Another Mitsunari non sequitur. I ought to start numbering those the way I did Hideyoshi’s lectures. However, knowing cats, if Kitty had not liked Mitsunari brushing her fur, she would have let him know. Mentally crossing my fingers, I knelt in front of him.

After a couple false starts that nearly tugged my hair out by the roots, Mitsunari figured out the process of carefully anchoring my hair with one hand while he gently teased out the snarls with the other. Once the tangles were out, having the comb slide through my hair felt soothing and relaxing. I fought the urge to lean back against Mitsunari and close my eyes.

“Do you like this Okatsu?” His voice was right in my ear, and a tiny zing of awareness slid through me.

“Mm, yes, this is nice. Thank you.” Formal words for, don’t stop.

“I needed to ask. Kitty lets me know by purring when she likes something, but it is more difficult to tell with you when you like something.” He continued running the comb through the length of my hair. When he reached the ends, he would coil the still damp pieces around his finger.

“True, humans don’t purr. I like this Mitsunari. I do.” Too much actually. I needed to pull away, thank him, and then perhaps bring out my shogi set or some other nice, safe activity. I mean not that combing hair wasn’t safe. Back in my old life, I’d gone to a hairstylist sometimes, and when he combed my hair, I didn’t feel like purring. And when my mother comb- right. A nice safe shogi game.

Before I could make that suggestion, the door slid open, and Shohime walked in, followed by a maid carrying a tray with a pot of tea and three cups. She was, as usual, dressed beautifully, in a pink (!) and silver kimono, without a hair out of place… ok no, that’s an exaggeration. She had wisps of hair coming out of the intricate knot she had her hair in, but it took her from ‘perfection’ to ‘charming disarray,’ so overall the effect was unchanged.

“I’m here to apologize for my behavior this morning.” She kept her eyes downcast.

The comb paused in my hair, and I looked over my shoulder, where Mitsunari had frozen in confusion. ‘Tell you later,’ I mouthed at him. I hadn’t mentioned the whole second wife thing to him – no need to overload his emotional processors.

For that matter, it was unlikely that Shohime was truly sorry, though I was curious to find out what she wanted this time. And, I had promised to help her. “It’s alright Shohime. I understand there’s a lot of upheaval in your life right now.”

She blinked a few times and there was that single tear again. She pulled out a handkerchief and carefully dabbed at her eyes, and – Was there a Sengoku Princess Academy where they taught such subjects as ‘Artful Disarray 101,’ ‘Advanced Crying Techniques,’ and ‘Etiquette for Royalty: Real Princesses Don’t Knock’?

Anyway.

The maid set the tray of tea on the table and silently backed out of the room. Shohime gracefully sank to her knees. I looked again at Mitsunari, but he seemed content to let me handle things. “Shohime, I’ve been thinking about your reluctance to marry your fiancé, but so far, the only solution – other than the one you suggested this morning, which I don’t think Nobunaga will agree to – would be to enter a convent.”

She shook her head. “I’m not that religious. I do, someday, want my own castle, but I’m not ready now, and even though my fiancé seems polite, I don’t trust my father’s taste.” Obviously, she’d seen that shelf in the archive room too. “Lady Yone told me I ought to go along with it, and if he turned out to be too impossible, that I should wait until I had a son, and then kill him.” She wrung her hands together. “But that could take years!”

Mitsunari and I looked at each other. Neither of us thought the conversation would go in that direction. I felt something clunk on my shoulder, and discretely reached back and took the comb out from where it was stuck in my hair. “Er, let’s try to find a solution that avoids murder.” I would think of something.

I would … think of something.

I couldn’t think of anything.

The three of us sipped our tea in silence.

Eventually Mitsunari cleared his throat and suggested, “If Mozumi plotted against Nobunaga, then Nobunaga could take Shohime as a hostage. Then she could live in Azuchi without having to marry anyone.”

Well. That was. Something. “How does this avoid murder?”

“We would catch Mozumi before he got to the point of killing anyone.” He calmly sipped the tea. “It’s a strategy with a high probability of success.”

“Simply because it could work doesn’t mean we should try it!” One of these days, I might have to have a chat with him about the difference between theoretical success and practical solutions.

“I don’t want to be a hostage!” Shohime sniffed. Blink. Blink. Single tear. “Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?” She looked at him, then at his teacup, then back at him. “Truly certain?”

To avoid putting Mitsunari on the spot, I reminded Shohime. “Your father would never allow it, so that would not solve the problem.”

“If Nobunaga arranged it, my father would be fine with it.” She rattled the teapot and poured us all more tea.

Who did she think Nobunaga was, the Yente from Fiddler on the Roof? Er, well, except, Nobunaga arranging the engagement between myself and Mitsunari had been the cover story that Mitsuhide had devised, so we did kind of screw ourselves over there and –

What the hell?!

Shohime had just poured something into Mitsunari’s tea. Mitsunari reached for his cup.

“Mitsunari! Don’t touch that!” I grabbed his arm. He gave me a startled look, then eyed his sword. Alright… I didn’t think that would be necessary, but… “Shohime, what did you put in his… NO. DO NOT cry again!” Tears had already started to pool in her eyes.

She sniffled and wiped her eye with one artistic finger. “It’s just more of the love potion, since the first cup he drank didn’t do any good…” She frowned at the tray. “I think he drank it. I might have given it to you, Okatsu.”

A what?!?

I sniffed the cup. It smelled like tea. It had tasted like tea. Not that I believed in the existence of love potions anyway. I glanced at Mitsunari sent him a raised eyebrow look that hopefully he would translate as, ‘what do you think?’

“I do not feel any different,” he said. He sounded very decisive about that. Nor was he looking at her with adoration.

“There’s no such thing as a love potion. It’s a myth. Even if you gathered … whatever you put in this… and danced by the light of the full moon.” The moon hadn’t even been full last night anyway.

“Lady Yone said there is. She once told me that purple flowers that grow along the cliffs, if brewed into a tea, would make a love potion.” She opened the teapot and stared into it.

Purple flowers… cliffside… I had to think to picture what grew around h—

Torikabuto.

I took the teapot away from her, while again my brain went ‘don’t touch it, don’t spill it, get rid of it.’ Although…. she couldn’t have picked torikabuto because we would all be dead by now. “Shohime, that’s poison!”

“Oh. I did wonder why Nobunaga’s groom took it away from me.” She sighed sadly. “Maybe people pretend its poison to hide the fact that love potion grows on every cliff in Japan.”

“It is poison. I have seen the results.” Mitsunari pushed the table further away from all of us. “And Kyubei took it away from you?”

She nodded. “Is that his name? Long black hair, and a way of speaking that sounds like he’s secretly laughing at you?”

Well, his name is actually Mitsuhide, and that’s a wig, but she’d totally pinged his mannerism. Then again, he had just saved our lives so I guess I could put up with a bit of snark and sarcasm.

“He gave me this instead, and said it was a better love potion.” She held up a tiny ceramic container. It likely contained cold tea. Of course, it was Mitsuhide, so who knows. Shohime gazed at Mitsunari. “Are you sure you’re not in love with me?”

“I am sorry, Princess Shohime, I am not.” He patted my shoulder, as if to prove to her that his feelings toward me were unchanged (which, since he had no feelings toward me, would be true).

Shohime looked at me and raised one eyebrow. (Damn! That must be taught at Princess Academy too).

“I don’t love you either.” At this moment, I didn’t even like her.

“I’ll be going to my rooms now. There is, alas, no way to prevent my marriage to a man I do not love.” She was literally wilting like a flower at the end of summer, but I was too angry with her to feel sympathy. She sniffled, and with a quivering lip, she said, in a bravely suffering tone of voice, “But I truly hope the two of you will be very happy together.” With a watery bow, she glided out of the room.

Once her footsteps faded off in the distance, Mitsunari eyed the teacup. “What do you think Mitsuhide gave her to put in the tea?”

“Tea. I hope. Nothing that would kill us.” Plus, if we were about to be poisoned, Mitsuhide would have managed to find a way to warn us.

“I agree. Mitsuhide would not do anything to cause us harm.” Mitsunari reached for the teacup.

I grabbed his arm. “Wait! You’re not going to drink it after all that?”

“I am thirsty.”

“But…” Mitsuhide wouldn’t harm us. However, I had seen him roofie Masamune for a joke. I could imagine him playing a trick that would be embarrassing, or temporarily uncomfortable. “It might not be plain tea.”

Mitsunari gazed at the tea as if it might contain the secret of the universe. Or simply the secret to thirst quenching. “What might it do?”

Hm. Mitsuhide had a warped sense of humor by the wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mission. “I don’t know. Give us weird dreams maybe? Or, you know what? He probably knew I would catch Shohime in the act and it’s just plain tea, but he wants me to think it is something else because he knows that would make me crazy.”

“Am I or am I not able to drink this?” He peered at the cup. “If one of us already drank the potion and neither of us feels any different, then it should be safe to drink this.”

“Unless Shohime really messed up and drank it herself.” I shook my head, already exhausted with trying to replay the shell game to determine whether the liquid was ok to drink. “I’ll go to the kitchen and request another pot of tea.”

Not wanting to get fully dressed again, I threw Mitsunari’s haori over my night kimono and headed off to find something safe to drink.

When I finally located the kitchen, the person I least wanted to see, Mitsuhide, was lounging by the table, chatting with one of the maids. “Are you lost, Princess? Is there something I can assist you with?”

Right. There were witnesses, so he wasn’t Mitsuhide right now. Also, there were witnesses, so I couldn’t kill him right now. Instead, I glared at him, then turned to the kitchen maid, who was layering plums and salt in a clay jar. “I’m sorry, but could I trouble you for a pot of water for tea?”

Once the maid scurried off, Mitsuhide looked me up and down. “That’s a rather fetching ensemble.”

I suppressed the urge to say ‘bite me, Akechi.’ He wouldn’t understand the idiom anyway. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to bite me. “Would it do me any good to ask what was in that potion?”

“Lady Okatsu, you must know you may ask me whatever you want.” I noticed he didn’t promise a straight answer. “A bit of this and a pinch of that. Who drank it?”

“Princess Perfect wasn’t sure. She confused the cups before entering the room.” I grabbed a tray and set out a bowl and whisk, then searched the shelves for plain tea.

“Mm, yes, it does appear that her beauty is inversely proportional to her intelligence.” He crossed his arms behind his head and looked the very picture of smug innocence. (Yes, I know that’s an oxymoron).

“Possibly she’s just very very young.” Feeling a slight chill to the air in the kitchen, I pulled Mitsunari’s haori closer to my body.

“She’s unlikely to survive her youth if she continues to harvest poisonous flowers for her tea.” He pointed to a shelf above my head.

I reached for the canister, hopping up on my toes, then finally giving up and jumping to reach it, all the while Mitsuhide lounged there smirking at me. “Lady Yone told her those flowers were magical. Apparently, the concept of wicked stepmother is not simply a folk tale.”

“Infanticide is not simply the domain of the stepparent. Although, granted, a natural mother is less likely to try and murder their own offspring.” Mitsuhide seemed remarkably nonchalant about the concept. And while I had gotten used to a lot after living in this era for seven years, I found it much harder to accept the idea of domestic homicide than the deaths that were a natural result of war.

“Poor kid. Lady Yone would be frightening even if she didn’t have homocidal impulses.” Then, reminded of my original question. “Really, what was in that potion?”

“You’re acting rather paranoid, Okatsu. You ought to know that I wouldn’t have given her anything deadly.” He grabbed one of the abandoned plums and took a bite out of it. “Perhaps it truly was a love potion. Or perhaps it was simply a potion designed to enhance whatever current emotion you’re feeling.”

“Currently, my emotion toward you is leaning toward lethal, so you’d better hope that is not the case.” An array of knives was spread out on a cloth. I made a show of eyeing them meaningfully.

He snickered. “It may possibly have been water. You’ll have to wait and see.”

At that point, the safest strategy was to ignore him, so I leaned against the wall and examined my fingernails until the maid returned with a pot of hot water. I added it to the tray, thanked her, bowed, and left Mitsuhide without any further word. It was just water, I told myself. Mitsuhide was being a smug ass, but he wouldn’t do anything counter to Nobunaga’s objectives. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fi-

A door slid open. “I thought I heard the sound of tea… Kaya?!”

Two words in and I recognized his voice.

I took a step backward, but where would I go anyway? He’d seen me.

“Iekane?” It came out as a weak whisper. What was he doing here? For the last five years, I’d been fantasizing the moment when I would encounter him again, when I’d confront him, demand he tell me why he had tried to kill me. In some of the fantasies, I didn’t even bother with explanations, I’d simply killed him.

I’d never envisioned that the encounter would come in a dark hallway, and that my arms would be burdened with a tea tray. I couldn’t grab my dagger. I couldn’t even grab my emotions. When it came down to flight or fight – I simply…

… froze.

And in my shock, I allowed him to pull me into his room.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[aeoki]

Number Eight - Tripping 9

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Kohaku & Niki Location: Company Car

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< One hour later. Less than an hour until the time limit. >

Niki: …Yeah, the key fits in this door.

…Excuse me~

Uh, I think this is the right place. It’s the same as the one in the photo, right?

…Woah!? Party poppers!?

There are staff members here. Which means this is the goal for “Number Eight”...?

HiMERU: Look, the tablet also says “Congratulations!”

Kohaku: So it’s finally over. I’m glad our hard work paid off.

Niki: Yeah. Sure, this is a variety TV show, but we really went through a lot.

Especially Rinne-kun. He didn’t feel well because he wasn’t used to the place… I wish the staff did a better job taking care of us.

Rinne: Don’t sulk so much, Niki. I’ll say something to ‘em on behalf of “Crazy:B”.

Niki: Okay. Make sure you give it to them straight!

Rinne: Hey, staff members, how dare you put us through all that.

We went back and forth on the West Coast… It was hell, ya know?

But we also got to have a nice trip thanks to you guys. We’re really thankful.

Niki: …Excuse me?

Wha? Did I hear that right? I thought you were gonna complain to them.

What did you mean by a “nice trip”...?

Rinne: Sure, I didn’t feel good at some point in time, but that had nothing to do with the show, right?

This sorta crazy show is perfect for us and yeah, I’ll stir up some trouble for the staff, but once the show’s over, it’s normal to get along with them, right?

Niki: Well, sure, that’s normal in the industry but… Oh, geez. I’m not gonna know how to feel if you give a sound argument like that!

Rinne: Oi, oi, Niki. You’re makin’ an enemy outta the wrong people.

The conflict that occurs between the corrupt staff, who only care about business, and the idols, who’re being used by ‘em, don’t happen that frequently.

Or what? Have you started to believe in those online conspiracies too?

If that sorta stuff kept happening, then the entertainment industry would’ve disappeared a long time ago.

HiMERU: Right. In other words, Amagi knew everything from the very beginning, but didn’t tell us.

Amagi didn’t say a word, so we misunderstood. But both parties had reached an agreement from the beginning.

Rinne: Yeah. It means that the majority of the people working in this industry are good people deep down. They’re just members of the general public who want to work with public entertainment.

Sure, sometimes there are those who stir up trouble ‘cause the industry’s huge, but those are just the outliers in the grand scheme of things.

“Number Eight” was originally supposed to be revived in Japan without a budget. But I asked ‘em for a big favour and changed it so that it’d be filmed overseas.

In exchange, they’d go easy on the variety aspects and we’d have to give good reactions.

Kohaku: I–I see.

Staff, I’m sorry. We tricked you in order to get a phone call out…!

Rinne: Wait, hold up! Whaddya mean by that…!?

Guys, you didn’t do anything rude while I was asleep, right?

Niki: It wasn’t anything violent. We just lied to them and borrowed their phone for a bit!

HiMERU: I don’t think we did anything rude, but it’s true the staff began distrusting us. That certainly showed in their behaviour – HiMERU cannot deny that.

Niki: Hmm? “We originally intended on messing with you guys, anyway, so it doesn’t bother you? If anything, you were glad we went along with all the craziness…?”

I’m grateful you think that way. If only Rinne-kun told us this earlier.

But why did you make such a roundabout request and ask them to change the location?

If the show didn’t take place overseas, then there wouldn’t have been a misunderstanding between you and the staff.

Rinne: The answer’s obvious, right? ♪ This is the land of my dreams – it’s the place I can hit it big, ya know?

Once filming is over, we’re gonna hole ourselves up in Las Vegas!

Niki: …Wha!? You put us and the staff through all that trouble just for that!?

Ugh, looks like my worst enemy was right next to me all along! HiMERU-kun, Kohaku-chan, this useless human here is the real root of all evil!

He’s just gonna do this all over again if he doesn’t learn his lesson!

Rinne: Gyahaha! Why don’t you try and catch me then?

Let’s see if you can catch Rinne Amagi-kun, who’s made a full recovery after a good night’s sleep…☆

Niki: Ah, wait, Rinne-kun! I’m gonna make you stop with your oppression today once and for all~!

Kohaku: Niki-han and Rinne-kun are the same as usual.

I didn’t expect Rinne-han’s goal to be Las Vegas, though.

HiMERU: Hehe. That certainly sounds like something Amagi would do.

It probably wasn't necessary to travel around the West Coast on a TV show if that’s where he really wanted to go, though.

Kohaku: ?

HiMERU: He could’ve made the location for the show Las Vegas instead. Since the show was to be filmed overseas, he would’ve had numerous chances to change it to Las Vegas.

HiMERU thinks what he truly wanted was to go on a drive on the West Coast with “Crazy:B”. That’s probably why he wanted to film the show overseas.

Kohaku: Ohh.

He’s really one awkward guy, huh. He should’ve just been honest from the start.

Well, I guess that’s the type of person our leader is – pretentiousness and all…♪

Rinne: Come on, Niki, try and catch me! I won’t run nor hide ☆

Niki: You’re running away as you’re saying that! Why, you–!

On second thought, I’m always getting pushed around by you! You’re still recovering from not feeling well earlier, so stop moving about so much, geez~!

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