#to replace the old coke

[strange-anni]

What happened to Nancy Wheeler on Wills 8th birthday?

Long story short I do believe that the events of S3 namely Mayor Larrys Fun Fair/The Mind Flayer/ The Battle at Starcourt Mall could all give us some clues as to what really happened when Will got 8 years old in 1979.

Read this post if you want to know more. If you don't you may not understand what I'm talking about in here.

This time I mostly want to talk about Nancy Wheeler and what I believe could have happened to her on the 22nd of March 1979.

The Hawkins High Marching Band was at Mayor Larrys Fun Fair in 1985. This likely means that wherever Wills birthday party took place in 1979, the band was there too. Probably not directly because of him but they were at the same place at the same time.

Since the Marching band was there, Robin was most likely too as well as Vickie.

But

In S1 Steve also assumes Nancy took part in band practices. She denies it though but I don't fully believe her. I think Steve is right that she was in band at one point in her life and therefore was also present when Will had his birthday party. I'll get into why later.

That doesn't bode well considering that it's likely something horrible happened at the same day. Something Will only has vague memories about. El distinctly remembers killing a bunch of kids in the lab in S4. Even though it turned out that she didn't do it and it was 001 who did it, I do think there is a bit of truth to it as these memories are most likely altered memories of Will.

So a bunch of children died back then and it's the year 1979 we are talking about. Nancy, Jonathan, Robin and Vickie would have only been about 12 years old at the time and Steve about 13 years.

Kids.

This is what Robin had to say when she and Steve were drugged and in the elevator with Erica and Dustin. Ominous to say the least.

But back to Nancy

I think she got shot in the chest.

Her sweater is white and it's pure fuel but it's not coming off. The fuel blood just won't come off.

And it's Larry who gave it his best shot at the Fun Fair. Larry who shares the same name with Lonnie. Both are short versions of Lawrence.

Nancy like many others got killed on that day but something else also happened. Will got a box with 120 crayons and drew a big space ship, a Rainbowship. Joyce told us it's the only thing Will wanted to do. He didn't care for his new Star Wars toys and only wanted to draw. If that Rainbowship is so important, it's for a reason I think. It's purpose is to bring a lot of people into space/the UD to save them and then bring them back to earth so they can live again.

Karen is right I think. Nancy did get swapped in the hospital. She died there and then seemingly came back to life but it's not really the same Nancy. She looks like her and mostly acts like her but it's not her.

It's the Nancy that got transported back from Space/the UD with the Rainbowship after she died in the hospital. She was swapped.

She's what an eight year old Will believed her to be like. His best version/interpretation of her along with some deliberate alterations. If being in band was what killed her on that day, she can no longer be in band. So that aspect of her life got erased. It's why I don't believe her when she said she wasn't in band. She can't remember ever being there and this version truly wasn't but the old one was.

The new car which looks just like the old car but isn't the old car. A metaphor for many things in this show

[dawnthefluffyduck]

New game interest unlocked

(crow in bottom right belongs to @patchwork-crow-writes)

[zyafics]

ANGRY GOD | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader

Summary — Rafe always struggled with being the only person in his head. When he meets you on the balcony of Tannyhill, everything changes. As sweet and kind as you appear to be, you turn out to be a reflection of Rafe and his dark thoughts. A burnt soul. A perfect companion. But as much as he wants you, as much as you deserve each other, something stands in the way: your relationship with JJ.

Content — angst, suggestive themes, cheating (not on each other), minor blood kink, rafe does coke, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic dynamic, obsessive and psychopathic behavior, and subtle dubcon.

Word Count — 3.9K

lıllılı Deja Vu and She's Mine Pt. 1 by J Cole

Dedication — to @cybersunnie who read it first and gave me lovely feedback, ily my southeast asian bestie <3

Rafe looks for you everywhere.

Ever since that fateful night, he had searched every room and crowd for a glimpse of your face. Most times, he doesn't find what he's looking for, and a lump of frustration curls up his throat. A wasted effort, he tells himself, to look for someone who isn't his, but he does it anyway.

He's never been good at letting go of things that belonged to him.

Tonight's bonfire is on the beach. The firepit is surrounded by keggers lined neatly along the edges, and the salty tang of driftwood smoke hangs in the air. Flickering embers roared to the sky, while the drunken crowd moved in scattered clusters, their laughter coalescing with the music as they stumble over their steps. Rafe can't help but scoff at the very sight.

He had snorted a couple of lines before his arrival. Nothing calms him down quicker than strips of white powder that substitute for dopamine, but it still isn't quite the replacement he's looking for. It may make him feel lighter, unable to feel the depth of his soul sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean floor, but it's ineffective. Riffled with the knowledge that there's something better for him out in the world, something that mirrors the use of a drug, something that can save him.

You.

Rafe sips on the beer he's been nursing for the past half-hour—coke and liquor are a hangover's bitch—and his eyes survey the mass of people in futile efforts. Everyone has arrived, including those Pogue friends of yours, but there are still no traces of you. Once again, Rafe believes that you've decided to forgo the invite to forget him.

Until he finds you off in the distance.

In the corner of the world, sitting on the shore and counting waves, with your legs drawn to your chest and your arms draped across your knees. Parties have always been a troublesome endeavor for you, rekindling old memories you want nothing more than to forget, but you always find yourself succumbing to one. It's a nasty habit you're unable to break.

You had slipped away—from the masses, from your friends, from JJ—for some peace on the edge of the earth. No one seems to have noticed your missing presence. At least, that's what you believe.

Something settles at your side, darkening your solace with its thick presence, and you turn to discover Rafe. He sinks into the empty space beside you, cold brew in hand, and refuses to meet your gaze. Your heartbeat skips, alarm bells activating and cautioning you to leave, but you choose to stay.

Silence engulfs the air and despite the heavy bass reverberating through the air and the flurries of chatters from Kooks and Pogues alike, none of that seems to matter. As always, with Rafe, it feels like you two are the only people remaining on Earth, spinning on its axis, waiting.

It isn't like this with anyone else.

"You've been ignoring me," Rafe announces flatly. His stare set to the horizon of the coastline, watching waves flatten into the salt-soaked sand inches away from his feet.

"I haven't," you defend, a little too quickly, wincing at the projection of your voice. "We just haven't been going to the same places."

He scoffs dryly, "Because you've been ignoring me."

You shake your head softly, but Rafe doesn't acknowledge the gesture. You doubt he cares. It mirrors you in that aspect, knowing exactly how his mind behaves—believing his version of events to be the only correct reality. Nothing you do, or say, will change it.

It's hard to talk to someone who's stubborn.

It's worse when the person knows you too well.

Because in some ways, he's right. Several invitations to various functions have been sent, but you've opted out of attending any of them. Partly because you don't want to be in that environment. Mostly because you're afraid of facing Rafe. You had assumed it'd be an easy facade to maintain—just as the rest of your friends suspected you simply weren't into parties—but Rafe sees directly through you, like glass.

He resists the urge to look at you. Fearing if he does, he'll never stop. It isn't enough for him to be within your proximity, he wants to have you, and it's a debilitating feeling to know he can't. Blood coats his senses, and he realizes he bite his tongue too hard.

Yet, he feels the heat of your stare on his profile. Your eyes sweep over every feature, every twitch of muscle as if you're committing to memory the days you haven't seen him. Pride finds him in that regard—to know he consumes your thoughts as much as you consumed him.

He begs to be wanted.

He wants you to beg for him.

"Your bruises are healing nicely," you say softly, admiring the faded damning colors of his assault to the healing yellows that smother his skin. "That's good."

His resolve breaks and Rafe turns. The corner of his lips lifts. "You would care, wouldn't you?"

You blink in surprise, but Rafe takes it as some protest of resilience. You won't admit it, as much as you want him, as much as you need him, and the anguish seeps into his bones. unable to detangle itself from skin. "Of course I do," you stutter a reply, "I patched you up."

"But it isn't the only reason," he presses, "Is it?"

His eyes meet yours, and it rivals the first look he's ever given you. Full of scorn and disdain, Rafe had once wanted nothing more than you to be out of his sight. Now, he can't have enough of it.

It evokes honesty in you. "It isn't."

Rafe grins, taking any small victory as a celebration.

You can't take it, deciding to break contact to reach into the pockets of your shorts. You fish out the lighter and a small box of cigarettes before torching the end of the stick and inhaling a sharp breath. Nicotine slithers into your system, calming your raging nerves.

Rafe watches with amusement. He had always hated a woman who smokes. It was unorthodox, dirty, and not someone he sees himself with. But when he watches the way the puff of smoke exits your lips, the calamity smoothening your features, he's never wanted to kiss you more.

“You smoke?” Rafe asks as you lower the cigarette to your side. The butt of the blunt brushes against the grains of sand.

“Yeah.” You say timidly. “It’s a bad habit I can’t break.”

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Didn't take you as a smoker," Rafe confesses, but something in his statement reeks of judgment. As much as you hate the need to be validated by others, something about Rafe leaves you desiring acceptance.

You scramble to form an excuse. “I only do it when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

You don't respond, but you're sure the split-second expression on your face revealed it all. Pressing your lips together, you rip your gaze from Rafe to look back to the ocean currents, raging and coursing through the tides as if a storm is brewing. You hoped this respite would dissolve the tension in the air, but it doesn't.

Thick and hot, you can't decide if it's the heat of the firepit against your backside or the idea of Rafe's close—too close—proximity to you. Your truth. The persona you've carefully crafted on the verge of collapsing.

Rafe finally understands why you don't go to parties. Even if you don't explicitly state it; it's him. The way he can read you, understand you, and make you feel. A parallel of himself in you that feels like a reflection against a pond. It scares you. It terrifies him. Yet he can't get enough of it.

You clear your throat, taking another puff of your cigarette, before returning your gaze back to him. "You left your own party again."

Is this what you want to talk about? Rafe would rather push past the small talk, but he entertains it nonetheless. At least it's something to keep you close. "It's not my party."

"Right." You hum, inhaling a nicotine-saturated breath that hisses and chars the end of the blunt. "But you left it all the same. Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

"I could ask the same about you."

"I asked you first."

"Is that how you want to play it?"

Rafe cocks his head in challenge, armed with the mockery and condescension of his dripping tone. But it's not aimed at you, but rather for you. A provocation that asks: one of us is lying here, who will it be?

"You're baiting me," you announce, digging the burnt end of the cigarette into the sand to extinguish it. "It's not going to work."

Rather than take offense from your blatant callout, he scoffs out a smirk. His perfect teeth glistened underneath the moonlight, which can almost be read as fangs.

"Smart girl too," he muses, more to himself than you, before taking a swing of his beer. Directing his line of vision towards the darkened horizon, you watch him swallow with a bob of his Adam's apple. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" You repeat. "Why would you be looking for me?"

"Don't act dumb, princess. It's not cute."

Silence stretches among you, and the only soothing sound of this moment is the cascades of water meeting sand. Your heart doubles its tempo, reconciling with Rafe's words before he pierces the quietude with another confession. "They don't care."

This time, you don't play dumb. You know exactly what he's referring to. Rafe made a bold accusation that his friends don't care about him, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is right.

From what you heard from your own group, no one is friends with Rafe. Not really. All they want is to get out of his way, to avoid being the receiving end of his wrath. Rapport is the closest method towards that settlement. A falsehood for security. He had come to the bitter realization on his own; that no one is real with him except you.

You don't take the time to be frivolous and reassure him with meaningless consolation. You cut straight to the chase.

"Then why come?" You ask, not knowing if he'll respond. But what you don't know is Rafe would answer almost anything if it came from you. "Why attend something when none of these people care about you?"

The instantaneous reply is a howling wind from the ocean, breezing over your skin and raising goosebumps on your arms. But you remain still. Unsure if Rafe will answer, you wait until he admits, "It's better than being alone."

All the air leaves your lungs.

Your heart pumps like it's about to burst.

Because Rafe confirms what you’re thinking.

And you feel the same way.

You're certain you're in an exact predicament but you don't have the courage to voice it. The Pogues only tolerate you because you're in this relationship with JJ, but you have a sinking feeling that it's just the novelty. Something short and fleeting. Something false.

You entered it under the assumption that JJ understood you—a burnt soul recognizing a companion. But that's proven to be completely untrue. JJ may have faced hardships, but his entire network is built on camaraderie. You never had that. Neither did Rafe.

Maybe that's why you gravitate towards him.

Maybe that's why you're afraid.

"Why are you here?" Rafe prompts, turning the spotlight back onto you.

You lick your lips, suddenly dry. "The Pogues invited—"

"No, don't give me that bullshit," he snaps, but his tone lacks the bite. All it demands is truth. "I mean, why did you come this time? You've been avoiding me for a reason."

You scoff. "You know."

A cruel smirk carves the corner of his mouth, framed with an innocent dimple. "I want to hear you say it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're a liar, princess. Just like all of them."

Fire ignites in your chest by his accusation, reminding you closely of that night at Tannyhill, and your hands squeeze into tight fists. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, and licking the residual nicotine sticking to your gums, give you a minor boost of confidence. "I thought if I didn't, they'd stop inviting me."

You exhale a blow of air, similar to your cigarette, but a heavy weight lifts off your chest. You don't turn to meet Rafe's eyes, but you feel the heat of his stare.

Rafe grins, self-satisfaction ripples through his features in unparalleled triumph. "Just like me."

"Don't be a dick," you declare.

"I'm not trying to." He says. "It's just ironic."

"Ironic how?"

He takes a second to answer, lingering on the moment by sipping on the rim of his beer, letting a slow, singular drop fall from the corner of his mouth. "Because every party I've seen you at, you're always escaping it."

You shrink under this observation, nails buried into the sand to find grounding. "I needed a break."

"All the time?" He taunts.

You say absolutely nothing. And Rafe chuckles dryly. "The girl who always leaves the party. The boy who needs it. We'll make a good couple."

You lift your head. "Is that your criteria for a relationship?"

"No. But I'll take any excuse to have you."

Your breath stutters in your throat. From your previous interaction with Rafe, you concluded that he cuts through the drivel. But it's different this time around. Now, it riffled with the knowledge of knowing you, of wanting you.

Rafe always had a single-minded ambition, the type to chase after his goal until he captured it within the palm of his hand. That's you to him.

Morals be damned. As long as he has you.

To be wanted like that terrifies you. With your heart palpitating in your chest, you feel the urge to rebuild your walls. To add that familiar and safe space between you and him. "Rafe..." You trail off in warning.

Instantaneously, as if he can read you, he knows why.

Frowning, Rafe says, "Hm. Forget you're with Maybank."

You don't think that's entirely true.

"I should get back," to him, but that part remains unspoken.

Rising from your seat, you dust off the sheen coat of sand under your thighs before motioning to leave. But Rafe snatches your wrist. His grip is firm but loose enough for you to slip out, only begging you not to.

You look down, however Rafe refuses to meet your gaze. In fact, he avoids it, opting for the dark coastline that rivals the turbulent feeling in his chest. "Why are you with him?" He whispers against the wind, his tone seeping with vulnerability. "Why are you with him when you can be with me?"

You don't know how to answer that. "He was nice to me."

"I can be nice to you."

You shake your head. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" Rafe asks wretchedly, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze and you read how broken he truly is. Your chest tightens. His icy blue eyes warmed with desperation, and his grip around your wrist tightens, like a beggar seeking approval.

For a moment, you considered lying. It's the easiest way out. But there's no one here but the two of you. No one to perform to. No one but an audience who knows you soul-deep. How do you lie out of this one?

"I think you need me," you whisper. "I don't know how to be needed like that."

If you were anyone else, he'd feel insulted. To insulate he needs someone—anyone—to function implies he's weak. That he's dependent on another. But Rafe hasn't felt this sense of gratification in years. A kinship that emerges from a soul recognizing a burnt soul. He can't lose that.

"Neither do I," he answers, almost pleading. "Let's try it out."

"Try what?"

"Us." He urges. "You and me."

You shouldn't, but you can't help but consider the proposal. It's awful, especially knowing you're in a committed relationship—as committed as you can be—and you try to build excuses and logic on why this couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. But all of them fell flat.

"You hate me."

"I didn't know you."

"You called me a bitch."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

"You called me a liar," you accuse, unmasking the sting from the label.

"You are," Rafe insists without missing a beat. "But I'll take it."

You chew on your bottom lip, gnawing on the raw, broken skin until you taste iron. "I don't know," you admit, voice low, chest heavy. "I don't know if I can save you, Rafe."

This time, he doesn't have a response. This time, he's rendered speechless. It's a confessional—what he truly desires from you is redemption. To possess a mirror that resolves him of his own sins.

His fingers loosen around your wrist.

"I have to go," you say softly, taking a step towards the exit.

But it isn't quick enough.

Rafe grabs you again and gives you one last tug, forcing you to land on his lap. Before you can move, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you close, forehead pressed against his, chest meeting the other.

You feel the rapid thumping of his own heartbeats.

"One taste," Rafe murmurs, his eyes on yours and they're pitch-black, all dissolved of his color. "Just one taste and I'll let you go."

"One?" You ask meekly, your heart threatening to spill.

"One." He confirms, reeking of the same desperation he's always been ashamed of revealing. But he doesn't care anymore. "And you can go back to Maybank and do whatever the fuck you want."

You search his face, trying to read him, but nothing but pure primal instinct coats his rugged features. He wants you—in a way that's so animalistic, he's actively holding himself back from taking more. A sick satisfaction curves up your throat at being desired by such capacity.

"Okay."

Rafe doesn't give you a moment to retract your consent before he drags your mouth down to his, silencing every pounding thought with a kiss.

Instinctively, you steel your spine from the assault before slowly unwinding. From all the venom and vile words spilled from Rafe's tongue, his mouth is surprisingly soft and tender. His kiss is rich with desire, gripped with desperation, and it pours all his silent confessions into one. Your heart has never raced so frantically but has never been this calm.

You want this.

Logic and reason chip away when you feel how warm Rafe is. How he laps over the broken piece of your bottom lip like worship, how he craves you with the depravity of a man receiving his last meal, licking you clean until you're nothing but bones.

It's intoxicating. Where has Rafe been all your life? Why haven't you done this sooner? Your mind can't find a proper answer until a slow, nauseating reminder strikes your drunken and lustful state. It's because you're taken. It answers. You're committed to someone who isn't him.

Pulling away, you breathe, "Rafe—"

"Not enough," he declares roughly, dragging your back and stealing another kiss. It's as if it's the only air he's willing to take. He demands it—it's his.

And yet, for all your stream of moral consciousness, there's little resistance.

You allow him to take you. Devour you. To suck on your bottom lip until a metallic tang is shared between you, and to feel the warm liquid ooze onto your tongue like sacred waters. He tastes so good, and Rafe's hands fall from your arm to your waist, tugging you along until you're centered on his lap. With an automatic roll of your hips, he groans, and you feel the growing erection form in his jeans demonstrating his obsession with you.

It's just one. But one kiss turns into two and three, and suddenly you can't stop. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment with Rafe.

Pulling back a second time, your murmur against his swollen lips. "This is a bad idea."

"This is the best goddamn idea I've ever had," he breathes into your mouth, his hand straying to cup a handful of your ass under your shorts. "You taste better than I imagined."

"What do I taste like?"

"Mine," Rafe answers breathily, before cupping the back of your neck once again and aligning your mouth to his.

Addiction. Rafe is certain that's what this is. The way you rock against him, the way your body molds into his—like a perfect puzzle finding its match—he can't help but believe in fate. It infuriates him that it took him this long.

But even in a perfect moment, the illusion quickly shatters by a grating voice from the distance. Rafe wants nothing more than to ignore its bugging nuisance, but you can't seem to.

Because it's your boyfriend.

You rip away from Rafe to discover JJ's silhouette approaching the shore, searching for you. Panic zigzags through your chest and you swiftly leave Rafe's lap, brushing away any criminalizing evidence of your infidelity.

"That's one. We're done."

When JJ arrives, Rafe doesn't move. He doesn't even make a gesture to conceal the situation as JJ's eyes dart between the two of you, trying to piece together what you were doing with the Kook in the first place.

But no one reveals a thing. Not even you. You quickly apologize for leaving the party and fumble a flimsy excuse for Rafe's presence. And JJ's birdbrain accepts it, causing Rafe to scoff at the fool you're with.

When he takes your hand, leading you back to the party, you quickly accept—dragging yourself into the same space you beg to break from. And doing nothing but leaving Rafe behind.

He could leave now. After all, he came out to the shores searching for you. But there's a calamity that comes from being out here. Seeing the waters, watching the crashing of the waves. It allows him to truly think—away from the noises, away from the people, away from all the meaningless distractions.

Rafe swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the buzzing sensation left behind from your kiss, and collects a single droplet of blood. It must've spilled from you, or his bitten tongue, he doesn't know for sure. All he does is slip it right back into his mouth.

And for the first time throughout this entire night, Rafe grins. A real one. A devious one. Because he's coming to a familiar conclusion.

You parade among the people who don't give a damn about you, who don't know a single truth, and pretend you fit in their world. But you don't. You're a liar.

But as Rafe remembers the taste of your hot lips on his, the way your body fits in with his, the taste of your blood on his tongue—he realizes, so is he.

Because there's no way that is the last time he'll kiss you. That he has you. No. He had one taste and it wasn't enough.

Rafe is coming back for more.

Whether you like it or not.

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03 / End

[tpwk-formula1]

Hii, first I just have to say how much I adore your request-format! It makes the whole process so fun, and I can’t wait to read more of your writing😚❤️❤️❤️

For the order, I’m really craving a gluten-free pizza, served by Franco, with some red sauce. But I’d like it kind of both ways, so red sauce from him and red sauce from reader, if you know what I mean. Like they’re fighting for dominance, switch x switch ❤️ and are kinda mean to each other. But for vibe, I’d love sort of a teasing, intense tone, where Franco’s just really teasing, charming and cocky. So rough but not too onesided, you know!❤️

Then for toppings I’d love pepperoni, tomatoes, gorgonzola and gouda, but again sort of evenly between them. I’d love for them both to be kinda mean. ❤️

To drink I’m really craving a diet coke, diet pepsi, red bull, white claw and an Old Fashion to finish it off. (Both crying)

Also dessert would be amazing, thank you!!❤️❤️❤️

For an extra add-on, if that’s okay (otherwise just ignore this part❤️), I’d love it if he spoke some spanish to reader, not really dirty talk but some hot pet names and teasing sentences that reader doesn’t understand. Translate is fine, so don’t worry abt it having to be perfect, but if you’re not comfortable just ignore this!❤️

Thank you, I’m really looking forward to reading your fics!!❤️❤️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free rivals red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” diet coke recording kink diet pepsi biting redbull hickeys white claw crying old fashion drunk sex dessert yes served by Franco Colapinto

Franco x rival! reader

TW - switch x switch, edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, rough, begging, unprotected sex, creampies, GOOGLE TRANSLATED SPANISH - MDNI 18+

WC - TBD

Y/N POV

"Do you guys ever get along?" I hear one of the drivers on the grid ask making Ollie groan and answer before Franco or I can answer.

"They were finding a way to fight each other even when she was promoted to F1," Ollie says making me laugh slightly.

"He just knows how to get under my skin," I saw while shrugging my shoulders not seeing how this was any of their business.

"You mean to tell me when she would be gone and we couldn't find her she was terrorizing him?" George asks. I just smile and nod my head proudly.

When I joined Mercedes at the beginning of the season and became teammates with George I still would pop my head into the F2 paddock to say hi to some of my old teammates while also finding ways to piss the Argentinian off. But when he joined mid season replacing Logan we where finally racing together again which meant messing with one another became so much easier.

As the night out progressed and the drinks kept coming Franco and I found ourselves shoved in a dark corner together.

"God you smell like tequila," I state when he gets close trying to pull me in for a kiss. I just push at his chest pulling a fake disgusted look which only had him roughly grabbing my jaw and placing a kiss on my lips.

"Been thinking about that all night," Franco admits making me pull a disgusted look at him.

"That's prety fucking domestic," I state while pulling him in closer by shirt before I release my grip on his shirt and move my hand to his neck where I gave it a good squeeze while I plant my lips back on his.

"You're a fucking whore," I whisper against his lips when he whimpers at my tight grip.

"Vas a ser la puta en un momento," Franco whispers back against my lips making me pull back slightly giving him a raised brow. He knew I didn't understand much Spanish which made moments like this that much more intense.

"Let's get out of here," Franco says while turning away and walking towards the exit which had me following a few minutes after not trying to look like I was going home with him. I knew damn well the second they realized the 2 of us missing they would put 2 and 2 together rather quickly and Ollie was never shy to expose what we really did when we where alone.

When I finally pull up to Franco's hotel I waste no time in getting up to his room and knocking on the door.

When he opens the door he instantly pulls me into his room and closes the door before he roughly shoves me against it pulling out a loud whimper.

I feel Franco move his hand to my neck choking me in the same manner I had done to him when we where in the club. I whimper when I feel his grip tighten on my neck but quick compose myself and push against his hand so I can move away from the wall where I quick use my strength to push him against the wall and pull him back for a kiss.

Franco still had his hand around my neck but due to his shock of the position change made his grip loosen slightly. But it take Franco little to no time to gather himself and move his hand from my throat to my hair where he pulls me near the bed and push me on the ground so I was on my knees with my back resting against the foot of the bed to trap me in the position.

Franco wastes no time in pulling his pants and briefs off and pushing my head near his hard length. I open my mouth and let Franco start face cum me.

"joder siempre tómalo tan bien," Franco grunts out as he pushes my head against the mattress and uses it to his advantage. With my head not being able to move anymore he pushed his length all the way down my throat making me gag and almost instantly start tearing up.

"Fuck, you're a pathetic slut," Franco grunts when he sees the tears start rolling down my cheek. When he starts fucking into my face and hitting my gag reflex each time he pushes in I start fighting back slightly. I'm pushing at his thighs trying to slow down a bit which only has him going harder.

"Jodida tómalo," Franco grunts out while still fucking my mouth.

Franco pushes my head all the way down his cock making sure I take the fuck length leaving me to gag and tear up around his cock fighting to gain some air. When he finally released my head I pull off his cock and start coughing and gasping for air trying to gather myself before I stand up and push Franco on the bed. I quickly strip out of all my clothes while Franco pulls his shirt off and climb into bed to join him.

When I get into the bed I start teasing Franco's cock with my tongue making him hiss at the stimulation to his sensitive cock. I knew after face fucking me he wouldn't last long but I didn't care, I wasn't planning to let him cum, just wanted him begging under me.

"Fuck, hermosa," Franco hisses when I start pulling his cock into my mouth while still teasing his sensitive tip with my tongue.

While still swirling my tongue around the tip of Franco's cock I move a free hand down to his balls and start squeezing them making Frnaco moan rather loudly.

"Fuck, m'not gonna last long," Franco whines out making me speed up my actions on his balls and start bobbing my head bringing him close to the edge. I could tell Franco was about to fall over the edge which had me instantly moving away from his cock to watch him start bucking his hip and whining at the loss of contact.

"Fuck, no please! I was so close, I fucking need it! Please Hermosa hazme venir," Franco whines.

"Are you always this fucking loud? Begging to cum already? Pathetic little thing," I tell him while slowly stroking his length. I loved watching the way Franco gets exceptionally more desperate and needy when he was this close to cumming.

As I was leaning down to continue my teasing Franco roughly grips into my hair and pulling me up so he can plant a kiss on my lips before flipping us over so he was now the one on top.

I feel Franco instantly push his full length into my tight pussy giving me no time to adjust before he was roughly fucking into my pussy making me cry out in a loud moan.

"Now, who's the loud one?" Franco questions back with a smirk while he continues to fuck into my pussy making me loudly moan at the pleasure coursing through me.

"Faster please," I beg which has Franco instantly fucking into my pussy at a faster pace.

"Fuck, the way you clench around me is gonna make me cum," Franco grunts out making me clench around him around.

"More, please," I beg again needing more feeling my orgasm starting to build up.

Franco speeds up into a brutal pace becoming too much almost instantly.

"Fuck Franco," I cry while cumming all over his cock. Franco continues to fuck me through my orgasm at the brutal pace making me start crying in overstimulation while begging him to slow down.

"Franco can't take it. Slow down please!"

��Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Franco teases back only going at a faster pace.

I knew I was a crying mess under him again but I didn't care when I felt my orgasm starting to build deep within my pussy once again.

"Fuck, gonna cum for me again?" Franco states when he can feel my pussy throbbing around his cock in anticipation for another orgasm.

"Fuck, Franco," I cry out as I start cumming all over his cock once again. Franco helps me ride my orgasm out finally slowing his pace down to let me catch my breath. Once I've settled down I flip Franco and I over once again climbing off his dick and getting back on my knees so I can pull him into my mouth again.

"I taste amazing on your cock," I say once I've collected some of my slick. I lean up and spit directly into Franco's mouth knowing he would only be able to taste my spit, but not caring because I loved seeing him swallow like a whore.

"Fuck, Hermose, please," Franco begs which has me leaning back down to his cock to pull him deep into my throat and bobbing my head.

"Fuck," Franco manages out while bucking his hips right on the edge of cumming.

I pull back at the last second while squeezing his cock knowing it'll help him from cumming before I was ready to let him.

"Please," Franco cries out making me smirk at him at how desperate he is.

"Shut up," I tell him before pulling him back into my mouth and repeating the same process while he was under me crying and begging for his release.

"I said shut up! Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I snap at him while sending down a harsh slap on his inner thigh making him whimper at the sudden and sharp pain.

"Please! I'll be good! I'm so close, please!" Franco begs while tears start rolling down his face.

"Look like a proper whore! Crying for me like you weren't just doing the same thing to me," I tease before taking Franco back into my mouth and edging him once again.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Franco groans out once again making me pull away from his cock entirely to watch as it bounces against his lower tummy in search of stimulation so it could finally be put out of it's misery.

"Mierda, Please lo necesito tan malo," Franco says so lost in his pleasure he's asking in Spanish. I let Franco start to come down from the edge while I lean down and start kissing his inner thighs before I start taking small little bites of out his sink before I finally sink my teeth in and leave a little hickey on his inner thight while i repeat the process a few times letting his once bare thighs be scattered with hickeys made by me.

"Given, I don't know Spanish I'm gonna take it you want me to do it again!" I say with a smirk only resulting in Franco crying out again while thrashing his body around a bit.

"Quite it!" I say while sending down a hard slap on his inner thigh knowing it'll get him to stop squirming around under me.

I lean back down and pull Franco into my mouth again and start bobbing my head which has Franco instantly gripping at my hair trying to keep me down on his cock, but it didn't work because the second he was about to cum I use all my strength to pull my mouth away.

"No, no, no, no, I can't do it anymore," Franco cries out making me smirk before climbing into his lap and sinking down on his cock making him cum almost instantly.

"Mierda, sentirse tan bien envuelta alrededor de mi polla," Franco chants in Spanish while I ride him through his orgasm.

"Fuck, I need you still Franco please," I beg while riding his cock which had him flipping us back over so he was over me again while he starts pounding into ym pussy as if he hadn't just cum.

"FUck, Franco, not gonna last long," I cry out making him speed up.

"Fucking hold it and be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Franco grunts back making me whimper.

"PLease, Franco can't hold it back," I whine out making Franco roll his eyes and pull his cock out right before I was about to cum.

"Franco! What the fuck," I try to shout but it comes out more like a whine making Franco smirk at me.

"I'm just giving you the same treatment," Franco replies back before plunging his cock deep into my pussy and fucking me.

“Please!” I beg once again which has Franco speeding up his actions while bringing his head down and biting my neck making me whimper while throwing me over the edge and into another orgasm.

When I finally come down from my high Franco slows his hips down and unleashes another load deep into my pussy to join the first load he gave me.

“Fuck,” Franco groans while pulling out of me slowly and climbing out of bed to clean me up.

“Im not moving from this bed for atleast 12 hours,” I joke while curling into Franco’s side and relaxing into his warm embrace.

“Sounds like 12 hours of free range to fuck you,” Franco jokes back which has me whining and clenching my thighs at the thought.

“You like that idea I see,” Franco further teases with a laugh making me burry my face in his chest and start kissing his skin before making my way to his mouth and pull him in for a kiss.

“Think your teammate would believe it if I said you’re actually pretty sweet to me sometimes,” Franco says making me laugh softly and shake my head.

“No George is convinced Im heartless,” I reply back making both of us giggle softly.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you please write something angsty about dally helping out darry after discovering how stressed he is or maybe finding him crying

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, but here it is. Gonna tag @chained-sweater and @johnnyburntcake because they both asked to be tagged when it was finished after reading my out of context snippet. As with most of my stuff this is unbetaed so sorry for any mistakes or typos

*******************

Dallas Winston needs a lot of things. His boots are held together with duct tape and about fourteen different layers of mud, his jeans are worn, torn, patched, and torn again, and his number of material possessions is probably something less than twenty- he never had much in the first place and he pawned just about everything he had when he ran from New York five years ago. But despite all the things he is lacking, all the things he’s never had and the things he could use, what he wants most right now is a fucking break.

Dammit but he didn’t think moving out to rodeo country would involve caring so much. His gang back in New York had been a proper gang- more organized and even crueler than Shepards outfit, a group of tough as nails dealers and muscle, who’d just as soon shoot a kid as they would give them a chance. Hell, he’d been scared of them back in the day, for all he’d been smarter than most of them, because that kind of casual violence only came from the joy of hurting something, not from necessity. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of those sorts of people. Here though, in sleepy little Tulsa Oklahoma his gang is…a drunk, a dropout, two high schoolers, one recent high school graduate, and tagalong middle school kid- and yet, Dally finds himself far more loyal and goddamn committed to the ragtag group of big hearted losers than he ever was to old Alfie and his ring of coke dealing miscreants. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. It’s horrible. It’s tiring is what it is, and Dally needs a goddamn break. Who wouldn’t after the night he’d just had, which involved practically dragging a nearly hypothermic Johnny Cade out of the cold and trying to warm the kid up? And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then had the dubious honour of driving Ponyboy to school this morning. Something about the kid’s zombielike stare and hunched shoulders had left him thinking of how bright those eyes used to be, just three months ago, which led to him thinking of Mrs. Curtis’ stern demeanour but kind face, and it was all just too much. Dallas needs a break. He wasn’t meant for this sappy caring shit. He’s done his mourning- he doesn’t need to be knocked all off kilter because of two kids who think of themselves as gangsters but in reality are nothing more than battered kids, bruised in different ways. This is the problem, Dally has found, with gangs that are more family than function- they’re made of people instead of parts of a machine. You can’t care about someone who is replaceable- but no one in the Curtis gang is replaceable, not by a long shot. That wasn’t the case back in New York.

Whatever. He’s done thinking about this now. He’s going to go back to the Curtis house and watch shit tv and maybe steal some food if the kitchen doesn’t look too skint this week. He is not going to think about kids who aren’t his problem (and yet completely are because he’d joined this stupid excuse of a gang and made them his problem in the first place), and he is going to stop being so fucking soft. Geez. If Tim could hear his thoughts right about now he’d lose just about all his street cred. 

Of course, because he’s Dallas Winston, and life has never thrown him a fucking bone in all seventeen years of his life on earth, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon are dashed the second he steps through the door. 

Darrel Curtis- six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, cool headed Darrel Curtis- is parked at the worn kitchen table, head in his hands, a water bill and something Dally is reasonably sure is property tax forms sitting in front of him.

 And he’s crying.

Darry Curtis doesn’t cry. In all the time Dally has known him, he’s never seen the guy so much as sniffle- not even at the funeral three months ago when Darry buried both parents in one horrible day. Soda had broken down immediately, and Pony had stared wide eyed, rivers of silent tears pouring down his cheeks- but Darry hadn’t. He’s crying now though, and not just a little bit either, huge gut wrenching sobs tearing from his mouth and shit Dallas doesn’t really know what to do. What he wants to do is pretend he never saw this, pretend it never happened and leave, let Darry have his well earned breakdown in the solitude he clearly believed he had. Of course, he would have had to have the foresight not to slam open the screen door for that to even be a possibility.

Darry jumps at the noise, shoulders squaring immediately, letting out one last sob that he could easily explain away as a gasp of surprise as he regains his barings. 

“Oh,” He clears his throat, valiantly trying to pretend like his eyes are bloodshot and his stubble covered cheeks covered in tear trcks, “hey Dal. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

In that second he sounds so much like his mother that it punches Dally in the chest a little bit. Something about the ocean of feelings quickly locked behind a kind word and a carefully controlled expression is so reminiscent of Mrs. Curtis that Dally almost finds himself nodding a yes and escaping into the kitchen. He can’t though, because as much as Darry acts like her, he will never be his godlike mother. Instead, he is his kind hearted self, a twenty year old with the custody of two kid brothers he couldn’t bear to be separated from, and all the pressures of adult life most people don’t even start having to worry about until they’ve had time to really live. Mrs.Curtis had taken care of all of them, even Dally when everyone else only ever looked at him as a lost cause. Darry can’t do that though, can barely look out for Soda and Pony. Anyone with eyes can see how he’s been struggling since the funeral, nevermind the way Soda’s endless energy has turned anxious and resentful, grades slipping, while Pony gets quieter and moodier, a thirteen year old ticking time bomb. 

“You stay outta trouble for me Dallas,” Mrs. Curtis said to him once, “I know you ain’t a good boy but you’re a loyal one and sometimes that’s more important. So don’t go gettin’ yourself locked up for a bit, savvy? My boys need you more than they know.” 

She hadn’t just been talking about Darry, Soda, and Pony. The whole gang was Mrs.Curtis’ boys and everyone knew it, but Dally had held those words close to his heart more times than he could count, a balm on his perpetually blackened soul. Mrs.Curtis had known the score, known that goodness wasn’t the same thing as love, and she’d loved him anyhow- unconditionally and more than his own sorry excuse of a mom ever had. She’d trusted him too, never babied him or tried to fix him the way every other adult was always trying to, just patched him up when he got into trouble, and scolded him for not being smarter. You wouldn’t have survived this long if you were stupid Dallas, so don’t go pullin’ a stunt like this again. C’mon and git some dinner now, there's casserole in the fridge.

It would break her heart to see Darry like this now, so small and defeated, two things her eldest son was never meant to be. But she isn’t here right now, never will be again.

But Dally is.

My boys need you more than they know.

Damn Mrs.Curtis and her all knowing ways, because she knew what she was doing when she took him in because now he’s stuck with this stupid gang in this stupid town forever because she made him love her and love them all too.

“What’s goin’ on Darry?”

“Nothing,” Darry lies, fingers twitching a bit to pull the papers closer to him.

“I ain’t Soda, you don’t gotta lie to me like that.”

Shame twists his handsome features and he looks down, fidgeting with his high school ring.

“I don’t got enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money Dallas,” he snaps, “I don’t get my first paycheck from that new job until next week, and both these are due on Friday. I bought groceries yesterday, and paid the hydro on Monday, no matter what I’m short.”

There’s such fear in his eyes. Dally remembers what the social workers said when Darry got custody, how militant they’re going to be checking up on him. One missed bill could have Soda and Ponyboy taken away before any of them could cry ‘unfair’.

My boys need you more than they know.

Dally can’t let that happen. It would kill Darry, Soda might go full crazy and Ponyboy…the kid was already sensitive. He’d never make it in a boy’s home. 

“How much?”

“What?” Darry blinks at him and Dally rolls his eyes. Darry Curtis has never been stupid, so he doesn’t know why he’s acting stupid now. 

“How much money do you need?”

“Four fifty.”

Dally winced. That was more than he had on him right now, more than he could get from Two-bit and Steve if he asked on the down low. None of them ever had that kind of scratch just lying around- unless Steve’s dad had recently paid him to come back home, but the old man had booted Steve out two days ago and chucked a bottle at him yesterday when he went back to grab spare clothes so they probably weren’t back to playing happy family yet, and likely wouldn’t be for  while.

Still. There’s other ways to get money.

My boys need you more than you know.

“Leave it to me.” Dally promises.

“No.” Darry shoots him down immediately,  “It ain’t your responsibility Dallas-”

“It ain’t all yours either.”

“That’s exactly what it is!”

“Are we a gang or not?” Dally glares, “I know you Curtis boys are wicked at acceptin’ help but like it or not you need it right now! I ain’t watchin’ the state take Soda an’ Pony away because of your fucking pride Darry!”

Darry stares at him a moment, eyes hard before he sighs, shoulders drooping, suddenly looking the same type of bone deep exhausted that is becoming an all too familiar look on him. 

“Just…don’t do anything illegal, ok? The boys can’t handle you bein’ locked up right now.”

For some reason the words sting. It’s true the gang’s all been a wreck since the Curtis parents died, but Dally is under no illusions as to his place in their ragtag little group. They survived well enough before him, and they’ve survived every time he’s been in the cooler since knowing them, and it won’t be any different if he gets locked up now.

He must have scoffed or something because Darry glares at him. “I mean it.”

Whether he’s talking about the gang needing him or about him not doing anything that could get him into trouble with the cops, Dally doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. Instead, he turns on his heel, a plan already forming in his mind.

Buck Merril is just about the most pigheaded cowboy Dally’s ever met in his life, but he’s always running about half a dozen money making scams at any point in time, and he jumps anytime Dally offers to help because he gets stuff done and keeps his trap shut good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, working for a guy he hardly likes and doesn’t respect, but money is money and Darry needs money desperately right now so he swallows his pride and asks Buck what needs doing.

He ends up two towns over, at a rickety trailer park off the main road, two kilos of smack stashed under the seat of Buck’s car. He makes the drop, bullies the buyer who wasn’t willing to cough up Buck’s agreed upon price, and ignores the way his stomach twists at the way he just gave someone else the very thing that destroyed his sister’s life, a million years ago back in New York. 

Buck claps him on the shoulder when he gets back. Dally shoves him off, takes his cut of dirty money, and leaves before he can punch someone. 

Warm light spills out the window of the Curtis house when he gets there. Ponyboy is leaning against Johnny on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky, Johnny murmuring something to him that the kid doesn’t seem to be really hearing. It’s frightfully domestic and frightfully sad, the bruise on Johnny’s cheekbone almost black in the dim evening light, Ponyboy looking so skinny and tired Dally has the urge to tell him to go to bed. He doesn’t of course- it’s not his place, and Pony isn’t his brother. Instead, he ruffles both kids' hair as he passes them, tells them to get inside so they’ll have enough folks for a round of poker, and goes to find Darry.

Darry’s in the kitchen, scrubbing purple mac’n’cheese off a saucepan when Dally finds him. He watches for a minute, sees the tension in Darry’s broad shoulders, the viciousness in the way he’s scrubbing the pan. Desperation, Dally knows Is all consuming, bleeding into every thought, every action, every facet of life. For all he’s a different kind of desperate, Darry Curtis is as desperate now as Dally himself is.

He spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Johnny and Pony have trooped inside, the latter robotically shuffling a deck of cards, while Soda and Johnny chat quietly. Steve is flipping through channels on the radio, and Two is nowhere to be found. None of them so much as glance at the kitchen. Good.

“Dar.” 

Darry jumps, turns. 

“Glory Dal, scare a man to death, why dontcha!”

He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. Here.” He holds out an envelope, and Darry’s eyes light first in understanding, then in hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“Dal…”

“Take it,” He shakes the envelope, “before the others see.”

Hesitantly Darry reaches out, but as soon as his hands close around the paper he all but snatches it from Dally’s hand.

“Dal…I…thank you. I can’t tell you-”

“Whatever man,” Dally can feel the discomfort that comes anytime he is thanked or treated half decently raring in his chest, “I told you I’d take care of it and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“It ain’t a loan, it’s just helpin’ out.”

“That’s not what I- nevermind,” Darry shakes his head, mouth twisting in a rueful half smile, “There’s dinner in the fridge, I made sure Soda saved you some.”

Dally fixes himself a plate, glaring down at pasta that was never meant to be purple, and he and Darry join everyone else in the living room. Johnny grins when he sees him, scooting closer to Ponyboy to make room on the sofa, and Steve steals the cards out of Pony’s hands to start dealing, having finally found a station playing half decent music. 

Dally eats his dinner and plays poker, pretending he doesn’t care half as much as he does when he loses. He wins half of Soda’s cigarettes and quickly loses them all to Johnny, pretending the feeling in his chest isn’t softer than anything he usually lets himself feel.

These boys don’t know it but they need him more than they know, and he’ll keep them safe. For Mrs, Curtis, but for himself too. 

After all, he’s always been a selfish bastard. 

[holleighgram]

Nobody asked but I'm gonna start doing headcanons of what characters order at a bar (when they are of legal and responsible drinking age)

Sora: Screwdriver.

I don't have if it's not brunch. Sora likes orange juice and he hates the taste of alcohol.

Riku: Dark and Stormy:

dark island rum for my dark island boy and Ginger beer to help ease the nausea from his anxiety.

Kairi: Moscato Rose.

probably from a box. (Okay fine, a mimosa because she' following soras lead, but doesn't like vodka cause it's too strong.

Roxas: Jack and Coke.

Rum reminds him of Destiny Islands and he doesn't like it. He's not sora..

Axel: amaretto sour

Xion: Tequila Sunrise.

Orange juice for Sora, grenadine for Kairi, and then Tequila that makes you forget.

Ventus: a fucking Pabst Blue Ribbon.

He tried Terras IPA once and will ever try and IPA again

Aqua: Gin and Tonic

but she doesn't actually enjoy it. It's just what the bartender always makes her for free when they flirt with her.

So she would prefer a "Voqua Cranberry"

Terra: whiskey sour.

It has egg white in it, and my boy needs his GAINS.

Xehanort and Eraqus play that chess game but replace the pieces with shot glasses full of mystery liquors. They get hammered and start a keyblade war.

Master Yensid: just raw- dogging a bottle of absinthe

Demyx- Jagerbomb

Vanitas- buys a shot of the most expensive malt liquor, downs it, chews and eats the shot glass, gives the bartender a bloody gummed smile and wink and leaves without paying.

Namine: White claw./ Vodka Soda

Ansem the Wise- scotch. Cause hes LikeThat™️ .....fucking asshole

Hanger- Mike's harder lemonade

Pance- budwiser.

Omlette- Paloma

Xigbar- old fashioned

Jiminy: Bloody Mary

Repliku: rubbing alcohol

[allfryam]

feeder for president!

Lots of excitement was shared when Frank wheeler was elected as the new president of the United States. He seemed to have great ambitions and an incredible spirit. But just a few months after he was elected, he put a new law into place. Every single American over the age of 18 must consume at least 5000 calories per day or they will be executed. He implanted every single American with a chip in the back of their throat that counted their calories. If the requirement had not been met, it would start leaking a poisonous substance into your system immediately. Effectively killing the person. This wasn’t all though. All gyms and any form of exercise equipment became illegal. Sidewalks were replaced with conveyor belts to prevent people from burning calories. Every year, you are required to gain at least 25 pounds. For every pound over this goal, the government will send a $100 check to your home.

as expected, all hell broke loose. People began rioting and begged for the law to be reversed. The smart people didn’t hesitate to start stuffing their face. Fast food restaurants had their busiest days in years as people frantically raced to consume as many calories as possible. To bring in more customers, McDonald’s released the heart attack burger. It was three burger patties cooked in pure oil and fat, then there was 6 pieces of bacon, loaded fries, a mountain of cheese, and McDonald’s new secret sauce. The burger contained almost 2000 calories and people went nuts for it. Companies removed small drinks and fries and replaced them with xtra large and supersize. A supersized coke was two liters and contained almost 100 calories.

the new system quickly weeded out the protesters and the only people left were obedient, soon to be fatties. Fitness influencers became weight gain influencers. They would give tips and tricks on how to eat more and expand your stomach. New stores began to open where you would pay to be mindlessly fed by one of the employees. You could set a certain amount of calories or a certain amount of time to be stuffed. If you were really desperate, some places carried an item called a lard ball. It had exactly 5000 calories all in the size of a pill. You would take it and immediately feel like you had just stuffed yourself silly at a buffet. It was quite expensive, but for those who could afford it, it was a game changer.

after a couple years with the new law, there wasn’t a person in sight without at least a bit of a belly. Abs were a thing of the past and it was hard for new 18 year olds to let go of theirs. But they obeyed and ate till they passed out. Some people took the $100 a pound rule very seriously. With how easy it was to gain weight, some people could gain over 100 pounds and get tens of thousands of dollars. Desk jobs became popular as no one was fit enough to do much else. Jobs were now required to give multiple snack breaks to employees so they had time to stuff themselves. it was paradise. Bulging bellies in all directions, former abs were memories of the past, countless people racing to shove food down their throats to meet the limit. I think this law may stay in place forever!

[midsummer-semantics]

under the dancing lights

Small break while I do a million other things but here's *checks calendar* day 16 of @steddieangstyaugust.

Prompt: Halloween

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Underage Drinking, Cemeteries, Canon Complaint (question mark???), Ambiguous Ending

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

He isn’t sure why he’s out here. It’s not like there’s anything left, anything calling him to action. The kids are old enough to trick-or-treat without supervision, Robin is with Vicky at a party he didn’t want to third-wheel to, and everyone else…

The point is, traipsing through Roane County cemetery on Halloween night seemed like a good idea when Steve is three Jack and Coke’s deep and unsure of where he fits into the regular world. He bought a dozen flowers on the way here just before the shop closed for the evening, like he couldn’t risk showing up to the cemetery empty-handed for some reason. 

Barb’s grave is overrun with flowers 365 days a year, three years running. Steve leaves several of the carnations in the bundle he carries at the tombstone, begging forgiveness as he does every few months. He hasn’t told Nancy what he does, even when he’s accompanied her a few times. He simply stays silent, lets Nancy grieve, and returns a few weeks later to replace the dead ones when no one is paying attention.

Next is Bob Newby, whom he didn’t know, but the kids did, so he drops a couple of flowers off out of perfunctory expectation.

Billy is the one of the hardest, his grave near Steve’s dad’s grandparents’ joint plot. He tends to spend a little more time here, aware of how the plot feels under his knees, remembering how Max looked as she lifted in the air under Vecna’s influence. Sometimes, Steve comes just to sit, to stare at Billy’s name and curse his existence, even if it brought him Max. Other times, Steve sits and talks, tells his rival how his step-sister is doing, how Steve learned to plant his feet, how regardless of what a piece of shit he was, no one deserved to deal with the bullshit the Upside Down had to offer. He leaves one flower out of obligation, but he doesn’t linger like he normally would.

He leaves a few at Chrissy’s grave, not just because she died, but because he knew her, even vaguely because she was a cheerleader while he was still on the basketball team. And because Eddie would want him to.

He flips off Jason’s grave as he passes it.

Three years — less than, technically— since the first death. Almost three years since Steve took Jonathan’s nail bat and made it his weapon of choice against the monsters that lurk beneath their feet. 

Over half a year since Max went into a coma that doctors — UD connected or otherwise — or Eleven haven't been able to wake her up from. 

Seven months since Eddie Munson was added to the list of people Steve couldn’t save.

The sun has dipped well past the treeline on the edges of the cemetery by the time he reaches Eddie’s grave. There’s no one else around, thankfully, but Steve knows it’s only a matter of time before some idiot high school kids make their way to the cemetery to get trashed and try to see a ghost or fuck near one of the graves. He should know, he was one of those idiot kids not too long ago.

There’s writing on Eddie’s headstone, scrawling letters spelling out MURDERER in red spray paint. One of the R’s is backward, Steve notes, rolling his eyes, a gesture that makes his vision swim a little. It’s not the worst thing that’s been blasted across the headstone since it was placed, but it’s by far the dumbest. He sets the remaining flowers down at his feet as he crouches to examine the writing closer. It’s dry, but it can’t have been there for more than a few days considering he was just here for Eddie’s birthday and had cleaned the last slur himself. He should have brought a bucket and brush instead of the stupid flowers, but he’s a little wobbly from the alcohol and the idea of going back to his car for any reason other than to go home and pass out alone sounds terrible. He’ll come back tomorrow and clean it, plus whatever gets done to it tonight probably. Maybe he should have brought his nail bat. Camped out next to Eddie’s grave and waited to see who exactly is doing it so he can make sure they know never to do it again.

Steve loses his precarious balance, falling back on his ass in the cold, damp grass with a soft “oof!” The flask in his back pocket digs into one cheek, and he shuffles around until he can extract it, then leans back on one hand while the other holds the cool metal.

“Probably stupid to drink more, but I doubt you’d give me shit about it,” Steve says to the grave, holding the flask up like he’s making a toast before closing his eyes and taking a swig. He actually hates whiskey, but it was all that was in the house since it’s his dad’s favorite, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, he coughs a bit as the straight liquor burns a path down his throat — he really should have brought some kind of chaser with him, but hindsight and all that — and then lays back on the grass as soon as it clears.

He keeps his eyes closed, breathing through the slight roil in his stomach, and imagines what it would be like if he simply sank into the ground beneath him. Not like if vines were to spring up and drag him under, but if he just slowly melted into the earth the way one feels like they’re melting on a really plush mattress.

It’s only a slight comfort that the grave he’s lying on is empty. Otherwise, his vision of being swallowed by the earth might come with the extra twist of Eddie’s hands dragging him down Evil Dead-style. 

He snorts to himself, his head lolling back and forth a bit. Eddie would have loved that reference, he knows it. He may not have known him for long before. . . before, but he’s sure of it regardless.

After a moment, he brings his hands up to rub the heels into his eyes, waiting until he sees stars before he opens them. The stars continue to blink for a few seconds as his eyes adjust to the inky black sky.

Wait.

No.

There are stars dancing. Little lights swaying to and fro in front of his face, with more popping up around him. He turns his head in awkward directions against the grass, knowing he’s getting foliage in his hair the whole time, watching as more blink to life.

He shuts his eyes again as he sits up, but when he reopens them, they’re still there. It’s too late in the year for fireflies, too cold this late at night at the end of October, and yet the lights dance regardless. 

“Whoa,” he breathes, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu to when he was blitzed out of his mind on Russian truth serum and staring at the ceiling of Starcourt.

One of the stars comes close to him, wisping against his cheek like a tickling feather before flying away. Another does it to his left arm where he’s holding himself up, another to his hip where his shirt has ridden up slightly under his windbreaker. Steve giggles uncontrollably as another brushes his forehead and he turns his head to follow them. There’s another, and another, and another, and as he reaches out to catch one—

“Having a good night, big boy?”

[bratbby333]

the jjk men + their drink of choice

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

sfw; mentions of alcohol, obvi

feat: suguru, yuuji, megumi, satoru, nanami, sukuna, toji, ++ choso

author notes: i've been bartending for three years now and i can safely say ive gotten pretty good at reading people and guessing their go-to drinks,,so here's the jjk men!

-suguru: a whiskey coke. probably jack or maker's mark. simple, straightforward, and gets the job done. suguru is too laid back to be picky and is definitely the most patient person sitting at the bar. his intuitive and observant nature has him scanning the other patrons at the bar; he's a people watcher for entertainment, paying no mind to the tv's. he speaks to the bartender with a smile on his face, joking around with them, making small talk and sarcastic remarks. he's just so sassy and violently intelligent; his soft, healing energy rubbing off on everyone around him. he's a breath of fresh air in a busy bar environment. he tips well, too.

-yuuji: a piña colada (rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice; blended and served in a hurricane glass, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry). freshly 21 years old, this would be his first legal drink. "look, you even get snacks with it!!" he'd say, referring to the garnishes, his age definitely showing with this drink. he attempts to chug it, getting a brain freeze in the process.

-megumi: an espresso martini. classy, bold, and strong; this drink is definitely for someone who wants to appear more mature and sophisticated than they actually are. megumi is mature, but he's overcompensating for the fact that his best friend just ordered the fruitiest drink possible. the caffeine mixing with the liquor makes meg more talkative than usual, and his reserved nature and unreadable face is left at the door and replaced with soft smiles and the occasional chuckle at his goofy friends. he'd also definitely makes fun of yuuji for ordering that piña colada.

-satoru: a tequila sunrise (tequila, orange juice, grenadine, layered to make a gradient). extra af, sweet, and fruity. orders it with a triple shot cause he's grown. "it's just so pretty, isn't it?" he'd giggle, kicking his feet under the bar like he isn't a fully grown man or the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. oh, satoru. filled with such child-like wonder. with enough drinks in his system (although, he'd definitely do this without the liquor), he would work his way around the bar trying to make conversation with anyone and everyone, not caring if they didn't participate- no biggie, he'd just talk at them.

-nanami: a manhattan or an old fashioned, but only with top-shelf bourbon. it'd be a waste to have the bartender craft this perfect cocktail and use shitty liquor. he sips it slow, savoring the caramel notes of the bourbon. the perfect drink for a stoic and reserved man. nanami definitely has a sophisticated palate and never settles for low quality liquor. he goes to more upscale bars, enjoying the smooth jazz that pours through the speakers, occasionally snacking on small h'ordeurves, but more often than not working his way through a pile of paperwork.

-sukuna: liquid cocaine shots (equal parts goldschlager, jager, and rumple minze). absolutely unhinged and vile, but if you like them, you love them. and sukuna loooves them. he takes the shots like they're water and still manages to out drink everyone else; he'll even offer to buy shots for everyone at the bar, the other patrons cheering and thanking him, expecting it to be shots of vodka or tequila. with a maniacal smile plastered across his face, he watches as everyone's faces contort in disgust when they realize it's a liquid cocaine shot. sukuna just grins as they struggle to get them down. such a sadist. an absolute menace.

-toji: an adios motherfucker (equal parts tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and blue curaçao, with sour mix and sprite). "but that's such a lame drink!" his friends say, but toji would roll his eyes and state that it's a funny drink name and that it gets him drunker quicker; promptly chugging it and ordering another. the glass looks so small in his giant hands, other bar patrons casting judgmental gazes in his direction at the scene in front of them; giant, scary-looking man and his fruity little drink, but he couldn't care less. it's not like they have the balls to say anything to his face, any way.

-choso: a little overwhelmed by bar culture but happy to be invited anyway, he'd sneak a straw into his brother's piña colada, even though yuuji would be more than happy to share. choso would eventually branch out on his own after feeling a bit more confident (and after googling the most popular drinks around the world) settling on a mojito, not realizing it was one of the more laborious drinks a bartender could make. he'd feel bad when he realized it and wouldn't order one again, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: this took me way longer to write than it should have solely because i couldn't stop laughing over some of the scenarios. also,,i just want to thank each and every one of y'all for liking, commenting, and reblogging my stories...it means so so so much to me and i wish i could give all y'all a big ole smooch on the forehead (consensually). my inbox is open n ready for ur suggestions...please feel free to drop a request♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[darling-solaire]

i am asking about solaire's transport choices

Solaire vehicle HCs:

Vincent:

I’m not sure if the fandom made this or Erik confirmed that Vincent has 4 cars but uses one more than the others because it’s like a newer version of his car pre turning but I really wanna build off of that because it’s such a clear presentation of his character to me

William gave that boy everything he could’ve wanted after his turning maybe it’s guilt maybe it’s a genuine love for someone he’s seen grow but despite it all all Vincent wants is the humanity he cannot have

Him having all the options in the world and him clinging onto something from his past that isn’t the same but the closest he can get really shows how despite everything he has still not come to terms with the fact that he is a vampire and is no longer the boy he was before

Alexis:

Alexis is truly daddy’s little princess and while she isn’t the favourite she’s never left wanting for much

She seems like someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t waver from her preferences often which why I think she would go for a more vintage car

Probably a 50s convertible in like a coke bottle red because she knows her standing as a princess and wishes to be seen wherever she goes

Sam:

I think after Sam’s turning and all the turmoil that happened within the house William offered to buy Sam whatever he’d like anything to compensate for his tremendous loss and it came to a point where he offered to replace the car Sam broke in the crash

But I don’t think Sam would ever want a gift like that to buy his silence almost especially so close to the turning and especially not a replacement because it would simply remind him of the incident over and over

That’s not to say sam would let the old man off the hook. He took the money a stored it away until he was good and ready to purchase something of his choosing and after hard deliberation he decided he didn’t need anything fancy anything that tied him to the others he wanted something humble something that was his alone and that’s how he got his truck

Porter:

Porter has a car it’s brand new and he’s never really used it much.

With his line of work a car would only draw more attention to him so he opts for a motorcycle because I bike would allow him to slip into areas much easier than a larger vehicle ever could.

He works on it meticulously making sure it’s always at top condition because he can’t risk it breaking down on him but a smaller part of him takes pride in working on it it gives him an opportunity to work on something without any outside input an almost therapeutic ritual for him

[blixabargelds]

last line(s) tag

thank u @swifty-fox have some ghost hunting au 👻

“Don’t you think that would sell,” John presses- an old, boring debate that he can’t leave well enough alone. “You know people online already think we’re fucking.”

“I don’t go online,” Gale says.

“You’re on your goddamn emails right now.”

“John,” Gale says. He looks at him, faced pinched, and John feels a pang of guilt settle cold and heavy in his stomach.

He sighs. “You’re right.”

It hurts, like always, but he’s not trying to be an asshole. Everyone knows John’s business, and people only know because of some asshole whose business it wasn’t to tell.

It took him weeks of shame; hiding in his apartment and re-reading all the shitty forums. Pictures of him one rotten night, some grimy club, coked up and kissing anyone, girl or guy, who made him feel a little better about himself. He’s got no idea who took them. He’s got no idea who any of the people he’d latched onto were, either. The coke had since gone, replaced by mood stabilisers and Marlboros, but the pictures, and John’s business, were out there forever.

He’s owned it. It helped, in some ways. Bagans plays the bad boy of paranormal television, but when John was outed as a certified, real-life, real person, viewings for 100 Haunts shot sky-high. It doesn’t change the fact that it all happened without his consent. He isn’t doing that to Gale any time soon. No matter how much he wants to hold his fucking hand.

no presh tagging @feyd-meowtha @stereobone @c-goldthorn @wayrad

[seven-oomen]

When the world's at stake | Poolverine fic |preview

I'm writing again for the first time in months, so be nice. I'm trying. I'm pretty happy with this so far. bit of a character study of Logan's feelings and insecurities as he gets to know Laura, Wade, and his friends and settles into this new life. Will eventually feature Omega!Logan.

Love isn’t something he deserves. Not after everything he’s done. After everything’s he’s been through. Love is meant as a bond of warmth between people who will do anything for each other. Stronger than any adversity. He’s already proven in the past that love is utterly wasted on him.

And yet, as Laura smiles at him like he’s her entire world, he can’t help but feel the supernova of warmth sparking in his chest. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve it, but by fucking god will he make sure she feels loved for the rest of his days. He can’t replace her father, he’s not that virtuous, nor good, he’s not that Logan. But he sure as shit can try to be a surrogate. For her. He’d do anything to see her smile like that.

At least it’s the one thing in his new life that is fairly simple to figure out. Things are a whole lot more complicated when it comes to Wade.

Wade who’s sitting beside him as his friends and family are gathered around him. Wade who invited him into his home and life without even so much as a second guess. Wade who smiles at him and Laura, and ruffles Mary’s Mohawk as he leans against him. And for a split second he almost believes that the warmth in Wade’s eyes is directed at them both.

It can’t be. He knows that. Wade’s just smiling because of the cub next to him and how her little antics keep him focused on her. That’s all. There’s nothing more to this. Not when Vanessa sits on Wade’s other side.

Because why in hell’s name would Wade ever smile at him, when he has his entire world around him already?

He’s just the extra baggage that comes with saving it all. That’s all he is.

It doesn’t take away that nagging little feeling in the back of his throat. But that’s just life isn’t it? Can’t have everything you want.

So he simply returns that smile and fights down the urge to do anything about it. Instead taking the bloody dog from Wade and nudging him in her direction.

Vanessa is a good person. She’s good for Wade. He can tell. It’s in her eyes, in her soothing scent. In a way she reminds him of Kayla. Back before everything went to absolute shit. They have the same air about them, kind, compassionate, not taking any shit from the people they care about while giving their all in return. That’s the kind of person Wade deserves.

Laura ruffles Mary’s hair again and lays her head on his shoulder, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts. He’s met with a knowing gaze from the cub as he looks down at her. Too smart for her own good.

He chuckles anyway. “Comfy?” “You make a good pillow, yeah.” “You’re a weird cub, you know that?” “Cub?” She tilts her head up and stares at him in defiance for a moment or two, then chuckles. “You’re a weird old man.” “I’m not disputing that.” “As if you could…” She mumbles with a roll of her eyes. He immediately misses her warmth when she sits up to take a sip of her coke.

He didn’t mean to call her cub to her face, it just happened. In his universe it’s not unusual for an Omega to address a kid in that way. But this isn’t his universe and every little interaction like this constantly reminds him of that fact. It’s gonna take a while to get used to.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Gusion x f!Reader - Skipping school (18+)

A/N: A something that I got inspired to write by something that defnitelly didn't happen. This might not be the best out there, but this is my first smut in a really long time (last time i wrote one i was still a minor and had no bussiness in knowing what smut is). Also this is very self-indulgent, so I'm sorry if it's too ooc for you. (Writing this also made me realise that Gusion is pretty much like my real life boyfriend)

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Gusion

Word count: 1471

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

    ༺☆༻

“I thought you were at school.” Gusion startled you as you were going to the kitchen for another glass of coke. You didn't even notice him sitting in your living room and reading a book from your bookcase. Of course he was reading your favorite book you raved to him about many times before.

“I uh....missed my bus...” you trailed off not wanting to admit to him that you'd now twice in a row skipped school. But then something popped into your head: “...Hey, what part are you reading?”.

“Don't even think about changing the subject. How did that happen again?” his tone was stern and slightly irritated.

“I was literally right there, but the driver is a dick and left even though he saw me clearly there.” you huffed and sat down next to Gusion in annoyance.

“You're a pain to deal with, you know?”

“And yet you still come here.”

“Ugh, whatever. Do you at least have some notes from those classes?”

“Yeah, teachers send us the materials we're working with.”

“Great, so go take your notes and when you're done we can read this book together.” Gusion finishes your argument with a sip of coffee from one of your mugs. You stand up with the same annoyance you sat down with and head back to your room.

Not even twenty minutes pass and you're already fed up with all the different types of fruit for your Pomology class, so you resort to scrolling on your phone instead.

“Just what do you think you're doing right now?” a voice booms from behind you.

“A break. Ever heard of the Pomodoro method?”

“You've barely written down half of a page.” Gusion looms over you to see what you've written.

“There's a lot to get through!” You say loudly this time, annoyed that he chooses to not pick up on your bad mood.

“You really are a pain. Do I really have to supervise you?” he sighs as much as his lungs allow.

The moment Gusion sees your answer is only an eyeroll, he picks you up, sits on your chair and sets you on his lap. You can feel his slightly rapid heartbeat and smell his significant scent of dark coffee and old books. This definitely made things worse and the delicious juicy fruits in your materials would soon be replaced by thoughts about another delicious fruit that you currently sat on. You tried to compose yourself, but Gusion noticed your slightly ragged breath.

“I tell you what: for every page you fill up I'll give you a hickey.” he mutters under your ear and follows it by a soft bite. You only softly hum and nod you head, trying to calm your breathing and start to write down things again.

Five pages and five hickeys later, Gusion is playing with the hem to your shorts and patiently waits for you to finish rereading your notes to make sure you understand them. Something else, that is not so patient has made itself known more and more with every page. Every time you slightly shifted in his lap to reach for something or to get more comfortable, Gusion would quietly grunt trying to not distract you from your task. But now you were finished and any distraction was welcome.

“Good girl. Do you know how attractive it was to see you write all that down? I think you deserve a reward. Can you guess what it is?” his hand that played with your shorts moved slightly inward to stroke your inner thigh.

“I think I know exactly what I deserve.” you turn your head around to kiss him.

“You really are a cocky one. Careful with that attitude or you might not get what you expect.” the strokes have turned into light taps with and occasional squeeze between them.

Gusion picks you up and carries you to your bed with leisurely steps as if he's not the one who clearly needs this more. As he sets you down, his hand quickly makes its way to his tie to undo it.

Your back hasn't even fully hit the mattress and your hands are already pinned above your head to be tied to a headboard. Finally looking up from his neck to see his face, you see Gusion's black eyes are even darker with lust.

He pulls back to fully appreciate your choice of outfit, which only consists of thigh highs, oversized zip up hoodie and underwear since you planned to only stay at home for the rest of the day. Though it did make you feel slightly self-conscious, there isn't much that you can do to cover yourself with your hands tied up and your legs being spread by Gusion kneeling between them.

The hands previously holding the end of the tie that binds your wrists, travel slowly over your torso to rest under your thighs, massaging them. He pauses and simply looks at you with unreadable expression despite having one of his rare smirks.

“Are you only gonna look at me all pretty, or are you actually gonna do something?” you break up the silence, slightly curious how he can manage to stay so collected despite his obviously painful boner.

“What a smart mouth you have, but you better be careful I don't find another use for it.” he digs his nails into your thighs and shifts more backwards to take off his shirt. His skin is so tempting to touch; if only you weren't tied down you'd rake your nails down it. He continues by taking off his pants to be left only in his underwear. You shiver in anticipation of what's to come.

Returning to his previous spot, Gusion runs his hands from your ankles up to rest on your waist for a moment while his mouth resumes where it left off leaving hickeys. He slowly makes his way down by unzipping your hoodie and kisses with occasional bites that will surely leave marks. Stopping above the area where you need him the most, pulling your underwear down and skips to your inner thighs. Each of them earns few bites and kisses until he's up again, admiring his work which has already started to begin to show its blue-black results.

“I should leave you like this so you remember to not skip school.” Gusion pauses to palm himself for a few seconds before he finally pulls his member out “But the truth is, that I enjoy having you in my lap while you're taking notes.”

“So I should be missing it more then, huh?” you reply with a sassy tone in your voice and sticking your tongue out with a wink.

Gusion only slaps your inner thigh painfully and gives you a stern look that warns you to not pull a stunt like that. But before you can roll your eyes in response, he enters you and you can feel tears well up in your eyes from the stretch.

A deep sigh leaves Gusion and then finally is followed by him starting to move. He plants a tattooed hand next to your head while the other moves to play with your tits. You try to stealthily get your hands undone so you can scratch and claw his back, but he's having none of it. His thrusts speed up and become more forceful, which has you bouncing closer to the headboard but also brings you closer to your release faster than you'd like.

“S-slow down... Too much...” you manage to breath out between moans to maybe get some mercy to be able enjoy this feeling longer. Gusion only chuckles into your ear and speeds up even more, which has your headboard banging into the wall. At a time like this you're glad you don't have neighbours.

The hand playing with your tits moves to your clit to massage it and his head moves to plant kisses on that special spot on your neck. All of these things combined have you seeing stars and screaming his name.

It doesn't take much time for you to find your release despite trying to hold off for as long as possible. Gusion lets you ride out your orgasm but doesn't pull out. Quite the opposite, actually - he stops, still rock solid.

“Why did you finish me so quickly? Why didn't you finish yourself?” you still try to catch your breath.

“Do you really think I don't know that you also skipped yesterday? I bet there's a lot of things you have to write down for those classes too.” he picks you up while still inside you and carries you back to your desk.

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Chapter 2: Nomination - 3.4k words

TW: Drinking, quirk discrimination, Incel Tomura being a massive jerk for "reasons", author makes a Javascript joke but only understands html Special thanks to @krystalwithakay for laughing at the aforementioned joke and programming the much more complicated Javascript joke yet to come.

“You have a nomination.”

Plastering the bandage to the back of your bleeding heel, you slipped your pumps back on. Your manager stared down her beak at you. You blinked at her before rising to your full height.

“A nomination? I thought Azuma-san canceled our Thursdays permanently after that fight with his wife?”

“It’s another client.” Blue plumage fluffed as she whipped her fan open. “An important client,” she stressed, narrowing her amber eyes.

“So this is the ‘best bunny behavior’ speech?” Tossing a floppy ear back behind your neck, you pitched your voice an octave higher. “Okay! I’m super duper excited to meet him, Mama-san.”

The fan snapped shut. She cocked her head and beckoned you towards the front desk. You tailed her, watching embroidered folds of black taffeta sway back and forth with every calculated swing of her Coke bottle hips. With all the grace of a prima ballerina, she dipped below the countertop and headed for the towel warmer. “You’ve met him before. Briefly. Last Friday.”

Your eyes rolled to the creamy plaster ceiling as you wracked your brain. “But Usagi is back, right? Wouldn’t Tano-san rather have her?”

“It’s not Tano-san.”

A cold sweat broke on your neck as memories of a tooth-and-nail conversation slammed into you like a loose brick. You staggered under the weighty realization. “Wait… you don’t mean—”

Long tongs placed cozy terry cloth on a small silver platter. Leaning over the counter, she snatched your wrist and foisted the tray into your grip. “I don’t know what you did, but you’re the first hostess he’s asked for by name.” Her glare could cut iron. “His sponsor is very well connected and I’m running out of staff. Do not fail me.”

“Yes, Mama-san,” you agreed, shrinking under her heavy expectations.

Just past the ratty leaves of the money tree, slouched in the center of the entryway, the slender-man of Nyanko’s nightmares looked just as bored as you remembered. Poor posture ruined the flawless lines of his expensive wool suit. Dull eyes and a flat expression looked better suited to a mummy than a man of twenty something. His dry, shrunken lips only enhanced the impression. However, the moment you slid into view, he lifted his chin.

It was hard to contain a confident smirk as red eyes rolled over your outfit from top to bottom. The sight of a real, live bunny girl in a halter neck, sleeveless tuxedo shirt and black leather miniskirt slaughtered most men on sight. Though conservative compared to usual club attire (read: T&A: on display), delicate ruffles drew the eye to pearl buttons trailing between sculpted cleavage. Chunky Mary Jane platforms elongated your legs until they could stop traffic. Add in a flash of thin garter belts holding old-school silk stockings at mid thigh and the entire collection could be classified as a weapon of mass erection.

“Welcome back, Shigaraki-san! ♡” Voice stuffed into a falsetto, you dipped into a bow while holding out the hot towel. “I’m soooooo excited that you requested me!”

Hair bristling silence was your only reply. He lifted the wipe up using only two fingers. With all the enthusiasm of a robot, he washed his hands one digit at a time before replacing the cloth on the tray.

Ouch. Like smacking your forehead against an iceberg.

"Please step this way." You gestured to one of the open booths like a variety show host.

He shuffled past, paying less attention to you than one would pay to a stray soda can laying on the pavement.

You hoisted the brown, leather bound menu. "Would you like me to recommend something? There’s a super taste cham—"

He rested his head on his palm, long fingers denting his cheek. "Cassis Orange."

An error has occurred. See error log for details. Java.lang.NullPointerException Error Log: Shigaraki.drinkorder cannot be defined 0: He is joking 1: He cares ≤ 0

…

…

…

1= True

“Oh, yummy!” you cooed, flagging the bartender for one of the sweet cocktails. “Most guys won’t order that drink because of some weird macho complex.” You leaned into your palm, mimicking his stance. “It’s nice to drink with a man who is confident in himself.”

Unblinking eyes stared you down. “What do you want to drink?”

Sake bomb.

You tapped your chin. “Um… I think my favorite is a mimosa with Dom Pérignon.” The tinkling laugh you faked grated on your own nerves. You glanced away, curling inwards to fake lady-like shyness. “Champagne goes straight to my head though…”

Liar. In this profession, drinking skills made bank. Champagne was pricey. Pricey drinks lead to better bonuses. A little white lie here, a coy seduction there and while he was chasing bubbles for a chance to paw you up, you could rake in the cash.

“—so I should probably stick with something like a—”

Sake bomb.

No. Stick to the brand. Frufru girly-girls drink frufru girly drinks. No man picks the adorable bunny to have her drink him under the table. Way too emasculating.

“—lemon sour.”

SAKE BOMB.

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “That’s lame.”

Says the guy drinking the cocktail equivalent of a pink polka dot ribbon?!

You scratched your cheek to cover the wince. “Well, it’s what I can manage. After all, it wouldn't be much fun for you if I got all silly and clingy, right?”

Perfect delivery. If that didn’t make him order you a champagne, the man was a eunuch.

He huffed, scratching his neck. “That does sound gross,” he agreed.

Excuse you?! What kind of man comes to a HOSTESS CLUB and says “ew… I hope hot women DON’T cling to me.” What was he?! Afraid of catching cooties?

You flinched into a fake grin. “I-I know, right? I try very hard to manage myself so I’m fun to be around.”

Ugh. You needed a sake bomb.

Shigaraki’s bored stare cut through you like a knife. You whipped your head around, flashing the waiter the sign for a lemon sour. With a deep breath to soothe your ruffled fur, you turned back to your new arch nemesis.

Game on, crusty boy. Let’s show you what max level charm can do!

Sliding smoothly beside him, you dragged one calf up your thigh until your tight little skirt nearly broke public decency laws. His eyes flicked to your legs. You schooled your expression into a peaceful smile more relaxing than a shiatsu massage. 

“So Shigaraki-san, Mama-san mentioned you have a mentor. What is that like?”

“Pretty much the same as anyone with a mentor I guess.”

“What type of things does he teach you?”

“This and that.”

“It sounds like a well rounded education then.”

“I guess.”

Give a girl something to work with, you tight lipped little snot!

“What’s the favorite thing you learned so far?”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes rolling to the ceiling. The edge of his lip twitched upwards for one heartbeat. “Not to judge people at face value. To always assume they’re hiding something.”

You giggled. “Well, that’s good advice. He sounds very wise.”

“He’s done a lot of different things over the years.”

“How eclectic.”

“Eclectic?”

Crap! You let your bimbo face slip. Dial it back. Dial it back.

“Just something I heard Mama-san say once. She says people who have many interests are eclectic.” You raised one finger and put a bubble-gum pop into your words. “I guess that means they have a lot of energy or something since it sounds like electric!”

Perfect. Now he can “well, actually…” you and feel superior. Men love that. Nice save. 

“You’re lying.”

You cocked your head and stared at him with the bald-faced bemusement of a proper airhead. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. Red eyes bored into yours. “You used the word correctly. You knew what it meant.”

When the waiter set the drinks by your elbow, you could have hugged him. You broke off eye contact with Shigaraki, clasped your hands together, and let out an excited squeal. “Oh my gosh this looks so cool! They cut the orange in the shape of a star. How fancy is that?!”

The deadpan stare continued.

You inhaled to puff your chest before carefully placing the drink before him. Steady hands kept the sunset colored gradient exactly as the bartender had prepared it. Then, you gripped your glass, being sure to twist your wrist and show off baby pink nails with tiny glitter bows.

See crusty boy? Nothing here but an empty headed bunny doll made of rack and back. 

“Toasties?” you asked, holding your cup up for the clink.

Never breaking his gaze, your client lifted his drink with his pinky out and tapped your glass as if the sound repulsed him. He stirred the gradient away before sipping his fruity cocktail.

With a long suck, you drained half the lemon-sweet mixer in one go. “Yummy!” you cooed, licking your lips. “How does yours taste, Shigaraki-san?”

“Apparently, not as good as yours.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah! How embarrassing. It’s been a long time since I met a guy like you. When I get nervous I drink more.”

Peeling lips cracked into an amused sneer. “Oh really?”

“Being with someone like you is so exciting.” You took another sip, glancing at him from under mascara coated lashes. “It makes it hard to hold back.”

He laughed. “...and therefore you’ll be blowing through your drinks pretty quick, wracking up a big tab at my expense, right?”

“Maybe…” you teased coyly, tracing the rim of your glass with one finger. ���I mean, it’s your fault for looking so good.”

He snorted. “How do you say that stuff with a straight face?”

“Huh?” You cocked your head the other way and pointed at your underbust. “Straight lace? No, my corset is a criss cross.” You leaned forward, angling your torso for maximum ‘round mound’ effect. “See? It’s all back and forth.”

Shigaraki looked you up and down, the smile dipping back to a frown. “That’s pretty boring though.”

Boring? Oh screw off. You try holding up a one sided conversation, douchebag!

“You don’t like fashion? But you’re dressed so nice!”

“No, what I don’t like is—” he gestured to all of you. “—this. Whatever this is.”

Hair bristling, you sat back in your seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The lines are pretty good lies but that—” he waved at the whole of you again “—is messing it up.” 

Your throat tensed, leaving a touch of gravel in your voice. “I’m sorry, but you’re talking too complicated for a stupid bunny girl like me. Can you dumb it down so I can understand?”

Now the grin was back but it was… pointy? Yes. That was the best way to describe it. All sharp lines and shadows like some creepy monster hiding in the closet. 

“I want that.”

You blinked at him. “Come again?” 

He leaned forward. “That. You. The real you. Not the act.”

“Act? I don’t understand—” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I want the girl from the alley.” 

BANG

In an instant you were on your feet, shaking hands flat against the glossy table top. Manicured nails raked the surface until the glass shrieked under your sweaty palms. The room went silent. Dark shadows obscured your face. With a crack, your head snapped up to reveal a mechanical smile.

“Shigaraki-san, I am having difficulty hearing you over all the noise in this room.” You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder towards the back corner. “If we’re going to continue our little chat I think we should move to a private suite. The champagne room is lovely for cozy conversation. There is a 200,000 yen cover charge and the first bottle of Dom Pérignon is included.”

Curious eyes from all corners of the room stared at the show. Good. Now that he was on blast, he’d have to put up to save face or shut up and clamp down on his prying. Your chest burned with bated breath as you awaited his response.

Shigaraki groped into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a black, leather wallet arced through the air. Wide eyed, you caught it with both hands. He slid out of his seat and onto his feet.

“Sure. I’m game for a bonus stage.”

You glanced down at the thick billfold only to see a hefty clump of 10,000 yen banknotes sticking out the top. Your mouth ran dry. Shoving the wallet back into his hands, you gestured to the bouncer. He bustled over, tapping his key card to the electronic lock. As Shigaraki strolled past you into the private room, you glanced back at Mama-san. Her inscrutable expression disappeared behind the fluttering fan with a sharp snap.

Welp, hopefully that meant she wouldn’t fire you for what you were about to do.

Beyond the tufted leather door, the two of you entered a shrine to leisure and pleasure. Mirrored walls reflected soft, glittering light from the teardrop chandelier above. Upon plush, red carpet, overstuffed sofas crafted from butter soft, ivory leather begged for only the most pampered backsides. On the far wall, a massive television complete with jumbo speakers and a full karaoke set waited patiently for any party sized two to twenty. Glowing copper trim on the seating matched the metal frame of the oversized coffee table. Shigaraki flopped down on the low-backed loveseat. The waiter carried your chilled champagne in on a silver platter before quickly bowing out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, Shigaraki draped his arms across the back of the sofa and flashed you a sneer. "Got something to say?"

Sashaying across the floor, you smoothed the sofa and took your place next to your guest. Graceful as a swan, you lifted the bottle and sliced the foil with your thumbnail. A few quick twists freed the cork from its wire prison. With a roll of your wrist, his flute dangled between your digits. 

POP

The speeding cork grazed his ear.

Golden bubbles arced from the bottle. When his glass was nearly full, you twisted the flow to a stop. Leaning forward flashed him a glance at your cleavage. A naughty smile hovered just above it. You set the bottle by his elbow and stroked the stem of your glass like a porn actress.

"Fill me up, Shigaraki-san?" you teased.

He flushed.

So crusty boy liked it a little dirty, huh? File that away for future reference.

Your guest sloshed the expensive liquid into your flute. The bottle clanked onto the table. He stared at you with a raised brow.

With a sweet smile, you hoisted your drink. The delicate tinkle of crystal on crystal accompanied a syrupy salute. "Toasties~!" 

You shot the champagne like a middle aged manager whining about his alimony payment. The glass hit the table with a hard CLANK. 

"All right, listen up," you growled. “First, I’ve spent a long time pretending 'Miss Sugar-Tits' is my personality and outing me in front of the clients is a dick move. If my regulars see me act like this—” you whipped your hand across your face “—my happy tail doesn’t get paid and you better believe I am all kinds of nasty when I can’t afford to eat.”

Shigaraki sipped his drink with a vulgar grin.

You crossed your arms and scowled. “Second, what is your deal?! You’re bored with the girls, you barely drink the booze, and you don’t want to talk. Why drag yourself out here night after night just to be a massive jerk to a bunch of women who you are paying to suck up to you?!” You huffed and turned your cheek. “Heck of a fetish if it is one.”

“I need to level up my coercion.”

You blinked. “Excuse me, what?”

Cracked nails scraped his neck “Sensei told me I needed practice handling people I don’t like. Hostesses are top tier at that skill. It was useful to learn but pretty boring until I saw you whaling on that dumpster. Not something I expected from the fluff-for-brains bunny girl you pretend to be.” He folded his hands in front of his face, resting his pointed chin on top. With a smirk he added: “The part about tearing down society was pretty interesting. Do you call that ‘hare razing’?”

You grabbed a floppy ear and shook it at him. “I’m a rabbit, not a hare, douchebag.”

He leaned back into the chair, arms open wide. “Whatever. The point is that I like that version of you much better than the act.”

You snorted. “Well literally everyone else disagrees with you on that one. Trust me.”

“That’s because society values sappy platitudes over the straight truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

He reached for his glass, knocking back the drink like you had only moments ago. Though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, when rose to his feet and leered down at you, you felt oddly small by comparison. Something about the glowing gaze left you rigid in your seat. Your breath hitched. Scarlet eyes burned as they rolled over your face.

“That the game is buggy and needs a hard reset.”

You shifted in your seat, looking away from his searing stare. Shaking hands balled in your lap. Ringing filled your ears. Voices from the past cried out from painful memories.

“No need to push yourself sweetie. We’re just happy to have you be our team mascot.” 

“Aw… look at you trying so hard. How cute.”

“Don’t act like such a prude. We all know how you got this internship.”

Bile bubbled up your throat. You choked it down. A weary scoff puffed from quivering lips. “Not wrong there,” you muttered.

He blew out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. “I knew you understood.”

Shaking off a prickling at the back of your neck, you forced a laugh. “But I’m just a bunny girl. I can’t do something as grand as change the world.”

Your guest narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Chcc. Boring.” He groped into his pocket, pulling out his phone. One glance at the screen and he shoved it into hiding again. “I have to leave anyway.”

Liquid rage poured through your body. “Excuse you!? What did you just call me ‘Mr. couldn’t-carry-a-conversation-if-it-had-a-handle?!’”

He raised his chin and sneered at you. “You’re boring when you’re like that. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Sharp nails pricked your palms. “Oh!? Is that so?! Then, pray tell, when am I not boring?”

Shigaraki scoffed. “When you’re the real you.” 

Bristling with fury, you stomped your heel. “Fine! You want the real me?! Screw it.” You jabbed a finger at his face. “You. Me. Paid date. Wednesday at 2 PM. 25,000 yen per hour.”

“Two? Isn’t that early?”

“What’s the matter?” A cruel smirk twisted on your lips. “Ain’t got the stamina?”

He scratched his neck. Red heat crawled across his skin.

You reached towards him, palm out. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes. “So I can put my number in it?”

He dragged out the device and tapped in the unlock code. “This better be worth it,” he declared, dropping it in your palm.

“I’m always worth it.” You zeroed in on his texts, stabbing in your number to the recipient line. There were only two words in the message: “crusty boy”. Pressing “send” so hard it nearly cracked the screen, you shoved the phone back in his chest. “What’s your first name?”

He squinted at you suspiciously. “Why?”

You put your hand on one hip. “You want me to spend the entire date calling you ‘Shigaraki-san’?”

After a long pause he muttered, “Tomura.”

You tapped the name into your contacts. “Got it. “I’ll drop you the details later—” Fluttering lashes accompanied a smile more sadistic than seductive. “—Tomura.”

His breath hitched as the warm flush tipped his ears. 

You hummed, craning your neck. 

His lips curled in a feral snarl. Snatching up the door handle, he nodded to the bottle. “It won’t keep. Finish it yourself.”

“How generous—” you licked your lips “—Tomura.”

As the door slammed shut, you giggled and picked up the champagne. 

Maybe you could trade it in for a sake bomb.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Next Chapter Expected: July 15th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

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[ghost-likes-drawing]

Spiderbit Day 3 Sci-fi | First Meetings

@anonymous-dentist

This is not my best writing but oh well, had no time to reread I'm to busy today to not post now. Also it's Obsessedduo just like fyi...

Cell was wandering across the planet heaving. when was the last time he had had water? probably not in at least 2 earth days? but it was hard to tell. he was smart but he was no good at physics and he was pretty sure time passed differently out here. So 2 earth days for him. Who knows how long for the rest of the universe or even this planet time had passed. He was pretty sure the planet spun at a speed that one side always faced its star. He hadn't even seen the Sun move.

Maybe hoping onto a random supply transport ship was not his best idea. All he had was a metal knife too. no laser knifes. just a regular ass metal knife. that was fine though. he preferred a metal one anyway. he liked the blood. But it was dangerous being out, alone, with nothing but a metal knife, on a planet he didn't recognize. No food. No water. and the last time he saw anyone was the supervisor of that supply stop he got out at who he also killed and ate already… he'd manage something eventually.

Cell Needed to get up. He had tried to keep going. he still was but his body was shut down. He was so hot… that god damn star… god damn planetary rotation. He hears a hover car speeding closer and prays its not a police cruiser.

When he wakes up he's in the back of a van. there's blood on the walls. not his it seems. he is also drenched.

“oh you woke up.” someone proclaims before pushing a water bottle to his mouth, he nearly cokes and forcessses himself to sit up pushing the guy away.

“what the fuck man! you trying to drown me?” Cell manages horsely.

The guy is smiling. he has on eyeliner, and is in all black, including a hoodie on top. what a creep…. in this heat? sure this car was better then outside but it was still miserable. “sorry got excited. didn't think id find anyone out here. let alone someone alive.” he handed over the water before turning to an open med Kit.

Cell sipped. it was fine. average water. The guy was humming and cell reached into his pocket for the knife. he found nothing.

“Im Roier by the way.” the guy, Roier, hummed “would you happen to know anything about disposing of bodies?” he asked placing a sticker on him, it started to change colors… it was probably checking for dfifficiancies in vitamins. it wasn't looking good either.

“why do you need to know?” Cell asked skeptically.

“I have a dead body I need to dispose of.” he gestured to a bag in the corner by the seats. “you're in prison clothes. thought it was worth a shot. and I can make it two corpses if I need to.”

Cell looks over the guy and sees his knife on the far side of him. So he plays along.

“Oh yea okay. I know a few methods? How old.” Cellbit inquired

“I've had the body for like 2 days?”

Okay gross can't eat it then… that's fine he knew of other methods.

“Yea I got a couple. That'll still work then. And this planet is spaced out enough on this side… i actually think I know the perfect spot.”

After 6 hours according to the car’s clock they made it back to the transport station. No ine knew had come to replace the corpse’s shift lucky for them.

Cell helped carry the body to a pit he found while here originally and covered it up. For some reason Roier wanted the bag back so Cell could see the guy they were burring for a bit. He was dressed really nice, his hair was falling out of a jell style. He was fancy.

“Who was this guy anyway? Your Boss?” Cell asked unable to help his curiosity

“My Husband actually. He was bad at it.” Roier said all light leaving his expression.

Cell frowned. He itched. He hated seeing him like that. He wasn't sure why he cared though. It was dumb.

Cell was determined tho. After the guy was as covered as they were going to get he sucked in pulling both mucus and spit from his throat and mouth before spitting right on the grave.

He looked to Roier who had cracked a smile before copping. Roier looked back to Cell and they both just laughed.

After they calmed down Roier commented “you probably need some fresh clothes. You literally look like you just left Jail.”

To Cell’s credit. It had been years. He just couldn't change his clothes. “What are you getting at?”

“Let me take you to the dark side of the planet. I'll get you set up then do what you want” Roier shrugged looking over him carefully.

Cell returned the consideration. He supposed this couldn't go to bad. They didn't seem to have an interest in killing him. He may as well. “Alright. Sounds good to me.”

[felixsramen]

Dating Poly ateez

Is chaotic on another level

WooSan continuously convince you to join in their shenanigans and you always end up getting scolded by Seonghwa and Hongjoong

Mingi is clingy and needs to be around you 24/7 causing woosan to try and scare the poor baby

Yeosang gets compliments 24/7 from everyone

Hongjoong

Hongjoong is always having to be the peacemaker and is quick to discipline

Has given you a lot of talks because of WooSans stupid shenanigans

Has put you in the corner like a child because of WooSan blaming you for things they've done and later having to apologize and punish Woosan when they own up to it

Late night studio cuddles

Hongjoong doesn't sleep well and usually stays in the studio he had built in the house and leaves the door unlocked because he knows you all can get the same way

Going inside his studio and cuddling into his lap and falling asleep while he works

Waking up in the room beside a sleeping Hongjoong

Sleeping in Hongjoongs and Seonghwas room usually means you're pressed between him and Seonghwa

Lots of forehead kisses🥹

Will kiss your forehead a lot because he needs you to know he loves you

Isn't into pda a lot but will hold your hand occasionally in public

Seonghwa

Loves hugging you from behind

Has scolded you for playing ball in the house with WooSan and breaking a vase multiple times and still decides to replace it

Will let you cook with him if you ask

Will show you new recipes and is excited when you show him your own recipes you learned growing up

Will bring you on every grocery trip because you're the only one that doesn't make him get unnecessary stuff for the house

Cuddling you in his and Hongjoongs bed

Has been the subject of many pranks from you and WooSan including pretending that you guys had dented the car and filling up a cup with sprite and soy sauce and telling him it was coke

Refuses anything you offer without you and WooSan drinking or eating it first now

Refuses to let you and WooSan go play laser tag after having to apologize to a whole bunch of moms of 10 year olds about their kids losing to grown adults

Yunho

Hugs anytime of the day

Will hug you in any place is not scared of pda

Picking you up no matter how tall or short or your weight because he just loves giving you affection

Face kisses🥹

Will kiss any part of your face and will kiss you all over your face

Is very into video games and will let you sit in his lap as he plays

Just ask him if you can play video games with him and he won't hesitate to stop in the middle of a game and leave

Will show you step by step how to play it if you've never played

Will let you win but if you get too cocky he will beat you just to bring you down a notch but tells you that you still did great

Always down for rematches with you because he loves seeing how determined you are when he does win

Yeosang

Such a soft boy

He loves cuddling you and will stick up for you in every scenario

You can't help but love his birthmark and kiss it every time you guys cuddle and he gets so flustered from it

Please tell this man how pretty it is because he'd just melt

Doesn't like pda but if he notices your anxious he will pull you to the side and reassure you everything is okay

Loves being near you even if he doesn't say it

May not tell you about how much he loves you but shows it when he can't find the words to say

Has joined you and WooSan on a few pranks after you all begged him to and convinced him by doing his chores for a month

Seonghwa and Hongjoong didn't believe Yeosang took part each time he did and thought you wanted to get out of trouble yourselves

San

Chaos 1 of 2

Usually influenced by Wooyoung and will do anything to please him

Wooyoung convinced you and him it was a good idea for you to go as 3 peas in a pod for Halloween and you regret it everytime you think about it

San is clingy even when Wooyoung isn't around

Wants you to be around him 24/7

Has held you down and forced you to be a pillow and has gotten scolded for it but didn't care and refused to let you up even after the boys tried prying him off you

Can bribe him to do anything with snacks

Has zero shame when it comes to you asking him to do something even if it's embarrassing

Will try to follow you even to the bathroom if you'd just let him

Mingi

Clingy baby🥺

Wants you wherever he is and needs to be touching you at all times even if it's one finger intertwined with yours

WooSan trying to scare him away from you at all times because they think it's funny

Having to comfort Mingi after they try and scare him

Scolding WooSan and they just pout as you hold Mingi closer and glare at them

You constantly reassure him that it's okay when his anxiety gets the best of him and just hold his hands

Loves when you cuddle next to him and run your hands through his hair

Loves pda when you initiate it

Loves skin on skin contact because you're just so warm

Wooyoung

Chaos 2 of 2

Will get you and San into trouble so much

Will also get you out of trouble if it's too much

Needs you to love on him 24/7 because you're just so amazing

Tries declaring his love for you and his boyfriends to everyone that you have to put your hand over his mouth

Does funky little dances because he knows you find them so cute

Will convince you to do anything he asks and just has to beg enough

You and WooSan aren't allowed to drive together anymore because of Wooyoung and yelling out the window causing you to almost crash

Jongho

Loves picking you up to show off his muscles

Sings you to sleep

Will carry you everywhere if you ask

Literally loves showing off his strength to you

You can't help but ask him to break all kinds of different fruits and he'll do it while singing

Picking you up in the middle of plotting with WooSan and ignoring Wooyoung to put you down

He just wants to baby you and take care of you

Nsfw

Hongjoong can be a soft Dom or even a hard Dom depending on the situation

Will either call you his princess or his pretty slut while fucking you depending on the situation

Seonghwa is the same but he prefers being a soft Dom and for Hongjoong to be the hard dom

You're his perfect baby while he leaves kisses on your neck while the boys watch him fuck his fingers inside you

Yunho is a dom and a soft Dom at that

Willing to choke you because you get so dumb over his hands and will definitely call you his gorgeous baby when your eyes roll back at the feeling of his pretty hands around your neck

Yeosang is a switch

He doesn't mind that you call him baby boy when you kiss all over his face while you stroke his cock and San and Wooyoung kiss all over his body

He also doesn't mind calling you his favorite toy while he fucks your mouth and Seonghwa fucks you open

San is a switch

When San Doms he goes all out calling you his favorite plaything and willing to do it all in front of the boys and it can be out of nowhere

When San subs he is such a brat especially with Wooyoung loves when you call him pet he can't help that it makes him cum so fast

Mingi is such a sub and who can blame him

Please call him pretty boy he just can't help but cum in his pants at the name alone

He feels so humiliated by it but can't help but want more as you kiss down his body along with Yeosang

Wooyoung is such a sub and such a brat it takes all 8 of you to fuck the brat out of him

Will get whiny if you're not fast enough for him and try to hump the air if you tie his arms

You and the boys calling him your cumslut and Wooyoung agreeing because he is for you all

Jongho is a dom

He knows you have a strength kink and will use that to his advantage

Will pin you down because he can't help but watch as you squirm under him and close your legs

He will call you darling while he fucks you on full display for the boys

They all love taking pictures and videos of you all cumming and playing them back to jerk off to

Mirror sex for them is so attractive watching as everyone gets a turn fucking each other

Will definitely have you, Wooyoung, and Mingi being passed around because you're all just too gorgeous to not fuck

Please let them do as they please with you