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Description
The sun is barely coming up by the time Diane slaps her door open, slinking inside with an uncharacteristically stiff gait, her long ears lowered and a look in her eyes that could strip wallpaper. She grips a printed sheet of paper, left sticking out of her mail slot for anyone to glance at by accident.
Diane glances at the paper with a sense of dread that was unfortunately affirmed. Mocked up like a newspaper, the headline over the crumpled black and white photograph is burned in her mind: “Foxington’s Future On the Fence: A Scandalous Slip-Up.”
Underneath it, a handwritten note with an arrow pointing at the stretched-out underwear she still hadn’t changed out of: “102 Sargent Square, third floor. 1AM tomorrow. Bring three of your stretchiest.”
The message is clear: Your ass is mine.
With the crimson paw prints on her unfortunately resilient underpants on full display in that photo, right next to the signage on the fence, she was inclined to agree. Politically, socially, personally, the photographer definitely owned her now. After all these years of perfect crimes, all it took was one slip-up, one opportune photo, and every aspect of her meticulously built life was in someone else’s power.
Diane dunks the paper into the trash on her way upstairs to her bedroom. She glances at the third shelf in her dresser, whose contents until this point were known to nobody but her, and with a sinking feeling she collapses straight into bed, tired and defeated, not bothering to even change out of her sweaty and torn clothing. It had been a long night, and she was going to need her sleep, for until she figured out how to silence the photographer and track down whatever evidence they had stashed away, every night was going to be a long night.

Featured: Diane Foxington (The Bad Guys), 18+ of course

(Not a request, just a freebie <3)

Description
The sun is barely coming up by the time Diane slaps her door open, slinking inside with an uncharacteristically stiff gait, her long ears lowered and a look in her eyes that could strip wallpaper. She grips a printed sheet of paper, left sticking out of her mail slot for anyone to glance at by accident.
Diane glances at the paper with a sense of dread that was unfortunately affirmed. Mocked up like a newspaper, the headline over the crumpled black and white photograph is burned in her mind: “Foxington’s Future On the Fence: A Scandalous Slip-Up.”
Underneath it, a handwritten note with an arrow pointing at the stretched-out underwear she still hadn’t changed out of: “102 Sargent Square, third floor. 1AM tomorrow. Bring three of your stretchiest.”
The message is clear: Your ass is mine.
With the crimson paw prints on her unfortunately resilient underpants on full display in that photo, right next to the signage on the fence, she was inclined to agree. Politically, socially, personally, the photographer definitely owned her now. After all these years of perfect crimes, all it took was one slip-up, one opportune photo, and every aspect of her meticulously built life was in someone else’s power.
Diane dunks the paper into the trash on her way upstairs to her bedroom. She glances at the third shelf in her dresser, whose contents until this point were known to nobody but her, and with a sinking feeling she collapses straight into bed, tired and defeated, not bothering to even change out of her sweaty and torn clothing. It had been a long night, and she was going to need her sleep, for until she figured out how to silence the photographer and track down whatever evidence they had stashed away, every night was going to be a long night.

Featured: Diane Foxington (The Bad Guys), 18+ of course

(Not a request, just a freebie <3)