#i'm getting flooded again but i'm also getting flooded with real people so there's like an even mix in here

[cozylittleartblog]

refugees: for the love of god, change your icon and blog title off default. change it to anything that isn't default or a photo of a real human woman

[imsobadatnicknames2]

How can you consider yourself any sort of leftist when you defend AI art bullshit? You literally simp for AI techbros and have the gall to pretend you're against big corporations?? Get fucked

I don't "defend" AI art. I think a particular old post of mine that a lot of people tend to read in bad faith must be making the rounds again lmao.

Took me a good while to reply to this because you know what? I decided to make something positive out of this and use this as an opportunity to outline what I ACTUALLY believe about AI art. If anyone seeing this decides to read it in good or bad faith... Welp, your choice I guess.

I have several criticisms of the way the proliferation of AI art generators and LLMs is making a lot of things worse. Some of these are things I have voiced in the past, some of these are things I haven't until now:

Most image and text AI generators are fine-tuned to produce nothing but the most agreeable, generically pretty content slop, pretty much immediately squandering their potential to be used as genuinely interesting artistic tools with anything to offer in terms of a unique aesthetic experience (AI video still manages to look bizarre and interesting but it's getting there too)

In the entertainment industry and a lot of other fields, AI image generation is getting incorporated into production pipelines in ways that lead to the immiseration of working artists, being used to justify either lower wages or straight-up layoffs, and this is something that needs to be fought against. That's why I unconditionally supported the SAG-AFTRA strikes last year and will unconditionally support any collective action to address AI art as a concrete labor issue

In most fields where it's being integrated, AI art is vastly inferior to human artists in any use case where you need anything other than to make a superficially pretty picture really fast. If you need to do anything like ask for revisions or minor corrections, give very specific descriptions of how objects and people are interacting with each other, or just like. generate several pictures of the same thing and have them stay consistent with each other, you NEED human artists and it's preposterous to think they can be replaced by AI.

There is a lot of art on the internet that consists of the most generically pretty, cookie-cutter anime waifu-adjacent slop that has zero artistic or emotional value to either the people seeing it or the person churning it out, and while this certainly was A Thing before the advent of AI art generators, generative AI has made it extremely easy to become the kind of person who churns it out and floods online art spaces with it.

Similarly, LLMs make it extremely easy to generate massive volumes of texts, pages, articles, listicles and what have you that are generic vapid SEO-friendly pap at best and bizzarre nonsense misinformation at worst, drowning useful information in a sea of vapid noise and rendering internet searches increasingly useless.

The way LLMs are being incorporated into customer service and similar services not only, again, encourages further immiseration of customer service workers, but it's also completely useless for most customers.

A very annoyingly vocal part the population of AI art enthusiasts, fanatics and promoters do tend to talk about it in a way that directly or indirectly demeans the merit and skill of human artists and implies that they think of anyone who sees anything worthwile in the process of creation itself rather than the end product as stupid or deluded.

So you can probably tell by now that I don't hold AI art or writing in very high regard. However (and here's the part that'll get me called an AI techbro, or get people telling me that I'm just jealous of REAL artists because I lack the drive to create art of my own, or whatever else) I do have some criticisms of the way people have been responding to it, and have voiced such criticisms in the past.

I think a lot of the opposition to AI art has critstallized around unexamined gut reactions, whipping up a moral panic, and pressure to outwardly display an acceptable level of disdain for it. And in particular I think this climate has made a lot of people very prone to either uncritically entertain and adopt regressive ideas about Intellectual Propety, OR reveal previously held regressive ideas about Intellectual Property that are now suddenly more socially acceptable to express:

(I wanna preface this section by stating that I'm a staunch intellectual property abolitionist for the same reason I'm a private property abolitionist. If you think the existence of intellectual property is a good thing, a lot of my ideas about a lot of stuff are gonna be unpalatable to you. Not much I can do about it.)

A lot of people are suddenly throwing their support behind any proposal that promises stricter copyright regulations to combat AI art, when a lot of these also have the potential to severely udnermine fair use laws and fuck over a lot of independent artist for the benefit of big companies.

It was very worrying to see a lot of fanfic authors in particular clap for the George R R Martin OpenAI lawsuit because well... a lot of them don't realize that fanfic is a hobby that's in a position that's VERY legally precarious at best, that legally speaking using someone else's characters in your fanfic is as much of a violation of copyright law as straight up stealing entire passages, and that any regulation that can be used against the latter can be extended against the former.

Similarly, a lot of artists were cheering for the lawsuit against AI art models trained to mimic the style of specific artists. Which I agree is an extremely scummy thing to do (just like a human artist making a living from ripping off someone else's work is also extremely scummy), but I don't think every scummy act necessarily needs to be punishable by law, and some of them would in fact leave people worse off if they were. All this to say: If you are an artist, and ESPECIALLY a fan artist, trust me. You DON'T wanna live in a world where there's precedent for people's artstyles to be considered intellectual property in any legally enforceable way. I know you wanna hurt AI art people but this is one avenue that's not worth it.

Especially worrying to me as an indie musician has been to see people mention the strict copyright laws of the music industry as a positive thing that they wanna emulate. "this would never happen in the music industry because they value their artists copyright" idk maybe this is a the grass is greener type of situation but I'm telling you, you DON'T wanna live in a world where copyright law in the visual arts world works the way it does in the music industry. It's not worth it.

I've seen at least one person compare AI art model training to music sampling and say "there's a reason why they cracked down on sampling" as if the death of sampling due to stricter copyright laws was a good thing and not literally one of the worst things to happen in the history of music which nearly destroyed several primarily black music genres. Of course this is anecdotal because it's just One Guy I Saw Once, but you can see what I mean about how uncritical support for copyright law as a tool against AI can lead people to adopt increasingly regressive ideas about copyright.

Similarly, I've seen at least one person go "you know what? Collages should be considered art theft too, fuck you" over an argument where someone else compared AI art to collages. Again, same point as above.

Similarly, I take issue with the way a lot of people seem EXTREMELY personally invested in proving AI art is Not Real Art. I not only find this discussion unproductive, but also similarly dangerously prone to validating very reactionary ideas about The Nature Of Art that shouldn't really be entertained. Also it's a discussion rife with intellectual dishonesty and unevenly applied definition and standards.

When a lot of people present the argument of AI art not being art because the definition of art is this and that, they try to pretend that this is the definition of art the've always operated under and believed in, even when a lot of the time it's blatantly obvious that they're constructing their definition on the spot and deliberately trying to do so in such a way that it doesn't include AI art.

They never succeed at it, btw. I've seen several dozen different "AI art isn't art because art is [definition]". I've seen exactly zero of those where trying to seriously apply that definition in any context outside of trying to prove AI art isn't art doesn't end up in it accidentally excluding one or more non-AI artforms, usually reflecting the author's blindspots with regard to the different forms of artistic expression.

(However, this is moot because, again, these are rarely definitions that these people actually believe in or adhere to outside of trying to win "Is AI art real art?" discussions.)

Especially worrying when the definition they construct is built around stuff like Effort or Skill or Dedication or The Divine Human Spirit. You would not be happy about the kinds of art that have traditionally been excluded from Real Art using similar definitions.

Seriously when everyone was celebrating that the Catholic Church came out to say AI art isn't real art and sharing it as if it was validating and not Extremely Worrying that the arguments they'd been using against AI art sounded nearly identical to things TradCaths believe I was like. Well alright :T You can make all the "I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with a catholic" legolas and gimli memes you want, but it won't change the fact that the argument being made by the catholic church was a profoundly conservative one and nearly identical to arguments used to dismiss the artistic merit of certain forms of "degenerate" art and everyone was just uncritically sharing it, completely unconcerned with what kind of worldview they were lending validity to by sharing it.

Remember when the discourse about the Gay Sex cats pic was going on? One of the things I remember the most from that time was when someone went "Tell me a definition of art that excludes this picture without also excluding Fountain by Duchamp" and how just. Literally no one was able to do it. A LOT of people tried to argue some variation of "Well, Fountain is art and this image isn't because what turns fountain into art is Intent. Duchamp's choice to show a urinal at an art gallery as if it was art confers it an element of artistic intent that this image lacks" when like. Didn't by that same logic OP's choice to post the image on tumblr as if it was art also confer it artistic intent in the same way? Didn't that argument actually kinda end up accidentally validating the artistic status of every piece of AI art ever posted on social media? That moment it clicked for me that a lot of these definitions require applying certain concepts extremely selectively in order to make sense for the people using them.

A lot of people also try to argue it isn't Real Art based on the fact that most AI art is vapid but like. If being vapid definitionally excludes something from being art you're going to have to exclude a whooole lot of stuff along with it. AI art is vapid. A lot of art is too, I don't think this argument works either.

Like, look, I'm not really invested in trying to argue in favor of The Artistic Merits of AI art but I also find it extremely hard to ignore how trying to categorically define AI art as Not Real Art not only is unproductive but also requires either a) applying certain parts of your definition of art extremely selectively, b) constructing a definition of art so convoluted and full of weird caveats as to be functionally useless, or c) validating extremely reactionary conservative ideas about what Real Art is.

Some stray thoughts that don't fit any of the above sections.

I've occassionally seen people respond to AI art being used for shitposts like "A lot of people have affordable commissions, you could have paid someone like $30 to draw this for you instead of using the plagiarism algorithm and exploiting the work of real artists" and sorry but if you consider paying an artist a rate that amounts to like $5 for several hours of work a LESS exploitative alternative I think you've got something fucked up going on with your priorities.

Also it's kinda funny when people comment on the aforementioned shitposts with some variation of "see, the usage of AI art robs it of all humor because the thing that makes shitposts funny is when you consider the fact that someone would spend so much time and effort in something so stupid" because like. Yeah that is part of the humor SOMETIMES but also people share and laugh at low effort shitposts all the time. Again you're constructing a definition that you don't actually believe in anywhere outside of this type of conversations. Just say you don't like that it's AI art because you think it's morally wrong and stop being disingenuous.

So yeah, this is pretty much everything I believe about the topic.

I don't "defend" AI art, but my opposition to it is firmly rooted in my principles, and that means I refuse to uncritically accept any anti-AI art argument that goes against those same principles.

If you think not accepting and parroting every Anti-AI art argument I encounter because some of them are ideologically rooted in things I disagree with makes me indistinguishable from "AI techbros" you're working under a fucked up dichotomy.

[risuola]

CALL IT DOUBLE TROUBLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU, who have a habit of sharing everything

It’s been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend Gojo and a Halloween party led to your reconnection. It was cool to see him again, although your break-up was messy. What turned out to be a plot twist, was that he now has a handsome best friend and together, they are deadly.

cw: smut, exes to lovers, strangers to lovers, threesome, double penetration, praise, cum play, oral (f & m receiving), su*cide is mentioned (no description, just brief mention), reader discretion is advised — 6k words

masterlist

a/n: with that post I'm concluding the kinktober - sorry about the delay! work overwhelmed me, it sucked the life out of me, but I'll be getting back to writing now, so stay tuned! also, we hit 1300 followers, so I just want to say thank you so much for being here and reading the shit I post!

You were never that big on parties – you found them mostly annoying with the masses pushing and pulling all around you, drunk assholes that never seem to understand how consent works and even more drunk girls, that throw themselves at anyone slightly attractive. At least that’s how you remember every party you were on during your college years. You experienced firsthand how much effort men can put into chasing a hem of a mini skirt and you also saw in real life, how women were flexing their assets just to get into the pants they want. Unfortunately, usually pants that were in the biggest demand, were coincidentally belonging to your boyfriend. Uh, yeah, maybe that’s why you don’t really like parties.

Dating Satoru Gojo was a blessing, in some parts – he was just lovely to you. He was caring, to some extent, he was sweet-talking you into everything he wanted, and his arrogance always seemed to fly right over your head, but you loved him for longer than he deserved. You trusted him to not sleep with those eagerly spreading girls and he never did. At least that’s what you like to believe. Flirting with them – that was a different story. Satoru was an attention whore, really. He was basking in the gazes glued to him, the salivating mouths were feeding his already enormous ego and he seemed to have the time of his life pulling the strings of those poor, naïve girls that every time believed him when he told them they are just so pretty. His crystalline blue eyes were capable of turning lesbians into straight and straights into gay. The number of suggestive pictures he posed for flooded your social media each time after the parties you attended with him, and not one of those pictures he’s ever taken with you. And then, after leaving the frat houses and clubs, he would tell you how lucky you are to have him, how all of those silly girls were offering him their pussies oh so eagerly. He’d tell you how they envied you. All while he’d fuck you. You spent two years with him, then came the break-up and just as everything that involved Satoru was messy – so was your parting.

You really had no pleasure in partying, after freeing yourself from the toxicity of Gojo, you finally found peace. You flew through college with ease and after it ended, you found yourself quite a nice job – you were okay without attending any kinds of alcohol and loud music related people gatherings. That’s until Shoko called you earlier that month, practically begging you to pay her a visit on Halloween. She was in the city, having her family house all to her disposal due to her family being on a trip somewhere warm. It was a party where all of your college, mutual friends were going to be, a little reconnection if you will and she insisted you show up as well. It really sounded lovely to see where all of your friends landed in lives. With some you still had a regular contact, but some just went their ways and you rarely crossed paths with them, so you agreed to be there. That was a perfect opportunity to catch up and you were excited.

For some unknown reason, not even once you considered Gojo to be there as well. You just kind of pushed the memory of him to the back of your head, you removed him from the picture of your mutual circle of friends and completely you forgot that he’ll most likely be there as well. You realized it when Shoko asked you about him.

“Have you seen Gojo already?”, her tone was quite cautious when she mentioned the name to you, and with the way you looked at her from above your dying cigarette, she spoke again, “You know he’s gonna be there as well, don’t you?”

“Guess I blacked out that possibility,” you mumbled, shrugging softly to shake off the uneasiness of the thought and killing the cig in the sink before throwing it away. “No, I haven’t seen him and I hope it will stay that way.”

“Oh, you’re still wounded after him?”

“No, Sho, I’m not wounded,” you grabbed yourself a red cup from the array on one of the tables in the kitchen. You had no idea what concoction of liquid courage was inside every each of them, but you really couldn’t care less. If that was one of your first parties in years, you were not going to be picky and you trusted Shoko enough to not have death in those cups. “I’m really not. Thing is… I don’t know, it’s been so many years, I’m not really sure what to even tell him. We broke up in a mess that wasn’t addressed ever since, so you know.”

“Yeah, right, I remember the insanity of that action. Gojo was haunting my dreams for two weeks after the suicidal stunt he pulled off.” Ieiri flinched at the memory but laughed right after realizing how stupid all of that was. “He was a drama queen, we have to give him that.”

“See?”

“Well, you’ll most likely see him anyway, so just a hi will be good.”

“Noted.”

She left you to greet someone, and you shook your head, hoping to get rid of the flashbacks, but they were inevitable, you guessed it. Long time after ending things with Gojo you couldn’t find peace after what happened. You think you will forever remember the argument that unraveled after you told him you’re breaking up with him. There was so much screaming, your head pounded with pain for two days straight after that. Nothing more than accusing of the most bizarre shits and poison was spilling from his mouth when, for the first time, Satoru Gojo was informed that someone else is leaving him. Usually, it was him who ended things up, it was him who was cutting the strings and he was too immature back then to come to terms that other people are also entitled to just go away. You remember he went completely feral, almost psychotic as he was laughing at some point, throwing ironic insults at you as if it was gonna make you stay. He had to prove a point that it’s not you who want to leave him. It’s him who want to break up and you just accidentally happened telling him that before he managed to do so. After that, he threatened you that he will kill himself and he made it everybody’s problem – you had to know it, Shoko had to know it and every single one of your friends had to know it as well. You heard from Ieiri that after about three weeks he got back to being his usual arrogant playboy, as if he didn’t just cause drama of the century. He moved on. Traumatized everyone around him, but moved on nonetheless. Now you found the situation kind of funny. You were just kids and you were not meant to be together. That’s just how life works and you wondered sometimes if Satoru learned a little more life after that or did he stay the same.

Sighing again, you took the cup and slipped in between people in the living room, stepping outside to breathe some fresh air on the terrace, thankful that no one was there. Or so you thought and no wonder you almost jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice right next to you.

“Fire?” He asked, after a moment of watching you search for the lighter in the pockets of your makeshift schoolgirl uniform. The unlit cigarette in your mouth betraying what you were looking for.

His tone was soft, saccharine sweet and calm at the same time and as you looked up at him, it somewhat matched the picture that met your eyes. The man was tall and broad, dressed all in black with dress pants and a hoodie. His sleeves half up, exposing the veiny forearms as he was keeping his lighter visible, ready to give you a hand.

“Yes, please,” you replied finally, leaning into the fire he opened and with relief you take the first breath in. You were not a smoker in your day-to-day life. One pack of cigarettes lasted you a year, but it was Shoko’s influence that today made you poison your lungs more than usual. “Thanks.”

“I’m Suguru. Geto Suguru,” he introduced himself, offering you his palm and you gave it a short squeeze, telling him your own name. You couldn’t find his face in your memories, and you’d like to think that such handsome features would tattoo themselves into your brain in one way or another. He had to come with someone else, you figured. Probably a boyfriend or a husband even. You couldn’t care less about asking. “Enjoying the party?”

“I’m not big on parties, really,” you shrugged, keeping your gaze away from him because hell, he made it so easy to stare with his long luscious, black hair resting over his shoulders and back, half tied up in a little bun just to get them out of his face. You couldn’t tell what his costume was, he had some kind of alternative style going on, slightly rocker vibes with his pierced ears and silver chains hanging from his neck, but it might have as well be his usual style – he looked good in it. He most certainly looked like a big, red flag but hell was the flag attractive.

“I see. Well, I’m not either,” he confessed, huffing out a greyish cloud of smoke out of his lungs and by the smell of it, you could tell it wasn’t nicotine.

“What you’re smoking?”

“Weed, why? Wanna try it?” It was an offer that you should politely say no to, but it was your first and probably last party in a while, so you asked yourself why not and took the joint from his fingers.

“So, you’re here with someone?” you questioned, just to keep the conversation going once you gave him the smoke back. You could feel the unfamiliar but somehow pleasant burn in your lungs after the drag you took and slowly you blew the fume out. Suguru found the view attractive. Sharing a joint with you felt a little more intimate than it should have, the way your lips wrapped around the brownish paper made him wonder how would they look wrapped around something else. Thoughts like this shouldn’t bloom in his head right after he’s met you, not when he’s an adult man, not a stupid kid anymore, but some things couldn’t be stopped.

“Yeah,” he inhaled once more, deeply enough to kill the joint and throw it away. You watched for a moment how he kept the smoke in his lungs, letting it go after a moment. The cloud escaping through his mouth and nose in a soft stream. Fuck, what a gorgeous man. Whoever was the girl that got him had to be lucky. “You know him, he told me about you.”

Oh, never mind.

“He? Ah, fuck, don’t tell me you came here with that idiot,” you reached down for your cup that few moments prior you put on the ground while searching for a lighter.

“Ow, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

And there he was. You wondered where that tower of an asshole hid.

Once you look back at Geto, there was also Satoru. He was standing next to his friend slash partner, with his forearm propped over Suguru’s shoulder as he looked at you from above the black glasses, with the very familiar grin painted on his face. Gojo changed a lot since you last saw him. He was now buffier, seemed even taller than you remembered, and his facial features matured – his jaw became more square, eyes a little more lidded and even the smirk on his lips seemed less playboy-ish and more menacingly manly. He lost his princess looks and became a man. You wondered if his character changed as well, because you could still see him using his looks to take what he wanted.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned, eyeing him up and down. His clothes were almost exactly the same as Geto’s – only difference being the light color and the fact his sweatshirt had no hood. What he was wearing completely contrasted to what his friend had on and it made sense if they were here together. Black and white, like yin and yang. You had no idea if they were here as friends or lovers, but either way, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You sure do,” Satoru shook his head, his smile now more friendly as he approached you, entrapping you in a hug that surely took you by surprise. “It’s good to see you, beautiful.”

“You too,” you guessed, not completely convinced about what you just said but you let it be.

“I’m sorry. I have to say it before you run away from me. I’m really sorry, I was a dick when we were dating,” Gojo’s voice reached your ears directly, but you had a hard time believing what you were hearing. He was never a type to apologize for anything. Please, sorry and thank you is a set of words that you were certain he never used and yet there he was, saying just that. He really evolved. Or he wanted something.

“Yeah, you were. Hope you’re not anymore,” you chuckled softly, brushing your hand over his side.

“I try not to be,” he confessed quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck before letting go of you. He shouldn’t have kiss you like that, but the feeling of longing was way stronger than him. Even if for a moment, he had to just have a little taste of you.

Ever since you broke up, Gojo had no idea how much he missed having you in his arms. Up until that night he was okay with some random girls coming into and getting out of his bed with no strings attached. He seemed to be unable to form a lasting relationship after you, you were his first and last girlfriend that he committed to for so long, no matter how poorly. Even if he was nothing but an asshole to you, he often wished to marry you back in the college. Even if he couldn’t possibly show you how much he cared, because his childish behaviors were standing in the way of him reaching your heart properly, he really thought you will be the one and only in his life and even if he seemed to move on so quickly after you broke up with him, it was only for show. A cover up for the thunderstorm that was raging inside his chest, a band aid over the bleeding wound. No other girl was able to even half-fill the emptiness you left in his heart.

You were special to him and it thrilled him to the core when for the first time he heard from Shoko that you agreed to be there, because if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t show up as well. His time for partying finished along with his fourth year of college, when he realized there was less and less fun in drinking alcohol and forcing himself into flirting. When it came to you, he had never needed to force himself to do anything. He was just an immature kid when you dated, but he loved the time you gave him.

And now, you were still fitting perfectly into his body. As if he was made from memory foam that still remembered your shape. Now, you were still just as beautiful and breathtaking as he remembered you. In your little, schoolgirl mini skirt, thigh-high socks and a white button up shirt with a loosened tie you looked way sexier than you had a reason to. It’s been quite some time since he was that aroused from just looking at someone and you made him harder than he thought is possible. Fuck, what you were doing to him?

“So, what do you do now? Still living from party to party and from girl to girl?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. It was strong and it really was better for you to take it in slowly, but there was a certain burn of nervousness tied to meeting your ex that you needed to drown.

“No, it’s in the past,” Satoru replied, inviting you inside, where all three of you found a nice place to sit on one of the couches. You landed between the two men. “I took the lead of my father’s company, Suguru’s my partner in crime. We’re doing good, I don’t party anymore. Honestly, if Shoko didn’t give me a sign that you will be there, I wouldn’t probably step by.”

“Oh, so you came to haunt me,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Yeah, kind of. Couldn’t reach you before and wanted to sort this whole mess out. I’m usually cool with having enemies, but you’re not someone I want to have as enemy.”

You gave his words a soft roll of your eyes. Maybe few years back you’d let yourself be sugarcoated into believing him, but not now. Maybe, just maybe, he matured a little, but some things will never change. Gojo was a flirt, is a flirt and probably will always be a flirt. But hell, was he cute. You cursed his innate ability to attract you from a mile.

“Sure, whatever,” you shrugged and the conversation after that was flowing nicely. You got to know Suguru, you learned who he is and why did he stick with Satoru. It was a friendship they developed that kept them together and maybe it was thanks to Geto that your ex wasn’t so much of an asshole anymore. Maybe it’s the brunette’s calm personality that somewhat grounded the playboy. Or maybe it was all an illusion. Yea, it had to be an illusion. There was no way that these two six-foot-three giants were not causing some troubles.

Yeah, they were a trouble. Double trouble, to be exact, and you got to learn that when the doors of one of many bedrooms on the floor closed behind you. You don’t even know how and why you agreed to go with them anywhere in the first place. You had no idea how on earth did Satoru sweet-talked you into fucking him again. For the old time’s sake, my ass. And more important, how did he sweet-talked you into fucking not only him, but also Suguru? At the same time?! You were not built for this, that’s for sure.

“Let’s have fun like we always did, yeah?” Gojo had this typical, shit-eating grin stretched on his face, when he was pulling you by the wrist onto the bed. Geto took his time and lit up another joint, opting to just stand and watch for now. He had a smirk on, his eyes were fixed on you, and you could tell that they weren’t new to sharing a woman. It really was obvious they did that before.

You had no time to think if that surprises you at all. Satoru was a stranger to patience. He never enjoyed waiting and always went straight for what he wanted, and this time was no exception.

“God, you look so fucking hot as a schoolgirl,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck, nibbing and kissing wet marks onto your skin whilst his fingers were already dealing with buttons of your white shirt. Your body acted on its own accord, responding to the red stains of his lips and the cold touch of his fingers with excitement that you felt for the last time when you were in college. It bothered you that you still were so receptive to the way he feels on you, you thought that you’re way over the Gojo effect but seems like you were gravelly wrong. “What a naughty one,” Satoru chuckled, his voice bordered a moan when he finally opened your shirt and your shapely tits, hugged beautifully by a lace bra entered his field of view. “Fuck, I missed those.”

“You’re talking too much,” you grabbed him by the hair, tugging the snow-white strands at the base of his neck and pushing his face down your neck and onto your chest, hoping it will shut him up. That was the issue with your ex. He really was a phenomenal lay but he was just talking so damn much. That was what ultimately pushed you over the edge when you were together back in the day. You just couldn’t stand listening about other women while he was with you.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, sucking a red spot onto one of your tits, earning himself another tug on the hair.

“Don’t mark me, idiot,” you warned him, but it was already too late and both of you knew it.

“My, my… so nervous. Let me help you relax,” Gojo smiled wide and made you lay flat on the bed. It took him no time to find his place between your thighs and before you even got a chance to react, he was already pulling your panties off of you. For a split second, your mind got distracted by the subtle scent of weed that’s filling the air. The smell that reminded you that it’s not only you and your ex in the room, but also another person.

“Don’t worry about me,” Geto smiled. Something mischievous lingered over his lips as he did before he took another drag. The joint between his fingers slowly but surely becoming smaller as he was saturating his lungs with the fumes, only to breathe them out after a moment.

“Are you not going to join?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking into a whine once Satoru flicked his tongue over your clit, reminding you how well he spoke the language of your body. He was fluent in your pleasure, you were never sure if it came to him with experience or was he just naturally gifted, but either way, he had a skill and was proud of it. He began eating you out like he was starving for the past decade. His tongue worked the puffy nub of nerves all the way around, he sucked and licked, slurped and kissed your cunt, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. He was purring while between your legs, his long fingers already working their way into your hole. The stretch was delicious, the symphony of his mouth and hands was slowly driving you insane.

“You’re so sweet,” Satoru mumbled, taking the pleasure away to smear some wet kisses along your inner thighs. “She’s so incredibly sweet, Suguru, you have to taste her,” he added, accentuating the thought with a bite onto the fat of your thigh. His friend just chuckled, making his way towards you and he handed you his half smoked joint.

“I’d love to,” Geto replaced your ex between your thighs. He kept looking into your eyes when he opened his mouth, presenting you with his pierced tongue. Little, metallic ball in the middle of the muscle glistened in the artificial lighting and it made you moan out loud, when he swiped it along your slit, gathering your juices. There was something absolutely intimidating about his calm demeanor, something nearly diabolic but it was exactly what attracted you to him. He was complete opposite to Satoru. He wasn’t bright and loud; his eyes weren’t big and vibrant. He looked mysterious, he kept himself quieter, his eyes kept the focus that Gojo couldn’t achieve. They really were made for each other.

“Oh god—,” your eyes nearly rolled back as he began working on your swollen clit ruthlessly. You had no idea if it was because of the piercing or was it just his skill, but it felt even better then when the snow-white was between your thighs. Or maybe it was just you being so turned on by him.

“You like it?”, your ex asked, grinning as he was taking the time to undress himself. “Knew you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You spared him the comment, losing the track of thoughts in the way Suguru was making you feel. You could have sworn you never felt something like this, he was just incredible with the way his tongue was engraving his own name into your clit. Cold metal of his piercing doubled down the pleasure you were receiving, contrasting with the heat of his muscle.

Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curled in, and you felt yourself quickly falling down the hole of ultimate lust. Euphoria was rushing through your veins; your heart was drumming in your chest as the smoke was leaving your lungs after the drag you took from the joint in your hand. Suguru was pushing you over the edge with such ease it felt illegal. You could feel him grinning proudly from his spot between your legs, you could feel his fingers gripping your hips with bruising strength, keeping them in place while he was slurping your soul straight from your weeping pussy.

Your orgasm exploded and you called out Suguru’s name. He didn’t stop. He kept drinking, thirsty for more of you as your juices coated his tongue and the bottom of his handsome face.

“You really do taste fucking sweet,” he commented, getting up and crawling above you. His lips were on yours the moment he reached your face. He tasted the smoke and you tasted yourself in that kiss. It didn’t last long, but the intensity of it made you almost dizzy. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

 It took just few moments until you were completely bare underneath the heavy gaze of two men around you. Satoru was just in his underwear, the tent in them painfully apparent and you knew him well enough that he won’t be able to wait much longer, but what bothered you was the fact that Suguru was still completely clothed. He looked sexy in his dark outfit, but he can look sexy in it later.

“Aren’t you a tease—” you muttered, once he got up from the bed to drown the rest of the joint in what little of alcohol was left in one of your cups on the bedside table. “Take this off.” You demanded, coming up to your knees and pushing his hoodie up.

“How demanding,” he laughed but complied and you managed to just blink twice before his god-like figure presented itself to you. A muscular, large body beautifully decorated with a dragon tattoo that wrapped its tail around his right bicep and spread on his back. You couldn’t decide what to focus on – his impressive musculature, the ink on his skin or the fact that even though he still had his pants on, you could already feel yourself salivating.

Satoru was right behind you, swiping the angry tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick and making you shiver from the touch. He then pushed his girth into you, stretching you impossibly and pulling a quiet, whiny fuck straight out of your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve been having sex with anyone, not to say anyone with that size, but you couldn’t deny that the burn was delicious. It set all your senses on fire, the heatwave washed over you and once Gojo went with the first thrust, it reminded you how much you missed the physical act of intimacy with him.

“Can’t focus, pretty girl?”, Suguru brought your attention back to himself. His long fingers gently gathered all of your hair into a messy ponytail, and you got the hint immediately. As on cue, you unbuckled his pants, pushing them down almost too eagerly. “Good girl.”

The praise in his tone got you weak, you were already becoming a mess from how perfectly Satoru was fucking you right now, pounding his hips against yours in the mind-numbing manner. His cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you with each long stroke and that was enough to make you almost incapable of thinking straight, but your hands and mouth acted on its own.

Geto watched how your lips wrapped around his dick. The sight of you taking him into your mouth with such hunger was something he wanted to engrave onto his brain and if the picture was amazing, then there was no word to describe the feeling itself. Your soft, plush lips felt divine brushing along his sensitive shaft, your tongue dancing around his length made him almost lose his composure. You were a sight. And you made him feel so good, he could feel himself twitching in the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. You were sucking him as if your life was depending on it, as if it was your last supper and you wanted to devour it and every time his plump tip hit the back of your throat, he could feel you taking control over him.

“Isn’t she amazing?”, Gojo mumbled from behind you. His grip remained iron on your hips, the bruising force being the only thing that was grounding you now. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your juices were running down your thighs and the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other were filling the room.

“Oh, she is,” Geto confirmed, applying some force onto your head. The tug on your hair was enough to send you overboard and the vibration of your throat once you moaned were enough for him as well. You couldn’t tell who came first, and frankly, you couldn’t care less about it, as long as it felt so damn good.

“I, fuck— I told you,” Satoru panted out. His hips moved slower as he was sloppily riding the high out. You licked the cock in front of you clean, satisfied with the first course but hungry for more.

You shouldn’t allow all of this to happen. There was not a single argument that could justify everything that was happening right now – you shouldn’t sneak out to god-knows-whose room in your friend’s house and you absolutely shouldn’t sneak out there with not only your ex-boyfriend but also his friend. You couldn’t even remember how you agreed to that. Why have you agreed to that? You had no idea. Was it to talk?

You wouldn’t exactly call the way your body was being stuffed full by two cocks at the same time talking. You were squeezing Suguru’s shoulders as he was thrusting his hips up against yours. His body below you, laying flat on the bed made for a canvas for your nails to leave marks, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was kissing you with a mixture of passion and laziness, a smirk stayed prominent on his lips as he was swallowing your moans. The subtle taste of weed in his mouth got you wanting more of him. He felt perfect in every way, his movements were setting your nervous system on fire as the heat was spreading over your entire body, radiating from your core. You could feel Satoru’s fingers teasing your clit, you could feel his lips smearing wet trails along your spine. The way his hips were moving seemed to be perfectly in sync with the brunette.

You were so full of them, you never felt something like this before. The initial pain you felt when Gojo pushed his girth into your asshole was long gone now as he was pounding into you in complete unison with how Geto was moving. The sensation of being so incredibly full turned your brain into a heated mush, your body was trembling between them, electrocuted time after time with a sharp waves of white pleasure. Your vision was blurry, the stars covered most of it. You could no longer tell whose hands were where and your thighs were wet and sticky from all the seed that was being pumped into you, gushing out with every piston of their hips.

“You’re so perfect for us,” someone told you. A low, rasped out voice resounded right next to your ear, followed by a harsh bite onto your shoulder and the sudden wave of new pain that radiated from it pushed you over the edge. You were speeding, falling with no parachute. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as the climax was overtaking you. “Such a good girl, you’re making so much mess.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, gasping for air as their thrusts picked a pace. You couldn’t form any coherent sentence as they were fucking the soul out of your body. Right after you came, they both came as well. Their cum coated your insides and leaked onto your thighs, dripping down as they pumped into you some more.

Gojo was first to pull out, spreading your cheeks and admiring how his white overflown your hole. The menacing grin spread across his face as he gripped your hips and lifted you off Suguru’s cock. The long-haired man sat up as you, led by your ex’s hands turned to straddle Geto’s lap. Your back was facing his chest as he pulled you back onto his shaft. All of his length sank right into your ass, pulling a moan right from your chest.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Satoru was in front of you, admiring for a moment your bouncing figure before his long fingers slipped into your cunt, curling in a way that got him pressing onto your oversensitive sweet spots. “Open your mouth for me.”

You barely registered his words, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. His cum coated digits slid right through your lips and you sucked on them, twirling your tongue around and tasting the mixture of your juices and their seeds. Suguru’s hands were kneading your breasts as his friend was playing with the mess between your thighs.

There was something deeply erotic in a way the white-haired man kept your gaze up. How he looked right into your eyes while you were being fucked by his best friend, how he enjoyed the way you gave them your body to play however they wanted. And it felt even more erotic when Satoru licked the lone drop of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth only to kiss you right after.

Geto was still slamming his pelvis up and you got stuck in the realm of pleasure, hanging somewhere between the movements of the cock in your ass and the lips over your own. You could feel your thighs trembling. Your body, still oversensitive from the last orgasm and yet, already entering the state of another. The wave of lustful relief now flowing dangerously close to your core, the knot in your stomach holding just barely and you squeezed Satoru’s hair, tugging at them harshly. You were struggling to breathe through the heavy kiss he was laying on your lips, but the sensation of it rendered you unable to fight it.

And then it hit you once again. The man below you filled you to the brim, tearing down the last bits of composure you had and your world shattered once the final climax. You felt as if the lust and desire were steaming off of all three of you. The breaths were mixed and the tastes concocted. As all three of you fell onto the bed, blissfully satisfied, you began to slowly regain your mind to the sound of a soft chuckle from your left side. Satoru. He had a habit of laughing when he was fulfilled – a sign of his happiness, the state nearing high. There was some gratefulness in it as well.

“How are you feeling?”, the question came from the right side, where Suguru seemed to already plan how to take care of the entire mess. He kissed your shoulder softly.

“Good,” you replied to him, watching as he gathered himself up from the bed.

“You rest a little bit longer; I’ll go get washed first and then you two.”

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

So pretending Viv didn't retcon her own fucking lore drop on twitter by being like "omg!! If it wasn't obvioussssss, he was lying. Silly guy. Isn't the sin of WRATH such a egoistical, self absorbed PRIDEFUL guy"—

I'm very into this idea that Satan, and the Imps and all the Hellborn are the indigenous people of Hell.

Which would mean, that Lucifer got banished to a foreign land, immediately claimed ownership of it, allowed/told his wife to manipulate everyone with her singing, and then proceeded to flood Hell with human Sinner's that he also made legally above all the Hellborn. And then got...bored?? And quit actively being king to go make ducks and emotionally abuse his daughter.

Like, holy shit is Lucifer being a metaphor for white colonialism fucking INSANE. The running assumption (and Viv's bullshit on twitter) has been that Lucifer and the other Sin's were together as a group. That the circus theme, and the rings, and the Goetia was just the world they built. But, if Satan and the Sin's were just the indigenous people who lived there, that sure as fuck makes the circus theme more creepy?

Circuses have historically been horrifying displays of human cruelty. Human trafficking, the buying and selling of people with dwarfism as toys or pets, physical torture and extreme conditions, racisim, rape, animal abuse, just like...bad stuff. There were probably some circuses that were fine, but the vast majority of the time it wasn't done humanely or with any dignity to the people performing.

Lucifer, showed up and just like, forced the Sin's into a Circus they didn't want to be apart of? The Circus isn't a thing anymore, because Lucifer isn't as into it, and all of the Sin's seem perfectly fine not doing it anymore.

Thing is, who the fuck was this Circus for?

The only thing I can think of is Lucifer wanting to feel in control again after being banished, and trying to establish the Sinner's as the deserving and dominate "race".

He would've forced Queen B to humiliate and abuse her hellhounds to do...tricks and dances on balls or whatever the fuck, to show how lowly and animalistic they are. Hellhounds aren't like Sinner's. Sinner's are just people with animal traits, they're REAL PEOPLE unlike these dogs.

He would've forced Ozzie to make his Hellborn and Imps to do dangerous and unnecessary acts. The big difference between Hellborn and Sinner's, is that the Hellborn can actually die. So when the Sinner's see a Imp fall from a trapeze act, or end up set on fire and hurt, they'll see that they're inherently better because they aren't that frail. And again, historically circuses had a lot of human trafficking, sex, labor or otherwise. Ozzie runs the sex industry, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was overlap there in the start.

Mamm and Levi seem to be on the infrastructure side, building and maintaining the society and rings everyone lives on. We KNOW that Imps and Hellborn are underprivileged and lack resources. Hellhounds are forced into shelters where they're thrown out the second the little social funding they have runs out. Imps are basically constantly struggling, and never seem to have stable lives. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the support and care that the Hellborn need are being used to "fix" the "overpopulation" issue that Lucifer caused.

And Satan. Holy shit is forcing Satan, the original king to Hell, and the creator of the main indigenous peoples of Hell, to be the fucking "Law" absolutely horrifying. The fact that Satan is in such a high position of power(supposedly) and he's here, making an "example" of a Imp to get the bureaucracy off his ass and move on with his life. Well, if the god of Imps says that they're all disgusting rapists who are after the poor, innocent white Goetia then that must be true!!!! HORRIFYING. WHAT THE FUCK.

Lucifer forced the original gods of Hell to debase, and humiliate their peoples for the entertainment of his Sinner's, and then got fucking bored and left the circus to hide away in his castle. No wonder Ozzie is a consent freak and B is so concerned about people self harming.

There's a world, where Hazbin Hotel actually takes RISKS, and tries to do something interesting. But Viv backtracks every time. And also would never allow her villian characters to be...ya know....villainous. But Luci can't do more then be kinda a little abusive to his daughter but only in a sad way, otherwise he's not a gooodddd guyyyyyy nooooooo.

Anyway, I'm very attached to this indigenous Satan au. Fuck Lucifer, give the Imps their fucking land back you colonizing bitch, and let Satan be the king of Pride again. And stop forcing them to fucking celebrate your dad's son by claiming it's actually just about celebrating youuuu and your sinnn. Shut the fuck up you goddamn weirdo.

[thegnomelord]

Soap and #12 with cismale reader. I was thinking they have mutual feelings for each other but not in a relationship yet, and some obliviousness mixed in for drama lol

Sure mate, though it ended up more drama than oblivious idiots in love lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: "What, did you think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" "Let's be real, you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

CW:NSFW, Sub Soap, Top male reader, back alley sex, semi-public sex, mild fighting, miscommunication, Soap being a jealous hoe(again)

You and Soap have a . . . thing. You're not quite sure what to call it; You're just comrades, friends, who go out for drinks after every mission and end up messily making out in the back of a bar only to get kicked out when you two inevitably get frisky and near an indecent exposure charge. But it's fine, because it gives you the excuse to go to base and fuck on the bed, or the floor, or the table, or against the wall, or any other semi-flat surface.

But you're just friends. . . or, that's what tell yourself every time your heart pitifully clenches in your chest when Soap smiles, when he laughs and pats your shoulder, when he moans your name so sweetly as you pound into him, when he looks at you as if his world starts and ends with you; because what would a bloke like Soap want with you other than sex? So you try to drown the ache for him by going out with other people, but it's never the same— not in the way they sound, in the way they move, in the way you feel.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks you're his and his alone.

"I'm telling yea lads," Johnny says as he knocks back a beer, a lovey dovey look in his eyes like he's a lovesick puppy. "Ah've locked him down this time." He grins, and Ghost swears if he has to listen one more time about how big your cock is or how Johnny can still feel you from last time— he'll shoot you both.

"Uhuh," Gaz rolls his eyes, amused at his antics but also happy that he's finally found someone. "Yeah, su-" Something catches Gaz's eyes and he turns his head, the color draining from his face. "-ummmm."

Ghost's eyes quickly flicker over to where he's looking, "Look at that," Ghost gives a rough snort, "Locked your man down so good he's swappin' spit without you."

Soap's immediately sober as a nun, his neck audibly cracking when he swings around to look at you. The sight of you making out with a random girl across the bar has Soap's thoughts turning in his head like rusted cogs, the world almost slowing down to force him to feel all the emotions his brain spits out; Surprise comes first, like being drenched in ice cold water, disgust making his blood feel like tar at the thought of you touching someone else the same way you touch him, hot anger barreling straight through it to make fingers twitch for the trigger of a gun.

But it's the meek hurt that forces his legs to move, striding across the bar like he's on a war path. A rough hand on your shoulder makes you break off the kiss, your world spinning like a kaleidoscope from the booze and sudden force turning you around. Your eyes finally settle on familiar blue ones, but they're cold like the deepest part of the arctic. "Johnny?" You ask.

His name on your lips only makes his scowl deeper, a bruising grip on your arm as he tugs you, "We need tae talk," He spits, glaring at the poor girl you'd been making out with like she's riddled with plague.

You're not given even a second to argue before he's yanking you out the back exit into the alley between the bar and another building. A second later he's roughly slamming you into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs with a forearm against your throat and ignoring as you choke softly. "Thae fock's wrong wit' yea!" He snarls into your face, more animal than man.

Rapidly depleting oxygen forces your brain to flood your veins with adrenaline and suddenly you're moving, harshly elbowing him in the stomach and ramming him into the stone wall behind him you swear the rock cracks. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

He tries to push against you, your arms scrambling for a solid hold until you end up in a stand still, "What's wrong-" He shoves his face into yours, nearly breaking your nose while hissing like a feral cat, "-is thaet ye're shacking up with some tramp."

"So what!" You demand, a low grunt leaving your lips as you attempt to keep him pinned when he squirms like an eel, "We're just casual-" You force out those words, trying to ignore the stab to the chest your heart gives.

"Casual?" He scoffs and with a swift jerk of his head smashes his skull into yours. You stumble away, black spots dancing in your vision and that's all he needs to grab and switch your positions, pinning you to the wall. "What? D'yea think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" He demands, a bit of a traitorous hurt making his his voice crack, face pinched in pain.

"Let's be real-" Copper and iron invade your tastebuds, drawing attention to the slow stream of blood trickling from your nose, "-you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

You feel his body tense, but keep your eyes open as you expect him to punch you, to kick you, to do something to prove what you have is just temporary; pointless bliss.

"Then how'bout ah give yea a clearer message-" He leans in to lick trail of blood on your face before capturing your lips in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You wretch your hand free to tangle your fingers in his short hair, bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, reciprocating with just as much intensity as you bite his bottom lip until his blood floods your mouths. "Got it through yer thick skull now?" He asks, pulling back just a bit to stare into your eyes.

You don't know what 'it' is, but the kiss and the roughness makes heat burn through your veins, one quick flicker of your eyes confirming he's sporting the same problem in his pants as you are. "Think I'll need more convincing."

Soap yelps when you turn him around, pinning his chest to the cold wall as your hands slide down to his belt. You stall for a second to give him a way out, but he just growls, "Get on with it," So you quickly undo his pants, shoving his jeans and boxers just down beneath the swell of his arse.

"Slut," You chuckle when you catch sight of the black plug nestled between his cheeks, the skin near it still glistening with lube from how messily he'd prepped himself, "Needed me so bad did you?" You ask as you pull the plug out, putting it into your pocket as you push the head of your cock against his fluttering opening.

"'s cause ah love yea, fockin' git." He growls, his words making your brain crash.

"Repeat that," You say, softer, kinder than you usually operate, pressing against him until you're covering his back completely. "Say that again."

He notices your change, the ice in his eyes melting away enough to let him tug your head closer to kiss you, "I love you." The way he says it, like a prayer, like a sweet caress, has your heart melting into a puddle. A dingy back alley shouldn't be the place where you confess your love, but right now it feels like Paris.

"Love you too," You kiss him back and slide into him in one slow stroke, greedily swallowing down his sounds. You let him adjust before setting a hard pace like you know he loves, cock head scraping against his prostate with every thrust. "Really, really love you." You breathe out, watching his eyes lose focus as he lets out little 'ah, ah, ah's every time your hips meet.

"Bonnie, bonnie lad please-" He whines, resting his face against the dirty wall as he moans without shame, forgetting that anyone could walk in on you two and more than likely hear you across the single layer brick wall. "Fock, c'mon, give it to me."

"Yeah, gonna take care of you-" Your hand slides down to rub his cock, squeezing his base every time you bottom out and playing with his head when you draw your hips back so you can plunge back inside him, lust and love lighting up every synapse in your body. "Just say you love me again."

Johnny's eyes close as he falls into a barely comprehensible rambling of 'love you, love you, love you', his body shaking with a building heat in his stomach, precum rapidly lubing the glide of your hand as you fuck him in a harsh pace until with a sharp yell against his shoulder you cum inside him, Johnny following suit as he paints the dirty wall white with his cum.

You feel him collapse against you and have just enough strength left to support you both, though the wall does the brunt of the work. You breathe the same air as you try to get your bearings, both hearts beating in the same speed and rhythm, and Johnny whines when you attempt to shift, hole clenching greedily around you like his body doesn't want you to seperate.

"You know," You say when you've managed to catch your breath, nuzzling into the back of his neck, "There are easier ways to say you love me without biting my head off." You chuckle, as if your heart isn't beating a thousand miles per hour at the knowledge Soap loves you.

He swats at your head, "Oh awa' an bile yer heid." He growls such harsh words before kissing you softly, sharing a silent promise with you.

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

D23: Frozen content breakdown | Breakdown/ Analysis

What a day it was yesterday! So much content we were flooded with and especially for us with the Frozen 3 and 4 update! I'm sure you all know the latest deets but I would like it to break it all down and guess what it could all mean. So be prepared to read a lot! ❄️

[long post alert]

Frozen III logo

A couple of hours before the Frozen panel had begun, we were given a first look of the logo for Frozen 3:

It features the four elements symbols and two snowflakes too for Elsa and Anna as the fifth spirit. The III had a purple - pink gradient to it and the background had a spring scenery south blossom/ sakura trees and mountains far behind. Some of us predicted before that Frozen 3 would be set in Spring given Frozen being in winter/ summer and Frozen 3 in Autumn.

However, some people didn't believe this logo was real. But after the panel, Josh Gad put it on his stories and as a post on Instagram, the announcements and reveals made at the panel.

This must mean that it's real. But a more accurate, rendered logo was also revealed at the Panel and that Gad had also shared in his post.

So my conclusion is that the first one is a working title, a concept of what it would be like when it's promoted. The second one is a mix of the first Frozen logo and the second movie's logo combined being more 3D but still with a frozen effect. This logo is the official used rendered one whilst the first one is just a concept based on the implied spring theme of the movie. Both are real.

Frozen questions left unanswered

When the Panel began we were given a flood of questions on the board that were the questions the fans had after Frozen 2, aka the questions that were left unanswered. Here they are:

Who gave Elsa her powers?

Why doesn't Anna have powers?

Was there a fifth spirit before?

What kind of Queen will Anna be?

Will Kristoff be a King?

Do they [Anna & Kristoff] want kids?

Where are Kristoff's parents?

How did Kristoff meet Sven?

How can Sven be so old and still so virile?

Why is Olaf alive?

What about Marshmallow and the snowgies?

Is it “Hoo Hoo” or “You Hoo”?

What are Elsa's powers still growing?

Why are their castle ruins throughout Ahotohallan?

Where do the nature spirits come from?

Do we still need to beware of the Frozen Heart?

Who is the Frozen Heart?

What happened to Hans?

These questions will most likely be answered in Frozen 3 and 4, as they are confirmed to be a two part film. These are actually really good and interesting questions we have that we do need to have answered. I actually want to try and analyse (and answer them for fun!) them because some people might feel some have already answered so why the need to answer them again?

Who gave Elsa her powers?

We already know that Ahotohallan is where her powers come from. That's the source along with the other four spirits. But they probably felt like they didn't make it clear enough. Some people before Frozen 2 had theorized that there was a Snow Queen who gave Iduna something that caused Elsa to have powers. Maybe there's more to Ahotohallan than we know.

Why doesn't Anna have powers?

This isn't addressed in the movie other than the fact that Elsa and Anna are both the fifth spirit and the bridge which has two sides. But why doesn't Anna, I believe that's because the fifth spirit's role is to create balance between the powerful and the powerless (in a literal magical form). The fifth spirit was never just one being I don't think. It was always two to have one with powers and one without and have the two form a deep unbreakable bond so that humans and magical entities would look at them and see that though different, they can get along and have peace amongst each other, and live in harmony. If both were magical it would defeat the objective of creating peace between the two different types of beings

Was there a fifth spirit before?

I think yes because in the Myth VR on Disney plus, it was revealed that there was a fifth spirit before Elsa and Anna but after it created harmony with the other spirits and humans, it disappeared creating disharmony in the forest and caused the spirits to rage. Then the other four spirits managed to calm down until they were raged again by King Runeard's war between Arendelle and Northuldra. Even if this isn't canon I still believe there was one. I think it's important to know because it could be important with the journey Elsa and Anna next go on.

What kind of Queen will Anna be?

Her own kind of Queen. She will continue to bring peace and joy to Arendelle while also supporting the Northuldra tribe as her statues unveiling had suggested. She won't try to be Elsa. She's not Elsa. She's Anna. She may be the fifth spirit But whether or not she realises that she'll help maintain peace between magic and humans will Elsa's support too.

Will Kristoff be a King?

If Anna does abdicate from the throne then yes. To be exact he would be a king Consort. At the end of Frozen 2 we saw Anna greet the public as Queen and unveil the statue of her parents and kids. That wasn't the coronation which is confirmed and this confirms it too as it asks will he be king? and not is he king? I loved Elsa as Queen but she probably felt that she couldn't take care of Arendelle as she had to restore and look after Northuldra/ the enchanted forest and felt Anna deserved it after she had scared her and Arendelle twice without a doubt.

Do they [Anna & Kristoff] want kids?

That's a question that none of us thought of? Do they want kids? I think they do but will find it hard to do if there's threats and danger around. Anna definitely would be a lovely mother and Kristoff and lovable dad. But I don't think we'll see them have kids so soon, at least not in the beginning of the movie, like we won't immediately be introduced to them I don't think.

Where are Kristoff's parents?

A question we've been asking since the first movie. All we know is that he grew up as an ice harvester. He seems to have grown up independently with Sven. I can't even guess the answer because I'll probably be wrong anyway.

How did Kristoff meet Sven?

Another question regarding Kristoff's backstory we've been longing to see. It's nice to see they're including Kristoff's backstory now. The first two movies were about the sisters backstory and development arcs (and 3 and 4 continue that) but now we can finally learn about Kristoff!

How can Sven be so old and still so virile?

No clue! I never noticed that actually. I never thought of why. I don't know much about reindeer so I didn't know that Sven was so old yet so virile. Perhaps when he was young he was injured and the trolls may have healed him giving him a longer youthful life. I'm certain the trolls have a role in this if it's magic related.

Why is Olaf alive?

Why not how!! Another really interesting question that I can answer. We all know how he is alive because we saw Elsa bring him back to life but why was he brought back? He's still an important part of the sister bond and individually he has much more in him than we have seen. Plus he's Olaf and we love Olaf!

What about Marshmallow and the snowgies?

I believe they all too, along with the ice castle and all other permanent creations of Elsa, got restored either automatically after Elsa's return or by hand when Elsa got the chance. They too are as iconic as Olaf is. I hope they return in Frozen 3. They're so lovable and cute - it would be a fun addition to the movie.

Is it “Hoo Hoo” or “You Hoo”?

I always thought it was... “Yoo Hoo” because that's what people say. Hoo Hoo is an owl's line lol and one says that.

What are Elsa's powers still growing?

Just as we grow individually sometimes in height, in character, in what we feel, powers are no different. They grow as we grow inside. And Jen Lee has previously said that her powers will reach a new height in Frozen 3.

Why are their castle ruins throughout Ahotohallan?

I think they are referring to Ahotohallan as a castle and inside and out it looks ruined. During Show Yourself Elsa has to lift things up and add things to get across to the place where the memories are held. I theorize that the previous fifth spirit may have done something to Ahotohallan or to its power and caused chaos that caused Ahotohallan to have ruins in it. Ahotohallan probably was the previous fifth spirit's castle and when it went rouge Ahotohallan may have been left abandoned and ruined.

Where do the nature spirits come from?

Ahotohallan is where their powers are from. But perhaps it's more complicated than that and it needs to be addressed for lore reasons. There's more to Ahotohallan than we know.

Do we still need to beware of the Frozen Heart?

Oooooh!! My favourite question along with the next two. Do we? We must be if it's even a question at this point?

Who is the Frozen Heart?

Who? Frozen Heart is a person?! It was literally Anna in Frozen but metaphorically it was Elsa. Maybe someone else will be the Frozen Heart. Hans? Kristoff? A new character/ being?

What happened to Hans?

A question we've needed answering since Frozen and one that Hans fans have been trying to answer. His backstory based on official and unofficial media is that he has 12 brothers but they all or at least most of them treat him poorly along with his dad because he's the last child and last in line to the throne. That means, they think Hans as unworthy and unless of anything. So why did the Queen and King have another child? Probably as an accident child or just because. I'm sure the Queen is loving. He was sent back at the end of Frozen to his home, the Southern Isles so they can deal with him themselves and they did. As punishment they made him do chores like sweep up horse poop as seen towards the end of Frozen Fever before Elsa's giant snowball accidentally yet subconsciously hit him causing his major injuries. The southern Isles didn't immediately know where the snowball came from. But what happened to him after that? In a poster in the new Frozen Park in Hong Kong, it is revealed that Elsa and Anna invited the Southern Isles among other kingdoms to celebrate a year since Anna sacrificed herself to the Elsa and the Kingdom.

Hans couldn't come because he was injured. But his return is almost certain in Frozen 3 with his rise in unofficial/ canon media. Will he return as a villain or a redeemed hero is to be determined. I don't think he should return as a villain. If he did he would have taken his revenge out during Frozen 2, as he would have been recovered by then. Seeing the concept art of Frozen 3, which I'm about to go onto, it looks like we'll see mythical beings and a world bigger than Ahotohallan. Hans wouldn't fit as a villain in the expanded world of magic because he doesn't seem to be interested in magic in that greed sense. I think he'll be redeemed and help them in their new quest. Perhaps he does have tied with magic in his ancestry as we know nothing about his family.

All these questions are ones that the team feel like they need to answer in the next two movies and I think that's good. Along with showing something new, we get answers from questions we've long waited for too. And I think it's a good strategy for them to tell us the questions we've been asking so that they can answer it in the movies. They're letting us know that they can hear us and want to fulfil our wishes while telling a new story. It's good communication in my opinion.

Frozen 3 concept art and new release date

Jennifer Lee also revealed the concept art of Frozen 3. I'm sure there must've been dozens of art but this one may have been the direction they're headed in.

We have a beautiful calm colour palette that reminds me of dawn/ dusk of spring. Trees are on either side, golden light beams from behind a mystical palace in the left centre. Flowers and leaves present hinting at a Spring setting. Anna's on a horse with Olaf and Elsa on the Nokk on the river both heading to the palace-like place. The scene is set at night as the aurora borealis/ northern lights can be seen arising from the castle. Perhaps this castle has some connection to the northern lights. In the Lego Northern lights series, the trolls crystals are the ones to cause the northern lights or have a connection to them. I don't think the Lego series is canon but I do wonder if the trolls will have a role in this too.

Elsa and Anna are in their Frozen 2 attires, Anna in her travel one and Elsa in her fifth spirit one but with boots (for practical reasons). That doesn't mean that's their final look. Frozen 2's early concept art had Elsa and Anna in their Frozen looks. Olaf looks worried as he points to something off scene.

Just below the direction in which he points, in the river, lies a shadowy creature. It could be that that's the shadow of the creature Olaf points to. The creature appears to have horns and hold a staff/ spear with a sharp end.

Just below the palace-like place is a land. I was going to say Ahtohallan but the silhouettes are different.

So it seems like this place is unknown. If they went North in Frozen 2, perhaps Thai time they're going south, which is why Hans could appear. But that's just a guess.

During the panel it is also revealed that the release date is November 2027 having it moved back by a year from its original 2026 release date. 2027 seems quite far away just when we felt we were getting closer to Frozen 3 but we'll just have to be patient and hope we get some other Frozen content released meanwhile.

Frozen: Winter Festival short form series?

That's everything that was revealed regarding Frozen 3, but no word on the series that was revealed by dolls and their descriptions. I believe since the movie got delayed by a year, probably to spend more time developing the two part movies (which is a good thing so we avoid the mistakes caused by rush in production for Frozen 2), the short form series will be delayed by a year. That would mean the announcement could be closer to time in next year's D23. That or they wanted to announce the series later. The dolls are to be released in September and the series is said to be released this fall. That is of course unless they have delayed it by a year but we'll have to wait and see if anything gets said before September otherwise consider it delayed by a year (😭).

And that's all the information given to us for now. Frozen 3 looks so good and promising - the vibe of spring with a deeper fantasy element is making me extremely excited! New places, new seasons, new characters, expanded lore, possible character returns, new looks and more!! Can't wait!! And yeah though my patience is sad that Frozen 3 had been delayed by a year, I'm glad because it means they can spend more time on the movie, to develop it properly and not repeat the same mistake they made with Frozen 2 with no good planning and a rushed development to the run up of the movie.

And the Frozen: Winter Festival I'm also excited for. I think Frozen needs a canon series in its franchise.

The future looks big and bright for the franchise! ❄️

Any new info or details I have not mentioned please let me know! Any questions for me please feel free to drop them in the "Ask" box

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I see you and Gina have been flooded with annoying antis who think they can convince us that they aren't together anymore, but honey! I do not care! First there are real world problems going on so trying to find out if they're still together has been on the back burner for me. But also, I've been a larrie for so long that I've reached the plane of existence where antis can't reach me. I truly believe they're still together. So what if I'm wrong? I'm going to get sued? Who cares! And if I'm not wrong, then I hope Harry's getting pregnant again soon <3 I just have no energy to convince other people what I believe in. I just surround myself with other like minded larries and mind my business. And that's unfathomable for antis who can't believe their faves are gay.

Honestly, I know antis love to convince themselves that if definitive proof ever came out that Larry wasn’t real, that all Larries would go into an existential life crisis and forget how to function until all that was left of us was a twitching puddle of tears on the floor.

But in all seriousness, if Larry ever turns out not be real, here are the very real things I’d have gained from this fandom anyway:

Two of my very best, very real, and life long friends (amongst all the others, of course)

The knowledge that I want to be a writer

12 complete literary works that prove I can be a writer + the kudos, hits, and comments to prove my work means something to at least one other person

Approximately 223577895 iterations of my favorite people as semi-fictional characters that fall in love over and over again

The knowledge that there are people, however “delusional”, who will not ask you to water down your passions to a palatable level

The knowledge that there are people, however “resistant to ‘the facts’” that will support and have the back of closeted queer artists for most of, if not their entire, career, however heartbreaking and painful the journey, when they truly have nothing to gain from it

The persistent belief that true love is real and unshakable, however taxing

The knowledge that frivolous interests keep you alive and healthy (yes, even after 30! Shocker!)

And, my personal favorite:

Fucking JOY.

[ijustloveobeymeok]

but you should write about levi's strength

!!! Bless you for letting me talk about Leviathan with reason.

Let me do it in a list format so it doesn't feel like I'm rambling.

-Let's get the facts everyone knows out of the way first -As we all know the order of the brothers are also a determination of their strength. So Levi being the third brother indicates he is the third strongest demon amongst them. -Although he is one of the physically weaker ones, which makes him being ranked third even more impressive. -Which , I still believe it is justified. -To start off with, he is the Admiral of the navy. You definitely need to have a considerably impressive strength if you want to be an admiral and have a whole army under you. -His love (and talent) for games also suggest high levels of focus and strategic skills which plays into him being a good admiral. -This also plays into him having political strength, as he is able to maintain that position and control while being an absolute homebody. -He is also able to summon Lotan, which in itself says a lot about his overall abilities. -I mean you probably got to be real strong to have an ancient sea serpent as a familiar/summon. -It is a canon fact that each demon can overpower the demon(s) below them, so even though he is physically weak, this implies that he can easily bring down his brothers save for Luci and Mammon. -He is also someone that the other brothers have mentioned avoiding winding up, vaguely mentioning how disastrous things can be if he loses control (this was brought up in one of their devilgram posts, I'm sorry idr which one anymore) -Also it is basically canon that the ranking is based off magical power so let's talk about that a little too. -When it comes to abilities via magical powers I think Levi's abilities are one of the most talked about. -It's mostly to do with water (a.k.a controlling a whole element) -He can summon giant floods, breathe underwater (or hold his breath for a scarily long time I've forgotten), and can even communicate with sea life. -Sailor man you really turn me on- -Lastly, and what I believe is a valid theory; their assigned sin/emotion is a huge source of their magic power -The first three, Pride (Lucifer), Greed (Mammon), Envy (Leviathan), are pretty consistent emotions. They're feelings that more or less stays with you. A prideful person is always prideful, a greedy person is always greedy, etc. -The rest of the brothers, their sins are more commonly a feeling that comes and goes. A person will become angry and calm again, a person will become sleepy and will stop once they've slept (yk what I'm trying to say, sorry I'm doing my best to word this in English) -Which is why, I think Lucifer, Mammon and Levi are the stronger demons. -Similarly it may also be based on how their sins affect the world but that's harder to judge/rank.

Bonus: -I do think Levi's insecurities play a big part in locking up his potential strength. -He's never really interested in talking about or showing off his strength (he's more proud of his gaming prowess) -Overall he may be the most peaceful demon amongst his brothers, which makes him come across as weaker than he truly is. -But we should know by now, peacefulness is not the absence of strength.

So yeah, obviously Levi is not the strongest. And I'm sure he has a lot of people telling him he doesn't deserve to be higher than his other brothers. But I beg to differ.

Leviathan deserves his position as the third brother. And y'all should be glad God didn't give him an ego bc if he did you'd all be screwed.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[OVERWHELMING KISS]

Bill x Reader

words: 623

tags: sfw, violence

a/n: sorry guys, i think reader snapped in this one... oops. Also, I guess the Bill ones are just all one story now, so read the other ones first? or don't, I'm not the boss of you. (oh and lmk if you think i shouldn’t tag this as sfw lol)

You woke up to the same chaos all over again. Eyeballs floating around, stacking more and more people to his throne and Gideon Gleeful now dancing in a little cage with a pained expression on his face. Bill, however, was nowhere in sight.

Bored already, you watched Gideon for a bit until you called out to him. “You can take a break, you know?” The kid didn’t stop. “No, I can’t! Bill ordered me to keep dancing.” “But he’s not here.” Gideon didn’t listen to you and continued his dance. You sighed, kind of wishing Bill was here.

He hadn’t shown himself to you once since he kissed you. That was two days ago. You laid back down. It was kind of impossible for him to avoid you completely while keeping you chained to a wall next to his throne. But that didn’t mean that he had to face you. You only ever caught his voice, some yellow glimpses if you were lucky.

Eventually, you heard that familiar voice again. He was talking to one of his maniacs who had informed him that ‘Dipper’ and ‘Mabel’ were free or something. Whoever those two are. When the nightmare creature had left the pyramid again to do god-knows-what, you decided to tempt fate.

“Bill!” The air in the room went still. “You’re a giant coward!” The room was deathly silent, even Gideon’s dance went quiet. In the blink of an eye he appeared in front of you - gigantic, seething and glowing red. “WHAT?” His voice echoed through the hall. Somehow, it didn’t scare you anymore. You were getting bored with this. With him.

“You’re a coward.” There was no need for you to raise your voice as you stated this simple fact. Bill wasn’t having it though as he yanked you upwards and towards him by the chain around your throat before flinging you backwards. Your back hit the wall with a dull thud and your motionless body fell to the floor.

Bill’s eye widened in shock as his body transformed back to his yellow, tiny self and flew towards you. “No, no, no…” His voice was tiny as his hands hovered over your unmoving form. He didn’t know what to do, panic seeping into him at the thought of having killed his favorite human in a burst of blind rage.

A soft groan left your mouth as you came to. Dull but intense pain spread from your back and neck outwards, leaving you breathless and unable to get up. Bill’s eye watered, relief flooding his mind at your obvious signs of life, when he pulled you into a sitting position. You cried out in pain as he moved you to lean against the wall.

When you opened your eyes you saw Bill, holding you by the shoulders, crying, pathetic. He moved his hands from your shoulders to your cheeks and sobbed once before transforming his eye into a mouth again and leaning in quickly.

These few seconds of believing he had lost you left him so helpless that he couldn’t stop himself when he realized you were okay. Or, well… alive. Bill kissed you, this time truly meaning it and putting all the emotions he tried to shake these past two days into it.

It was intense - good - but intense. You could taste the tears he had shed and felt him quietly sob into the kiss. It left you feeling breathless and seeing stars, which could have also been from your injuries now that you thought about it.

You wanted more of this. Something real - raw emotion. You also wanted to see him like this more often. Pathetic. Vulnerable. Starting today there was nothing you wouldn’t do to achieve this new goal of yours.

[mvltiwritez1]

‘I Survived TNTL #144’ - Angela Giarratana x Fem!Reader

Requested by: @imboredloll

A/N: I’m still taking requests! I’m also writing my own stuff but writers block sucksssss.

WARNING(S): really really mild swearing.

————————————————————————

Y/n and Angela were cuddling in their bed, it was close to their normal sleep time so it was just time to unwind. Angela drew circles with her finger on Y/n's blanket-covered thigh absentmindedly, her thoughts drowning out Y/n's steady heartbeat beside her ear.

"Is tomorrow a TNTL shoot?" Angela asked randomly, catching Y/n's attention. Y/n lowered her phone from her face and looked at Angela.

"I think so, why?" Y/n asked back, smiling slightly. Angela didn't answer for a second, chuckling softly as Y/n looked in confusion.

"I have the best idea ever." Angela's eyes sparkled and Y/n rose her eyebrow in intrigue before Angela started explaining her idea.

——

"Hey guys! Welcome to Try Not To Laugh. I'm here with Ian, Angela, Y/n, Damien, and Keith" Courtney introduced and everyone cheered for a second before Courtney continued to speak.

"You all know how this stuff goes but if you don't, one of us will be on the stool with water in their mouth and the others will have to make them spit it out in under 30 seconds. Now if you like what you see, go and hit that bell and that like button and...let's get to it" Courtney finished their speech and everyone clapped briefly.

"Since Angela is sitting on the stool, she'll be first" Courtney said and Angela nodded with a giant grin on her face.

——

Angela, Y/n, and Keith had sat on the hot seat and the video had been a success so far but now with Courtney on the hot seat, Angela gave the signal to Y/n that they would be doing the plan they had discussed the night prior.

It was Angela’s time to step out and she grabbed Y/n’s arm gently, smiling up at her before they went out to do the bit.

They walked out hand-in-hand and, with giant grins, they started to talk.

“Hey everyone! We’ve been waiting to say this but we have now decided to announce it” Y/n introduced and Courtney tilted their head, confused as to what they were going to say.

“We’re together!-”

“In a relationship!-“ they both said in unison but once they fumbled the sentence, they both looked at each other. They muttered an ‘oh’ before trying again.

“We’re in a relationship!-“

“We’re together!-“ they switched what they said, hitting the perfect comedic timing. They looked at each other again, shocked, causing Courtney to spit the water out.

“We’re in a relationship! God, Y/n” Angela kept her smile giant and her tone bubbly before dropping it to pretend to mutter the last part to her girlfriend, loud enough for the mic’s to pick up.

“Sorry Ange” Y/n pretended to be taken aback and looked at the camera awkwardly before breaking character and looking at Courtney.

“That was awesome” Courtney giggled and they got ready for the next person to go up.

——

Y/n had forgotten about the bit they did that shoot but she was reminded when it was uploaded a month after filming.

She got the notification from YouTube and saw the TNTL title and thumbnail. She stopped stirring her eggs for a second before calling out to Angela.

“Ange! The TNTL is up!” Y/n said and she heard slightly quick footsteps coming out of their bedroom.

“Really?” Angela’s smile was huge as Y/n chuckled and handed the phone to her. Angela quickly scrolled through the comments and saw remarks about their bit come flooding in.

‘17:38 is this real?!’

‘HOLY SHIT ANGELA AND Y/N?!’

‘Guys, it’s a bit. It’s literally a TNTL’

‘I’m kinda hoping it’s not a bit…is that wrong?’

Angela read them out loud and the couple laughed at some of them. They had a plan to post stuff on Instagram as soon as the TNTL was uploaded but…maybe they could have fun for a day.

The only people that knew about their relationship was their families. They had met each others families too so it was just a close knit group, not even any of their co-workers or friends knew.

——

They decided to keep the lack of relationship charade up until the next day so they staggered their entrances to get into the building.

Damien ran into Y/n and gasped slightly.

“Your bit on TNTL was killer. Ever since it was posted at 11, I haven’t seen anything else talked about on our socials. Such a good joke” Damien chuckled thinking about it. Y/n laughed back.

“Well don’t thank me, thank Angela. She’s the mastermind” Y/n replied and continued walking to her desk, setting her bag down.

The rest of the day, they were bombarded with employees talking about how their ‘bit’ was insane and was turning the fandom into a crazed mess. All Y/n and Angela could do was chuckle along with them, knowing that the next day, everything will be public and out there.

——

They woke up to more notifications on each of their phones from different people, close friends, distant friends they barely thought of, co-workers applauding them.

Y/n groaned before putting her phone face down on her chest. They were still snug in their bed.

“I’m starting to regret doing that bit” Y/n chuckled and wiped her face gently to wake her up more. Angela scoffed playfully.

“Well it’s too late now. I think we should post those drafts now. What do you think?” Angela asked and Y/n looked back at her, waiting a second before nodding.

Liked by filmingamanda and 25,215 others

Y/N_Y/L/N All the rumours are true ❤️ (for real though, you’re the best person I have ever met and I love the way we announced us @angelagiarratana )

Comments

Co_mill: HOW DID I MISS THIS?!

Liked by creator

Filmingamanda: sobbing! Love you two!

Liked by creator

User171728384: I KNEW IT!!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Chapter 105.5 Thoughts: Control, Manipulation and Partnership

Or, how Chuuya is actually the most qualified character to land a victory over Dostoevsky.

I just want to preface this with: I think Chuuya has woken from the brainwashing. We can't see his eyes, he's holding his hat again, and look at the progression of his face and expression from the last few chapters with him (these are in order btw from left to right).

I'm not completely sure how he did this, but I chalk a lot of it up to sheer stubborn determination on Chuuya's part, mostly because it's funny and he was clearly fighting back before Dazai's speech. However, I find it likely the speech did contain some kind of code - others have pointed out how "Goodbye!" might be a reference to the original author's last unfinished book and we know skk's codenames for things generally are based off their real counterparts' works so, maybe he'd already broken out of it, maybe there was something in there that gave him the final push - who knows at this point honestly? Either way, it means Chuuya had the capacity to break out of the vampire curse on his own and that's incredibly funny to me for many reasons but mostly:

Fyodor: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's ability can't overcome flooding."

Dazai: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's personality can't overcome brainwashing."

But really, this highlights something interesting here, both in what Chuuya's role is ultimately intended to be in this arc, and in the way Fyodor and Dazai manipulate and value others in very different ways.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: we already know that Fyodor is an excellent long-term planner, while Dazai is effectively able to counter him because Dazai shifts into thinking like his opponent. They're foil characters for a reason; they're both highly intelligent, manipulative, and willing to play the long game for the sake of winning against their opponent.

Thing is, I also stand by the idea that personality-wise, they're not similar at all - and that has serious implications for the people they are connected with. The build-up to the prison escape arc really highlights this. Some examples:

Chapter 46: Fyodor believes that all people are sinful and foolish and that his goal is to remove sin. Dazai believes that all people are sinful and foolish but asks what's so wrong with that.

Chapter 64: They decide to have a "super-happy chit-chat" about their problems. Dazai's solution to Fyodor's issue with his lazy subordinates is to get them to think lazing around is a bad thing so they will put in effort of their own. Fyodor's solution to Dazai being unable to woo the waitress is to isolate her from her job, house and family so that she can only rely on Dazai.

Chapter 77: Fyodor believes god is perfection and harmony, and thus that the people capable of change are the superior ones with most control. Dazai believes god is the accidental and illogical and believes it is the ordinary people who fight and live in that uncertainty who create the greatest change.

So, what's happening here? Fyodor's manipulation is shown to be very exacting and direct. He leaves no room for error and regards people on a hierarchy - God above all, himself as a servant of God's will, and the sinful and foolish humans he has little regard for. Dazai's manipulation involves manipulation of the situation, and is often indirect. It involves people coming to the conclusion he intends for them to on their own. And from his later dialogue with Sigma, we see he doesn't regard the world in that same kind of hierarchy.

Now, look at the way Fyodor picks an item and Dazai picks a person when starting the game. Look at the way Fyodor refers to Chuuya respectfully but brainwashes him entirely and mocks Dazai for not being worthy of "using" his ability. Look at the way Dazai is a complete ass to Chuuya but ultimately lets him make his own choices (begging people to take note of that moment in Stormbringer where Dazai cuts himself off to correct his referring to Corruption as Arahabaki's true power to Chuuya's true power).

So, the actual strength Dazai has over Dostoevsky then, is not really his strength at all, it's the strength of others and their choice and willpower to act in the way they believe is best. It's the only means of getting a leg up on Dostoevsky, otherwise they will continue to go around and around in circles forever.

And Chuuya is the best candidate for finally throwing Fyodor off his game.

Firstly, let's just establish something: no matter how mad he is at Dazai, he's not going to side with Fyodor, not willingly. Fyodor threatened the Mafia in the Cannibalism arc by attacking Mori, first of all. I doubt he's forgiven him for that. Secondly, Fyodor embodies everything Chuuya can't stand about Dazai, at the very least, younger Dazai - the manipulation, the lack of consideration and connection with others, the callousness and lack of regard for life.

Well, perhaps he's not quite as irritating. +1 point for Dostoevsky I guess?

But lastly, it is more advantageous for Chuuya at this point to help fight against Fyodor, especially since most of the Mafia has been vampirized by his organization. Helping the Agency stop the terrorist plot will help the Mafia by extension by undoing that. And we know from Stormbringer that no matter how much Chuuya is personally hurt, he considers taking out the threat to his people a higher priority. Always.

(You could make the argument that he was told whatever Teruko told Atsushi and decided to join, but not only do I find this wildly out of character, but if that was the case then there would've been no reason to brainwash him.)

That said, I don't think this was preemptive "Dazai's master plan #3057", and in fact, I stand by the idea that Dazai had no idea Chuuya was going to be in the prison. It is very, very important to me that for the rest of this arc, no matter what Chuuya does, that his actions are his own. Not Fyodor's, not Dazai's, but his. And not just because I hate that he's being controlled right now and that freedom of choice has always been important for Chuuya.

But because it makes narrative sense.

The vampires are a bit silly, yes, but they represent the way Fyodor and Fukuchi think - humanity will commit atrocities. They cannot be trusted to make their own decisions. They want to make a world that is free by... mind-controlling people so their plans work without a hitch. In short, they choose, on behalf of others, to sacrifice human autonomy for peace. So, if we are going to turn this arc around, we need to have characters breaking out of that control and thinking for themselves, in spite of the uncertainty of the outcome.

We already see this with Atsushi in the last chapter! He finally takes initiative and makes that choice to leave the room when he doesn't exactly know what the right thing to do is. And this is also why I don't think Teruko is wholly convinced by the DoA either - she lets him go. She gives him the freedom to choose what he does with that information.

Another one of the focus characters here is Sigma. Sigma is a guy who has no past, whose humanity is questioned, who keeps being used by organizations for his valuable ability, who has no home but desperately wants one... oh wait. Remind you of anyone's younger self? This could go one of two ways: Chuuya fails to assert his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from that failure, or, Chuuya succeeds in asserting his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from his success.

I think it, by necessity, has to be the latter. Sigma's at a tipping point right now, and I think seeing someone try to assert their freedom only to fail would damage him greatly. And I think it's a waste of Chuuya's character honestly.

Chuuya needs to assert his autonomy in this arc. Not just for thematic reasons but because I can think of no one else who can effectively break the "super-genius stalemate".

I keep hearing "Dazai knows Chuuya" in response to Fyodor calling their bond shallow, and that is absolutely true! But Chuuya also knows Dazai. Incredibly well. Odasaku knew Dazai's soul, but Chuuya knows Dazai's mind, knows his strategies and ways of thinking without even needing words. What's more, Chuuya has thrown off Dazai before and done what he didn't expect him to.

Which is nifty, because Dazai and Fyodor think a lot alike. Chuuya is in a unique position to thwart Dostoevsky because he may actually be able to predict him to a degree. Chuuya can absolutely land a victory against him, and it's excellent because it would be completely unexpected to Fyodor, who apparently thinks Chuuya's strength lies only in what his ability has to offer and not much else.

But listen. This also can't be skk's plan. I need Chuuya to sideline both of them. Both for the sweet, sweet catharsis of putting those two idiot geniuses in their places and also because I need Dazai to have screwed up. He wasn't wrong about people making their own choices in uncertainty. People need to assert their autonomy to create change. Dazai can't be wrong in this regard.

But with going ahead with the trap to drown Fyodor despite also having to drown Chuuya when he promised not to let him get killed... this needs to have been a mistake, otherwise the value of Dazai's emotional speech to him is diminished.

I want Dazai to try to laugh it off. I want him to say he always knew Chuuya would escape and then for Chuuya to deck him because "no, the fuck you didn't".

I really think Dazai hoped Chuuya would make it. Do remember that Chuuya was one of the first reasons young Dazai decided to try giving life a chance. The fact that he flashbacked to all his key memories with Chuuya says a lot. But his survival was no guarantee and it seemed very unlikely.

So, Chuuya is faced with the fact that Dazai nearly sacrificed him to kill Dostoevsky and save his new Agency friends.

And I hope he finally gets mad. I hope he finally expresses hurt on his own behalf for once. I hope they are forced to break their status quo that they have carefully maintained by not talking about anything ever. I hope they are pushed to uncomfortable places and that it is Chuuya who finally spurs this development.

Let Chuuya break the stalemate between Dazai and Dostoevsky. Let him shatter the status quo that him and Dazai have kept going for year after year.

Autonomous action in the face of uncertainty is necessary for change.

[cowgurrrl]

Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks. 

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones. 

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her. 

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look. 

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk." 

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?" 

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything." 

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden. 

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane." 

"It's annoying, right?" 

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care. 

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan. 

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some." 

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh. 

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that. 

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence. 

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says. 

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles. 

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks. 

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back. 

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home. 

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it. 

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did. 

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting. 

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man. 

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans. 

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me. 

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel." 

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless. 

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone. 

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain. 

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that? 

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week. 

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine. 

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans. 

"Feisty." 

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms. 

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him. 

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils. 

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs. 

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied. 

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good." 

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure. 

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming. 

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom. 

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?" 

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet. 

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing. 

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

[kira-fluff]

comforting you after a break up - haikyuu!!

a/n: once again i have returned. fear my power. just kidding, school made me a ye bit busy especially trying to get by financially (who wants to pay my credit card bill? haha...) anyway, guess who had to dump their boyfriend? 🙋🏼‍♀️ it's me. had to hold back from putting "comforting" in quotations lol

kuroo tetsuro "come 'ere."

a sudden knock on kuroo's door made him jump. he was surprised to see you standing in the rain, completely drenched, but with a big smile on your face. he raised an eyebrow, letting out a little laugh, "why are you out here in the rain?" not answering his question, your smile grows wider. you throw up a peace sign, "guess who just got dumped!" it didn't come out like a question. your smile was stretched wide. unnaturally. kuroo looked you up and down. you hated the way sympathy and pain was strewn on his face. suddenly, he stretched out his arms, beckoning you into his arms. "come 'ere." he said softly, enveloping you in his big arms, your head against his chest. you could hear the steady beat of his heart under his thin shirt. like a dam that could no longer hold the flood, tears poured out of your eyes like the downpour behind you. you shoved your face against his chest in an attempt to muffle the sobs wracking your body. hiccups and shaking breaths escaped you along with wails of sadness that broke kuroo's heart. a selfish part of him told him he should be glad. he's had it bad for you since you became friends in your second year of middle school. but there was no joy in his heart. only pain. he wanted to take all your pain away... to see your smile again - your real smile - again. you didn't deserve this. you deserved someone who would love you unconditionally and not someone who lackadaisically decides to flake out of you whenever he chooses. "I'm ne-never g-gonna find s-someone who-who loves me" you said, letting out another heartbreaking sob, gripping his shirt as another breath wracked you, making you heave breaths rapidly. "I love you.." he said, but he wasn't sure you heard over the deluge. it didn't matter. you were here in his arms. you chose him - out of all the people you could have chosen - to comfort you. and that was enough for now. he squeezed you tighter, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you inside.

oikawa toru "well fuck him anyways! i never liked him." you slam the door to his apartment. he turns to you as you begin shouting, "CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, TORU?! HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO TRY TO BREAK UP WITH ME WHEN I CAUGHT HIM CHEATING!" oikawa is already up on his feet, just as angry as you. "WHAT THE FUCK!? HE CHEATED? OH I'M GONNA GO BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM" "OIKAWA, oikawa, stop, okay? it's.. it's whatever. you've seen the texts. I've had a hunch for a long time anyway." "but he deserves it." "I know, but I'm.. I'm just tired toru. I just can't right now. can we just watch a movie?" he stared at you for what felt like an eternity before beckoning you to the couch. you took a seat next to him. oikawa is a little selfish, so he'd be lying if he wasn't a little glad you broke up with him, not only because that guy is a useless piece of shit, but also because that meant he had an opportunity to show you how good he can be to you - as more than a friend. "well fuck him anyways. I never liked him." he said, pulling you into his arms, lying both of you down onto the sofa as he flicked the tv on, scrolling through shows to watch. he squinted, trying to search for a good one when he heard a sniffle. in his surprise, he dropped the remote onto the floor. "hey, hey, hey.. look at me." you slowly turned your head up to him, your bottom lip jutting out. indents lay in your chin as your lip quivered. "you can cry." and with that, you let out a quiet sigh, and cried into his shoulder. "thank you..." you said. "I'll always be here. you know that. i treat you better than he ever did." he didn't mean to have it come out that way, but you ignored it, too engrossed in your feelings to acknowledge if what he said had any double-meaning.

miya atsumu "I TOLD you that guy was no good!" sorry, but atsumu appears to care more about the fact that he was "right all along" rather than the fact that you broke up with the guy. at least, on the surface. it isn't until you start crying that he feels like a complete asshole for doing a little victory dance in his head when he heard of your split. "I know, ok! I know you were right! but that doesn't make me feel any better. I just feel like a complete idiot." he stopped. "I-i'm sorry. yer not an idiot. I guess.. 've just been jealous this whole time, ya know?" before you had a chance to speak, continued, "'ve like ya for so long. seriously every single time I think about ya since like middle school I've always had to hold myself back from smiling. sometimes when I look at ya I just wanna kiss ya until you forget about that asshole." you stared at him in disbelief. when you finally snapped out of your reverie, you grabbed his hand, leading it to your waist. your other hand went to his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. strangely, the shittiest day ever turned out to be so much more than that - the day you got together with the man who (unbeknownst to you at the time) you'd spend the rest of you life with.

miya osamu "...want some chocolate?" as you sat blowing tissues in his bedroom, he could only stare. to be honest, his only way of comforting was food and physical affection. so he was doing his best to give loads of both. you were recovering from your sobs when he sighed. "....want some chocolate?" his question seemed more like he knew you already did, so when he stood up even before you nodded, you weren't surprised. you followed him to the kitchen where he began to make homemade chocolates like it was Valentine's Day (or white day, I guess). after some comfortable silence, you said, "I feel like... weirdly better now? like, free in a way. i feel like he always had a way of putting me down." osamu let out a grunt. he didn't want to say anything about the fucker that would go too far, but damn did he have to hold his tongue. that asshole was always gaslighting you and was borderline emotionally abusive what with all his manipulation. but bringing that up now would only make you upset. it would force you to relive all of those shitty memories. he took in a deep breath when all of a sudden your arms wrapped around him, your chest against his back. "thank you." was all you said for a while. he nodded. "osamu, I think it's always been you." "....what'da mean?" you only answered with a nuzzle against his toned back, leaving his to wonder what you'd meant, but decided to leave it at that for today. maybe tomorrow you'd be ready to discuss the meaning behind it all.

suna rintaro "good." "I'm sorry, what?" "I said, 'good.'" "that's really mean, rin." "I don't care. I've been waiting too long to give a fuck about that guy's feelings. he had it coming; you should've dumped him a long time ago." "what do you mean?" "you really don't know?" your voice raised in anger, "NO. I don't KNOW, rin." "does this answer your question?" he said, grabbing your cheeks. his lips pressed against yours violently, messily, like he was angry. you stared at him dumbfounded. "I thought you didn't like me like that." he sighed, letting out a disbelieving laugh, "seriously? you literally rejected me." "no I didn't!" by now you'd already forgotten about the break up, instead arguing with suna over who liked each other first, what was a lie, and what was true... I guess suna had his own way of comforting you, but it was also incredibly self-indulgent.

[cheeeeseburger]

Still the one

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I'm on winter break, so that means I finally have time to write! Here's a little something.This story is set during the 2006 Olympics. English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes, enjoy!

“I knew I’d find you here.”

It’s a chilly Saturday morning, and it is entirely too cold and early for you to be drinking a slurpy in your hometown mall small food court. Cherry flavour, as usual, since you like the taste and the tint it leaves on your lips and tongue.

The straw makes an odd sound as you slurp the last of your drink. Real smooth.

In front of you stands a vision of a man. Sidney Crosby, back in Rimouski during Olympic break. Your heart starts beating fast. Suddenly, the brain freeze from your slurpy is not cold at all. Your cheeks turn as red as your tongue. What a sight to see.

He’s dressed in a grey hoodie under a black coat. Black pants, Pirates’ hat on, sunglasses over it; this Sidney Crosby is trying to go unnoticed. Has he forgotten where he is?

“How come?” You try to keep your cool but fail miserably. He just casually sits in front of you. Gosh, he looks good.

“Well, midterms are coming up, and whenever you have to study all day, you go to the mall early, so you can grab lunch and not be bothered by your family.”

Oh, how he knows you. Or at least, used to.

You fail at hiding a smile. “I think you have a calling for divination, kid, not hockey.” You are a month older than him, and it means the world to you.

Then you look at him, really look at him. He has changed a lot in the few months since you last saw him. He seems older, more mature. Seems like his time in Pittsburgh has made him more than just even more fit. He still has those boyish features you adore, but they have faded over time. His eyes are so beautiful, and you wish you could get closer to him to admire them, just like you used to do before kissing him, a lifetime ago.

Your heart breaks just a little. If only.

He looks away, suddenly shy, or intimated, or hurt. “How are you?”

Is this how it’s going to be? Are you really going to make small talk to him? Why doesn’t he talk about the weather instead?

“I’m good, really good. Everything is fine, as usual.”

“How are your parents?” Gosh, is this Pride & Prejudice? Has his ability to communicate been reduced to match Mr Darcy’s?

“They’re great. My mom’s been asking about you. She is worried for you. So is my dad. They’re both basically glued to the TV whenever you play.” Sidney smiles, but it quickly fades.

“How about you? Are you watching me on TV?” His eyes are suddenly hopeful. Your heart aches, and you avoid his gaze. Deep down, he knows the answer is no. It doesn’t make it less painful.

After a few seconds, you lock eyes with Sidney. You put on a brave face. “Hey, want to go for a drive? I’m sick of studying. We can pick up some Tim Hortons on the way and eat it in a parking lot.” Like we used to, you want to add.

His smile is back on. “My treat.” You put your books in your bag, and he picks it up and wears it over his shoulder.

Sidney puts the sunglasses back on. You smirk, and he picks up on it. “What’s so funny?”

“This isn’t Pittsburgh, you know. Rimouski used to be your home. These people know you. Yeah, you’re a celebrity, but you’re also kind of family around here. Sunglasses or not, they could spot you from a mile away. But they also know that you’re here on break, and they respect that, at least most of them.” You’re walking side by side through the mall, and he looks at you sideways.

“You’re right. I’m just used to life in Pittsburgh, that’s all.” A cold wave floods your veins, and Sidney knows he said the wrong thing. You continue walking in silence.

The pair of you finally get to your car, and your beat-up Honda Civic suddenly seems so small. You get a hundred déja vus at the same time.

“The place hasn’t changed” he jokes, and everything is back to normal once again.

You still know his order by heart. The cashier smiles. This is a scene she used to play many times a week only a year ago. He adds a box of Timbits, then pays. You thank him and go back to the car and drive away. You don’t know why, but you’re nervous.

Your subconscious makes you drive to the parking lot where you first slept together, back when you didn’t want people to know.

As soon as you put the car to park, the air changes. There’s a silence, but it isn’t awkward. It’s filled with I wish things were like before and why did you change them then?

“How are you, really?” You finally ask.

“I’m good. Yeah, things are great." His smile falters. "Actually, no, they’re not, but they’re supposed to be, so I pretend they are.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I feel so much pressure and everyone expects so much from me, and I’m constantly worried about messing everything up, and it’s all a little too much, and I miss home, and I miss you.” He lets out a deep sigh and looks up the roof, his dark hair ruffled by the headrest, eyes closed. You’re not sure if he realizes what he just said. It was probably an accident. He is obviously very overwhelmed, and not thinking straight. Still, your heart skips many beats.

You can help but to cup his face with your hand, and softly caress his cheeks with your thumb. You’re not so bold as to put a hand through his hair, though you know that’s what Sidney needs.

“Sid, nobody expects you to be perfect except yourself. I feel like you’re on the edge of breaking down. You’re doing so well, and even if you weren’t, you have so much time to become great, and we’ll always be proud of you. Gosh, I always wear your jersey during game nights, even though I cried a million tears when I received it by mail, when you hadn’t called in a month, and I resented you so much. Whether you’re good or not, I’d betray the Habs a thousand times for you, and that’s saying something. Just give it a little time, and Pittsburgh’s going to be your home, and your jersey will be up in the rafters.” You take a deep breath. That last sentence hurts, but you just hope it cheered him up.

He turns his head to face you. He looks so vulnerable, and you’re reminded why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Without even thinking, Sidney crashes his lips on yours, your eyes shut, and your hands are in his hair while his are on your waist. Immediately, you deepen the kiss, and it’s like it’s last year all over again. His tongue starts tasting like cherries too, with a hint of sugar from the donuts. You wish you could stay like this forever but unfortunately for you, you come back to your senses.

“I have a boyfriend!” You blurt out.

Confused, Sidney pulls away. “What?”

“I’ve only been with him since January!” Like that somehow makes it better. The guilt is nearly overwhelming. You wouldn’t wish being cheated on to your worst enemy, if you ever had one.

“How come I didn’t know?” Sidney looks devastated. His words are innocent enough, but they start an avalanche of anger and resentment inside of you.

“Well how was I supposed to let you know, Sidney? Was I meant to write you a letter? Oh right, I don’t even have your new address! What about a phone call? Well you haven’t bothered with calling me, so why should I? You don’t get to blame me without taking a long hard look in the mirror, Sidney Crosby. Do you know how many nights I fell asleep crying, wondering why you wouldn't talk to me?” Now, it’s an ocean of frustrated tears running down your cheeks, your mascara staining them. You wipe them with the back of your hands.

“Gosh, do you even know how much I loved you? If you love me like I loved you, this situation would be entirely different. Instead, here I am, cheating on a boyfriend I don’t even love but that I keep around because he’s a distraction, but he’s not you and it kills me!” You gasp at your own cruel words. The tears start flowing again, and they don’t stop, because you’re so ashamed of yourself.

Your words are only partially true, and definitely not fair to him.

Sidney just looks at you, too stunned to speak, but he shakes himself and pull you close to him in one of those hugs that you miss so much. He rubs your back while you cry your heart out on his shoulder, probably staining his hoodie at the same time.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so, so sorry.” He repeats the words like a prayer. Maybe if he says them enough, you’ll forgive him.

Against your better judgement, you let him soothe you. You wish your resentment wasn’t fading with every touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but only for a short while, because you furiously put your mouth on his. The windows quickly fogs up.

“Let’s go in the backseat.” Obediently, he nods.

Frantically, you straddle him, and both of your shirts are immediately off. He quickly unhooks your bra, and he splits the task of taking care of your tits between his mouth and hand. Your back arches because you have longed for his touch for months, and it feels like coming home.

He worships your body, still knowing it by heart. Mentally, he takes pictures of it, because who knows when he is going to get to see it again?

“What’s his name?” Sidney asks against your neck, breathless.

“What?” You’re confused, and his hand on your thigh isn’t helping.

“Your boyfriend. What’s his name?” The question makes sense now. So does the sudden tightness of his hands on your body. That boy is jealous.

“Nathan. You know him. He’s friend with some of our friends. I’m sure you’ve seen him before.” He grunts and you both pause to take off your pants.

“The blond guy who always looked at you? He should know that you’re mine.” His mouth is possessive on yours.

“Used to be. Used to be yours.” At the same time, you feel him inside of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your pleasure is heightened by the sounds he makes.

“Screw that. I messed up. You’ll always be mine. I love you too much to ever let you go.” His tender words send you over the edge. You come while chanting his name, then fall helplessly against his bare shoulder. It doesn’t take him long to finish too.

You both lay against each other for what feels like hours.

"Earlier, you said you loved me. Was the past tense intentional?" You know what he is subtly asking.

"Of course not. I still love you, Sid."

Sidney gives you a soft kiss then grabs the box of Timbits.

You put one in your mouth. “I can’t believe I now belong to the cheaters. This isn’t me. Only you could make me do something like this, Sid.” You softly sigh. He delicately runs his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry for that, baby. I hope you don’t regret this.”

You turn to look at him. “Sidney, I could never regret this. When it comes to you, I would do anything for crumbs of your affection. It’s embarrassing, really.” You laugh at little, shy.

“It’s really not. I look for you every time I see a colourful scarf, and I look for you in the stands after every goal, but I’m reminded you’re not there, and so I buy myself a cherry slurpy to get a taste of your lips.” His arms tighten around you, and you snuggle into him, eyes closed.

“Those words are going to hurt me for a lifetime. Every time you’re not there, in fact. It hurts, having to see your face everywhere. I’m constantly haunted by what we could have been.” It was scary, exposing your heart to him like that, knowing he could shatter it in an instant.

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Remember when I asked you to try out long distance, and you flat out refused? You were convinced it was not going to work. You had no faith in me. Do you think I’m not haunted by that?” Now it was your turn to wince.

Of course, you still remember the cruel words you threw at him. It was like you did everything in your power to make him believe your relationship had a deadline. You didn’t give him a chance.

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. In a few minutes, we’ll put back our clothes, and I’ll drive you to your car. We’ll say bye and pretend none of this happened. I’ll go back to my boyfriend; you’ll go back to Pittsburgh. Eventually, all of this will be a distant memory. Eventually, we will be fine.” The words hurt.

He protests immediately. “What if we don’t forget? I don’t want you to go back to anyone else. I don’t want to go back to Pittsburgh knowing you’re with someone else.” He grabs your face. “We didn’t even try. You have to give us a chance.” Sid’s words shock you.

“Sidney, you can’t be serious.” He flinches, and you know you’ve hurt him.

“Do you truly have no faith in me?” He looks so vulnerable; it makes you want to cry.

“Of course I have faith in you, Sidney. I love you too much not to. But I also know that I might not survive another breakup.”

“Why are you already assuming this won’t work? I truly believe our love is stronger than a few hundred kilometers between us. I’ll call you everyday, I swear. Your school break is coming up, I could fly you to Pittsburgh, and I’ll visit you whenever we play the Habs. I’ll write you a letter everyday, if you want me to. You only have to trust me. That’s all I’m asking you. Along with, will you be my girlfriend again, even though it feels like you never stopped being mine?”

This was the sincerest declaration of love you had ever heard. If you had doubts about whether he loved you or not, they were now gone. You loved him, he loved you. What could go wrong?

“In my head, you never stopped being mine either. I could fool myself into thinking I could ever love somebody else, but it’s impossible. Of course I'll be your girlfriend, Sid.” As cheesy as it looked, there were some happy tears in your eyes. You heard him let out a sigh of relief before pulling you close to him.

You held onto Sidney like a lifeline.

“I want to take you on a date” You giggle like a lovesick fool at his request.

“Okay, mon coeur. But there’s something I have to do first.”

“What is it?”

“I have to breakup with my boyfriend. No, not you. The other one.”

[ephedrathirsts]

Teach me

Synopsis: Your best friend asks you to take his virginity. As the both of you spend more time getting intimate with each other, you are forced to acknowledge your feelings for one another.

Contains: idiots in love trope, friends to lovers trope, lovers in denial, one-bed trope, crack and sarcasm, mutual pining, smut, fingering (reader receiving), dry-humping, fluff, afab reader, eventual angst, anger issues, allusions to surgery

Pairing: Hunter Sylvester! x afab! reader

Word count: 4900

Parts: I, II

You woke up feeling Hunter's breath tickling the back of your neck, his hand still resting firmly on top of you. You turned around to look at him as he was asleep. He looked very peaceful- a huge contrast with his usual state of being. His eyebrows were scrunched up and his mouth was slightly open. He looked cute just lying there. He pulled you closer and nuzzled into you.

  "I could feel you staring at me even in my sleep." He yawned and swallowed.

 You were caught, embarrassment flooding your head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You whispered apologetically.

 "It's ok, you can make it up to me by staying like this for a little bit." You flushed. He wanted to hold you close. You were baffled but also incredibly joyful about it.

 "I can do that." You assured

  He made a clicking noise with his tongue and pecked your cheek. You were melting. The last thing you had ever imagined is Hunter being so soft and loving. I guess it is true what people say- harsh exterior, mushy interior. His hair was getting all messy as he adjusted to lay on your chest and put his arms on your sides.

 This whole course or whatever he called it was working all too well with you realizing that you might in fact have feelings for this weirdo. You couldn't keep lying to yourself anymore. Your heart was getting warmer for him by the second and the lovey-dovey act made it all the worse. You needed to snap out of it. Detach before it got fatal.

 "I think I need to go home."

 "We haven't even had breakfast yet. There is Captain Crunch in the kitchen, especially for you." He smiled

 "Oh, fuck you, asshole." You jabbed him lightly in the ribs and giggled.

 "Ouch, that hurt a lot. Don't you want to kiss it better?" He pouted, pleading to you with his eyes.

 You lowered your head to level with his ribs and kissed them over his T-shirt. Then you quickly got out of bed and got your clothes from his desk. "Ok, I gotta run now. Hope you feel better." You nudged yourself to get dressed as fast as possible and head out of the door but before you knew it he was out of bed and hugging you.

 "I'm not going to be keeping you. Just wanted to say bye." He declared as he put one loose strand of hair behind your ear.

 Your heart was in your throat. Or somewhere else entirely, you weren't sure. But all you knew was that you couldn't speak. You couldn't say anything. You tried to calm down your breathing discreetly, bit down on your tongue, and coughed up a quiet "goodbye". You let go of him and rushed out the door.

 His face dropped once you had gone. He knew he had fucked up. Maybe you wouldn't want to even see him again. He probably freaked you out with how needy he was acting but he couldn’t control it. His plan wasn’t going so great after all.

 "Fuck!" He hissed as he punched the kitchen island. "Shit, that actually did hurt. Fuck!" He snickered again, holding his fist close to his face so he could inspect it.

 "Don't break any of my furniture, kid!" His dad came into the room. "You had a rough night? Wanna talk about it..." For a moment Hunter considered it and then..

 "... I mean I get it; they always look prettier at night and in the morning... Uh... Real hags, am I right?" He tried to sound as if he empathized with his son.

 "You are talking about my best friend!" Hunter snapped.

 "Oh, she spent the night. She is a good kid. But what I said still applies. Everyone looks better at night and when you wake up you realize you made a mistake..."

 "Yeah, I get that," Hunter mumbled to himself with a pained expression. "I'm alright, I'm just gonna go down to my room."

 "Ok, kiddo. I'm gonna make bacon later, you can help yourself to a serving.." Hunter had already left.

  In the meantime, you were sprinting home, galloping even, floating through the air. But why? You felt so nice with him. There was no actual reason for you to go. You couldn't take it. All this uncertainty. All of these intrusive thoughts clouding your judgment. You couldn’t like your friend. Especially not now. Not after what you agreed to do. It is only bound to become worse for you while in the back of his mind there was probably a mental list of all of the girls he was going to bed or whatever.

You had to put your feelings aside. Your friend needed you and you promised to help. And to start making things right you needed to apologize. "I'm sorry I ran off in such a hurry. I remembered I had to look after my uncle's dog. I had a really good time last night! Next time you can pick the show :)"  

  You texted, wanting to make sure you didn't offend him in any way with your behavior, sprinkling in a little white lie to seem as not so big of an asshole.

 Hunter's phone buzzed. He saw he got a text from you. He wasn't prepared for whatever you had sent but curiosity urged him to open the message. "It's no problem. Next time we are doing it at yours and ur ordering."  He replied, a smile appearing on his face.

  Hunter came over to your house the next weekend. He made a mental note: no funny business, no overdoing it, no scaring you off. He wanted to do anything and everything with you. Go all the way, but you didn't need to know it or sense it. He shouldn't have made it obvious. "Ok, here goes nothing." He whispered to himself.

 You opened the door after hearing him knock, shivers and cold sweats running down your body. You could do this. It was just a normal hang-out with your friend. Nothing more. The two of you hadn't spent one on one time for a whole week. That's probably why you were feeling so anxious. "Hello there.." you said awkwardly."Come on in. I've ordered Chinese food and I have snacks."

 "Cool.." he smiled politely, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  "What do you want to watch.."

 "Look I'm sorry. I can't just not say anything. I know I weirded you out last time and I didn't mean to. We can stop with the lessons. I can learn the old-fashioned way." He cleared his throat

 "Hunter, you can't possibly weird me out, we've known each other for so long that there Is nothing you could do to achieve that..." You stated well-intentioned, completely lying through your teeth. "I said I was going to help you and from the beginning, you told me how you wanted it to be. You don't want it to seem fabricated, you want it to be natural, and if that's how you are around people you like then whoever gets on your rooster will be incredibly lucky." You smiled at him invitingly

 "Thank you.." he still felt a bit shy and out of place but he appreciated your words. "So we are continuing this experiment?" He asked, waiting for a confirmation.

 "As long as you want to, yes."

 "Great, that's great, yeah. It is totally going to help in the future... you know... when I like someone.."

  "Yeah, I do know." You mumbled disappointedly.

  The both of you were seated on the sofa in the living room, barely speaking to each other, not because you were so engulfed in the incredible storytelling of "Extreme Cheapskates" but because the both of you were too afraid to disturb the peace, to ruin everything. There was an uncomfortable amount of distance between you and both of you secretly wanted to break it, but you were set on restraining yourselves. Wishing that the other would be the one to make the first move or to speak up.

 "I'm gonna go get the popcorn out of the microwave. Be right back"

 "Ok, don't take too much time or you might miss the juicy part."

 "Sure, as if there is a juicy part." You welled sarcastically from the kitchen, reaching into the microwave, distractedly feeling for the hot bag of popcorn, palms first. You yelped in pain.

 "Fuck, ouch" you hissed. Hunter jumped out of his seat and hurried over to you. He looked at you with worry as you ran your hand under the kitchen sink, cold water splashing over your skin.

 "I'm ok, don't worry. Just slightly burned myself, a common mistake. Just me being clumsy." You joked but you could still see him coming closer to you to inspect your hand, drying it off with a towel and holding it caringly.

  "Do you have Band-Aids or a plaster?" He asked

  "Don't be silly, this is nothing. It's not even an actual burn. It just stung a little bit. That's all." You said reassuringly, becoming increasingly aware of his proximity. You could smell his cologne, see every little scratch on his face. As he was holding your gaze, he brought your hand to his mouth and started planting little kisses over it. You gulped. You couldn't take it. His eyes boring into yours. Into your soul even.

  He opened his mouth to speak a soft "Is that better?" but you hungrily hushed him with your lips, gripping tightly onto the fabric of his jacket.

 He kissed you back, hands on your waist, pulling you close, sensing the scent of your shampoo. He wanted you and maybe you wanted him too.

  Not letting go of each other, you led him back into the living room and pushed him down onto the sofa. You were on top of him, looking down with a sheepish smile. He reached up and cupped your face, kissing you way more confidently this time, his tongue meeting yours and playing with it. He put his hands on the small of your back, pushing you down to close the gap between you. As you broke away, he started looking at you all starstruck.

 "Do you want to go up to my room?" You asked in a hushed voice. That's all he ever wanted for as long as he could remember, but now when the possibility was so close he panicked. He wasn't ready to have you this close not knowing whether it was going to last.

 "Yeah, I do," he said as he gently kissed your neck. "But I can't…I can't do it tonight…I'm sorry." He broke away from your skin

 "Oh?" Flush set over your face. "I didn't mean... I get it if you're not ready, I just wanted more privacy... Not sure when my parents are gonna come bursting through the door. I can't have them seeing me on top of you like this."

 Fuck, that's how it sounded. I mean maybe you wanted it. You did want to actually. But you were going to let it play out slow and steady. You didn't mean to rush things.

 "Oh, ok then.. let’s go.." Hunter chuckled embarrassedly.

 "I mean, I thought you were staying over. Like when I stayed over last time. I'm sorry I made things awkward. I didn't mean to kill the mood." You fidgeted with your fingers.

  "It's ok, you didn't." He laughed softly and pecked your lips.

  Both of you went up the stairs and straight to your room. You were getting progressively hornier. Inexplicably so, right? You hushed the lighting a bit and played music from one of his playlists so he feels more at home. Then you held his hand and whispered: "Do you want to come to bed with me?"

  "Yes, positively so." He answered excitedly.

 He was such a kid. You loved him for it. Uh.. the l-word. Nope, too early for that. Time to push the thought down and not examine it ever again.

 He laid on top of you this time, stroking your hair and slowly kissing down your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. He looked down at you adoringly and played with the hem of your shirt.

  "You can take it off if you want to." You told him almost inaudibly

 A rush coursed through his body, he put his arms on your stomach and slowly started to peel it off of you when a voice echoed through the house. "Honey, we are home." Shit, cockblocks. The nation's favorites. "Come down for a moment, you need to put away all these plates if you are going to bed. You can't just leave a mess like that." Your mom shouted.

  "Coming" you answered with annoyance. "I'm sorry.." you started massaging your temples angrily

 "It's ok, I'll come down with you. It's my mess too." He grinned lovingly and you gave him an appreciative kiss in response. "Thanks"

After you were done washing the dishes and organizing them back into their respective places, the two of you went up to your room again. "I'm sorry for the interruption." You looked at him apologetically

 "It's ok, we can pick up where we left off some other time right?" He asked all hopeful and giddy.

 "Yes, of course." You went to the bathroom and undressed. Putting on one of your favorite slip dress. Maybe you weren't going to have sex tonight but you could still give him a view. Hunter peeled off his T-shirt and jeans and tucked himself in bed, sniffing your pillows before you came back in.

  "I'm sorry. It is so warm. I'm going to boil if I wear the T-shirt..." He spat out distractedly as he saw you come closer to him.

 "That's ok. I want you to be comfortable." You were holding his gaze and you could see his eyes all too obviously roaming your body. Your hair was down, the skirt of the gown ending only a couple of inches after your thighs. One of the straps had slid down your shoulders and the material of the dress was leaving pretty little to the imagination.

 Without a beat, he grabbed you by the hips and positioned you on top of him, your skirt riding up and revealing more of your skin to him. Both of your straps were slightly off your shoulders now and your breath had hitched in your throat. "Hunter.."

  "…You said you weren't ready.." you uttered as his lips came down to your neck, not so tentatively this time, not caring at all whether he left a mark. You gasped loudly at this action.

 "I can still make you feel good, right?" He said in a hushed husky tone. "What else are a guitarist’s fingers good for? Just don't make too much noise. I don't want your parents banning me from your house." He smirked and flipped you over getting on top of you. You had never wanted him more. You bit your bottom lip. You were getting so wet just by listening to him talk.

  He continued kissing and sucking on your neck and slowly touching up your thighs, scratching them, making you hiss. "May I?" He said pleading.

 "Ye-yes... Please do.."

 He was getting so fucking hard seeing you like this. But he wanted to prove himself to you. Show you how much he values your pleasure over his. He started massaging your clit, warranting a gasp or two from you. As he found the right tempo, he could see you fully letting go, gripping tightly onto his biceps. Scratching him as you did, which he loved.

 When he was sure you were wet enough, he inserted one of his fingers into you, hitting you just in the right spot. Your legs were shaking. You were nothing but a sweating, cursing mess under his touch."Fuck, Hunter, don't stop!"

  "Not planning to."He dipped his head to suck on the upper part of your breasts and added in another finger. Pumping in and out at a steady pace he started moving faster into you, making you moan. Damn all of his experience plucking strings. It felt waay too good.

 He thrusted into you faster, knowing all too well you weren't going to last much longer. He bore into your eyes. He could see you were close, you just needed a little encouragement and encouraging he was:  -"It's ok, you can let go. Come all over my fingers. I'll lick them clean later."

 That was all you needed to hear. You gripped him harder, pushing yourself up to crash into him, and bit down on his shoulder as you finished all over his hand. He continued fingering you until you came down from your high.

 He removed his fingers from you and inserted them into his mouth, savoring every little drop of you. "You taste fucking amazing." He exclaimed as he bent down to kiss your lips. Your cheeks were red and there was no hiding it.

  You held up a glass of water to him. You were mesmerized as if you were seeing him with new eyes. This was Hunter, your presumed ‘just friend’. The one who had just made you come and put you on cloud nine. After he gulped down his water he asked with a concerned expression: "Did I do well?"

 You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him gently. “Yes, you did fantastically." You smiled into his lips and he smiled too.

   The metal aficionado was extremely geeked. Reviewing his notes every day and replaying the time you had spent together in his head constantly. He was trying to be slick, but he wasn't sure how long it would take before he crumbled.

 He had fooled you. Unbeknownst to you, he had no intention of even entertaining the idea of getting with his so-called ‘groupies’. He wanted you to be his teacher because was only interested in pleasing one person- you. Studying what you desire and what puts you off.

  It probably sounded a bit scheming but he couldn't just go up to you to confess that he liked you, you know, as a normal fucking human being would. He didn't even want to fully admit it to himself. Emotions were tricky for him and so were for you. The situation wouldn't have gone anywhere if he were to breach the gap with you not returning his feelings. No, he needed a plan to make you want him too and he was willing to do anything to achieve it. That's why when you finally followed up on your next lesson, he was ecstatic.

 "I'm gonna come by your place later tonight."

  "Cool, text me when ur close." He wanted to sound nonchalant but he was freaking out. Acting like a fangirl watching fancams of one of her favorite kpop idols. He was so giddy and happy that even his father got worried.

"What the fuck is that squeaky noise coming out of your room, kid? Are you ok?"

"I'm doing amazing birth enabler! Also don't just pop in the stairway without announcing yourself. I could be wanting my privacy."

 "When you get yourself a fancy house with a pool, music studio, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, kitchen and living room by cutting and filling up tits is when you will be entitled to your privacy."

"I know you would rather be FEELING up tits instead-but if I were to properly think about doing some of that myself I would still need my fucking space, so leave! Now!"

"I'm paying your therapist way too much!"

"That's all of the precious boob money for you!" Hunter screamed annoyed, trying to sound witty while he heard a different set of footsteps down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, did I come at the wrong time? I texted you ten minutes ago and rang the doorbell but you didn't reply so I let myself in. Oh, and hello mister Sylvester."

"Well hello to you too, looks like some people your age still have manners, Hunter! Always a pleasure to have you home, darling. I wanted to say I'm sorry about your aunt… It's terrible what happened to her. You know you're basically family so if you ever want to have a breast augmentation, I can make you a deal for the implants afterward. With a chest your size, not too big to be a burden to your back but still eye-catching enough you should keep the volume so..."

 "Father, get the fuck out! And stop staring at students’ tits!"

 "Don't get ridiculous Hunter, she is like a daughter to me. I would never.. anyways I think I have some work to do. I'm gonna leave you kids to it." He replied as he not so discreetly winked at Hunter

 "Fuck... Fucking finally. I'm so sorry! He was incredibly fucking insensitive and creepy."

 "He was staring directly at my chest, like eyeing it reeal good."

 "Yeah, he is fucking disgusting. I'm so sorry."

 "It isn't your fault; you don't have to apologize for his behavior. I'm fine."

 "Do you want to come some other time; I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

 "No, I take all of my ventures very seriously. I told you I was going to be here so here I am."

"Yeah," Hunter said self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck. He noticed how pretty you looked. You always looked pretty, but you had gone out of your way to do so this time. With your hair done, make-up on, a familiar scent of your perfume drifting through the air and the pendent Hunter had gifted you for your birthday hanging around your neck. He was entranced.

 "I don't think we should go all the way tonight. We are still testing things out, being in the beginning stages and all."

 Hunter snapped back awake from his daydream."Mhm" was all he could muster. He wanted to go and grab you, kiss you right this moment but he couldn't just do that after his father's speech. He needed to get the mood going. "Firstly, do you want to listen to some music? You can play whatever you want. Even your shitty the Weeknd knockoffs."

 "Chase Atlantic have some good songs, ok? And it's not so much about quality with them. It's about the vibe of it all. The experience. But that's a great suggestion for the occasion."

 "I don't know, they sound like try-hard vampire wannabes."

 "Yeah, that’s the beauty of it."

 You turned on the speaker and played one of your playlists. For a moment you were somewhere else, mouthing the lyrics, humming to yourself, slowly rocking your hips in tune with the music as Hunter came up behind you and turned your head so you were facing him."Good thing you're also beautiful, otherwise I would never listen to that crap." He muttered in a hushed voice.

  You mustered a barely audible "thank you" and he shushed you with his lips. It was hard to get used to. Him touching you like that, talking to you like he wasn't little old Hunter. The one you grew up with, the one you had known ever since diapers, but right now it was too hard to perceive him that way. You had already gone over the crossing line and there was no going back.

 He held your hand in his and whispered into your mouth: "Do you want to come to bed with me? I promise I won't do anything to scare you off." Batting his eyelashes, trying to look as innocent as possible.

 "Do you even know how to?" You teased, feeling him come up against you again way more assertively this time.

  His hands landed on your hips, yours entangled in his hair. His tongue slithered into your mouth, soft gasps escaping both of you. He was calculated at first, confident but measured until he got progressively hungrier for your kiss. As you started reaching for his back, pushing him closer and closer to you he deepened the kiss and began roaming your body with his hands. Your knees were getting weak just from the slightest touch. He was a virgin but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hell of a good kisser. You started to lose balance. He prompted you up by sliding his knee between your legs. A dirty trick that was working very well in his favor.

You parted to get some air and he whispered again. "I hope not." You were flushed, all knots in your stomach and trembling pulsing sensation all over your limbs. He had turned you into jello just by kissing you and that did scare you because you didn't expect to feel this good, to want him so much.

 "Lead the way." You your heart was racing.

 Hunter grabbed your hand again and sat on top of his bed. To his surprise, you didn't sit next to him or opposite him. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, lightly grinding down on him. All of his confidence from before flew out the window. You looked at him with lust in your eyes, your lips forming a devilish smile as you scanned his face. He was getting nervous. He wanted to impress you and he loved every second of it but he wasn't expecting you to look at him the same way. He guessed you were committed to your job. He was speechless just looking at you, wanting to remember this forever.

"What are you getting so shy for, didn't you invite me here?" You grinned cockily "It's ok baby boy, I can do some of the work now. You just relax." You whispered into his lips kissing him yourself with none of the measure or sensitivity of some of your previous kisses. You were boiling from the inside. A volcano ready to erupt. You grinded on him wantingly, letting him feel the wetness seeping through your underwear as your skirt had ridden up your thighs, exposing them deliciously. He moaned in response when you pulled on his hair, nibbling and sucking on his lips and finishing him off by biting the lower one.

 You being so desperately horny for him got him so incredibly hard. He was a mess under your touch but he needed you to be one under his as well. He couldn't control it anymore. He held down your inner thighs, squeezing them hard as his fingers dug into your skin. You gasped and moaned. He began sucking on your neck, leaving purple bruises on his path. He licked and kissed your calves and upper breasts as you purred into his ear."Hunter, this feels so damn good."

 Electricity coursed through his body. He needed to have you all to himself like this forever. He gripped your hips hard, moving you on top of him faster and faster. He kissed you just like you had kissed him

before. With his lustful tongue making patterns in your mouth, sucking on your lips, and then biting you playfully. He put more and more speed in, feeling your heat press against his erection so violently. He was going to come; he couldn't contain himself but he needed you to come with him too.

 "God, you make me insane. You are so fucking hot." He hissed while bucking his hips upwards, hitting your core in the most sinful way.

 You could see he was close and you needed something to push both of you off the edge so without even thinking you whimpered into his mouth. "If you get this hard and desperate for me now, I could only imagine what you would do when you're stretching me out with your dick."

 That was the last straw. He couldn't hold on anymore. He came under you, cum bursting all over his boxers and he couldn't be happier about it. Your legs were twitching as you came a second later, a vibration coursing through your body. You closed your eyes for a moment just to open them and to remember -you just made your best friend cream his pants and you wanted to do it again and again.

 But then the sinking feeling came in. He wanted to do this as a form of practice for other girls. He was going to creep up under your skin,  get to your heart, and then use all of the moments you've spent together to please someone else. Like it didn't mean anything. And the worst part was that this was exactly what you agreed to, so why did it make you ache?

  Hunter was blissful. He was much closer to you than he had ever been before and it seemed like you were feeling this newfound closeness too, that you liked It, but this voice in the back of his head came back rushing in: "She is just following up on her promise. If she feels anything towards me right now, it's probably pity."

 You slowly untangled yourself from the metalhead, got up, and straightened up your skirt. "Well, I gotta go now. Good job today, partner.. uh student." You gave him an awkward high-five and bolted out of his room.

 Yeah, it was definitely pity.

[famwhy]

Right Way Up (02)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: Sorry for the wait, my loves, but here's Eddie, Steve, and Billy to make it up to you 💕

prev part. masterlist. next part.

02. bring unto me vanity

enter: billy hargrove

YOU stood there, expression blank as you stared mindlessly into the Eddie Munson. It almost felt as though all your thoughts had left you the moment you bumped into him—flooding out in an endless, blank stream of nothingness you couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Then—not even seconds later—it all came rushing back.

Scenes of him lying in a pool of his own crimson, straining as he told Dustin about how he didn't run away—how he wasn't a coward for once. Scenes of the town believing he was some sort of satanic worshipper—vandalising his missing posters with pentagrams after he had just died protecting them. Scenes of Dustin informing Eddie's uncle of his noble death with tears streaming down his face; unrelenting in their cruel pace.

Scenes that always shot straight through your heart no matter how many times you rewatched them.

"Woah, hey, are you o—?"

You couldn't help it—the way you flew into his chest, arms wrapping around his back in a hug so tight—so inextricably emotional—that even the most affectionate of lovers, the most intimate of partners, would envy your outpour of emotions in that one embrace.

You couldn't help it because—because he was here. And he was okay. And he was alive—oh god, he was alive.

"Wha—?"

And apparently, he was also confused.

Get it together, Y/N. What kind of weirdo randomly throws themselves onto a stranger like that?

But he wasn't a stranger though, he was a character you had watched and grown attached to on screen; a beloved character you had witnessed die over and over again without being able to do a single thing about it.

But, a small voice prodded in the back of your mind, maybe you could do something now?

"Are you... okay?"

You blinked, further scattering a wet substance across your eyelashes. "Oh, yeah, um... it's just that—"

You didn't deserve to die, Eddie.

"—well, everyone is always so mean to you and— they're always like, calling you a freak just because you like playing a fantasy, role-playing game and it's just— it's so unfair because you seem like such a nice guy who doesn't deserve any of the shit that you get and I'm just— I'm so sorry!"

Ah, maybe you let out a little too much there, judging by the way he reacted.

His mouth had hung open, brown eyes wide in what you could only describe as disbelief, bewilderment and utter, utter shock.

For a moment, you were worried that you had accidentally made him malfunction or something; maybe said some type of dialogue that he couldn't compute and, therefore, couldn't respond to—like some sort of unaware NPC being told that they weren't real—which, in a way, is quite similar to his actual circumstance anyhow.

But then, to your utter surprise, he spoke again; in a tone that seemed light, almost—playful, even—"woah, uh, you always psychoanalyse people when you first meet?"—but... there was a waver in his voice, a vulnerability breaking through.

And you knew; you knew he was trying so hard not to let it break through.

Oh Eddie...

"No, sorry, uh—" you cut yourself off, pulling away to rest your arms against your sides, to really look him in the eyes as you offered, "—do you want to be friends?"

"Woah, hold up, Y/N L/N, the Y/N L/N—the Queen of Hawkins High herself—"

Queen of Hawkins High? You knew you were popular but—Queen? Damn.

"—is asking me, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, if I want to be her friend?"

His words ushered the corners of your lips down and you felt that familiar constricting feeling in your heart again. "Don't call yourself a freak, Eddie. You're not. Please don't ever refer to yourself that way."

Cue the look of absolute astonishment making its way back onto his face.

"I uh—"

"Please, Eddie." Your fingers intertwined, eyes widening in what you hoped—prayed—was a look that resembled irresistible puppy dog eyes—

"Well, how the hell am I meant to deny you when you give me that look, sweetheart?"

—and resemble them it did. 

"So, does that mean—?"

He smirked. "Yes, Queenie, I'll be your friend."

The voice at the back of your mind was louder now, hope swirling together with mere hypothetical scenarios to grant you a vision—a world in which Eddie survived the bat attack he was subjected to in season 4; a world in which you saved him.

And hey, if you were lucky, maybe you'd be able to protect him from all the awful bullying he was a victim of as well. Lord knew he didn't deserve it.

"So, would you mind me sitting in on one of your DnD campaigns?"

He blinked, looking confused for what was probably the nth time. "You know what DnD is?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I, uh, know someone who plays it. I mentioned it just now, remember? Definitely not a game that encourages satanism."

A bubble of laughter left his lips—and you swore you felt a swirl of warmth gather in your chest—his pretty eyes crinkling up as he said, "yeah, it definitely isn't." Then, his hand rose up to the back of his neck before he continued, albeit awkwardly, "I uh, actually have one today after school, if you wanna..?"

He trailed off but you knew what he was about to ask—and so—smiled at him as you confirmed, "I would love to."

"Great!" He beamed—rather cutely, if you did say so yourself—before immediately faltering, and soon, his hand was back on his neck. "We should probably head to English, huh?"

So you shared your next lesson together? Sweet. Saved you the hassle of running around like a headless chicken trying to find your class.

You let Eddie lead the way, following behind him with a pep in your step as you passed by doors upon doors, each looking just as beat-up as the last—but you were too over-the-moon to criticise their condition.

Perhaps the reason you were so happy was because you genuinely befriended a super nice, super fun guy that you always wanted to talk to when watching the show. Perhaps it was because you knew you had a shot at saving him; at giving him another chance to live in this fictional world. Either way, your mood had definitely lifted and for that, you were grateful—

"Munson, L/N, you two are late." 

—until, of course, you weren't.

Having arrived at class, you were met with a chorus of gasps sent your way, almost every single jaw dropping to the floor as soon as their eyes landed on you and your companion. 

The lady in front of you had her arms crossed over her busty chest, eyes narrowed specifically at one of the two of you and said person seemed to be very aware of it.

Eddie parted his lips, a grin manifesting on his face as he seemed to gear himself up for some sort of speech; one that would never get to leave his lips—at least, not on your watch.

"Sorry, miss, I held him up a little." Your lips stretched into a sheepish smile as you shrugged.

Not bothering to hear what she had to say—because why would you?—you made your way over to one of the empty seats at the back. There was another one in the middle of the room—one surrounded by broad-shouldered kids all adorning the same, bright varsity jackets—but, you would much rather be taking the seat away from them.

Besides, the back seat had an empty one right next to it.

As soon as your thighs landed on the smooth—yet highly uncomfortable—surface of the wooden chair, you tilted your head up, eyes meeting with the sweet character you were just walking with, before one of your hands rose up and gestured towards the other empty seat right next to you.

Another gawk. Another chorus of dramatic gasps.

Oh my God, it's not that big a deal.

"Well, Mister Munson? Will you be taking your seat or will you keep holding the whole class up?"

Snickers; mocking and malevolent in their nature—all bouncing off the walls of the room and into your ears, edging your lips down.

It didn't seem to bother Eddie though, who only let out his own sheepish chuckle before making his way down the row of beaten desks to the empty one beside you.

Your lips twitched back up, then he opened his mouth—"you weren't kidding about wanting to be my friend, huh?"—and you found them twitching down once again.

"Of course not, Eddie. I'm not that—"

A new voice abruptly cut you off. "Ahem. Now where was I?"

You couldn't speak for the remainder of the class, but that didn't stop you from communicating with Eddie regardless. All you had to do was rip out a page from your notepad, write a quick 'I meant what I said', scrunch it up and throw it his way.

You had then propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting on the bumpy table as you leaned forward to really gauge his reaction. The goofy way his lips had tugged up was very much infectious and you smiled as he furiously scribbled back a response before sneaking a quick glance at you—one that resulted in him freezing up, eyes widening and pink rushing to his cheeks in a way that was so cute, you couldn't help but widen your smile.

His blush grew deeper.

He was quick to pull himself back together though, and soon, the rest of the lesson was filled with the two of you tossing that same, crinkled sheet of paper back and forth—each time filling it with more and more ink as small giggles bubbled out of your mouths; childish and carefree with a hint of awe. You felt like a middle schooler all over again—it was nice, it was fun—

—so fun, in fact, that time passed by like a flash of lightning and, before you even knew it, a 'brrring!' rang through the air; one that had you rushing over to Eddie's side, ready to accompany him out the door. Were you being a little clingy? Maybe. But it was the Eddie Munson, who wouldn't be clingy?

"Oh wow, being waited on by a queen, boy do I feel special," his words were accompanied by a light tone you'd heard many a time over the TV, one you absolutely adored.

"You should feel special. You're awesome, Eddie. I'll stop at nothing until you realise that." 

He paused again, that pink colour from earlier returning to reign terror on his cheeks once more.

What a cutie.

You watched as he continued packing the remainder of his stuff in his bag, eyes trained on the glint of his solid-metal rings that would disappear and reappear from behind the rough cotton. Damn, how did they make him look so much more attractive?

Eddie was really attractive, you had no idea how no one in the school seemed to notice. The way his bouncy, brown curls framed his face—perfectly complimenting that pretty pair of eyes he was so lucky to have; the way he would exaggerate his hand gestures like a true drama queen—playfully joking about with a charm that seemed signature to him; the way he always seemed to—

"Uh, ready to go?" 

You blinked. "Huh? Oh yeah."

How long had he been standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder?

"So, sweetheart, I was thinking... for DnD later, do you wanna join in or, uh, just sit and watch?"

"Oh, well, I'm not too—"

A pang; shot straight through your arm like a bullet—and all of a sudden, your whole body jerked to the side, eyes landing on a pair of brown ones; different to the ones you were just staring into.

The very pair of brown eyes that had been the first ones to greet you in this world.

"Ack! Steve!"

He was frowning, brows furrowed and eyes filled with so much dejection, you found yourself wanting to do nothing more than wrap him up in a loving hug and tell him he was worth the whole world. 

"N/N," his voice came out soft, afraid, "what was that earlier? Did I... do something? Whatever it was, I'm sorry, please don't avoid me."

Dear lord, was he whimpering?

"No! Steve! No, no, no, no," you frantically shook your head from side-to-side, mentally beating yourself up for making him upset, "I just— I overreacted because of my arm."

One more cute, inquisitive stare from him and you finally broke. Damn his puppy dog eyes, was this how Eddie felt when you used them on him?

With a light sigh, your fingers found their way down the sleeve of your jacket, slowly bunching the material up to reveal the graying gauze underneath—yikes, looked like it was due for a change.

"Gah!"

Another tug—on your wrist this time—had you tumbling forward, almost smacking straight into Steve's chest had you not planted your feet and caught yourself in time.

He was so close—you could feel his breath on the bare skin of your arm, feel the warmth that radiated off his form. The proximity was almost causing you to lose focus in your vision, colours blending in to create blobs of indecipherable objects.

It didn't seem to bother him though, judging by the way his eyes stayed trained onto your bandages—not straying from them for even a second. Ever the caring one.

"What happened?"

"Oh, uh, just a wolf attack. It's nothing really."

"It's not nothing—" he finally looked up, gazing straight into your eyes with that familiar sense of concern given to you at the start of the day, and the day you arrived—you know? the one that never failed to give you a plethora of butterflies in your stomach? "—you're hurt. That could never be nothing."

Your breath was stolen from you for a few moments—unfairly and unlawfully—but soon, with a shake of your head, it (along with your vision) was seized once more. "Steve. I'm okay, really."

"At least let me take you to each class, please."

Well, when he put it like that—

But, in all seriousness, this was the perfect temporary solution to your problem and you were being handed it on a silver platter thanks to Steve. If you two really were as close as everyone claimed you to be, then Steve would definitely have your timetable memorised, meaning you wouldn't have to arise further suspicion by asking for a physical copy.

And have it memorised, he did. The rest of the day, he accompanied you to every class, looming behind you like a bodyguard and flat-out refusing to let you carry your stuff. Even when lunch came around and another pair of pompoms came to grab you, Steve was there to shut her down, not even giving you a chance to consider going to practice. Not that you would—you weren't stupid.

Soon, the end of the day rolled around and Steve was stood at the doorframe of your class, muscled arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wood with one foot crossed over the other.

"Let me drive you home."

You paused, hand frozen mid-air with a book slotted between your fingers. "It's okay, Cain's picking me—"

Just then, a thought occurred to you, and your mind dragged you back to your conversation in the early morning.

("I uh, actually have one today after school, if you wanna..?")

"—up..."

Oh shit, Eddie.

The book in your hand was inside your bag within milliseconds and you were right out the door in even less time than that, Steve's body having been slightly pushed aside in your haste.

"Woah, what's going—?"

You turned back around abruptly, almost causing him to bump into you had he not halted in time. "Do you know where Hellfire is?"

"Hellfire? That cult club?"

Your eye twitched. "It's not a cult—and I need to speak to Eddie."

His brows furrowed and his lips tugged down, expression shifting with an emotion you didn't have the time to decipher. "Eddie as in Eddie Munson? Super Senior Eddie Munson? Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?"

"He's not a freak, don't call him that." You narrowed your eyes before continuing, "and yeah, I mean Eddie Munson. So do you know where he is?"

"Why do you wanna know where Munson is?"

"I need to talk to him, Steve, now can you tell me where Hellfire is or not?"

"Are you sure? I mean, that kid sells some real serious shit and I don't want you—"

"Steve." Your arms folded over one another and you gave him the best stern look you could muster. 

Luckily, it seemed to do the trick, and soon, he let out a large breath before briskly walking forward.

You blinked, watching as his back shrank with each step.

"You coming or what?"

Then, your lips stretched into a grin. "Coming! Thanks, Stevie!"

He didn't respond—and you could have been imagining it—but, your ears seemed to have picked up on a hitch in his throat.

Cute.

Steve led the way and you passed by a multitude of bland, white lockers—or well, meant to be white, they were obviously going grey with age though—before you found yourself standing in front of yet another tall, wooden door.

You rose a fist... and lightly knocked on it three times.

A muffled shout greeted you; a sign to open the door, probably.

Palm rested against the cold surface of the knob, you twisted your wrist and gently pushed against the weight of the wood.

A multitude of chairs, each one seating a wide-eyed member of the rejected club, with one specific throne placed at the head of a rather long table—Eddie's seat.

Speaking of the club leader, his arms stretched out the moment you peeked through the gap. "Miss Queen Bee! How nice of you to join us!" 

You didn't even pay mind to the many gawks sent your way, practically used to it all by now.

 "Hey Eddie!" You beamed and he smiled with just as much enthusiasm—though you swore you heard a growl coming from behind you. "I'm so sorry! I know I said I'd join you guys for this campaign but I completely forgot about my brother coming to pick me up! I'm so so so so sorry! I promise I'll join you next time!"

His shoulders sagged and he practically deflated, smile faltering as his eyes dimmed in lighting. It was only for a few seconds though, not even that long honestly, and soon, he was sending a gentle smile full of so much understanding your way—you almost flew over to give him another huge hug of utmost gratitude.

"It's okay, I get it. See you tomorrow?" His brows rose up and his eyes swirled with a sense of hopefulness you could never bring yourself to shut down.

"Of course," you spoke softer, eyes losing any hint of a sharp edge as you addressed him, "see you tomorrow!"

His smile was back, bright and blinding as ever—but before you could enjoy it any longer, your arm was tugged on and another pang shot through.

"Ack! Steve, seriously?!" You looked his way just in time to catch his furrowed brows and heavy frown, but his expression quickly shifted from one of fury to one of panic.

Wait... fury?

"Shit. Sorry, I completely forgot." He quickly took his hand off your arm in lieu of placing it on your shoulder, any hints of that previous expression now completely gone.

Did you just... imagine it?

"We should go, your brother's probably waiting for you."

"Yeah, uh—" you placed your hand over his own, brows furrowed and expression not all there, "—let's go."

Well that was confusing.

It wasn't long after your puzzling interaction that you found the grey, beat-down truck belonging to your eldest brother—parked up near the front of the school building with few vehicles nearby. 

He was sat behind the wheel, elbow rested against the open window and used cig between his two fingers—still leaking the toxic gas youth in the 80s seemed to be so obsessed with.

"I'm guessing you wanna take her to school again, huh Harrington?"

Not wasting a second, your best friend nodded.

"Well, you never failed me before so I guess it's fine. If she's okay with it, of course."

Steve, once again, gave you those big, pleading eyes and—c'mon—how the hell do you refuse that?

"'Course it's fine with me, Stevie." 

His lips quirked up and his eyes brightened much like Eddie's had earlier—though, unlike Eddie, Steve opted to go farther when expressing his delight.

How far? Well, his arms had wrapped themselves around your waist and you found yourself being pulled into a warm, sturdy chest—so, that far, you guessed.

You weren't quite... used to receiving affection so frequently—especially by a male friend. Though, judging by how naturally it seemed to come to Steve, he was normally quite touchy with you.

Now, you didn't particularly mind it, it was just... foreign to you—but, with time, you would definitely grow used to it. Besides, it was Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, who wouldn't want a daily hug from him?

"Alright, you two, break it up." Cain narrowed his eyes. "Don't think I don't see those wandering hands, Harrington. Don't you have a girlfriend?"

A particularly loud noise—that sounded like someone clearing their throat—came from beside you. It was followed by a sudden breeze against your waist and the following words—"they, uh, they weren't wandering."

"Sure." Then, with a flick of a finger, Cain's cigarette was sent flying through the air. "C'mon sis, time to go home."

"They weren't wandering, N/N—"

"I know they weren't, Stevie." You chuckled. "He was just teasing you."

You didn't let him respond—opting, instead, to ghost your fingers over his arm and wiggle them in one last goodbye before making your way around the truck, kicking a pebble or two while you were at it.

Your hand slotted between the handle and the knob, and with a pull—accompanied by a step up—you were off, leaving the dazed form of Harrington in the dust.

Houses, one after the other—zooming by in a blur of colours; of people and cars that still seemed so surreal to you. Being in the 80s was so... weird. There was one thing you hated for sure though—the lack of mobile phones.

Like, seriously?! What did a girl have to do in order to get some entertainment around here?! The TV shows weren't good and the VFX in films was enough to make you empty your stomach contents in a gross assortment of sickly green vomit. Maybe you were being spoiled but damn, living without the Internet to entertain you sucked.

"We've got new neighbours," Cain's voice pierced through your thoughts, "just moved in a bit ago."

New neighbours? Could it be...?

"When'd they move in?"

"A day or two ago." He shrugged.

"How did I not notice?" That question was more for yourself than him.

"We didn't particularly let you." But he answered anyway.

"Right. Did you see who they were?"

"They have a son, 'bout your age. Why? Do you wanna hook up with him or something?"

You slowly turned his way, expression scrunching up. "No, ew, you're gross."

"What? You're a teenager, it's only natural."

"True—but also, dude!"

His shoulders bounced up and down as he chuckled at your misery. Big brothers sure sucked sometimes.

"Alright, we're home. Get out, shithead." 

You playfully rolled your eyes but obliged, jumping out of the elevated truck with a big swing of your arms before landing on the ground—a light 'thud' following after. Thank god you were on the sidewalk and not sinking into mud right now.

Well, now was as good a time as ever to test your little theory of who, exactly, had moved in to the previously-empty house next to yours.

Your eyes flickered to the side, scanning the house and frowning at the empty driveway that greeted you.

No blue camaro.

Maybe he was out on a drive? Cooling off some steam by recklessly going over the speed limit?

"What are you doing standing around? Get." 

Guess it'd have to wait until tomorrow.

You twisted open the door to your house and were immediately greeted with the sound of grunts and plastic harshly smacking against plastic coming straight from the opening closest to you. 

"What d'you wanna eat?" Cain's voice calls from behind you.

"You can cook?" 

He sent you a weird look and you found yourself wanting to rip off a piece of duck tape, coat it in the most sticky glue you could find, and slap it bang in the middle of your lips.

"I've always cooked for the three of us."

"Right. Yes. You have always done that. Silly me." With a tiny giggle, you looked off to the side to eye the suddenly-very-interesting wall.

"Oookay, what do you want then?"

What did you want? You weren't particularly in the mood for anything—your mind was way too occupied for choices right now. How could you worry about food when your brain constantly replayed the events of the demodog attack and scenes that happened in Stranger Things as a whole?

"Alright—" you blinked, tossing your gaze forward again to see Cain heading to the kitchen, raising one rough arm to wave dismissively in your direction, "—I'll just make lasagne."

Then, you jumped as you heard a yell from the other room. "Fine by me!"

Maybe you could ask Curt if he had anymore info on the family next door. You were fairly certain it was who you thought it was but better safe than sorry, huh?

"Currtt." 

You appeared from behind a pillar, slowly walking over to your second eldest brother with the most artificial smile you'd ever worn on your face.

"What?" His fist continued colliding with the bag.

"Do you know anything about our new neighbours?" 

"Why the hell would I give a damn?"

Immediately, your smile fell. "Useless."

"What was that, you little shit?"

So much for getting info from him. 

Well, you had time to spare so you might as well spend it gathering your thoughts some more.

First things first, you had no idea how to get back to your world—and to be entirely honest—you weren't sure if that was your top priority as much as surviving was. This was Stranger Things, a world that contained a hidden dimension filled to the brim with bloodthirsty, plant monsters that could, quite literally, rip you limb from limb.

There was also one glaring question that really stood out to you; one that prodded the back of your mind earlier today; that had you leaping into Eddie's arms in the first place. Could—

"Alright, shitbirds, dinner's ready!" 

"Fucking finally." 

Well, guess you had to wait for some other time to contemplate that question.

All three of you gathered at the table to eat and, as your fork prodded against the pasta sheets on your plate, you found yourself eyeing the two extra seats—empty and unoccupied. Were they for guests? Or perhaps... your parents? 

Did you even have parents in this world? Curt and Cain never spoke about it—you never really saw anyone in the house other than them so... were you parent-less? It made sense seeing as Cain was the one who cooked for you three—a fact you weren't privy to before because of... wait, why didn't he cook before? You had been in this world for a few days now and you hadn't been cooked a single meal since arriving.

"Hey, Cain?" You turned to the eldest, keen on finding an answer to your question.

"Hm?" 

"How come you never cooked before?"

"I have cooked before, what are you talking about?" He rose a brow.

Shit. Careful with phrasing.

"I meant like, when I was on house-arrest."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed but I was busy fixing a car commissioned to me by the Wheelers."

Ah, that made much more sense.

"Are you okay, Y/N? You haven't been acting yourself lately."

Well shit.

Before you could stutter out a response, he had already beat you to talking.

"Is it... 'cause of the attack?"

"Oh!" You saw the opportunity given to you and seized it. "Uh, yeah! I'm just... still shaken up by that wolf attack."

His lips tugged down and concern creased his brow, sending your heart into that constricting feeling for the nth time. You were starting to grow sick of it.

"You know what? I think I'm done."

"You barely touched your—"

"It was great, thanks, goodnight!"

"It's not even—"

You tuned out the rest of what he was trying to say, rushing up the stairs with loud 'thud's echoing after each step; hand barely resting on the rail as you zoomed by.

Did you have a valid reason for running away this time? Not really—at least, nothing as justified as when you ran from Steve before. Your only reason right now was... well, you didn't even know what it was.

All you knew was that your bed looked mighty comfy right now.

And comfy it was, you passed out as soon as you hit the mattress in fact, entering the land of slumber with nothing but the vast expanse of darkness to greet you when you arrived.

It seemed like only seconds passed before you felt your shoulders start to shake gently, long fingers wrapped around the exposed curves; long fingers you were now quite familiar with.

You eyes fluttered open and you were met with the soft, brown eyes of your best friend hovering over you.

"Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick you up, Nance is waiting in the car."

His words brought your attention to behind him, seeing the shine of the sun's rays making its way through the clear glass of your window to light up your room and coat it in a warm, yellow glow. Unfortunately, you couldn't bask in the beauty of the scene for long.

"Oh shit! It's morning?!"

"Yeah—did you... sleep in your cheerleading outfit?"

"Yes, yes I did, Steve. Now get out so I can get ready!" You sprang up, placing both of your hands on his shoulders this time before you spun him around and pressed your palms against his back, lightly ushering him out of the room.

"You already look ready to me." He snickered.

"Oh shut up." 

With that, you slammed the door shut in his face and quickly got to fixing your bedhead.

Luckily, you didn't have to change, but you definitely had to reapply your makeup which took quite a few minutes. That plus the time it took for you to refresh yourself in the toilet and you were looking at just narrowly avoiding being late to school.

Your feet carried you down the steps swiftly as your eyes locked in on the door, passing by a very flabbergasted Cain on your way there.

"Wait, you forgot to—!"

His words were cut off once you slammed the door shut, rushing down the front yard to stumble into the back seat of Steve's BMW, where both he and Nancy sat awaiting your arrival.

Your chest heaved up and down. "What are you waiting for?! Go!"

"We aren't late." Nancy replied, raising a brow at you.

"We... aren't?" You paused to catch your breath.

"No, we aren't."

You slowly turned your gaze to the left, meeting the ridiculous facial expression of your best friend; cheeks sucked in and eyes looking off to the side.

"Steve."

Then, a huge bout of laughter tumbled out of his mouth and you found your eyes scanning the interior of his car before landing on a half-full water bottle. Perfect.

Within seconds, you snatched it up and sent it hurdling towards the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Not funny, asshole!"

"Liiittle funny."

"Just drive, Steve," sighed Nancy, fingers kneading through her temples.

"Thank you, Nancy," you huffed, "at least someone here isn't a dick."

Cue another snicker coming from the driver's seat.

You rolled your eyes as the car started up, bouncing you up and down against the smooth, leather seats. It was kinda bizarre how this was a car from back in the 80s but was still the most expensive car you had ever found yourself sitting in.

Okay, maybe the 80s didn't suck that much.

You still missed your phone though.

Now, you would've happily continued reminiscing all of your memories with your beloved device, but—just then—your ears picked up on a sound; one you were awfully familiar with, the roar of an engine you couldn't bring yourself to ignore even if you wanted to.

Your hand moved on its own, wrapping itself around the handle of the door before pushing it open as you placed one foot out, your other following straight after. Now leaning on top of the door of Steve's car, you gazed straight forward.

Metallic blue; shiny and glinting in the sun's rays. At the bottom, a yellow number plate stared you right in the eyes: PCE 235. 

The left door clicked open and out came black boots paired with light blue jeans. Adorning them was a guy rocking a denim-on-denim look—blonde mullet rested comfortably on his head and striking, electric blue eyes scanning the parking lot with little emotion swirling inside.

Then, he made eye-contact with you, holding it for one, two, three seconds before breaking away, flicking his cigarette, and sauntering off in a way that exuded pure confidence.

There was no doubt about it, that guy was Billy Hargrove. And if he was Billy Hargrove, then that meant—

—the events of Season 2 had officially started.

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