#WHAT ARE THE RULES DAMMIT THIS SHIT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE TO ME
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what i don't get is how Shin got defused but Goku and Vegeta didn't get their tails back
especially Vegeta. that mf didn't lose his tail until way after adulthood, he has no excuse to not have it when reverted to Child
#the saiyan tail erasure is real and i hate it#dragon ball daima#goldic rambles#WHAT ARE THE RULES DAMMIT THIS SHIT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE TO ME#'they got time reversed on their bodies so that's why Kibitoshin defused' ok so give Goku and Vegeta their tails back you cowards#AND EVEN THEN Goku didn't really lose his own tail until he was almost an adult anyway GIVE HIM HIS TAIL BACK#if any of you say Universe 7 saiyans aren't born with tails I'm gonna strangle you#like yeah most of the living saiyans are human/saiyan hybrids but Gohan was still born with a tail#Trunks Goten and Bulla could probably grow tails if they tried hard enough#i'm gonna be so mad if Gohan got reverted as well and HE had his tail while HIS DAD AND VEGETA DON'T#DESPITE BEING PURE-BLOODED SAIYANS#GRRRR GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
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Idk man I just need to hold hands with Kai Satou and I’ll be good
#yttd#he needs kisses yeah#ive just been watching his fondness events from your time to shine and theyre kinda making me feel things like damn i didnt expect#them to be as good as they are i guess it really shows how good these characters are man 😩#the nao ones really got to me cuz she calls him silly and kind and hes like 🥺🍳 just like absolutely clueless what to do with himself#he doesnt know how to socialize or receive compliments hes so unused to that shit#its like dammit give this man some kisses right the fuck now 👺👺👺#then idk he just has a really stupid sense of humor and chases reko around to tell her ghost stories cuz he likes them#and because he likes to be a menace#he accidentally becomes kannas mom and he wears a bucket in his head to match her#idk like i already liked him a lot when i initially played the game and then like recently introduced a friend to it#and she LOVED kai which was unsurprising to me lol and i was just like. yeah actually kai fuckin rules#and his past story made me feral and then yeah i discovered these fondness events and im like#okay so yeah hes the best character#or at least my second favorite character i still gotta keep shin on his pedestal#aaaaghhh its really hard deciding my favorite characters in this game theyre all so good like even the characters im not crazy about#are still really fucking good and yeah just like everyone feels important and well developed its very good#anyways i have such a type for pretty boys with big autism who were raised to be assassins but now theyre house husbands
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Two words: SET UP
THIS WAS A FUCKING SET UP !!!!! and my senses are tingling that Steve has something to do with this. there's a protocol about who gets to go on a mission right? and i feel like you need to be given permission AND briefed. so i don't think it would've been possible for Jessica to be able to get in that quinjet unless someone authorized it (lookin straight at you Steven. kicking you in the balls on my way out too bc i don't trust you). Like, the second Steve spoke randomly, alarm bells started ringing in my head. He's in love with Pocket, and i think he still is AND I THINK, Julius might have approached Steve at some point, given him a proposition like "Hey, if you help me break them up, then you can finally make a move on Pocket and I get to have Barnes, win-win, so are you in?" AND BEING THE OBSESSED IDIOT I DON'T DOUBT HE'D SAY YES RIGHT OFF THE BAT. like doesn't matter if Pocket got her, Steveioli would become the knight and shining armor and comfort her and barf. JUST A THEORY but anyways. Or if Jasper actually managed to sneak in there without anyone knowing, then that's breaking some rule right? god please can she be kicked out already.
but dammit i knew it. i knew something was bound to happen regarding the mission. i didn't take into account Pocket actually not being able to go. But still, the mission is underway, so many possibilities that could happen. Judging by Bucky's reaction when he found out Javier was on the mission with him and immediately contacting Pocket, he is doing his best, and I honestly do believe that he was blindsided and had no idea how Jonas got there. But I will say, I am worried. Because that snake is a manipulative piece of shit and she's going to say something that'd make Bucky spiral (cough steve related cough) and i don't think something horrible is going to happen, but i feel like its going to be something like, Bucky forgetting to communicate etc etc. and when they get back, Bucky is going to be defensive and sigh, I really feel that it's a whole, one step forward, two steps back situation. But I am holding out hope for Bucky becaase he really does seem like he wants to fix this.
EITHER WAY i'm so set on this train i'm in that Steve and Jimmy are both in on this in some way. Like maybe Steve is just a new addition to the plan, like a last minute resort since Bucky's ignoring Judith so she needed help and reinforcements.
OMG I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH ON THE POCKET BEING SICK PART. but hmm, i'm not sure though because she got sick when she smelled it and that's can be a sign of pregnancy but who knows. I saw people saying poisoning, but it must've happened at another time? but still, with food poisoning, the reaction is immediate, like when you drink something, it's usually minutes or a few hours later that you start throwing up. and i don't think you can get poisoning from smelling so it definitely wasn't the Thai food. but it's also way too much of a coincidence so i do think something was done to her for her to be sick.
but, anyway, i apologize for having so many theories hahah it's just how my brain is wired. but again, great writing and i can't wait for more!
— Jnon 🤍
Oh, Jnon!
My beloved.
There is so much I want to say to you in response, but cannot, because I don't want to accidentally divulge anything. Here is what I will say:
"Steveioli" I AM DYING.
It was NOT the Thai food.
Bucky IS doing his best <3 But is that going to be enough?
Steeb and Jerimiah have similar goals, true, but they are not actively working together.
Two parts coming today-- 4:45pm and 5pm EST!
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Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version) - chapter 5!
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Summary: Steve and Eddie can't keep their shit together, so Robin and Dustin take matters into their own hands. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4- Link to Ao3
Word Count: 3.6K
Warnings: Forced proximity baybeeee, talk about implied consent/setting ground rules, Girlboss!Robin, enemies to lovers, slow burn, canon universe (more or less) set before season 4, body swap, they are idiots, ANGST, POV switching
A/N: This will be the last chapter I put on Tumblr, but I will continue the fic on Ao3 for those that would like to follow along! Please see warnings above - there is an implication in this chapter about consent and body swapping that I wanted to get out of the way so that everybody knows that's not where I'm going with this story. Respectful Kings only in this fic!!
“Okay, seriously,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. It was a pose that Eddie hadn’t ever done in his whole life - until now, anyway. “How could you have messed me up that badly.”
Eddie wasn’t sure what he was referring to, until Steve walked towards him and started running his fingers through hair that used to belong to him, smoothing it out and styling as best he could without gel.
“I told you -” Eddie said, attempting to swat Steve’s hands away to no avail. “- not to touch me.”
“Believe me, I don’t want to touch you either, Munson, but you’re making me look like a crazy person.”
“It’s just hair, Steve.” Before Steve could oppose, Eddie felt strands snag against familiar metal. “Ah! Ah, ah! Rings! Ringsringsrings!”
“Quit being a baby,” Steve mocked, releasing Eddie from his grasp and taking a step back to admire his work. “Okay, much better.”
“You do realize I could just as easily mess it up again, right?” Eddie held his hands up and mimicked circular motions above him, demonstrating just how he would do so.
“Do it and I’ll shave your head,” Steve threatened.
“Then I’ll shave yours,” Eddie shot back, taking a step towards Steve.
“God dammit, can you just not be a dick for one second?”
“Nope,” Eddie responded, flashing a devilish, closed-mouthed smile.
“Guys!” Dustin interrupted, effectively shutting them both up. “Are you actually five years old? What’s wrong with you both?”
“Uh, how much time do you have?” Eddie asked.
“This is too weird,” Robin said from behind them. She’d been silent through this whole interaction, pondering all she’d just revealed to Eddie without knowing it. The panic of her secret being out to more than just one person was making her feel sick - Eddie could sense it. “And Dustin’s right, you’re being ridiculous.”
“He started it!” Eddie began, gesturing to Steve. “Look, I - I’m sorry.” He turned to Robin, his voice becoming surprisingly sincere. He really did save the most bitterness for Steve and Steve alone. “He just drives me crazy.”
“Yeah, we know,” Dustin groaned. “And neither of you seem to have a specific reason, either.”
“I have reasons,” Eddie insisted. “Plural.”
“Care to share them with the class?” Robin asked, her words much more pointed than they’d been a few minutes prior.
Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. The truth was far too personal to confess with Steve right there. He attempted to repress the memory, but he felt it swimming closer to the surface of his mind. A football field - No. Stop.
Instead, he honed in on a different memory - the one where, hours after he’d sold weed to Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, Eddie’s friend Rick came knocking at the door.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Rick said as he burst in. “I got busted. Some idiot in a polo ratted me out. What the hell did you do?”
“Busted?” Eddie questioned. “Again?”
The first time Rick had gotten in trouble, he stayed in a jail cell overnight before some distant cousin bailed him out. It had happened a few times, actually, but usually due to Rick’s own stupidity, not Eddie’s.
“Yeah. Busted. Cops showed up today and I just barely was able to talk my way out of it.”
“How did you talk your way out of it?” Eddie asked. He figured that, surely, the cops had Rick’s excuses damn near memorized by that point. His prints had been in the system since he was like eleven years old.
“I told them the guy must have been mistaken, because I’d stopped dealing ages ago. And that the new guy, the one who ratted me out, was the real guy they were looking for.”
“What?!” Eddie exclaimed. He knew Harrington was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be framed for drug dealing. “And they bought it?”
“Relax.” Rick waved his hands dismissively. “You know that guy’s father is some bigshot lawyer, right? He’ll be fine. Charges will disappear, no skin off anyone’s back. Especially mine.”
He was right. That was the worst part. Eddie had always felt guilty about it, but the truth was - Steve was still at school the next day. He hadn’t even had to spend a night in jail. And he’d ratted Rick out for some reason. Some superiority complex disguised as being a good Samaritan, Eddie always figured. Stupid double fucking standard.
Eddie realized it had been far too long since he’d responded to Robin’s question, and took a deep breath.
“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” he finally said, his voice sincere. “All of this just sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” Robin agreed, “but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”
“Woah,” Steve said, surprised at Robin’s language. “Did he say something to you?”
“Robin, I -”
“You manipulated me into giving you a whole bunch of information you don’t deserve to know just so you could feel better about yourself.”
“He what?” Steve asked, growing more agitated.
“Can I just -”
“No, stop,” Robin said, backing away. “Both of you. I don’t want to talk to you -” she said, pointing at Eddie, “- and I don't want to talk to the guy who looks like you. Just let me go in the back room for a bit, and hold the fort out here, okay? Eddie’s like, weirdly good at this job anyway.”
“He is?” Steve asked.
“Don’t be so surprised,” Eddie replied. “A goldfish could do this job better than you.” Robin groaned.
“You know what, Munson?” she said. “You got what you wanted - I now have an opinion on you.”
With that, she closed the door behind her and left the boys to fend for themselves.
-
“Jeez,” Dustin said. “I’ve never seen her angry like that before.”
Steve hadn’t either. Generally, Robin was a pleasant person who saw the best in people. She knew how to dish out plenty of sarcasm, but she also knew where the line was between snark and genuinely being mean. If she thought Eddie was an asshole, then he was. Steve felt a spark of validation in his own opinion, but it was quickly overcome by anger.
In an instant, Steve was in Eddie’s face again, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt and pushing him against the counter.
“What did you do, Munson?” Steve questioned, rage bubbling within him. Steve noticed Eddie’s body was far stronger than he’d anticipated, and a few inches taller. He was able to hold Eddie (in Steve’s body) with ease, so much so that Eddie (once again, in Steve’s body) had to be on his tiptoes. Or, Steve’s tiptoes. Goddammit, this whole thing was a mindfuck.
“I - I didn’t - nothing, I swear!” Eddie answered. His bravado had melted away into something entirely different. Complete and total remorse. He was almost pathetic in the way he’d succumbed to Steve’s intimidation immediately. He knew he deserved it. “I mean, I - I may have asked her some things out of curiosity -”
“What kind of things?” Steve pressed, his grip tightening.
“Not what you’re thinking,” Eddie insisted. “You would have done the same thing if your coworker casually started talking about being tortured.”
Steve’s eyes widened in understanding, and as quickly as he had grabbed Eddie, he’d let him go.
“She told you about that, huh?” His voice was low and serious.
“Among other things,” Eddie admitted. He turned to Dustin. “Did this guy really save your life?”
“Yeah, a few times,” Dustin answered. “Well, there were the demodogs at the junkyard, and then the demodogs under the field, oh - and when he totally stood up to Billy for us, although I guess Max was kinda the one that saved us, there. And then I saved him from the Russians. We’ve all kind of saved each other's lives pretty consistently, I think,” he concluded.
“I - you - what?” Eddie stuttered, mentally unable to comprehend any of the things that he’d heard today.
“Yeah, I don’t think he needed that many details,” Steve replied.
“There’s a lot of shit in this town that most people don’t know about,” Dustin said with a shrug.
“Okay, but why do you know about it?” Eddie wondered.
“My friend Will,” Dustin answered. “You probably remember that whole thing. When he disappeared?”
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie nodded. “The kid got lost in the woods or something.”
“Yeah,” Dustin replied. “Except he wasn’t actually lost in the woods.” Eddie’s brow furrowed, and Steve grew irritated by how much information they were disclosing.
“Okay,” Eddie acknowledged. “So that explains you. What does Harrington have to do with it?”
“Wrong place, wrong time I guess,” Steve muttered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I personally love fighting hell monsters and getting the shit kicked out of me every so often, but -”
“Sorry to have missed that,” Eddie teased. “I would have loved it, too.”
“Stay in my body long enough and you’ll probably get to experience it yourself,” Steve joked. It was a moment in which the two of them once again laughed at the other, and not in a mean way. The moments were few and far between, but they were there. Steve wondered why they couldn’t just be civil.
“Okay, so,” Eddie said with a sigh. “What now?”
“We were trying to come up with a way for us to switch back,” Steve answered.
“Oh, is that all?” Eddie mocked. “I suggest we start with finding a witch.”
“That’s somehow worse than Steve’s weatherman idea,” Dustin replied. “Obviously, we’ll figure out a way to switch you guys back, but I think there’s something a lot more important that we need to do first.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve wondered. He couldn’t think of a single thing more important than getting out of this nightmare.
“Ground rules,” Dustin responded, as if it were obvious. “You’re in each other’s bodies. You are living each other’s lives. If you’re not careful, people could seriously get hurt.”
“Like Robin,” Steve reminded them all, nodding towards the still-closed door.
“Like Robin,” Dustin agreed. “But also with the two of you. Did you guys talk about any of this before you committed identity fraud?”
“Is it identity fraud if -”
“Yes,” Dustin answered Eddie’s question before he could finish asking it.
“We talked about some of it,” Steve responded. “That’s why I went to school and he came here.”
“Yeah, we set a rule already,” Eddie added. “He keeps me from flunking out again, and I keep his job. Seems like we both succeeded.”
“Okay, then why did Steve totally blow his cover immediately at school?”
“I didn’t immediately -”
“Yes you did,” Dustin insisted. “Everyone thinks Eddie showed up today on a new drug because he didn’t remember a damn thing about his own life.”
“That’s because it’s not my life,” Steve replied. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Because you were supposed to talk to each other!” Dustin shouted. “Jesus Christ, you both are impossible. You’re making this so much more difficult -”
“He’s right,” Eddie sighed. “It’s my fault, I think.”
“You think?” Steve repeated. Eddie scoffed.
“Come on, dude, I’m trying to be decent here.” Eddie seemed genuine enough, but sometimes it really felt like one step forward and two steps back with the guy. Like, he had brief moments of authenticity followed by an hour of bullshit. “I kicked you out last night, and I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re just lucky my mom didn’t see me like this,” Steve mumbled, wondering when Eddie was going to turn back this time.
“Yeah I - I know,” Eddie continued. “So, we talk about it. Henderson, how do we do this?”
“Well, I’m not an expert,” Dustin said. He started pacing the room, thinking so hard Steve could almost hear the gears turning.
“I’ll start,” Steve said. “Stay away from Robin.”
“Like, entirely?” Eddie questioned. “I can’t do that if I’m working here. I know, I fucked up earlier, but lesson learned. Robin’s cool. She doesn’t deserve my bullshit. It won’t happen again.”
Okay, so he was being genuine for longer than a moment this time. Any moment now it would crash. Steve braced himself for it. As his anxiety grew, his need for a cigarette did, too.
“Fine,” he agreed. “Here’s another one - no smoking, no exceptions.”
“Aw, come on,” Eddie whined.
“Should be easier for you than me,” Steve continued. “Considering I’m now addicted again. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Next time I’ll make sure I quit before I swap bodies with you, Harrington.”
“It’s a good point,” Dustin interjected. “About drugs. If you’re gonna do anything that could affect the body you’re in, you should get permission first.”
Steve did the thing he wasn’t supposed to do - he thought about the shower thing. They’d at least had a discussion about that. Steve quickly glanced at Eddie, and had a sneaking suspicion his mind went to the same place.
They were interrupted by the door to the back room opening, and Robin re-emerging into the store.
“I have a rule to add,” she announced.
“You’ve been listening in?” Steve asked.
“Well, yeah,” Robin admitted. “The walls are thin, and you guys are loud. Plus, I’m with Dustin on having to talk about this stuff, and I have a rule to add.”
“What is it?” Eddie wondered.
“No dating as each other,” she declared, staring directly at Eddie. "No kissing, no hook-ups."
“Woah, why are you looking at me?” he asked, defensively. “I’m not the one screwing around.”
“Hey,” Steve said. “She’s got a point.”
“Right, because I won’t be able to help myself around all the girls that line up at the Harrington house,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.
There he was - the Eddie that Steve wanted to slap across the damn face.
“I’m serious -”
“I know!” Eddie replied. “I’m serious, too. That would be fucked up for either of us to do. It’s a good rule, let’s move on.”
….Okay. Now Eddie was being reasonable again. Steve was truly at a loss with this man.
“You don’t spend each other’s money,” Dustin said, moving on as Eddie had suggested.
“No tattoos or other big changes in appearance,” Robin added.
“Nothing illegal, either,” Steve warned - the suggestion pointedly at Eddie.
“Okay, you can fuck right off,” Eddie responded. “You don’t even know why I got into selling drugs in the first place.”
“Money, right?” Steve asked. He didn’t mean it in a derogatory way, he truly thought that was it.
“Yeah, money,” Eddie confirmed. “Because my uncle and I don’t have it, and it costs money to live. Something you’ve probably never had to think about.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve snarked. “That’s why I’m working this shit job.”
“It’s not a shit job!” Eddie yelled. “You have it so goddamn easy -”
“Then why didn’t you apply here?” Steve wondered. “You could, just as easily as I did.”
“They wouldn’t hire me,” Eddie remarked. There was a sadness to his voice that Steve didn’t expect, and suddenly he was thinking about all the offhand comments he’d experienced throughout his day as Eddie Munson. All the staring, the judgment, the way he felt like everybody was always talking about him, and the way his feelings likely weren't too far off.
“Maybe if you hadn’t tried selling drugs, first,” Steve retorted, regretting it immediately. Eddie groaned.
“Jesus H. Christ! Do you guys see?” He gestured at Dustin and Robin, who looked extremely awkward. “I’m not even trying to start shit, here.”
“Honestly, you’re both pissing me off,” Dustin said.
“Yeah, me too,” Robin agreed. Her and Dustin’s eyes flickered to the back room at the same time, and Steve could practically see the same lightbulb illuminate over both their heads.
“Hey Steve - I think I left a tape in the back last week, could you go get it for me?” Dustin asked. Steve was confused at first, then shrugged.
“I guess. Which one?”
“I can’t remember the title. It’s dark blue.” Steve headed towards the back room, but was stopped by Robin.
“Uh-uh, you actually can’t go in there,” she said, pointing at the sign on the door that said employees only.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Steve asked, fully annoyed with their plotting.
“Just trying to follow the rules, Harrington. Come on, Eddie, go on in.” Eddie also seemed suspicious, but did as told.
“Uhh, okay. Dark blue tape?” He headed into the back room, and then Robin pushed Steve in behind him. She closed the door and locked it, then turned to a grinning Dustin.
“That’s what you were going for too, right?”
“Robin, you’re way too good for Steve.”
“I know,” she smiled.
“Hey, what the fuck?” They heard Steve’s voice through the door.
“Why does this room lock from the outside?” Eddie’s voice echoed. Dustin joined Robin at the door and shouted back.
“We’re sick of you guys, so you’re staying in there until you either stop fighting or kill each other.”
“Whichever comes first,” Robin snickered.
“I hate you both so much,” Eddie’s voice said.
“We know!” Robin and Dustin replied in unison.
-
“Well, this sucks,” Eddie said as he sat down in front of the TV. “I can’t believe we both fell for that.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Steve agreed. Eddie absentmindedly started to pick up tapes and put them in the VHS so he could rewind them. “Are you actually doing work right now?”
“Steve, I would rather do literally anything than talk to you right now,” he replied.
“Fine,” Steve scoffed. “Robin wasn’t kidding when she said you were better at this job than I am.”
“Yeah, well…” Eddie’s voice trailed off as he started watching one of the movies in reverse. He’d seen it before, but not this way. This job was actually really cool. Steve had it good, here.
Eddie started to like Steve’s life. He liked his job and his best friend and he was suddenly sad that at some point most likely this would all come to an end. Eddie would just be Eddie again.
He felt the urge return- the self-sabotaging ache that brought him trouble over and over again. Once, he heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result. Eddie would have gladly taken the label of being insane, except he didn’t expect a different result every time he did something he knew he shouldn’t. So what the hell did that make him?
He wanted to ask Steve about Robin - specifically what she had told him without realizing it - but he knew that was over the line. He wasn’t even curious for the reasons most people would have. Eddie didn’t care about Robin’s sexuality in the slightest. He cared that Steve knew, and he didn’t say anything to anyone. Most of the other jocks at school that Eddie lumped Steve in with would have jumped at the chance immediately to spread that information like wildfire, but Steve didn’t.
It was the first time Eddie admitted to himself that there was a strong chance Steve really had changed.
“I don’t think we’re going to switch back today,” Steve said after a while.
“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie agreed.
“So, we should talk,” Steve continued.
“I thought we did already,” Eddie replied. “No sex, drugs, or felonies, right?” Steve sighed.
“I shouldn’t have - shit. I shouldn’t have said that before. Sorry, man.”
Eddie stayed focused on the TV. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Steve, and if he could, it would just make him feel like shit for not trusting him sooner. Lose-lose. Once again.
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Eddie responded.
They’d gone a whole three minutes without raising their voices at each other, so far. Progress.
“I meant, like, we should talk about tomorrow,” Steve continued.
“What’s tomorrow?”
“Uh, you have band practice, right?”
Eddie dropped the tape he was holding and looked up.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Any chance you kill monsters and secretly play guitar?”
“Not unless air guitar counts,” Steve admitted. “Although, I do play a pretty mean air guitar -”
“Steve, shut up, this is serious.” He took Corroded Coffin very seriously. Hellfire was his baby, sure, but his band was like - well, it was his one chance to be someone else for a change. He could be whoever he wanted on stage, separate from the person people knew at school.
Performing at The Hideout used to be the one time he pretended to be someone he wasn’t. How times had changed.
“Okay, sorry,” Steve responded, his hands up in surrender. “Could you cancel? Say you’re sick or something?”
“No, we’ve got this gig on Tuesday and if we miss it we might lose our spot,” Eddie replied. Their weekly performance at the dive bar across town was all that they had, other than practices in Gareth’s garage. They’d worked their asses off to perform in front of five drunks once a week, and Eddie would be damned before he’d let Steve Harrington take that away from him.
“Okay, so -” Steve seemed to really contemplate different ways to get around this, which was admirable. He was…complying. “- you could wear, like, a full body suit and mask or something and just go up there in my body and play.”
Eddie stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering if the absolutely bonkers idea actually could work.
“That would be…weird,” Eddie responded.
“But it would work,” Steve said with a shrug.
“Let’s call it plan B,” Eddie decided.
“So, what’s plan A?”
Eddie nervously ground his teeth back and forth for a moment, looking at himself up and down and wondering just how effective muscle memory was.
“Plan A is that I give you a bit of a crash course, Harrington.”
(Read the rest on Ao3!)
_________________________
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#steddie#steddie fic#eddie and steve#eddie munson x steve harrington#st fanfic#writing#me#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#freaky friday steddie's version
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Been asking around random bmc blogs to see what their favorite bmc song is. So you’re next! A full rant and everything would be nice >:)
I'm answering this 3 weeks late. sorry. don't @ me
Shoot, okay, that's a toughie. I think I'm going to go by "odds of me skipping when it comes up on shuffle" rules. So unfortunately, that immediately knocks out many of them - The Play (obviously...), Do You Wanna Hang; both Christine songs (SORRY CHRISTINE I HAVE NO EXCUSE) (i just like singing dude songs ;-;); the instrumentals. Do You Wanna Ride may well be called Do You Wanna Singreallyhigh :/
More Than Survive is the best for when I want to sing along loudly and flex my "acting" but it's also a million years long and starts out with porn, making it harder to play in mixed company.
Two Player Game - OK, so this one is good but. But. If we're including the big band version in our ranking, it might manage to eke its way out on top.
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I'm calling this an unfair advantage since the other songs, if similarly arranged, might also slap this hard. Might.
Michael in the Bathroom and the Pants Song are on the same tier for me (SORRY AGAIN!!!) in that they are both very easy to get stuck in your head, you gotta get weirdly heartfelt singing them, and you really gotta be in the mood for them specifically. MitB is iconic for a reason but I'll skip it more often than not if I want to keep my energy up (which is usually the only reason I listen to music whoops). Loser Geek Whatever is also in here if it's the Broadway version. I know in my heart that the Christine songs also belong here.
Halloween, Smartphone Hour, Pitiful Children, and hell, Be More Chill Pt. 1 - These are all bops that are really plot important but that also means you gotta be willing to engage with the story if you want to jam out about it. I dunno if that makes sense? But like you can't sing along to Halloween without paying attention to what's going on with Jake's house during the song. (Sync Up may also fit in here but like. it doesn't go quite as hard as these 4)
Upgrade also fits in with the above category because um. Sorry to all again but. I used to love the first half and then just skip it as soon as the SQUIP verse was done. Again, for singing-along hype building.
So I think that narrows us down to Voices in My Head and the SQUIP Song.
Voices in My Head is an all-mood all-ages fun ditty. It's got heart, dammit. Does anyone not like this one?
But the SQUIP song......... That's the moneymaker, I think. I used to not be able to get my voice low enough, but either I've gotten better at it or I've stopped caring. This one is just fucking FUN. BUT. But but but but. But it has to be the original cast recording.
The Broadway version, someone send me an ask and I'll give my opinions on it. tl;dr they cut out a section of the song for NO reason.
HOWEVER, ON THE FIRST HAND. I have incorporated the Broadway version's little fake audio glitches into it whenever I sing the SQUIP Song. That's good shit.
If you were asking me what my fav is to listen to and not to sing along to, I couldn't tell you. If BMC is playing and I'm not singing along, there is something wrong with me. I don't say that jokingly. That's literally how I realize I'm in a bad mood/really tired is if I'm not singing in the car lol.
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THE GAYEST GAY I SAW THE OTHER DAY Or: 2020 Grammys VLive PART TWO
Where was I? Oh yeah.
ORIGINAL CONTENT FOR TRUTH AND CONTEXT HERE:
And we'll pick it up around 9:35.
He's about to go in, kids. It's at about 9:40 in the original VLive which is in part one of this post.
AND THERE HE GOES. Jeon Jungkook, main singer of BTS and worldwide pop idol, without a Jimin to settle him:
Jimin does not even blink. Hobi is unbothered, living as he did for YEARS with a Koo in Jimin's bed.
At one point, somewhere earlier in there, Koo also went in on Joonie's hair and Jimin just glanced fondly in his general direction like "dammit these things are hard on my baby". Jimin handles "these things" (publicity, sitting still in general) much more easily than his man and he's quite accepting of that. Also he SAW USHER SO.
Fair's fair. Jimin gets to eyeball his crush, Koo gets to fix Namjoon's hair.
BUT OH WAIT it's time for... champagne!
Teleport Jeon to the rescue of the camera and his own sanity.
I think we can all agree that Jimin is absolutely worth staring at, but see the set of Kookie's jaw? Our mans is not happy because Jimin-ssi realized that he was Out Of Order (as per Bangwatch Behavior At The Grammys Protocol For Married Couples) and moves to the opposite side.
It caused enough distress for Jungkook's tongue to try to make an escape via his cheek. I actually felt bad for both of them by this time, because while Jiminie handles placement issues better, kinda, he would always much rather be near his man. Especially when said man is looking FINE LIKE THAT and also suffers from either anxiety or boss-level ADHD. Jimin is Jungkook's center.
Which: that said I have always wondered why Jimin is the moon and Jungkook is the sun when the opposite is actually true. Hasn't made sense to me for several years now. ANYWAY.
Look at them. All of them look amazing but I'm just busy noticing the champagne glasses. And also that, damn my image limit, Jimin went through two glasses in rapid succession and might have gone for a third. Because he too is tired and stressed and elated and he knows what's coming up next.
STAMP COLLECTING IS GONNA HAPPEN. Philately and stress release. Both of those things.
Well fuck an executive order, Jungkook still has control of the camera and two three glasses of champagne ingested rapidly are at play and there is no frame that does not need the Jeon-Parks in it. Especially when there's a camera lens through which they can stare at each other.
They think they're slick. They ain't slick. Fruity as hell but not slick in the least. Keep your A/B/O fanfiction to yourself (Jimin would be alpha in any event).
Jimin is also Over This Shit by now. Jungkook has moved the camera totally to highlight Jimin while ostensibly focusing on Tae, who is trying his damnedest to make a speech and is very cute and also pretty, but Jimin knows what his boyfriend is doing and obliges. I ran out of image space but there's a kissy face right about here, too. Jimin just.... loses it for a few seconds and it's adorable.
The Jeon half of the household agrees with me.
Oh. Let the touching commence.
"Fixing his jacket," Jimin? PFFFTTT HE WAS JUST TOUCHING THOSE PECS THAT'S ALL IT WAS AND THEN
AND THEN JUNGKOOK GOES "Thank you" in English and it is THE CUTEST. They're just eyefucking now. Hobi needs another drink. And Yoongi, well. Yoongi ain't care, he is not even surprised, it's just Friday at the Jeon-Park house.
Seokjin, though. He knows the rules. And Namjoon is not, this time, for once in his LIFE, in the middle. Exactly. FIVE GUYS ARE IN THE MIDDLE and no one is in the middle and this is what happens, PD-nim, when a Jeon goes rogue and STILL HAS CONTROL OF THE CAMERA.
So they wrapped it up.
Because what other choice was there, sixteen minutes and twenty seconds into the Story Of True Love Kept Apart By Closetry And Public Decorum? You can't fight the War of Hormone with that much champagne. It's not possible. What you do is smile pretty and disperse, politely, lest there be another kissing-noises-on-video moment.
I need David Attenborough to narrate the entire mating dance, for real.
#jungkook#jimin#ot7#post grammys vlive#2020 grammys#sixteen minutes in the closet is what this is#jikook#kookmin#the jeon parks#minkook#mingguk#jmjk#jkjm#jeikei more like jaygay get into it#if you don't see the chemistry you cannot graduate#jikook just jikooking nbd#must be thursday at the jeon park house#teleport jeon#satellite jeon#champagne#usher#namjoon in the middle#it's my favorite show#there's always a hobi#yoongi's face is glorious throughout#in this house we watch original content#for truth and context#people who don't have doorknobs where their cerebrums should be
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Chapter 4: The Sky is Just a Skip Away ~Post-Trial~
//Return of the DKronpa!
//It has been a looooooong long time since I last uploaded to this series. I really regret leaving it for so long but unfortunately a lot got in the way of writing and I just could leave it where it was. I’m happy to say though that I’ll be back to working on it a little more consistently in my spare time.
//I still have to iron out specifics for chapter 5, but it is for the most part complete. Please be patient and as always thank you for reading!
“Ahahahah! You guys never fail to pull through! Once again you were correct, the killer of Doi Kurohiko was indeed Junpei Yokozawa, the Ultimate Blogger!” Monokuma exclaimed. Yokozawa-san’s shoulders slumped, and he held his head in one hand upon hearing the confirmation.
“So, it really was me…shit.” He said, his voice completely devoid of any kind of emotion. It was completely broken, apathetic. We had seen three other people have to accept they lost the trial, but this one was different. Yokozawa-san, he…
“This is bullshit.” Okanaya-kun cursed. “Monokuma, are you seriously saying that Yokozawa’s the culprit when it was fuckin’ Graves’ fault?! How the fuck is that fair?!”
Monokuma tilted his head, “Fair? I think it’s pretty fair. After all, you guys all know how the rules work. You’re all free to use those rules however you want. Technically, Karma Graves is a smarty pants for being able to come up with a great plan like this! You can technically be responsible for as many deaths as you want and be unable to get punished for it!”
“The rules shouldn’t be allowed to be used like that…! D-dammit!” Kobo kicked the podium.
“Hey! I’m tolerant to a lot of things, but if you damage the trial room in the slightest way, I won’t hesitate to punish you!” Monokuma warned.
“Shut up, bastard! You think I’m gonna fuckin’ let this one slide!? I don’t give a shit about the official ruling, Yokozawa ain’t at fault here!”
“Stop it, Okanaya-kun. You’re just embarrassing yourself at this point.” Yokozawa-san said.
“What?! You can’t be alright with this!”
“Of course, I’m not. I’m pissed off as well…but it’s not a big deal. Seriously, just let it go. I just gotta know though…why did you do this, Graves-san? Why all of this? If you knew that Kurohiko-kun and Asano-san were planning to die, why do all of this?”
Graves-san stared at Yokozawa-san with an empty gaze, “because there’s no way I was going to wait another trial to pass by before killing you.”
What? What the hell is she saying?
“So, your goal was to kill Yokozawa from the start? Then why not just fess up the truth from the start? What about those moments where you were preventing us from reaching the truth?” Sly-san said.
“…I so wish Junpei could have stayed alive but that stopped being an option after everything I learned recently. My lab is super useful, you know? I wonder if the mastermind set it up like that on purpose? Did they maybe manipulate the situation so I would act like this, and if that’s true, is it true for all the other motives too? Curious. Suuuuuper curious.”
“Th-the fuck are you talking about…?” Okanaya-kun stepped back instinctively. The more Graves-san spoke, the less sense she was making, and the darker her expression got. Does she know something that the rest of us don’t know? Is there something in her lab?
“Could it be…did you find something out about our situation?” Kurosaki-san asked.
Graves-san stared intently at Kurosaki-san before smirking, “Shouldn’t you already know that Yuuki?” She said with an almost teasing tone.
Kurosaki-san stared at her cautiously, then for a split second his eyes widened. I didn’t miss that look of horror in his expression before he tipped his hat down to hide his face, “How much do you know, huh? What did you find out?”
“I know plenty about you~!” She said in a sing-songy tone, “What was it you introduced yourself as again? The ‘Ultimate Explorer’? What a cool title when you get down to what it means, but I wonder what the point was in lying to everyone about that?”
Huh?
“L-lying?” Kirishima-san repeated.
“Yuuki Kurosaki isn’t the Ultimate Explorer. Judging from his talent lab, it’s got absolutely nothing to do with that. You should really think through some stuff more, the Ultimate Theorist should have been able to figure out I might have security cameras in my lab.”
…Theorist?
“Kurosaki.” Sly-san stepped towards him.
“Ублюдок!” Kurosaki-san exclaimed and before any of us could react, he had Graves-san pinned against the trial stand. “You would dare?! Do you even realise what you’ve done by saying that?! You could have very well killed us all!”
“Ahahahahah! That doesn’t matter!” Graves-san laughed almost carefreely.
“Doesn’t matter?!” He spat.
Before anyone blinked, Graves-san had Kurosaki-san on the floor, pinning his arm to his back and held it in place with her foot. “Let me clarify something, we can kill each other as much as we want, and it doesn’t mean a damn thing in the end. Do what you want everybody because it’s totally fine as long as we’re in this killing game!”
“Y-you’ve lost your fuckin’ mind…!” Okanaya-kun said.
��On the contrary, knowing what I know I can finally stop holding back! I’ve been so stressed out that I was worried about what I might do when the pressure gets to be too much, but I’m totally relaxed now! I can do whatever I want!”
“Those words…you think we’d ever let you run wild and do what you please?” Amaterasu-san’s stance changed as if ready to pounce onto Graves-san.
Graves-san tutted and shook her head. “So aggressive. Don’t make me break Yuuki’s arm. That would just leave him super vulnerable for anyone to pick him off. And let’s be honest without him and Ryuu, you all would’ve gotten us all killed by the second trial.”
“Go ahead and try, I’ll separate your head from your body before you can do it.” Sly-san threatened, reaching into his hoodie.
“Cool! A trial right after we just finished one? I wonder if that’s a record? What do you think Monokuma?”
“Upupupupu~ It certainly would be the fastest it’s taken.” Monokuma added. Is he really not going to stop this? Would he really just them all fight each other like this?
“Stop it! All of you!” Yokozawa-san exclaimed. Everyone’s heads turned to him. His eyebrows were turned downwards, almost like he was getting impatient. Annoyed, even. Like everybody arguing right now was just some kind of inconvenience to him. He just turns to Monokuma, “Hey. Are you sure this is alright? I’m not sure if this is right.” Is he…talking to Monokuma?
“Wellllllll~ It’s definitely a new experience. But shouldn’t we try to always experience something new? New can be good and fresh! And it’s getting very exciting!” Monokuma said.
“So, you think it’ll…” Yokozawa-san’s voice trailed off, as if the rest of the sentence was already obvious.
“When does it not? Don’t you stress so much!” Monokuma responded.
“If that’s the case then I have no objections to all of this. But let’s make it quick, and I don’t want one of those damn chains dragging me away. I’ll cooperate and all that, so just let me walk there myself.” Yokozawa-san said.
“Y…Yokozawa-kun? Is it me, or are you acting very strangely casual about all of this?” Kirishima-san asked. Yokozawa-san’s eyes passed over all of us, taking in each of our perplexed expressions, until he landed on the only one who didn’t seem confused at all by his tone or words.
“I assume you understand it’s better for you to keep what you know to yourself. Right?” Yokozawa-san asked Graves-san.
She just grinned and nodded, “Of course. I’m not going to let this pass me by.” Graves-san said.
“Hold on now! I still don’t get what’s going on! Yokozawa, why the hell’re you talking so casually to Monokuma?! How the hell can you be so calm about the fact you’re about to die?! And most importantly…the fuck’re you and Graves talkin’ about?” Okanaya-kun badgered him. One question coming quickly after another. Each other, making Yokozawa-san’s expression sourer and sourer.
Graves-san could only laugh. A full belly-laugh that filled the trial room. “Awww dude, don’t you understand it? Of course, Junpei is being so casual with Monokuma. Wouldn’t you talk pretty casually with a good co-worker?” Everyone falls silent, staring at Graves-san or Yokozawa-san. Dumfound. That was the only word for everyone’s faces.
“Co-workers?” Sly-san almost whispers.
“Co-workers!” Graves-san repeats cheerfully, “That was one of the things I found out thanks to my talent lab! Turns out Junpei wasn’t actually trying to figure out the wi-fi password the whole time he was in his talent lab. He was talking to Monokuma a whoooole bunch! Talking about progression of the killing game and about their goals and everything. Yeah…Junpei Yokozawa is actually on Monokuma’s side. Always has been.”
“Tch!” Junpei clicked his tongue, “You heard all of that? What a pain in the ass. No wonder you’re acting so well informed.”
“Hey.” Kobo-kun says, his voice deeper than usual, “You better refute what was just said.”
“Graves-san, it’s already annoying that you told them all that, but in the future be careful with what kind of information you reveal. If you tell everyone stuff too soon, you’ll probably just end up getting yourself killed and you don’t want that.”
Graves-san scoffs, “As if it matters.”
“Hey! Of course, it matters! The killing game is very serious business, so you better not think of throwing your life away so easily, got it?!” Monokuma snaps.
“Exactly! What Monokuma said!” Kirishima-san agrees.
“Don’t agree with him.” Amaterasu-san says.
“Isn’t this an exception?” Kirishima replies.
I’m sure I would have missed what happened next if I blinked. All of a sudden, Sly-san’s hand was wrapped tightly around Yokozawa-san’s neck, nearly holding him off the ground. I’d never seen Sly-san make an expression like this before- sure I had seen him angry before but this felt completely different.
His eyes were laser-focused on Yokozawa-san. The veins in his hands were protruding from the tension along his arm and in his grip but the rest of the features were eerily neutral. No smile. No scowl. No emotion whatsoever.
This must be the Ultimate Assassin’s face of bloodlust.
“Enough of the comedy act. Talk. What is the relationship between you and Monokuma, in full.” He says evenly. So calmly that it’s unsettling.
“Herr Knives, stop.”
“Not until he starts answering.”
Yokozawa-san grins, his voice is breathy are full of cracks, “Y…you think you can make me talk? I’m gonna die anyway…you gonna kill me?”
Sly-san’s free hand dips below the neckline of his hoodie, “I’ll certainly make it more painful than whatever execution Monokuma can think up, that’s for sure. So, I’ll ask again: what’s the full relationship between you and Monokuma?”
Yokozawa-san’s eyes drift over to Monokuma who is watching this happen silently from his chair. The lack of response seems to be enough of an answer for Yokozawa-san, “Fine.”
Sly-san’s eyes lose their intensity almost instantly and he drops Yokozawa-san. He stumbles and supports himself on the trial podium, rubbing the bruising that’s already beginning to show on his neck.
He takes a second to gather his thoughts before speaking, “There’s only so much I’m really able to tell you all, so I’ll give you the simple version. Like Graves-san says, I work with Monokuma- or rather, the person controlling Monokuma. I guess you could say I’m like a…middleman. Someone that can keep an eye on the game itself from the inside.”
“What exactly does that entail?” Kurosaki-san asks.
“To sum it up, my job was to report back anything interesting I learned that Monokuma’s controller might have missed whilst dealing with other matters. And if all else failed, I was to either instigate or commit a murder.”
“And you and Monokuma…who is it you work for? Some kind of organisation? Are you just a pair that works together that orchestrated this by yourselves?” I ask. Yokozawa-san glances over at Monokuma, as if asking for permission.
“Now now. You guys don’t want all the spoilers, do you? Where’s the fun in that?!” Monokuma sing-songs, “If you reveal all the secrets too early, then what’s the point in playing the game until its ending? You guys have start using your noggins!”
“Shut up! We deserve some fucking answers after all we’ve been through!” Okanaya-kun argues.
“You guys haven’t earned those answers at all! You’re lucky I even gave you that much info! Don’t you know that exposition dumps at the end is my thing?!” Monokuma’s claws protrude further from his paw as he speaks.
“If Monokuma says I can’t speak anymore then I’ve gotta listen. He’s my boss after all.” Yokozawa-san says.
“He’s going to kill you in a moment, you do realise that, right?” Amaterasu-san says.
Yokozawa-san shrugs nonchalantly, “I know the risks. But it’ll all be worth it as long as we reach our goal in the end. We are still on track to do so, right?”
“Yep! Just leave it all to me and everything will be smooth sailing.” Monokuma promises.
“Then it’s all good. Nothing left to say…well, almost nothing,” He looks towards Graves-san, “I feel sorry for you the most. Knowing what’s coming next, I regret not being able to be there to try and help you circumvent it. Still, you’ve made your bed. I’m sure you’ll learn to sleep in it.”
Graves-san doesn’t say anything, the smile plastered on their lips doesn’t drop. They just stare at Yokozawa-san, unmoving. It seems the conversation is over to the both of them, even if it ends cryptically.
“If that’s all, then it’s time to get the show on the road, don’t you think?! I’ve prepared a very special punishment for our Ultimate Blogger, Junpei Yokozawa!”
Yokozawa-san sighs, “God, you’re not gonna take it easy on me then? I guess I’m not surprised. It wouldn’t be fair for me to participate and have you guys treat me any differently. In that case I’m at least gonna accept it gracefully,” Yokozawa-san raises a hand into the air and with a defiant smirk, flips off the whole room, “Don’t go forgetting my name or my face. I’ll make you all regret it.”
“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! Iiiiiiit’s PUNISHMENT TIME!!!!!!”
-Game Over-
-Junpei Yokozawa has been found Guilty!-
-Commencing Execution-
Like clockwork, it repeats. When Yokozawa-san has been dragged away in chains, the monitor flashes on to display him sat in a dimly lit room, the only light source being from a computer monitor a couple of feet in front of him. Displayed on the monitor is a webpage that’s titled “Daily Updates with Yokozawa-kyun~”. A message begins to type in the text box:
-Ugh. Can’t believe that I got splashed by a car today! #Unlucky-
When the “Send” button is pressed, something squeaks, and water pours from above and drenches Yokozawa. His eyes wide in cold-water shock, shivering in his restraints as the next text box beings to type.
-Junpei Yokozawa’s Execution: Junpei’s Daily Life!-
The next posts finishes typing:
-Just dropped a knife in the kitchen! Might need to see a doctor about this #klutz-
When the “Send” button is pressed this time a knife shoots out from the dark and skewers itself through Yokozawa-san’s calf. He lets out a scream just before a second knife shoots out from behind the monitor and imbeds itself into Yokozawa-san’s shoulder.
The posts continue on and on with the same theme. A spanner falls and strikes Yokozawa-san on the head. A cigarette burns the back of his hand. Hot oil is splashed on his clothes and skin, the flesh bubbling from the scaling liquid. Then it’s another blade to his arm, an iron to the back of his head. On and on and on.
Yokozawa-san’s left bloodied and bruised and still soaked from the water that was originally splashed over him. One eye is sealed shut from a hammer striking him in the side of the head. He struggles to read the blog in front of him anymore, the letters blur together. Then the chair he’s sat in move forward slowly. Closer to the monitor until the letters begin to come into focus.
-I feel exhausted. But still, I’m think I’ll survive it all-
Yokozawa-san’s good eye widens in surprise when he reads the text. A smile that’s filled with chipped and blood-stained teeth begins to show until he hears a spark above him. He looks upwards at a falling electrical cable descending towards him, then back to the post in front of him as the wire pasts his face.
-LOL #JustKidding-
The wire drops onto Yokozawa-san and instantly the electrical current surges through his body with the water as a conductor. The rooms sparks and the monitor short circuits momentarily but it finally blacks out for several moments. An announcement of a backup generator plays and the screen turns back on. Showing the still body of Yokozawa-san, now covered in electrical burns. Unresponsive. Unmoving.
Dead.
___
We all stand in silence. It’s so much to take in. Yokozawa-san, who we had just learned to have been tricked into being the killer was tricked because he was actually working with Monokuma- or rather, the person controlling Monokuma whoever that is. Then we had to watch Yokozawa-san be treated just like any other participant of the killing game. An execution just as brutal as any other.
“You’re sick.” I say without waiting for Monokuma to come in with a silence-breaker.
“Oh? Are you not happy? You guys just eliminated a spy within your midst, you should be overjoyed with yourselves! I’d say this is a very productive day for the team!” Monokuma says cheerily.
“Don’t mock us. And you still owe us answers.” Sly-san says. When Monokuma tilts his head, his eyes narrow impatiently, “Just who the hell is Yokozawa? Was he really an Ultimate? Or was he just an accomplice for you? After all…Ultimate Blogger is something that you could pretty easily lie to us all about.”
“But I’m sure I had heard of Yokozawa-kun before I joined Hope’s Peak, so I’m sure he must’ve been a real Ultimate.” Kirishima-san says.
“Of course, he was a real Ultimate! I only allow Ultimates to play the killing game. Nobody wants to see a bunch of talentless nobodies try to kill each other, there’s absolutely no pizzazz in a situation like that. In fact, you should be the happiest of all with this outcome, Kirishima!”
“M-me?”
“Weren’t you the one that tried to talk sense into Yokozawa after the last class trial? He broke down and was blaming Nagata left and right about his lucky talent being totally useless and you tried to give him a big inspirational speech. But after all that, it looks like he was just trying to manipulate you all into forming a thicker sense of distrust between you. Doesn’t that just suck for you?”
Kirishima-san looks down at her feet and runs her fingers through the middle strand of her hair. I try to reach out to say something but-
“And same goes for you all. I mean, that was Kurohiko’s killer! You should be super happy, Hokama! And since Sly and Kurosaki have been trying so hard to end the killing game then they should be happy an accomplice for the game was killed!” Monokuma continues.
“I’m not happy at all.” Amaterasu-san retorts.
“Oh? Why’s that?” Monokuma asks.
“Because Junpei-chan isn’t the reason Doi-chan’s dead. Karma is.” Amaterasu-san turns her glare towards Graves-san who hasn’t moved an inch, the same smile still plastered in place. Almost like a statue.
“Don’t think we’ve forgotten so quickly. No matter who Yokozawa actually was, you were quite happy to use him in order to kill Kurohiko. I won’t so easily overlook such actions.” Sly-san says, his eyes almost glowing a bloody colour.
“Aren’t you overreacting? Doi was gonna die after the class trial anyway, so what does it matter if I just sped up the process and also took out an enemy?” Graves-san asks with a shrug.
“No matter what your motivation were, it shows you have no respect for the rules of the killing game. If you’re going to bend the rules to do whatever you want, then it makes you the most dangerous person in this group.”
“I’m really not. At least I’ve been upfront with all of you about everything I’m thinking this whole time. Yuuki on the other hand…well, he’s had pretty much everything figured out from day one and has refused to indulge anyone with the information except for Sly. Now, that doesn’t make him seem trustworthy at all does it?”
“The Ultimate Theorist.” Amaterasu-san recalls.
“Wait, how do you know if Kurosaki-kun told Sly-kun anything?” Kirishima-san questioned.
“Easy! When I revealed it, Sly wasn’t surprised in the least. Which implies he already got told this info, or he knew the information beforehand. I wonder, what is your guys’ relationship? Could you possibly also have some kind of connection to this killing game that you’re hiding?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, we don’t. We’re trying to end the killing game.” Sly-san says.
“By keeping the rest of us in the dark?”
“That’s not it, Herr Okanaya-“
“Save it. Everyone…everyone here is lying. Or hiding something. Or shutting people out. It’s bullshit! I’m just…” Okanaya-kun’s voice trails off, his shoulders sag, “I’m so fucking exhausted. I can’t deal you people anymore.”
“Okanaya-kun-“
“Don’t even get me started on you, Nagata!” He snaps, “Listen. I meant what I said about you being important in the class trials, but I know you’re hiding shit from us all as well! I’m just so over it! All these secrets, I just can’t keep up anymore!”
“Oh~ So even our precious Ryuu is hiding secrets as well?” Graves-san grins.
The archives he means. When Amaterasu-san and I were looking for evidence on the truth on the killing game. I still can’t tell any of them about it. Dammit.
“I’m…sorry.”
“You always are.” Okanaya-kun whispers in a voice that feels so heart-breaking to me, “I just…I can’t do this tonight. There’s too much going on.” He says, making his way to the elevator. Nobody stops him or says anything as he hits the button and starts returning to the surface. I didn’t even realise until I drew my eyes away from him, but Monokuma seems to have disappeared at some point during the arguing.
Kirishima-san lets go of the middle strand of her hair and finally speaks up, “E…even if Okanaya-kun is struggling. I still trust everybody! We…we can still-“
“Trust everybody? You really trust everybody? Does that include me then, Rina?” Graves-san asks.
Kirishima-san hesitates then purses her lips, and ultimately answers, “Yes. Even you, Graves-san. I think you want the killing to end. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done what you did. That’s why I think we can still trust you.”
Graves-san laughs, “Is that so? Then will you kill someone for me? After all, you trust me so much that you must understand that if I want someone dead it’s for the good of the group!”
Kirishima-san freezes when asked the question, like a deer in the headlights, “N…no, I don’t want anyone else to die. Please don’t ask me to do that again. We should try and co-operate to end the killing game. We have to…end the killing game as soon as we can.”
“Then we’re on the same page! Let’s work together and end this killing game as soon as possible, right?” Graves-san exclaims. Then, before Kirishima-san can respond to Graves-san, they scamper off to the elevator and ride it back up to the school building.
Kurosaki-san, Sly-san, Kirishima-san, and Amaterasu-san are all silent. I don’t even have a means to break the silence. What can I even say? Kurosaki-san looks so broken in this moment…
The Ultimate Theorist.
…now isn’t the time to quiz him on this. He’s clearly not in the right state to answer either…”Let’s go back.” I say.
Without any verbal response, we all file into the elevator and ride it back up. Finally putting an end to the 4th class trial.
-Chapter 4, Post Trial, Yuuki-
Yuuki sits solemnly on his bed, Sly staring down at him with crossed arms. They had been quiet since they got back. Sly was clearly waiting for some kind of indication of what to do next. He always had something to say so it was unsettling for him to be so quiet. He gives in and clicks his tongue.
“Kurosaki. Talk to me. What’s our move?”
“We’re doomed now.” Yuuki says.
Sly’s eyes narrow, “Come again?”
“We’ve gone off-book. I showed you my theory book and this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. All this rule-bending and everybody finding out about my true talent. With their perception of me forever changed, I can’t do what I need to do in order to end the killing game…I’m sorry Sly. After everything I got you involved in, I can’t even deliver you the promised results…I’m a failure.”
Sly stares at the wallowing boy. His body is tense with anger. “You’re just giving up then?”
“I don’t have time to draft new theories. There’s no way to know what’s going to come next. Graves…Graves has changed the course of fate. We might very well be doomed now.”
That’s enough, Sly decides. He turns and goes for the door. It’s unbelievable. After everything he’s done, Yuuki wants to say Sly’s work means nothing? There’s no way he can accept that. He ignores Yuuki calling after him and leaves the door with a loud slam of the door.
…
If bending the rules is the only way to move forward, then maybe the rules should bend to their breaking point.
-Chapter 4, Post Trial, ???-
Monokuma stirs his tea and stares at the person sat in front of him, kicking his legs in the air, “You know! It shouldn’t be much longer until we have enough! Do you think you’ll be satisfied?”
{REDACTED}
“I get you, I get you. But it’s all on track. I’m sure everything will go as planned, and then the killing game can end on a happy note! Won’t it be just so exciting when it comes!”
{REDACTED}
“Well, maybe you feel like that, but I guarantee that not everybody shares the same perspective. Of course, I always share your opinion. Fun part of being controlled, I guess. I’m a fan! Though doesn’t it mean that you’re just talking to yourself in situations like this?”
{REDACTED}
“Fine, fine. In that case, I’ll keep doing what you want…let’s just hope the results are what we’re looking for. I’m excited either way…so very excited! Upupupupu~”
-Chapter 4: The Sky is just a Skip Away END-
-7 Students Remain-
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Ten Random Lines
Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people. tagged by @thatvixenchick
So I only have 5 fics posted so I’m gonna do those and then 5 WIP/Notes!
Don't Just Hold Me in My Dreams
Rintarō can feel his heart rate picking up the pace again and hopes that Samu is too in his own head to notice how Rintarō’s reacting over a damn text message. He hadn’t expected Kiyoomi to actually take what he said last night to heart. He was too flustered earlier that morning when he first saw the message and couldn’t send a proper response, opting instead for emojis that made no damn sense.
Welcome to the Meat Locker
This is more than okay. Killua doesn’t think he’s ever been more okay with anything in his whole fucking life. He vigorously nods his head, fingers locking around fabric in a death grip.
Best Friends and Birthday Kisses
Killua can practically feel the sizzle and pop of his brain crashing like an old computer. He can only imagine the smoke coming out of his ears as he grabs Gon’s hand and yanks him out of the van, past the rest of the group, and into the main bedroom of the house.
Postcard From Wade
Hottest DILF in town: I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth shut
You know that
You know me
I know you
Two peas in peanut butter and jelly
I Wanna Be Your Vacuum Cleaner
Grimmjow watches Ichigo leave with a raised eyebrow. What the hell was all that about? He looks at Neliel and she only offers a soft smile and pats him on the shoulder.
A Menace to Myself (a SakuSuna fake dating WIP this is notes)
Suna: Hey we never figured out a plan for tonight. what we doing?
Omi: 🍆👅💦
Suna calls up Omi like "Wtf does that mean?"
Omi: Eggplant and cow tongue from that place off campus we ate at a couple weeks ago??
Suna: ....You're banned from using those emojis ever again
Omi: Why, it was succinct and to the point
An unnamed SakuAtsu oneshot (WIP)
However, the urge to reciprocate has begun to nestle deep into Kiyoomi’s heart. For every casual stroke of Atsumu’s fingers, he wishes he could return the touch tenfold. The damn asshole just makes it seem so easy, and yet Kiyoomi can’t make his hand move beyond a twitch of his fingers.
An unnamed YakuLev oneshot (WIP)
"Let's get home first and see how you feel then," Lev offers in an attempt to placate both his eager boyfriend and his own growing arousal. He has a plan, dammit, and he’s not going to let either of their dicks get in the way of that.
Below Deck: Haikyuu AU (WIP-SakuAtsu, also notes)
Atsu is the one Omi can rely on if anything needs getting done, and that grates because Atsu is also the first one to do whatever dumb shit comes out of Bokuto's mouth
Sexy Boy, Come and Lay With Me (WIP-Killugon)
“What’s wrong, sunshine? Why are you crying?” The words were spoken so softly, with so much tenderness and love, that Gon couldn’t handle staying upright anymore.
As for tagging!! Umm.... @princelink @kittiemitties and yeah lol ❤️
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OnS Ch 115 fan translation
Repost of my translation from the Japanese raws I read the other day, I had made an extra effort to include more notes and focus more on reflecting the original text even if it breaks English convention in places bc I thought this would be more useful as a reference to stand against the localized translation.
The official English version is out and has been for about a day, so this is literally just for fun and archival purposes. Thank you for working with me.
Owari no Seraph
Chapter 115: Choices and Decisions
Will the world be ruled by an overarching scheme or the desires of one?
Yuu: Shit shit shit this is bad, dammit
(this is phrased more as an insult to his friends idk how to put that in english so i just wrote a regular curse, but in context くそが can be and often is directed towards people while くそ alone is more of a situation)
Mitsuba: Yuu...
Guren: Yuu!
Shinoa: Lieutenant! Onee-san!
Mika: Yuuchan
Mika: Yuuchan, calm down, I'm ok with it
Yuu: Shut up
(this is really commanding)
Mika: Think about it, Akane and the others can be brought-
Yuu: SHUT UP
Mika: I SAID THINK, YUUCHAN, Guren so desperately finally made it this far..
(that first part is an incredibly strong command, Mika usually does Not talk like this esp to Yuu)
Yuu: I'M TELLING YOU TO SHUT THE HELL UP
Mika: Yuuchan!!
Mika: Come on this is no good, Yuuchan! These awful desires welling up, I'm not eating them!
Mika: Don't run from this, THINK.
(still speaking really strongly for him)
Mika: Who are the ones right before your eyes? Who are the people you ready your weapons for?
Mika: AREN'T THEY YOUR FAMILY?
Yuu: YOU'RE MY FAMILY TOO!
Mika: Of course I am. But I'm already dead.
Yuu: I want to bring you back to life.
Mika: You can't have everything.
Mika: The number's off. If it's just me then the rest of humanity will...
Yuu: I don't fucking care about humanity.
Mika: Then, does that mean you're going to throw away Akane and the others too?
Mika: All the kids who died, is this you abandoning them?
Mika: You want to revive me, but abandon Akane and the kids?
Mika: I know you can't stand this...but really you understand don't you?
Mika: Guren with such desperation managed to make it this far fainally. What we're up against is the truth. Time and time again the painful decision fell to him.
(the Japanese for that is phrased a little Odd to directly mirror, it uses should instead but it's not like the English "should" which imparts responsibility that would be べき, this is はず which is like closer to like matters of course kind off?? idk if that makes sense--after having read the official English, they use must've, as in "it must've been his decision," this is correct and I like this better. can't change it now tho oh well)
Mika: And today, the decision is yours to make, right?
Yuu: Not happening. Like hell I could choose to give up on you
(exact phrasing is "I cannot choose to give up on you" but I needed it to sound stronger bc of the use of なんて which I have yet to find a good replacement for in English but wow does it make a difference in JP)
Mika: You can. You can choose to do that.
Mika: I mean come on, we promised didn't we?
Mika: You were gonna do a million pushups, kick all those vampires' asses and save our family, yeah?
Mika: We were so full of dreams back then.
(wording implies like almost overflowing with dreams, can't hold anymore dreams)
Mika: With my family with me...no...
Mika: With Yuu with me, I thought we could do it somehow.
(he was still speaking to Yuu, it's not uncommon in JP when you're talking directly to someone to use their name as a pronoun like 3rd person. he WAS speaking 2nd person earlier and switched tho...I couldn't written "you" instead but idk this line felt too important to change.)
Mika: But...
Mika: Even so, it was my fault everything failed.
Mika: Being alive is so painful. Yuuchan.
Mika: It's agony
(the adj 苦しい is describing like distinctly greater pain)
Mika: Even though it was my fault, I survived. So Yuuchan, I want you to save my soul.
Mika: Let's resurrect them...Akane and the kids and all...With both our strength together
Yuu: This is bullshit, Mika.
Mika: I'm sorry.
Yuu: Absolute bullshit, Mika.
Mika: I'm sorry.
Yuu: I can't make a snap decision like this.
Mika: I'm sorry, for making this so hard on you.
(lit. I'm sorry for making you think awful things)
Yuu: I-...even though I'd have been glad to be the one to die.
Mika: It's ok, it's ok, people die anyways. So when that happens, let's be together again in heaven.
Yuu: Where's heaven?
Mika: I dunno～
Mika: Alright, let's go.
Mika: Make your choice. This time for sure let's the two of us save our family.
Yuu: *continuous crying noises*
Mika: It's ok, it's ok Yuuchan. Because we'll always be together.
Yuu: *sigh* *stubborn noise of affirmation*
Yuu: Alright, I've got it. I'll make my choice.
Mika: Yup :)
Yuu: Can't let Guren be the only one shouldering all these horrible feelings.
Mika: Yup
Mika: Then, how about we do it together.
Yuu: Devour my desires, Mika. I've made my decision.
Mika: Huh
Mika: HUH? YUUCHAN NOT LIKE THAT
Yuu: I NEED ENOUGH POWER TO KILL ME. O DEMON, RAMPAGE TIL THE VERY LIMIT.
Mika: Yuuchan!!
Mitsuba: Huh!?
Yoichi: Yuu-ku-
Guren: Yuu, you idiot
Guren: All hands! Yuu has gone out of control! We're going in to capture and snap him out of it! Mahiru!
Mahiru: Yes
Shinoa: Lieutenant, wait please!
Guren: You stupid vampires, work with us! If we let them escape our whole plan is done for!
Ferid: Yeah that's right, Crowley!
Crowley: You're not talking about the plan are you.
(this is a literal translation but it's like a rhetorical question, like he's saying it like he doesn't think Ferid is taking this seriously or he doesn't think he actually cares)
Yuu: If I can't run...gotta break out the hard way
(lit. secure an escape)
Kimidzuki: Kiseki-Ou!
Ferid: Yuu-chan!～
Yuu: Mikaela, shred.
Ferid: He pulled off from himself?
(i think this is talking about Yuu using his own momentum his slash to push himself out of range)
Crowley: I'm gonna stop you.
Guren: Mahiru no Yo
Guren: *like a grunting noise*
Crowley: You're good.
Yuu: I'll cut through the ceiling and slip to the floor above...
Krul: Don't get so excited, brat.
Yuu: *sounds of pain*
Yuu: Not enough power
Yuu: Mika, more. More. Give me more.
(this is an odd command, it's really rough language?? it sounds more like "cough it up" or "surrender it" in like how strong it is but the emphasis is still on the getting if that makes sense)
Yoichi: Stop this, Yuu-kun, let's talk about this!!
Guren: Hurry it up! We're gonna lose him if this keeps up!!
(lit. if this continues Yuu is going to break)
Yuu: Not enough power. Not enough power.
Yuu: More...I need to be stronger
Guren: YUU STOP
Yuu: Not enough, not enough
Yuu: If one demon isn't enough...what do I do...
Yuu: Ashuramaru
Krul: Ashera
Yuu: Give me your power, demon.
In the thundering, maddened world within.........?
Owari no Seraph...continuing in August
Extra Notes
Clarification just in case: It says continuing in August, but I doubt that means they're taking a hiatus unless there's been some other news, they're probably just referring to the SQ issue title. I don't know the story behidn it, but Shounen Jump publishes a month ahead, this was the July edition.
On the English translation mentioning Mika's ability to eat Yuu's bad desires. The English line "You're swamped in ugly desires right now. I can't eat those!" is not completely true to the Japanese line. The Japanese line, "悪い欲望膨れ上がってる、僕はそれ食べない！" uses the just regular negative form of 食べる. The original Japanese does not say that he can't do it, it says he won't. It indicates a refusal on Mika's part to do it. It's not a mistake or anything there isn't much of a functional difference, but the nuance is important to me.
The English has Mika request that Yuu save his "heart" where I put soul, I decided to change it bc 心 is not exactly synonymous with the English "heart" in its usage and phrases. It can also mean spirit, mind and consciousness in some cases.
卑怯 does mean unfair, but can also mean cowardly or dirty. It basically means like "cheap trick" but it's an adjective instead of a noun.
Guren's attack with his demon, Mahiru no Yo (真昼ノ夜) can be translated directly to "Midday Nighttime" or, to be even cooler, it can be localized to Eclipse. They don't do this in the English they just write out Mahiru no Yo, but I think it's cool af and they should've made her power called Eclipse.
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8.20.23
Per the usual, "things are decent right now so I don't feel the need to write to myself about myself anonymously to the internet where it may bite me in the ass some time in the future" thing that goes on occasionally, I havent had much to say for a while. Instead I felt the compulsion to read recent entries, which I do often enough, especially when I plan to write. Makes things feel cohesive enough, ya know.
Came across an entry from over a month ago, talking about C.R. and what I thought I would do differently in a similar situation if I'd met that person the next day.
I didn't. don't get your hopes up.
Though, there is a bit of a 'but' to be had there. It wasn't the next day, (I panicked a bit thinking it may had been, but I was mistaken). It was a week later. I didn't meet her, not the image of her at least, but just the picture of the next pretty-queer-woman-who-makes-eye-contact-a-bit-more-than-keeps-me-comfortable, which by that I mean that this one isn't a redhead.
She's cute (obv), she dances the line of 'i cant tell if shes flirting or not' (obv), she wore her glasses for the first time yesterday and I embarrassed myself about it (obv).
I only met her the once before we worked five long overnight shifts together ((absolutely fuck me bro hated that shit)) and by the fourth night I found myself in the fucking dilemma. I was too tired to at all think about it either. I was flying by the seat of my fucking pants and if at any point she said anything at all I would've completely fucking crumbled at the thought of formulating thoughts about actions that would drastically affect my future or fucking regret whatever else I did or said. I found myself panicking at one point in the middle of the fifth shift because A- exhaustion was badly affecting my paranoia and B- "what if she said or did anything I havent made my mind up what are the pros and cons fuck my brain cant think of anything at all".
So to answer the question- "what if I met her tomorrow?" fuck all is what. because I panic and forget the importance of the rules and cant trust myself to make any decisions at all when I'm not of sound mind. So she receives the exact same treatment as the last- friendly, not reciprocating if it is flirting, and borderline cold at times when the answer reaches 'most definitely that was flirting'. Like when she brushes her hands against mine when handing something off and lingering just a little too long. God fucking dammit bro. Not funny is what it is. Not funny.
"Could I be better this time?"
no. we know that. we know the hows and whys of that answer. no new friends. no new dependents. no new dependencies. no dates no cute girls no overcoming touch aversion from extreme deprivation no sense of fulfillment no community no fucking nothing. nothing. none at all. all for the plan. an invisible race against the timeline that only I know of. no dedicating an online diary entry to the cute girl in case things miraculously worked out before that deadline and she read this one day far ahead. No Fucking Nothing.
"Would it be different?"
fuck you.
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Freedom of Speech Violated on All Social Media Platforms… Not One Ounce of Respect For The 1st Amendment…
Rules… Yes, we, as adults, have to follow rules to a certain extent… I am Aquarius, and the personality of Aquarius is on point. I believe in freedom of expression, the right to speak our minds as individuals, and the right to voice any opinion we have, regardless of whether or not it offends people.
Me, personally, I don’t really give a damn who I offend. I say what’s on my mind, I have no filter, and I don’t really care about the rules. Rules were meant to be broken. Aquarius mindset: I will do what the fuck I want, say what the fuck I want, express myself in whichever manner suits me, and I don’t need validation nor prohibition from anyone else. If people don’t like what I’m about, they can all suck my ass. I don’t give a shit.
My point is, sites like Facebook, Quora Digest, Twitter, YouTube, etc. violate our right to freedom of speech, freedom of expression, and I am sick and tired of it. As an adult, I don’t have no boss telling ME how to be, how to speak, how to be, because I won’t be tamed. I am not a caged animal, and neither are you, they, them, those over there, whomever.
But, these social media gurus THINK we are children who need a virtual spanking for saying something that might offend someone else. God forbid I hurt feelings or rub someone the wrong way when I express myself. It isn’t fair to be silenced and shut out solely because… Someone cried like a baby over your/my/their opinion(s). I think you should be able to speak about your day, especially when you are having a bad day, or a sad day, and need to vent.
I do vlogs on what it’s like to live with mental illness, because I am mentally ill, but I have a lot of things on my mind incessantly. I feel the need to speak freely, whether my voice is heard or not. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”, um… What, am I; 2 years old? NO. You will NOT silence me. Fuck that!
I have thought about creating a social media site where you can be free to be you, and if you get shamed, insulted, or judged for it, then you’d have the choice to terminate the haters with a permanent block, like FB, only I wouldn’t violate your 1st Amendment right at all. I know what it’s like to be told to shut up, just because someone didn’t like what I said. Well, excuse me, but I was not put here to impress you, kiss your butt, and grovel at your stinky feet. I was put here to be ME. There’s nobody else I’d rather be. I think everyone should stop using those social media sites that have childish rules, and everyone should log out permanently, and we can then watch the downward spiral of the decline in revenue these selfish creeps get from the traffic on these sites. And we can eat Subway sandwiches, sip on a soda and laugh as they lose money.
Mark Zuckerberg is a kid, and ridiculous, just like his weird wife. I forgot her name, because she, just like Mark, is irrelevant. One day, someone’s gonna smoke that motherfucker. I guarantee it. He thinks he’s hot shit, but all he is, is a freshly made, hot PILE of shit fresh from his momma's dirty, loose asshole.
If you are tired of being controlled like and treated like a child, just as I am, shout it out, and make it known. Stop going on these sites that control and monitor your every move. What you say is YOUR business, and you should be allowed to speak as you please. Being silenced and not taking a stand against it, well, that’s not gonna help us break free of these social media site chains. “You’re grounded from FB for 30 days, because you swore at someone.” Pshhhh get the hell outta my face, I’m not a kid and I refuse to continue to be treated as such! Boycott FB, Quora, Twitter, Reddit, and all other social media sites that restrict your freedom of speech and violate your sense of individuality. But I guarantee these idiots get to break the rules… Take your rules and shove them up your nose, like the crack you snort every day. We will NOT be silenced! SPEAK FREELY, DAMMIT!!!
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Foul - Boxer!Din AU
Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.
A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.
Word Count: 7k
Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)
Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.
Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist
He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.
He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.
Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.
Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?
“Enough!”
Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.
Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.
The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?
But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.
“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”
Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.
“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”
“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.
Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.
The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.
Din stood.
Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.
The breathing exercises didn’t work.
Because the idiot kept talking.
“Did you see the ass on that?”
Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.
“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.
Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.
“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”
The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.
Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.
Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.
The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.
“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”
Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.
The fucker had a death wish.
And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.
His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.
And he attacked.
He was lucky he had only been disqualified.
He was damn lucky no one called the cops.
But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.
Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.
Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.
“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”
“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.
“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.
“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,
“Where is she?”
Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,
“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”
“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.
“Din?”
Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.
Mine.
Not yours—
Mine.
He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.
He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.
Never.
They wouldn’t dare.
Not with him around.
But how could they know?
How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?
Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.
“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”
You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.
He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.
You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.
“Din will you just—”
You didn’t get another word out.
His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.
“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.
It didn’t matter.
He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.
“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.
So fucking hot under his hands.
So beautiful.
So his.
“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.
Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.
“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.
Traipsing around in a dress like that…
His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,
“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.
His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.
So trusting…
Fuck.
It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.
He tried again.
“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”
His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,
“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”
He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.
Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.
He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.
He couldn’t.
But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.
Like he did?
Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.
He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.
“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.
Look at the ass on that.
That.
Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—
He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.
“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”
The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.
Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.
Perfect.
He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.
And he desired you. Constantly.
“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.
“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”
Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,
“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.
Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.
Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…
Bastard.
He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.
You were dripping.
He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.
A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.
A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.
You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.
“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.
He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.
“More—” you whimpered.
“Greedy—” he growled back.
The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.
It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.
Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—
You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.
Din wanted you.
He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.
Fuck.
The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.
Din wanted you.
But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.
You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.
“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.
“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.
His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.
A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.
“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.
“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”
The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.
“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.
Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.
Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.
You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.
“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.
“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.
“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.
Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.
He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.
He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.
“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.
“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.
You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.
“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.
Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.
His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.
“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.
“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”
His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.
“Fuck—!”
He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.
Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.
His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.
“Feel… feel better?”
“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.
“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.
“Gino’s?”
“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.
You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,
“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.
It didn’t.
He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,
“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.
You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.
You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.
A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.
You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.
For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.
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A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots
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Alright I like you so I'll answer you as dispassionately as androidly possible.
When I started out my blog, I used to share a lot of theories about Kookmin- cuckoo stuff you know? Purely based on gut instincts and what others wrongfully termed oracle voodoo shit but really was just a combination of intuition, a basic knowledge of and understanding of human behavioral science and psycho analysis if you will.
I postulated, ever so eloquently might I add, how within a certain period I thought there were tensions within the group stemming from a disconnect in values especially between Jikook.
Like JK says now in his interview, he used to prioritize his wants over the collective of the group while JM had, to me, propensity to put the collective needs of the group above his own needs or the needs of jikook as a unit.
Jungkook was all about the rather dead than cool vibes. Personal happiness over anything else- even career. Cough. Cough. Yall say he's bold but really dude just risking his career cos he didn't care that much if he lost it💀
He's since that period gone through a phase of reevaluating his 'wants' and priorities and right now I tell you what- that man ain't playing with his job😊 love it for me and him.
With Jimin I felt, he placed a lot of value on his career made it front center- at the time i didn't understand why and even thought it was cos he was over ambitious but now I know from his interview that he just didn't know what else to do outside his career even on a day to day basis😭😭😭😭
And because he centered his career Kook's 'recklessness' was challenging to him in my opinion. He'd see him as childish unreasonable, reckless risking their careers yadda yadda yadda- you get the gist.
I called it his kumbaya attitude. Let's place the group first hold hands and walk into the sunset. Jungkook was all about the fuck kumbaya life😚
With this in mind, i always believed Jimin preferred to keep their relationship on a down low while JK couldn't care if they hid or not. Whew did I get ton of hate for this.
'How dare you. Jimin is not hiding shit Jungkook is the one who don't want to show the world they are real- no two year old the world is nuanced than that.
If the group want to keep any gay relationship a secret and often praise one member for being subservient and law abiding while the other is a pain in the EI ES ES common sense should tell you the one hiding is the one obeying the rules and making the group happy and not the rebel dumb ass. FREE JUNGKOOK
He was just a boy in love catching up to hyungs who were maturing at different paces yet set such a high standard and expectations pushing him to jump through phases and skip steps in order to match their energy 😭😭😭😭
He's maturing prematurely i said and yes I blamed Jimin and his cohorts 🤧
They failed him.
There's childishness and acting your age. He's the youngest dammit. He wasn't childish or immature to me. He was just acting his age and yall hyungs did dumber things when yall were his age don't let me pull receipts.
It's sad he's accepted this view of himself. I hope he doesn't internalize it. He's not a 30. But then again dating older people can have these consequences on you.
And as for Jimin he might have as well just said he's dating someone in BTS cos boy can't form functional relationships outside bts?? We been knew but
I've always said his attachment to Jungkook and even bts is borderline. Ain't no way this man having a healthy intimate relationship with anyone outside bts if he don't detach from Jungkook for one.
I recently talked about how he and kook are at the age they should be wanting to make themselves available to attract romantic interests- I'm sorry which girl wouldn't raise their brow at their man coming home with hickeys another man from work gave him.
Wait, was this not supposed to be a rant??
I think I'm supposed to be cussing people the fuck out for the bigotry that's traumatized me
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The Demon Bros Play DND!
Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?
So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.
Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM
He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.
Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.
Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.
He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.
Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.
“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”
He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.
Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker
In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.
Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)
This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!
Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-
Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.
He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!
He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.
Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?
“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”
Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.
“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”
He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.
Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.
He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.
Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...
“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”
If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.
Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)
His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!
He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.
Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.
While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.
His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”
Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.
“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”
Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.
Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.
Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-
Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.
The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)
So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?
It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.
When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.
He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.
As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.
Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!
He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.
Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.
As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.
He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!
His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!
Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.
Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.
“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”
I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)
At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.
When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.
Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.
“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”
Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!
Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.
When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!
Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.
He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.
His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.
‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’
Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!
Please help him, MC...
*Dice Cronch* (Beel)
Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...
Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D
Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:
“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”
I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.
While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.
He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.
Murder Hobo (Belphie)
Chaotic evil.
“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”
If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.
He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.
Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.
He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.
Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.
Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.
“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”
Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)
Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.
Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.
Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!
He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!
Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.
Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!
#Obey me#Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons#obey me! headcanons#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me Mammon#Obey me Simeon#Obey me Leviathan#obey me beelzebub#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me Satan#Obey me Asmodeus#Obey me MC#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?
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ajskssj mam may i request a Porco Galliard x fem reader smut scenario😳😳 somethin like a drunk sxx🤧
Tequila and Whiskey
Porco Galliard Oneshot
Summary: After a night of drinking, you and Porco have a little fun making a mess in Bertholdt’s sheets
Pairings: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, Drunk sex, slight Voyerism (I think I don’t really know how it works) Soft!Porco at the end cause I’m a sucker
A giggle escapes your lips as you and Porco come stumbling through the door, almost tripping as your tequila-filled bodies guide around clumsily.
Behind you, both Reiner and Peick are rolling their eyes at the state of you both— drunk and utterly chaotic as you both immediately start shouting once you’re in the confinement’s of Reiner’s apartment.
“Whose idea was it to take them drinking?” Reiner grumbles, hurriedly closing the door and flinching at your loud voice.
“I think it was Colt’s,” Peick grimaces as Porco begins to shout too. “Ironic seeing as he can’t hold his drinks, either.”
“Glad Bertholdt and Annie took care of that one,” Reiner says, “These two are bad enough as it is.”
It’s true— you and Porco don’t really drink much but then you do...let’s just say there’s a reason you both just stick with beer.
However, somewhere during the night you had broken your own rules. Maybe it was the hype of the party or maybe it was Porco’s pride getting in way, not being able to resist a dare from Zeke to drown half a bottle of whiskey.
Of course, you were no better because how could you possibly leave your poor boyfriend all by himself?
You ended up finishing half a bottle of tequila just as quickly and now your friends were stuck with consequences.
“Jesus—” Reiner winced as you talked in voices that were way too loud. “Keep it down you two! you’re gonna wake the neighbors!”
“W-We are the neighbors...dumbass,” Porco slurs weakly, slinging an arm around you. “Remember? We live...here too!”
“Yeah but in a different building,” Peick reminds him as Reiner rolls his eyes.
“Whatever,” Porco shrugs and then pulls you close, grinning into your hair. “You look...sexy tonight baby...who you dressing up for?”
He spins you around which honestly wasn’t a good idea, but you giggle absentmindedly at the compliment and snuggle up to him.
“You baby,” You wiggle your eyebrows, trying to be ‘seductive’ but you look awkward as hell. Peick stifles her laughter while it takes Reiner everything not throw up his damn self.
“Alright, alright,” Not being able to take the flirting, he separates you two. “Both of you— you need to get to bed and sleep this shit off. Bert’s gonna sleep with Annie tonight so you can take his room. Try to break anything or puke, alright?”
“Did you hear that pock?” You whisper horribly as pieck guides you both. “We’re gonna have the room to ourselves. hint, hint.”
“And no fucking!” Reiner calls out, before you’re promptly shoved in Bertholdt’s room and locked in.
Dammit.
You wiggle the doorknob but you can’t seem to open it— Peick must have locked it from the outside.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight baby,” Porco whispers huskily, standing behind you and pressing himself against you.
“Yeah but you heard Reiner,” You pout and turn towards him. “No fucking.”
“Fuck Reiner,” Porco scoffs, rolling his honey colored eyes before pulling you close once again. “If I wanna fuck then he’s damn sure not gonna stop me.”
“Yeah but Pock—”
“Shh,” He brings a finger to your lips to stop you. “I think I hear something!”
“What?!” You’re quick to turn left and right, searching for anything in the darkness.
Porco smirks. “It’s the sound of you calling my name in the distance,” He chuckles and you whip around to playfully hit his arm while giggling.
“Not funny!” You pout again. “I thought there was a monster or something in here!”
“I’m no monster,” Porco promises, grinding himself against your ass again, “But I am gonna make you scream.”
You can’t deny, you’re turned on just like that. It’s like a switch, and Porco knows exactly how to flip it even when you’re both drunk as shit.
“Bertl’s gonna kill us,” You whisper as Porco guides you to the bed, easing himself onto it before pulling you into his lap.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” He assures you, before leaning down to capture your lips with his.
The kiss is soft— but admittedly sloppy as both you and porco are a little off. It’s okay though, you’re soon to make it up and Porco gently lays you back on the bed and then hovers over you.
“I’m gonna have fun with you tonight,” He says, grinning.
“Don’t we always?” You grin right back, and then resume the kiss as both of you fumble with your clothing.
If you were sober you both would’ve been naked in record time. But since you weren’t it took a bit longer to rip your clothes off than Porco would like.
“Damn bra,” He curses, pulling away from the kiss to yank on the material. “Why are you so stubborn? I just wanna see her tits.”
“Just rip it off,” You encourage him, not really caring. Porco was honestly surprised — usually you begged him not to rip your clothes. And wasn’t this your favorite bra, too?
Oh well. That was something you’d have to deal with in the morning because at the moment the material was ripped in half by Porco, your panties soon following.
“Naughty girl,” He whispers as he reaches his fingers down to feel your pussy. “Already wet for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” You nod rapidly, not denying it. After all, you had been horny for Porco all night. It took all you had to just sit there and watch him look so good without dragging him off and letting him fuck you in the dirty bar bathroom.
“Good,” Porco smirks, his cock twitching as he realizes it’s all for him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good baby— just wait.”
His body leaves yours for a second as Porco leans back on his knees and fumbles with his own clothing. First, it’s that tight black shirt that made sure to define his biceps, then it’s the jeans that could barely contain his fat cock. And finally, off comes his boxers which has you practically drooling as his erection springs free.
“So big,” Your drunken self whines, momentarily forgetting that this is not the first time you and Porco have had sex. “How’s it gonna fit?”
“You’ll see,” Porco chuckles, and then he lowers himself again to capture your lips.
He lays behind you, his defined chest pressed against your back so you have to slightly turn your neck to meet his lips. In the meantime, porco scoots closer, no room in between you two as he drapes one of your legs over his body, exposing your pussy.
“Pock,” You pull away from the kiss and whine again at the lack of friction between your legs. His cock and his fingers are right there, and your core is begging to be assaulted by either one of them. Or both.
“Yes baby?” In the darkness, you can tell he’s smug. Even with his whisky-fogged brain he knows what he’s doing— teasing you having become second nature by now.
“I need you,” You frown, staring at him with desperate eyes. just to prove it, you wiggle your hips and Porco can feel the heat coming from your soaked core.
“Need what?” He’s not gonna let you off so easily. He wants you to beg for it.
“God— Porco,” You let out a frustrated sigh, just wanting to be stuffed already. “I want your cock, okay?! Or your fingers, doesn’t matter, but I need—”
A sudden gasp escapes your lips as porco complies with your request mid-sentence, reaching down to plung one of his fingers into your pussy.
“Jesus,” A moan leaves your lips, satisfaction flooding through your veins.
“Is this what you want?” Porco questions, even though he knows the answer.
“I...” You shake your head, “I-I need...more! please Pock!”
“God, you’re so fucking needy,” Porco scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I know,” Porco chuckles as you agree, and then he once again fulfills your wish by adding another finger and then slowly pumping them in and out of your wet cunt.
The action comes at a great relief, and in no time he has you moaning underneath him as his cock grows harder by the second.
“God Bertholdt’s gonna be so mad when I make you cum all over his sheets,” Porco chuckles a little. “Oh well.”
He figured you guys would deal with the consequences later, but right now he was focused on pleasuring you.
He added a third digit, intent on stretching you out for his cock. Not that you minded of course, your head already thrown back in pleasure as you reached over to grip his arm.
“P-Pock,” Moaning his name was as natural as breathing, and Porco loved it.
“Feels good baby?” He asks, wanting to hear your praise. You nod.
“Y-Yes! S’good,” You stutter as you feel Porco bringing you closer to the edge, your walls tightening around his fingers.
He can feel it— and he can see it in the way your eyes flutter close and how your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape.
“Cum for me baby,” He encourages, wanting you to release all over his fingers.
The demand is met in no time, Porco’s lips coming down to capture yours as you moan out and release all over his fingers. The feeling is euphoric, being overwhelmed by your orgasm and Porco’s lips has you seeing stars.
“Fuck,” Porco’s growing more needy by the second as he pulls his fingers out of you and breaks the kiss. You whine at the emptiness, trying to get yourself closer to Porco so he can finally stuff you.
“P-Please, Pock I need you,” You whimper, pawing at his arms.
“I know,” Porco’s just as eager to fill you up. He can hardly take it anymore, the site of your fluttering eye lids and your pretty little cunt soaking wet just for him makes him almost lose his cool.
Luckily, Porco has enough sense to guide his cock to your tight hole before he completely snaps. You moan as his tip just barely gazes your folds, Porco opting to tease you for a moment before slowly sinking himself inside of you.
“Fuck,” Your moans are in sync at the feeling of him filling you up. Your head is thrown back and Porco is leaving sloppy, wet kiss alongside your nape, groaning as he finally bottoms out.
“You’re so fucking tight,” He grunts, involuntarily bucking his lips. He swears- he’ll never get used to how good you take him. It was like your pussy was made just for him, sucking in his thick cock and making him never wanna leave.
“Baby,” You clumsily grip his bicep as Porco begins to move, setting up a steady rhythm and grabbing your hips for support. His tight grip is sure to leave bruises, but that’s the last thing on your mind as his thick cock pounds into you, giving it to you just how you like it.
“That’s right,” Porco is very vocal about how good you’re making him feel, even more so than usual. You suspect it’s got something to do with the shots but you enjoy his rare praises, used to him pulling your hair and calling you his little slut. “So good for me, fuck. I can’t believe this pussy is all mine!”
His trusts get deeper causing you to gasp as he begins to hit your sweet spot. You’re gripping the sheets, his arm, anything to keep your body in place at his brutal pace.
His hips are meeting yours at a bruising speed and you can feel his balls smacking against your ass. Porco’s got your legs wide open, nowhere to run as he utterly ruins your cunt.
“Pock, Pock!” You’re frantically trying to take him but he’s absolutely drilling your pussy and it’s too much- you can’t focus while he keeps assaulting your g-spot, your vision going in and out as your body shakes.
Berthold’s bed is creaking underneath your combined weight, deathly close to collapsing just like you were. You aren’t sure how much longer you can hold on but when Porco reaches down to rub at your sensitive clit you absolutely lose it.
Your hips buck, burying Porco deeper inside of you if that were even possible, and the added pleasure is just enough to bring you to your high, all thoughts leaving your mind as you clench tightly around Porco and cream all over his thick cock.
He’s holding you in place as you shutter, crying out obscenities. The way you’re absolutely wrapped up in pleasure right now is so beautiful to Porco that it fuels his own orgasm, a groan leaving his lips as he stills and shoots his cum directly into your womb.
“Fuck, baby-”
He’s panting, breathing so hard with sore muscles as he tries to support your limp body and his own. Your lips are still parted, letting out stray whimpers as Porco makes sure to fuck every bit of his seed into you. There are no stray drops by the time he’s done with you, hips coming to a still as he finally becomes satisfied at how full you are.
“Pretty girl,” He cooes, somehow having the energy to speak while you’re still a mess. Your eyes flicker over to his and he can see how glazed over they are, your orgasm having consumed all of your strength. “I told you I’d make you feel good, no?”
“Y-Yes,” It’s the only thing you managed to get out, nodding weakly as your sweaty body sticks to his, “S’good.”
“Told you,” He sounds so smug, but looks so soft at the same time you can’t tell which one he’s feeling. However, when he finally pulls out and decides to wrap you in his arms, the heat of his touch replacing the emptiness of his cock, you actually get to see his rare side.
“You feeling okay?” He asks tenderly, softly tracing the place on your hips where his hands had grabbed you a little too tight. Your skin may have been too dark to convey the bruises, or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, Porco feels guilty at the pain you’re sure to experience.
“I-I’m fine,” You look up at him and nuzzle yourself into his neck, smiling a bit at his soft demeanor. “Hardly even felt anything- too focused on cumming.”
“Right,” Porco chuckles at your statement, remembering your pleasure-filled face. “I thought you were gonna pass out for a sec, not gonna lie.”
“Felt like it,” You remark, causing him to chuckle again. And then suddenly, a small yawn leaves your lips as tiredness finally elopes you.
“Princess?” Porco looks down on you as your breathing begins to become more steady, your body relaxing against him.
“Bertholdt’s gonna kill us,” You mumbled sleepily, a ghost of a smile on your face. “I think we may have broke the bed.”
“We’ll get him a new one before he even realizes,” Porco smirks. You giggle.
“How’s that gonna work out?” You ask, but that night you never quite get an answer as you and Porco both begin to drift off, oddly dreaming you might have heard the bed creaking from right next door.
#attack on titan#attack on titan imagine#attack on titan x reader#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction#shingeki no kyoujin imagine#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#porco galliard#porco smut#porco x reader smut#porco x reader#porco galliard imagine#porco galliard x you#porco galliard x reader#porco snk#porco aot#attack on titan smut#porco galliard smut#spicytea.txt
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PITA
Pt. 7
*MINORS DNI*
(BakugoxReader)
Warnings: fluff and cussin
< Prev. | Pt. 7 | Next >
_______________________________
*Bakugo's POV*
Fuck, okay. There's no reason to be this damn nervous. She agreed so she obviously wants to do this as much as I do. I hope. Shit. Sweating more than normal...dammit
Bakugo wiped his hands on his jeans, took a deep breath, and knocked on your door. Leaning an arm against the door frame, he smirked when he heard you take a deep breath on the other side of the door.
"You ready, PITA?"
God she's fuckin gorgeous.
Is opening her door still a thing people do? Shit I hope this doesn't look fuckin stupid.
She's way more quiet than usual...does she regret coming? Oh god okay what do I do? Just fucking ask if she's okay would probably be a good place to start, dumbass.
...
I've got to stop talking to myself in my own fuckin head.
"Oi, why're you so quiet? I've never heard you shut up for more than like two seconds. Are you okay?"
So she is just as nervous as I am. Well, shit. Can't let her sit there thinkin she's not affecting me. Definitely have to mess with her a bit though.
"You sayin I make you nervous, PITA? If it makes you feel any better, I am too."
Oh god why did it get so hot in here?? Oh no don't tell me-
"Dumbass, I'm not blushing. It's just hot in here."
That giggle, I swear. So pretty and cute. Now I'm blushing more, fantastic. This is gonna be a long day but so fuckin worth it.
_________________
Her favorite holiday would be Halloween. Don't know why I expected anything else.
"You're delusional as hell. Summer is the best."
Okay well, she's not wrong about my quirk. How does she even know that? Common sense, probably. She's smart as hell so that's not surprising.
"You're only reason for Autumn is because Halloween ya hypocrite. But fucking fine. Snow cones, amusement parks, camping, hiking, swimming, bonfires. Happy now? I expect you to follow your own rules, PITA."
And I want to do all of that with you, baby. I bet you'd look gorgeous by the fire. Fuck I am down bad, Jesus fuckin Christ.
Bakugo files??
"Your what??"
Oh my god. She's remembering shit about me...fuck, PITA. Am I having a heart attack? No. What is that?? BakuFiles, heh. That's cute. Oh god I'm blushing again and my fuckin face hurts. You really are a pain in the ass, baby.
"Alright, you've had enough time. Gimme your reasons for Autumn."
I'd do all that shit with you too. Oh now I have to take her to a haunted house. Can't wait to see that fight or flight kick in heheh. Oh she likes the stuff I do...and I thought you couldn't get more perfect. No way in hell, PITA. You're not winnin that easy. Little shit.
"What?? How is it a tie? You like everything I like about Summer and I only like 4 of the things you listed about Autumn. If anything, I definitely win and Summer is the best season."
"Oh my god, Bakugo...," you laughed, "you're so competitive, I love it. Nothing is ever boring with you."
Nothing is ever boring with me, huh? Makin it real hard for me to not tell you I love you, PITA. Whew, remember to breathe, dumbass.
_____________________
Bakugo parked the car and looked at you, excited to see your reaction.
And first impression is...? There it is. God you're fucking beautiful, baby.
"I'm glad you like it, PITA. Let's go."
Walking through the gardens, Bakugo tried to admire the flowers. Really, he did. He just couldn't stop looking at you. You were so much better to look at than those plants, he couldn't help it. He jumped slightly at your squeal and let out a breathy chuckle.
That was fuckin cute. Damn she's fast when she wants to be
"Bakugo!! These are my favorite flowers. They're red spider lilies and they're beautiful. They're also poisonous," you explained.
Internally rolling his eyes, because of course they are. Looking around, his eyes landed on the snow cone stand and he couldn't resist.
"You want one?"
Damn near stealing his breath when you grabbed his hand because not only were you not scared of his hands or repulsed by the sweat, you did it so naturally. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do.
Damn quirk. Really? Again? Oh fuck am I hurting her?
Bakugo looked down at your hands and saw no explosions. Letting out a sigh of relief that he at least had that under control.
Yep. That's it. I'm falling for her. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
_______________________
Bakugo was actually a little worried about going into the sanctuary. He didn't want to bring you any sadness and since this would definitely remind you of your grandma, it was definitely a possibility. Studying your reaction from the corner of his eye, he immediately took notice of your building tears.
Ah fuck, please don't cry, baby. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad. C'mere, let me help. God your skin is so soft. Even crying, you're just so fuckin pretty.
"You okay, PITA?"
"Yeah I'm good. This is just an overwhelming reminder of my grandma. She would've fucking loved this."
"Deku told me a little about her. But, I'd like to hear it from you if you wanna tell me."
Wow. I would've loved to have met her. Hmm...I wonder if you have those same gardening skills. I'll keep that in mind. Just learning more about you all the time, PITA.
"Sounds like a nice woman. I'm sorry she's not here anymore, Y/N."
Why’s she lookin at me like that? Oh shit is that the first time I've said her name? It fuckin was. Like the first time ever. Weird. Wh-what the, oh, just a butterfly. Wonder what kind...
Not even thinking about the face he was making, Bakugo crossed his eyes to try to get a better look at the bug on his nose. Hearing the snap of the camera on your phone shook him out of his head.
She. Did. Not. Just take a picture of me. I probably looked stupid as fuck.
"Oi, you better delete that, PITA."
What am I gonna do about it?? Ooooooooh, PITA...you're treading dangerous waters at this point, baby.
"You little brat, come here."
Oh. Oh fuck. She's right here. Like. Right. Here. So fucking close. Okay I uhh what okay fuck I can't think. I need to kiss her. Hella bad. I hope this is okay, PITA.
Almost...
Holy shit this is finally happening...
*ring ring*
GODDAMN IT
"Fuck"
This better be fucking important or I swear to god I'll blow up whoever interrupted that.
"Yeah? Are you serious? Fuck, alright. I'm on my way."
Fuck fuck fuck. Well, this is the last time she'll go out with me. It was nice while it lasted.
"I'm so sorry, PITA. I've gotta go help in town. Whole group of villains fuckin shit up and they need backup."
I'm sorry I'm doing this to you.
"Don't be sorry, Bakugo. It's your job, I understand. I'll call an Uber or something, no worries."
😀 what 😀
"Like hell you will. Take my car back to your place when you're done here. I'll come get it from you later."
Holy fucking shit you're perfect, baby. You're so fucking perfect. I'm not leaving you with absolutely nothing though. Just a little tease at least.
"We'll continue the real thing later. See ya."
Yeah we’re definitely continuing that later.
"Be careful, Bakugo!"
Yeah. That's it. I'm in love with her.
"Always, PITA."
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@lordmypantsaresocool @suckerfor-fanfics @aomi04 @riot-race @fatbitchgeek-blog @sunflowers-rae
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