#so like. what exactly is 'hating you for being a man' to you then my guy?

[warping-realities]

What The Team Needs

This short story is an adaptation of the first video I made when I first started playing around with AI, so the images aren’t exactly natural like in the more recent stories, but it’s still something I promised you all. I still have a video to transcribe, but that's gonna be trickier since it wasn’t thought out the same way as the other two with back-and-forth dialogue. Plus, I don't have the final images saved anymore (the ones that were combined to make the video), which doesn’t mean I won’t do that transcription at some point, just that it probably won’t be anytime soon. Other than that, I’m still on a hiatus from new stories, although I’ve already received two pretty interesting suggestions. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this revamped version of

What The Team Needs

"Babe, let’s chill, we’re in the middle of the hallway, what if someone spots us?" Nathaniel asked, glancing around with a mix of anxiety and nerves.

"Let 'em see, it ain't a crime," Broderick shot back, pulling Nathaniel closer, his gaze determined.

"Don’t be ridiculous, you know how they roll. Stop, someone’s coming!" Nathaniel said, his heart racing as someone approached.

"Eww, it’s Josh," Nathaniel muttered, his tone dripping with disdain looking to the massive muscular young man wearing a red tank top and gym shorts getting closer.

"Babe, he's cool and he's feeling alone after what happened with his friends," Broderick defended, watching Josh come closer.

"Okay, but why does he have to think you're his new bestie?" Nathaniel questioned, a bit annoyed.

"Because our parents are pals and we’ve known each other since we were kids, now smile and be nice to him," Broderick insisted, his smile widening.

"Hey broski, I need to talk to you," Josh said, with a mischievous grin as he approached.

"Hi Josh, this is Nathaniel, my boyfriend," Broderick introduced, trying to keep the vibe light.

"What's up? It’s gotta be private, Brody," Josh replied, shooting a meaningful glance at Nathaniel.

"O.K. I’ll be right back babe..." Broderick said, reluctantly letting go of Nathaniel’s hand.

As Broderick walked off with Josh, Nathaniel crossed his arms, watching from a distance. He didn’t like the idea of Broderick being pulled into another dude’s orbit, especially someone like Josh.

"So, did you think about what I told you?" Josh asked, his expression serious.

"Man, I really don’t see myself on the football team. there’s no way someone like me can help," Broderick replied, hesitant.

"You'd be surprised," Josh insisted, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"If you say so..." Broderick murmured, starting to feel a bit more convinced.

"Perfect, you’re a lifesaver bro, first training session this afternoon and I’m sure you’ll be exactly what the team needs," Josh said, clapping Broderick on the back with enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel was getting more restless. When Broderick finally returned, he couldn’t help but ask: "What did that troglodyte want?"

"Just asked me a favor, nothing to stress about," Broderick replied, trying to reassure him.

"I hate it when he calls you Brody, Broderick. It makes you sound like one of them," Nathaniel complained, his tone heavy with disdain.

"One of them?" Broderick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don’t play dumb. One of them, a jock!"

"Are you gonna tell me you never dreamed of being with a jock?" Broderick teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Ew, Broderick, don’t even joke about it!" Nathaniel replied, rolling his eyes but unable to hide a faint smile.

"Okay, okay, let’s bounce?" Broderick suggested, pulling Nathaniel closer as they walked together.

....

Broderick hurried down the hall, his heart racing with the anxiety that was starting to settle in his stomach. He tried to ignore the slight nausea he felt, but the pressure in his abdomen that made him ditch history class seemed to be getting worse with every step.

"Dude, I’m not feeling well, was it something I ate? And now it’s itching. Lucky for me the teacher let me hit the bathroom," he thought, almost sprinting toward the restroom. The hallway was packed with students chatting and laughing, but he could only focus on the urgency of finding relief.

As he entered the bathroom, Broderick rushed into one of the stalls, the itch and abdominal cramps reaching an unbearable level, turning what should've been a moment of relief into a new source of worry. "This damn itch won't go away, what the hell is going on? Dammit, now on my legs... it's burning, it's burning!!!!!" his thoughts echoed in his mind as he writhed in pain trying to find the source of the discomfort, ripping his clothes off and standing there in just his underwear. Then, just as abruptly as it started, it ended.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Somehow he had ended up in front of the bathroom mirror. What happened? What a weird thing, man if someone caught me in just my underwear in the bathroom I’m screwed..." He looked closer into the mirror, noticing something unusual. "Weird, my abs look more toned, it must be a light trick..."

The momentary distraction made him forget the strangeness of it all. "I really need to put on my clothes and go back to class!” he thought, deciding it was time to head back to class and deal with whatever happened later. But as soon as he turned to grab his clothes, something even stranger happened. A peculiar energy enveloped his body, almost like an invisible magnet. "Wow..." he murmured, feeling the force pull him. He hesitated, surprised and intrigued by the sensation. It was as if an unknown force was drawing him back to where he had just come from, only that’s not where he ended up. Broderick felt the pulsating energy around him as he tried to understand what was going on. "What was that? Where am I?" he murmured, realizing he was in a locker room. The environment was familiar, yet everything felt different. He looked around, trying to locate the exit, but something made him stop. "Wtf... what the hell is that in the mirror?" He quickly turned to the mirror and stood agape at his own reflection. An extremely muscular version of himself, with a shaved head and a physique he had never known he had.

"It's you Brody, bro! I told you you'd be perfect for the team! And now you're a perfect tight end!” Josh entered the locker room, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Josh's confidence was palpable, but Broderick was in shock.

“I... no... I, what???” he stammered, trying to process what was happening. His mind was in a whirlwind, confused between reality and what seemed like a dream.

"Just relax and enjoy, see you on the field in 5 minutes, bro. Go crushers!" Josh said, leaving the locker room with an air of confidence, leaving Broderick alone to deal with what had just occurred.

“What...? What the hell was... Hmm... feels so good...” Broderick looked at himself in the mirror again, admiration growing inside him. He couldn’t believe the image he saw — his muscles were huge, defined, and toned.

"Dammit, I’m hot! Look at those muscles!" he exclaimed to himself, excitement building as the reality of the moment began to set in.

"All those hours on the football field and in the weight room were worth it," he thought, remembering every grueling practice, every drop of sweat shed alongside Josh, his best friend and teammate. His dedication to football had always been his passion, and now, somehow, he was reaping the rewards of that hard work.

"I am a beast!" Broderick smiled arrogantly, admiring his body and feeling more alive than ever before he turned and got ready for practice knowing he loved this more than anything else.

.....

Nathaniel walked down the college hall, trying to focus on the conversation with Gregory, a classmate still smaller and skinnier than he was. He was having a strange day, with a persistent feeling that something was very wrong.

"I already said I don't know Gregory... It's just a weird feeling that I'm forgetting something important... I... Who is that??? Brode... Brody?” He exclaimed, his eyes widening as they landed on a muscular young man walking toward them. The guy had a shaved head, a visible tattoo on his arm, and was wearing a black tank top that showcased his impressive physique. The sight was so striking it made him stop for a moment.

"What's up, little bro! I need to talk to you in private. No hard feelings shorty, but it's between me and my bro!" The muscular young man said with a confident smile.

"So, did you think about what I told you?" Broderick continued, ignoring Gregory’s presence.

"Man, I really don't see myself on the football team. There's no way someone like me can help," Nathaniel's response sounded distant to as if he were listening to a conversation from another world.

"You'd be surprised," Brody said, his voice full of optimism.

"If you say so..." Nathaniel felt a knot in his stomach, a strange sense that he was about to lose something important. What was happening?

"Perfect, you’re a lifesaver brother, first training session this afternoon and I’m sure you’ll be exactly what the team needs," Broderick concluded, before walking away with a confidence that felt alien to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel stood there, watching Broderick blend into the crowd. He felt an inexplicable pain in his chest, as if a part of him was fading away. "What’s happening to me?" he murmured, his mind confused and lost.

Gregory, noticing Nathaniel’s distress, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

"I don’t know, man. But I feel like that’s exactly what happened."

......

Brody and Josh were standing in a hallway, both wearing the usual tanks and gym shorts that showcased their muscular bodies. The atmosphere around them was charged with anticipation, and Josh looked at Brody with a teasing smile.

"May I know why we are standing in this hallway bro?" He asked, crossing his arms and flexing his toned muscles.

"You'll know soon, QB! I would say you'll find out right now," Brody replied, keeping the mystery alive as he scanned the hallway, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Josh rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a grin. Brody's confidence was infectious.

At that moment, a muscular young man with a shaved head and wearing a black tank top just like Brody approached. He had the same rebellious vibe, accentuated by the tattoo on his arm, although he was slightly smaller and skinnier than Brody; the resemblance was such that they could easily be mistaken for brothers.

"Josh, that's my bro Nate. I think he's going to be an excellent fullback," Brody said, pointing to the young man approaching with a confident grin on his arrogant face.

"And best of all, he knows exactly where to get someone else for the team!" Josh concluded, a gleam in his eyes.

“I believe that with some help Greg will be perfect for the team QB.”

Nate said while revealing his perfectly white and aligned teeth, which broke into a predatory smile reflected on his teammates' faces.

[juletheghoul]

Hey there! Not sure if you're still taking submissions to expand your creativity, but I'd love to see what you come up with for everyone's favorite murder daddy, Dave. You have some great Dave stories, just curious if you still vibe with him. I love the look on his face when he gets caught in a lie, how he just lets the act drop.

Ouuu I DEFINITELY still vibe with Dave, I’ve been kicking around this idea of Dave and the surrogate him and Carol hire. Thank you for this ask!

Please enjoy the (possibly first part if I am inspired enough to continue🫣)

Dave (Murder Daddy) York x F!Reader 

Pairing: David York x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** NSFW 18+ INFIDELITY! (reader is a surrogate, David is married) language, Smut, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk, Dave has a pregnancy kink 👀- let me know if I missed any!

(please note this is not beta'd and barely proofread)

Masterlist

-

He’s not exactly sure how to feel about the situation. Carol, his wife, is set on it though, and everything just feels easier to accept than to fight. There’s no real reason to deny her request, not unless you count the glaring fact that Dave York didn’t technically love his wife. 

He respected her, he appreciated what she brought to his life, he valued her as the perfect cover, but he never loved her. Not really. He’d made the commitment though, he’d said the words, he’d done all of the things that were expected of him as a man and husband and he’d committed. He’d even stayed faithful, he was in it for the long haul despite his lukewarm sentiments for her in the emotional department. 

When she broached the subject of children, part of him–the part that hated being tied to someone he felt nothing romantic for–rebelled. It set off warning bells and alarms about the finality of the whole thing. If they went through with this it would signify the complete intertwining of their lives. Even if in the future, for whatever reason they separated, a child would be the bonding element. The zip tie around his ankles. 

These fears, and a million more flooded his brain within seconds of her bringing up the subject, spiking his blood pressure and widening his eyes before he reigned it all in. He’d gotten his shit together though, and shifted the deer in headlights expression to a benign smile. He’d agreed with her, ignoring the cold sweat trickling down his spine. She’d gone to bed happy that night, excited to embark on the journey while he stayed up, terrified and apprehensive in the dark cavern of their room. 

He’d expected their sex-life to have a dramatic increase, he’d expected her to keep track of her cycle, to schedule their trysts according to her fertile periods and ovulation windows but she’d shocked him by suggesting a surrogate a few days after the initial talk. He’d always known her career was a priority for her, it was one of the main reasons he’d committed to her in the first place. The one characteristic they shared for real, their devotion and commitment to their respective jobs but he’d been a little taken aback at her not wanting to carry the child herself. 

“It’ll be so much easier for me, I won’t have to give birth, I won’t have to quit my job and with childcare I’ll barely be away from the office at all.” She’d said it with a toothy smile, so proud of herself for having thought of it, it had rubbed him the wrong way. Not for any of the archaic, sexist reasons you’d imagine, but he expected them both to take time off once the baby was born. He was all for her hiring someone to help should she want it but with the way she spoke, it sort of seemed like she expected their lives to continue without interruption after the baby was born. 

Despite his reluctance, despite his concerns and his general disagreement with her in how their lives would change with children, he said nothing. 

“Whatever you think is best, honey.” He’d smiled his agreeable smile and she’d accepted it happily. 

-

You almost didn’t answer the phone call, the name of the agency flashing meant another potential pregnancy and while the money was great, the emotional toll was a little more than you’d expected. You answered anyway, cursing yourself but smiling through the conversation all the same. 

With nails chewed down to the bone, and the raw edge of your t-shirt pulled until light blue strings hung like tinsel at your hip, you agreed to meet with the new couple and see how it went. 

-

The Yorks meet up with you at the coffee-shop down the street from your house. 

Carol is a lovely woman, a little manic maybe but there hasn’t been one potential mother you’ve met up with that hasn’t been. There is grace in you by the mile for her. 

Her husband, David, is another story, and it isn’t a new one–different flavour maybe. The men usually puttered around, awkward and detached while their wives took the lead. It wasn’t always a malicious, uninterested thing, you just found that sometimes it took them a little longer to connect to the idea. Once that baby was born though, they were usually just as emotional, just as invested in the whole thing. 

David isn’t so much detached, as clinical. His questions are concise, practical and intelligent. He supports his wife, even if he seems a little cold. His looks are…something to be impartial to on your part. Tall, broad, clean-cut and handsome–completely your type. Completely gorgeous in that, ‘you could be sort of dangerous’, ‘tell me what to do’ sort of way. 

You do your best to ignore the initial attraction, ignore the heavy way his eyes seem to bore into you and focus on the objective. This couple wants a baby, and you’re open for business. 

The agency called a few days after the initial meeting, congratulating you on being chosen, and a whole host of appointments lined up for check-ups, blood work and for insemination. There’s a request from the wife, Carol, though, for a private phone call before everything is to begin and you accept. 

When she calls you a few days after that, you’re taken aback by what she wants to discuss. 

“Okay, so I know this is a lot to spring on you but I was wondering if you’d be open to donating your own eggs, I know it’s usually just the surrogacy–my fertilized egg implanted and done, but I wanted to know if you’d be up for it. I would pay of course, the agency has given us the fee for the surrogacy and then I would add the fee for egg donation. You don’t have to agree right this second, and if you find you aren’t comfortable with that then I understand. Let me know once you’ve thought it through.” You can hear the smile in her voice, when she hangs up, you’re shocked. The idea of the extra money is appealing, that can't be denied but something about it gives you pause. 

You sit with it for a few days, weighing the pros and cons. The money is the biggest pro. It would be enough to finally buy the little house you’ve been dreaming of, enough for a down payment and to have a few months worth of mortgage payments. On the other hand though, there would be a child out there that is partly yours, a little girl or boy with your hands or eyes or your quirks living with another family. It’s all a little dramatic, but you always thought your children would be yours, with the love of your life. 

Your future ends up winning, and after a brief call to confirm that yes, you would be willing to donate your egg for the surrogacy, the process begins. 

-

The regiment of vitamins is insane, the shots and the fertility clinic visits are just as overwhelming as they’ve always been, despite there being no monetary aspect to worry about. You go through with it though, sometimes Carol is there with you, but mostly you go it alone. When the time comes to harvest the eggs, they end up with five. David makes his own contribution and all are fertilized. 

Carol smiles as the doctor explains the process, that there are two boys and three girls and something inside you wilts a little. She is happy, and the whole thing snowballs, what keeps you going is the thought that by this time next year you’ll be happy and living in your own home. 

They implant the first embryo, the sex of which is left to the doctor's discretion. Carol doesn’t want to know until it’s born and part of you thinks that might be for the best. It would help keep the emotional aspect of the whole thing separate. Might help to keep you objective through this whole ordeal, remember that it’s just like the other times.

This is Carol and David’s baby, not yours. 

-

The morning sickness hits a couple of weeks after the procedure and you know it took. You can feel it in your bones. You wait though, do things the right way and test at home, call for a follow up at the clinic to test thoroughly there and when the time comes they tell you what you already know. 

Carol and David send a massive gift basket to your apartment, so big you can barely lug it over to the sofa. It’s full of prenatal vitamins, treats to satisfy every craving. There’s a giftcard to a maternity store, one for a fancy local cafe, and then another one for the expensive grocery store. There’s a pregnancy pillow and soft pajamas, it’s very thoughtful and you genuinely appreciate the thought. 

Communication between you and the couple–well, Carol–is pretty consistent, David joins in on the random facetime call but you’ve accepted that he’s one of those men that only connects with the child once it's born. You push away that constant little thorn in your brain, the one that reminds you that he’s the father, and that the egg is yours.

-

Their house is a lot nicer than you’d imagined, it had to be for the amount they’re paying. 

Carol holds your arm as you walk through, even though there’s really no need. Although at twenty weeks and showing quite a bit, the baby isn’t a hindrance yet. Not in terms of getting around anyway. Hormonally however, that’s an altogether different story.

She prattles on while you eat, chattering happily about studies she’s read and the food and its beneficial properties. She speaks about nutrition and the size of the baby while you smile around your bites. 

David stares.

He barely speaks at all, a complete contrast to his wife and instead studies you as you sit there, in his house. It's a bit unnerving, intimidating and the heaviness of his gaze makes your hands tremble. There's something in his eyes that sets off those hormones you’d been battling, the ones that begged for a partner, for a man to rip your clothes off and give you the business.

Your mind gives your libido a serious talking to, all but dragging your imagination by the ear while smiling at them both. 

When the meal is over, David blessedly excuses himself, clearing the table while Carol ushers you to the sitting room sparing you from your unsavoury thoughts about a married man, about the father of the child you were carrying for them. About her husband.

“Okay tell me what you’re feeling, has the sickness gone away now?” It’s the first question she’s asked all night.

“Yes, thankfully the nausea has relaxed, I’m not throwing up as much. I’m feeling pretty good actually, despite being alone.” You smile, huffing a frustrated laugh. She tilts her head in confusion.

“Despite? Is there something you need help with? I could hire a nurse to come check in on you—“

“No no, it’s nothing like that. It’s more to do with the hormones.” You wave it away, dismissing her worries.

“Is it more supplemental? Should I get more prenatal vitamins for you?” You sigh, maybe you aren’t being clear enough.

“No, nothing like that, I have everything I need, believe me. It’s just, being single, and hormonal sucks. This is probably too much information but I’m just incredibly horny.” You laugh, half embarrassed and half amused by the expression on her face, it’s replaced with an empathetic smile.

“Oh! Oh gosh I’m sorry, yeah I can imagine that must be frustrating.” 

“It is, incredibly so. I am five months pregnant and all I want is to be fucked into my mattress you know? I’m sorry that sounds horrible—“ you cover your mouth but she waves away your concerns.

“Not at all, in the books I’ve read it’s completely normal. I’m sorry you’re going through it alone.” She pats your hand, kind above everything else.

David walks in then, broad shoulders filling out his white shirt so nicely.  There’s a tightness in his frame that gives you pause, an intensity that wasn’t there at dinner and it only highlights the loneliness, highlights the absence of a man like him in your life. There is no David waiting for you at home. 

“Would you ladies care for a coffee? Or maybe a tea for you? I’m not sure if coffee is okay–”

“I would love a coffee.” You smile, in your previous pregnancy coffee had been a no-go but luckily, this time it was something you still enjoyed. 

“How do you want it?” The question is simple, and appropriate in context, but your body can’t tell the difference, and the desire to say ‘hard’ is on the tip of your tongue. You blame the baby, and the tornado of hormones flooding your system, as well as your panties. 

“Um. Just–uh–” You flounder for a moment, mouth watering at the thought of him asking you the same question in bed, “Um.” 

“Just bring the tray with the cream and sugar, honey.” Carol smiles, oblivious to the torment. 

“Can I use the restroom?” You rise quickly, body warming, nipples hardening at the barrage of images flicking through your mind. 

“Sure, it’s just through here.” He points you in the right direction and once you close that door behind you, you let out the sigh trapped in your throat. You wipe away the arousal, annoyed with the sticky damp seat of your underwear, and splash some cold water on your face before rejoining them. The rest of the evening goes by smoothly, and once you’re home again you vow to put it out of your mind. 

-

Another basket arrives at your door a week later.

With a smile, you open the card, curious as to what Carol has sent this time since it’s wrapped up in brown paper. 

Just between you and I, 

Wish I could help. 

Enjoy, xoxo

David

His writing is neat, block letters so different from Carol's loopy script and for a moment you’re lost as to what he means. The paper rips under your fingers and what you find shocks you into frozen silence. It’s a collection of sex toys, different sizes, things that vibrate and thrust and alongside them are bottles and vials of arousal serums and lubricants. A whole menu selection of self-exploration. Your cunt clenched at the thought of using them, at the thought of him thinking about you using them. 

Your conscience chimes in, knocking down the door your libido had barricaded yourself behind and picked up your phone. WIth a shaky hand, you look through your emails and finally find his number.

“David York speaking.” He answers and his voice sends a thrill through your body, you push it away, focus on the anger that should be there.

“David, It’s-”

“I know who it is,” he sounds amused, and it only fuels the fire inside, whether it's in anger or arousal you cannot be sure, “I’m assuming you received my gift.” 

“Yes. I–I think you should come by and pick it up.” The wobble in your voice betrays you but you push through, “I am guessing by your note that Carol has no idea you’ve done this.”

“No. She doesn’t.” there is no wobble in his voice, and that only annoys you. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I heard what you said about how you’ve been feeling, the hormones, how horny you are and since I cannot fuck you myself, despite how badly I’d like to, I want you to be satisfied.” Your cunt clenches at the thought, at the knowledge that despite the way your body is changing, he still finds you attractive. Your hormones rage, they cloud the sense that screams that this is wrong, that he should not be saying these things to you. 

“It’s, um. David, this is so–inappropriate. I need you to come pick these things up, Carol wouldn’t be happy to know you’re speaking to me this way.” You take a deep breath, gathering your good sense. He’s silent on the other end, the sounds of people milling about in the background coming through and then he hums softly. 

“Understood, I’ll stop by after work.” 

“Thank you.” You hang up, and bask in the rightness of putting him in his place, even though your body screams and rebels at the loss of everything.

When your doorbell rings just before four-thirty, your heart races. He’s smiling when you open the door, the basket waiting on your table. He says nothing when you step aside for him to come in but the mistake becomes obvious when he fills your space. His eyes bore into yours and the smell of him, the crisp lines of his suit, the breadth of him clouds your brain. 

“There’s really none of this you’d like to keep?” He opens the package, pulling a little bullet out of the package, testing it against his palm before turning to you. Your heart races, your nipples harden, your cunt leaks. 

“Um. No–no I shouldn’t–”

“Shouldn’t?” He smiles, “Sort of sounds like you want to.”

“What I want makes no difference, you’re married, and I’m carrying a baby for your wife.”

“My baby. You’re carrying my baby.” He takes a step forward, “and you’re suffering, and to be honest, hearing what you said made me harder than I’ve ever been in my life.” He towers over you, stepping close enough that you have to tilt your head to keep eye contact. 

“It did?” Your conscience screams, begs you to see reason and to back away, to shove the basket at him and shut the door in his face. 

“Oh yes.” His fingertips brush against your shoulder, sliding up to curve around the column of your neck, “You just need someone to give it to you, don’t you baby?” He tightens his hold and a moan slips out, something filthy and his smile is sharp. When he presses his mouth to yours the dam breaks and you clutch at him like your life depends on it. 

He groans when he pulls your clothes off, his mouth engulfing your nipple, the gentle scrape of his teeth turning your cunt to liquid on your couch. With shaking hands you loosen his tie, shoving his shirt off as he rips your leggings down. 

“Turn around, I want you on your knees.” He moves away, leaving your nipples puffy and shiny with this spit. You swallow thickly before getting on your knees on your couch, your heart races at the sounds of him taking his clothes off, all of you a raw nerve when he presses up behind you. 

When he slips inside, the world makes sense.

His cock is perfect, thick enough to make you gasp, that tiny edge of pain amping up the pleasure. Your face dips down, pressing against your forearm on your sofa but he pulls you up, your back hitting his chest, his hips snap roughly, pulling you apart with every thrust. 

“That’s it baby, just take it–” He talks into your ear, one hand holding onto your belly possessively, and the other slipping around and when he touches you your body tightens up. The bullet is on and he presses it against your clit, shoving you into an intense orgasm. 

“That’s so good huh? Fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking tight–” He doesn’t stop his rhythm, his cock kisses your cervix as he fucks you through your peak, the vibrator making your legs shake. Your hands reach back to hold onto his hair, clutching. 

Tears slip out, his hand moves from your belly up to your breast, he pants his exertion into your ear and the pleasure builds again, ramping up until you reach down to pull his hand away, it’s too intense. 

“David–” The voice that comes out of your mouth isn’t yours, it’s some wounded, desperate animal and he laughs, swirling the bullet quicker until you scream, clenching around him hard enough that he groans and spills his own passion deep inside. 

He kisses your shoulder as you float back into your body, thumb strumming at your oversensitive nipple while the other lets the bullet go and cradles the swell of your belly. 

You feel his come when he pulls out, part of you gets horny all over again, part of you feels incredibly ashamed but it's hard to focus on it, especially when he sits back on your couch and pulls you into his lap. Wordlessly you straddle him, pressing yourself close. 

“We shouldn’t have…” You speak mostly to yourself before giving into the urge to kiss him, his tongue licks into your mouth, his hands sweep from your shoulders to your back, down to the swell of your ass, kissing you like he’s done it a million times. 

“No, we shouldn’t have, but we did, and if you give me like twenty minutes we’ll do it again.” He skims his nose against your throat, and you hate that it excites you so much you feel both your arousal and his come drip out of you. 

He stays another hour, fucks you in your bed, and again in your shower before getting dressed and leaving you sore, and more satisfied than you’ve been in years.

The basket stays. 

-

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[umathurwin]

Omg hi! I feel like I’m the only sofia hater out there bc all i see are people loving her character is so boring to me and her and rafe relationship seems so forced to me like she is supposed to help him reconcile with his sister but instead, she spent all season doing nothing apart from the hollis plot

being called a sofia hater cracks me up because i feel like i never talk about her, in fact i usually forget she exists 😭 but i’ll accept it, because i really do hate the way her character (which had a great premise) was totally wasted

a youtuber i really love once described pansy parkinson from harry potter as “an original character wearing the skin of a minor character” and i think that perfectly encapsulates sofia. they make these moodboards, these stories, these elaborate headcanons about a character we know little to nothing about. do i respect it? hell yes. it takes a lot of work. but to have these intense convictions and arguments about a 0.5-dimensional character… WHY?

i went and rewatched every scene in s4 where she even just appears and wrote down my thoughts on them (despite how tedious this was… the action really does rely on the pogues) and like… wow. where do i start

her s4 introduction is the scene where rafe scatters ward’s ashes on the boat, and it’s awkward but in a fair way. i wouldn’t really know what to do either. in the same episode, she’s at the enduro cheering for rafe, but she is inexplicably standing TOTALLY by herself. i still have no idea if this was just filmed oddly or if it was deliberate but this photo kills me… girl why are you alone? at no other point is she physically excluded from the kooks like this. wtf

and after that? nearly every single moment she and rafe share the screen? he’s awful to her. he verbally mocks her in the bar when she tries to calm him down. he flirts with hollis right in sofia’s face and abases her for feeling hurt. he dismisses her every time she tries to express her opinion. rafe does not respect his girlfriend, nor does he care about her thoughts and values. how do i know?

because she knows. how exactly did she convince him to take the deal, again? well, first she says she thinks it’s a good idea, which merely amuses him. then, she makes up a lie about other club members denigrating rafe and how this deal could improve his social status—i believe this to be a fabrication because it easily could’ve and should’ve been explicit on screen if true— and this causes him make up his mind. she knows rafe’s insecurities. she knows what does and doesn’t entice him. and yeah, i’ll be honest, sometimes it makes me sick to think about how deeply she knows this man, and how little he knows/cares about her

rafe brings up marriage, living together, a future with sofia. but do you notice anything about his big grand speeches? ever notice how, when he’s describing his fantasy, it revolves around material things he can own and show off— and sofia has always been one of them? rafe never has anything to say about what she specifically does for him, what he likes about her. bc… what does he like about her? rafe is unfortunately, at the end of the day, selfish. he focuses on what he’ll be able to give her, and what having a pretty wife says about him. the occupant of that role is, well, interchangeable

when rafe “proposed” to her and she did not confess the scam, i knew it was over. this is rafe cameron we’re talking about, a man who values loyalty more than anything in the world, and that was her last shot at coming clean before it was too late. committing a betrayal (well…in the eyes of the narrative…more on that in a sec) and hiding it from him? guys there was zero chance of him learning the truth and forgiving her. i watched the premier with my mother and i even turned to her and said we just watched the final nail go into the coffin. and it did!

(also, not to beat a dead horse, but even after he gives her the ring and he leaves to morocco, he dismissively excludes her again! “i have to go” “what are you doing?” “don’t worry about it, bye!” and she just takes it?! STAND UP!)

fundamentally, sofia’s “betrayal” plotline was weak or, at the very least, not very well thought-out. it’s like the idea of sofia going behind rafe’s back was pitched, but they were unsure how to integrate that into the season. the explosive reaction that rafe had when groff revealed the plot seemed contrived, like the show wanted to put more of the blame on sofia than was warranted. rafe had all but made up his mind by the time sofia had been paid off; to claim that she was the big catalyst in his decision is unfair and literally just wrong. sure, he liked her giving her blessing (because he already wanted to say yes), but i have a really, really genuine question for all of you.

if she had said no, would he have called off the deal?

(spoiler, no. because when she changed her mind after learning of the scam, he dismissed her yet again. the show has countless opportunities for rafe to just care about his girlfriend, and he never takes them!)

while i’m nitpicking, she also never learns any information via her own efforts. every single time she uncovers a new detail, it’s because she’s working around a loud-mouth kook who coincidentally says the right thing at the right moment as she refills their ewers. fuck, can we give her a CRUMB of agency? please?

and yeah, i don’t even engage in any theory that sofia helped rafe reunite with his family. did she ever give any meaningful advice to him? she didn’t even have context—was he ever planning on telling her exactly what he’d done to sarah and her friends? could sarah even pick this girl out of a lineup?! ya, she really is the glue in the cameron dynamic. lol

counter arguments i’m ready to address:

“he takes the deal for her!” funny because,,, he really doesn’t. we even watch the reason he takes the deal— his family. rafe likes the opportunity from the jump but is hesitant because of the investment, and a dreamy montage of him, ward, and sarah is what cements his decision. sofia canonically had nothing to do with it

“but he says he’s taking the deal for him and sofia when he’s alone with hollis!” correct! but you’ll notice he literally only brings her up when hollis starts hitting on him. he’s not attracted to hollis, and her advances make him visibly uncomfortable. bringing up sofia was a way to shut down hollis without explicitly telling a business partner to get off his ass

“rafe brings up sofia’s opinion of the deal with groff!” true, but i actually see this as a display of rafe’s tact and emotional intelligence. rafe is suspicious that he’s been scammed, but it’s genuinely not wise to barge into the office of the man who has $400k of your money and your testicles in his fist to start threatening him— even when he’s not a murderer. “hey… so my gf thinks you’re scamming me… thoughts?” he’s being coy. he’s being smart. he’s not bringing up sofia in a loverboy context. cmon

***

deep inhale. okay, i’m done. i’m sorry i always forget about her. but it’s so much better than the alternative

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

So I'm a gay man from a completely different part of the world from any of you, and so I don't have much insight into the dating culture of the US because I've never participated in it - or dating culture at all, really. Nonetheless, I'm gonna leave my two cents on this under the cut. Feel free to ignore them if you'd prefer to.

what's essential is understanding that other people including women are full humans just like you, who matter just as much as you.

I'm mostly sure OP already understands that. There's no indication that he doesn't, at least. In either case, this is by your own admission the bare minimum. We both know that the bare minimum isn't gonna cut it here.

there are so many women who are out there who want a guy who is caring and on top of his shit. like the bar is so low for some women, it's not hard to clear it.

See, showing other people that you're caring is hard, especially when you're showing it with the intention of pursuing them romantically - which, let's not kid ourselves, is the intention here. Even if you do mange to convey that - again, it's still only the bare minimum. It's good, sure, but not enough.

less dating apps, more befriending all sorts of people through hobbies and volunteer work.

"Befriend" is the key word here. Dating people you were friends with befrehand is complicated to say the least, we could have an entire separate thread about it, but to summarize my outlook I think it's half a matter of luck and half one of finesse. If you don't do everything exactly, perfectly right, it can easily end with both of you sad, angry and potentially traumatized - and it will be your fault, not in the sense you'll be blamed for it, but in that it'll be objectiely your fault.

figure out what you have to offer to the world, offer it, people will take notice.

Sure, they might. If they do though, will anyone want it? If they want it, why would they not seek it from someone else? Someone who's been doing it for longer, who's more skilled at it, or who's just got more to offer besides it? Just "having something to offer" isn't good enough, it's the bare minimum.

There's nothing you can offer that can't be easily found somewhere else. It doesn't matter who you are, there's always gonna be a billion other people exactly like you except better. And what, you want somebody else to settle for you when it'd be easier, less risky and more gratifying to just look for somoene better instead? That's selfish. I'm not being coy here, it is objectively, undeniably selfish to want that. I do need this to be clear: I'm not blaming anyone other than OP/the hypothetical man this advice is aimed at in this scenario.

it also really really sucks for straight women, my god does it suck ass. you need to understand the ways it sucks for women before you can improve your game, btw.

I mean, I think the ways it sucks are fairly obvious. A lot of people do it but at least for me it's kind of hard to ignore the murders, rapes and domestic abuse. By all means seek to understand them and work to not perpetrate them, but "Don't be a piece of shit" really doesn't paint a very clear picture of what, specifically, you're supposed to do beyond that point.

so many people want out of the box and are out of the box. go befriend and dare them.

If you pardon me being cynical (it's sort of my gimmick, if you couldn't tell), what reason do the people out of the box have to give some dumbass newcomer who just crawled out of the box the time of day? Just thinking "out of the box" isn't enough. It's the bare minimum. It's still just objectively not good enough.

you've set up an equation that means that you must always lose, and it's the type of equation that is primed to make you hate women.

I mean yes and no? From what I understood, one of the equation's components is "if a man fails to find a relationship, the failure is all his". If you interpret this as a false preconception that the world around you holds then yeah I can see how it'll lead down that path, but if you interpret it as true then at worse it'll just lead to hating oneself. Not ideal no, but at least no women are impacted as a result.

this equation is false, and based on false premises, that you and a ton of men and women think is gospel.

It depends on how you define false, really. If we go by objective, observable reality then actually both the presented equations are false and all human interaction is nothing but the absurd acts of chemicals (this is what I believe, to put all my cards on the table).

If you wanna be less Reddit-ey about it though, one could easily argue that - because "the equation" is, consciously or otherwise, upheld by the majority of the population (at least the ones involved in the straight dating scene anyway), then it's true in the sense that it is the social norm that you're expected to abide by. You can say it's morally wrong, sure, but it's still just as "true" as things like dining etiquette and formal grammar.

Feel free to ignore dining etiquette all you like, but you're gonna get a lot of mean looks from relatives and restaurant staff.

one of your falsities is that straight and bi women don't like feminine men. this is patently false. have you met a goth woman? have you met a woman who is in fandom? they are jerking it to the most pathetic and wet sissy rat men.

Fictional men and real men are radically different. For starters, fictional men are just plainly easier to grow emotionally attached to because they come with none of the... "Baggage", for the lack of a better word, and just because someone thinks baby-faced white twinks (because make no mistake, that is what 99.5% of fandom, regardless of gender, imagines when they hear the words "feminine man") look hot on TV doesn't mean they'd ever want to actually date one. Hell, even baby-faced white twinks are becoming kinda passé. Himbos are all the rage right now and I'm sorry but the average guy just isn't himbo material.

Another reason you shouldn't use people's attractin to fictional characters as a baromater is because fictional characters are just kind of... Innately superior to real people, in the sense that it's much easier to glance over all the less palatable aspects of their characters and focus exclusively on the aspects that appeal to you. You can't really do that with a real person.

This is of course not even taking cultural differences into account. I am gay myself and even I'm afraid of presenting as femininely as I'd like to beause (body image issues nonwithstanding) I live in rural Brazil and that's just not socially accepted here, be it by women or men. If I were a straight guy and I did try being A Little Gender and Gay I'd get rightfully told to go fuck myself.

So for my conclusion, I definitely don't know enough about the topic to say whether or not you're right about it, but the advice offered is only a basic foundation that only really helps if you've already got okay to good social skills - which let's be honest, just doesn't describe most men, straight or otherwise.

Even if a guy does every single thing you've advised here though, all he'll have accomplished is... Being a sort of okay guy, maybe. That's a good start for sure but even then you're still gonna fall short. You're still not gonna be interesting, or special, or exciting... Or good enough. And in my experience, if you aren't these things already, you'll probably never be.

TL;DR, here's my point: I think your advice is ultimately harmless, but commits the usual error of only providing a semi-real sense of hope. I'm willing to bet a lung that you and your casanove friends all have much, much more to offer to potential partners than anyone in this thread has or ever will have... And that's kinda the problem. The harsh reality you're avoiding is that some people aren't meant to find love - and if you haven't already found it, that probably includes you.

For what it's worth, I do at least have a boyfriend. We'll probably never meet IRL, but it's good enough for me. Maybe the real lesson OP and other guys should learn is how to acept the cards you've been dealt.

I looked at this thread

and it's another signal from the world of something like "sociosexual realism". Which is like, feminism or whatever told us that men and women were equally agentic, but unfortunately it was lying, and actually it's men's responsibility to be seductive, and if they fail at that then TFR goes down and the Amish win.

It's not just the thread, a lot of relationships and dates make me feel this way.

I'm stuck believing this unpleasant belief. What am I missing? Is the world not like that?

[thatbitchery]

little acts of feminism you do daily?

acts of feminism lmao.

I'm a misandrist before I'm a feminist actually. Largely I just hate men I don't exactly love women but

When a gay man uses bitch or slut or whore etc I just use fag. Two can play this game. We can both use terms of degradation here buddy. Yours based on my sex mine based on your sex too. FAGGGGGGGGGOT. You don't get a pass you're a man that loves men you're worse than straight men to me.

I address women, married women, with their title and maiden name (and if I don't know them I'll use ma'am ). Dr Laney wtf is Mrs MacAdams who is he I'm talking to you I'll use YOUR name

Its not exactly an act but it's physically impossible for me to consume pop music. I tried watching the Grammys (CONGRATS TO MOM MISS BEY MWAH FOR THE CULTUREE) and almost threw up Sabrina Carpenter why. Men just dancing minimal in comfortable clothes full covered and one later of camera ready make up as women do entire routines 3/4 naked and in heels plus enough make up to season an Indian festival I'll throw up. I'll actually throw up. Get out. Why is Charlie XCX pouring wine on her boobs in that MV it does not even match the story? Why are women in pop like this? What are you doing ? Anyway shout out my girls Sia , Alessia Cara and Billie Eilish mwah

I don't interact with men unless I have to and when I do I make sure they know I didn't want to be there I just mhm and nod all night contribute nothing and stupidly drink. Because why do you even exist bud. In spaces where I can't avoid them I just limit interactions and when they happen I make sure they know I did not consent to it. Like at work when I have to share spaces with them I just say nothing and use one word responses and it's obviously not shyness it's just my guy get the fuck out. Which makes them want to serve me so win win .or destroy me, which is okay. Two can always play that game and one of us is naturally irrational and emotional ask walls .

I always give women the benefit of the doubt 10000× and do not hold women to holiness. Amber Heard my love I hope you actually did great his ass,for my female ancestors that use to get beat mwah. Blake Lively babygirl I hope you actually did coerce him like MILLIONS of women have to go through everyday. The world will only defend women if they're saints not me I defend women because the sun exists idk. Yes 100% have an abortion because it's a son for the girls that are murdered and neglected for being daughters. Mwah. Queen do you need funds? I'll hook you uppppp.

When a man accuses me of doing something that I didn't do I go and do it. You can't accuse me for free brah. This guy accused me of stealing from him so I went and stole? After I was proven innocent obviously so now he can't accuse me again without being racist. When women accuse me of something I let it go. When men do I just go actually do it. If I don't wanna I accuse them of worse and you will nottttt get out of it unscathed babes I'm African. Think thrice.

I always believe the woman. Even when I know for a fact she's lying. You know what queen matter of fact I was there I saw it with my eyes. More than women's rights I support women's wrongs. By default women right men wrong. Men have to go through hoops to even get me to consider them. If a woman says it it's true. By default. Go play video games or serve in the army .

I don't believe in God or religion because ew.

If a man wants me to believe something he has to prove it to me or hes lying. I learned this when I realized women have to prove things to men bc men are just considered right by default and women will pull out Harvard level data and men will be like lol lies. So I take one for the team I made my boss pull out data that the company is doing WELL in a meeting. Like are you sure?. Idk I feel it's wrong so maybe its wrong. If IDs right prove it.

I have no soft spot for men (or women) go hunt. Please. Go bring me a boar sir. I don't speak to men that are beneath me in any category men are better than women you are alphas leaders kings gods RAAAAAAH so as a man why am I smarter than you. And yes grades matter shut up. What was your GPA. SHUT UP. What's your net worth? Get out. As a superior being why are you ugly. Am I ugly? And I'm a lesser being!! A woman? Ew. Get out. As a man youre supposed to be better than me it's nature. And I'm really really really good, so good luck. I'm hypergamous like that. And mot just one front, buddy. Alll of them. You are a MAN. a natural born LEADER. and ALPHA. rrrraaaaaah or whatever.

I just don't take men seriously. Like okay buddy whatever you say.

If you ever put me in leadership of anything just know the men will wilt the girls will thrive and if a man does thrive then he is, in fact, an alpha male.

Like I said, it's not as much feminism as it is misandry. I don't exactly like women or put effort into empowering us I just really hate men.

[pascaloverx]

MESSY

Author's Note: The character Michael does not belong to me, but to the film Hoard (2023). There won't be a summary at this time because I'm unsure if the fanfic will continue. So, if you enjoy this preview, please comment and like. Engage! Thank you for your attention.

PREVIEW

There is a growing desperation within you. Just a few weeks ago, you would never have imagined yourself in this position, but you have run out of options. Your father took a new wife mere months after your mother’s passing, and she had no interest in playing the role of a stepmother. So, he cast you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. "It’s my house," were the last words you heard before being thrown onto the street as if you meant nothing.

Now, you are about to knock on the door of a man named Michael, who is looking for a roommate. He could very well be a lunatic, living in a house that, from what you can tell, is surrounded by garbage and rats. That is not an exaggeration—there is a massive mouse scurrying into the alley beside the house, carrying something in its mouth. But even that won’t stop you from taking what little savings you have and paying to live here.

"Hello?" The man you assume to be Michael opens the door just as you knock, catching you off guard, and you nearly stumble backward. Fortunately, he notices and grabs your hand to steady you. He’s sweaty, and you almost slip from his grip.

"Oh my God, is that a puddle of water?" you ask, realizing your body has lightly brushed against something wet in front of his house.

"Hate to break it to you, but we haven’t had any rain, so it’s probably…" he says casually, implying that whatever you touched wasn’t water, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Great. Now I need a shower," you mutter, straightening up and resisting the urge to strip off your clothes right then and there.

"Did you come here just to ask for a shower?" he asks, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in front of you. Great. A smoker.

"Who in their right mind would show up at a stranger’s house in the middle of the afternoon just to ask for a shower?" you ask, still debating whether this is worth it. Every instinct is telling you to turn around and leave, but then reality hits—you can’t afford to be picky. The rent is cheap, and, more importantly, you have nowhere else to go.

"I’m actually here about the roommate ad." Michael tilts his head slightly, dragging his gaze over you as if trying to read your entire life story.

"You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d want to live in a place like this—no offense," he says, exhaling smoke through his nose. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, biting down your irritation.

"When you have no other choice, you can live anywhere. The important thing here is that you have something I need, and I have money to pay for it," you say, stepping closer despite the heavy scent of smoke clinging to him. Michael takes another drag of his cigarette before smirking.

"The way you’re saying that makes it sound like you’re offering me money for something else," he muses, amusement flickering in his eyes. He steps toward you, finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the ground, crushing it under his boot. You scoff, letting out a dry laugh. His self-confidence is astonishing.

"And what exactly do you think I’d be paying you for, other than a place to live?" you counter, keeping your expression unreadable. His smirk deepens. "Come upstairs, and I’ll show you."

The way his brown eyes stay locked on you sends a wave of heat through your body—not from attraction, but from the sheer audacity of his words. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. That’s it.

"I knew this was a mistake," you mutter, grabbing your suitcase and turning to leave. You don't even make it two steps before strong arms lift you off the ground, catching you completely off guard.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you shout, squirming in his hold, but he doesn’t let go. He’s stronger than he looks, his grip firm yet effortless.

"There are plenty of things wrong with me. It’s my job to keep them hidden from you, and yours to find them out on your own. Now stop squirming—I’ll let you go in a second," he mutters, his voice strained as he maneuvers you into the house with unsettling ease.

You barely have time to process what just happened before your eyes sweep over the interior. A narrow staircase leads to the upper floor, while to the side, the living room sprawls in cluttered disarray. At the back of the house, you spot the kitchen. The air carries a faint, unpleasant odor, and you do your best not to react too strongly as you take in the mess. Michael walks in behind you, dragging your suitcase inside before straightening up.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Michael. I really do need someone to help with the expenses, so it’d be an honor to have you here. There are two bedrooms upstairs, along with the bathroom, which we’ll have to share. Kitchen’s straight ahead. Turn to the side, and you’ll find the living room. Rent’s due at the beginning of every month, and while I’ll try to be the best roommate I can, don’t expect me to change who I am," he says, extending a hand as if sealing an agreement. You hesitate, every part of you still screaming to leave, but the reality of your situation weighs heavier. You have nowhere else to go.

"Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll pay the rent on time, but you should know that I won’t change either. And I refuse to live in a dump," you say, watching as he pulls out yet another cigarette and lights it right in front of you.

Michael smirks, tucking the cigarette between his lips. "Do whatever you want, princess. Cleaning supplies should be around here somewhere. Officially, mi casa es su casa," he says, blowing out smoke as he steps closer, slow and deliberate. You stand your ground, refusing to be intimidated.

"I have somewhere to be, but when I get back, we can talk more. There’s a spare key on the hook behind the door. Since you’re so keen on cleanliness, I’d suggest you start with that shower," he adds with a smirk before giving you a wink and disappearing out the door, leaving you alone in the middle of the mess.

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[martialartslover7]

And this is exactly why, I refuse to acknowledge Neji's death as canon. Not only did it serve to disrespect his character arc, along with NaruHina (seriously, what were they thinking? NaruHina was already super lacking in screentime, along with the rest of the Hyuga clan, making this sacrifice just come off as a cynical and meanspirited way to steer the ship into the canon continuity, just so the shippers would shut their mouths, NaruHina fam, you deserve better), and feeding this contradictary narrative of "fate cannot be defied, in the end", essentially proving Neji's delusions as a kid correct in the process.

If anything, Hiashi should have been the one to sacrifice himself during the war, not Neji. With his passing, the Hyuga would have finally been freed, and could be reformed from the ground up, at long last. The Main and Side Branch would cease to exist, because either he, or Hinata, take the crown, whatever you prefer. Because, at least, the Hyuga situation would have gotten resolved in a much more satisfying way. And Naruto could have still felt affected by this sacrifice, because, losing a parent is NEVER pleasant, no matter how shitty they were in their lifetime, because, if Naruto's forgiving nature would have gotten applied, he would have found it an insane shame that Hiashi never got the chance to be a better father. That would have been far more impactful and believable, than telling Obito "you're cool".

And Boruto showcasing Hiashi as a loving, redeemed grandpa. actively makes me hate Ikemoto and Kishimoto for this nonsense. Like, thanks for the tease, assholes! Don't you think, you should have invested that energy in actually fleshing out the Hyuga clan instead? All that energy he has, treating Boruto and Himawari like his babies, should have gotten invested in learning the hard way, he shouldn't mistreat his, and his brother's, children, the way he did. This is so freaking cynical, I can't. And the height of all insults came for me, the moment Naruto's and Hinata's wedding rolled around, and Hinata looked at her father for approval. DUDE. STAY OUT OF HER LIFE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOUR APPROVAL MEANS NOTHING! LEAVE HER ALONE!

Also, poor Tenten, man, as if the story hasn't disrespected her enough already, now she even lost her emotional anchor, that was Neji. Even with their lack of screentime, it was more than clear, he and Tenten were the only mature ones in their team, and felt to have had the most migraines, because of Lee's and Guy's antics. If my headcanon of Tenten being a weapon- and ninja tool inventor were to be applied here, she could have used a blood sample from Neji to preserve the effects of the Byakugan, into a pair of visors to use for those shinobi, who were born with lackluster genetics like herself, Lee and Guy. And Neji is a huge weapon lover himself, he would felt entranced to see his girl working her inventor magic.

FUCK NEJI'S DEATH. FUCK HIASHI. FUCK "THE LAST". AND FUCK IKEMOTO AND KISHIMOTO FOR THINKING, THIS WAS AN ACCEPTABLE WAY TO CONCLUDE EVERYTHING.

They'll never make me love you, Hiashi. YOU MUST PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY BABIES!! 😭

[holy3cake]

Hello, Trouble

Chapters: 2/2

Fandom: Boarders

Rating: Explicit (only part 2)

Pairing: Rupert x Male Reader

Summary: After attending St Gilbert's on a scholarship, you start to reminisce on your time away from home. It's the Spring Ball, and Carol has just given you your final marching orders. Is it too late to admit that you have a massive crush on the dumbest boy in school? Is your deviant roommate going to even care that you're being expelled? Perhaps Rupert cares about you more than you think, but there's only one way to find out.

"Sure, Rupert was possibly the worst roommate you’d ever had, but you would miss the chase. It was thrilling, not knowing whether the arrogant Aphrodite would ruin your life or fall into a soft caress."

Chapter 1: Repression

As the ugly coach pulled up, you tried not to roll your eyes at the students milling about at your side. Most of them had leafy-green faces, matching the hideous lining of the so-called school bus. It was due to binge drinking of course, which despite your course leader constantly lecturing on the subject, was falling on deaf ears. Even though you never really liked the taste of cheap cider or stupidly expensive whisky, you always joined in. It was a ritual of sorts, and you knew better than to dob Abby in if she popped the pills out again. Of course, the distraction never worked for you. Not even as you boarded the bus and bumped into the class harlot, flicking her unsightly fair hair from her face. Florence was poison, but you’d never tell her why you hated her so much. You’d laugh, and pretend every word out of her whorish mouth was hilarious. Which is what you chose to do at that moment, chugging down a swig of your luxurious yet foul Scotch. 

“Oh, Florence! Gorgeous heels, darling.” You drawled, knowing full well that she was wearing last season Prada. She simpered, blowing an egregious kiss full of Tiffany and stark perfume back in your direction. 

“Thank you! It’s our Spring ball, have to make an effort you know?” Florence looked you up and down, as if she was sneering at your outfit choice. Possibly as she wasn’t used to seeing such bare skin in public, or she had no taste whatsoever. You knew it was the latter, when her tongue was so far down Jahiem’s throat. With a forced smile you giggled back, straightening your striped jacket. 

“I completely agree. Enjoy your night, Flo.” It was difficult to stay civil with her, but you forced down your disdain to move further along the bus. Florence wasn’t worth a minute of your time, and you didn’t want to look at her powered face any longer. You swore that she scoffed behind your back, but again, it wasn’t worth a sneeze let alone an acknowledgement. Instead you decided to locate your friends, a genuine smile spreading across your face when you discovered Toby and Abby canoodling at the back of the bus. They leapt apart at your arrival, blushing madly as though nothing had ever happened. Toby patted the space beside them, and you clinked his bottle of vodka with your own glass as you plonked down. 

“‘Sup rude boy? You got beef with Flo again?” Toby grinned, throwing his arm around his sweet girlfriend. Unlike Florence, you’d been friends with Abby for years, and you knew she wasn’t the enemy. Even if she would report back to the blonde witch, you didn’t exactly hide your feelings regarding said cow. 

“She’s playing J. You know that.” You jogged your knee, hoping Toby would be pacified with that response. 

“Nah, bro. Ain't our business, is it? You sure it’s not because she dissed your man?” Toby smirked, sensing the oncoming jab that you delivered to his ribs. 

“He’s not my man, he’s a fucked-up mummy’s boy that thinks he’s God’s gift. Just because he’s my roommate, I don’t have to give a shit about him, Tobes.” At the mention of the deviant living in your shared dorm, your anger flared. Toby seemed to have some delusional idea that you cared about him, even though you despised him more than Florence. But as you stewed, you didn’t realize Abby and Toby quietly cackling at your outrage. 

“Oh, you’ve got it bad, baby. So what if you have a thing for him? It’s not like anyone else does.” Abby shrugged, kicking her feet up. 

“How about the fact that he’d beat the shit out of me? I don’t need that drama.” You didn’t resist the urge to roll your eyes this time, gulping down throatfuls of heated alcohol to match the fury on the outside. 

Rupert Watlington-Geese was a menace to society. You’d seen the videos of him pouring champagne on homeless people before you’d even joined the school, and the real man was worse than the internet fiend. On your first meeting he’d hidden your boxers and claimed it was an initiation ritual, forcing you to go commando against itchy school trousers in the first period. Childish pranks would’ve been fine, but his behaviour had started to get rowdy from your second glance. From the rumours that the little shit had spread, you’d had more sexual experience than most B-list celebrities. You didn’t hide the fact that you were gay, but somehow you’d had a threesome with two teachers and sucked off four boys behind the bike sheds. But you knew Rupert’s game, and somehow had grown used to the inane stunts that he’d pull in an attempt for attention. 

In other instances, you would’ve grown tired and ignored him from the get go. However, if you had, you wouldn’t have seen when Rupert’s mischievous eyes grew sad, and he’d cried dismally into his pillow. You’d never tell Abby or Toby in a million years, but you knew how warm Rupert felt when he’d melted against you in a depressive episode. If his dad had promised to visit but stood him at the last minute, Rupert would always come to you for comfort. Florence was useless in those moments, she’d never understand how fragile Rupert was under all the ego and false cockiness. So perhaps you were a little more susceptible to Rupert’s fragility than you thought, but he didn’t make it easy on you. One day he’d be flashing you his trademark smirk, pretending that he enjoyed his empty existence of pranks and hurting people. On another day, he’d be breaking down in your arms and blinking back tears through those beautiful chestnut eyes. That was another thing that irritated you. Rupert was fucking gorgeous, and a combination that you’d never encountered before. He was ethereal, pale skin glowing in the darkness like some mystical creature. His hazel eyes were always looking at you, whether they were earnest or scheming. And those curls. God, you wanted to tug those magical curls until he cried. Okay, maybe you were lying a little to yourself. There was a definite attraction there, but you were 90% certain that he’d smash your face in if you told him. 

As you were daydreaming, it was as though your thoughts could summon fiction into reality. The man in question bounded up the bus steps, and Abby took the opportunity to torture you further. She sent you a cheeky smile before making her intentions clear, and you turned in horror to the spare seat beside you. 

“Rupert! Join us!” Abby’s voice perforated your ears like a megaphone, and you knew you had to move quickly. But to your dismay, the coach had filled up in record time, and you couldn’t move without leaving the bus entirely. Instead, you downed the remains of your Dalmore single malt and smiled with too much teeth as Rupert sat beside you. His outfit could’ve given you a cardiac arrest, but you remained calm. His rumpled curls were slicked back behind his ears, exposing far too much of his neck. Rupert’s black silk shirt (if you could call it that) cut down into a sharp v-shape, exposing a little bit of his chest. The scent of Lynx Africa infiltrated the bus, and you wanted to gag, or gag him. He looked like a ridiculous rich boy that had been dressed by Carol, yet your jeans grew tighter at his appearance. You wanted to strip him bare, to rip away whatever hideous designer clothes that his mum had chosen for him and pin him against the faded bus seats. The Scotch was making you reckless, and you had to relax, lest actually find out what Rupert’s tongue tasted like. 

“Hi, dickhead.” Rupert greeted you, which didn’t help in the slightest. Today he was wearing his snarkiest grin, which made you want to bite the arrogance away. But then you felt the pang of empathy, causing you to look away and grip your arm. Honestly, you knew why you were feeling such a whirlwind of emotions. Carol had delivered the final blow to your confidence earlier that day, and you had to tell Rupert the truth. 

What was the truth? That you’d lost your scholarship, of course. That’s why you were scrambling to answer a sarcastic salutation from your nemesis, because you had to tell him that you’d never see him again. You wondered if he’d even blink at your news, or if he’d just tell you it was a valiant effort and you didn’t belong there. Sure, Rupert was possibly the worst roommate you’d ever had, but you would miss the chase. It was thrilling, not knowing whether the arrogant aphrodite would ruin your life or fall into a soft caress. Yes, you had stroked his wet cheeks before. But as Abby had declared weeks ago, the Spring ball was certainly the time to tie up loose ends and live the night like it was your last. So, what was on your agenda as the bus pulled away from the school and headed to one of the rascal’s ridiculously large estates? You turned to Rupert, flicking your fringe from your eyes as you beamed at him. 

“Hello, Trouble.” You beamed, eyes sparkling as you gazed into those cat-like eyes. 

Tonight, you were going to break a preposterously ugly bed, donated by the National Trust. Or two. And a thousand year-old table, when Rupert suggested it. 

Chapter 2: Liberty (NSFW WARNING HERE)

It was hard to remember how you ended up in this situation, with Rupert’s hands down your pants and your dick ready to burst with his rough onslaught. But you definitely weren’t complaining, you just wished you had a clearer head when your tip started to throb. Rupert’s hot breath was on your neck, and with one hand kneading your balls and one expertly caressing your cock, you tried to withhold the gasps escaping your throat. It wasn’t until you gripped the rich boy’s shoulders that you halted him, cursing yourself for delaying such a strong orgasm. 

“Rupert! Wait, wait. My head is spinning.” The Scotch had been brutal on you, and you definitely didn’t want to ruin the mood by passing out or throwing up. Rupert raised one eyebrow elegantly, but obediently pulled his hands away. What you didn’t expect was for him to hold your hand, steering you to sit on the creaky bed in whichever bedroom you’d decided to argue in. He left for a moment, returning with a glass of water that he’d seemingly produced from nowhere. As you took the glass, your hands met again and you tried not to let the soft feeling linger. It was so out of character for him to be kind to you, but you drank the cool water regardless. He sat almost tentatively beside you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Beatrix wasn’t trying to hurt you, you know. She was trying to stop a fight.” Rupert suddenly announced, staring up at the four-poster bed. 

“What?” You sat up, finishing the water. 

“You called her a nosy cow. You called Florence a lot worse but…” Rupert shrugged, trying to hide the grin on his face. 

Hearing the word cow suddenly brought a drunken flashback into perspective. You’d arrived at the party in good spirits, clinging to Toby and Abby like a third arm. But the underlying tension was still gnawing at you, and you tried to dance as though nothing was wrong. You’d danced with Jahiem and Femi, which didn’t cause any problems, not until Jahiem had sought out Florence on the dancefloor. Pretending as though you were on top of the world, you’d gritted your teeth again and offered to spin Florence around. Except when she’d slipped conveniently into Jahiem’s arms, you’d called her a cheap slut that opened her doors more frequently than a lift. That was until Bea had gently tapped you on the back with gentle eyes and pure intentions, which had only aggravated you further. 

“Oh, Bea. I should find her and apologise.” But as you tried to stand, your head whirled and Rupert sniggered at your attempt to walk. 

“Might be a bit hard, considering you can’t use your feet. Sit down, you cock.” Rupert tutted at you, but there was a curious look in his eyes. 

“What?” You glared, crossing your arms. 

“You’re concerned about Beatrix, but you won’t apologise to Florence?” Rupert frowned, but you weren’t sure if he was annoyed about that. 

“No. Why should I? Because she’s your precious little girlfriend? Please.” You managed to laugh, leaning back against the ugly bed sheets. 

“Don’t take the piss. She’s not a slag.” Rupert growled, making you jump. You were unsure of his feelings before, but he seemed content to play second best to his ex-girlfriend again. There was a protective spark in his tone, and even though you should’ve yielded, you couldn’t care less. If he wanted to get back with his girlfriend whilst simultaneously wanking off another guy, it wasn’t your problem. That was his prerogative, and you had nothing left to lose anyway. With a bitter laugh, you nudged his shoulder and rolled your eyes. 

“I really don’t care what she is. Go and waste your time chasing after her, Rupert. I’m sick of your constant bullshit.” Finally regaining feeling in your legs, you rose from the bed and stumbled to the door, fumbling for the handle. To your surprise, the deviant was back at your side, blocking the exit. 

“I mean it! Get out of my fucking way.” You squared up to him, ready to fight. You were pretty sure that was what caused Rupert to touch your cock originally, but that wasn’t your main focus anymore. His moping and whining had set your veins alight, and there was no point at all listening to him defend his “true love”. 

“You’re sick of my bullshit?! What a joke! What about you, huh?” Rupert cornered you, and you held up your fists defensively. Whilst you weren’t sure if he’d actually hit you, you couldn’t tell his mood right now. The strutting peacock had shown his feathers, but the arrogance wasn’t the same as usual. Rupert seemed to be lashing out because he was hurt, it was written across his face in petty insolence. As you took a step back he followed you, glowering with those frighteningly beautiful eyes. 

“Hanging around the popular kids like a little stalker, hoping that someone will notice you? Do you think you’re fucking special, hm? You’re nothing.” Rupert spat insidiously, physically showering you with his spit. Even as the tiny glob landed on your cheek, you made no attempt to move. Whilst you burned on the inside, you fought the urge to bite your lip. Hearing him insult you shouldn’t have been hot, but Rupert was a different breed when he was angry. Perhaps because you’d never seen him show such genuine fury, it made you want to poke the bear. So that’s what you did. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t need to be noticed. At least my mummy and daddy loved me.” You took the higher ground, watching conflict flash across startled hazel orbs. 

“How does it feel, Rupert? Knowing that your mummy prefers your brother? Laying awake at night whilst your girlfriend takes Jahiem’s cock up her-” You reeled at the taste of blood, eyes widening as you gently dabbed your lip with your thumb. Your cheek was starting to sting, and you were bewildered that Rupert had actually slapped you. Through the hurt, your cock started to stand to attention again. Fuck. You weren’t sure what was worse, the fact that you were ragingly hard, or that Rupert would see the bulge in your jeans soon enough. The slap brought back your senses, and you held both hands up. 

“Alright, enough! I don’t want to fight with you.” You thought that would be enough to soothe the enraged egomaniac, but he was still heading straight for you. You braced yourself for a punch this time, but a frosty finger rested gently against your lip instead. Rupert watched you wince slightly as he ran his nail over your open wound, eyes flickering down towards your belt. The gentle action made you tremble, goosebumps littering your arms and tugging the tiny hairs on the back of your neck. Rupert stepped closer, allowing you to see the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Perhaps the panting was from anger, but you wanted to make him breathless in other ways. 

“Why not, hm? I thought you loved the chase.” Rupert outright purred, pressing you into the bedpost. You gasped, equally shocked at his accusation and the close proximity of his body. If you moved your hands, you’d feel the outline of his hips through his stupid silk shirt. This pitiful plush boy had you sussed, but you couldn't fault his observation. You did love the chase, and the prospect of leaving the school without even kissing this idiot was unthinkable. Without worrying about the consequences anymore, you gripped hideous material and kissed his imbecilic, impeccable lips. 

Whether or not he wanted to protest that he wasn’t gay, Rupert lost himself when you attacked his lips. He didn’t seem stunned at all by your advance, instead biting at the little cut on your lower lip. You groaned, meeting the aggressive swipes of his tongue with the edge of your own. God he was such a good kisser, using his hips to grind against you as your tongues played for dominance. You ran one hand up his back, snaking your fingers into his slick curls as his own digits threaded into your belt loops. A glorious moan left his lips as you wrenched his head back, gripping fistfuls of his curls as you licked down his throat. 

“No more wisecracks for me, Trouble?” You uttered softly, drawing a map of his shoulders with your tongue. Each bite and nip made him gasp, but you felt a particularly deep rasp when you reached his nipples. It was a little sad really, wondering if Florence had ever worshipped him thoroughly like this. Judging by the way he tensed and bucked against you when you pinched those gorgeous rose-pink nipples, you doubted anyone had ever explored him properly. You wanted to rectify that immediately, popping the buttons on his shirt as you reached his waist. Rupert’s hands were tangled in your floppy hair, and you were grateful for such thick locks at last. He suddenly tugged on your scalp, forcing your head upwards. 

“Will…Will you…” Rupert panted lightly, looking uncharacteristically shy. There was that slight vulnerability again, so you wanted to reassure him. Moving from your crouched position, you cupped his face and pressed your lips together again. It was a little softer, a little kinder, yet still full of heat and desperation. Rupert pawed at you, dry-humping your thigh in search of friction. 

“Will you fuck me? Make me cry…please…” Rupert rasped, hand dropping to your zipper. Your throat vibrated in response, creating a somewhat animalistic rumble. Not only did he want you to fuck him, but his warm whisper shook something deep within you. This demon would certainly be your undoing, but you welcomed Hell with open arms. To begin your descent you nodded furiously, stripping as though your clothes were offensive. 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? How badly?” You couldn’t resist teasing him, slowly easing your hand under his boxers. If he wasn’t so flustered and breathless, you would’ve yanked his trousers and boxers down immediately. But he looked so pretty painted with pink, you decided to draw out his little gasps further. Your hand circled his ass, squeezing one cheek as he urged you closer. 

“Badly. Hard. Until I break.” Rupert groaned back to you, seemingly impatient. Taking a little pity on him you melded your lips together, intoxicated with his rich taste. How someone could taste luxurious was beyond you, but he did. You savoured his spit, panting harder when he smeared it against your mouth. At the same time your finger reached his hole, startling him into a long drawn-out gasp. The muscle was so tense, constantly puckering as you gently played with him. You couldn’t see it, but there was a little puddle forming at the front of his trousers, spreading whenever you caressed his hole. Touching it clearly wasn’t enough for either of you, and Rupert wrapped his arms around you in an effort to tempt you further. Your cock pressed painfully against his abs, begging you to devour this brat the way you wanted to. Rupert touched your weeping head, gesturing at the ancient bed with a flick of his curls. He led you to the mattress, throwing the remains of his shirt away as he detached from you for a moment. The distance seemed to physically hurt him, but his signature smirk returned when he tossed his trousers and boxers in one sweep. You swore that your dick somehow grew at the sight, but you reached optimum hardness from the moment he kissed you. You watched as he climbed onto the bed, trying to keep your jaw from dropping as he got down on all fours. 

“Are you going to just stand there and stare all day?” Rupert grinned, usual cockiness returning in time just to make you smile. 

“It is a very nice view, after all.” You smiled back, moving to join him on the bed. A light amusement had broken through the tension slightly, and you felt warm all over when you stroked down his bare back. Rupert was biting his lip, eyes bright and full of mischief when he stared back at you. You held his gaze, bringing both hands down to rest against his plump butt. Unspoken emotions stirred in the pit of your belly, but you focused on bringing Rupert pleasure instead. Massaging each round mound in your hands, you slotted yourself between his legs, running a thumb over the furled muscle again. 

“Do you have any lube, Trouble?” You asked, noticing a slight blush creep down Rupert’s back. 

“N-Not here. I wasn’t exactly prepared for this, you know!” Rupert scowled, looking a little annoyed yet disappointed. 

“It’ll have to be the old fashioned way then. But I’ll take care of you.” You leaned forward, licking the shell of Rupert’s ear. “Do you want to stop, baby?” 

“No. Please, please don’t go..” Rupert begged, the tinge of fright outweighing the irritance in his tone. Your heart thudded painfully, he sounded so small and scared at the possibility of you leaving him. Planting firm but soft kisses down his spine, you felt him relaxing at the affirmation of your touch. You spread his legs, rubbing his hole slowly until his head fell forward in exhilaration. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Rupert. Forget everything else, I’m here.” You mumbled softly, threading your free hand through his fingers. He held onto you, closing his eyes as he enjoyed anything you gave him. Your lips dipped lower, and you kissed each cheek before burying yourself between them. It felt as though your cock was screaming at you, knowing that you’d soon be fucking such a gorgeous brat. But your dick could wait, you did not care about him at the moment. No, you wanted to make Rupert cry after all, and you could scarcely wait to see him shuddering in pleasure. Your tongue darted out, and you dragged it down the base of his spine, flattening it against his entrance. Rupert was trembling slightly, and you decided not to torture him for too long. Holding onto his thighs, you lapped at his hole, dipping slightly inside whenever he whined. His cock was dripping, you could hear it between each smear of your spit. It caused you to speed up, one of your hands creeping underneath to stroke his leaking head. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever fucked you with their tongue before?” You wondered aloud, switching to sucking on his rim whilst you waited for an answer. 

“What do you think, smartass?!” Rupert retorted, covering his face with his arm. His back was arching, cock slipping further into your grip. You grinned, spitting onto his asshole as he panted. 

“Then I’m glad to be the first.” You replied, slathering all of the wetness into his opening. Even though he was glistening already, you needed to be sure that he was sticky enough to feel good. If you ended up hurting him this way, you didn’t think you could ever forgive yourself. Your tongue gravitated back inside him, pressing your thumb against the sensitive nerves on the outside. Rupert clawed the sheets and your hand, blunt nails digging against your palm. 

“Put…put your finger inside me.” He demanded, scraping his lower lip with his teeth. His curls stuck to his forehead, sweaty with desire. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much?” You withdrew your lips, still caressing his butt as he struggled to speak. 

“I will. But I don’t think I could be any wetter if I were a girl…” Rupert chuckled weakly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your palm. You definitely weren’t expecting him to say something like that, but woe betide you to refuse his wishes. One hand still firmly gripping Rupert’s, you released a breath and slid a finger inside him. It was just your finger, yet he thrust his ass back against you and seemed ecstatic. 

“Shit! Another, please!” Rupert whimpered, and it suddenly dawned on you that he’d probably had something up his ass before. Perhaps not a cock, but he’d certainly done this with his own fingers. You shared a moan with him, scissoring another finger alongside the first as he took you easily. 

“How..how are you not taking me right now? Don’t you like it, hmm?” Rupert started to tease you again, but you felt that same thrill wrack through your body at his words. You rewarded him by curling your fingers upwards, pulling them out before jamming them back in. He yelled out, reaching for his cock but failing to grab it before you pinned his hand down. 

“Rupert…you know I want you…” You whined back, thrusting faster as Rupert writhed under your touch. 

“Then don’t wait anymore. Fuck me!” Rupert shoved his ass against you, pouting at your words. It made sense that he’d be demanding in bed, but you felt the same wave of sadness wash over you from earlier. You loved Rupert’s cheeky insolence, but maybe he’d never been able to fully embrace it with Florence. You wondered if their intimacy had always been rushed, with Florence retreating to her phone afterwards. You would never ask of course, but everyone gossiped. Shaking your head slightly to the intrusive thoughts, you pulled your fingers out and allowed Rupert to rub against your cock. He was the one you wanted, not the others. 

“I’ll fuck you, you little brat. It’s hot to see you beg.” You smirked, nudging the tip of your cock over his hole, feeling every flex of his muscles. 

“You’re all talk and no-oh! Mm…mm…Oh God, yes!” Rupert was ready to retort again, but you stunted him in his arrogance by gliding your solid cockhead into his weeping hole. He sucked you in, barely giving you time to register how hot and tight he was. You even had to hold his hips back, stopping him from completely bottoming out. If he did that immediately, you’d cum in seconds. No, you wanted to go slowly, feeling every inch of his fervid walls dripping with your saliva. But you had to be careful thinking about that too, your sensitivity was soaring. 

“Rupert…oh fuck..” You lost your composure for a second, finally letting Rupert engulf the rest of your length inside him. There was a slight mound just above your cock, and grazing it left both of you breathless. Rupert didn’t seem to care about his temperament anymore, fiercely fisting his cock whenever you pushed against that tight space. Your balls were starting to tighten, but you ignored them smacking against Rupert’s ass as you started to plunge your cock inside him. His walls were contracting already, and the harsh squeeze set your body on fire. 

“Ah…Ah…no, not yet!” Rupert cursed quietly to himself, confirming your suspicions when his hand came away wet. 

“Oh baby, you came already? Aww.” You decided to make fun of him a little, but it was done in good spirit. Rupert grumbled and pulled away from you, rolling over to face you. He was gorgeous, curls completely ruined and body covered in handprints. Even though he was spent, he looked at your solid cock curiously. 

“Have me again. But I want to see you this time.” Rupert mumbled grumpily, refusing to meet your eyes. You felt your eyebrow quirk at his statement, but you absolutely wanted to be inside him again. Throwing his legs over your shoulders he beckoned you back, throwing his head back in ecstasy when you found home again. Your hands found his, pressing him down into the bed as you thrust into him for the second time. Rupert made no attempt to hide his moans, almost goading you to go faster. You obeyed, hitting his prostate repeatedly until the bed creaked with your efforts. At a particularly rough thrust you reached down, needing to feel Rupert’s lips as you pounded him. Shockingly he kissed you back, wrapping his legs around your back. Your cock was straining now, desperate for a little more but chasing the need for release. Rupert cupped your face, licking the cut on your lip as you started to clench. 

“Why…why are you afraid to cum?” He asked, teasing your top lip. 

“Because…” Why were you afraid to cum? Was it because you knew you’d never see Rupert again? Because this was the best night of your life, and you’d be leaving at the end of the week? Because Rupert would never love you back, and he’d beat you up if you dared to tell anyone? It was all too much, and you were at risk of slowing down or even stopping. But the arrogant brat kissed you, and eased your worries with unusual tenderness. 

“Let yourself go. It’s you and me, right?” Rupert paused, feeling the beginning of your orgasm. As you shuddered and tensed through it, he helped you through the nerves, keeping you inside him. 

“It’s always been you. I know I’m stupid, but I…I can’t imagine life without you. I’m sorry.” Rupert sniffled, mouthing along your neck as you filled him with your essence. It took a while for your breathing to calm, but when it did, you pulled out and crushed your arms against him. You were both shaking, but you knew without a shred of doubt that you couldn’t leave him. His caresses were so soft now, all the bravado and ego shattering in a moment to hold you close. You absorbed him into your body, warm skin lightly brushing together in harmony as you shared the moment. But you experienced a moment of clarity, and in that, you knew exactly what you needed to do. 

Fuck Carol. I’m here to stay, bitch. 

Tagging in case you'd like to read: @grinningkatz (for the pretty pics ehehe), @lancedoncrimsonwings (I thought you'd like my British quips at the end for NT haha), @lord-aldhelm (would love your opinion) and obviously my usual amazing moots if you find this go wild <3

[marzipanandminutiae]

people really watch/read that scene in Emma where she talks to Mr. Knightley about how he can say whatever he wants because he's never been a dependent, and doesn't know what it's like to "have tempers to manage" and say "wow that's so sad that this adult woman has to walk on eggshells to keep the people who control her life- specifically, a man, her father -happy, and thus keep her place in the household"

and then turn around and insist that it's women's job to keep men from trying to violently take our human rights away, by just being ~sweet and kind~ to them at all times

[literallyjusttoa]

Forgot to mention in the last one, but he also calls Sally "Madam" which like, again, so formal but it fits him so well.

He also calls Sally "The Mother of Jackson", which sound like an epithet and I love it.

"I no longer felt as if someone were knitting a sweater inside my chest with hot needles" Hotdamn is this a metaphor. This is awful, but I immediately know exactly what feeling Lester is talking about. He is so good at this and it sucks lmao.

Love that Apollo points out that Percy has "long and nimble" fingers and that "he would have made an excellent musician" Just a cool thing for him to notice. He makes a lot of observations about other people's appearances, and they're surprisingly very non-judgemental. Unless he hates them, then he is extremely brutal.

Apollo recognizes the moonlace on Percy's windowsill, which is interesting bc I need to check but I think that only grows on Ogygia? Idk I gotta fact check that one, its v interesting he remembers what those specific flowers are called tho.

"This will probably involve many harrowing trials with a high chance of death" Apollo I think you jinxed yourself here buddy.

Kind of a follow up to the musician thing, but Apollo is so tuned in to people's body language. Like the whole paragraph where Apollo compares Meg to the mimosa plant is so interesting, bc he has known this girl for like, an hour at most, and he's already paying attention to the way she reacts in a conversation. Also he got hit by his own dodgeball of prophecy, making plant metaphors with Meg this early on.

Side note, I really wanna know what ambrosia nachos look like. Like, which part of that is made of ambrosia? All of it?

"He can dispatch some of you talented fodder- I mean heroes-" I'm not gonna lie, I think this is the worst thing Apollo says in all the books. Yikes man.

"Like billowing plumes from smoke grenades touched by King Midas." How do you come up with this stuff? What a wild description.

Another side note: Meg's earnest enthusiasm about Percy showing off his powers is so cute. Like, she's so excited by the thought of him being like Aquaman. She is the best written child in this whole franchise, honestly.

"My Adam's apple dropped into my chest like a billiard ball." I don't mean to keep focusing on these metaphors, but each one is more cursed than the last lmao.

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[pokemon-radical-red]

I hate it when I headcanon a character who’s canonically a girl as a trans man and make ships of him and a character who’s canonically a guy and I refer to it as a gay/mlm/guyxguy/whatever ship and someone gets mad. Like omg let trans people have FUNNNNN. Why are queer headcanons and genderbends cool until they’re saying that the character is trans???

“OMGGG you’re so misogynistic I can’t believe you would erase FEMALE representation!!!”

and like half of the characters in the franchise are women, and a total of… NONE of the characters are trans men. Also, my headcanon doesn’t change the source material. If my stuff upsets you, you can block me and go engage with the source or maybe every single other fanwork, since mine is the only trans man hc for this character that I’ve ever seen.

or when people are like “WTF??? this is so transphobic!!! how dare you imply that a character who looks like that could be a trans man?!?! do you think that trans men are women or something??? she uses she/her, and you’re misgendering her!”

No, I don’t think that being a trans man makes you a woman or vice versa. That’s why it’s a headcanon, and the headcanon is that this character is actually a trans man and not a woman at all! You’ll never guess what pronouns most trans men had to use at some point in their lives, and you really won’t like it when you find out about pre-(or no-)transition trans men… or trans men who are in the closet… or trans men who don’t know that they’re trans yet.

“But the character is a kid!!! Saying they’re trans is sexualizing them.”

I’ve seen this one from other queer people. Like did you miss when all of the homophobes said this about your identity, or do you think that bigotry is only bad when it’s directed at you?

“Why would you say ‘testosterone could fix her’??? Are you trying to call her a delusional woman?”

Why would your brain even go to that first? This literally has to be a bad faith reading, because there’s no way that someone could see what I said and get this unless they were specifically looking for something to be mad at me for.

(Note for anyone unaware: “Estrogen would’ve fixed him!” was a meme going around at the time I said this. I’m not sure if it’s still super big, but this was a joke to the effect of that.)

“So girls can’t be tomboys anymore? You just wanna trans everyone?”

This is like actual real life transphobic rhetoric. This isn’t even just shitting on my headcanon, but in fact, sending transphobic hate to a trans man. Thanks 👍. Maybe you should go send JK Rowling another message about how much you loved her essay instead of bothering me.

[dreamteamemojis]

.

[beef-brisket]

Adam couldn't believe any of this was true. It couldn't be. His angel was back, and caring for him, like all of those years ago in that God forsaken garden.

But, he hasn't done anything to earn his kindness. He surely had lost any right to an apology when he came here during the first extermination, so how could he even think of accepting Lucifer's after everything he's done? He attacked Lucifer's daugnter- terrified her. Terrorised his kingdom and his people.

There's no way he's still owed an apology.

With a shaking hand, he put a spoon of soup in his mouth. He didn't even deserve this.

Lucifer watched Adam. He looked like he was in so much pain, but he refused to let Lucifer heal him, saying something about it being his punishment.

Looking out one of the many large windows in his kitchen, Lucifer could see the Pride Ring ablaze. The raging fire just added to the heat. The screams of sinners echoed far and wide.

Something was going on. Something bad.

Adam was here, but the Pride Ring was still being patrolled. Sinners were still disappearing, some returned and some didn't.

That means Abaddon was out there. But Lucifer was staring at him- at Adam. He's so lost.

Lucifer: ...Adam?

The king looked saddly at Adam when the first man tensed and stopped all movement, like he was being hunted.

He wouldn't even loon at him when he spoke: Y-Yeah- Lucifer?

Lucifer: ...Is father still getting you to punish sinners? As Abaddon?

Adam felt himself start shaking at the mere mention of the demons name. It used to be an identity he was so proud of, something be embraced. But now, it only brought him fear.

How long is it going to be until Abaddon comes back and delivers his real punishment? How long is it going to be until his father is done with Adam and demands his head? Does he even love Adam anymore? Or was Abaddon the only part God loved?

Adam: I-I... I'm not... h-him- n-not anymore- I- failed...

Lucifer: You're not...? But... he's...

Adam: Real. A-Alive... b-better than me- I was holding him back... he's... s-seperate...

Lucifer: I don't understand. Did father... when?

Adam: ...When he dragged me down... I failed him... so he threw away the useless part... k-kept the part he needed... A-Abaddon- is his own... being. And I'm just... a broken slate. Trash. Nothing... you were right... h-he threw me away... I'm too... weak. Y-You and Lilith- left me for a reason... j-just like everyone else... I'm never good enough...

Lucifer rubbed his face. He was trying to understand Adam, but everything wasn't making sense. How could God separate Adam? There weren't two beings inside him. It was just Adam. So, what did God do, exactly?

Lucifer: What do you mean, God threw away the useless part?

Adam was so tense, he felt like something would break: M-Me! All he needed was my p-pain! M-My anger! M-My... strength... I'm nothing, Lucifer. Abaddon is his own being- his own person... it's just like Eve... they took something from me- and changed it! I'm just- hurt, now. I'm just... Adam. Every trait and part no one liked... I'm... t-the off cut that no one wants...

They sat in silence before another explosion went off in the distance, making Adam scream and quickly hide under the table.

Lucifer: Adam?! What are you doing-?

Crawling under the table as well, Lucifer tried to get close to Adam, but he covered his head and quickly backed away.

Adam: N-No! He'll come for me- my sins are punishable by death-! He'll kill me- Father wants me dead! Dead! Punished! Gutted! Skinned! I'm so sorry-! For everything! W-Why make me-?! Why m-make me- if a was f-flawed?! I'm meant to be perfect- but I'm not! I'm wrong! Broken! Trash!

Adam screamed when he felt arms wrap tightly around him. He could smell Lucifer's cologne, feel his warmth, but be felt so caged in his arms. He deserved to die- mainly by Lucifer's hands. He's the only one that deserved his blood.

But he was so scared.

He hated what he's become and what he's left with. He's failed everyone, even his father, and especially Lucifer. The king should kill him, use him as proof to his father that he can punish those deserving.

But he never felt any pain. Just those strong arms holding him in a warm, comforting embrace. He didn't understand. He couldn't. How could he still deserve kindness? After the horror he's inflicted? The pain he's caused?

Lucifer: I've got you, Adam... I've got you...

-

In the second circle of the Pride Ring, they had heard rumours of what was happening in Pride, but that's all they were. Rumours.

That was until a group of imps got caught in a devastating battle between the king and... something else. Long story short, the place had gone to shit. And no hellborn wants any part in it.

So, the last thing the employees of I.M.P expected was to see a large man lounging on one of their couches.

He looked demonic and incredibly threatening. He had a playful smile when everyone froze in the doorway, but Blitzø couldn't see any good intentions behind it. In fact, if it wasn't for the fear, everyone would have run away by now.

Abaddon: Don't look so scared~! If I wanted you dead, your bodies would have hot the floor already! I'm here as a paying customer, after all. So show me some fucking respect.

Tormentor of souls au

Darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Only he was no way comfortable or felt safe. He felt fear grip him like iron as he tried to make even a sliver sense of his situation. He could barely a muscle, if he had any muscle to pull. It felt like he had nothing to move, was this what happened to the souls he exorcised? 

Were they to end up here for eternity, slowly being drove insane with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company? Adam couldn’t even try to open his mouth to speak, well he did try, but the only words that would escape from him were from within his mind. In his mind he sighed, he was just so tired, he didn’t have any strength to fight, to argue that he shouldn’t be here. Yet what exactly was the point? He’d only tire himself further out. 

He had to admit it, he was stuck here, for all eternity. Much the same as a sinner. 

That was when he saw it a flicker of light. Not just any light, a pure white light. A light that was so familiar, one that brought him joy when it spoke to him in his booming voice.

His creator 

“GREETINGS MY SON. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE LAST SPOKE TO YOU AND FOR THAT I APOLOGIZE”

Adam didn’t care he was just so thankful to be in his creator’s presence.

“MY SON I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF HARDSHIP AND THAT IT DID NOT STOP EVEN WHEN YOU PERISHED.” 

He tried to not flinch at that. Thinking about his first life brought too many unpleasant memories.

“THAT IS WHY IT BRINGS ME PAIN TO ASK YOU OF THIS, BUT I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONCE MORE. I KNOW OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THESE PAST FEW CENTURIES, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NOT THE SOLUTION”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. His own creator believed that they, the murderers and rapists, deserved to be redeemed!?

“HELL IS MEANT TO BE A PUNISHMENT, ETERNAL TORMENT OF THE SINS LUCIFER CORRUPTED WITH HIS WAY OF FREE WILL. HOWEVER MANY OF THEM DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. TO THEM HELL IS MERELY A PLAYGROUND WHERE RULES NO LONGER MATTER. I HAVE SEEN TRUE MONSTROUS ACTS THE WICKED HAVE BROUGHT WITH THEM FROM LIFE. THEY CARRY IT MOST OUT ON THE TRUE CITIZENS OF HELL, THE ONES THAT HAD NO SAY IN BEING THERE OR NOT.”

The hell born, Adam thought taking in the Lord’s words

“I KNOW I AM NOT THEIR CREATOR, NOR DO THEY CALL ME FATHER, BUT I HAVE HEARD THEIR PLEAS FOR HELP TO BE SAVED FROM THE ACTS OF THE WICKED, OF ALL WICKED. UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE BORN DOWN THERE, BUT I CAN STOP THE SINNERS FROM HURTING THEM AND THAT IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP”

Adam had never put much thought into the hellborn. To him they were simply there and as long as they got in his way during the exterminations they weren’t a problem. There was the princess, but he didn’t really count her. He was curious however as to what the Lord wanted him to do.

“THE SINNERS NEED PUNISHMENT, AND THE HELL BORN NEED PROTECTION. YOU CAN BE THEIR PROTECTOR BY BECOMING THE PUNISHER.”

 With a simple snap of his creator’s fingers Adam felt something shift within him, in his very essence he changed. A warm feeling engulfed him whole and then he knew no more.

((Oh shit- I love everything about this! God needs to fuck off and let our boy rest!

Sorry this took me a hot second to get to- and I hope my reply does yours justice 😝))

Charlie is in full work mode and has been since the failed extermination ended. Since finding out Sir Pentious ended up in Heaven.

For months, she had been working hard. It was so hard that she somehow missed the latest gossip going around the Pride Ring.

Sinners ending up missing, only to resurface months later completely different. Scared. Traumatized.

Many didn't think much of it. This is Hell. There's always some crazy bastard out there doing shit.

But, it was when they became too scared to even function, too scared to ever be normal again, too scared that they would rather turn an angelic blade on themselves than to live with the possibility of going through whatever it is they've gone through.

Charlie was actually getting quite concerned. Especially when she heard Angel talking about it one night at Husks bar.

Angel: I fucking tell ya, kitty. People a shit scared. I've never seen the clubs so empty!

Husk shook his head: Must be the worst of the worst, huh?

Angel scoffed, downing his drink: Nah, babe. It's something else. It ain't no sinner.

Husk: Hellborn?

Angel: Those guys are freaky. Don't get me wrong, but their not THAT freaky. I had a client who said he was taken for three months. Three. That's fucking child's play. But the shit he said happened to him... fucking skinning, to pouring acid down his throat. Fuck mam, the sick ficker even dug around I'm his muscle and tendons!

Angel shook his head: There's something going on... even Val has lowered the workload.

Husk: Pft. Fuck. That's how you know it's serious.

Angel: Damn fucking right.

Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Angel's story. She was shocked but not surprised. She wasn't sure why this person has the sinners so scared, but sury it's nothing new.

She probably should make sure Al isn't behind this. She's only heard a few tales of his exploits so she wouldn't put it past him.

-

Alastor: Hm. So you've heard the rumors, too. While I'm flattered, I don't appreciate being confronted in such a way.

Vaggie: Just- fucking answer her, Alastor.

Alastor sighed, leaning on his cane: No, it's not me. I've been too busy here! And my kills stay dead when I'm finishing them~.

Charlie wasn't sure if she liked that answer, but it was good enough.

She apologized to Alastor, ams watched him leave.

Vaggie: ...I don't know, Charlie.

Charlie: I don't know either...

Vaggie: I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, you have more important things to deal with here, hun. You shouldn't get mixed up in sinner issues.

Charlie sighed: I know. I just... surely, it's a coincidence that this starts after the failed extermination... that was my fault. Simmered died because of me- I put my friends in danger! I feel like I owe it to everyone to at least try and solve it.

Vaggie smiled and pulled her girlfriend onto a soft hug.

Vaggie: I know you feel like that, hun. But you don't owe anyone anything... besides, if it's that bad, you could just ask Lucifer. He said he was looking for something to do.

Charlie: Hm... that's... a good idea, actually! I'll get dad on the case!

-

Lucifer: Me on the what now? Charlie, why should I care about whatever is going on with those sinners? Their... you know... sinners.

Charlie: Dad, please? Our guests are sinners. We need them to be safe. So please. Look into this for me? Even just a little bit?

Lucifer sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But, seeing the hopeful, pleading look on his daughters face, eventually changed his mind.

Charlie: Oh- thank you, dad, thank you!

Lucifer smiled as Charlie pulled into a hug. But when she felt and heard his back crack, she slowly put him down.

Charlie: S-Sorry dad!

Lucifer laughed through the pain: It's okay, Charlie - nothing I can't handle! I-I better start hunting a... whatever the fuck this is!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

among the boundless billions zaniness like laugh track as it definitely has that moment of expressing "rolling my eyes as The Left makes a kerfuffle of Acting like they have a stance as a veneer over the true belief that [xyz] is cool & chill actually" like what, approximate 0.000% chance wendy isn't, as usual, given the Objective Stance of "yeah yeah ohh we are cancelling involved parties talking about how we Don't watch this But. we all love this damn epic movie & already have it memorized so shut the fuck up, kids today" like. don't wanna really delve into how much billions thinks taylor or anyone is "really" trans / nonbinary like not too much benefit of the doubt in this material including what does provide info abt that specifically

& the general like [head in hands. what do you think any of this could possibly be about (you're the one that made your show at all about Power)] of "yes, it's bad/wrong to be someone that someone has done something to / victim of something" like that to be anti misogyny All Women Must Be Epic Winners b/c there's something to be proved: that they don't Deserve to be victims (of misogyny), not taken as a Given. while when we see some epic winner men stepping on other men (who need not all be guaranteed Winners so as to say misogyny is wrong), that's often Good, well beyond any assumption that various forms of basic disrespect / violation / patterns of emergent/entrenched power difference as Bad (for being things done to people, not for there being people they're being done to), & generally billions has to take an extra step when ppl get shitted on & tell us the Specific Cases when it was undeserved actually & someone was being mean to a specific person who didn't deserve that. & the specific cases when hey guess it wasn't that bad(tm) or when hey It's Okay that you're someone something was done to, in this case. & tell us what we were supposed to know all along like when someone who something was being done to (wrong Of Them, whether b/c they inherently deserve it no matter what, &/or b/c they failed to be someone who could make it Impossible to do anything to them, which, how do you do that besides being The Authority / Superior yourself, exactly? nonrhetorically? what if the in group vs out group / fascism / authoritarianism protected Me?) was actually being treated Too Well b/c ah well the abuse meant you were getting any attention, maybe it meant you were claimed as any superior's property, maybe it meant you weren't Already disposed of, as all Losers were in the end, You're Welcome.

obviously referring to winston where it's spelled out all the abuse towards him was deserved, & More than he deserved in the case of rian having more access & taking advantage of that, all for billions' enjoying its own sendoff there of, again, maximizing violation & violence short of [real violence is physical & leaves bruises / draws blood / Literally kills] which would be distasteful in general But doesn't it make wags look like the winner & winston the loser is that the former's completely unrelated completely impersonal ego blow gets way amplified taken out on winston, the most vulnerable recurring character when spyros as [first & ultimate Everyone Hates Him role] is more entrenched in there & billions still magnanimously pities tuk, as it does winston too, just not quite as much. again that like completely surface level realized power fantasy of forcing the mirror up to the Inferior so they're like nooo my inferiorityyyy & in doing so like, the projection in that lmao, we get it re: the valuing of & need(tm) for such Power Tripping & Reaffirming My Superiority & My Ego Restored; Everyone Claps like good god. & then for all ben & tuk are the slightly softer Two Too Nice Boys duo to the rian & winston quant duo, also like too nice i guess but not as much, ben is in charge of tuk but Any instance of rian being in charge of winston outstrips them in that "yay interpersonal abuse" dynamic, like then in the end billions may be like "yeah it's possible to be mean to them unlike how being mean to winston is actually Nice b/c he deserves everything he gets, we only vicariously enjoy it vs Feeling Bad for tuk & ben sometimes (still magnanimously & it's Not That Bad / just goofin)" like ben & tuk still Fail by not being people it's impossible to do anything to. & not Exceptions who anyone is really being Too Mean to. like if they were women, in which case, no problem surely with a "positive" kind of victim blaming where there is something Inherent that Will be victimized so hey how about to cancel that out there's this special Paternal Protection you Need always, Or Else? :) but instead they are men who are asian & is ben gay & w/tuk & winston nobody mentions glasses or fatness but billions doesn't really do much or very in depth textual mentioning of Anything, even w/nonzero mention that there may be gender & race in this world. a gay man, once. no disability. we just Know who are the inferiors who deserve it when they're treated inferiorly, or if they don't, they start deserving it when they fail to stop/avoid it, but if you start mentioning the factors behind who we all totally agree is inferior like whoa nobody was Saying any of that? being the real agent of oppression on the basis of the factors only You spelled out, much? nonbinary? i never say anything about the Gender Binary when i'm subscribing to it, sounds like You've created & enforced it. obfuscation & deflection onto [so Just Normal nobody has to label, explain, or argue it] couldn't serve a purpose & protect the existing power differences as they are. maybe You're the problem? perhaps you brought it upon yourself & now you're causing too much trouble standing up for yourself while everyone else's criticism is laser focused on you as the prior & continuing negative actions done to you are taken as a given / unquestioned / covertly protected to overtly encouraged?

anyway so wild if the Completely Normal(tm) Victim Blaming is uncritically recreated & oft embraced for "if you're watching this & don't wish you were axe / find him appealing" [billions as a sequence of vicarious power trips] purposes in this series....but a bit wild considering like this is your multiseason show that wasn't just purporting to be those power trips for [enough demographic & apparently specific personal tastes overlap w/creators] & was at all purporting to question the matters of power at play in the material, or yknow, at least to not be completely superficial material while said material is textually & thematically all about power difference being leveraged, how, the consequences, & so on. thus i will have to intermittently talk about it forever like this like lord unbelievable. & the funny little & sometimes less funny less little characters it has trapped in there so that those of us who were never meant to be in the audience can be cursed with this knowledge. like i have some feedback. "imagine not victim blaming" & "imagine adjusting your perspective can go beyond superficial layers added to politely defer to some other ppl while they're present but really like cmon do they deserve that. am i not just saying what we're allll thinking"

[tulparty]

I get really frustrated with how things just pop up in tags even if you don't tag it, i just wanna blab about things sometimes

that being said, think the fact that the two most popular ships for Mouthwashing is Jimcurly and Curlya is just fucking hilarious to be honest because they're just like. Opposite ships to me. Cockroach and his beautiful Golden Retriever vs Cat and Dog synergy