#nah i’d let the fucking fire take them

[rivatar]

His Stress Relief

MDNI!🔞 based off this request!

Pairing: Aged!Up!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.9k

Warnings/content: SMUT, Dub-con, p in v, cream pie, dom Neteyam, sub reader, dirty talk, cussing

A/n: I hope the anon who requested this enjoys, I didn’t know how you wanted it to go so I hope it’s okay and you like it!😩 And I hope the rest of you lovelies can enjoy too. Keep sending me requests & I love you all 💖

“Don’t go too far out, y/n!” Max shouted as you were already out the door.

It had been a stressful day for you in the lab. You had arrived on Pandora not even a full month ago. Everything was new to you, including a lot of the science they had here. You had just gotten your PhD not long before leaving for this mission and it was all you dreamed of was to work here, but now that you’re here, you found that the work was quite challenging and you didn’t like feeling stupid or behind everyone else.

After getting yelled at by another coworker for doing something wrong again, you decided you needed a break to calm your mind. You told Max you were going to take a walk right outside the facility, it wasn’t really a question for him but more so telling him where you’d be. He was a bit concerned for you as you were still new here but he knew he couldn’t stop you, nor had the time to babysit you.

The door slammed behind you. You spotted a slightly beaten path that led into the forest and decided to walk along it so that you could find your way back later on. You weren’t planning to go far of course but your racing thoughts occupied you so much it had you completely distracted.

Unbeknownst to you, a particular Na’vi had already spotted you and was following you quietly while staying tucked behind the various trees and plants of the forest.

Neteyam was out clearing his mind as well, he was also stressed like you, but his stress was due to his endless duties preparing to be Olo’eyktan soon. He noticed you and instantly became intrigued with you and decided to follow you and see what you were up to. It was something to take his mind off of his responsibilities for once.

You noticed a particularly amazing plant and crouched down to it, smiling gently. Next thing you knew a huge arm wrapped around your front and brought you back into them, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“What the fuck?!” You yelled in terror. You looked down and realized the arm was blue and your soul almost left your body.

“Hi, tawtute,” the creature bent down to speak in your ear.

“Please let me go!! I’m sorry for being out here! Please I’ll go back!” You pleaded and played nice while struggling against his steady hold.

“Nah. I think I’d rather keep you,” he spoke lowly and unbothered.

Fear rushed through your body like a flaming hot fire and consumed all your senses. You wanted to cry at your predicament but you had to keep your wits about you if you were gonna make it out alive.

“P-please! I’ll do anything just please let me go, I won’t tell a soul!” You pleaded some more.

He chuckled and was amused with you. “Anything?”

Confusion etched across your face. “What?”

“You said you’d do anything”

He sounded… suggestive. Or were you just going insane??

“…yeah?”

“I think I’ve got something in mind for your payment. And a way to relieve my stress”

To say your heart was beating out of your chest was an understatement.

“What do you want from me?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid, girl. You know what I want” he spoke sensually as he ran his other hand down the front of your body to cup your pussy. You gasped at the sudden sensation.

He pressed his hard bulge against your butt. “You understand now?”

You weakly nodded, fear still evident in your eyes but you were not wanting to upset him in any way by disagreeing.

Without anymore time to process this, he yanked your pants down and pushed your back forward, making you abruptly fall to your knees with your ass in the air.

You were flushed and felt exposed and vulnerable but before you could think about those feelings anymore, he suddenly ran his tongue up through your slit. You gasped at the pleasure.

“Mmm I love how your little human pussy tastes,” he groaned “much sweeter than the omatikaya girls”

He continued lapping up your juices like a starved man and you had no choice but to take it. It felt extremely good though, your hole clenched, wanting and needing attention too.

“Fucking slut. You act like you don’t want this too but your body says otherwise,” he said while prodding his thumb around your entrance. You tried to push yourself back to get the penetration you craved.

He laughed at your pathetic action. “Awww the little human needs some action? You should be thanking me” he spanked your ass hard.

You whimpered out loud and knew you were indeed being pathetic. But dammit, you were stressed and pent up too.

“Pleaseeee” you begged him shamelessly.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled mockingly.

You backed up more, wordlessly begging him to stop torturing you. So he granted your request and plunged an entire finger in, already brushing your cervix with his long digits.

“Mmm!! More!” You moaned for him.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight, gummy walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So warm and tight… fuck” he purred.

He then plunged another digit in, marveling at how you stretched for him. He roughly sped up, deciding he wanted to watch your pussy cum on his hand.

“Cum for me” he urged you while his other hand groped your ass.

You were whimpering and moaning on the ground, feeling the pleasure wash through your body as your incoming orgasm threatened to burst.

“Can feel you squeezing. Let it go, tawtute”

And just like that, as if his sultry tone and words were all you needed to reach your peak, you came all over his working fingers with your eyes rolling back in your head. It had to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Mmm, good job sevin” he praised your shaking form, still recovering from the after shocks.

He rolled your limp body over to where you could finally see his face. He was so handsome. Your fucked out face scanned over his toned, muscular body. Every curve and edge of him was perfectly carved by Eywa herself. His body was amazing but you couldn’t believe how stunning his face was. His bright yellow eyes held so much emotion and passion in them and you held his gaze, unable to look away.

He took this opportunity to untie his loincloth rather slowly. The skimpy item of clothing fell down to the ground and just when you thought he couldn’t get anymore visually stunning, he did. His cock was huge to you but fit his body proportions perfectly. It stood up loud and proud, the tip glistening with his shimmery precum.

“I take it you like it, huh?” He asked teasingly but also meant it.

You snapped your eyes back up to him and nodded slowly. Your brain was telling you to be scared but the rest of your body was screaming at you to indulge and enjoy.

He bent back down to your recovering body. His hands reached the bottom of your shirt and tugged up on it. To your own surprise, you submitted and lifted your arms to let him take off your shirt. You did the rest by then unclipping your bra.

He leaned back on his heels and his chest quickly rose and fell at the sight of you being completely naked. His face didn’t change though, he seemed to be trained to show no emotion, though his breath quickening and precum gathering at his tip gave away his arousal to you.

He got closer to you and leaned in for a brutal kiss. His large mouth completely engulfed yours and you tried to keep up with him.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and said, “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna be coming back and begging for more after this”

He left you no time to object this and continued the kiss. Although at this point you were sure you wouldn’t argue with him. Your body was aching for attention and relief.

He effortlessly picked you up and set your back against the grass. “Spread open for me,” he tapped your thigh.

You did as you were told and gave him complete access. He couldn’t wait to feel your tight, wet pussy around him.

He held his dick and coated it in your juices, before angling to start pushing in.

“You are soaked, little human” he said admiringly.

You were also amazed at how aroused you were, you had to admit it had been a while but also none of your previous experiences have been this erotic. Nonetheless you blushed at him stating the obvious about your neediness.

He sunk deeper and deeper, you were both making little noises of discomfort and pleasure at the tight stretch.

“Never had a Na’vi cock huh? You’re in for a treat” he smiled a bit menacingly.

You chuckled nervously, still focusing on breathing and getting through the extreme stretch.

He bottomed out and you moaned as he brushed your cervix. “Is that the spot?”

“Mhmm” you whined.

“I know, I know. Hold on tight, my little tawtute slut”

He removed himself all the way out and slammed back in, his huge balls slapping your skin.

“Fuck” he grunted.

He continued his assault on your cunt, ruthlessly pounding into you like a feral animal, giving you no time to adjust fully.

His mouth was open and relaxed in an ‘o’ as he watched your pretty face screw up in pleasure, both of you taking in the feeling.

You held onto his bulky arms that were settled on either side of you as he hovered over you.

You eyes started welling up with tears from the overwhelming sensation. You were being stuffed to your fullest capacity.

He then bent down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, while his other hand pulled your other one. You screamed and arched your back off the ground.

“I can’t! It’s too much!!” You squealed and he only let up so he could speak to you.

“Thought you were begging for more earlier? You’ve gotta take it now, cmon just take it like the good slut I know you are”

He then started rubbing your clit, edging you on more. “You gonna cum again? Well I’m gonna cum deep in your pussy, I got a lot and it’ll be leaking out of you for days”

He sped up his thrusts. “Maybe when it leaks out of you, it can remind you of me and you can use it to touch yourself”

His lewd words made your coil snap yet again, and your pussy convulsed around his length.

“Good lil cockslut. Take my cum now” he grunted as his thrusts got irregular and his body locked up. His cum shot deep into you and you felt it get crowded in there with his dick still inside too.

He was panting and sweating above you, his eyes half lidded and looking delirious and spent.

You both suddenly heard a distant cry, like a Na’vi calling out as communication.

His ears went up and he pulled out quickly, both of you hissing at the loss. He scrambled to tie his loincloth back on. He leaned down to your face after you sat up.

“Next time you need some na’vi cock again, come to this spot and I will answer your calling” he winked and ran off with his bow in hand, leaving you naked and vulnerable. But… also satisfied.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @professional-yapper @teyamshuman @nonamevenus

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! i use tumblr on safari - so i’m unable to answer any messages - but i would like to put in a request for conrad fisher x fem! reader smut!

if your comfortable, could you do a imagine with an innocent/virgin reader that is constantly flustered by conrad?

thank you so much!! <<33

champagne & sunshine - c.f**

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i get so nervous posting smut (for literally no reason😭), but i still hope you enjoy this 🩶 warning for smut.

the bonfires were always a good time, usually. once you grow up, the hype of them dies down a bit. belly begged y/n to come, being her older sister figure. it was y/n’s birthday, so belly convinced her that it would be fun. besides, y/n’s mom had been letting her drink today, as long as she was home and with close people. y/n figured she’d leave it at that, not bothering to take anything at the party.

she threw one of the cans in the bag at the corner of the beach, avoiding the full boxes of hard seltzer as her eye landed on conrad and jeremiah entering the beach. luckily, the fire wasn’t bright enough to illuminate her bright red cheeks. she walked away from the drinks, turning away from conrad but also trying to make herself seem noticeable.

she’d grown up with the conklins and fishers next door, but she always had the biggest crush on conrad. every single time he walked in, her heart raced and almost everyone knew it. belly always teased her, someone noticing before she even knew she liked him.

conrad had always had his eyes on y/n. conrad, y/n, and steven had been the oldest, so it was usually him and her together. she acted like she barely knew him, when he probably knew her better than anyone else. now that they were both eighteen, legal adults, they could do pretty much whatever they pleased. somehow, y/n still found herself blushing like a little girl. conrad was one of the first to show her any attention. boys never cared about her at home, and he always made her feel wanted. she was always a shadow to her friends, who had guys clinging to them. she sat around with other people talking about sex and other stuff that y/n pretended to know about. it made her a little bit embarrassed, but who really cares? her whole friend group would laugh at her humorously if they found out she was a virgin, but again, who cares, right?

it wasn’t until she was sitting on the warm sand, feeling it in her hands as she slid them across the floor, that conrad sat next to her on the beach. the music was blaring, so y/n brought herself away to just observe people for a little bit. someone must’ve had the same idea if they tread all the way over to sit with her.

“you got dragged here, too?” conrad asks first.

“belly, jeremiah for you, i assume?”

“the one and only,” conrad laughs, as he kicks away an empty bottle. “you’re not drinking anything?”

“nah, i don’t really feel like it tonight. i’d rather just enjoy my birthday sober, unlike everyone else,” she tells him, pointing to the stumbling people surrounding the fire.

“you’re not the only one,” conrad says. “so it’s just us, huh?”

“y-yeah,” y/n stutters. “i mean, i didn’t even bother getting all dressed up for this shit.”

“i think you look beautiful either way,” he says, and when y/n looks up, his eyes are softly on hers, refusing to crack the shell between them. y/n pauses, looking at conrad dumbfounded. she never has boys call her beautiful, let alone the one she’s been hopelessly in love with for years. but, they always say love hits you when you least expect it. y/n thought that was a lie, but she really believed it for now.

“you too, connie,” she spits out, not bothering to change the adjective for him because everyone is beautiful. he adjusts himself to sit closer to y/n, trying to relieve some of the tension. his eyes can’t help but wander across her body, taking in every part of her that’s breathtaking to him. and the cropped tank top and shorts that she’s wearing isn’t fucking helping his case either. she’d be lying if she wasn’t checking him out, too. his sharp jawline, his hands, his radiant eyes, his lips could never be missed by y/n. someone this pretty deserves to be looked at, they both think without speaking.

“do you wanna head out? come to my place for a bit?” conrad asks, standing up and holding his hand out as she nods up at him, anticipating a night alone.

before y/n can even begin to think straight, their lips are crashed together in his car. she’s leaning over the cup holders in the center, and her hands are against his face. his hands are placed on her hips as he can’t help but steer his mind away from his tongue in her mouth. he never in a million years thought he’d see this side of her, and she never thought she’d see it in herself. she’s kissed guys before, but never this intimately. conrad pulls away, smiling against her lips before connecting them again. every single time this happens, y/n swears her heart skips a beat in the best way possible. like their lips set off fireworks in the car. they decided to leave the vehicle, climbing up the stairs, trying not to disturb the moms watching a movie. conrad places his hands on her thighs, lifting her up and placing y/n gently on his bed. he climbs up as well, letting her legs wrap around him as their kiss does nothing but intensify.

her hands roam all around his body, his waist, his shoulders, his neck. the only time they separate is for a breath of air, just until they can return again. conrad’s wander over her chest, placing one of his hands to squeeze her breasts.

“is this ok?” conrad waits for confirmation until he gets a yes. after, in response, y/n tugs off conrad’s shirt, discarding it to the floor somewhere in his room. her hands run down his back. “if you want to stop, tell me and we’ll stop the second you say it.”

“ok,” she peeps out. “but if this does go any further, i’ve never done any of… this, before.”

“we can stop, y/n, whenever you want.”

“no! no, i want to keep going. can we just, go slower, maybe?”

“anything you need,” conrad reassures her before moving down the waistband of her shorts. “can i take these off?”

“yes,” she tells him, clearly and assertively as he takes off the tank top, too, leaving her in just a gray bra on his bed.

“have you ever… ever been eaten out before?” he asks. she shakes her head no, slightly embarrassed so she puts her head down to cover it, but conrad sees right through it. “hey, look at me. you’re ok, i promise. can i keep going?”

“yeah, please,” she says, squirming in discomfort from her own arousal. the feeling is unfamiliar, wanting someone to touch her so bad as it’s at her fingertips. someone willing to love her is right in front of her. conrad begins to peel off y/n’s underwear, throwing it off the bed like his shirt, ending up somewhere on the floor. she pulls her legs apart, spreading them as conrad’s eyes fall deeper.

“god, y/n,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“conrad,” she begs, as he flattens himself down trying to ignore his own erection. he wants to pleasure her first, and knowing he’s the first one too might boost his ego a bit. but conrad would never admit that.

his face is an inch away from her pussy, beginning to kiss her inner thighs as she groans from the teasing. finally, his tongue makes contact with y/n’s slit, gathering up her arousal before swirling it around her clit. y/n’s head falls back onto the pillow again in pure pleasure, letting out a quiet moan for the first time. “oh, fuck yes,” she speaks out, making conrad try to contain a smile. he places his tongue on her clit again, moving his flat tongue up and down. he switches between those movements and wrapping his lips around it, sucking on her clit, causing her to fail at concealing her moans. y/n’s hand moves down to conrad’s hair, trying to ground herself on the bed from the ecstasy.

the second her climax starts rolling up onto her, her legs start shaking and that tells conrad that you’re close. “f-fuck, con- oh my god,” she pants out, trying to formulate words but failing. her orgasm creeps up and sends her over the edge, releasing a strong moan from her lips as she comes down from the high, his fingers are gently circling over her clit.

“that was, um, holy shit, that was amazing, conrad,” she smiles as he pulls himself back up to her.

“are you feeling alright?”

“better than ever,” she says, making conrad laugh as he moves over to his drawer. he pulls out the box of condoms before taking one out.

“do you wanna keep going?”

“yeah, i do.”

conrad moves back over, dropping his pants and rolling to condom on. y/n gazes at his length, wondering how she would be able to take it. with conrad here, she knew she would be ok, so they continued. he walks back over, pulling her legs apart and making eye contact with her again. “remember, we can always stop no matter what, ok? just say stop, and we can stop.” she nods and he leans in closer. he plants a sweet kiss on her lips before pulling away, it was her turn to smile against his lips.

once settled in between her legs, conrad begins to run his tip up her slit. he confirms that she’s doing alright and that she’s ready to keep going. after he’s aware, he slides his dick into her, making her nose scrunch and release a high moan.

“you ok?”

“yes,” she replies. “yeah, you can go faster.”

conrad speeds up his pace, thrusting himself into y/n. she didn’t feel outright pain, just discomfort. that discomfort soon turned into pleasure, causing her mouth to hang open. “you feel so good, y/n/n, god damn.”

y/n’s hand falls down to her clit, circling it until she starts to bring that now familiar feeling up. conrad continues to keep the same pace, not changing it to make her feel comfortable and in control, just as much as he is. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long,” he spits out, not thinking about his words. y/n heard him loud and clear, but she’s too distracted by her orgasm coming up.

“conrad i’m close,” she tells him.

“me too, baby,” he says, breathless. “come for me, y/n.”

her release leaves her with stars in her head, the feeling better than anything she’s ever experienced. she was always worrying about sex and what it might be like, but with conrad, he made it amazing for her. she knew he was the right guy. he brings himself down, leaning onto her as he releases himself into the condom. he pulls out of her, throwing away the condom and pulling his boxers back on. y/n grabs her underwear, as she stands up wobbly. her legs are weak from her two orgasms from conrad, making him chuckle in the corner.

“hey, um,” y/n starts. “thank you.”

“yeah, of course,” he stutters a bit, not sure of what to say but trying to still wrap his head around it. he means, he just had sex with the hottest girl in cousins, what is he supposed to say? “you know, i meant what i said. i’ve liked you so much, for a long time.”

she just stares at him, confirming that she’s not in some dream. “i’ve been in love with you since the day i first saw you on the beach,” conrad steps over to her. placing his hands back on her bare waist and kissing her passionately again. he pulls back again to sadly, break the kiss off.

“we should probably clean up a bit, before everyone comes back and yells at us for leaving,” he says, brushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear. she nods, beginning to pull the rest of her clothes on. thank god she left that party when she did, or she would still love conrad, but never say it.

[ynbabe]

bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!

Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU

Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

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Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.

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Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

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Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.

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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.

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Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

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Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

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Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.

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How Lando and Y/n became friends:

Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.

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Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

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Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.

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Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

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Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

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Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.

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Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.

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When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:

Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 28: Back to Indiana

Words: 976

Rating: T

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: language, talk of bullying

Thank you to my editor @munson-blurbs ❤️

Summary: When famous rockstars Eddie and Jeff come back for their ten year high school reunion, Eddie runs into a friendly familiar face.

@corrodedcoffinfest

Welcome Back Class of ‘86!

The banner in the God awful combination of green and orange greets Eddie as he pushes into the gym. Jeff’s by his side as they step into the once despised part of their old school.

Eddie and Jeff had debated whether or not they wanted to come back for their reunion, but ultimately decided to go. They knew it was petty, but they wanted to see how differently the “Hawkins High Royalty” treated them now that they’re successful rock stars. And they get their answer almost instantly.

“Whoa, Eddie! I didn’t think I’d see you here, man.”

Andy was one of the worst douches of all back in the day. Now he’s acting like they’re old friends ? Nah, fuck that shit.

Eddie gives him a terse nod of the head and keeps walking.

Jeff knocks his shoulder against his band mate’s, laughing as he does so.

The pattern repeats itself, other former jocks and students who ignored or tormented them trying to talk to them as if it’s the most casual, normal thing in the world.

“Holy shit, man,” Eddie says. “This is fucking hilarious.”

“I am so glad we decided to come tonight,” Jeff says. “You know, I’m aware that these aren’t the tables from the cafeteria, but something about being back here has me itching to see you jump up on one and make some grand speech.”

“What, you think everyone here needs a lecture? Teach your kids to be nice to the freaks because they might end up Grammy winners someday?”

Jeff laughs. “Holy shit, it’s scary to think that some of these people are parents now. Oh hey, look. There’s the only reason you passed, what, three of your science classes?”

Eddie follows his friend’s gaze and grins when he sees you sitting at a nearby table. He can’t help but notice that you’re sitting alone. It seems like not much has changed, because you were always quiet in school and could often be found in a secluded spot with a book.

“Uh no,” Eddie counters Jeff, “she helped me pass two—no, shit, you’re right, three times.” He pats Jeff on the chest. “I’m gonna say hi. I’ll catch up with you.”

Jeff gives a small salute and heads further into the gym.

Eddie pulls out the chair that’s across from you at the round table, spins it around, then plops down on it. He rests his arms on the back of the chair and leans forward.

“Hey, you. Long time no see,” he greets.

Your eyes widen when you take in your former lab partner.

“Hi,” you say, unable to keep the surprised squeak out of your voice.

Eddie smiles and tilts his head. “How are you?”

“I’m-I’m good,” you say. “How are you?”

“Pretty good for being back in this place.” Eddie looks around the gym, as if he’ll see back in time to his six years here.

“Yeah,” you say with a small chuckle. “Why did you come back for this? We didn’t exactly go to school with the greatest people.”

“That was good practice since Hollywood isn’t filled with the greatest people either,” he says. “But figured it might be fun. Plus, I get to thank you for helping me graduate.”

“I don’t think I did that much,” you say, shyly ducking your head.

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asks with a disbelieving chuckle. “If I didn’t have you, I would’ve failed biology, chemistry, and anatomy.” He pauses a second, pursing his lips. “How did we end up having all those classes together? I mean, what are the odds?”

You nod and let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding Eddie’s eyes as you look down at the table.

“Y-Yeah, I know.”

The rockstar’s gaze narrows as he eyes you suspiciously.

“Okay, spill. You know more than you’re saying.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you release a breath and find the courage to meet Eddie’s eye.

“Well, uh, I was an aide in the front office,” you start. “And so they let me help with making student schedules.”

“And you put us in the same science classes?” he asks, a smile growing on his face.

“I did.”

“Why? Just to help me graduate?”

“Um.” You scratch at the side of your neck, your stomach doing a somersault. “Also because I had a huge crush on you.”

Eddie couldn’t look more surprised if you told him aliens made the class schedules.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes,” you answer before taking a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He’s still smiling, so that’s good. You were half afraid he was going to laugh in your face.

“Because,” you say with a shrug, “I didn’t think you’d want to go out with me.”

Now, Eddie frowns.

“Of course I would’ve,” he says. His eyes scan your left hand for a ring before he speaks again. “Actually…do you want to get out of here now? Get a burger or something?”

Now it’s your turn to look shocked.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah!” Eddie stands up and situates the chair back to its normal position. “It’s not everyday I find someone who liked who I was before I was famous.”

“How do you know I’m not lying?” you challenge, feeling slightly bolder.

Eddie laughs. “Because I had classes with you for three years. You couldn’t even lie to Mrs. Click when you were late to class because you wanted to finish the chapter of a book.”

The tumbling in your stomach turns to butterflies.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Eddie just shrugs, giving you a bashful smile.

“You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You were bound to stick out at this school of assholes.”

You stand up from your seat and place your hand in Eddie’s outstretched one.

“Benny’s Burgers?” you ask.

“You read my mind.”

[blueicequeen19]

Dirty Hot Pogue

Warnings: fighting, angst, outdoor sex

“Hello, doll face. Care for a drink?” A cute blonde offers a red solo cup to you as you pass the kegs and you grimace, not hiding your distaste.

“Um, no.” You say, trying to move past him but he doesn’t let you, fixing you very a flirty grin. You’d heard about this blonde. He was cute as hell and obviously very charming but also a dirty Pogue and beneath you. Your friends always talked about how hot he was and rumors said he was an excellent lay but you weren’t interested.

“My boyfriend is standing right over there. If he sees you talking to me for more than 30 seconds, he’s liable to kick your ass.” You retort, brushing your hair from your face.

“My boyfriend is standing right over there. If he sees you talking to me for more than 30 seconds, he’s liable to kick your ass.” You retort, brushing your hair from your face.

“He sounds insecure. You’re not allowed to talk to other guys?” He raises a brow at you.

“Not one’s that flirt with me.” You scoff.

“What makes you think I’m flirting with you? Maybe this is just my charm. I’d never flirt with a Kook.” His gaze rakes over you with matching distaste. You kind of liked that he wasn’t afraid to push you. Most people feared you but he didn’t. He challenged you.

“And I’d never flirt with you.” You counter, crossing your arms and making your tits stick out more. His eyes harden but he doesn’t look down. It was an easy trick but he didn’t take the bait. He didn’t like to lose.

“Good. I’m sure you’re a terrible fuck. I don’t do boring chicks.” He shrugs, taking a long drink of his beer.

“I’m not boring!” You retort without thinking. You feel your body heat under his gaze and you suddenly wanted to know what those lips felt like on yours. It’d been a long time since anyone had made your heart race the way it was in your chest.

“I don’t know. You kinda seem like a pillow princess.” He taunts, turning away from you like he’s dismissing you and filling up his cup again.

“So? If a guy can’t give proper foreplay, why should I try?” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and he bites back a smirk before looking back at you.

“Trust me, if he’s not giving you proper foreplay then he’s a bitch. Girls should be teased and tongue fucked until they’re begging you to stop.” His words are low so no one overhears but it’s enough for your heart to skip a beat. You wanted that. Your boyfriend didn’t give head so you didn’t either. Yet, here a Pogue was getting you hot and bothered over just words and painting a picture in your head.

“By the look on your face, I can tell that’s not the case for you. That’s a shame. I would happily drown in your pussy.” His eyes shine with intent and you have to remind yourself to breathe. He licks his lips and you suddenly want that tongue between your thighs or in your mouth. You don’t think before snatching the drink from his hand and downing it, trying to put out the fire in your blood. He smiles at you, finally letting his eyes rest on your prominent cleavage. Had it really been so long since you’d had a decent fuck that you were ten seconds away from begging this Pogue to fuck you?

“Yo. You hitting on my girl?” You blink, stepping back as your boyfriend pushes between you and the blonde.

“Nah man, just a friendly chat.” The Pogue says, not a hint of remorse on his face.

“Well, don’t. She’s spoken for.” Your boyfriend snaps, shoving the blonde in the chest. His expression turns murderous and your thighs clench. His anger was even hotter than his wit.

“I heard. I also heard you’re a bitch that can’t fuck his girl right.” Your jaw drops and all hell breaks lose.

Everyone scattered after the fight but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not yet anyway. You make your way over to a secluded part of the beach that’s littered with fallen trees and see the blonde getting his face examined by a curly haired girl. She’s scolding him. You can tell by the angry expression on her face. Which is quickly directed at you when she sees you approach.

“Haven’t you done enough?” She snaps but his smile catches your attention.

“Kie, it’s fine. I’ll meet you back at the Chateau.”

“You can’t be serious. She’s the reason you got your ass beat.” She shouts, looking between the two of you. You hardly see her. You just wanted to be near the one person who made you question everything. That made your heart skip in your chest.

“Go.” He says sternly. Kie grabs her stuff before shouldering past you and disappearing up the path back to where everyone is parked.

You don’t move for a moment, just taking him in. His shirt had been ripped off in the scuffle and he had a few scrapes and bruises along his face and hands but other than that, he looked okay. You hadn’t even checked on your boyfriend yet.

Your eyes linger on the shark tooth necklace around his neck and down to his washboard abs. He was.. dirty and sexy. And wrong. The enemy.

“Did you think about what I said?” His voice meets your ears and you finally look at his face.

“Which part?” You don’t recognize your own voice, the energy shifting between you two. He gets up and closes the distance between you. Your breath catches when he brushes your hair from your face, his breath hitting your forehead.

“About letting me drown in your pussy.” You gasp at his filthy words, trying hard to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I don’t even know your name.” You whisper as he tips your chin up and leans in, his nose grazing yours.

“Do you want to?” His voice is lower, his lips tempting and so inviting right in front of yours.

“Not really.” You admit, your lips drifting over his. You could almost taste the beer on his tongue.

“Listen, I’m not interested in being your rebel phase.” He licks his lips and his tongue swipes over yours, making you suck in a shaky breath.

“That’s too bad because that’s all I have to offer.” You admit, leaning in to close the space between you but he pulls back just enough that you miss.

“I’m not your dirty secret either. I won’t be left staring at you from across some party while you hang on his arm.” He nudges your nose with his own, his jaw clenched tight.

“Then walk away.” You whisper, your restraint slipping through your fingers. His hand suddenly finds its way in your hair and he’s tilting your chin up.

“I can’t.” Then his mouth is on yours and you forget how to breathe. Your arms wrap around his waist and your nails scrape his back as you cling to him. Your tongues collide and your head spins, knowing you’d never been kissed like this before. Nothing would ever compare to this and you didn’t even know his name. Blondie would have to do.

He suddenly picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he sits down on a fallen tree, never breaking your kiss. You wind your arms around his neck as you start to grind your body against his, in search of friction as his hands find your ass under your sundress. He squeezes and kneads the flesh, groaning against your lips.

“We should stop.” He whispers, stroking you through your panties. You were embarrassingly wet and wanting.

“Then stop.” You rasped, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. He curses before he tears his mouth from yours and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You should be worried about being caught out in the open with a Pogue but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you grind harder on him.

“Fuck, you’re killing me.” Blondie growls, smashing your lips back to his.

“You’re actually going to get me killed.” He groans, lifting you up enough so he can undo his shorts. His heavy length slaps against your thigh and you moan, desperate to have that inside you. You can’t stop kissing as you feel him roll on a condom then he’s sheathing himself inside you.

“Fuck.” You both curse, burying your faces against each other. His arms wrap around you, holding you in place as he fucks up into you.

“Oh my fucking god, you feel so good. You’re gonna make me cum too fucking fast.” He buries his face in your breasts, biting the flesh as he fucks you.

“I’m close.” You cry as he hits that sweet spot inside you, making you see stars. “Oh god.”

“Come on, let me have it.” Your body seizes up, your pussy clenching painfully around his length as you cum. He groans, fingers digging into your back as he finds his own release. You keep rocking your hips back and forth until you’re both sated, milking his cock dry.

“Holy shit.” Blondie groans, holding you tight as you both fight to catch your breath. Your body was buzzing even though you’d just had the best orgasm of your life. You didn’t want to detach yourself but you knew you had to. There was no other option.

You slowly got to your feet, wincing from the loss and the ache of him as you tugged your dress back on. You didn’t see what he’d done with the condom but his shorts were zipped back up as you faced one another. You didn’t want some awkward goodbye but you didn’t want to be his friend either.

“This can’t happen again.” He says, startling you by taking the burden on himself.

“Why not?” You ask, wondering if his reasoning is the same as yours.

“Because I’m having difficulty letting you go now. If I fuck you again, I won’t.” His expression is hard but his blue eyes are soft, making you believe every word. Your breath catches and you fight back tears.

“Just treat me like all the other girls in your bed.” You laugh half heartedly, swiping your hair off your neck and over your shoulder. You couldn’t look at him.

“Trust me, you’re not other girls. You pretend to be, but you’re not.”

“You don’t even know me.” You turn to leave but he catches your arm, hauling you back against him and kissing you hard. He only pulls away after you’ve gone limp in his arms and can’t hold yourself up anymore.

“I do know you. Just like you knew my name this entire time.” He pants, kissing you again.

“How did you know?”

“Because you moaned it as you came and I’ll never be able to get the sound of it out of my fucking head.”

[purrrrplecats]

oh no i found it

the in correct quote generato-

(there a lot so if you don't want to read lots don't click keep reading)(theres loads i think 50-)

Scar: Grian and I are so close we even share a toothbrush. Grian: We what?

(he appoligised abt the joke later on.)

Mumbo: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Grian: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Scar: Yeah? Grian: Bitch.

Mumbo: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Grian: No… not really. Mumbo: Are you going to do something about it? Grian: Hm… nah.

Grian: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Scar: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Pearl: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

Pearl: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Pearl: gasps whErE???!!!??

Impulse: So I have made the decision to trust you. Grian: A horrible decision, really.

Grian: Gem, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Gem: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Gem: You don’t have one like this anymore.

(its and mug with pink and blue snails on it.)

Gem: This should be illegal! Pearl: It is.

Pearl: Okay, let's split 'em up and make 'em sing. Impulse: Two of you take Gem, the other two take Grian. Scar: Right. Bad cop, good cop. Mumbo: You know, it's interesting that they say "bad cop, good cop," because policing in this country is so broken it's really just "bad cop, bad cop". Impulse: Scar, you're with them. Scar: Got it.

Grian: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY! Scar: Then where are Norwegian people from!? Impulse: NORWAY!!

Impulse: Would you slap Pearl- Grian: Yes. Impulse: I didn't even finish! Grian: Sorry, continue. Impulse: Would you slap Pearl for 10 dollars? Grian: I would do it for free. Pearl: Rude…

(you could also swap Grian and Pearl around because I mean, SKYLINGS)

Grian: If you want my advice- Pearl: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Grian: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Scar: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Impulse: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gem: I am strong! I beat Grian at arm wrestling! Impulse: Anyone can beat Grian at arm wrestling! Grian: Hey-

(sure Impulse sure-)

Gem: Grian, I am nothing if not a Woman of principle. Gem: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Pearl: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Gem: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

(again you could swap them around)

Pearl: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Mumbo: Those are Pokemon cards. Pearl: You got a magikarp. Mumbo: … Pearl: It means 'fuck you'.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Gem: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Gem: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Scar: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Impulse: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Impulse: SCAR IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Impulse: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Gem: Hey Pearl, check out this funny .GIF I found! Pearl: It’s pronounced “jif”. Gem: Huh? Pearl: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Gem: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Pearl: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Gem: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Pearl: It’s exactly the same! Gem: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Pearl: Gentrification. Gem: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Pearl: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Gem: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Gem: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Pearl: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Gem: Huh. Didn’t know that. Gem: You’re still wrong, though. Pearl: You just hate me because I’m right. Gem: I just hate you in general. Pearl: You mean in “geh-neral”? Gem: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Scar: What's worse than a heartbreak? Grian: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Mumbo: Waking up in the morning. Gem: Waking up.

Scar: I love you. Grian: Me too.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Pearl: What’s your favorite color? Gem: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Pearl: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Gem: My favorite color is pink.

Grian: Do you love me? Mumbo: We’re literally married. Grian: Yeah, but as friends or—

(logic is that Waffle duo got married as a bit like Clingy duo (Tubbo and Tommy) but G is like Tommy and doesn't want to get a divorce because he wants to commit it the bit.)

Grian: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Pearl: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Grian: They're not. Pearl: Haha, very funny. Grian: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Pearl: No… what happened? Grian: …Why would you fall for this again-

Scar: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Gem: Bees? Scar: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Gem: Wait- Impulse approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Scar: Mx. Grian, I accidentally dropped my seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have a lemon tree grow inside my belly? Grian: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Scar: Yes. Grian: Grian: Alright, let's go to the nurse.

Grian: Some people are like slinkies. Pearl: What? Grian: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Pearl: Pearl: Please don't push Scar down the stairs. Grian, pushing Scar down the stairs: Too late.

Pearl: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Scar: When have I been paranoid? Pearl: Um, when you first met Gem you thought they were an undercover cop…? Scar: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Pearl: And last year you were sure Impulse was a mermaid! Scar: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! Later, when Scar’s theory is proven wrong Pearl: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Scar: I still think Impulse is a mermaid.

Grian: Scar, Pearl keeps bullying me at school. Scar: Ask your teacher for help. The next day… Grian, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Pearl?

Pearl: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Scar: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

(same quote 2 times in a row!?!?!)

Impulse, near tears: Please, Grian, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

Gem: I need to dye my hair. Impulse: … Gem: Or get another tattoo. Impulse: … Gem: Or a new piercing. Impulse: Why? Gem: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

Grian: aggressively throws pencil at Scar Grian, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

(Double Life = soulmates)

Scar : So you like cats? Grian: Yeah. Scar : tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Impulse: What have you done with Scar ?

Grian: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Pearl: Scar , let’s go! Grian : Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Pearl: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Grian : What-? Pearl: Mom, Dad, Scar smoked pot in college. Grian : You are such a tattletale! Grian : Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Jimmy who was smoking the pot but… It was me. I’m sorry. Pearl: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Grian did. Grian : Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Pearl did. Pearl: Grian hasn’t worked for a year! Grian : Pearl and Gem are living together! Pearl: Grian married Scar in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Jimmy: I love Jacques Cousteau! Etho: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Doc: I wanna gooo!!

(I changed some names, aka added Doc, Etho and Jimmy, also Etho is the mum Docs the dad, and Tim is ofc the younger brother.) (the family situation is defo not from TTSBC)

Mumbo: I will send my army to attack! Mumbo: releases a dumpster of raccoons

Gem, throwing their head into Pearl's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Pearl, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

(awwwwww)

Squad is playing Among Us Grian: I believe Pearl is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mumbo, what were you doing? Mumbo: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

(I was gonna change Pearl to Scar and change Mumbo to Impulse because Impulsetor)

Pearl, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Grian: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 3

~ ch. 1 & ch.2 here ~

content warnings: f! reader, bisexuality, p in v sex, feelings, angst

word count: 7.4k

a/n: thank you all for coming on this ride with me! i am so grateful to have you guys in my life <3

I’ve convinced Matty to take me back to his. Partially because I’m embarrassed to be sleeping on the pull-out couch and partially because I don’t want to go all the way back up the hill to Nina’s. I’ve spent so much time wallowing that I want to jump at the possibility of something as hedonistic as having sex with Matty. It feels like something I’ve earned.

The boys’ villa looks different than I remember it. The hazy afternoon light brightens it and I can see now that it’s decorated quite nicely. It must not be theirs if they’ve been coming here since they were teenagers; it probably belongs to Matty’s family but I see it as a credit to him anyway. I think I’m delusional enough at this point that I’d see anything about him as meritorious.

Matty takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to the second floor, stopping me as soon as I reach the top to push me up against the wall and kiss me. He boxes me in with his arms around my head, creating a space for just us, and petting my hair gently as his mouth explores mine. He feels warm and comfortable and my world goes fuzzy. He smiles against me and pecks at my chin sweetly once he’s had enough of my lips. He pulls me further along the corridor, looking back at me and pressing a finger to his lips.

“Are you not allowed to have girls home?” I tease as he opens the door to his room. He trots over to the window and opens it, letting fresh air into the space. Then he makes his way back to me, pulling me into him by my dress until my lips almost touch his.

“Nah,” he smiles into me, “George usually takes a nap around this time. Don’t wanna wake him if I don’t have to.”

He pushes me back to sit on the foot of the bed, and I immediately start unbuttoning his shirt. I look up at him innocently.

“Does that mean I can’t be loud?” I ask. I mean it earnestly, but the fact that me whining and looking up at him pouting turns him on is a delightful bonus. 

His hand finds my jaw, caressing it sweetly. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to miss a single pretty noise you make.”

I smile and move to stand to get rid of my dress. Matty’s hands find my shoulders and push me back down.

“Lay back,” he says. I shuffle back on the bed until my back meets soft pillows. I look down to the sheets for a moment and I notice they’re littered with blue and green flowers, like something my grandmother would have swooned over in the eighties. They smell like my grandmother, too; that sweet, musky smell of things that have lived a hundred lives already. They’re soft but not quite threadbare beneath my fingertips. I muse at the idea, thinking Matty has probably worn them out over the many, many years he’s been coming here. The sheets contain stories I’ll never know, that I’ll never even think to ask. 

“Is everything okay?” His voice brings me back to reality.

“Yeah, they’re pretty s’all.”

“The sheets?”

“Yeah, but not as pretty as you,” I sigh as I catch his earlobe in my mouth. He gasps as I do, “You gonna undress me? Or are you all talk?”

“Fuck me,” Matty mutters under his breath, his hands find the hem of my dress and push it over my head, skimming my sides as he does. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake, tickling me slightly, setting my nerves on fire. 

My bra and underwear are still slightly damp from our dip in the lake. Matty kneels between my legs immediately, kissing the space between my breasts, the outline of my ribcage that dips down into my soft belly. He spreads his hands over my torso, holding my middle to his mouth so I can’t escape his worship. 

I grab onto his hair and hold tight to him as he kisses his way further down. He looks up at me, panting, through dark lashes before he touches the waistband of my panties. My mouth is open, gasping for breath, as I nod to him eagerly. I plant my feet on the soft bed and lift my hips to help Matty as he removes my underwear. He’s greeted by dark, thick hair and wetness.

He looks at me for a moment, taking me in.

“I didn’t expect this, either,” I say, blushing. He leans down and presses a kiss to my inner thigh.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers into the skin there. He crawls back on top of me and reaches around to my back to take my bra off. I arch my back to help guide it off and Matty looks as if he could bust right then and there, knelt on the bed and completely clothed.

After a second more of dumbness, he asks, “Do you know how pretty you are?”

My hands come to cover my face. It's too much, too romantic. And what's more, the answer is no; I don’t know how pretty I am. I’m wise enough to know that, when I look in the mirror, the image that makes it to my brain is distorted. I could be looking at a supermodel, but if I knew her reflection belonged to me, I would despise it. I don’t know why after so many years of learning to love myself, I still fall short, but I do. Each and every time. Besides, it feels like a ridiculous thing for him to say. Matty grabs my wrists, tugging the shelter from my eyes, and brings one hand down to cover my breast, squeezing it.

“Feel yourself,” he whispers in my ear, pinning my other hand above my head. He helps me massage my left breast and I moan involuntarily as he does. “That’s right, baby, feels so good, doesn’t it? So soft and warm. Does it feel good when you touch yourself like this?”

I moan and nod, letting out a barely audible whimper. 

His mouth trails from my ear down to my jaw and neck, “Words, please,” he instructs.

“Yes,” I gasp, “It feels good. I feel good, Matty.”

“Good.” He folds my hand back into his and trails it down my ribs, down into the dark patch of hair that grows between my legs. “Touch yourself for me, baby,” he whines into my chest, “Want you to feel good.” I meet his eyes for a second, apprehensive. He nods at me encouragingly and I smile lazily, resigned to his will. I bring my hand down, lower and lower, gathering some wetness so I can rub my clit. It’s like the treatment for an illness; that little bit of pressure on my bud eases the ache between my legs instantly, allowing the feeling to morph and change into something pleasurable. I trap my clit between two fingers and stroke myself up and down as Matty catches my lips in his again.

“That’s it, you listen so well,” he says, “How does it feel?”

“God,” I buck against my hand, “It feels so good. So wet and warm please I want you to feel.” His hand comes down to cover mine and I sit up on my elbows to watch him, wanting to see his reaction to my body. I hope it pleases him. My mouth hangs open as I keep my eyes on his face. I feel him playing with me and I whine. Matty begins to tease my entrance, barely dipping in, feeling my muscles contract and relax. I watch his face as he finally slides two fingers into me. When he shuts his eyes, I do too, clenching at the feeling. It feels otherworldly; so different from when I touch myself because I can’t anticipate it. I let my hands fall above my head, arching up into his touch and writhing in pleasure, chasing something, and following my body’s instincts of what feels right.

I feel empty all of a sudden. My eyes snap open.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking down at Matty, who’s watching me, mesmerized.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” he acquiesces, moving his hands back onto me, “You’re fucking perfect, I just wanted to watch.” He leans up and kisses me as he strokes my clit side-to-side, building me up and leading me to the edge. 

“Can I please fuck you?” he asks into my mouth. I nod furiously, knocking my teeth against his and smiling bashfully in the wake of my mistake and my eagerness. 

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“That’s alright,” he smiles into my mouth and I inhale it like a drug. I watch him hazily as he gets up onto his knees and moves off the bed, removing his pants and boxers. It’s a reveal that’s come at a time when I can’t fully appreciate it. I'm too dumb with the anticipation and excitement of having sex with someone new to be able to fully take him in, or compare him to anything. I just want him as close to me as he can be. 

He reaches into a drawer somewhere and retrieves a condom, tearing the wrapper and rolling it onto himself. Then he’s kneeling beside me, taking up my whole consciousness. He’s all I can see and think about. And, when he kisses me, it doesn’t feel new, it feels old and known. Like this was supposed to happen in every parallel universe. Like it’s happened before and we’ve found our ways back to each other. He feels like an extension of me, an appendage that’s been missing that I’d just learned to live without.

“You ready?” he mumbles against my lips.

“Yeah.” I chew on my lip slightly as Matty moves over me, spreading my legs to invite him into the space between them. He lines himself up and taps my clit with his cock. It jolts me back to life and my eyes catch his. 

“There you are,” he smiles, beginning to push into me. I close my eyes, bracing myself. 

I can feel him sinking into me, getting deeper with every short thrust, coating himself in me. My ears are ringing and my skin is abuzz. It hurts a little bit, and I’m just about to decide whether I need to speak up when I feel Matty’s lips on my cheek, nuzzling me and asking for attention. I open my eyes to see Matty – the cocky boy I met at a party in my pajamas, whose very nature seemed custom-made to off-put me – hovering above me, his black pupils dilated and vast, lips plump and agape, heaving as though it’s taking everything in him not to fuck me bruisingly.

“You can move,” I say.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes, and wastes no time beginning to move his hips into mine. He rocks into me slowly at first and I try to remember what I’m supposed to focus on. Matty answers for me, taking my hands in his and pinning them above my head as he ramps up the pace, slamming his hips into mine with abandon.

I wrinkle my eyebrows and look into his eyes which bore down into me. I feel watched, lauded, revered even. Matty holds my hips and turns one leg over the other, so I’m lying in a fetal position. Then he leans down and brings his hand to my neck firmly, like a collar. Not enough pressure to even stop the blood rushing to my head. It’s sweet and dominating and ultimately reassuring. His other hand squeezes at the flesh of my ass as he re-enters me, moving faster than last time. I can feel him inside of me literally, in the places he's physically touching, as well as in every pleasurable nerve in my body. Matty forces my body to sing for him; he conducts it like a symphony. 

“Can you go a little faster, please,” I squeak out, and I’m instantly throttled by more pleasure, hot and hard. He moves faster than I thought possible and I can feel my body building to a high, tightening in anticipation.

“I’m gonna cum,” Matty gasps, “Fuck! Where do you want me to cum?”

“On me,” he pulls out a second later, holding his cock in his hand and pumping himself. 

A second later I’m covered in white drops of cum, like confetti or sweat or dew. 

“Fuck!” he pants, rolling over onto his side, “Let me get you a towel sorry I didn’t think.”

He stands and turns around, and it’s the first time I’m fully able to appreciate his nakedness. Taut, firm muscle decorates his back and descends into his ass and legs. I watch each ripple and flex absentmindedly as he grabs a washcloth from the wardrobe in the corner and returns to bed. He looks at me, body a mess of water and salt and cum, and gently wipes it all away. I gulp as he does, watching the methodical way he maneuvers the cloth, folding it each time he captures more of us inside of it. Inside of there is the only proof that we were ever real, I think. Despite the fact that Matty and I have been spending lots of time together recently, we don’t have any photos together. He hasn’t bought me anything I could point to as proof of his affection. When I tell my friends back in New York about him, they will just have to take my word for it. The real us will be scrubbed away on a metal washboard and hung out to line dry in the punishing midday sun. I won’t have someone to reminisce about it with because the only person who experienced it with me will be Matty, and he will be gone. 

I snap myself out of it. It’s typical of me to think about how things end before they’ve even begun. I think that, if I do that, somehow I’ll prepare myself for the hurt and then the reality will have a little less sting. In practice, things hurt whether we are prepared for them or not. Trying to measure whether they hurt less than they could have is a fool’s errand. I only get to experience things once. I’m infinitely limited that way.

Matty throws the rag away and focuses completely on me. I meet his eyes, suddenly unable to say anything. I think he wants me to say it was good or to ask a question or be mad at him or something. I don’t want to, I just want to be in this moment. I want to stretch it out like taffy and make it last forever: Matty panting quietly, blissed out next to me and me, quiet for once in my life with traces of him sticking to my body.

I move my head to his chest, squishing my face into him so he can’t implore me to speak any longer. I smell him and feel his firm muscles that support me from under tender, white skin. I feel my head ebb and flow on the surface of his swelling ribcage, a constant reassurance of some kind.

“Sorry, I kinda forget to breathe during sex,” he chuckles, heaving some more.

“I don’t mind,” I manage.

“Okay.”

I’m scared of the comedown. I’m scared he’ll want me to leave. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing. I’m scared of difficult questions. I just want this. This is comfortable, at least. 

“Do you compare me to her?” he whispers, index finger circling my shoulder blade. I frown.

“Who?” I ask.

“Your ex-girlfriend.” I chuckle a little bit.

“What’s to compare?” It’s a question but I make it sound more like a statement. Or I mean to, anyways.

“I dunno,” he drawls, “like how good I make you feel or somethin’.”

“No,” I answer, “definitely not that.” He sits up against the headboard and kicks the duvet off his legs.

“Other things then?”

“Do you compare your sexual partners to each other?” I ask.

“Not really, I guess,” he mutters. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know. It would last longer with her but that’s just how it is when it’s two girls,” I shuffle myself deeper into him, I want to show him that I want to be close to him. His hand comes up to my hair on instinct. “I don’t mind that you get tired or whatever, it’s just, like, different. I don’t know.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different. Like ‘ooooh’ and ‘aaaah,’ I guess. They both feel good, they're just a little different,” I look up at his face to make sure he believes me. 

“I’m sorry to make you give me the bisexuality crash course,” I smile into the soft skin that covers his pecs, “I suppose it makes me a little self-conscious. Knowing you’ve done all the stuff I do to you.”

“Well not all of it,” I chuckle at him. He swats my shoulder.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he says. I remember her; her hips and her whines. It hurts a lot less than it once did but it’s not quite devoid of any sting. 

“I do kind of wish I could experience it from a boy’s point of view,” I state. I debate whether I’ll tell him what I mean. I wouldn’t want him to see me as masculine or someone who doesn’t want him. My therapist would say that if he does think those things then he’s not right for me, but what if I don’t necessarily want him to be right? It’s not that I want him to be wrong, per se. I just want him to be exactly who he is. And, if who he is hurts me, I’m okay with that, I think. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sure I can handle being hurt. Not because I have some magic tonic to get over it, but because I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it hurting. Other people would hurt me anyway – coworkers, family members – but none of them are Matty. At least if he were to hurt me it would come from him. He would never hit me below the belt or lie to himself about me when I’m gone. In a funny way, that’s comforting. I trust him to hurt me.

“How so?” he prods me.

“Like to actually get to feel a girl on your own… genitals, I guess. Yeah, I mean there’s lots of great ways for women to have sex but there’s always some artificiality to it, I feel. It’s never gonna feel the same for me to fuck a girl as it does for you is what I’m trying to say.”

“What if it’s not supposed to?”

“Oh don’t go all philosophical on me. Wouldn’t you be upset if all of a sudden when you had sex with a girl you couldn’t feel your dick?”

“I suppose it is pretty awesome the way it is,” he concedes, “You can still feel it though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’ll end up hating me,” I bury my face into his shoulder, resenting that I even brought it up. 

“We don’t have to talk about it but I guess what I wanted to say was you can’t go around just wanting what you don’t have or you’ll miss what’s in front of you,” he says, “I know that sounds cheesy but I used to, like, go on tour and spend every minute missing my girlfriend. Even when I was stood in front of 10,000 people who were singing my most intimate thoughts back to me. But we don’t get to choose when and how we’re loved. All we can choose is where to place our own attention. So if I look out at the faces of a bunch of kids who spent their allowances to come and see me sing and I’m thinking about some other shit that I don’t have right now, I’m basically mugging them off. I’m being a dick, like rejecting their love. You can’t have sex with a girl and feel them the same way I can, okay whatever. But that’s not what makes it great anyways –  I mean sure, it’s part of it, but it’s not everything. Deep down you know that. It’s just … life’s not fair.”

I sit up on top of him so now my face hovers above his. “It’s fair enough,” I say, “at least right now it is.”

“I think so, too,” he smiles at me. Then I kiss him.

-

Around noon the next day, I find myself in the city center, food shopping for the villa. The yellow midday light caresses each uneven brick in the street, each metal cafe chair and table. It turns them from something cold and uninviting to something so bright it blinds me. I sit down at one of the local eateries to have a break before committing to the arduous hike back up the hill. I’ve scarcely ordered a glass of wine when I hear an old woman seeking my attention from the table over.

“Ciao, cara!” she addresses me as if she knows me. I figure she must be someone I’ve met before, or at least it’s better to assume that than the alternative.

“Ciao!” I fumble as I switch to a foreign tongue, “Non parlo italiano. Solo inglese.”

“It’s going to rain!” she says, animatedly. 

“Now?” I ask, stunned.

“Later,” she shakes her head, “You will need to go inside soon.”

I tilt my head back, letting the light overtake my field of vision. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to rain. It seems like a perfect summer day.

“Don’t trust the sun,” she barks, drawing my attention back down to Earth, “It will not give you any answers.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” she croons. A waiter brings a glass of white out to my table and I thank him for it. I sip on it, it’s fruity and light. Noncommittal. 

“You will never feel more alone than when you are stuck in the rain,” the woman continues, “I know it too well.”

“I’ve been feeling alone a lot recently. I’m just about used to it,” I try to console her, to show her she doesn’t need to worry about me.

“You will never be used to loneliness!” she gasps, “My husband died a decade ago and I am still lonely. I was with him for twenty-two years! Oh, I have my cats and my girlfriends, but I will always be lonely. One day he was here and then he was not. It’s mourning, it’s never over.”

“I hope that’s not true…”

“Believe it. Once you understand you cannot make it go away, then you can make peace with it,” she huffs, raising her wine glass to her lips, and I wonder how many portions preceded it. She shuffles her chair away from the table and begins to walk away.

“Goodbye, have a good afternoon,” I say, trying to ease the awkwardness that seems to be perceptible to only me.

“Ciao, cara,” she calls, “Believe it!”

I take a sip of my wine that evades categorizing and look up at the sky once more. Dark gray clouds have started to crowd the sunny expanse from the west. I hum to myself and turn the woman’s words over in my mind: You will never be used to loneliness. Believe it. 

-

Moonlight twinkles through the windows of the villa, tinting the warm room with coolness. The girls are out– some party I bailed on to spend time with Matty. I seem to be doing that a lot, lately. I want to be angry with myself for it, but I can’t find the will. I feel good when I’m with him. I’m not encumbered by my own self-perception. It’s like when I’m with him, I’m too preoccupied with him, learning about him, knowing him, to be concerned with what I’m missing out on. When I lie with him, I can’t begin to worry whether my tummy is too big or if my double chin is visible; all I want is to know more about Matty. I want to search his body, taking inventory of the innocuous tattoos that litter his legs, kissing each one with fervor, tasting the sweat that caresses every centimeter of his lush body. I want to know everything about him; I want to squeeze every bit of knowledge out of him until he’s begging me to take a turn answering questions. I want to know him completely.

I don’t know how to like someone a regular amount. I only know how to pine, and fall delusionally in love, and fuck it up. After all, what’s the point of being infatuated if you don’t feel your life is wildly improved with each second you spend with the other person? And if that’s the case, why wouldn’t you sacrifice everything to be in their presence?

Matty is sat up against the pillows in my pull-out bed. My head is in his lap and his hands tickle my scalp lightly. He brought along a record to play but it hasn’t been playing for a solid ten minutes at this point. Flipping it to the B-side would mean removing ourselves from one another, something neither of us is particularly keen on. 

“You don’t want to go out?” Matty speaks aloud, cutting through the comfortable silence we’ve fallen into.

“Not really,” I mumble. I meet his eyes, he doesn’t seem to understand. Probably not in his rockstar nature to stay home, I think.

“I won’t be able to enjoy it anyways,” I continue, “I go home so soon. If I drink, I’ll just start thinking about New York and I won’t be able to enjoy the present.”

“You’re a sad drunk? I thought you were an angry one. If memory serves,” he chuckles, recalling the night I stopped hating him.

“I think I’m just a kind of sad person,” I say, “Not in a bad way. Just I find it hard to live in the moment. I’m either stressing about the future or mourning the past.”

“I get it. It’s kind of fun to be nostalgic.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Why are you stressing about the future?”

“I’m not right now, I guess. Just thinking about you,” I smile up at him.

“Well what stresses you out about the future more generally?” he asks.

I look at him quietly, sitting up in his lap so my head is against his heart. What does stress me out about the future? It’s nothing in in particular, I suppose. It’s more the fact that I know no matter how much I plan, things will go wrong. People will leave me. I’ll never stick the landing quite as intended. Or maybe I will sometimes, but not all the time. There’s no safety net for me anymore. 

“Sometimes I just feel like a little girl who doesn’t have anyone to take care of her anymore,” I whisper. 

There are two sides to every coin. On one side is the reality that, without Claire, I feel freer than I have in a long time. I’m in Italy, doing exactly what I want. When I want to head out in the middle of the day and go to a museum, I don’t have to wait for anyone else to be ready. I don’t have to consider whether she’d like to go home when I’m out in the city. I can pick up a bouquet of flowers at the store without feeling like I should have waited to see if she would buy me some and feeling the resentment sneak in that she hasn’t. I can sprawl out on my pull-out bed and sleep whenever and however long I want. I’m living completely according to my own desires.

On the other side of the coin is the equally true fact that it’s harder to be alone. There’s no one to pick up my slack. No one who’s thought to make me dinner when I stay late at work. There’s no one built in to accompany me on errands that scare me or offer to do them in my place. There’s no one to notice that we’ve run out of paper towels and grab them from the store or pick up the check when I go out to eat. 

I miss the days when my mom would lay my school clothes out for me and make dinner without asking me what I wanted to eat. I miss the fact that my dad went to work every day without complaining and paid the mortgage without mentioning it to me. I could coast. Now I feel I’ll never coast again. The closest I’ll get is having someone to share those burdens with. 

I’m so tired. With miles and miles to go before the finish line, I find myself wondering what the end even is and whether it’s actually worth running towards.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, holding my head to him. 

“No, you won’t,” I tell him, “You have other things – other people – to take care of. There’s a time limit for how long you can take care of me.”

“Let me reach it. Don’t cast me out before the chips fall. Please.”

I look up into his endless brown eyes, filled with earnestness and itinerancy. I don’t know if I can let him. Despite the fact that I desire it so intently, I’m scared to believe that someone could care for me. I’m scared to let my guard down and get used to the help, to the tranquility, the comfortability of someone taking some of my burdens off my shoulders. As of recent, I am intimately aware that everything ends, and getting used to someone’s help only means it will be harder to move on. I’ll have to start flexing muscles that I haven’t used in years, that I don’t even remember how to engage. It’s happened with old friends and mentors. It happened with Claire. My independence and emotional fortitude atrophied due to lack of use. Those things aren’t easy to relearn. They were qualities I fought hard to develop and then cast out as soon as I realized I could get by without them. I consigned them to my partner all too willingly. I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t put myself in that kind of vulnerable position. It hurts too damn much.

The only knowledge that offers a modicum of relief is the fact that I’m not the only person who has gone through this. Every girlfriend my age has been in one of these relationships. We grew up in divorced or toxic households and learned very quickly that the story doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’. We learned that who we invited into our vicinity and into our homes was of the utmost importance and we treated those decisions with the requisite gravity: denying ourselves suitors and kisses – anything that could distract us from developing our own independence. Then we met someone we wanted to try with and we did everything with them. We made commitments and stuck to them through thick and thin, even when it was hard. And then, one by one, our partners stopped caring. They stopped wanting to figure things out, they started investing the sacrosanct learnings of our relationships into other people. They receded from us continually until we had to declare that there was nothing left there, instead of sparing us the pain of watching them retreat and feeling discarded by the first person we had truly chosen to trust. 

The skills I can gain back but I wonder if the betrayal will hurt forever. It sure seems like it will. Worse than that, it feels like I’ll want her back forever, even though I know she doesn’t want to try with me anymore. When I think of Claire, I still think of comfort and safety even though I also know of her seemingly infinite capacity to hurt me. I care more about being loved than being happy sometimes. My twisted mind thinks that being loveable is more important. It’s some kind of sick validation that I've been seeking all my life: I want to be loved. When I’m being loved seems to be the only time when my mind can truly quiet.

I’m crying, I can’t stop it. It’s a cosmic release I’ve been seeking for months: validation that what I’m experiencing is real and deserved and I’m not just some girl who got too attached like so many girls before her. I release the pain and the guilt. The guilt that I didn’t try hard enough, or treat her well enough. That maybe if I had compromised more – gone to stay with her family at Christmas, and given her more orgasms, and brought her breakfasts in bed – this never would have happened and I’d be contentedly walking under some scaffolding on 5th Avenue while acrid steam rises from the street with Claire’s hand in mine. I don’t want it anymore, I realize. For the first time ever, I don’t want her hand in mine. I want Matty’s.

I take his hand in mine and move to sit in his lap, one knee on each side of his body. As tears spill from the corners of my eyes, I lean to meet Matty’s mouth in a kiss, hungry and desperate. His hands find my face, frantically wiping the wetness from my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I insist as more tears fall. I rise to my knees and let my hands fall to the button of his jeans.

His hands cover mine, stilling them. “Seriously, y/n.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.” I look into his eyes trying to convince him by will alone. “I promise.”

His mouth is on mine before I can finish my words. It’s wet and warm and euphoric; it makes my skin buzz. I hope it does for him, too. I move my hands to his hair, clinging to him for dear life as he devours me. The kiss is so passionate that it seems the only way to be closer to him would be to consume him. I moan, loud and long, into his mouth and he swallows it, he swallows my inhibitions and my melancholia.

Matty’s hands slip under the hem of my shirt and gently trace up my sides as he rids me of my t-shirt. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra and Matty’s hands find my breasts on instinct as I return my attention to the button of his jeans, working diligently. He lifts his hips to help guide his pants and boxers off and slowly bends me backward onto the couch. I press a finger to his mouth as he tries to kiss me again.

“I need to be on top,” I breathe out, raggedly. “Is that okay?”

He nods, sitting up on the couch, naked from the waist down. I stand up, take my own pants off, and move back to him, hovering above him for a moment. 

Matty caresses my inner thigh, slowly traversing the skin closest to my pussy, playing languidly with the wetness around my hole that beckons him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this right now? I don’t want to be a bad guy.” 

“Please, you’re not,” I implore him, kissing his neck and jawline, “You’re not. I want you.” He removes his hand from my center and my brows crease in frustration. 

Matty holds my face in his hands like a precious china doll, touch firmly caring. Like he knows he could break me and he’s anxious to be sure he doesn’t. 

“I don’t ever want to hurt you. Ever. You get it?” 

“I know,” I say into his shoulder.

He slides his fingers inside me, finally, and my head falls to his shoulder as I feel him stretching me out. I whine into his shoulder as he fucks me gently with his fingers, moving them shallowly inside of me, searching for my spot. 

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks, looking into my eyes, praying that I answer him soberly.

I nod dumbly, reaching for his cock below me. I look at it and put my hand on it testingly, feeling him warm and throbbing for me. I move him towards my core and sink down onto him, eyes closing, body yielding to pleasure.

I begin to rock my hips back and forth on him, feeling the delicious pressure on my clit mix with the fullness of him inside me. I feel high, pliable, and vulnerable.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I do it on instinct. I don’t even think. I just want to please him so badly. I know he knows me. I know he’ll take care of me. He answers all my questions with a simple action or turn of phrase. 

“Good girl.” The words go straight to my head, inducing some kind of fantastical euphoria in my brain. His words are like a puzzle piece that has been missing my whole life. Every minute I spent on my knees praying to God, every project I submitted in school — they were all desperate attempts to hear those two words, to begin believing that I could be good. That I wasn’t inherently evil and my nature wasn’t sinful. Despite the fact that I’ve been mean to my friends and selfish when I have things to give, I want to be told that I’m okay anyway. It’s all I’ve wanted to be my whole life, good. And to Matty, I am. It feels like the most right thing in the world. I’d do anything to be good for him, to hear those words one more time. I let the tenderness and oxytocin wash over me, bringing more tears to my eyes as he begins to lift his hips up to meet mine. 

“I’m good?” I squeak out softly, panting and hazy.

“You’re good, baby,” he assures me with a kiss to my lips. It’s hungry and messy and it spurs me on; I ride him harder, faster. I buck into him over and over until numbness begins to crowd the taut muscles of my thighs.

“Let me take a turn,” he says, lifting me off him and laying me down on my back on the couch, “That okay?”

I nod eagerly. Matty holds onto my hips as he begins to nudge into me again, bringing my thighs closer to him than I had ever thought possible as he does.

My whole consciousness is him. I can remember to open my eyes only for seconds at a time. When I do, my whole vision is filled with him: his mouth agape and panting roughly, body falling into me repeatedly, eyes boring into mine, begging me to yield to him.

His hand moves to my clit, rubbing it in time with each perfect thrust. I’m happy, fuzzy, free, and savoring each pleasurable touch like I’ve been starved and Matty is the first food I’ve seen in days.

“Can you cum for me?” he asks, almost nervous.

I nod deliriously, taking his hand in mine – a sinful inversion of his actions the first time we fucked – and use it against my clit the way I need. Matty grunts primally in response and captures my lips between his, moaning into my open mouth. It’s filled with want – no, need. Made hotter by the fact that I know I need him just as badly. 

The pressure on my clit and inside me builds to its hilt and spreads all over my body. I’m cumming over and over, completely unbridled and without warning. I can feel myself clenching around Matty repeatedly, inadvertently. I can vaguely feel him finishing inside of me, more from warmth and wetness than anything else. It’s a foreign feeling, really, but it fills me with pride. Despite my own high, I’m happy to have made him feel good. 

Matty falls into me, resting his head on my breast. I envelop him in my arms, feeling the soft cotton of his t-shirt soaked through with sweat beneath my fingertips. We lay like that, breathing together heavily, until we both fall asleep without a word.

-

A few days later, the whole city is quiet. The people on the street don’t make any noise. The birds in the trees outside my windows open their mouths but no piercing tweet emerges. I watch everything around me as though in a silent film, guessing at what the actors could mean and want. Today is the day. My ears are ringing uncontrollably.

Today is the day that Matty is leaving.

It feels like the time has come without warning, even though I’ve been dreading this hour and minute for weeks. I keep telling myself not to worry because it’s not here yet, but that’s no longer true. Matty is in my bathroom. He stayed the night last night, tangled up in me. I brewed espresso this morning like usual, without a word. We drank it in bed and for once I didn’t complain when he spilled on Nina’s sheets. I just smiled. Angry breath would be wasted on him today. Besides, a stain would be something to remember him by.

Matty emerges, wiping his hands on his sweatpants and ambling over to me. He stands cautiously in front of me. He knows he’s about to hurt me and he doesn’t want to. He made it clear from the start, he never wanted to.

I grab his middle suddenly, unable to stand being away from him any longer. Unable to stand the awkwardness of the pain we have to cause each other. It’s an inevitable. Like a meteor on its course, we were always going to reach this destination. It was unspoken, but it was better that way. I have to believe it was better that way. 

I can smell him. How long will it be until I can smell him again? I preemt the tears by speaking.

“Call me if you’re ever in New York,” I say with my cheek to his linen shirt. There’s a warmth radiating from him that calms me even though I’m anxious for him to leave. I know it will be hard.

“You know I will, baby.” His voice reverberates through the flesh of his chest and the thin fabric of his shirt. I can feel his voice touching me. He hooks his fingers under my chin, easing my face towards his. “You’re always gonna be my good girl, yeah?”

I nod because it’s all I can do. I know it’s not true but it feels so good to pretend for a second that it is. That we’re meant to be together and we’ll always be thinking about the other, even when we get old and we’re married or have kids. 

He ruffles my hair and walks out the front door. I watch his curls bob through the window of the villa as he descends the hill for the final time this summer. I look around at my surroundings, the empty room that allows the faint sound of shrieks in from the pool outside.

I suppose I will keep him with me, in a way. He’ll always be the lover who hurt me the least. He never got the chance to give up on me. He never had to yell or cry to end our relationship, he just had to leave. We both had to. It was never really a choice.

Everything is still where it used to sing for him. The sheets will no longer ruffle, the coffee will stay un-drunk. He’s gone and it hurts so acutely. His absence is so heavy on my shoulders. 

And for the first time in my life, I know I can bear it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling out my aunts absolutely dogshit parenting at a family birthday party?

I (21F) cannot stand one of my aunts.  My uncle died 7 years ago and she is his widow, we are not blood related. She is the trashiest parent I have ever met and what she has done this year has just crossed a fucking line.

My cousin, her daughter, Lola turned 16 this year. Within ONE WEEK of her turning 16, she announced that she had a boyfriend, Ben. Ben went to school with me. He is 22. I am 100% convinced that he started pursuing Lola when she was under the age of consent (we’re in the UK, AOC is 16) and is a sneaky shit that waited just long enough that we wouldn’t be able to prove it. I have tried. He’s covered his tracks well and Lola is head over heels and won’t say anything to incriminate him.

Why am I angry with my aunt? This dumb bitch, instead of doing anything at all to stop the nonce taking advantage of her child LET BEN MOVE IN WITH HER AND LOLA. He got fired for racially abusing a Muslim colleague, fell behind on his rent, got evicted and my aunt just let him move in with them! Ben is the fucking worst. He’s utter scum. He’s always been utter scum since primary school, and she was just like “yeah most terrible person in the area, come and live with me and my CHILD that you’re abusing”.

I completely understand that she cannot control what Lola does outside of her house. I get that. I also completely get that she is not at fault for Ben's actions. I'm not about to blame a woman for a man's disgusting perversions. What do not get, and will never, EVER understand is how on earth she could let him MOVE IN!!!

I was already angry. I was even more angry when I found out, four months after Ben moved in, that Lola was 12 weeks pregnant. So…she’s keeping it. And it was consieved after the scum moved into the house.

My aunt let the nonce move in. She is partially responsible for this clusterfuck. And she was invited to my grandma (82F)’s birthday party. The party was two days after I found out about the pregnancy. 

(Lola and Ben did not attend the party, just my aunt.)

I was talking to grandma and a different cousin when my aunt came in and tried to join the conversation. It seemed I wasn’t doing a good job at hiding my disgust, and she asked me what my problem was. Well, she asked, and I told her.  I said what I had said above (grandma + cousin didn’t know the full extent of it, and I made them aware), and called my aunt a terrible parent who should be utterly ashamed of how much she’d failed to look after her child. I said that my uncle would be ashamed of her. I said that Ben was a paedophile and Lola needed to get away from him as soon as possible. My aunt stormed off then and we’ve not spoken since.

My grandma said that while my sentiment was correct, I’d been a bit harsh to her, as we don’t know the full details, and it might have been a compromise to keep Lola around rather than have her run off with Ben. I don’t know, but I still think she’s a failure of a parent.

What are these acronyms?

[appalesbian]

The @wilcze-kudly Avatar Hottest Woman Tournament got me inspired to write a silly little drabble. @korrasamibottles this one’s for you.

The door to the home gym was cracked, and Asami couldn’t help herself. It promised to be a long day at Future Industries and nothing motivated her like catching a glimpse of who she would be coming home to.

She tiptoed into the home gym to find Korra at the punching bag, hitting and kicking in rapid-fire sequences. Asami was temporarily mesmerized by the fluid grace of Korra’s movements coupled with the immense power that fueled them. She had clearly been at it for a while, if the rivulets of sweat dripping down the small of her back were any indication. Asami had half a mind to collect them with her tongue…

“Stupid fucking-“ Korra spat with a particularly strong kick to the bag, followed by a one-two punch. “-bullshit, what do they know-“

Asami frowned. Korra had mellowed considerably in the years they’d been together and it seemed unlike her to be so upset, especially so early in the day.

"Are you okay, love?” Asami asked. Korra jumped and spun around mid-swing.

“Ah, ‘Sams, you scared me.”

"Sorry." Asami pressed a kiss to the crown of Korra's head. "I wanted to see you before I left for work. What’s got you so upset?"

"You haven't seen?"

"Seen what?"

Korra's eyes blazed. She bent down to retrieve a piece of newsprint that lay crumpled on the floor next to the free weights.

"The fucking... poll."

Asami looked at the crinkled paper. The headline of whatever section this was (Living? Culture?) proclaimed "Republic City's Hottest Dame! YOU Decide!"

Asami snickered.

"This is supposed to be news? They’ll print anything these days.”

“Keep reading!” Korra insisted.

Asami skimmed through the article, something about giving the citizens the power to choose the city’s most attractive woman by mail-in ballot, until she came upon her own name.

“Asami Sato, CEO of Future Industries and wife to Avatar Korra, was a shocking casualty of the second round of voting, losing by a slim margin to Republic City Police Chief Lin Beifong, the new statistical favorite moving forward in the competition.”

Asami laughed.

“Good for Lin! She’s beautiful, the people are right. Maybe this’ll help her learn to take a compliment.”

Korra stared at her.

“But they chose her over you!” Korra exclaimed. “You, of all people! You! Have you seen yourself? There’s never been a more beautiful woman in the history of the world! It’s an outrage!”

Asami smiled and pulled Korra into an embrace, not minding at all that she was now at least 20% as covered in sweat.

“You’re so sweet.”

“I’m not sweet, I’m right!” Korra protested. “I mean, yeah, Beifong’s pretty hot, I’ll admit it, but these people have the nerve— the fucking nerve— to say that my wife isn’t Republic City’s ‘hottest dame?’”

“People have different tastes.”

Korra still glared in the direction of the newspaper in Asami’s hand

“You really don’t need to be offended on my behalf,” Asami reassured, releasing Korra from her hold. She sniffed exaggeratedly and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “I promise, I’ll make it through somehow.”

“Okay,” Korra grumbled. “I was going to go have a word with the editor of the Republic News, but I probably don’t have to do that, huh.”

“Nah, it’s all good.”

A moment later, a thought occurred to Asami.

“Wait a minute, are you in that competition?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Korra said nonchalantly.

Asami read through the remaining contestants.

“Yes, you are! And hey, look, you made it through this round!”

“Heh, good for me.”

“I was going to say,” Asami chuckled. “If you weren’t, I’d lose all faith in the people of Republic City.”

The softly flattered look in Korra’s big blue eyes was too much. Asami pulled her in for a kiss, letting it express anything more she might have said about how incredibly lucky she felt that Korra was in her life. Korra kissed back eagerly and held her tight.

“So,” Korra said, eventually coming up for air. “Should we look at the rest of the bracket and place our bets?”

“Yeah,” Asami laughed and opened the spread to see the full bracket of contenders. “Wait a minute… is that my mom?”

FIN

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

it would be so mean to just leave me like this

plum, chapter eighteen

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, smut, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in Jackson), age gap (20 years), rape recovery, ptsd, kissing, masturbation, dirty talk

word count: 1024

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You had no idea when the lazy morning kisses had turned into something more, something that both felt like falling asleep, but also like you were overflowing with a sudden energy as fire spread throughout your body. 

Completely lost in the moment, sprawled out on top of Joel’s form, completely pressed against him as your tongue danced softly against his own, it was first when you picked up on the muffled sighs coming from your partner that you noticed the way your hips needily rocked against his own. When they had decided to seek out what they craved, you didn’t know, but you weren’t gonna stop them now, you couldn’t, it simply felt too incredible. 

“Plum,” Joel groaned, though you just hummed in return as your lips wandered over his stubbly jaw, “fuck, just-,” with an arm still around your form resting on top of his, he gently rotated your bodies causing you to plop down on the mattress next to him, “hi, good morning,” he painstakingly reeled his head back from yours.

Curling your leg back up over his hip, you purred back, “it is a really good morning, isn’t it?” the tent in his boxers nudging against your throbbing core as you nuzzled back into him, your eyelids fluttering at the sensation. 

“Maybe it’s about time we, uh, get up?” he sucked in a deep breath, obviously attempting to simmer down the result of your escalated tender beginning to the day. 

“Nah, I’d much rather stay here with you a little longer,” you breathed, “don’t you?” batting your eyelashes up at him.

“I-, fuck, of course, but-”

“But what?” your fingers slid across his cheek, weaving them through his beard. 

“Don’t you think we should stop before something happens?”

“We could,” you tried your best to keep the traumatic door he was scratching at closed, “but I’m just letting you know that if you get up now, I’ll just take matters into my own hands… do you really wanna get up and leave when you know I’ll be right here thinking about you?” 

“I just don’t want you to-”

“Me neither,” you shook your head quickly as you cut his worry short, “please, Joel,” your words dripping with desperation as you grabbed his wrist and pulled down between your bodies, “I’m so fucking wet right now,” you cupped his palm against the soaked cotton between your thighs, “it would be so mean to just leave me like this.”

Listening as his breathing grew weightier, his eyes fluttered a moment as he thought it over, hand not moving an inch, “you sure?”

“I promise I will tell you if it changes,” you swore, feeling like a wildfire was tearing through your body, then let out a whimper as you felt his hand slowly withdraw, “please.”

Looking you deeply in the eye, he nodded softly, “okay.”

“Okay?” you asked, still dumbfoundedly clawing at his retracting hand. 

“Okay, go ahead,” he clarified, caressing your confused fingers a moment before tangling his own with them, “I’m not gonna stop you from making yourself feel good.” 

Letting out a jagged exhale as a soft smile bloomed on your lips, you tilted your chin up and crashed your lips into his, your relieved giggle vibrating into the kiss. 

Dipping your fingers below your waistband, even just the lightest touch against your buzzing clit had you letting out a deliciously desperate sound that made you break from his adoring lips. Feeling them linger on your face a moment longer, softly pecking your flushed cheek and the tip of your nose, he then pulled back a bit, his free hand sliding up to the side of your face as he gazed lovingly at your blissful expression.

Feeling the hand clutching yours not let go as you had assumed it would, on the contrary, you felt it tighten its grip and squeeze yours encouragingly as the sloppy sounds emanating from between your legs filled the bedroom, “are you gonna join me?”

“No,” his genuine smile smooshed lightly against the pillow beneath his face as his thumb caressed your cheekbone softly, “I’m good right here.”

“But-”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine, this is all I want, all I need, just seeing you touch yourself like this right in front of me, watching you give yourself exactly the kind of pleasure you want, hearing those beautiful sounds you make, fuck…” he said, giving you all of the control, “yeah, I’m good.”

Staring back into his kind eyes in amazement, you breathed out just the remnants of a smile and uttered, “okay.”

“Just do what feels good, plum,” he encouraged, sharing your breath as you kept up the tight circles you drew over your puffy little pearl, “what you like,” he broke the intense eye contact and rested his forehead against your own, “what you need.” 

His deep voice made your eyes flutter. The heated morning make-out session had worked you up so much that you barely needed anything more in order to reach that sought-after high. If he hadn’t stopped you before, if it had just lasted a minute longer you would have probably cum right there, rubbing yourself against his strong thigh. So, the addition of his words was almost too much to bear.

Lifting your entangled hands up towards his lips, he kissed your knuckles gently, tilting his head back to admire your electric expression, how your brows knitted together and your mouth hung agape. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he uttered as your moans gradually grew louder and you found yourself tumbling over the edge before you even realised you’d reached it. 

After your legs had relaxed from their light flailing and your breath began to come in more gently, completely dazed, you stared up at Joel as he soon asked carefully, “are you okay?”

“Holy shit…” you breathed as you sluggishly slipped your wet fingers back out of your underwear.

His large hand still on the side of your face, he searched your fuzzy eyes, “plum? Are you-”

“Y-yeah, fuck,” you tightened your hand in his and lulled forward, resting your forehead against his once again, “I’m-, yeah… I’m good…” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[queenwille]

IDF: Israeli Defense Forces

Defending themselves from what? Displaced Palestinians hiding out in buildings? The children?

Cause last I saw, Palestine weren’t the ones with white phosphorus missiles bombing Israel every other day and wiping out the population,

wait wait wait, let me start at the very beginning- your question about what does israel have to defend itself a is joke, right…? please tell me you did not come in here to waste my time without doing the bare minimum and research something. you owe me that much if you’d like me to take you seriously.

look, idk at which point did you tune into the west’s favorite reality show which is the middle east crisis, but i honestly don’t have the time nor the patience to catch you up in all of the episodes you’ve missed up until now and that’s even if we only focus on the gaza area. what can i say, some of us were just lucky enough to be born into this. others, such as yourself, have the world wide web for free, go wild.

mmm values. that’s the thing, all those spicy stories you’ve mentioned there? y’all know about them, but you people never catch up about how the IDF took them one by one to military trail for misconduct. nah, why should you care about that part? it ruins your whole immature narrative about the bad guys, huh? y’all would rather stick to the pathetic narrative where this is a fairytale where there are big bad IDF monsters and poor little princesses to save. well, sorry, but life’s more complex than that. yep, the good guys can do bad things and the bad guys can actually not be just bad. it’s called real life. not one angry anon, like yourself, has ever asked me, or any other identifying zionist, what we think about any of those morally questionable issues, y’all just keep assuming what we think and dehumanizing us, but somehow we keep being labeled as the bigots over and over again.

i’m glad you’ve mentioned those tiktok dances because those are usually soldiers who don’t even fight in combat and y’all like to attack them online so much. many of them are not even armed. you know which other soldiers were unarmed? the female soldiers murdered (16, one of them by a doctor in captivity in gaza) or taken hostage (7, one rescued, one murdered, 5 still held hostage to this day) on october 7th. shocking, i know, but not all IDF soldiers are armed. did it matter?

me signaling? do you see me giving out random twitter posts by FUCK KNOWS WHO as valid sources? no? so no, i don’t take it as a valid source. sorry, friend. and my best bud al jazeera? besides the fact that they’ve been proven and, i believe, even admitted to exaggerating with their death tolls, they’re funded by the qatari government. i’ll let you google who qatar used to house before israel —— him and who else it supports financially (spoiler: both start with H). other than that, for good measures, when i’d like to give out a source, i usually avoid using, not only israeli sources, but also jewish ones. just looking out for all of my antisemites out there. 🫡

when did i call it an accident? find me one time time i referred to a palestinian death as an accident. go on, i’ll wait. that’s right, i didn’t. there is though, a difference i make between the people massacred on october 7th and people who get killed as a result of war and y’all never seem to like that. don’t get me wrong, i find both to be horrific, but there’s a very clear difference between being gunned down, raped, abused, mutilated, tied down with cables and more to getting hurt/killed as a result of being unfortunate enough to live at an active warzone. i say this btw about israelis who, unfortunately, got killed/hurt from the missiles fired from gaza during this war as well… and soldiers. it’s just not the same, i’m sorry. what happened on october 7th was purely dystopian and the fact that so many of you keep trying to deny/ignore/justify/compare it to anything else, despite hamas (unlike the nazis) not covering even one drop of blood shed or even part of their intentions, is really baffling. even more so in the 21st century when literally everything is at the palm of your hands. it truly is amazing how much you’re willing to ignore just to feed your white savior complex by patronizing and forcing your western white ideology on terrorist organizations such as hamas.

never have i said to mind your own business. i personally believe that it’s important to be informed and get engaged outside of your very own bubble. hell, i’m a SW student who majors in community work/activism. i do have a few questions though. do you do it cause you’re entitled to? i mean, because your taxes paid for it? so like, you paid a ticket for the show and now you deserve in? like when you vote for your favorite singer on the the voice? that’s the thing, many of you come in here, wanting your slice of the matter, while thinking that reading a little on social media is enough. it’s not. be respectful.

[drummergetwicked]

Jason x Reader

Literally Dozens Of Us

(Or, Less Hoodies, More Chest Hair)

By Drummergetwicked

CW: None, just more romantic silly fluff.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” You say as you look over to Jason. You’re both just getting dressed for your day and he’s put on a pair of nice jeans that are cuffed at the bottom, a pair of brown leather dress shoes, white undershirt, baby blue button-down and a lightweight dark green sweater. Jason and his many layers. Both literally and figuratively. He smiles at you as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Your favorite. Those forearms do you in. “Mmmm slutty forearms.” You think to yourself.

“Who me? Nah. I’m just ok. I’m just a guy.” You roll your eyes in protest “Just ok? Just a guy? You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Jason, do you not know the effect you have on women? The effect you have on me?”. You sashay over to him and wrap your arms around his neck to look deep into those eyes that drive you mad and lay a big fat kiss on those lips. “Now what’s that for?” He coyly asks as he wraps his arms around you. “You being so damn sexy and also adorable.” “I’m no such thing. You flatter me.” He protests.

“Ok, now stop this right now Jason, I’m not having it. You need to learn to take a compliment. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make you see just how fucking devastatingly desirable I think you are.” You look sternly into his hazel eyes because you mean business.

“Oh yeah, and how’s my girl gonna do that, sweet cheeks?” He grins and teases you with love nips at your neck. “Mmmmm… well first let me just say that if I had my way, you’d never hide that body in a hoodie ever again. I’d burn them all in a dumpster fire and fine you whenever you tried to put one on.”

He laughs one of those full bodied laughs against your body and goes “Holey moley,why?! You don’t want me to be comfortable?” You’re laughing with him, “of course, I know my boy loves being comfy. And your body your rules. But if I had my way…. Gone. All of them.”

“So tell me, why are they gone if you had your way?”

“Well for starters, they hide the physique that drives me feral. I love your body, Jason. I love every single thing about it. The more I see, the more I go crazy for you. I love seeing you in something that accentuates your fine as hell features.” You lay sweet little kisses and nips on his neck and jawline. You both slightly swaying together to a song softly playing in the background.

“Noted. I like it when you dress in a way that accentuates your fine ass features, too…” he winks as he grabs your ass. You give him a look of mock disapproval. “But come on, it’s not like I’m Brad Pitt or Ryan Gosling over here. I’m just dad bod Jason Sudeikis.” Laughing, you retort “oh honey. Dad bod Jason Sudeikis is fucking sexy and loads of women agree with me.”

“Who? I need names and numbers.” You roll your head back and laugh. “Honey, never you mind. Just know that there are literally dozens of us.” You play slap his shoulder. “Ok, so dozens of women like dad bod Jason. Why? Why not Brad Pitt or Ryan Gosling?” You roll your eyes again.

“Well that’s a silly question. Sure, they’re objectively handsome, but that’s doesn’t mean they’re my type or that I’m attracted to them. Are you attracted to every objectively attractive woman you meet? I mean, you never made a move on Hannah, right? That woman is a straight up goddess.”

“Ok, true.” He ponders. You continue: “For every woman lusting for Ryan Gosling there’s one foaming at the mouth for Seth Rogan. We all like what we like and I foam at the mouth for you and your dad bod. When you dress like this? I go bonkers. When you wear something that reveals just a tiny bit of chest hair? I could chew on live wires. You’re hot.” “Yeah? So less hoodies, more chest hair?” He asks sweetly and softly against your ear. “Mmmmhmmm, dear lord, yes please.”

“Anything else I can do for you my love?”

“Don’t ever touch those gray temples again. Color your hair if you must, but those temples are mine. You can pry them from my cold dead hands.” You grab and shake his shoulders in play indignation. He laughs and sighs. “Ok. Deal. You got it. More chest hair and leave the temples alone.”

“And less hoodies? Just a little?”

He rolls his eyes and groans: “Fiiine, less hoodies.”

“Yaaaay! Paise be to the lord on this fine day!” You both start cackling and dancing around like two idiots in love.

***Let me know if you want to be tagged in these. There are a few more, just search “Jason x reader” in my blog***

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for wanting to demonstrate my leadership skills?

I (12M) was recently stranded on an island with my choir. I attend a private boys school, and lead my choir as chapter chorister and head boy. So you can tell I am very experienced when it comes to leadership. (For reference, the boys in my choir are all ages 5-13.)

While the group of us were recuperating after the plane crash that stranded us, we heard a trumpeting noise, and went to go locate the source. We came across a blond boy (12M) holding a conch shell and his fat fuck (12M) of a friend. We’ll call them R and P, respectively.

Now, I liked R in the beginning. He seemed sensible, fun, nice. The group of boys (my choir + some others) decided to pick a chief amongst us for our stay on the island. Now, obviously, I’m the correct choice. I’m chapter chorister, I’m head boy, and I can sing C#. But with the exception of my choir, everyone decided to vote for R, because he has a fucking shell and is handsome. Upsetting. However, R decided to let me lead a group of hunters on the island (there were a lot of pigs there).

As time went on, I began focusing on hunting. R, however, became a wet blanket. He lit a signal fire with P’s glasses, and demanded that we had to take turns watching it. While we started our friends, R and me began fighting about which was more important— hunting for food or keeping the fire going. On top of that, a lot of boys had begun speculating there was a beast on the island, and I think R handled the existence of said beast poorly. We all went hunting for it one day, and when R rejected the idea of my hunters finding it and fighting, I’d had it with getting my ideas shot down. I knew I was a capable leader, and R was just too stuck up to see it. Angry, I left R’s tribe and became my own chief.

A few days later, my tribe was the dominant one. We had hunting parties and feasts, and even managed to steal fire from R’s tribe. Unfortunately, that also meant that we had to kill some people in the process. P, for example, was a casualty, along with a choir boy we accidentally killed in lieu of the beast.

Right now, R’s tribe is completely disbanded and we’re going to hunt for him. I think I’m a pretty good leader, but I’m having some doubts. AITA?

TL;DR wet blanket chief won’t let me hunt, so I start a new fun tribe and am going to hunt him down

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Ten.

Oh, oh now what do we have here, besties? Do we have the lesser-seen DOUBLE UPDATE day today? We do. Are you getting TWO NEW CHAPTERS? You are! Why? I felt like giving you a little treat, so yeah, enjoy some James and Ella twice!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,528

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Oi, walking flea circus. Get up.” 

Snedders frowned, his head pounding as he blindly reached for where he’d placed his watch, looking at the time. 11:02am. Far too early. “Jim, chill out, man. It’s early. I’m in bed, still.” 

“You ain’t in bed, you’re on our fucking sofa, now shift it!”  

He groaned, heaving himself up, reaching to the can of lager he’d left on the table and downing what was left. “Aw, fuck. Can’t even let a man enjoy his hangover, ya twat.” 

“Newsflash, Snedders; you’re a fucking guest! I live here. Maybe stop pissing Kerry off and you’ll be allowed home for longer than a week at a time, innit,” he spoke, setting his tea down and shoving the blankets up the sofa to take a seat, Snedders finally rising to begin folding them up.  

“Proper full of shit, you are. If you could, you’d have been just as fucking leathered as I was last night, but no.” 

“Well, if I want my meds to work, I can’t,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette. “And that weed Gaz got? Fuck, it was good.” 

“Oh, I know,” he spoke, pulling out his rolling tobacco pouch as he sat down again, constructing himself a cigarette. “You put the share price in Mcvitties through the fucking roof all on your own. How many packets of chocolate digestives did you munch your way through?” 

“Three,” he laughed. “What’s your point?” 

“Fat bastard,” he smirked, licking the rolling paper. 

“Oi, I ain’t the one with the gut, you gobby dickhead. Total bullshit.” 

Snedders snorted, shaking his head. “Suck. My. Cock.” 

“You. Fucking. Wish,” James fired back, looking up as Steve’s bedroom door opened, the rather dishevelled man himself stepping out.  

“Both of you, never, ever let me drink ouzo again,” he groaned, heaving. “I keep burping aniseed.” Another heave. 

“If you’re gonna honk your guts up, get in that bathroom, fucks sake,” James spoke, pointing in the direction of it.  

Steve stood and mulled it over, rubbing his bare stomach. “Nah, mate, think I’m alright.” A few seconds elapsed. “Nah, I’m gonna puke. Make me a coffee while I go see that fucking kebab again.”  

“You want a tea, Sneds?” James asked, rising from the sofa again and walking over to the kitchen area.  

“That’s about the best thing that’s come out of your fat gob all morning. Four sugars, please. I need to get myself alert, man.” Just then, the noise of high heels emanated from Steve’s bedroom, the door opening to reveal a knockout of a girl emerging.  

The guys looked at each other puzzledly, then back at her. “When’d you get here, princess?” James asked, the girl giving him a good look up and down. 

“After you two had passed out. Steve called me at about three, but now I’m seeing you shirtless, I wish I’d had a go on you as well while I was here,” she purred, James grinning widely. “That’s some body you’ve got yourself.” 

“I try,” he smirked, the girl sauntering towards the door, Snedders sitting there with his tongue hanging out. As soon as the door was closed... 

“Did you see the arse on that?” 

James laughed filthily. “Top grade, innit?” Preparing the drinks, he brought them back to the coffee table, flopping down and reaching over to the small table covered in music magazines and an overflowing ashtray, pressing the answering machine. No messages.  

“You seem to be checking that a bit obsessively, Jim,” Snedders remarked, giving his tea a good blow before the first careful sip. How he’d missed James’s tea; he was the only person he knew who actually made it well.  

“Waiting on a call,” he shrugged. 

“Who from?” 

“His new bird!” Steve announced loudly as he entered the room, looking a lot less pale than when he’d left it, wet hair indicating he’d also jumped into the shower after his visit with the toilet bowl.  

Snedders turned, mouth open. “What the... You’ve been out of the nuthouse for a grand total of two weeks, and you’ve pulled a new girl already? Fucking hell, mate! Leave some for the rest of us, eh?” 

“Pulled her while he was still in there, the fucking tart.” 

“You fucking what?” The bellowed reaction sent the pair into fits, Snedders sitting there wide eyed, offering his hand. “Only you, my man. Only you.”  

James shook it, still laughing. “I do well for myself everywhere I go. It’s my raw charm, mate. Girls can’t get enough of it.”  

“Ain’t because you’re a pretty boy, with pretty hair, and girls can groom you like you’re a giant My Little Pony?” 

He snorted. “At least I am pretty, you fucking riffy flea bag.” 

“Oil! Enough of that, or you’ll be wearing this tea!” Snedders warned, sending him into laughter all over again. Saturday mornings with his mates, drinking tea, chatting shit, having fun. God, he’d missed it while he’d been away. “Right, I’m making breakfast. Fucking starving. Could eat a badger with enough ketchup on it.” He’d also missed Snedders cooking, too. While he sat and awaited Warwickshire’s best full English to be assembled, a few miles away in Rugby, Ella was in a panic. 

“Jane!” she called through her sister’s bedroom door. “Are you awake?” 

It opened, revealing a slightly sleep ruffled person, still in one of the huge t shirts she always wore to bed. “Well if I wasn’t, I bloody would be now, wouldn’t I?”  

“Good, I bleedin’ need to stress out and I don’t want to do it by myself,” she spoke, handing her one of the two cups of tea in her grasp before moving past her, sitting down on the edge of the messy bed in an equally messy bedroom. “What the hell do I even wear tonight? I don’t have any clothes that scream rock club vibe!” 

Indeed she did not, all of her old clothes either in extra small adult or child sizes, Ella’s current jobless status meaning her wardrobe was meagre at best. With only a few hundred pounds left in her bank account that she’d allocated for other expenses, she didn’t want to splurge on a new outfit either. Luckily for her, though, she and Jane were now the same size.  

“Okay, let me have some of this tea and a fag first while I contemplate.” A few puffs on a Marlboro Light and a couple of swigs of Tetley later, and Jane had an idea. “Okay, we go sexy but understated. A pair of my skintight jeans, a simple black vest and those platform boots you have, the sexy stripper style ones. All that and a Wonderbra and sis, that man, his dick, boing!” 

Ella almost spat her tea out. “Trust me, he doesn’t need any further amping up in that department. If he got hard kissing me when I was still a bony mess who dressed in nothing but baggy clothes, then, well…” 

“He’ll be able to pogo himself on his own hard on when he sees you looking all swit swoo and sexy in what I have in mind!”  

Oh, how she had missed her sister, Jane truly her best friend as well as her only sibling. The three women of the house were bonded very closely, and had been since the girls’ father had walked out on the family back when Ella was five, and Jane seven. Seventeen years on and neither truly remembered Owen Featherstone, not even keeping his surname. Both had changed to their mother’s maiden name of Greenhall. 

Speaking of April, once Ella had tried on and approved the outfit choice advised, she headed downstairs for a very late breakfast while Jane took a bath, her mum smiling widely as she entered the kitchen. 

“How’s my chicken?” she asked warmly, Ella moving to place the mugs in the dishwasher. 

“Good for having a lie in,” she smiled, moving to the fridge and pulling out a couple of eggs as well as the tub of Flora. “I’m enjoying all the comforts of home, including my old bed. I will get out of your hair eventually, when I get a job sorted.” 

April stood from her seat at the small counter, reaching to stroke her hair. “Stay as long as you like, sweet girl. I don’t mind.” Gesturing to the eggs, she raised an eyebrow curiously. “Scrambled on toast?” 

They just happened to be her mum’s specialty breakfast dish. “Yes, please.” 

“Take a seat, chicken.” Moving with her usual fluid grace, she cracked the eggs into a bowl, grabbing the whisk to blend whites with yolks. A pan was then fetched, a little curl of Flora placed in before setting the pan upon the hob. “One slice of toast?” 

“Please.” 

The breadbox was the next stop. “Jane tells me you’re off to that club on the high street with her tonight,” April commented, placing one slice of Hovis wholemeal into the toaster. “Odd choice for you, being the very antithesis to the music you like.” 

“Yeah, but I have good incentive, though,” she spoke, her mum turning to her with a knowing grin. 

“Is that incentive named James, per chance?” 

Immediately, her cheeks coloured, her face pinching. “Yes.”  

“Oooooh!” 

“Mum, no! No ooooh!” 

“Oooooh!” 

Immediately, she hid behind her hands. “Mum, please!” 

April couldn’t help but chuckle, turning the hob on beneath the pan. “Does he even know you’re going to be there? As far as I’ve seen, your attempts to call him have all been unsuccessful.”  

Indeed, Ella’s nerves had firmly gotten in the way, her stomach awash with the dance of many butterflies over the last week and a half. “He doesn’t, no. Jane says that the element of surprise is a powerful move, though, and I suppose I agree with that. I’m still nervous, though.” 

“Why?” Turning the eggs around in the pan as they began to firm, she turned the heat down, reaching to click the kettle on. “You let me read that lovely letter he wrote you. For all intents and purposes, he seems very much attached.” 

“Yeah, yeah Andrea told me the same thing at the time, and then twice so far this week when we’ve chatted on the phone. I’m just... it’s my bleedin’ self-confidence. He’s so, so gorgeous, he could have any girl he wanted! I’m struggling to believe he wants me, especially since like, my body confidence is still a bit shaky.”  

Plating up her breakfast, she handed it over, moving next to grab the French press and make some fresh coffee. “This all ties in with that mean little voice you have in your head, the one you used to see as a helpful friend,” she began. 

“The voice of Ana,” Ella confirmed, her mouth thinning. It was a common term for those who suffered with the eating disorder, to name anorexia as Ana.  

“Yes, that little beast. It’s her again, you know, telling you he isn’t as into you as you know he is, as others can see he is, like your new friend Andrea. Maybe apply some of your therapy techniques to help silence her in this situation too, chicken?”  

It was a valid suggestion. 

“Fair comment.” Ahh, a James-ism. They slipped out every now and again. Slicing into the toast, she gathered the fluffy eggs and speared them, popping in the first mouthful as her tummy rumbled right on cue. “Mmmm.” 

April beamed, reaching to stroke her cheek. “It’ll never fail to make me happy, seeing you enjoying food again.”  

“It’s nice to not be quite so scared of eating, too.” Her portions were still on the smaller side, but snacks were also included in Ella’s daily diet now. Once she was done eating, it was her turn to go and lie in the bath for a while, luxuriating while listening to her music. Since her release, it was the simple things she was enjoying most, the comfort of her own bed, unlimited bathroom time. The biggest? Being able to relax without having a pair of eyes on her always, monitoring her behaviour.  

Once out, she pulled on her sweats and a t shirt, heading into her sister’s room to relax and watch a film prior to getting ready. The girls settled on Clueless, their favourite since its release two years prior. Every so often, Ella would think of their evening ahead, her stomach flipping with nervous excitement, a small noise accompanying.  

“Sis, your little sounds of discontent, becoming more frequent,” Jane observed as the credits were rolling, moving to her small dressing table and plugging in her curling iron. “Shall I go fetch some drinks, help calm your nerves?” Her suggestion was met by rapid nodding. One bottle of Bacardi Breezer and a can of Strongbow were brought up from the fridge, Ella sipping the latter steadily, feeling calmer as she sat having some loose waves curled through her hair while she did her makeup.  

“Is my blush even?” she asked, turning so Jane could study her face. 

“Hmm, take the left cheek down a bit and yeah, you’re all good,” she spoke, running her fingers through the last of the curls to make them unscrew and fall in pretty waves instead. “How are the nerves?” 

“Don’t even bleedin’ ask!” she gulped, looking at the time. 6:05pm. There were two bands on at the start of the night, Nocturnal Descent hitting the stage at around 9pm. Just under three hours, and she’d see him again. Her butterflies? They were racing one another, it felt like, Ella dressing while Jane called for a taxi to get them to the centre of Nuneaton. 

Just over twenty minutes later and they were walking into The Gallows to the roar of Atrophy, the first of the two support bands, Ella feeling her ears ringing as they approached the bar. She scanned the room, looking to see if James was there yet, Jane leaning close as they waited to be served. 

“He’s probably hanging out backstage, sis. What you having, pint of the usual?”  

Her mind immediately began to do the maths over calories on top of the can she’d had at home, scolding herself with a mental slap. “Please, yeah.” Just being there in his environment, knowing she was in the same building as him made her nerves jangle even more, her heart escalating whenever she pictured him in her mind.  

She couldn’t wait to see him, but hell, she was so nervous that her hands began trembling. At least she had her mind taken off it, meeting up with some of Jane’s friends. Hester, Lecter (aptly nicknamed after biting someone during a fight) and Adam provided the perfect distraction from her mild panicking.  

“Ella, I’ve got to say, you look freakin’ smoking! Look, with your boobies and everything!” Hester remarked, pointing the neck of her beer bottle. “It’s lovely, seeing you so healthy.”  

Honest compliments. Since her weight gain, she was receiving them more and more. They all helped nicely with her self-image. “Thanks, sweetie! Speaking of boobs, how are yours now? They fucking look mint!” 

Tiring of being a flat chested double A cup, Hester had saved up her cash and done something about it, now a nice, full D thanks to her implants. “I love ‘em! I can’t feel my left nipple but they say that can happen. It’s worth it too, finally having a rack!”  

It was as she was laughing at her huge, Cheshire cat grin over finally having something substantial in the way of boobs that the house lights all dimmed, the crowd all roaring, Ella’s eyes snapping up to the stage. Oh, god. Oh god! She could make out the figures of Nocturnal Descent in the dim light, the noise of a guitar then booming before an unearthly wail split her eardrums in two, the stage lights illuminating the band.  

There he was. And god, he looked the furthest thing from how she remembered, corpse paint on, snake eyed contact lenses in, she could see from her vantage point to the side of the crowd. In truth, he looked scary as hell. Oh, how her heart still thundered, though, much like the music, Nocturnal Descent absolutely ear splitting in volume.  

He looked even bigger up on the stage, his hair a headbanged whirlwind as his fingers moved rapidly over the guitar neck, falling precisely on each fret. She might not have been much of a fan of black metal, but she could appreciate how good he was, the band on a whole, in fact.  

“And we’re moving closer,” Jane spoke, she and Hester flanking her and beginning to shove her nearer.  

“No, no I’m fine right here. Ladies! Not cool beans!” Ella squeaked, neither listening as she was taken about three people back from the front row, her mouth dry, her heart going into overdrive. He was virtually right in front of her.  

“Don’t be freakin’ daft, darl!” Hester shouted in her ear. “He won’t see you back there!” Yes, she’d confided in her sister’s bestie, Hester’s mouth dropping open at the revelation of her and War himself having a thing. She had to wonder whether he’d see her at all, with all the headbanging, and perhaps his vision a little hampered by the contact lenses.  

In the break between the second and third song, though, as he chugged back water from a pint glass while scanning the crowd, his eyes picked her out. Placing the glass back down by the monitors at the front, he fixed her with a stare, Ella feeling faint as she smiled, watching his blackened lips begin to curl. Then he winked. She almost fell through the floor. Jane and Hester let out two long, obligatory ‘oooooh’s’. 

“Sis, that man’s face, the grin!” Jane spoke, grabbing her arm and giving her a very thorough shake of joy. The only thing Ella could do was lean in close and squeal a little. Her elation at him being obviously pleased to see her there did little to quell the nerves over actually having him before her in person, though. Truly, she had no idea why, either. It was James, her BFG, the bloke she could talk to about anything.  

She felt her tummy turning over all the way through their set, racing to the bar after they were done to grab herself something steadying. 

“Two pints of Carlsberg, a double JD and Coke, a bottle of watermelon Bacardi Breezer, a pint of Strongbow and a double vodka, please.” No, she wasn’t about to throw the entire order at the bar down her throat, rather getting a round in for everyone. The last two drinks were hers, though, the double vodka only remaining on the sticky dark wood of the bar top for three seconds before she downed it in one.  

“Better?” Hester asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope!” Her reply caused a booming laugh from the busty blonde, Ella being pulled into a hug. 

“You’re so sweet! It’ll be fine!”  

Would it? Her brain began to suggest that it might not be, throwing up all kinds of scenarios. What if it hadn’t been her he’d been grinning and winking at? What if it was a girl behind where she’d been standing? Goodness knows, there were enough of them present that night. What if he was pissed off to see her out of the facility, yet she hadn’t called him like he’d asked her to? 

Two cigarettes later and she was still no calmer, taking huge, puffed cheeked breaths that entertained Jane and Hester no end when finally, she saw him emerge from the doors at the side of the stage. 

“Oh, bleedin’ hell! Someone, help me!”  

Jane shrugged, watching a now paint and contact lens free James making his way to the bar, veering off when he saw her at the other end of it. “War has seen his target, he is cutting through the crowd, he’s smiling. Oh, sis, I hate you. He’s such a babe!”  

Placing her pint down, Ella felt like her heart was about to beat clean out of her chest as he moved through the throngs of people, feeling sick and hot. When he finally reached her, her brain failed with a complete short circuit, having no idea what to say. Talking, it seemed, wasn’t on James’s mind as he took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.  

That was the moment her very soul caught fire once again, but the burn brought her no pain at all. 

In a nanosecond, her heart went from nervous palpitating to thumping out nothing but waves of sublime happiness. She could hear Lecter and Adam howling, her sister letting out a piercing wolf whistle, but no amount of raucous noise could pull her away from him.  

“Shitting hell, I missed you, little,” he spoke when they finally parted, resting his forehead to hers, kissing the tip of her nose. Oh, how she bloomed further within. 

“Missed you too, church burner.”  

The boom of his laughter made her feel lit up inside. Finally, after seven very, very long weeks, she had him back.  

[egipci]

Miles Ahead

(for @wincestwednesdays)

What I was trying to tell you — we were in the car heading out of Gary, going a hundred miles an hour, a hundred twenty. It was Memorial Day. We drove with the windows down and you had one hand on the wheel and you were talking about fucking hoosiers and goddamn fourth of July rehearsal because you could hear fireworks if you listened close enough, and you started talking crazy about Mexico, about going down there for fourth of July. You said, we should go down there for fourth of July. You said, we should go down to Tijuana. You called it TJ. I laughed at you. I said, did you just call it TJ? No one calls it TJ. You said, everyone calls it TJ. I said, who’s everyone? You don’t know anyone who’s been to Mexico. Name everyone. You said, Dad, Dad’s been to Mexico, he calls it TJ. You were talking like you do and waving your hand but you had one eye always on the road, trying so hard to keep up with him. You kept switching lanes and gunning it whenever he went out of sight so we wouldn’t lose him. He was driving so fast like always and you were scared of losing him. You said, yeah man we’ll go down to TJ. I said, you wanna go down to Mexico for America’s birthday. You said, sure thing, gonna put on my little speedo and have a pina colada, you know with a little umbrella. I said, oh man, you at the beach. I’d like to see that. You said, what happens in TJ, kid. I said, we don’t have passports. You said, we don’t need passports, we just drive right across, no one cares. I said, they care down there I’m pretty sure. You said, it’s all Americans down there. I said, whatever you say, we go that far south you’ll catch on fire. You said, I swear to god I’ll turn the car around right now, let’s go right now. I rolled my eyes at you. You shoved me and you said, fuck you don’t roll your eyes at me. Besides we can get passports. I said, you mean make them at Kinko's. You said, damn right we’ll make them at Kinko's. Then you pulled up to the shoulder because Dad had slowed down and we got out of the car and you two did your low and serious talking. He said we’re splitting up. You hung your head down. He touched your neck then he touched your cheek. You watched him turn around and walk away and get in the car and drive. You saw me looking and you cuffed me across the back of the head just to make something happen. I said, how does Mexico sound now? And you said, nah it’s just Memorial Day and you walked back to the car and stopped and looked down at your keys in your hand like it was the first time you ever saw them. Then you threw them at me. You smiled when I caught them. You said, I’m tired, your turn. You let me drive. I had no license, but you let me drive and we promised not to tell Dad. We didn’t even say it out loud, no words, we just both agreed. When we got in the car you leaned back and you crossed your arms over your chest and closed your eyes and pretended to fall asleep so I would know you trusted me. I knew you were watching me. I could feel you smiling. Thank god it was dark. I said, TJ, last call. You laughed. I didn’t know where we were going. I just drove. I was so scared because you were watching me and it was your car and if I fucked up I could end us or best case scenario I’d wreck it and I wouldn’t know how to fix it. I kept both hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road and all the miles ahead. You were pretending to sleep and every once in a while a car would pass by and the headlights would fill up the inside of the car like midday and then I would look at you out the corner of my eye. All the way I thought about Mexico and you there sunburnt. I was so scared then I couldn’t speak but what I wanted to say is I’ll take you anywhere.

[rainiishowers]

Obey Me Incorrect Quotes

A/N: Because this is how I cope with writers block, enjoy! A lot of Mammon, unsurprisingly --- Satan: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me. MC: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do - *Human Mammon AU* Mammon: I was put on this earth to do one thing. Mammon: Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want. - Mammon: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”. Mammon: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”. -

MC: What do you think Belphie will do for a distraction? Solomon: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock *Building explodes and several car alarms go off* Solomon: ... or he could do that. - MC: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake. Mammon: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear. MC: .... MC: You mean ring bearER, right? Mammon: ... MC: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding. - MC: Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying? Mammon: Damn, if people did that to each other, Lucifer would've killed me years ago. - Satan: Is five a lot of followers? Asmodeus: Depends on the context. Asmodeus: On Devilgram? No, not a lot of followers. Belphegor: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers. - Lucifer: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Lucifer: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time. - Leviathan: The ocean is a soup. Barbatos: Barbatos: Please elaborate. Leviathan: What is needed for something to be a soup? Barbatos: Water, salt, some form of vegetation, and personally I prefer some meat in mine. Leviathan: Barbatos: - Mammon: Money in the human world... Is like president trading cards. - Asmodeus: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you. Beelzebub: Being a fish..? Asmodeus: Well, shit. - Diavolo: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Diavolo: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me. - Mammon: There's nothing to do.... Lucifer: You can wash the dishes you promised to wash about a week ago. Mammon: *pulls out his phone* Nevermind. - Mammon: I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader. - MC: Lucifer is forbidden from monologuing. - Asmodeus: The only straight I am is a straight-up badass. - Barbatos: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” - Simeon: When's the last time you slept? Solomon: Uh... a few days ago, I think. Simeon: A few- how many?! Solomon: Uh... *starts counting on fingers* I need more fingers... Simeon: What you need is sleep! - Mammon: I've met a lot of pricks in my time, but you, Lucifer, are a fucking cactus. - Belphegor: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens. - Sheep!MC: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under. - Luke: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit! *Insert Simeon having a mini crisis* - Lucifer: So, Belphie is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night. Beelzebub: Why? Lucifer: Because I've caught him trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row. Belphegor, arms crossed and pouting: You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass. - Lucifer: Please stop asking if I "had a rough night". I always look like this.