#she's the only one of her litter that isn't a piece of shit

[lightningwaters]

[scuttlingcrab]

A Hellish Dealer

Inspired by the Merchant Raphael that could've been, but now only exists in our imaginations. RIP. Gone but not forgotten. Thank you @firlionemoontav for the prompt idea and letting me know that we were robbed of Merchant Raphael!

Summary: Raphael isn't only a saviour, but a proficient salesman. After coming to Tav’s rescue, again, he offers the little mouse an item, straight from his Devilish line of goods, that he hopes will aid her in the fights ahead.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via devils-little-mouse)

Tav gasped for air, clutching at her chest. Her temples pulsed, her skull vibrating along with each thumping heartbeat. Her throat burned as she inhaled, like she had swallowed a bucket full of coal. It made her want to vomit, a cold sweat dripping from her forehead. Tav shivered, struggling to sit up. She eventually found the strength to hug her knees in a sad attempt to warm herself.

Without warning, memories flashed before her eyes. Just moments ago, she had been falling, her body plunging into something sharp. Pain jetted through her chest, a searing sensation stemming from the pits of her soul. Her companions' screams echoed in the recesses of her mind, their pleas for help, cries of agony had blended into one… until there was only quiet, her entire world consumed by nothing but shadows. 

Tav blinked, her eyes caked with dirt. She rubbed away the grime, her mind scrambling, attempting to put the millions of shattered pieces of this reality back together. She loosened the laces of her tunic, hoping that would give her some more room to breathe. Her hands stopped abruptly, running over a massive tear in the middle of her chest. She looked down, eyes widening at the discovery that her entire tunic was covered in dried blood. She instantly reached for her back, feeling an identical rip between her shoulder blades.

Tav’s chest tightened, spots of black dotting across her vision. 

Breathe, Tav. Breathe. 

She felt the floor with her fingertips. Stones. It was damp, slippery. 

She’s still here. Breathe. That’s it. 

She turned her head, attempting to look around, to search for her companions… but her vision was hazy, the specks of black refusing to leave her alone. 

Tav’s nose itched and she suppressed a cough, tears forming from the corner of her eyes as the scent of sulphur suddenly assaulted her senses.  

A large black shadow came into view, looming above her ominously. She blinked again and the area around her slowly came into focus, the shapeless being forming a clearer silhouette… and then a face. Their features morphed into something familiar. Big dark eyes stared down at her, the irises briefly flickering orange, like tiny flames. They were tall, their hair short and brown… 

Wait a damned second. 

“Raphael?” Tav whispered, confusion contorting her face.

Raphael smiled wide, bearing his teeth. He wore the same shit eating grin from when they first met on that bridge, when this entire fiasco began.

“It seems you’re not very perceptive after all, despite my countless warnings.” 

“Your… W-what?” Tav coughed, blood splattering on her palms. She immediately wiped it away on her trousers, growing more disgusted with herself. 

“The infernal markings, scattered throughout this Mausoleum. So simple I had assumed even a half-wit such as yourself could’ve spotted them.” 

Tav swallowed, another lump forming in her throat. Now that Raphael mentioned it, there were a bunch of weird symbols littered throughout the doorways of that stupid fucking Mausoleum, and a few of those scribbles suspiciously resembled arrows. She had shrugged them off, thinking it was some kind of joke or just someone’s sad attempt at artwork. Not actual warning signs from the Devil himself… pointing in the right bloody direction this entire time. They had been lost for hours, going back and forth one twisted hallway after another.

Well, Karlach was right… and Tav was a fucking idiot. 

Tav stood abruptly, hoping to cover up her festering embarrassment. As soon as she rose, the room rotated, faster and faster like she was caught in the middle of a windstorm. The floor came up to meet her in a blur and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for another explosive impact. She instead felt a sharp tug on her arm as her body was yanked to one side, promptly followed by a pleasant embrace. Tav leaned into the hold, enjoying the stillness and melting against the comforting heat radiating from… 

She opened her eyes, only to find herself snuggled in Raphael’s arms, her head resting against his chest. She held her breath as she glanced up at him. He winked in response and Tav blushed, her cheeks catching fire almost immediately. That damned face, that damned Devil… she never thought his smile could get any more condescending.

Tav ripped herself away from Raphael, wobbling as she tried to keep herself upright without his support, but it only got worse. 

“Oh Gods, I’m going to be sic–” 

The sound of a snap ricocheted throughout the chamber walls, settling her stomach and the spinning room simultaneously. 

“The little mouse, ever so hasty to escape the hands that saved it. You nearly soiled my favourite pair of boots. I will have you know, these are quite expensive.”

Tav held her hands out wide to keep her balance, shaking away any lingering bouts of nausea. 

“My f-friends… what have you don…”

“Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Besides, I’d like a few more minutes alone with you.” Raphael paused, his eyes travelling up Tav’s body as if he was about to devour her for supper. “And please wipe that bewildered look off your face. Yes, that boney little cretin that lingers at your camp isn’t the only one who can bring mortals back from the dead. Now sit still, else you’ll ruin my handiwork.” 

There was another snap and Tav was transported away from the Mausoleum in a rush of sparks that tickled her skin. She materialised on a spacious balcony, her body gently fitting into a plush leather chair. The material stuck to her exposed skin like glue as she fidgeted. Tav inhaled sharply at the view, blood-red skies and an otherwise barren wasteland overtaking her vision. The air was thicker here, weighing on her shoulders like a heavy piece of armour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tav whispered, just as a dark Hellish cloud appeared on the horizon, growing more ferocious as it crept closer. 

Raphael sat in front of her, legs crossed and cradling a silver goblet. His eyes glimmered against the fiery skies of Avernus as he continued to gaze at her. Out of fondness or hunger? Tav had no fucking clue anymore.

A small table was placed between them, lined with a tray of refreshments.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’d like to offer you some commodities for the fight ahead.”

“Hold on. Since when are you , the almighty Raphael, scary Devil-man who threatens foolish mortals, a vendor?” Tav leaned back, laughing hysterically. She watched as Raphael’s smile faded, a menacing scowl replacing any hint of amusement that had previously occupied his face. “Gods, I must’ve really, I mean really, hit my head back there.”

Raphael’s neck twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he remained calm, taking a sip from the goblet. 

“There is a whole world of services you’ve yet to discover that only I can provide. I just so happen to have an entire line of goods that are simply too Devilish to keep all to myself.”

“Do you think I have any bloody gold left? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be done with this never-ending bullshit! As if this damned tadpole wasn’t enough, you have to be creeping and crawling around every corner! I’ve ju–”

Raphael leapt towards Tav, erupting into his cambion form. Tav cried out in shock as the table burst into flames, the bottles of wine and various jars of food exploding. She winced, covering her face to protect herself from the flying shards of glass. Raphael crushed the goblet in his hand like it was nothing but cheap, flimsy material. Wine oozed from his fist like blood, the liquid sizzling as it touched his skin.

He leaned closer to Tav, pointing a claw at her face. 

“I would hold that wretched, ungrateful tongue if I were you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing but a sack of flesh rotting on the shores of the Chionthar.” 

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Tav muttered, her words barely audible against the thunder from the approaching storm. 

“I cannot hear your pitiful squeaks, little mouse.”

“I’m sorry.” Tav said again, her voice shaking. “I-I w…” 

She hid her face in her hands before Raphael could see her weep. She felt humiliated. Actually worse, like she was a spoiled child having a temper tantrum. Ungrateful. 

Tav choked on her tears, her body trembling against each emotional wave that crashed against her, destroying what was left of her self-control. The sadness was suffocating, her exhaustion crippling. She was just so tired. Of everything. Everyone. Fed up with being bent and moulded like she was merely a piece of metal in a forge. It wasn’t only Raphael. No . But her companions, pulling her in twelve different directions all at once, each with their own personal vendettas. And that tadpole, swimming around her brain, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning from the voices in her head. 

It was too much. 

“Why did you bring me back?” Tav muttered eventually. 

There was a brief pause as thunder cracked through the air, a hot gust of wind blowing across her hands.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Raphael replied, softly. 

“I hope you make it quick then. So the next time I fall you can just leave me to die in peace.”

“Yes…” Raphael began, delicately peeling Tav’s fingers away from her face, lowering her shield. He placed his own hand on her cheek, the warmth from his palm drying the tears that fell. He held his hand there for what felt like an eternity, and in truth, Tav didn’t want him to let go. She tried to look away, but she was drawn into his gaze; those dark, deceitful eyes, slowly losing herself the more she stared into that welcoming abyss. 

“I think I’m satisfied.” Raphael continued, releasing Tav from his hold. “Consider that my first and only warning. Next time I won’t be so… generous.”

Raphael returned to his seat and Tav let out a sigh, pressing her fingers to her cheek where the remains of his touch still lingered. 

He clapped his hands twice and a massive wooden wardrobe appeared behind him. He twirled his wrist, opening the double doors and showcasing an endless expanse of weapons, armour, and potions. He swiped his hand and the thousands of artefacts flew past him at a rapid speed. He hummed thoughtfully until he raised an index finger and stopped the movement, staring at a large metallic staff in front of him. It floated patiently, the metal was smooth and twisted, almost like silver vines.

“That’ll do nicely…”

Raphael moved his index finger and the staff flew out of the wardrobe, hovering before Tav.

“Feast your eyes on this . It can detect creatures who might not want to be found, simply activate the barrier with an intermediate incantation and nothing can hide within its boundaries. I think it suits your strengths just enough to get this next job done.” 

The staff bounced in the air as it twirled, beckoning Tav to touch it. She reached towards the staff, but Raphael yanked it away with the flick of his wrist. 

“Tut, tut. I don’t just hand things out for free, not even to my most treasured customers. I can give you a discount, however.”

Tav opened her mouth in protest but Raphael raised his hand dramatically to silence her. 

“Those soul coins, I can hear them screaming from your person. A far more satisfactory payment for my services. I don’t stoop so low as to accept gold .” Raphael practically shuddered as the words left his lips.

Tav hesitated, her hand resting above her trousers.

“Come now, Karlach doesn’t need them. If you give her any more, she’ll likely explode before you reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“How did you… riiight .” Tav muttered, nodding to herself. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, yes, yes, I know.”

“Ah, has that tadpole riddled brain finally caught up?”

“Fine.”

Tav unclipped a leather pouch from her belt, digging her fingers inside it. She removed a soul coin and held it up to Raphael. 

“And for an additional soul coin I can throw in a few revivify scrolls, 4 for the price of 1. Seeing as you could barely walk the halls of the Mausoleum without falling into a trap meant for the undead. I simply don’t have enough time on my agenda to wait for you buffoons to drop like flies again. Which will undoubtedly happen, I can assure you. I might even bet you on it.”

Tav bit the side of her mouth, trying to keep herself from saying anything stupid to rile his temper a second time. She shook her head as she pulled another soul coin from the pouch. She placed both coins in her palm, extending it towards Raphael. He giddily accepted, snatching the Hellish currency in one showy movement. 

“Ta.”

Raphael inspected each soul coin carefully, rubbing his thumb over the jagged designs. He brought them to his ear, closing his eyes as he listened to music that Tav could not hear. He sighed with pleasure, nodding along to a silent melody. 

“Oh, how delicious. There is nothing that brings me more delight than the screams of doomed mortals. One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Raphael bounced the soul coins between his fingers, like he was trying to impress Tav with an amateur magic trick, until they vanished in a puff of smoke. The goods Tav purchased flew into her hands, nearly causing her to topple over in the chair.

“Well then, thank you for your business. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers crossed you can survive the next few hours. You know what’s at stake. Until we meet again.”

Before Tav could even utter her thanks, Raphael stood from his chair, gifting her with one of his flourishing bows. Her body was enveloped in another burst of sparks and just like that, she was swiftly returned to the Mausoleum. She unexpectedly found herself yearning for the stifling air of Avernus, her thoughts rushing back to Raphael. 

Tav stood in the same chamber, but she was no longer alone. Her companions were lying at her feet, just like the Devil had promised, groaning as they regained consciousness.  

“Gods, my head. That nearly ended us all…” Astarion whispered, jumping to his feet. 

“Yeah, what a fucking close call. Good job getting us out of that one, Tav,” Karlach added. She remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It would have been an undignified death.” Minthara said, rising to her knees as she released a healing spell. “And worst of all, my vengeance would have remained unquenched.”

Karlach laughed, using her elbows to lift herself up. 

“We’ll get that bastard Thorm soon enough, Minthara.”

Minthara huffed and the companions continued the idle chatter, their voices slowly fading from Tav’s focus.

Tav looked down at the metal staff in her hands, her grip tightening around it.

Right, she better not fuck this up. For all of their sakes.

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GUTS — johnny slaughter

WARNINGS: 18+, you're shorter than johnny in this (wiki says he's 6ft), f!soft-bodied!reader, sadistic!johnny (this man thrives off of other peoples pain he would enjoy it in bed too), light knife play, blood play, kidnapping, coercion, crying, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, typical tcm shit

A/N: please do not flag this for no reason, just block me. flagging my work as mature means it isn't seen by as many people in the tags when searched. Also!!!!, this is really long for no reason (4k words) AND I already have a multi part no slasher!AU in the works that's gonna be bordering on 10 chapters, knowing me it'll eternally be a wip tho...

Taking in a shaky breath, you hold it, willing the pounding of your heart to calm down as you listen for any movement around you. All you hear is the sounds of the forest, but still you sit and wait. You had been separated from the others that you had escaped with, though you suppose separated is the wrong word to use in this situation.

One of the girls that had been captured with you, a tall girl with matted brown hair and milky, bruise covered skin, had shoved you the second she had heard a noise from one of your kidnappers as they gained up on you. You had fallen down a pretty steep slope, thankfully lost in the heavy foliage that covered the ground and shrouded you instead of becoming the bait she wanted you to be.

It takes you more time than you would like to admit to get your bearings back, unable to see anything from under a bush. It hurts to breathe, and your vision is hazy from hitting your head on the way down. There's the sound of a too close chainsaw revving up above you, making the pounding of your head worsen, followed by the screams of the traitor that shoved you down the slope.

"Please, please, don't do this. I haven't done anything wrong!" She cries, as if she didn't just try to trade your life in for her own. You wince when you hear her scream again, drowned out by the chainsaw cutting through her flesh and blood splattering onto every nearby surface. The sound has your stomach curling, but a part of you feels that she had it coming for what she did to you.

When the stomping of the mask wearing man's feet are a distant, you allow yourself to breathe more comfortably, loosening up your death grip on the old piece of pipe you had grabbed as a weapon when you got out of your restraints. Your fingers ache, knuckles popping as they relax for the first time in what has felt like hours.

"That's what you get, twig ass bitch," you mutter under your breath. When your heart beat finally goes back to a more normal level, and you don't feel like you're about to shake out of your skin, you slowly drag yourself out from the brush, looking around the slowly darkening woods for a way to go.

Readjusting your grip on the pipe, you slowly make your way away from the chaos, hoping that they don't look down here for you.

You don't know where you're going or how far you've gotten, all you know is that you greatly regret putting on a skirt yesterday morning. Not only has it gotten caught on just about everything while you've been running for your life, but the humid Texas heat has caused your thighs to chafe something fierce, and it's starting to sting more than the cuts that litter your arms and torso.

Eventually, you find a shallow stream, and you quickly stumble your way to it. Dipping your fingers in, you sigh at the cool water against your sweaty skin. You carefully scoop some up into your hands, not wanting to make any noise as you press your face into your cupped hands.

There's a faint ribbon of red that you watch slowly get mixed into the water, and you dump it into the stream, watching it quickly disappear. You scoop up another cool batch of water, careful to keep any from spilling through your shaking fingers. It's as you're bringing your hands up to sip from the water that you feel all the hair on your body stand up on end, heart racing.

Looking into the trees, you slowly stand up, turning in place. You can't really see anything, but you know you're not crazy. You also know that you're absolutely fucked. The forest is not something you find yourself in often, or at all, really, and considering it borders onto these crazy fuckers property... they probably knew where you were the whole time.

You want to yell, to scream out your frustrations onto whoever it is that's following you. But your voice is dry, and even breathing has started to feel like too much, your voice cracking around the whispered words, "I-" you swallow roughly, eyes frantically looking around, "I know you're there."

You hear nothing around you, but you know. There are eyes on you. Just how close... you have no idea.

The next breath you take is shaky, eyes watering as you hop over the little stream. Taking another look around you and still finding nothing, you continue on your way.

Crickets jump around you as you carefully make your way to what you hope is safety, spooking you every time they jump in front of your vision. You're struggling for air as the mounting panic starts to cloud your senses, breaths coming in rushed puffs. Your heart is pounding in your ears, so loud that you don't hear the sound of someone walking behind you.

You let out a scream when the back of your shirt is grabbed and yanked, thrusting your elbow back as hard as possible and hitting them in the stomach. There isn't any give, a hard plane of muscle that probably hurts you more than them.

"Well! Look who we've got here!" The man says, a laugh coating his voice. His hand twists in your shirt, the collar of it tightening around your throat. With a rough yank your back is flush against his chest, and you catch the glint of his knife as he presses his fist into your stomach, the tip of the blade nicking the underside of your breast.

You hiss in pain, flinching away from the blade and bumping into his chest. The nearly too tight grip he has on your shirt disappears, but you aren't able to take a breath before that hand has come around to grip at your throat. The thick expanse of his calloused fingers press into your smooth skin, the pressure your neck a warning that has you freezing on the spot.

His fingers flutter, pressing into the sides of your throat, and the breathy sound you let out has both of you freezing in place. His chest pushes against your back as he takes in a deep breath, the exhale painting goosebumps along your damp neck. The man's grip loosens just slightly, before squeezing again. Another moan is pulled from you, and you can feel the man laugh against your back, the low tone sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh, am I gonna 'ave fun with you." The man drops the hand from around your throat, using it to grip your upper arm, steering you back the way you came. The tip of his blade is still scraping your skin, the constant pain seeming to send shocks all over your body. He takes a sharp turn that you aren't prepared for, a gasp leaving you as he shoves you up against a particularly thick tree.

The blade in his hand is dropped to the forest floor, his left hand cupping your cheek roughly as he directs your face up to his. His brown eyes are impossibly dark as they take you in, free hand palming your waist. He’s hiked up your flowy, flower patterned shirt, his big hand sliding up your torso to thumb at the cut under your breast.

You hiss in pain, but that only seems to excite him, the man bringing his blood covered thumb up to his lips, tongue poking out to guide the appendage into his mouth. The low moan that escapes him has you clenching your thighs together, eyes wide as you watch his thumb slide out of his mouth, traces of your bright red blood left on his tongue.

“Fuck, best thing 've ever tasted,” he mutters, hands moving to collect more of the slow trickling blood. Your hands are shaky as they grip onto his blood stained tank top, watching his face as he stares down at his hand, thick fingers disappearing into the meat of your breast instead of swiping up more of your blood.

He dips his head down to mouth at your neck, teeth unforgiving against your skin. His tight grip on you and the tree at your back keeps you from flinching away, at his mercy as his teeth work at your flesh. He doesn't break skin, but it's a near thing, a bruise no doubt starting to form already.

“Ah, hurts,” you whine, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. Despite the pain, you don't try to push him away, hands steadily holding his black tank. Hot puffs of breath dance over your damp skin as he laughs, running his tongue over the bruised flesh before pulling back to look at you.

“That so?” Hesitantly, you nod, heart pounding as you let your weight fully rest up against the tree, breathing shaky as his previously idle hand starts to palm at your breast. His large hand seems to engulf you, and you can't help but push into his touch. He's rough with this too, as you suspect he is with all things, groping you while he watches on with a satisfied look on his face.

Slowly, your fingers unclench from his shirt, and you press your hand flat against his chest. You can feel his warmth even through his shirt, hands trailing absently over his defined pecs. You watch your hands move as he chuckles, eyes flicking up to find him smirking down at you.

“Pretty little thing like you,” he starts, thumb running along your cheekbone, “bet you're sweet all over, ain't ya?"

The next breath you take is shaky, eyes wide and glassy as you stare up at him. He hums, head tilting as he observes you.

“Wanna know what I think?” He whispers, head dipping down again. This time he doesn't bite you, though there's still a twinge of pain as he sucks over the bruises his teeth had made. Your response is lost in your gasp, knees buckling at the unexpected current of pleasure that wracks through you. If it weren't for him pressing you against the tree, you would probably be on the ground right now.

“Think I'm gonna keep you all to myself. You'd be my good girl, won't you?” He moves up to mouth at your jaw, wet open mouthed kisses following his path to your mouth, “Whaddya say, think you could be Johnny's good girl?”

Through the fear pumping through you at the thought of what would happen to you if you said no, there's a part of you, a sick and twisted part, that really, desperately wants to succumb to this sadistic man's whims. You know saying yes would be just as bad as what will happen if you say no. There's no knowing what he would do to you, but that part of you frankly doesn't care.

“Please,” you whisper, letting your hands wrap around his broad torso, palms flat against his back as you press his muscular body against yours, as if he could get any closer, “so good. I'll be your good girl.”

You don't fight the hand on your face as he guides you, eyes fluttering at the close proximity of your faces. Johnny's eyes are crinkled at the corners, his smirk pressed against the corner of your mouth, “Good.”

Johnny's lips are aggressive as they press against yours, seeming to consume you as his tongue bullies its way into your mouth. There's nothing you can do but endure the attack, moaning and gasping into his mouth as his other hand continues to grope you.

Overwhelmed by the force of his kiss, you can't keep yourself still. Tree bark scrapes your skin with every shudder his skillful tongue pulls from you, but you barely feel it. All you feel is him, his all encompassing presence that looms over you and threatens to consume your very being.

Through his jeans and your skirt, you can feel his erection pressing into your lower stomach as you shift against him. The feeling of it seems to awaken something in you, a primal urge you've never felt before, your hands dropping from his back to pathetically fumble at the bottom of his tank. Once you get your hands on his skin you can't keep them still, running them up and down the warm expanse of his back.

You can feel slight imperfections on his skin, long lines of damaged flesh that match the scars on his face. You trace over them, letting your nails trail over his skin in your exploration. There's barely enough space between you to breathe, but somehow you're able to wedge your arms between the two of you to trace over his stomach.

The skin there is soft, though you can still feel the faint definition of the muscles beneath. You continue to run your hands up, though just as your fingers dance along his pecks the hand groping you is instantly grabbing your wrist, yanking it out and pressing your hand roughly against the tree next to your head.

“Not yet, I ‘ain't had my fun,” he mumbles against your neck, giving your bottom lip a little nip before he pulls away completely. He lets go of your hand, the other dropping from your face to pull up the bottom of your skirt. His big hands palm at your ass, fingers harsh as they squeeze.

All too soon he's stepping back from you, arms crossed as his eyes drag over your form. You feel squirmy under his gaze, fingers fidgeting with each other as you wait for him to say or do anything.

“Y’look like you have too much clothes on,” he says, and you can hear the hidden command in his words. You're quick to ruck your shirt over your head, the thin lace bra sticking to your sweaty skin. Trembling fingers take longer than you'd like to work the button of your skirt, though once that's open you're able to shove it down over plush thighs, letting it fall to the forest floor.

“That's it darlin’, why don't you get laid out real nice for me, huh?” He's leering at you, watching the way your body moves as you sit down on the forest floor. He seems to enjoy watching you follow his every command, hand absently palming his erection the whole time.

You're careful as you lay down, making sure to stuff your now dirt covered clothes underneath you as some sort of padding. There's still rocks and sticks that make it uncomfortably uneven, but at least they won't be cutting into your skin. Once you're settled, thighs clenched tight and hands fidgeting on your stomach, you look up at Johnny as you wait for instructions.

He hums, taking the few steps needed to stand at your feet, “Good girl.”

You can't keep the pleased hum down, watching him with wide eyes as he start's unbuckling his belt. He doesn't bother to take it off though, undoing the button and zipper before he's kneeling at your feet.

He plants both hands on your knees, pushing them open to stare down at you. You know you're wet, you can feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your skin uncomfortably. There's probably a wet spot too, and you turn your head away when you notice the smug look on his face.

A thick finger presses right over your hole, going as deep as the fabric can allow. Your pussy clenched at the intrusion, desperate for him to fill you. Rolling your hips up, you try to force the finger deeper, huffing when he pulls away.

“What a desperate little thing, hmm?” He slips a finger through the crotch of your panties, pulling them off of you roughly. You lift your hips to help aid the process, hands falling between your legs to cover yourself up.

"Thought you wanted to be my good girl," Johnny says, hand coming up to gently cradle the side of your face, a sharp contrast to his mean glare and condescending tone that he directs at you. Your heart pounds in your chest, legs falling open to allow him enough space to shuffle forward.

"I do. I- I am," you manage to choke out, slowly pulling your hands away from where you were covering yourself. Instead you fist them in his dirty shirt to try and bring his mouth down to yours, whining when he doesn't budge at your insistent tugging.

The smirk that spreads over his face sends a shiver down your spine, and his thumb glides down your cheek to prod at your kiss swollen lips. He tugs the bottom lip down, pressing the pad of his thumb roughly against your tender flesh.

"Open," he commands, and you do so without a thought. He's slow as he eases his thumb into your mouth, letting you lave your tongue over his calloused skin before it's easing further into your mouth. His thumb, thick and long and big like the rest of his fingers, teases at the back of your throat, and you feel tears collecting as you fight back the urge to gag at the intrusion.

He takes pity on you, slowly pulling his thick thumb from your mouth to then harshly press it against your clit. The rough pressure has your hips bucking, not knowing if you want to roll up against the touch or pull away. Johnny doesn't give you an option either way, thick fingers practically disappearing into your thigh to keep you still, gripping so hard you're surprised they haven't torn through your flesh.

You can't stop the desperate sounds that fall from your lips, your pleas garbled as your legs fall further open. His blunt nails scrape the delicate flesh above your clit as he abuses your sex, drawing loud, drawn out whines as you writhe on the forest floor. Johnny only seems to thrive on your suffering, shifting so that he can press two fingers into you at the same time. You're embarrassingly wet, so they easily slide in despite how thick his fingers are, relieving the empty feeling that has settled over you.

“Fuck, woman, you're wetter than all hell,” he's sat back to watch the way your cunt greedily sucks his fingers in, hips rolling down to match the thrusting of his fingers. Wet squelching fills the forest, your soft, breathy gasps barely heard over the sound.

Johnny crowds into your space, leaving a trail of bites up your neck and to your lips. The kiss is rough, teeth clicking together from the rough treatment before he comes in at a better angle. It's dirty and sloppy and wet, teeth biting at your bottom lip every time he pulls back to take a breath.

It's too much, a sensory overload that has your brain turning to mush. His fingers curl aggressively inside you, thumb rubbing painful circles on your clit. Slowly, your hands release the death grip they have on his shirt, unsteady as they move to thread through his short hair. The tight grip you have on his hair has him growling out a warning, the nip he gives to your lip drawing blood.

You hastily grab onto the back of his shirt, tears blurring your vision as you pull back from his lips with a desperate gasp. Heaving breaths escape your lips, moans and whines tumbling into pleas as you beg him not to stop. He presses a kiss to your forehead that's more teeth than lips because of his wide grin, a dark chuckle following soon after.

Hips rolling desperately into his touch, you chase the orgasm you can feel building.

“That's it, give it to me,” his voice is low, and the command sends a shiver down your spine, cunt clenching around his fingers. Your gasps get stuck in your throat, high pitched whines drowning out the sound of your arousal as you cum.

Johnny doesn't let up even after you've cum, fingers working at you at a brutal pace, bringing another orgasm that hurts as much as it feels good. You try in vain to pull away from his touch, but he just holds your hips down with his free hand, fingers working ruthlessly as you twitch and cry.

“Good girl,” Johnny finally lets up, pulling his soaked hand from between your legs. He licks a long stripe up his fingers, chuckling at the fucked out look on your face, “sweet as honey.”

You can't do much more than lay there watching him as he sits back on his heels, quickly pulling his tank top up over his head. His chest is littered with scars, and you can't help the way your eyes trace over each pale line that decorates his skin. They look like they were painful, and you're brushing a hand over one before you can even think.

Thankfully he doesn't get mad at you touching him this time, silent as he lets you explore. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft, a light dusting of hair trailing down from his belly button and disappearing into his pants. You let your nails trail through the hair, relishing in the deep sound that rumbles in his throat.

Lips pulled between your teeth, you can't help but admire the way his arms move as he works on pushing down his jeans. The muscles move under the flesh, arm as sturdy looking as the rest of him. You tug on the band of his jeans, inching them down over his legs, eyes laser focused onto his cock, no underwear in sight.

Your fingers wrap around his erection easily, swiping your thumb over the angry red head to collect the wetness there. The groan he lets out is heavenly, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand from him.

“We don't have the time for that right now, darlin’,” he says, shoving them down the rest of the way and kicking them off to the side. He pushes your legs up and open by the underside of your knees, shuffling forward to fill the empty space, “Now you be a good girl and hold these legs open for me, an’ I'll be makin’ you scream in no time.”

He lets go of your trembling legs the second you reach for them, grabbing the base of his dick and rubbing the tip through your folds, left forearm resting on the ground next to your head. It catches on your fluttering hole with every pass, a tease that has you whining for more, rocking your hips as much as you can.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but has only been a few seconds, he slides into you, letting go of his dick to rest his arm on the other side of your head. The stretch is painful, and you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He doesn't stop, merely laughing at your wince as his hips settle against yours.

There's no grace period given. His hips are pulling back before you can adjust to his girth, drilling into you with a deep and brutal pace that has you wailing. You can feel the sharp sting of your nails from how hard you're clenching your thighs, the pain seeming to heighten your pleasure.

Johnny's grin is wide and full of teeth, you can feel it against your neck. Then he's digging his teeth into the flesh, abusing the bruised flesh. You can't feel it though, lost in the haze of his cock pounding into you. You feel the breath being knocked out of you with every thrust, eyes blurry with the onset of tears.

Your throat hurts from your wailing, pleas barely distinguish whenever you're able to attempt speaking. Johnny either doesn't understand you or doesn't care enough to figure it out, laughing at your babbling. When he pulls back you can see blood on his lips and teeth, and then you feel the sting of the bite he left on you.

Johnny presses his lips to yours as your face scrunched up in pain, the coppery taste of your blood lingering even after he pulls away. You chase the taste off your lips with your tongue, unable to follow his lips as he sits up.

“Fuck,” he drawls, the voice drawn out as he bottoms out in you, watching the way your hips twitch to try and get any sort of friction, “fuckin’ soaked through that pretty little skirt you got layers out under you, best pussy I've ever had.”

Then there's a large hand fisting the hair at the back of your head, yanking your head back. Your yelp of pain is drowned out by the obscene sounds coming from your pussy while Johnny uses you as if you were a toy. Pace bordering on brutal, you hold onto your sweat dampened thighs as he chases his high.

He licks and nibbles at the still bleeding wound on your neck, drinking from you as his thrusts shift you across the forest floor. The salt from your tears sting as it hits the bite marks that cover your neck, a loud moan following when the taste of salt hits Johnny's tongue.

Thrusts becoming erratic, your only warning is his teeth clamping down on the side of your neck before you feel the liquid heat of Johnny’s cum filling you in bursts, pushed deeper into you by tiny thrusts. It's only when he finally stills inside of you that you are able to breath, taking big gasps as you gather yourself.

“Mmm, what a good girl you are,” Johnny mumbles against your neck, pulling back to look you over. You probably look a mess, hair frizzy from the heat and being yanked on by Johnny. You're also covered in blood, though Johnny probably relishes in the fact that he put it there. It's when his gaze settles on where you're still connected that you feel your face heat in embarrassment.

As he pulls out you can't help the way you whimper, desperate for him to fill you back up despite how tender your abused sex feels. The trail of cum that follows is quickly stuffed back into you by two thick fingers, plugging you up with his cum.

Large hands slide under your ass, tacky with your arousal. Your hands fall away from your thighs in surprise as he lifts your lower body off the ground so that you're resting on your shoulders.

“Probably tastes even better mixed with me,” he mumbles more to himself than to you. As Johnny licks a long stripe up from your fluttering, dripping hole to your clit, you find yourself melting into the pleasure that he is giving you, no longer caring about what will become of you when he's had his fill.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[candyvenombites]

Donmin Oneshot! 💙🩷

There isn't enough Donmin stuff out there so ima fix that by dropping a wholesome oneshot! Enjoy!

Strawberry Shortcake

by me! (candyvenombites)

⚠️A bit of cursing ⚠️

*CLANG* "Ow! Shit!"

Minnie sat up quickly in bed, waking up to what sounded like a pan crashing to the floor, along with a muffled cry. Living and working in a bakery, she knew that sound all too well, but wasn't used to hearing it at this hour. She groaned and turned her head to look at the miniature clock at her bedside. 3:30am. It was then that she noticed how cold the bed felt. She turned the other way, only to not find her soft boyfriend at her side. She sighed and slowly got out of bed, wrapped a robe around herself, then headed downstairs.

As Minnie approached the bakery kitchen, the familiar yet horrible smell of burnt sugar and cake filled the air. It was so potent that it made her eyes water. She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes, and opened the kitchen door. Standing in the kitchen frantically looking in a cookbook was her boyfriend, Donald Duck.

"Donnie?" Minnie said softly as to not scare him. As she spoke her eyes lingered around the room beholding the massacre of cakes, fruit, frosting, and various ingredients. Donalds head snapped up as he turned to look at Minnie. "Minnie! What are you doing up?" He quickly moved in front of the counter, trying to hide the horrors of the kitchen. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you baking? It's three in the morning!" Minnie raised her voice, slightly annoyed at the situation. Not only had she been woken up, but her kitchen was an absolute mess, and smelled even worse.

Donald nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well remember how you were really stressed about that order you got? the one for 15 strawberry shortcakes?" Minnie slowly nodded her head, the gears turning to piece everything together. She couldn't understand why she had accepted an order so big when she barely had any time. All she could really recall was sobbing in Donalds arms, overwhelmed by the stress of it all. "Well I wanted to help you. It's a big order and I know how stressed you were. I don't like seeing my girl upset..." Donald gave her a soft smile, which made Minnie blush slightly. "But...As you can see...It's not going well."

Minnie looked back to the mess that littered the kitchen, before her eyes looked to Donalds hands. Even in the dark, she could see the red and darkness on his palms. "Did you try to take something out of the oven with out mitts again?" She softly giggled, before going to grab a mop and bucket from the closet. "Heh...Yeah..." Donald sighed softly, before following Minnie to grab some supplies to help clean up.

After what felt like forever, they finally finished cleaning up the disaster that Donald had created. Donald slumped into a chair with sigh. He wanted to make Minnies job easier, but he just seemed to add more work. He wasn't the best baker by any means, but he couldn't stand to see Minnie upset. "Well, since we're both awake, how about we bake some of the shortcakes together?" Minnie smiled at Donald as she picked up the cookbook Donald had been using. "I'm sorry Minnie...I really wanted to make things easier for you, but...I just make things harder." Minnies smile faded seeing the sadness in Donalds eyes. He looked like he was about to cry. "Oh Donnie..." She hugged went over to Donald and hugged him tightly. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm so grateful that you wanted to help, and you still are!" Donald looked up confused "How?"

"By being here with me." Minnie placed a gentle kiss on Donalds lips, making him so as red as the strawberries he had been cutting. As Minnie pulled away, he smiled at her before getting all the ingredients out for the cakes. "Well...Let's get baking!" Minnie showed Donald step by step on how to make the soft vanilla cake for the shortcakes. Donald seem to absorb every word like a sponge. Too bad they weren't making spongecake. As Minnie placed the cakes in the oven, Donald was vigorously whipping the whipped cream in a big bowl, his face growing red from intensity. Minnie couldn't help but laugh. Donald turned his head around to face Minnie, before he put some whipped cream onto her nose. She pouted and took a strawberry, placing it on his bill. The pair laughed happily, enjoying the time they were spending together, and before they knew it, the cakes were done.

"Phew! That took awhile, but they all turned out amazing!" Minnie squealed and clapped her hands, looking at the beautiful confections in front of her. Donald picked her up and spun her around in a hug. "There's that beautiful smile!" He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. Minnie sighed happily looking into Donalds eyes. "Thank you so much for helping me Donnie. I really appreciate it." Donald blushed and chuckled "Just wanted to help you out Minnie." Minnie leaned against the counter. "Maybe you can help me in the bakery more often! Even if you can't tell the difference between powdered sugar and flour without tasting it, or that you constantly get eggshells in the bowl, or that you constantly drop ingredients, or-" Minnie was silence with a kiss from Donald, which she gladly returned. He pouted as they parted "Alright I get it. I'm no master baker. Phooey..." Minnie hugged him tightly, before they both left the kitchen to get some sleep. Minnie loved sweets, and thought she knew the best ones, but she now realized that the sweetest one was standing right beside her.

THE END

[james-silenthill]

3 6 and 24 for succession let's GO

screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

THIS IS THE ONLY PROOF I HAVE OF IT BUT OHHHH THIS ONE. this fucking one:

~

There was an era where all of my based on my likes was t*mgreg and not to hate gay people but I just dooont fucking care about it. It's funny but the entirety of the ship is tom projecting onto a statue because he can't talk to his beautiful wife. Anyways this made me pissed off because. I wonder why tom was handling this better. I fucking wonder why. That's not his dad!!! His lawyer mom didn't die! Shivs ceo dad did! Her dad! I hate the centering of tom on shit that really shouldn't even include him. And by proxy gr*g. He's handling it better because that's not his dad that was his father in law that was his boss and he Wanted logans position so. What the fuck ever. He was freaking out because Logan was the only guy in his corner because he fucked everyone else. Fuck off there was no way he was mourning logan in even the same way shiv was

which ship fans are the most annoying?

I shan't say... it falls too easily into the prev reply... but it's literally true. There was a time in s4 where I couldn't escape r*mangerri either but my eyes just kinda glazed over whenever the gifsets showed up. I'm perfectly ambivalent on rg idc about it but it's not like a tomgr*g situation but it's close to it. Like people were starting to ignore the weird sex thing he had with her and started just making her fully mommy 2. Shes not a cloth mother shes barely even a wire mother. I think gerri is a fun character but shes not a main character its okay if shes to the side a little bit. Which focusing on the mommy 2 thing to me is weirder than focusing on the weird sex thing even taking into account the problematicness of them two together. Not a r*mangerri btw I just see a lot of it for better and worse. Also addendum actually rg is a lot like tg in the way where roman/toms relationship with their side pieces are extentions of their main issues. Tom with his capital S Shit with shiv + roman with his runt of the litter livelihood. I'm not a romangirl I just believe their beliefs so lmk if that read is wrong but you must agree that the milf is Not his Main Deal his relationship with her is used to highlight his other shit

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

Despite everything I was really on the sidelines in succsesh so I need to think about this... I think one thing that personally pissed me off is the 'does logan love his kids' thing. Idk how controversial this is [if it is at all] but tbh. You can love your kids without liking your kids and you can be abusive despite the love. And saying that he Loved his kids isn't excusing any of his actions either? He loved his kids he viewed them as His they were like. Fucking collectors items. A genetic legacy. He loves them but he can't stand them. It's not really 'rancid' takes but I think it's insane when people say conflicting emotion or feelings can't coexist on the show where everyone is feeling conflicting emotions and feelings. Like saying that Logan loved his kids doesnt excuse the fact that he was abusive. Sorry for stressing that ive just seen takes that think love and abuse are exclusive concepts. I love you but I can't fucking stomach you yfm that applies for all the Roys all at eachother

[saltybean03]

Grisha.......

Good lord, this omen

Gripes with everyone and has a face only a mother could love. Fortunately he wears her head on his back like a tumorous growth because she's grafted to him

That's right, Grisha can graft, and he wears many faces once belonging to his opposition, one of which is on his crotch; the ultimate humiliation amirite?

Everything he says is disconcertingly aggressive and he's an evil asshole from start to finish

He calls Miquella a "whorish boyc***", other omens useless bags of bile and shit, and the demigods "weak whiny worms who love sucking on grace given tits." ✋️😭

He supports genocide, cannibalism, child sacrifice (he had kids of his own and ate them all so he wouldnt have to take care of them, not fucking joking), martyrdom, cruel and unusual torture, and the hunting of other covenants

Many have tried killing him but he never stays dead. He has means of reviving himself using catalysts constructed from pieces of his soul (think horcruxes from hp). Aint no telling how many there are bro, hes on his 115th rebirth or something

He comes from a place off the beaten path (like greywinde) called Niagtha, a huge underground poisonous swamp littered with the ruins of a lost era

Grisha is descended from a long line of isolated inbreds who were deemed true demons for their savage tendencies. Before anyone knew where they lived, there was a rumor or two that they were holed up somewhere on the outer reaches of Caelid. Niagtha is legitimately on those outer reaches, but no tarnished or other beast would be able to get there even if they had directions. Only a member of the family can pass through that swamp without being poisoned apparently

Other shit to mention..

His blood is like black sap, but it does not burn like omen blood, instead it oozes and makes everything it touches quickly decay

What little clothing he does wear, is made from skin. Much of it belonged to other omens

He's demigod sized despite lacking any royal blood (like Orifel)

He's been given a couple of names, but "merciless tyrant" happens to be his favorite

He owns a cursed blade likened to his savagery; it was forged from the remains of maidens he burned alive. When he isn't using it, he just casually shoves it into his side, lolol

His family doesn't follow any religion, not even the crucible. They're chaotic evil opportunists who argue amongst each other like toddlers. Mama usually gets the last word though, being she's more or less the head of the house.... 😂

Thats all for now about Grisha, byyye ✨

[evilcatgirlwizard]

now ok i would have to reread power of three and the next arc thats just power of three 2 but. formulating a rewrite. its bonking around in my head but hm what if i get every fact wrong. thinking

the only facts i know for sure is that Scourge n Firestar are from the same litter and Scourge gets to live and becomes a medicine cat. he does go through the horrors though, but thats ok. Scourge and Cinder1 teach Leafpaw, though Cinder1 dies on the journey and Scourge doesn't promote Leaf until half a year after they've gotten to the lake territories because he is Scared Of Losing Her. squirrel and leaf are generally Younger, and Squirrel doesn't get to follow after Bramble on The Journey (but someone else relatively young in Thunderclan does, undecided) because she is Maybe 7 Moons Old She Is Too Young. Squirrel/Bramble also just doesn't happen, Bramble is actually her mentor and still a piece of shit towards her. Scourge+Fireheart and Tigerclaw's first litter w/ Sasha (before he has a litter w/ Goldenflower) is Swift n Hawk and he has them around the same time the litter w/ Fire, Scourge, Princess, And Scourges Asshole Siblings happen. Princess and Fire have some mild birth defects that their breeder is adamant to get them fixed so they get separated from Nutmeg and the Scourges before any even open their eyes thus Scourge and Fire straight up do not even Know they're full brothers. Princess and Fire get their defects nudged into place before they start growing like a weed and end up going from the doc's straight to a new family each. Etc etc. Tiger's second litter (w/ Goldenflower) is Tawny and Bramble. He finds Sasha again when exiled and has one final litter w/ her, of just Mothwing. She ends up finding her older brother Hawkfrost who is like heyyyy look i get this clan stuff more than you heart emoji lets be besties here in Riverclan where I've been raised since dad hates to even look at us <3

wow none of that is comprehensible. eh. damn i didnt even get to The Three. well. they're ScourgeHawk kids because toxic transgender yaoi (which one is trans? wish i knew!), raised by Cloudtail and Brightheart, w/ the only folks who know being Squirrelflight and Leafpool (Scourge told CloudBright that he just Found Them, Leafpool knew something was Up and confronted her mentor who told her in confidence, and Leafpool couldn't keep it from her sister.) The fire scene is Squirrelflight standing in front of The Three, w/ Ashfur fully believing they're somehow Squirrelflight's kids (because hes stupid) meanwhile shes in Overprotective Older Cousin mode and ends up killing him <3. The Three see however and they gotta juggle the fact that their parentage is someone in the clan and the fact that Squirrelflight killed a man to protect them and that secret. waggles fingers. Tawnystar is also endgame, and Bramblestar isn't. Evil isn't genetic, Brambleclaw is just an asshole, Tawnystar is hailed as the best leader Shadowclan has had in generations because she's Good At Her Job (its the Goldenflower influence! After Tawny left for Shadowclan, Goldenflower followed her and also joined Shadowclan to keep her safe. Tiger was pissed and Golden acted as a barrier between Tawny and most shit, making sure her daughter grew into a strong woman. When Tiger takes over Shadowclan and moves into Riverclan, he executes Golden along w/ one BlueOak (maybe BlueCrooked tbh) kit and one GraySilver kit. Tawny leads the insurrection of Shadowclanners against him <3)

okok im gonna stop bc god most of this probably doesnt sense. goodnite

* NOTE: IF ANYTHING IS WONKY DONT @ ME IM STUPID. time is fake and i hate retconned familial connections unless theyre funny

[wildcardjoey]

Lucky you! I have a theory

So in the tale for the death of Dr. Clef contest where he says in the note he injected her with a concoction which litterally liquidated her, we already know he's lying by the end.

Of course he is. That's his thing. He lies. Thinking about his character for a bit and how he may or may not be older than he seems makes one wonder if the devil was made up by him as a cover identity. Assuming he is immortal.

But specifically he says he's going to take his own life and yet only pieces of his grey matter were present.

He was in the GOC for a while. I doubt he isn't aware he can survive a shot to the head. I'm also not convinced he doesn't know the exact chemical mix and amount to falsify there having been a liquidated body there. That isn't something anyone but clef specifically would know, but he's had to do wierd shit before.

So in the canon of that specific tale, I believe she's still alive, held up in a cabin somewhere Clef is confident the Foundation wouldn't find and he's taking a chance to actually raise a child for once.

average reality bender now a researcher after reading about what dr clef's plan for SCP-239

[corgiplays]

Thinking thoughts because I've seen so much Russian Robin content but I'm putting a switch on it

So short history lesson but Poland was under Russian rule soon after WW 2 and became a communist country and was freed after an election in 1990 so

- Polish Robin who was placed in a spy program after her parents caused issues for the government (more about this later)

- She was shipped off to Russia were she spend the rest of her teen years training

- She was there when Alexie was told he had a year to fix whatever went wrong with their attempt the first time

- Robin definitely tried escaping back to Poland a few times but ended up getting caught and faced serious repercussions (omg is that Enzo?)

- She is technically Steve's age but because when she came to America her english was like nonexistent she was held back a year

- She was in the states since 1983 in Alaska but after reports of the chemical leak in Hawkins she was sent there for the rest of 1984 till season 3 starts

- Buff Robin enough said

- She tries to convince Dustin that whatever he got on the recording wasn't Russian but after a long debate she gave in to help them because she thought they'll think it's from Russia but after Steve pointed out the Indiana Flyer ride Robin knew she was in deep shit

- Robin was forced to tell the commander what's happening and got the shit beat out of her for translating their code to Americans but she promised that she'll keep them away

- During the interrogation the commander makes a comment about Robin being Polish but Steve never noticed the comment, he also makes a remark how Alexie was a traitor and that she'll wish she could meet with him instead (aka she'll wish she was dead)

- Of course that doesn't happen as Steve and Robin are saved by Dustin and Erica but the Soviet Union isn't too happy with what happened, so they send a mission file to Robin stating that she has to stay and keep an eye out for anymore Upside Down activity

- No one knows what Robin's real motives are because she doesn't want to lose her only friends

- After season 4 when Hopper gets dropped off by Enzo, Robin is there and ends up cornering him with a gun pointed to his gut and forced to tell her everything he knows

- Vecna uses Robin's trauma against her and once she's saved she slips back into her survival mindset and starts to only speak Polish or Russian while lashing out if anyone got too close

- The gang does find out about Robin's affiliation with the Soviet Union and their horrified, some broken translation from when she went into her survival mindset and an attack by a Russian spy helped put the pieces together

- Everyone distances themselves from Robin because how can we trust her after this but El keeps in touch with her because she's still Robin

- Robin tries to sacrifice herself to save the party because they will never trust her again and see lost all of her friends because of this but thanks to El for being so nice Robin doesn't die

————

- Robin is littered with scars, her least favorite is the Soviet Union brand on her torso (on the left side under her ribs) along with multiple cuts, scrapes, bullet wounds and some scars done by herself (once everything is fixed Nancy kisses all of Robin's scars so she feels better about them)

- Robin loves the snow especially when it snows at night because she has her happiest memories then

- Absolutely amazing at making Polish foods and deserts and the whole party loves it too which makes Robin happy because she gets to share her culture with her favorite people

- Has awful nightmares and her and Hooper end up trading stories of their times in a Russian Prison because they know their not alone in their fear

- Dresses baggy and more masculine because of the scars and how much she hates her body for being exactly like the Russians wanted it for a spy

- Has a surprisingly difficult workout routine because of her spy training (Steve gave up after 5 sets of one exercise, Nancy sits on Robin's back while she does push ups)

- Has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance

- Knife tricks

————

Completely forgot Poland was once communistic which is sad because I'm Polish but wooo

Honestly this came out of the blue but I like it

[syddsatyrn]

Looks That Kill (EddiexFemreader)

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Fluff, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, bullying, Characters are all 18+ Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 3k

☆Summary: Eddie takes you out to meet is friends, when things get quiet, he confesses how he really feels. Your relationship is getting interesting and you cant stand to be away from him for too long.

☆Notes: This is Chapter two! Please read the 1st chapter below for some context. Keep an eye out for chapter 3, because that one might get spicy.

Chapter 1: A Piece of your Action

Chapter 3: Heaven's on Fire “So, do you get milkshakes thrown at you weekly? Orrrr…” You inquire. Eddie laughs and pulls into your driveway. “Sometimes. Only when I really piss them off.” He jokes. “Got a pen?” You ask Eddie as you retrieve the receipt from your purchase earlier. He hands you a stray pen stuck between his dashboard and windshield. You write your number down on the back and hand it to him. Eddie seems to be taken by surprise. He looks down at the paper, all the digits are actually there. “Thanks for the ride. Call me sometime, Munson.” You exit the van and waved goodbye, but when you spun around on one heel, your mom was sitting in the front doorway. “Oh here we go.” You get about half way up the driveway before Julie starts playing the game ��twenty questions. “Y/N, Who was that?! What are you covered in?” She asks frantically as she moves some of your sticky, milkshake soaked hair away from your face. “Don't worry about it, I'm fine, Mom. It's just a milkshake.” You respond with a calm tone. Julie is puzzled as you make your way into the house, she trails behind you.

“Who drove you home?” she asks again, noticing the avoided question. “Just a friend.” You say with an upward tone. Mom has resorted to giving you “the look”. “It's nothing!” you brush off any significance. Mom softens her face and you take the opportunity to discontinue this conversation. “I’m gonna go shower!” You announce as you fly up the stairs. All you could think about was the interaction between you and Eddie. It’s your second day here and you’ve already made a friend, a really cute friend. You attempt to focus on showering, but it's proving to be difficult. Eddies POV: “No way did I just talk to a girl without making a fool of myself.” He asks himself in disbelief. He starts the van and takes off. He looks back down at the receipt and grins from ear to ear. “YESI” Eddie shouts and slams his hands on the steering wheel. He presses a couple buttons on his stereo, turning up the volume allowing “Hallowed Be Thy Name” by Iron Maiden to blare through his speakers. Pulling up to his trailer, Eddie notices his uncle isn't home. He hops out of the van and places a joint between his lips. Usually Eddie doesn't have much to look forward to besides his Hellfire DnD club and band practice. He lights his joint and walks inside, the living room is a little messy. Beer cans and a full ashtray litter the coffee table. “Whatever you do, don’t fuck this up.” He says to himself. “Shit, when should I call her?!” He's not used to this kind of feeling, he definitely doesn't want to come off as desperate. He makes his way to his bedroom and flops back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. You're like a breath of fresh air, someone he can relate to. Plumes of smoke escape his lips as he lets his mind wander. “I wonder what her favorite band is…”

Day 3 in Hawkins You decided to stay home and organize your room. There are still boxes you still need to unpack, and several letters you need to write for some friends back home. The house is rarely quiet so you take the opportunity to sit down and write. Placing your headphones over your ears, you hit play on the portable cassette player your dad got you for graduation. 🎵“You're fire, taking me higher Don't burn me, don't let me down You need me now, I'll teach you how Come on and go all the way Get your piece of your action Ah uh Get a piece of your action”🎵 Despite how loud the music is, you can hear your mother knocking at the door yelling about something, you pull the headphones off. “Y/N, phone call!” She shouts and you’ve never hopped out of your bed so fast. Your mom had a phone installed with a long telephone cord in the upstairs hallway so you could easily take it in your room to ”receive calls from colleges.” “Hello?” You answered, pressing the phone to your ear while taking the receiver to your room. You shut the door behind you and a familiar voice greets you back. “Hey there, milkshake.” Eddie teases. “Whatever, Munson. That treat was for you and you know it.” You clap back and Eddie tries to suppress his laugh. “What are you doing later?” He inquires, your eyes get wide. “Uhm, nothing.” You reply nervously. “That’s what I thought. Wanna come to band practice with me, loser?” “Oh?...you play?” You question, trying to cover up your excitement. Eddie can't help but smile on the other end of that landline. “Yeah, lead guitar. Can I pick you up at eight? Or is that past your bedtime.” “I dunno, will your folks let you borrow the van for that long?” You snicker. Eddie chuckles at your ability to hold your own. “See ya then, milkshake.” Before you can protest the nickname, the phone clicks and you hang up. Your first date since moving to Hawkins. You’ve dated a couple guys here and there, but the relationship usually fizzles out mutually. Most guys are really put off by your clothing and music choice, but you don't have to worry about that when it comes to Eddie. You can't help but hop around your room, you're almost floating. You don't think you’ve ever been this excited about a date. Is this a date? It's definitely a date.

You finish up your letters, even though you're extremely distracted. You add stamps to the envelopes and head downstairs, practically skipping to the mailbox. You place the letters inside and put the red flag up. When you return inside, you’re greeted by your interrogation. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Mom asks, cocking her head to the side. “Nothing! Oh! I'm going out later.” You reply, trying to downplay the whole thing. “Is that boy in the van picking you up?” She asks, you can tell she's teasing you. “Yeah he is, why?” You question her judgment. Julie has always been pretty open minded, but she can be terribly over protective.  “Just be careful! You've only been here for three days, don't go get yourself into trouble.” Julie says in a worried tone. She’s always worried, and you know she means well. But sometimes she drives you crazy bonkers with her doting. 

"I'll be fine, mom." You reassure her as you head back upstairs. 

Your eyes dart between two outfits. You choose a black pleated skirt, with black thigh high socks. You previously altered a black t-shirt by cutting off the sleeves and the collar. You dig through your closet and find your leather jacket. To top off the look, you add some messy eyeliner.

When you go downstairs, your boots are always a loud announcement. Eddie's headlights pull in and brighten your driveway, he's right on time. "Don't wait up for me!" You call out before shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep breath as you walk in front of his van and open the passenger side door. You plop yourself down into the seat. 

"You didn't have to get all dressed up for me." Eddie says with that dumb smirk plastered across his face.

"What are you trying to say, hm?" You respond as you shoot Eddie a look.

"That you..uh…look nice." He faltered with a cheeky grin, dimples now on display.

You pull up to an old car repair garage. There are a few guys in the front smoking cigarettes, one of them punches the other in the shoulder.

"My buddies dad owns this place and lets us play here." Eddie says, "No jocks here."

You both get out of the van and one of the guys yells Eddie's name. "You're late, Munson!" Suddenly all eyes are on you. 

"Stop gawking or your face will get stuck like that." Eddie says. "This is Y/N. She's new in town." He says and looks back at you. "So let's act like fucking gentlemen!" He says, smacking one of them in the stomach. "This is Jeff and Gareth." He introduces, pointing at each member.

Eddie opens the door and ushers you inside the garage. You take a good look at each instrument. The bass drum says "Corroded Coffin" on the front. "Wow…sweet setup. I'm impressed, Munson." You compliment and take a seat on the nearby couch. 

"Then prepare to have your mind blown." He says, cocky as ever. You rather enjoyed seeing him shake his tail feathers as an attempt to impress you. The boys take their places and tune up.

When they start playing you're surprised they are not complete shit like other garage bands you’ve heard. Despite all the excitement, you're still focused on Eddie. You’d be lying if you said you didn't have a fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach. He’s gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare. His ring clad, calloused hands skillfully pressing on specific strings. You find yourself daydreaming about how those hands would feel against your skin. How his long, curly hair would feel between your fingers. Oh and those lips- “Hellooo, earth to Y/N.” he waves his hand and you snap out of it, your cheek bones stained red. “There you are, milkshake!” He says with a smile as you descend back to earth. “Sorry, I got lost in my own head. You guys sound pretty good for a bunch of posers.” You joke and the band cackles. This makes you smile a bit especially when Eddie’s band mate says “Where did you find this one, Ed?!” They played a few more songs. But there was one in particular that caught your attention. It's a song from your favorite album “Shout at the Devil '' by Mötley Crüe.

🎵“Now listen up She's a razor sharp If she don't get her way She'll slice you apart Now she's a cool, cool black She moves like a cat If you don't get her name Well, you might not make it back” She's got the looks that kill, that kill, oh She's got the looks that kill, that kill, oh She's got the look (She's got looks that kill She's got looks that kill)”🎵 The entire time he and his friends played that song, Eddie kept sneaking glances at you. You nervously smoothed out your skirt and spun your rings around your fingers. Seeing Eddie in his prime, in his element, made you look at him differently. He’s not just some comical outcast with a bad boy streak. He’s passionate, creative, and very talented. They finish the song and Eddie puts his warlock guitar on a stand. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket, but the box is just for show. He pulls out a joint and lights it. You’re not really surprised. You breathe a sigh of relief, you don't have to explain to him how much of a stoner you are. “You smoke?” he asks, extending his arm. You get up from the couch and take it, inhaling as much as your lungs will allow. When you exhale you close your eyes. “I ran out the other day,” you say between a few coughs. “Y’know anyone who might give me a deal?” “You’re lookin’ at him.” Eddie says proudly, his smug face making you laugh even more. You hand the joint back and raise your eyebrows. “I knew I liked you, Munson.” You say while gently bumping your shoulder into his. Eddie was trying to play his cards right. There is something about you he can't shake from his mind. He feels like you’ve infected him with some sort of virus. This feeling is foreign to him, you’re ‘different’ in all the good ways. In a town full of cheerleaders and jocks, you are his breath of fresh air. Eddie realizes he’s spaced out. “Uh, lemme uhhh go get you some of the good stuff.” He says trying to retreat to his van to compose himself. You can tell he's a little flustered, maybe he's just high? His bandmates call out “Hey dude, we’re gonna bounce.” Jeff says. “Give you some privacy with your new lady friend.” Gareth mocks, followed by a laugh. “Same time next week?” He asks. “Yeah, same time next week.” Eddie confirms. “Don't be late next time!” Jeff gets in the last word and slams his car door shut, engine already running. The three boys take off in the same car. Eddie grabs an already bagged up ounce of weed and shuts the van door. He returns and hands you the bag, you open your backpack and take out your wallet. “Don't worry about it, sweets. Consider it a welcome gift.” He smiles and you take the plastic sandwich bag from his hands and place it in the inside pocket of your backpack. You’re not the kind of person to turn down free weed. “Thank you! You are really sweet for a degenerate.” You smile back and he chuckles. Eddie takes two steps closer to you and your body stiffens. “I should probably take you home, huh?” He says towering over your small frame while your eyes immediately lock with his. Such dark brown eyes, like two warm cups of black coffee. Eddie brings his hand up and moves a few hairs away from your face. He drags his thumb down your jawline and tilts your chin upward. You couldn't handle this tension anymore, you felt frozen in time. The tension between you both has been building from the start. Your face gets hot and you ball your fists. Without any warning, you stood on your toes and crashed into Eddie’s lips. He combs his fingers through your hair and holds the back of your head. You bring your hand up to his chest and take a handful of his shirt. His cheap cologne mixed with the smell of cigarettes is intoxicating, it surrounds your senses as he leans into you. This soft kiss evolved into something needy and desperate, turning into a short make out session.

Eddie breaks away with wide eyes and a shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. “I…” He attempts to form a sentence but you cut him off. “Look, I’m not gonna feed you a line of bullshit or beat around the bush. I like you Eddie, like…a lot.” You admit, and he can't help but smile and kiss your forehead. “I like you too, sweet stuff.” He replies and you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands begins to twirl and play with his long curly locks. Something you’ve been wanting to do ever since he lit your cigarette in front of Family Video.

Eddie opens both of the back doors to his van and you have a seat, legs hanging off the edge. Regardless of the jacket you brought, maybe a skirt was a bad idea. The temperature dropped significantly throughout the night, a shiver runs up your spine. Eddie places his warlock guitar gently in the back of the van and hops back out. “You ready to go, lovely?” He asks and you nod followed by another shiver. “Not used to the Hawkins weather yet, huh?” He asks with a chuckle. He hops back into the van and retrieves his spare denim jacket with a large Metallica patch on the back. “This outta fix it.” The metal head promptly covers your bare legs with the jacket and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. 

This particular act of chivalry made your heart flutter. Eddie holds out his hand, “We should get you home.” You make your way to the passenger seat and Eddie takes his seat and starts the van. You shakily light a cigarette and tuck the jacket around your thighs. Eddie pulls out of the driveway and gently places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “As much as I love your outfit, and I mean it, I really do. Next time wear warmer clothes hmm?” He suggests with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “You’ll catch a cold.” He adds. You give him a quiet “Okay” and hand him the cigarette you were camping with.

As he pulls into your driveway you feel a little sad that this night has to end. But he turns to you and puts the van in park. You try to return his jacket and he shakes his head. “Hold onto that for me, okay?” He requests while leaning in closer to you for one last goodbye kiss. You meet him halfway and press your lips against his. All of this attention was new and foreign to you. “I could get used to this…” You thought to yourself as Eddie placed his hand on your cheek.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear, his lips ghosting yours.

“Absolutely.” You say with a smile and take Eddie’s hand. “I hope I can wait that long.”

Eddie places a few kisses along your knuckles. “Goodnight lovely.”

After making your way into the house quietly, you take off your boots and silently walk up the stairs. The alluring metal head is clearly all you can think about and you wonder how someone could have so much charm. You enter your room and shut the door carefully. Time curl up in bed with his jacket draped over you, surrounded in his essence, and drift off to sleep peacefully.   

[ren-therose]

Prove Your Mine

Bo Burnham X F!Reader (WC: 2.5k)

Summary: Bo is being interviewed when he sees another guy bothering you. Though you handle it, he still wants to prove to you that no one else can have you.

Warnings: My most graphic smut so MINORS DNI. TW: inappropriate sexual misconduct in the workplace. oral sex f receiving. penetrative unprotected sex. maybe a little on the breeding side. possessive bo

A/N: As I said, my most graphic fic, so be warned. I have other bo content that doesn't get as detailed (though still very descriptive), and they can be found here. Comment, like, share, yadada, you all know the drill.

Thank you to the two requests that inspired this piece! They are linked here and here if you're curious.

---

Behind the glass of the recording room, you leaned back as Bo worked his boyish charm as the interviewer continued to ask question after question. It wasn't often that you were able to join Bo, especially since you were doing a lot to provide for yourself with our own career (it was that ambition that drew him to you in the first place). When your schedule allowed you to join him for a press day, you couldn't help but jump on top of him and give him the biggest hug you could muster. Meetings with Netflix, a few magazines and a nice lunch in LA, you were now enjoying the way he lit up talking about the work he does for this radio show.

You leaned back in the office chair, leg crossed over the other, with your foot bouncing. You arms were perched on the sides of the chair, showing off you black blouse and blue jeans that matched him. Your hair was half up and half down, casual, but still nice. Bo never got tired of how you looked so good all the time: when you wake up next to him, when you come home from work after a long day, or being sick in the bathroom while he holds your hair back. He also loved that you made an effort to match, down to the high tops you wore.

"Yeah no, I love making my own content, because who the fuck else is gonna understand what I go through? So I throw the comedy back in their faces, trying to get them to see the tru-what? Oh shit, I can't say fuck? OR SHIT??" Bo eyes widen and he collapses back into his chair, hands gripping his hair. "Jesus christ, I wish I had known before, I'm sooo so sorry, can we keep going?"

You laugh, as the interviewer explains that anything more than two fucks will make the show R-rated, so he needs to watch it. As you smile, making eye contact for a brief second, the door behind you opens and man is standing next to you, leaning against the tabel as he stares at your boyfriend.

"Is this that fucking comedian from like, 2010 or some shit?"

You uncross your legs and spin to face this asshat face on. "What did you just say about him?"

The man's eyebrow quirks up, raking his eyes over you with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you a fan? I didn't mean to offend you; I just thought someone as pretty as you would have better taste than a washup musici-"

You launch out of your seat and plant yourself between the man and the window.

"Already, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you have a lot of your information. Maybe do some research on the people who are going to be working with you" you say, jabbing a finger into the man's chest, pushing him slightly as you sit back down, softly letting out a string of insults under your breath.

The man looks surprised, and also impressed. You glance at Bo, whose brow was furrowed.

Shit, he must have seen that. You think to yourself.

You give him a thumbs up and a big smile as he looks back at the interviewer, continuing on. Your cheesy grin drops and your arms cross as the man leans back against the desk to stare at you once more.

"Usually, I'm not into a woman who is so in control-"

"How surprising," you interject, rolling your eyes.

"Aha. But, your bossiness is highly attractive..."

He leans forward, eyes landing on the open buttons of your shirt before coming back up to your face.

You scoff, "As appealing as it is to lie and say I'm single and simple don't want to go out with you, I actually have a boyfriend I love and isn't a dick, so I won't be leaving him anytime soon."

With that, you roll away from him to look at Bo. He is laughing, slapping his leg and running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was probably reaching his limit, and move to the intercom connected to the earpieces he and the interviewer had. As you press the button, the douchebag in a suit leans over your shoulder, brushing the hair off your neck and leaning down to your ear to whisper "but could he fuck you like I could?"

Your finger flies off the button as Bo's jaw drops at the words filling his head. Before he can even get out of his seat, you are grabbing the man by his lapels and pushing him against the nearest wall.

"Listen, you little bitch-ass, sexist, predatory fuck," you reach down and grab the man by the crotch, twisting his balls and dick in your fist, "first, you're gonna apologize to me. Second, my boyfriend just saw all of that, so you get to deal with that and apologize to him as well. Then, you're gonna go tell your manager that I want to speak to her, and if you even attempt to twist (as you squeeze him tighter) the truth, remember the two other witnesses who heard what you said."

The mans face was beet red as sweat dripped down his temple. He was barely breathing, afraid to move. "Answer me, fucker!"

"Yes! Yes!" he cries, a single tear falling from his eye.

"Good!" you say cheerfully, letting go of the man's junk. Just as he tries to scurry away, you grab his arm and say "by the way, it's kinda small, you might need some kind of enhancer because I wasn't impressed at all."

The man looks like he might explode, but rather than risk castration, he practically runs out the door.

"Uhh, do you think she's got it" you hear a voice say over the speaker.

You eyes widen as you realize the mic was on the entire. time.

Bo raises his eyebrows, a clear code for "da fuck babe?"

"Yeah. She's got it. Are we done here?"

--

When Bo exited the booth, you were sitting with your face in your hands, embarrassed by the altercation that everyone just heard and saw.

"Hey Dick Crusher," he mocks, coming to pull you up.

"Noooo, please don't say that Bo," you whine, standing up, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and deliver a bear hug.

"Oh no, that is never going away. That was incredible. Did you get that from Deadpool?"

You pull away to look up at him and reply, "how did you know?"

"Because every guy in the movie theatre collectively groaned at just the idea of being manhandled that way," he said with a shudder, turning to put his arm around you as you both exited the room.

"You're not mad?"

Bo stops and turns to you, surprise etched on his face. "W-why would I be mad at you babe? It's not like you enabled him. He was eye-fucking you the minute he walked in the room."

You look down, reaching to button your top to cover your chest a little more.

"Hey, babe, you don't have to do that. He just needs to learn to noT BE A PERV!" Bo yells down the hall. You laugh, wrapping your arm around his waist as you leave the building.

---

You get back to your place after a ride that consisted of talking about how weird the recording booth smelled and that they guy wanted to interview after that 'horrifying and impressive' tiff.

When you get inside, Bo goes in to put down your purse and keys on the table as you pull off your shoes by the door. Leaned over, your hair falls to the side and your shirt gapes away slightly, allowing your boyfriend to see the soft slopes of your breast. As you go to stand up, Bo stalks towards you, trapping you between him and the door.

"Uuhh, hi?" you say nervously. You still got butterflies around him, even after knowing him for so long.

Bo reaches up to your top, unbuttoning your top one slowly, pulling it away from your chest as he goes to the next one. Instead of undoing the button though, he drops his hands down to your ass, patting you gently before lifting you up the door. You are now level with him as he goes back to your buttons. His breath is warm against your neck, much more comforting than that creep could have ever been.

"Are you thinking about the way he breathed on you?"

The hairs on your neck stood up as he read your mind, moving to the third button now.

"Hm? You want to answer that?"

You breath out softly, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you reply, "nothing feels like you Bo. Only you can make me feel good..." you whisper, leaning your head back against the door as he continues to ghost over your neck. He has finished unbuttoning you and was pulling the top away to reveal your bra and abdomen.

"You got that right." He plants a wet kiss on the crook of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly. "You're fucking mine."

You pull him by the hair so that you can see his eyes as you say the next two words: "Prove it."

The next thing you know, you're being thrown on the bed as he attacks your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. His knee is between your legs as you grind against him, trying to find relief in the friction he granted you. He moved from your lips to your jaw, under your neck to your collarbone. He is marking each place his mouth lands, littering hickeys and love bites like it was the only way to claim you.

You moan, arching your back into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slip his hands underneath you and unclasping your bra. Once it is thrown somewhere in the room, he attacks your breast, assaulting your nipple with his tongue while his hand squeezes your ass.

"He fucking stared at my tiddies," he mumbles into your chest, causing you to laugh. He pulls off of you and stares with concern and annoyance.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure they were my tiddies," you smirk, shimming your chest in his face.

"Nope. Your tiddies are my tiddies." He bites your nipple softly, causing you to cry out as the throbbing between your legs increased.

"God, Bo, I''m yours, I'm all yoouurrs..." you groan, running your hands through your own hair, pushing it out of your face.

Bo continues to make his way down your body, reaching your jeans with frustration. He sits up and unzips your pants before shimming you out of them, panties and all. Before he goes down, he removes his shirt and pants, giving you the chance to admire the man that you loved.

"And all of that is mine," you growl.

"That's fucking right," he says before diving between your legs. The time to tease is gone, all he wants is for you to be in tears over what he can do to you.

You're breathing is shallow as he runs his tongue through your folds over and over, the wet friction on your clit driving you crazy. One hand in his hair, the other gripping your breast, you feel yourself reaching the a high.

"Bo don't stop, I'm gonna cum, you're gonna m-make me c-c-OH!"

You're arching into his mouth before you can finish your sentence, his arm holding you in place as you ride out your high...on his face.

As you try to catch your breath, Bo sits up, revealing his painfully hard and dripping cock.

"I'm gonna take that fucking pussy and remind you of why it's mine," he mutters, almost more to himself than you. He wasn't the jealous type, but the way that guy had tried to manhandle you in front of him? It pissed him the fuck off.

He pumped himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and you, just barely connecting.

"Show me Bo. Make me yours."

That statement was all the encouragement Bo needed as he slid into you, taking his time to really stretch you out. He was big, and you were filled by his cock, in ways you had never been before. You could feel him in your stomach if you pressed your hand bellow your naval.

The feeling made you weak and your elbows gave as you collapsed against the bed.

"Always so tight for me. So wet. And it's all for me, no one else," Bo whispers, beginning to slowly rock his hips as he moves inside of you. Your body reacts, contracting around him, causing to twitch.

"Hey, I won't last if you squeeze me like that," he pants, already feeling like he could paint your inner walls with his load.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him gently before stating: "show me what no one else can do."

Bo's hips snap into to you, causing a sharp gasp to escape you. He continues to rail you into the mattress, barely able to completely sheath himself inside of you because of his size. You moan as you reach behind you to grip a pillow, pulling it over your face as you take him with each thrust. You finally throw the pillow and open your eyes to see him holding your thighs as he slams into you relentlessly.

The site of that alone would have made you cum had it not been for the fact that he just so happened to slide his hand down to your already sensitive bud and tweak it in circles. You cry out, tears filling your eyes at the stimulation.

"Bo, I need you to come inside me, please, make me yours baby, I need your cum inside me..."

Bo's eyes roll into the back of his head but he returns his focus to watching your face scrunch at the beginning of your climax.

"Cum for me baby, I'll cum inside you, just squeeze my co-oh, yes, just like that baby, fuck"

You let out a short scream before biting your wrist, your head pulling back as you cream his dick, pulsating and throbbing around him as he spills into you, warm and sticky as he fills you.

"You're mine Y/n. All mine baby," he grunts, bucking into you a few more times as he rides out his high.

---

Both showered and clean, you were cuddled in bed together, your legs in his lap as he rubbed your feet and you played with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"So he was really trying to diss me like that? Why would they invite me if they don't fucking like me?"

You laugh, shaking your head as you reply, "I know, right? It was awful, and who treats a guest like that? Such a creep."

"Hey."

"hey."

"Thanks for standing up for me."

"I love you Bo."

"I love you more, Y/N."

----

A/N: Now this, this was my most graphic fic yet, jesus. I hope you enjoyed- feel free to send in some more requests or suggestions. I like the feedback and reading your comments and reblogs! Bo Burnham masterlist and TAGLIST linked here.

Lots of love and don't forget to pee, wash your hands and clean your toys.

Taglist: @allexthakatt @shes-a-killer-queen-39 @ginger-abreu @dreamingofwolves @beeblisss @toread-fic

@mid-sommared

[rabid-pmkn]

Jinx x GN! reader

A/n: I might do a follow-up one-shot to this with more fluff and romance so let me know if you would enjoy that. I expected this to take longer but I got some unexpected free time.

Prompt: Anon "Hi there! I saw requests were open so can I ask for jinx x male reader (gender neutral is fine too) where R and Jinx knew eachother before everything went down R now being a well know vigilante and one night while fighting enforces jinx and reader reunite they're both like pointing their guns at eachother until R is like "holy shit powder is that you?". You can either do a one shot or headcanons whichever is easier if it its too specific lmk I change it"

Word count:789(sorry it isn't too long)

Meticulous, methodical, mean, mysterious; all words used to describe you and your work. You sat in a rickety chair in your rundown underground home, studying your plans. Enforcers would be patrolling the bridge tonight. Last week you went topside to gather information. During that trip, you had found out who would be patrolling the bridge. A certain piece of shit would be there. This certain piece of shit you've had your eye on for a while. The enforcer in question had a habit of treating the undercity's children like shit for fun.

You've attempted to put a bullet in his head before, sadly it was too crowded to get a clear shot. You may have a very high body count, but you like to keep bystander casualties to a minimum. You arent a serial killer; you're a vigilante. Typical missions are quick and quiet. Usually, it's only one or two people getting their heads blown to bits but, today would be different. Oh, so different.

Today you're planning on having some real fun. Blow as many heads to bits as possible. 25 dead enforcers are better than 1. You threw on your gear. You grabbed your double-wielding pistols and left.

You went the back way. Constantly stepping over the homeless shimmer addicts that litter the streets. Finally, you reach the bridge. You make sure to stay out of sight for now. You saw your main target having a conversation with his co-worker. You smiled as you lifted up your right hand to aim one of your guns at his head. You took a deep breath in lining it up; you let your breath out as you pulled the trigger. You watched his body go limp contently. Just as you were about to fire on the rest, all hell broke loose.

Chaos is the only word to describe the scene. Smoke from bombs clouded your vision and, the desperate screams of enforcers filled your ears. You walked into the chaos, still on a mission that you wouldn't ditch because things went awry. You gunned down anything that moved in the smoke.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

You fired gunshots without much thought.

You snapped out of your trance when you heard a machine gun going off. You ducked behind one of the enforcer's vehicles to avoid the spraying bullets. The machine gun stopped and, you heard a handgun fire off in rapid succession. You followed the enforcer's cries for mercy to find the action amidst the smoke. With both guns, you fired in the direction of the gunfire. The cries of the enforcers have seized. You continued to fire into the smoke until you heard a scream of pain. The smoke began to clear and, a figure appeared. You aimed a gun at them. Based on their silhouette, they don't seem to be an enforcer.

"Put your gun down and, your hand's up! " You shouted.

Giggling, they were giggling. What a little bitch.

You fired a warning shot.

"Oh darlin', you're messing with the wrong chick," the woman said. Her voice sent a shiver down your spine. The smoke cleared more and, you finally got to see her face as she raised her gun. She looked familiar.

That nose, tiny and cute.

Her big blue eyes. You know them. You saw the women's expression as it changed into one of confusion. Her eyes; darting across your form.

You took a step closer to get a better view of the lady. Who is she?

Finally, it hits you like a punch to the gut. Powder. Same nose, same eyes. Same unruly braided blue hair.

"Powder?" You said quietly. Pain flickered on her face before she fired a shot next to you. She stared down at her feet.

"Powder, powder's dead. It's Jinx..." she said before looking up at you again. "It's Jinx now,"

Jinx, of course, you know of Jinx you weren't living under a rock. You just hadn't seen the bomb-loving gun-slinging maniac before.

"Y/n?" she asked. You nodded.

"I've missed you," you said without thought.

"Then, then why haven't you found me?" Jinx asked.

"I thought you were dead." You replyed. " For fucks sake, you go by a different name and, I mean, look at you," you brought your guns down as you spoke. "You aren't the little kid I remember," you said.

Jinx lowered her gun as tears started to build up in her eyes. You took a cautious step forward. Jinx dropped her gun and aggressively wiped tears off of her face.

"I thought you were dead too," she said. " You were there when Benzo died and..." Jinx took a deep breath. "I've missed you too," she said.

[writer-of-various]

I'm Alive and Kicking

Lazar and Bell/Safehouse Crew

Mentions of violence, hurt/comfort, fluff (sorry in advance for any errors of any kind)

Dubravlag Camp

Yavas, Mordovia

15 DECEMBER 1987

Task Force Vanguard, General "Bell"

Lazar stared at the pile of debris, his lips quivering as the cold winter air threatened to give him frostbite. He was surprised that during his six years imprisoned in Russia, suffering from the snowy days he was forced to perform horrid labor, he had not once contacted frostbite and he saw it as a mercy. Each night he is haunted by his capture, from where Bell tried grabbing him after helping Park only to be pulled up. Her scream for him as she was taken away, mixing with the shouts in Cuban as he was knocked out by the butt of a rifle. He spent five months in a prison in Cuba before being taken to Russia when they learned he was a CIA Agent that is most likely statused as MIA and rescue teams would be rioting Cuba for him. He held back a laugh then, because for sure he was dead to his crew and to the CIA. It hurt that they won't search for him but it fuelled him to not give up because one day this camp would be liberated or burned down and he'll search for his crew and tell them that hey, he isn't dead and never has been. It was a foolish dream but as long as it kept him going, he didn't give a shit.

"Azoulay, hurry it up! The guards are coming!" A fellow inmate shouts, snapping Lazar out of his trance. He nodded to himself and picked up a large rock, grunting as his back ached from he beating he had taken for one of the illed inmates. It hurt like hell but the guy was in his 80s and most likely on his death bed and Lazar didn't want him to go down in even more pain.

"Fucking commies." He growled in his native tongue, walking over to a old and broken truck that belonged to a guard and tossing it in the back with a bunch of other old parts from over the years. He risked a look at his hands, the scars and bruises and dirt littering his calloused palms. He swallowed down the lump of disgust and shame in his throat and continued his hard labor, snow flakes landing on his eyelashes. He estimated it took around two hours to get all the debris out of the way of the courtyard, and as a reward for getting the job done they got to have lunch early but that means they had dinner later. It was a "win-win" situation Lazar didn't mind because he was starving.

"Azoulay, look!" He followed the stares in the sky and his eyes widened. A plane- no, a fighter jet. The guards noticed because they began shouting, an alarm going off and despite the blaring noise and shouts to get down, Lazar stared in awe as the jet fly lower and closer. A gasp escaped his chapped lips when he saw a American flag painted on the tail of the jet and before his eyes two lighting strikes fell onto the courtyard. He was forced on the ground by an inmate, being covered by a weak and smaller body as one of the cell blocks was broken down into rubble, the pieces of brick and concrete flying into the air.

"Up! Get up!" The guards yelled in Russian, and thinking they meant them, the inmates began standing only to be shot at. Lazar pushed the inmatenoff of him and crawled over to large piece of a concrete, ducking behind it as gunfire echoed the isolated camp.

A guard fell down in front of him, the gun sliding over to Lazar and with a grin, he grabbed it and reloaded it. He shot at the guards, being unnoticed as their focus was on the outsiders. The few remaining guards retreated back further into the camp, and Lazar stood about to follow them when he heard a familiar voice.

"Petrova, Ivanov is to your left! Shoot him!"

Bell?

Turning around, Lazar felt his world tilt when he saw the young woman, her face scrunched up as she began shouting orders. Another woman began running towards the forest, managing to shoot her rifle as she chased after Ivanov, the camp's right hand leader. Bell looked towards the camp and Lazar ran towards her, only to cease to a stop when two guys drew their guns at him. Bell's eyes widened and she ran forward, stopping a foot away from him.

"L-lazar?" She whispers in disbelief, tears in her eyes as she looked so unsure. Lazar nods, letting the tears he held back for six years fall as she jumped on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she was whispering incoherently, hands suddenly cupping his face and checking him over, her eyebrows furrowing in anger.

"I k-knew it...I knew you were still alive. They didn't listen...God Lazar you're alive!" She hugged him once more, crying into his chest. He hugged her back, picking her up and spinning them around on the cold snow, all his worries gone. He was free. Bell looked for him. She never gave up. That's his girl.

"Bell, look at you! All grown up, hey you let your hair grow!" He exclaims, kissing the top of her head. She smiled up at him through her tears, letting out a breathless chuckle.

"General, sorry to interrupt but Polina got Ivanov. We have to leave now in order to contact reinforcements." One of the guys yelled, his accent indicating he was Australian. The guy beside him whooped, holding up a pair of keys and running back from where they came from.

"I'M FLYING!" He shouts. The other woman, Polina, shook her head as she walked over. "Fucking Wade." She muttered with a small smirk. Her eyes trailed over to Lazar and she nodded a silent greeting before following Wade.

"Lucas, Arthur, help out Lazar here. His ankle is sprained, I can tell from the limp." Bell orders, adjusting her gun holster and leading the way. Lazar was amazed at how much she grown, and he had so many questions that he let his excitement bubble through. It may be a long flight but he was sure to make the most of it.

"You and Adler?" He says in disbelief, drying his hair as Bell nodded, a loving smile tracing her lips.

"Yeah, even Mason and Hudson were surprised." She chuckled, pushing a box of Chinese food across the table and to him. He grinned and sat down, digging right into delicious food he hasn't had in so long. Bell frowned as he practically gulped down the noodles and steamed teriyaki, his story still fresh in her head.

"Lazar...how- how bad was it?" She questions, looking down at her lap. Lazar swallowed down his barely chewed food, watching as his friend stared up at him upset. Wiping his mouth, he sat up straighter and racked his brain on what to say.

"It...it was painful...so painful that I don't even know how to describe it. They used different instruments of pain, killing you if you fought back too much. They were kind enough to give us warnings but some of us were born to fight back and many of my newfound friends were killed within my first week there. Don't get me started on the weather, we work through every disaster without a break. But my experience made me stronger, and my foolish dream of coming back to you guys kept me alive." He explains softly, giving the young woman a reassuring smile. She shook her head, looking so distraught.

"Perseus is gone. I ended it." She finally says, her eyes so big and full of youth that it pained Lazar when he remembered what she had told him on the flight. Before he can say anything, the safehouse door slammed open and Adler raced into the kitchen, Bell's name on the tip of his tongue but when he saw Lazar, he took a step back.

"Eleazar?" He whispers, actually taking off his shades and glancing over at Bell in confusion. Mason, Woods, and Hudson arrived shortly, their expressions similar to Adler's. Mason snapped out of his quickly though, running over to Lazar and hugging him.

"Lazar!" He exclaims, pulling away with teary eyes. Lazar patted his back, surprised when Woods also raced over and picked him up in a tight hug. Hudson walked over and patted his back, a proud smile on his face.

"Nothing can get rid of you, huh Azoulay?" He jokes and Lazar lets out a rumbling laugh, pulling the usual stoic man into a hug. "I missed you too, Jason." The rest of evening was the small crew catching up with each other, and Lazar couldn't be more happier.

Sorry its short but I promise there will be a longer Lazar fic in the future. I hope you enjoyed @mayaibnlaahad and everyone!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

📝: guys.... he's finally here 🧙🏻🔮 you'll never believe me but when typing out the "day free of girls" line i literally typed "a day full of girls" on accident and I lost it.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Holy shit, I can't believe we're really doing this."

Max caps the magic marker pen and flips the last name card around, the three friends grinning down at their work before them. Together, Y/n, El, and Max had gathered enough scraps to make a roulette wheel of sorts made up of a piece of cardboard, drawing paper, and an old Coke bottle. In other words, the decider of El's next trip to the void.

Max tosses the pen back on the bed and Y/n manages to fix the glass bottle before it rolled off the cardboard. Her back dug into the wall where she sat next to El but all she could feel was excitement. That and the terrible sinking feeling she had been ignoring all night.

"Ready?" Max asks.

"Ready."

"Remember, you don't have to do this, okay?"

El cocks her head to the side and smiles at Y/n.

"Y/n. I'm okay."

That feeling grew worse with the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. But the look in El's eyes was gentle enough to quell the fears. It was stupid to be worrying. Wasn't it?

"I know, I just mean we're not gonna make you do anything you don't want to do," she looks at Max and she nods.

"Totally," she agrees.

El can't contain the warm smile stretching across her cheeks, and any previous feelings towards the void and going in solidified. She knew before this moment she could trust her friends as she went back in. But it was reassuring to know they were still looking out for her, making sure she felt safe.

"It's okay. I want to,"

Y/n's smile returns and she nods, signaling El to spin the bottle. It twirls with a muted clatter before landing on its first name.

"Mr. Wheeler," the three of them read aloud.

Y/n makes another face at the card and Max scoffs.

"Blech, boring,"

"Yeah," El chuckles, looking to Max. "Boring,"

"Spin again," she encourages.

El reaches for the bottle, a small frown forming as she looks between them.

"Against the rules?"

"We make our own rules," Y/n says simply.

El's cheeks were beginning to hurt from all this smiling.

Nevertheless, she reaches for the bottle, winding it back before spinning it full force. Their eyes are trained patiently on the glass, watching as the glass nozzle slows over,

-"Billy,"

Y/n feels another stone sink to the pit of her stomach like a skipped rock. Unsure, she sends a look to Max who is looking less than thrilled. The redhead scoffs as Y/n rises from the bed to retrieve the radio. After nearly a year of friendship with Max, Y/n had learned more or less what to expect with her best friend's stepbrother, but she also knew not to rule out any surprises. Part of her, a small part she apparently shared with Max, was scared they were sending El into a sure moment of trauma.

She just didn't realize what kind in that moment.

"Okay, look," Max warned, as Y/n made her way back to the bed and began fiddling with the radio. "I should just warn you if he's with a girl or doing something gross just get out of there right away before you're scarred for life,"

"Max," El warned playfully, taking the headband Max had nearby.

"I'm just saying, he's really gross,"

"Max!" El laughed.

"Okay," She chuckled, readjusting herself on the bed. "Shutting up now,"

Y/n manages to find the correct station just as El hooks the headband over her eyes again.

A silence falls over the room. Any muffled voices from the TV Hopper was watching in the other room were drowned out in the static seeping into the air. Y/n and Max watched carefully as the girl's shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath.

When El arrived, she immediately felt cold.

She had developed a sense of time in this place long ago, and she knew her getting here — finding Billy — didn't take long, but it wasn't as fast as it had been when she looked for the boys.

When El arrived... everything felt wrong.

First of all, Billy wasn't anywhere in sight. Not right away.

All that was waiting for her was a car, just feet to her right. The headlights were on, bright yellow beams shining over her legs, staring at her like eyes as it sat watching her in the dark.

El tries to ignore the beating of her heart in her ears as she inches closer to investigate. She tries to ignore the growing urge to turn tail and run. To ignore her instincts completely, leave the void and tell Y/n and Max she was sorry.

But she didn't. She crept closer and closer to the only clue she was given and found her unease growing.

Festering.

The glass of the windshield was hopelessly cracked, dented in like something had hit it. Hard. And when she crept even closer, it was confirmed to her the car was empty. Even more curious, the trunk was open.

El grew closer to the trunk, but before she could investigate further the sounds of fearful whimpers finally reached her ears. It deepened her frown and pulled her eyes deeper into the void. That's when she saw it.

She could barely make him out, he was so far away but it was him.

Billy.

"I found him,"

"What's he doing?" Max asks, sounding as unsure as Y/n felt.

Neither of them liked the look forming on El's face under the headband. She looked worried, and when she finally spoke she sounded it too.

She sounded scared.

"I don't know,"

Everything had become harder to make out. Every step she took to close the distance between her and Billy made the connection worse.

Like something was blocking her.

Whatever it is, it isn't strong enough to block out Billy's coarse and hollow voice.

"Don't be afraid."

"He's... on the floor,"

His back is to El, knelt over the floor. His dark gray tank and jeans nearly working to blend him into the darkness he's hiding in. He was nowhere near even a scrap of light, undoubtedly the reason it took her this long to spot him.

His voice is as chilling as whatever atmosphere she had just stepped into. She was in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by those she trusted to pull her out but it was not enough.

Against Billy's words to this stranger, she felt afraid. Nor did she believe the next words to leave his mouth.

"It'll be over soon."

"talking to someone."

The whimpers grew louder and more frequent. Whoever this girl was, she was crying.

Nothing about this trip made her want to get closer, but El continued on. She was determined now, despite the suffocating fear. She was worried for this girl.

El could barely see her. She too was cloaked in darkness. And she was also obscured from behind Billy's figure.

"Just stay very still,"

El's lungs felt like they were flooding. Her legs turned to led, slowly bringing her to a stop just a few steps behind Billy. Tears had crept into her eyes by the time he rose to his feet, his broad shoulders meeting her eye level.

Her instincts were screaming inside her like an alarm; bright, violent flashes of fear growing more rapid by the second until—

You.

El flinched as he whipped around to face her, sunken, darkened eyes widening as they piercing her own. He had not uttered a word to her but she still heard it. A force so strong and revolted — so concentrated — she could feel the thought in her bones.

You.

He could see her.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

She's too shocked to do anything. Too afraid. But she wasn't prepared to let that stop her. Heather was going to do something, she had to. She would.

But that all died when Billy suddenly stood up, looking almost disinterested in her as an eery, unnatural sound reverberates throughout the darkness before her. Slowly, her head turns to face the dark abyss when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

His face is as hard as stone though his eyes hold a flicker of struggle and pain when it all unfolds. Heather may be the only one in binding, but she is not the only one who is trapped. There is nothing at all Billy can do but watch as the large and bloodied mass of flesh stomps forward from the shadows, ready to feast.

Neither is there anything to do to stop the sudden plunge of a million icy daggers into his system as his head is jerked around. His senses had suddenly been dialed up to twenty in the blink of an eye, the skin over the back of his neck tightening when it senses her.

Heather's bloodcurdling screams swallow the silence as his stomach plummets two more stories.

It was the girl.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The headband is torn suddenly from El's tremoring body, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gulps down shaky breaths of air.

"What is it?"

"El, what's wrong?"

El feels a warm hand gently graze her own, and while it does wonders in putting the icy chill to bed it's not enough to banish the fear flooding her lungs.

It takes great effort for her to meet her friend's watery eyes, but when she does, it's impossible to ignore the grave look El casts over Y/n.

"El?"

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"You sure you don't mind me leaving?" I ask as I stand to collect my papers.

Y/n smiles at me from where I left her on my couch, surrounded by notebooks and dice.

"Of course not," She says, sitting up to help gather our things. "You know if El called me up, you wouldn't let me miss out either. Besides, I've been meaning to see Max."

How was she so understanding?

"Thanks," I grin. "We're still on for tonight though, right?"

She grabbed my face again and pulled me in for a kiss. I nearly forgot to breathe until she broke away, smiling warmly at me.

"Wouldn't miss it,"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

I stare down at the gameboard, my eyes trailing over my notes. They were littered with Y/n's annotations and doodles in red ink, giving me the encouragement I need.

She should be here.

She worked just as hard as I did to make this happen, she should be here to see it.

"If Mike says he wants to hang out, just the guys, I say run," she told me. "Someone should get to see this campaign. I'm okay with missing out if that's what it takes."

I gave her a look, testing her own words. But she seemed sure. I could tell with just one look, she wasn't giving up.

"It sounds like Mike needs you, anyway," Y/n broke out in a grin and handed me my papers. "And who better to solve any problem than Will the Wise?"

I thumb her notes and I can feel the indents of the pen made on the paper by her handwriting. Down in the corner of the page, I notice something I hadn't before. It was a hasty doodle of Y/C/N looking up at me next to the words, 'Safe Travels to Kuzaton, Sir Will!' And then a smaller, cruder doodle of Y/C/N holding a fireball in her hand as she winked. 'PS. Inform me if your companions are in need of a little persuasion'

I laughed, remembering her promise in Castle Byers. Carefully, I tear the page out and fold it into my pocket for safekeeping before looking up at my friends.

They were still passed out; Lucas was on the floor, Mike on the couch, with a can of Coke still in his hand.

I sigh, trying my best to hold onto the encouragement Y/n had given me. But I couldn't go off of it forever. Of course she was going to support me, she always has.

Just like they used to.

And now everything was a mess. I try to let go of the anger but it's sticking to me like sap; I can't just brush it off. They had been ignoring me all summer. And before that, I wasn't myself because of what happened the year before. It's the first time I realize the last time we were all like this was before the Upside Down. Now that everything had settled down, and El and Max have been around, Dustin's isn't even here and everyone else is too caught up in each other.

Y/n was the only one to notice me. And now, even she's not here.

I actually begin to consider her offer but I shake the thought away. I can't run to her, even if she could kick their asses. This was between them and me.

They just forgot what they're missing.

I rise from my seat and feeling rather brave, I turn the volume up on the boom box before pressing play.

The tavern music blasts throughout the basement and Mike and Lucas jump awake.

"What are you doing?" Lucas says, peering up at me as he squints against the lights.

"Yeah, Will, can you turn down the music?" Mike cries.

"Please address me by my full name," I declare.

I refuse to go meet their eye, showing them I wasn't going to let them walk all over me anymore.

"What?"

I slam the staff into the ground, glaring at Mike. "My full name!"

"Oh, god, okay," Mike sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Will the Wise, can you please turn down the music?"

"That is not music. That is the sound of destiny! I have seen into the future and I have seen that today is a new day. A day... free of girls!"

"What is happening right now?" Lucas asks, his eyes still stuck shut.

"Will, come on," Mike groans.

Ignoring him, I dip down to the board, admiring the work that had taken so long.

"A tribe of villagers are under threat from an evil force from the swamps of Kuzaton,"

"Will, it's so early,"

I glare at him, slowly rising.

"Is it?" I ask. "Is it early, Michael? Tell that to the villagers crying for your help. Children so frightened they cannot sleep. Are you truly going to let them perish? Or are you going to come to their rescue and become the heroes you were always meant to be?"

Lucas, who had been blinking through sleep my entire speech, peers up at me as he raises his hand.

"Can I at least take a shower first?"

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The clouds above our heads were growling with thunder, threatening a heavy storm as the three of us made our way to Max's house to investigate Billy.

"It's gonna start pouring soon," Max says, voicing my thoughts. "We should be at the mall, or watching a movie or something,"

Poor El. It had taken so long to calm her down last night. And it took promising her we'd go check out it later today. So here were are. Traveling up Cherry through the hot, muggy air, and a bad feeling still in my gut.

"You guys don't believe me?" El asks, growing sad.

I shared a worried look with Max before both of us nod our heads quickly.

"Of course we do!"

"And we're sure you saw some super weird stuff, totally," Max continues. "We're just a little confused. I mean, did you really contact Y/n through there once?"

El didn't seem as receptive as she had been, and I jumped in, nodding. "Yeah, last year when everything was going on with Will and Dart. Granted, I thought had I had been dreaming at first but I put the pieces together. Plus, El, didn't you say Mike has sensed you before?

El, who had been thoughtfully watching her feet as she walked, gears turning in her brain, suddenly looked up at me with a strange look in her eye.

"How did you?"

"How did I what?"

"Put your pieces together?"

I thought the question was strange, as I still don't understand what this has to do with Billy but I answered anyway.

"I don't know, I," I shook my head, feeling a thoughtful frown forming on my face. "Well, I realized I wasn't even fully asleep when it happened, I was wading in and out. I remember trying to stay awake cause I thought you were in my room, but you weren't. It felt really weird, actually, like I was dreaming with my eyes open. But I remembered what you said and I decided to take a chance." I shrug, hands in my pockets. "And I was right. It was you,"

But it still doesn't make sense.

"That was supposed to happen though, right? You said you had a way, I figured you knew I'd see you."

El slowly looked back up at me, looking almost concerned.

"I didn't," she admits.

She didn't know? But that day I found her... She said she could reach me. And if it's true, how come I'm the only one who can see her?

"I'm still worried," El admitted.

I brought my head to look at her, and I realized I was beginning to fall behind. I scurried a few steps across the pavement and back to their pace when Max tried again.

"Well, we'll check it out. But I'm sure it's going to be fine. A misunderstanding, I mean,"

Judging by the look on El's face, she wasn't letting up. Not that I can blame her. I'm not exactly feeling too great about this either.

"How do you know that?" El asks. She shakes her head like she's trying to forget what she heard. "What about the screams?"

"I know, but," Max sighs up at the sky, growing uncomfortable as she turns back to El. "here's the thing. When Billy is alone with a girl, they make like, really crazy noises,"

I grimace.

"They scream?"

Now I'm trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, but, like," Max darts her eyes past El, flashing me a panicked look. I shrug, looking back down at the ground as I try not to chuckle. "happy screams,"

El only seems more confused.

"Happy screams? What is happy screams?"

Max looked at me again, silently pleading. I shrug, not about to give El the talk. And judging by Max's expression, she wasn't about to either.

She just sighs.

"I'm just gonna lend you my mom's Cosmo,"

The chuckle finally breaks loose just as we reach the front of Max's house. "Yeah," I snort. "Hop won't freak out at all,"

Max rolls her eyes at me and they rest on the empty lot.

"His car's not here," Max says, all thoughts on the previous conversation forgotten. "You really want to do this?"

Finally looking back at El, I watch her expression carefully and the knot in my stomach burrows itself deeper. I haven't seen her this worried in a long time.

Since last year. And the year before.

I'm beginning to understand the bad feeling in my stomach now. The same one I had for the past two years.

I just hope it's wrong.

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Learn About Unconscious Bias:

Why Gaza Needs Our Help

How To Be An Ally

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Waste Deep Chapter 6: Fruit Snacks

Yiddek Valez was a doctor, quite a good one if his results had anything to say about it, but today he felt more like a rather third-rate lawyer. He'd poured over so many referential legal texts that he might as well buy himself one of those fancy faux leather briefcases. His brothers insurance was being more difficult than attempting to peel the sticker off a piece of fruit with hands the size of coffee tables. At some point you just started eating the stickers as well.

Energy drink cans and squishy fruit snack packages littered the entirety of his desk. As each package of the sweet snacks was but a drop in the nearly bottomless bucket that was his stomach, he was currently emptying three into his maw at once. As he let the now empty plastic fall onto his desk, he again glanced at his brothers most recent reports.

They made him question whether he even needed to be doing all this collegiate era studying in the first place. In only a few days Harvel had made the type of progress that would make any surgeon quit his practice and seek new employment in the field of religion. Frankly speaking this was a monetarily lateral move though you would most likely loose many friends and acquaintances.

The lacerations on his back were healing at an abnormal rate, and his cracked collar bone and broken ribs were almost as good as new. In a few days, Harvel had healed nearly a months-worth of injuries primarily through bed rest. Something his brother was not known for in the first place.

When their parents had come by Harvel had still been asleep. Yiddek had lied and told them that waking him up at this time was not advisable, but at this rate Harvel might well be doing backflips by next Monday. It was honestly baffling. At this point he was arguing more that he should be allowed to analyze Harvel instead of treat him.

It wasn't just the collar bone or the ribs that bothered him. When they'd brought him up Harvels spine had been separated by the centipedes mandibles. He shouldn't have even been able to stand up, let alone walk an hour back to the switch station. As much faith as he had in his brothers often bull-headed sheer will, there were some things that had limits.

This wasn't one of those shows his sister loved with all the flashy fights and odd colored hair. You couldn't overcome a spinal injury just because you wanted to really, really badly. That sort of shit is what got people killed. Adrenaline doesn't do much when there isn't any blood left to circulate it throughout the brain.

Yet, that's exactly what happened. Harvel had managed to make it back on his own two feet even if, at best, he should have only been able to crawl a couple of meters and then bleed out. As thankful as he was for Harvels rescue, it just shouldn't have happened.

He'd noticed some odd readings on Harvels blood work, but the stations equipment hadn't come off as the most reliable. It had failed to identify his blood type correctly three times before Yiddek had managed to get an accurate reading. The only way he'd get any conclusive data would be getting him back here to run real tests, no matter how much Harvel hated it.

Yiddek thought back to the first time he'd seen his sister after the whole thing. She'd been scared, but not in any way he'd seen her previously. She'd been scared at her sentencing. She'd been scared when people threw rocks at them as kids. This had been a different kind of fear, like she didn't know what to be afraid of.

She wouldn't tell him outright. Neither of them ever did. It was the curse of being the youngest. Nobody ever wanted to tell you anything, even when you got older.

He almost had to thank them. All it had really done in the long run was make him overly perceptive. He always had to piece everything together, and with practice you got good at such things. It's not like they were just going to start handing him wins now.

Yiddek sat back and rubbed the scales under his eyes. He was sure that something was wrong. He hadn't healed like this after the solvent incident. Had Harvel gone missing in the last few weeks that he could remember? Parish Inc. had been in the news lately for allegedly kidnapping and experimenting on the city's lower class. Though, if they'd discovered anything of value, he doubted they would have let him go.

Anything that could naturally heal bones in a matter of a few days and keep a man upright after a wound like Harvels would be worth trillions of credits. A company with a discovery like that would dominate the medical industry for decades to come. At the very least he would have heard rumors.

Nobody had said anything in any morning meetings, that's the usual place the company caught them up on what their spies had uncovered. Corporate espionage was practically a sport in this city, and Boris Metro Medical had a winning team. Parish was their only main competitor and with the recent scandal they barely registered as a threat, but he'd heard they had picked up some ringers in the latest draft.

At the beginning of every fiscal year you could walk down Holly street, nicknamed Snoops Mile, and see that there was practically a corporate hiring fair. He'd been posted at the Metro Medical tent his first year. He'd been surprised to find out that the men and women he'd interviewed had been of a particularly higher class than he'd expected.

Their suits were as nice as any he'd seen in the dome, with little gold plates and filigree lining the lapels and collars. After a few of the cursory questions he'd understood exactly why. It seemed corporate espionage was a bit of a family business. If you had the skills for it you could make damn near what the CEOs you were ratting out did, and if you could pass those skills on to an heir the generational wealth piled up. The real risk came from getting caught, coming back without results, or not verifying the legitimacy of your info.

One of their top earners, Mr. Hopper, always delivered. You wouldn't have guessed as much in a million years from looking at him. Small, mousey, with thin rimmed circular glasses, he looked like anyone you'd see working at a bank. And that's why he did so well. Nobody paid any attention when you looked like all the other boot lickers. He never came back empty handed, his info was always good, and his family lived like royalty.

Yiddek hadn't been in direct contact with Hopper since he'd hired him but if anyone would know anything it would be him. He didn't exactly fancy the idea of talking to him. Yiddek could never seem to get comfortable in his presence. He wasn't threatening by any means, but with all the information floating in and out of Hoppers head he didn't need to be. He was a threat. A very real one.

Most spies signed contracts that tied them to a specific company for a short amount of time. Hopper had never, and would never, sign a goddamn thing. He worked as an independent, and this worked because he was so damn good. This also meant he was never allowed within a mile of the building. If he was good enough to get one over on their competitors, he was certainly good enough to get one over on them.

He'd have to make contact with him somehow, but first he had to get Harvel to the dome. That in and of itself would be a gamble. He'd need to call in someone he could trust not to hand him over to another corp. Yiddek pulled up his contacts, his claw hovering over the name "Morrison". He knew exactly who he needed, but his bank account was going to be much lighter after hanging up the phone.

If you've read this far, first off thank you for doing so. Second, please check out the rest of the book.

[bronze-and-navy-is-creating-1]

Sorry to make this longer but I want to add my own story on this.

Another big problem is people picking on already emotionally damaged men as weak and using and abusing them. Let me explain by talking about an old friend of mine who (as I'll explain) I litterally can't talk to anymore for fear he could be seriously hurt.

So he has extreme emotional attachment issues and a TERRIBLE home life that caused said issues. He's also 6ft and buff but would rather die than hurt a single fly because he's terrified of people because any situation would cause him to be the bad guy even if he was the victim. Which also becomes important Then in high school. Someone I regret to say was at once point a friend (thank God she isn't now, she's a piece of shit I genuinely hate and here's why), started dating him. The reason why is because she knew emotionally long as she said she loved him, she could get away with anything.

Fast forward three years and he was my roommate, paid all the bills, worked his ass off, she ate all his food, did absolutely nothing, lived there rent free while he also was a full time student. She would make him spend hundreds in food for her. She would hit him. Steal his phone, pretend to be him to text his family and friends. Made him lose all his friends this way. He developed a code to text me but still Jesus Christ. She would hit him. When she was drunk she would force herself on him. And then she got into a fight with me and ever sense anytime he tried to talk to me he'd be beaten or worse. She'd threaten to kill herself. To kill him. She would lock herself in the apt drunk and naked. She forced him to steal things for her, he got house arrest for it. She got nothing. Way after I moved she destroyed the next apt with roommates, smashing all their possessions. If he didn't spend all of his attention on her and then some it'd be more fighting. She'd even threaten to lie to the cops and because he was a guy, he knew they'd never believe him, only her. She essentially ruined his life, the fucking bitch. And because she isolated him and he had attachment issues, he didn't leave. I was too afraid to get close and help because she'd hurt him bad. I couldn't call the cops because again she'd hurt him and lie. I genuinely hopes she burns in hell one day and that some how he gets out of this situation. I haven't seen him in a year because again, she cut all contact. But I hope he's gotten out of it, he is genuinely an amazing guy whose been through way too much bullshit.

So yeah. Men can be horribly abused too. And if I ever get ahold of that little fucking...... God she makes me furious to thinks about.

Anyways this is an important post.