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purplealmonds · 1 year ago

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This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations!

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically.

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations. And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground:

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again.

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life.

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”. It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy.

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways? I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later.

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light.

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel. But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it?

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing.

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy.

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch. If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines.

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by.

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space.

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence.

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover.

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together.

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief.

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story.

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside.

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it.

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him.

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die.

#technoblade #Technoblade never dies #Technoblade fanart #techno fanart #sleepy bois inc #tommyinnit #philza #wilbur soot #qsmp chayanne #skeppy #dream #mcyt #mcyt fanart #fan art #purplealmonds #2023 #🔕

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

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Podcasting “Capitalists Hate Capitalism”

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This week on my podcast, I read "Capitalists Hate Capitalism," my latest column for Locus Magazine:

https://locusmag.com/2024/03/cory-doctorow-capitalists-hate-capitalism/

What do I mean by "capitalists hate capitalism?" It all comes down to the difference between "profits" and "rents." A capitalist takes capital (money, or the things you can buy with it) and combines it with employees' labor, and generates profits (the capitalist's share) and wages (the workers' share).

Rents, meanwhile, come from owning an asset that capitalists need to generate profits. For example, a landlord who rents a storefront to a coffee shop extracts rent from the capitalist who owns the coffee shop. Meanwhile, the capitalist who owns the cafe extracts profits from the baristas' labor.

Capitalists' founding philosophers like Adam Smith hated rents. Worse: rents were the most important source of income at the time of capitalism's founding. Feudal lords owned great swathes of land, and there were armies of serfs who were bound to that land – it was illegal for them to leave it. The serfs owed rent to lords, and so they worked the land in order grow crops and raise livestock that they handed over the to lord as rent for the land they weren't allowed to leave.

Capitalists, meanwhile, wanted to turn that land into grazing territory for sheep as a source of wool for the "dark, Satanic mills" of the industrial revolution. They wanted the serfs to be kicked off their land so that they would become "free labor" that could be hired to work in those factories.

For the founders of capitalism, a "free market" wasn't free from regulation, it was free from rents, and "free labor" came from workers who were free to leave the estates where they were born – but also free to starve unless they took a job with the capitalists.

For capitalism's philosophers, free markets and free labor weren't just a source of profits, they were also a source of virtue. Capitalists – unlike lords – had to worry about competition from one another. They had to make better goods at lower prices, lest their customers take their business elsewhere; and they had to offer higher pay and better conditions, lest their "free labor" take a job elsewhere.

This means that capitalists are haunted by the fear of losing everything, and that fear acts as a goad, driving them to find ways to make everything better for everyone: better, cheaper products that benefit shoppers; and better-paid, safer jobs that benefit workers. For Smith, capitalism is alchemy, a philosopher's stone that transforms the base metal of greed into the gold of public spiritedness.

By contrast, rentiers are insulated from competition. Their workers are bound to the land, and must toil to pay the rent no matter whether they are treated well or abused. The rent rolls in reliably, without the lord having to invest in new, better ways to bring in the harvest. It's a good life (for the lord).

Think of that coffee-shop again: if a better cafe opens across the street, the owner can lose it all, as their customers and workers switch allegiance. But for the landlord, the failure of his capitalist tenant is a feature, not a bug. Once the cafe goes bust, the landlord gets a newly vacant storefront on the same block as the hot new coffee shop that can be rented out at even higher rates to another capitalist who tries his luck.

The industrial revolution wasn't just the triumph of automation over craft processes, nor the triumph of factory owners over weavers. It was also the triumph of profits over rents. The transformation of hereditary estates worked by serfs into part of the supply chain for textile mills was attended by – and contributed to – the political ascendancy of capitalists over rentiers.

Now, obviously, capitalism didn't end rents – just as feudalism didn't require the total absence of profits. Under feudalism, capitalists still extracted profits from capital and labor; and under capitalism, rentiers still extracted rents from assets that capitalists and workers paid them to use.

The difference comes in the way that conflicts between profits and rents were resolved. Feudalism is a system where rents triumph over profits, and capitalism is a system where profits triumph over rents.

It's conflict that tells you what really matters. You love your family, but they drive you crazy. If you side with your family over your friends – even when your friends might be right and your family's probably wrong – then you value your family more than your friends. That doesn't mean you don't value your friends – it means that you value them less than your family.

Conflict is a reliable way to know whether or not you're a leftist. As Steven Brust says, the way to distinguish a leftist is to ask "What's more important, human rights, or property rights?" If you answer "Property rights are human right," you're not a leftist. Leftists don't necessarily oppose all property rights – they just think they're less important than human rights.

Think of conflicts between property rights and human rights: the grocer who deliberately renders leftover food inedible before putting it in the dumpster to ensure that hungry people can't eat it, or the landlord who keeps an apartment empty while a homeless person freezes to death on its doorstep. You don't have to say "No one can own food or a home" to say, "in these cases, property rights are interfering with human rights, so they should be overridden." For leftists property rights can be a means to human rights (like revolutionary land reformers who give peasants title to the lands they work), but where property rights interfere with human rights, they are set aside.

In his 2023 book Technofeudalism, Yanis Varoufakis claims that capitalism has given way to a new feudalism – that capitalism was a transitional phase between feudalism…and feudalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Varoufakis's point isn't that capitalists have gone extinct. Rather, it's that today, conflicts between capital and assets – between rents and profits – reliably end with a victory of rent over profit.

Think of Amazon: the "everything store" appears to be a vast bazaar, a flea-market whose stalls are all operated by independent capitalists who decide what to sell, how to price it, and then compete to tempt shoppers. In reality, though, the whole system is owned by a single feudalist, who extracts 51% from every dollar those merchants take in, and decides who can sell, and what they can sell, and at what price, and whether anyone can even see it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Or consider the patent trolls of the Eastern District of Texas. These "companies" are invisible and produce nothing. They consist solely of a serviced mailbox in a dusty, uninhabited office-building, and an overbroad patent (say, a patent on "tapping on a screen with your finger") issued by the US Patent and Trademark Office. These companies extract hundreds of millions of dollars from Apple, Google, Samsung for violating these patents. In other words, the government steps in and takes vast profits generated through productive activity by companies that make phones, and turns that money over as rent paid to unproductive companies whose sole "product" is lawsuits. It's the triumph of rent over profit.

Capitalists hate capitalism. All capitalists would rather extract rents than profits, because rents are insulated from competition. The merchants who sell on Jeff Bezos's Amazon (or open a cafe in a landlord's storefront, or license a foolish smartphone patent) bear all the risk. The landlords – of Amazon, the storefront, or the patent – get paid whether or not that risk pays off.

This is why Google, Apple and Samsung also have vast digital estates that they rent out to capitalists – everything from app stores to patent portfolios. They would much rather be in the business of renting things out to capitalists than competing with capitalists.

Hence that famous Adam Smith quote: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices." This is literally what Google and Meta do:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

And it's what Apple and Google do:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/10/27/23934961/google-antitrust-trial-defaults-search-deal-26-3-billion

Why compete with one another when you can collude, like feudal lords with adjacent estates who trust one another to return any serf they catch trying to sneak away in the dead of night?

Because of course, it's not just "free markets" that have been captured by rents ("Competition is for losers" -P. Thiel) – it's also "free labor." For years, the largest tech and entertainment companies in America illegally colluded on a "no poach" agreement not to hire one-anothers' employees:

https://techcrunch.com/2015/09/03/apple-google-other-silicon-valley-tech-giants-ordered-to-pay-415m-in-no-poaching-suit/

These companies were bitter competitors – as were these sectors. Even as Big Content was lobbying for farcical copyright law expansions and vowing to capture Big Tech, all these companies on both sides were able to set aside their differences and collude to bind their free workers to their estates and end the "wasteful competition" to secure their labor.

Of course, this is even more pronounced at the bottom of the labor market, where noncompete "agreements" are the norm. The median American worker bound by a noncompete is a fast-food worker whose employer can wield the power of the state to prevent that worker from leaving behind the Wendy's cash-register to make $0.25/hour more at the McDonald's fry trap across the street:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Employers defend this as necessary to secure their investment in training their workers and to ensure the integrity of their trade secrets. But why should their investments be protected? Capitalism is about risk, and the fear that accompanies risk – fear that drives capitalists to innovate, which creates the public benefit that is the moral justification for capitalism.

Capitalists hate capitalism. They don't want free labor – they want labor bound to the land. Capitalists benefit from free labor: if you have a better company, you can tempt away the best workers and cause your inferior rival to fail. But feudalists benefit from un-free labor, from tricks like "bondage fees" that force workers to pay in order to quit their jobs:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/21/bondage-fees/#doorman-building

Companies like Petsmart use "training repayment agreement provisions" (TRAPs) to keep low-waged workers from leaving for better employers. Petsmart says it costs $5,500 to train a pet-groomer, and if that worker is fired, laid off, or quits less than two years, they have to pay that amount to Petsmart:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

Now, Petsmart is full of shit here. The "four-week training course" Petsmart claims is worth $5,500 actually only lasts for three weeks. What's more, the "training" consists of sweeping the floor and doing other low-level chores for three weeks, without pay.

But even if Petsmart were to give $5,500 worth of training to every pet-groomer, this would still be bullshit. Why should the worker bear the risk of Petsmart making a bad investment in their training? Under capitalism, risks justify rewards. Petsmart's argument for charging $50 to groom your dog and paying the groomer $15 for the job is that they took $35 worth of risk. But some of that risk is being borne by the worker – they're the ones footing the bill for the training.

For Petsmart – as for all feudalists – a worker (with all the attendant risks) can be turned into an asset, something that isn't subject to competition. Petsmart doesn't have to retain workers through superior pay and conditions – they can use the state's contract-enforcement mechanism instead.

Capitalists hate capitalism, but they love feudalism. Sure, they dress this up by claiming that governmental de-risking spurs investment: "Who would pay to train a pet-groomer if that worker could walk out the next day and shave dogs for some competing shop?"

But this is obvious nonsense. Think of Silicon Valley: high tech is the most "IP-intensive" of all industries, the sector that has had to compete most fiercely for skilled labor. And yet, Silicon Valley is in California, where noncompetes are illegal. Every single successful Silicon Valley company has thrived in an environment in which their skilled workers can walk out the door at any time and take a job with a rival company.

There's no indication that the risk of free labor prevents investment. Think of AI, the biggest investment bubble in human history. All the major AI companies are in jurisdictions where noncompetes are illegal. Anthropic – OpenAI's most serious competitor – was founded by a sister/brother team who quit senior roles at OpenAI and founded a direct competitor. No one can claim with a straight face that OpenAI is now unable to raise capital on favorable terms.

What's more, when OpenAI founder Sam Altman was forced out by his board, Microsoft offered to hire him – and 700 other OpenAI personnel – to found an OpenAI competitor. When Altman returned to the company, Microsoft invested more money in OpenAI, despite their intimate understanding that anyone could hire away the company's founder and all of its top technical staff at any time.

The idea that the departure of the Burger King trade secrets locked up in its workers' heads constitute more of a risk to the ability to operate a hamburger restaurant than the departure of the entire technical staff of OpenAI is obvious nonsense. Noncompetes aren't a way to make it possible to run a business – they're a way to make it easy to run a business, by eliminating competition and pushing the risk onto employees.

Because capitalists hate capitalism. And who can blame them? Who wouldn't prefer a life with less risk to one where you have to constantly look over your shoulder for competitors who've found a way to make a superior offer to your customers and workers?

This is why businesses are so excited about securing "IP" – that is, a government-backed right to control your workers, customers, competitors or critics:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

The argument for every IP right expansion is the same: "Who would invest in creating something new without the assurance that someone else wouldn’t copy and improve on it and put them out of business?"

That was the argument raised five years ago, during the (mercifully brief) mania for genre writers seeking trademarks on common tropes. There was the romance writer who got a trademark on the word "cocky" in book titles:

https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/16/17566276/cockygate-amazon-kindle-unlimited-algorithm-self-published-romance-novel-cabal

And the fantasy writer who wanted a trademark on "dragon slayer" in fantasy novel titles:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/14/son-of-cocky-a-writer-is-trying-to-trademark-dragon-slayer-for-fantasy-novels/

Who subsequently sought a trademark on any book cover featuring a person holding a weapon:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/07/19/trademark-troll-who-claims-to-own-dragon-slayer-now-wants-exclusive-rights-to-book-covers-where-someone-is-holding-a-weapon/

For these would-be rentiers, the logic was the same: "Why would I write a book about a dragon-slayer if I could lose readers to someone else who writes a book about dragon-slayers?"

In these cases, the USPTO denied or rescinded its trademarks. Profits triumphed over rents. But increasingly, rents are triumphing over profits, and rent-extraction is celebrated as "smart business," while profits are for suckers, only slightly preferable to "wages" (the worst way to get paid under both capitalism and feudalism).

That's what's behind all the talk about "passive income" – that's just a euphemism for "rent." It's what Douglas Rushkoff is referring to in Survival of the Richest when he talks about the wealthy wanting to "go meta":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn

Don't drive a cab – go meta and buy a medallion. Don't buy a medallion, go meta and found Uber. Don't found Uber, go meta and invest in Uber. Don't invest in Uber, go meta and buy options on Uber stock. Don't buy Uber stock options, go meta and buy derivatives of options on Uber stock.

"Going meta" means distancing yourself from capitalism – from income derived from profits, from competition, from risk – and cozying up to feudalism.

Capitalists have always hated capitalism. The owners of the dark Satanic mills wanted peasants turned off the land and converted into "free labor" – but they also kidnapped Napoleonic war-orphans and indentured them to ten-year terms of service, which was all you could get out of a child's body before it was ruined for further work:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When Varoufakis says we've entered a new feudal age, he doesn't mean that we've abolished capitalism. He means that – for the first time in centuries – when rents go to war against profits – the rents almost always emerge victorious.

Here's the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2024/04/14/capitalists-hate-capitalism/

Here's a direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive; they'll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_465/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_465_-_Capitalists_Hate_Capitalism.mp3

And here's the RSS feed for my podcast:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

#pluralistic #technofeudalism #yanis varoufakis #rents #profits #economics #podcasts #locus magazine #mp3s

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hgfictionwriter · 1 month ago

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Discovery: Part Five - First Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: With the truth revealed, Jessie and you now have a chance to fully build an authentic, honest relationship. And maybe, the physical intimacy that's plagued your relationship - and Jessie's past - can finally be healed.

Warnings: G!P content. First time; oral (J receiving; R receiving); body image issues; lingering internal conflicts and themes of rejection; language.

A/N: This is SO long. I just got carried away - there was so much I felt would be going through Jessie's mind that I couldn't just skip over during their first time together, combined with all of the previous baggage. It felt much more natural to pace it this way.

"So, if I ask you to spend the night, do you think you would?"

Jessie couldn't believe the contrast between this morning and now. She'd come over to your apartment with absolute certainty that this would be the end; she'd maybe get to hold you once more and then it would be the inevitable goodbye.

Instead, here you were, cuddled into her on the couch, fingers of one hand intertwined with hers and her arm wrapped around your shoulder. Rather than a painful and heavy goodbye, you'd sat together for hours; conversation renewed, deeper, sincerer, and you were asking her to stay.

Jessie smiled at you.

"I'd love to," she told you before giving a quiet, bashful laugh. "If you asked, that is."

You chuckled and nudged her with your shoulder. "Well I'm asking."

"Then I'd love to stay," Jessie replied with a resolute nod.

"Now that I know why you were so hesitant to spend the night before," you told her with a smirk, leaving Jessie in awe that you could be so relaxed about this and that things felt so natural between you.

While Jessie's mind had been wrought with questions and worries for months, now the only question that remained was, 'What took her so long to tell you?'

You fidgeted slightly and scratched at your temple, eyes cast downward momentarily before you looked up at her.

"Just as before, even more-so now, actually, you're welcome to sleep in the bed. I-I'd like you to." A beat passed and you rushed on. "But only if you want to."

Jessie's heart felt like it was lodged in her throat, but in a good way. She would've never pictured this.

"Y-yeah," she managed to reply, voice almost wavering. "I'd like that."

You clearly were anticipating a decline, because your reaction was delayed and was one of momentary surprise before smiling broadly at her.

"Oh! Fantastic!" You said before shrinking into yourself slightly, seemingly embarrassed at your enthusiasm. Jessie found it adorable and kissed you. Your cheeks were burning pink when she pulled back. "You can, um, wear some of my clothes to bed. I'm sure I have something that'll fit."

"Sure, that sounds good," Jessie said as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Soon you led her into your room and dug through your drawers for some sleepwear for her. Jessie had been in your room a handful of times, but really only in passing. Given how physical aspects of your relationship had been so taboo prior, the bedroom had become unspoken, forbidden territory. She took this opportunity to look around and really take it in; all of your belongings, the way you had things arranged, all the things big and small that made it yours.

"These should work."

Jessie was pulled from her observations by your voice. She turned to you and gave you a belated smile as she took the items.

"Thank you."

Silence fell over you two, but it felt very different than ones previous. This time, Jessie wasn't scared.

"I know we've talked about a lot today, tonight, but I, um, just want to say again that I'm really grateful you told me everything," you said softly as you looked at her.

"Me too," Jessie returned with a gentle smile. "Again, I'm really sorry it took me so long. I can't tell you how amazing it is to have this openness with you and to be given another chance. I really do love you, and I'm so grateful that I can tell you that and to not have to hide."

You looked at her with the warmest eyes and reached out to gently take the clothes you'd just handed her and set them down on the bed. You took a step towards her, closing the space between you two and wrapped your arms around the back of her neck. Your waist pressed against her’s and Jessie inadvertently swallowed though she held your gaze.

"You shouldn't have had to hide in the first place," you said as you cupped her cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with this." Jessie nodded.

"I'm trusting you with this. My heart. My past. All sorts of things," she finished lightly, hoping for some levity but failing to come up with something witty. She settled for a silly smile that contrasted the weight of her words. You weren't fooled and continued to look at her in earnest. Jessie dropped her smile and allowed herself to sit in this moment with you instead.

Soon your lips were on hers in a slow, deep kiss. Instead of tensing up and coaching herself through it, she finally gave herself permission to relax into your kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open belatedly when you subtly pulled back from the kiss. She looked to you with mild confusion only to see a soft smile crossing your lips. You caressed the back of her neck briefly before kissing her again even deeper. Jessie barely managed to hold back a moan. She tightened her arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

That small act of confirmation seemed to spark something in you. Suddenly, your fingers were running through her hair and you kissed her harder.

It didn't take much for Jessie to feel the telltale signs of her cock starting to stiffen. You were pressed flush up against her - her movements stilled and she shifted her hips back slightly to create space.

"You don't have to," you said slightly breathless as you pulled back just enough to look at her. A moment passed and you shook your head subtly. "I don't want you to."

Jessie inadvertently swallowed. She searched your eyes, a stubborn hesitancy and doubt still lingering in the back of her mind. You caressed her cheek with your thumb and it quieted her thoughts. She pulled you close to her once more and rest her forehead against yours.

"I told you I find you very attractive," she said in a low voice with a smirk. "So much so that it's been a problem."

She saw you bite the inside of your lip.

"I don't see a problem here," you affirmed before giving a smirk of your own. "I like it."

You kissed her again and though Jessie wanted nothing more than to reciprocate, she had to ask once more.

"Are you sure? I mean - you weren't anticipating...this," Jessie finished with a near mumble as she glanced down between you purposefully before looking at you again. "And you said you preferred a strap."

You blushed, dropping eye contact, but caressed the side of her neck still.

"Well, at that time I didn't exactly know that you had anything more than a strap," you said sheepishly before forcing yourself to look up at her. This time, you spoke assuredly.

"And you're right that I wasn't anticipating this. But, I love you. And this," you gave a look mirroring Jessie's a moment ago, "is part of you, which means, I'm all for it." You gave a slight shrug. "And, you know, it's pretty sexy. Knowing...feeling, or seeing, what effect I might have on you." You finished with a shy chuckle. "I'm not upset about it. Let's put it that way."

Some other girls had made fun of her for visibly being aroused, but there was nothing malicious about your reaction. In fact, your reaction was far from it. She smiled gratefully and nodded.

"Okay. Well, I'm glad. And, um, I'm sorry in advance if there are moments - like this - where I get a little too...excited. I don't mean to ruin a moment or anything," Jessie explained as she glanced back down at the slight bulge in her pants - it wasn't anything too overt right now, but if you two carried on it certainly would be.

"You don't need to apologize," you said, mildly chiding her. "I just told you I like it." You slowed, cupping her face once more and speaking softly. "I like it," you repeated.

Any lingering concerns were snuffed out as you began kissing her once more. Slow and patient at first, before deepening. She wrapped her arms around you fully and met your kisses with equal, growing passion. Your hands began to wander down her back and after a moment of hesitation, Jessie allowed her hands to explore as well.

What was an initial arousal was now becoming full-on as your hands played with the hem of her shirt, your fingers grazing ever so lightly against her skin, and when she heard you faintly moan into your kiss, there was zero chance of her hiding the way her cock now strained fully against her boxers and pants.

When you didn't pull away, and instead pulled yourself closer to her, her fingers dug into the small of your back through your shirt, pulling another muffled moan from you.

Jessie opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she gently broke off the kiss, only now realizing she was short of breath.

"Sorry," she breathed. You frowned at her in confusion.

"What for?"

She frowned in return as she tried to conjure up some coherent thoughts.

"I'm, um, getting carried away," she eventually managed to say.

"I'm not remotely bothered," you assured her. "I'm getting carried away as well, then, too," you added with a faint grin. You looked away briefly before resting your hands on the front of her chest and pushing upwards, your hands feeling their way up her neck and into her hair as you spoke. She nearly shivered.

"I know we just said today we'd take it slow," you looked away again, "but, um, we also don't have to."

Jessie swallowed, studying you intently. "I don't want to pressure you at all. I mean, I dropped a lot on you today. I'm very happy to go at whatever pace you set. I have no expectations."

You nodded, seemingly lost in your own thoughts.

"Mhmm. And, well, we've also been together for months. And...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you. And, maybe, based on what I'm feeling right now...you might want me, too," you finished with a tentative, but hopeful look on your face.

Jessie blushed with a lopsided grin. "I think that's safe to say."

You both looked at each other, gauging one another and waiting for the other to make the first move. It was several seconds before you grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her in for another kiss, which she readily met.

Hands wandered even more ravenously this time and you were very subtly grinding yourself against her bulge and Jessie swallowed a moan that threatened to escape. She exhaled heavily and found herself pulling you tight against her, her hand now sneaking under your shirt and you moaned in approval.

Surprise flooded Jessie system as suddenly you were pushing her towards the bed, not breaking the kiss until you pushed her down on the edge. When she looked up at you, your eyes were dark with lust and her cock throbbed at the sight.

"Wh-" Jessie's question was cut off as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of her, not dropping her gaze the entire time. You placed your hands on her thighs and moved your hands upward until your fingers snuck under her shirt to graze her abdomen.

"Is this okay?" You asked. Jessie could only nod, unable to find the words. You toyed with the hem of her shirt again. "Do you prefer clothes on or off for this?"

"I, um," Jessie stammered. "On, for now, I guess." She shook her head. “Wait, I should do stuff for you.” She went to switch places with you but you denied her.

“There’s time for that, too. I want to do this for you,” you said as your thumbs idly caressed her skin. Jessie let your words settle in and a slow smile formed across her lips. She nodded.

You smiled and began to massage her hips, your hands moving inwards until you started to unbutton her pants. She was absolutely aching with anticipation by now. Jessie's eyes were trained on you and she breathed through her lips as her mind tried to keep up with what was evolving.

"You're sure?" You asked one more time, fingers ready to unzip her pants. Jessie let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah. I am. Um, if you are. You know you don't have to do anything, right?" You didn't break eye contact.

"I know. I want to do this. I want you," you stated and Jessie felt a flutter go through her entire body at the declaration. She frowned as you grew bashful. "I, um, haven't done this in a while though. So...bear with me. I apologize in advance," you finished with a sheepish laugh. Jessie frowned deeper.

"Don't apologize. At all. I-," she wracked her mind for the right words to say. "I'm positive it'll be great. You'll be great. I, um, just want to be with you. That's what's most important to me." You looked up at her from your spot on the floor between her legs and gave her a grateful smile. Your earlier comment caused Jessie's mind to start envisioning you in front of other people in a similar position. She didn't like it.

"And...we don't really need to talk about, you know, other times or people...at least right now," she added gently.

"Oh. Right," you said as you flushed pink. You sat back on your heels and cleared your throat before raising yourself up again and kneading her thighs. "Okay, well, what I mean is, feel free to tell me what you like...and tell me if you don't like what I'm doing."

Jessie felt a tightening in her throat and she forced a series of nods. "Okay, I will."

It probably shouldn't have been a big deal, but she was left in awe to some degree. Other girls didn't care what she liked or didn't like. It was about them - satisfying their curiosity or having a story to tell after. But that wasn't you at all.

She cleared her throat and went on. Now was not the time to get emotional.

"But please don't worry. You can see already that you're doing everything right," she said with a slight chuckle as she tucked your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheekbone with her thumb. "And same goes for you, please tell me if I'm doing anything you don't like. And please know you don't have to do anything that you aren't comfortable with."

"I know, baby," you said as your raised yourself up to kiss her on the lips.

Jessie was kissing you back, eyes closed, when your hand returned to her zipper and began to pull it down and over her aching erection. Her efforts to kiss you back stalled as your hands pushed the fabric of her pants aside and you began to caress her through her boxer briefs.

You began to kiss her neck and Jessie did her best to swallow any impending moans as you continued to feel her through the fabric. Her eyes remained closed as your fingers traced over the head of her cock before gently feeling and exploring what you could of her length.

Next, she felt you trace along a seam of the boxer briefs and her whole body stiffened as your warm hand reached in through the slit of the fabric and your delicate fingers first made contact with her cock.

"Is this okay?" You whispered into her neck as your hand stilled. She nodded. That fleeting touch alone felt incredible and she could hardly believe it was happening.

"Yeah," was all she could manage.

Assured, you gently wrapped your fingers around her length and pulled it through the slit. Now, unencumbered, her full length sprang upward in your grasp and, intentional or not, you sat back and Jessie opened her eyes to see you looking at her cock.

She registered this image of you looking down at her length that stood proudly up within your hand, a large bead of precum pooling at the tip. She wasn't 100% sure how to read your expression, it wasn't negative for sure, curiosity maybe? Either way, a rush of apprehension went through her and she pushed herself back a bit and began to stammer.

"We, um, we don't-"

You seemed to belatedly clue into Jessie's mounting anxiety and you sat up again, one hand coming to cup her cheek as you kissed her mid-sentence, effectively shushing her.

"It's okay," you whispered, kissing her sweetly once more. You urged her to look at you and she did, shoulders visibly rising and falling as her heart raced. “Do you want to stop?” You asked gently, free of judgement.

She studied you, seeing nothing but concern and care in your eyes. She began to relax and she shook her head. “No.”

You kissed her again, letting it linger this time and only pulling away once Jessie's breathing had evened. "You're beautiful," you said. You leaned in so your lips nearly brushed against her ear. "Please don't worry. I love you. And please tell me at any point if you’re uncomfortable and want to stop. That’s perfectly okay.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she told you. She swallowed her residual worries and leaned into your ear. “I want you, too.”

Jessie's jaw fell slack as the hand around her length, which had remained still the past few moments, began to slowly, lightly caress her, your thumb now patiently circling her tip.

Her shoulders rolled back as she felt your tongue flick her earlobe and your breath was hot and teasing against her ear.

"I can't wait to taste you."

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for you to say that. She belatedly realized that her fingers were digging into her thighs. She relaxed them along with the rest of her body and you began to kiss your way down until you were resting on the back of your heels once more.

She watched as you looked up at her. You released her momentarily, eyes locked on her still as you licked your hand before wrapping your fingers around her girth again. Jessie didn't drop your gaze, but her shoulders fell at the sensation.

"You can tell me to stop at any point," you reminded her as you began to stroke her up and down. Jessie silenced another moan deep in her throat and swallowed audibly instead as she nodded.

Jessie's mouth fell open further as you dropped her gaze and bent your head towards her waiting arousal. She moved her hands to the edge of the mattress and gripped it tightly as she felt your hot tongue give a slow, teasing flick across the head of her cock. Her breath hitched in her lungs as your tongue languidly circled around the tip.

Her head fell back and her eyes focused on the ceiling as you continued to slowly explore her. Your tongue teased her head, your tongue grazed down her length and back up, your hand gripped her gently, then firmly, you stroked her and circled her.

When your lips wrapped themselves around her tip and you gave a soft, slow lick before sucking and releasing her, she white-knuckled the mattress and set her jaw so harshly it nearly hurt. When your mouth fully sank down on her length, her cock now surrounded by the warmth of your mouth, she couldn't hold back a faint gasp.

Encouraged, you continued, soon bobbing your head up and down on her length and Jessie's breathing became quick and shallow over the incredible sensations that radiated from between her legs and throughout her body.

She curled her fingers inward more, her nails audibly digging into the mattress as you took her further into your mouth, her tip now nudging the back of your throat. Her thighs flexed intermittently as she resisted the urge to move her hips in time with you - she didn't want to be pushy at all.

Her eyes snapped downward as suddenly your free hand found one of hers. She interlaced her fingers with yours and you looked up at her - an absolute sight for Jessie, seeing your mouth wrapped around her swollen cock, your other hand at her base. Again, she was caught off guard as you took her hand and guided it to the back of your head.

The look on her face must've relayed the hesitation or doubt she felt, because you gave a subtle expression of affirmation and pushed her fingers through your hair.

Jessie's breathing was uneven as you refocused on the task at hand, closing your eyes and sucking and licking her once more. Her eyes closed and her head fell back once more as the overwhelming sensations sparked all over again.

She tentatively played with your hair, her hand barely resting on the back of your head as you moved up and down her length. This carried on for a short while until your hand came back up to hers and pushed her hand firmly down on your head, her length going deeper into your throat than ever.

Jessie groaned and clutched your hair instinctually before her eyes flew open in brief panic at allowing herself such a reaction. The feeling ebbed as you continued, undeterred, your thumb actually caressing the back of her hand. She relaxed, sinking into the bed a bit and eyes falling shut once more as she now guided your head up and down.

The sensations that had been building, not just now, but a culmination really of the past several months with you, were about to reach their peak. Jessie's breathing was rapid and she bit the inside of her mouth as a familiar tightening formed between her legs. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she tried to center herself.

"I-I'm, I'm gonna cum soon," she told you.

You continued to suck her off and Jessie had to bite the inside of her cheek hard to not groan or curse in pleasure.

"Y/N, I'm not going to last," she tried to warn you, panting as she spoke. "I'm gonna cum."

She expected you to pull back from her, but you remained steadfast, keeping her warm in your mouth until Jessie gripped your hair tightly and tensed up underneath your ministrations. She snuffed out another moan as she began to spill herself into your mouth and down your throat. Her breath hitched as she spurt several times inside your waiting mouth.

Jessie breathed heavily as the twitching of her cock slowed and so did you. It took a few moments for her to come through the haze of her climax and when she did she looked at you in concern. You, however, simply sat back and covered your mouth briefly before swallowing. Jessie just stared at you, stunned.

You wiped your mouth and sat there on your knees before looking up at her. Jessie was still catching her breath as you both looked at each other.

"You taste good," you eventually said, causing Jessie to flush red immediately.

"You-you didn't have to do that," Jessie responded. "Um, swallow, that is." She frowned and flushed further. "Any of it, really."

You frowned in return before giving her a light shrug. "I know. I wanted to." You looked away briefly. "So, um, was it okay?"

Jessie gave you a bewildered look.

"You're joking. You couldn't tell?" She asked, unable to help but laugh a bit. She just shot a huge load down your throat, relatively quickly too - of course she liked it. Instead, you blushed.

"I guess. You were very quiet though," you said somewhat tentatively. You went on quickly. "Maybe that's just how you are - and that's totally fine. I guess I just- I don't know."

Jessie wanted to curse, and moan, and groan with pleasure as you pleasured her, but again, she'd been made fun of before. She'd been the subject of teasing and mocking in hallways or a classroom and it caused her to hold back. She studied you wordlessly for a couple of seconds before nodding.

"I really loved it. You were," she shook her head as she tried to find the words, "beyond incredible." This seemed to relax you and you rose up onto your knees and she wrapped you in a hug as you kissed her.

"Shit, sorry," she said, another blush creeping up her face as she realized her deflating cock was directly on your shirt, staining it with your spit and whatever little remained of her cum.

"Oh, don't worry," you said. You chuckled coyly, gaze flitting away for a second before returning. "We were going to get changed anyway, right?"

Oh right. She'd forgotten all about that already.

Yet again, for the nth time today, you surprised her by locking eyes with her and slowly lifting your top off in front of her. Her jaw dropped slightly and her eyebrows lifted as she took in this stunning visual of you.

"Is this okay?" You asked, your shirt now discarded next to you and your hand behind your back, poised to unhook your bra.

Jessie nodded with a goofy grin. "Yeah, completely."

You smirked and gave her a small nod. "What about you?"

Jessie didn't falter under your watchful stare. She could feel her confidence continuing to build as the barriers she'd firmly placed between you two were rapidly destroyed to discover that there was love and acceptance on the other side.

She lifted her top over her head and tossed it by yours. She reached for your arms and gently guided you up onto the bed with her, your hand still on the back of your bra. She reached behind you, adoring the smile you gave her as she did, and undid your bra for you.

Not thinking twice, Jessie dipped her head to begin trailing kisses down your chest. She cupped one of your breasts and pulled the nipple of your other in between her lips to tease it with her tongue. She grinned into you as your hands wandered and dug through her hair.

She continued to attentively discover your breasts and soon you started shimmying out of your pants and were tugging at hers. Her cock now fully alert and ready to go once more, making her even more grateful that you'd started with a blowjob; it took the edge off for her.

Jessie chuckled softly as she lifted her hips so you could remove her clothes. Yes, she was still nervous, but more than anything she felt an undercurrent of safety and affection and it was such a change. One she more than welcomed.

"Holy shit, you're gorgeous," you said as you took in her naked form. Jessie snorted and gave you a frown.

"You're gorgeous. My God, look at you," she said. She glanced down pointedly at her stiff member. "In case you needed proof that you are so fucking sexy."

Your eyes darkened once more and you pulled Jessie into a heated kiss. The kisses between you two earlier were slow and passionate, but these were hungry and needy.

Soon, you tugged gently on her arm, coaxing her up the bed and she allowed herself to be pulled down on top of you, but made sure to position herself not so precariously against you. She took this as her opportunity to start kissing down your body towards your core.

Your grasp tightened on her, urging her to not move further down.

"Stay with me up here," you said.

"Let me take care of you," Jessie said as she began kissing her way downward once more. "You got to taste me," she looked up your torso at you as she laid slow, lingering kisses down your stomach, "I should get to taste you."

You bit your lip and released her, a smirk on your face as she continued to kiss down your body. She shifted down the bed so her head was nestled between your legs. She felt a buzz, lightheaded even, as your scent filled her senses. Her cock was pressed flat against her torso as she lay on the mattress and she had to readily ignore the hints of pleasure from the friction any slight movement of hers created.

She saw the way your fingers dug into the sheets in anticipation and at a glance she could see the way your arousal pooled at your entrance. Another boost of confidence went through Jessie at seeing physical proof that the act you just performed for her wasn't a turn off, and evidently, even turned you on.

Your knees were raised, feet on the bed and she began to kiss her way down your legs, slowly, teasingly - down one side and then the next. She felt affirmed by how your hips subtly bucked up towards her mouth as she got closer and your fingers dug further into the sheets in frustration every time she pulled back.

She showed an ounce of mercy as she traced her tongue along the junction between your legs and core; staying purposefully away from your inner lips and keeping her tongue light and fleeting. She glanced up your body with a grin, pleased with how your chest visibly rose and fell already under her drawn out attention.

When she saw a bead of cum drip past your entrance and down towards the sheets, she finally delved in. She dipped her tongue down and slowly dragged it upward, capturing your dripping juices and finishing with a soft lick at your entrance. Your body tensed up and a small gasp escaped you and before you had even relaxed she placed her tongue flat against your entrance, before tracing diligently upward through your folds.

You squirmed and writhed as she took her time circling around your clit, giving it a playful flick now and then and finally latching her lips around it and sucking as she lapped at you.

"Oh fuck," you panted as you rolled your hips up into her mouth. She loved your reactions and she grinned into you, sufficiently pleased with herself.

Soon your moans grew louder and you clutched the sheets tightly in your hands. Again, Jessie smiled as she felt your legs tighten and flex around her head.

"Oh God, Jess," you breathed as your hips bucked into her face. "I'm so close." Your hands now clawed blindly at the bed.

Jessie stayed steady, ignoring how her cock absolutely throbbed with need. Every movement and sound you made, along with the way you tasted on her tongue, was driving her mad. She hated to think what state she'd be in if you hadn't given her some reprieve earlier.

Your moans reached a fever pitch and your hips began to jerk against her until you froze mid-grind, your back arching off of the bed and juices flooded Jessie's mouth. She stayed with you, wordlessly coaching you through your orgasm until you hips fell back to the bed and gave a few lingering, stuttering movements. Finally, a heavy, satisfied moan left your lips as your body relaxed and Jessie pulled back.

"Oh my God," you breathed and she smirked as you brought your hands up to your face, eventually draping one arm across your eyes and stretched one leg out as you began to recover.

Jessie watched you coming down, clearly content with her performance. She was filled with satisfaction and pride, but it also sparked a need in her to make you feel that way again. She wanted you to reach that high once more, to feel as amazing as you could, and she wanted to be the one to do it.

Old habits died hard.

This is what she did. As the years went on, one way to defend herself was to make certain there was nothing to make fun of. To be good - damn good. To know exactly what to do and how. But she learned this also had drawbacks of its own. It didn’t change how those girls felt about her. She just went from the butt of a joke to a late night call and little more.

So in time, she more or less stopped altogether. Going into this, she was worried about how rusty she was, but those concerns were quelled by the orgasm she just gave you. And now, she wanted more and to give you more.

She kissed the inside of your thigh. Soft and feathery at first before kissing her way inward again.

She gave you a tentative lick, cleaning up the juices that remained on your lips and your body twitched, an immediate whimper escaping your mouth.

Yes, she definitely wanted more.

She took her time, easing you back towards ecstasy as she gently licked and sucked at you until you were rocking up into her mouth yet again.

This time, as your hands began to grip the sheets once more she reciprocated your earlier move and grasped one of your hands and placed it on the back of her head to give you free rein. She smiled as your fingers immediately dug into her crown and gripped her hair tightly.

You didn't change her pace, and instead simply gripped her tightly as if to anchor yourself as she brought you to another high.

At one point, she pushed your legs back to give her greater access. The shift in position elicited a wanton moan from you and you palmed helplessly at your face with your free hand as she sent mounting waves of pleasure through you.

By the time your moans heightened again, Jessie starting to identify the signs of your nearing release, she had to consciously stop from grinding herself against the mattress for some hint of release.

You gripped her hair so tightly as you came that she winced, but she ducked her head to ensure you didn't see. Not that she felt you could notice even if you tried with how your cries filled the room and you writhed against the bed. Besides, she considered it a compliment.

Your body shuddered as she slowed her licks in time with the way your breathing began to calm.

"Oh-oh my God," you panted as you lay there dazed, eyes closed, the movement of your breasts catching Jessie's eyes as you worked to catch your breath. "I need a moment."

Jessie bit back a chuckle, very pleased with herself and simply laid a soft kiss on your thigh before wiping her face and moving up to lay next to you.

"Holy shit," you said when you finally managed to open your eyes and peek over at her.

"So...was it okay?" Jessie asked. She very likely knew the answer, but, you'd asked earlier and she wanted to reciprocate. And if there was something else you wanted, she wanted to know that too.

You shot her a withering stare.

"Come on," you said. Her expression must've betrayed her, because you next comment was, "Oh yeah. I see your little smirk. You know damn well how much I enjoyed that." You gave a light huff of a laugh. "And if not, I'm sure the cum on the sheets or whatever was surely dripping down your chin should've been a telltale sign."

Jessie blushed at your language and candor, but she liked it.

"Well, you asked me the same earlier and I thought it was pretty obvious how much I liked it," she countered.

You chuckled, closing your eyes once more for a couple of seconds before responding. "Well, I guess I didn't know how to read your reactions throughout. I'll learn though. My reactions? My neighbours could tell you how good you were. Which will be totally embarrassing if I run into them anytime soon, but, worth it."

Jessie tried to tamp down her smile to avoid appearing smug, but felt her face growing warmer despite whatever satisfaction she felt.

"I see you're ready to go again," you said with a lilt in your voice and a purposeful glance down at Jessie's erection.

"Oh." Jessie's face burned hotter. She shook her head mildly. "That's fine. It'll go away eventually. Or whatever."

Jessie's curiosity piqued as you studied her face for a couple of moments, before suddenly she found herself on her back with you straddling her waist.

"I can help, you know," you said lightly with a gleam in your eye. You pushed your hips back, making brief, teasing contact with her length to prove your point.

"Oh," Jessie voiced as a rush of anxiety went through her while she inadvertently dug her fingers into your hips. You took it as affirmation as rocked against her once more. If the fleeting contact with her cock wasn't enough, having your hot, wet heat rub against her abs was sending her into a daze.

"I, um," she stammered as she tried to think through the pleasure and distraction of you rocking against her body, "I didn't bring any condoms with me," she said as she stared at your waist, mesmerized by how your hips were moving. She forced herself to look you in the eye. "I had no idea this was happening tonight."

You stilled entirely and a puzzled expression slowly crossed your features.

"Condoms?" You asked. Soon you nodded as though reasoning with yourself. "For like, safety. Staying clean - all that, right?" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "Obviously. That makes total sense."

"Well...yeah," Jessie shrugged. As she started to elaborate, she found her gaze flitting away, newfound nervousness rising through her chest. "But, probably the bigger thing is, you know, birth control and all that."

"What?" You asked, clearly surprised. Jessie felt herself growing meek, but she resisted as best she could.

"Yeah," she responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "That aspect is...anatomically accurate as well."

She could practically see your mind reeling. She subconsciously began kneading your hips in some attempt to calm you.

"So, um. Yeah," she said, unable to find the right words.

She watched you carefully, vigilantly looking for any hint of what you were thinking or how you might react. The seconds passed and her heart pounded louder and louder in her ears. She looked at you with a concerned frown.

"Say something, please."

A/N: It was FAR too long to fit into one chapter. I'm working on the next part - if you've read my stuff, you know where I'm leaning with this condom situation lol - let me know your thoughts; I can still go a couple of different directions.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #smut fic #woso smut #g!p

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sugar-grigri · 4 months ago

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Nayuta wasn't killed by Barem, she's his ally

Poor fandom, you're disorientated just when your compasses should be working properly.

Let's learn how to eat sushi properly, step by step. Or rather, how about reading Chainsaw Man in the right order? By calmly superimposing everything we know in the right order

So let's not panic, let's get on with it. Dry your tears, clean your snot and let's get back to the introductions.

First layer of sushi: Denji and Pochita are made for each other

Who is Chainsaw Man? It's a question we've been asking ourselves a lot, but how about a simple answer - we're not here to mess around. Chainsaw Man is the combined result of Pochita + Denji. Do we agree? Why have they become so close? Because they look alike, don't they? Alone, hungry, in need of a little warmth and a little love.

Second layer of sushi: birthday, despair, amnesia...

If we take the stories in outline, Denji meets Makima and then bonds with his siblings. A sibling who eventually dies, and whose final breaking point is his sister, cut in two. On top of that, it's his birthday, isn't it? Makima invites Denji to open the door that confined his traumas, including the death of Denji’s father?

You see, I've already missed it, I went too fast. Let's resume calmly, birthday... Denji had forgotten it was his birthday, hadn't he? His birthday is the day you're born, it's one of the few pieces of information we don't really question, but Denji forgot it. But haven't you ever really wondered...

If Denji had celebrated his birthday? And why, how, he wanted to eat a cake? His father was violent and his mother died when he was very young, so is it really safe to say that Denji celebrated his birthday?

I had another question, why does Fujimoto always seem to accentuate the cakes so much?

I really think that cake is one of the keys, because it's a tunnel of memories that resurfaces in Denji, the cake, his birthday, then Power's death, then his father's death. It's a sushi within a sushi (we're slowly taking things back in order), I think it's about layers that need to be taken back in chronological order, yes chronological 1) the death of Denji's father 2) the death of Power 3) Denji's birthday 4) the cake. Which brings us to this scene.

Was this scene shown not just metaphorical or symbolic, but actually happened? Denji having contracted with the control demon whose power is to control memory, in order to reshape him perfectly so as not to be happy and to do whatever she asks of him later. Why couldn't Denji open that door? Why does Aki's death sound so abruptly like Denji's absence, with a mini ellipsis that doesn't show us in concrete terms how Chainsaw Man killed him? I'm going too fast again, let's start again...

Makima hasn't made Denji unhappy, she's created a being made for unhappiness.

This scene refers to an anniversary, amnesia and despair, all ingredients that enabled Pochita to take complete possession of Denji and show us the most complete version of Chainsaw Man.

Which means Barem isn't lying, is he? Same here, I'm going too fast!

Third layer of sushi: the closer Denji gets to happiness, the more he doubts...

Denji manages to become himself again and succeeds in killing Makima, by devouring her. In a very simple and concrete way, Makima was devoured and this put an end to her existence. Keep this in mind. Nayuta is reborn, becoming Denji's little sister, lots of dogs surround them, Chainsaw Man becomes extremely popular and it's in this part 2 that Denji will feel the least like himself, the least like Chainsaw Man. Strangely enough, it's when he approaches a semblance of happiness that Denji pulls away from himself.

Barem really doesn't seem to be lying, does he? But once again, I'm going too fast, let's get on with it!

Fourth layer of sushi: Barem never lies

This is something I quickly came up with, and it's so precise, I think his character is thought of that way, and it's his narrative role. Even though he's deceitful, manipulative and devious, the bro does NOT LIE. He didn't lie about the weapons attack, he didn't lie that he looked like a Chainsaw Man fan, and he doesn't lie in the last chapter. But same, I'm going too fast.

Fifth layer of sushi: Nayuta betrayed by Chainsaw Man

When Denji made the choice to become Chainsaw Man, the house, his source of happiness, was falling to ashes, his dogs, his cat were dying. Denji went through with his dream and abandoned the little sister who made him happy. Barem didn't impose misfortune on Denji; it was Denji who chose misfortune, despite Nayuta's fears. The happier he was with her, the more he lost himself. He left her in Barem's hands and provoked an existential crisis in her. Which made her reconnect with her old self.

Sixth layer of sushi: an unblocked memory.

The aftertaste that sticks to your palate is a piece of information I mentioned earlier. Makima has been devoured. What defines the Knights of the Apocalypse from the rest of the demons? Their memory. What if Nayuta had now understood how Chainsaw Man's power worked?

Seventh layer of sushi: chapter 170.

This explains Nayuta's severed head, a macabre mise-en-scène to make her brother lose his mind a little more. As for Barem, he doesn't lie to us and gives us instructions on how to read Chainsaw Man. He knows how to read Chainsaw Man, since he knows the two conditions for him to regain his full power because Nayuta gave them to him. For all this is nothing more than their death.

Layer zero of sushi: the unknown.

Now I'm entering the quintessential madness of my analysis. Makima contracted with Denji at a very young age, and gave him several orders: survive at all costs, remain miserable, and one day kill Power and Aki. Above all, she ordered him to contract with Pochita, hence Denji's reflex to hand his open wound directly to the demon. This misfortune, this amnesia due to the contract with Makima, this survival on his own, finally allowed a weakened Chainsaw Man to find a kindred spirit, a loved one. Believing in happiness, then destroying it, kept Chainsaw Man's power in check, those vain dreams only a human could imagine. Denji was a kind of Russian doll, holding back Pochita and his over-power. That's why these two conditions exist.

To be unhappy, or to break this Russian doll.

To be feared by all, or to be alone.

Or kill Denji.

To save Pochita.

Layer - 100000 of sushi: did you think I'd finished losing my head? I don't think so. What if everything I've been telling you all along, taking things in order, were to be done in reverse? Take them out of order. I'll ask the questions so you can understand. Why is Makima so obsessed with Chainsaw Man? Why did the Knights of the Apocalypse fight Chainsaw Man in the underworld? How did they manage to retain their memories? Why start the story with a parricide? Why was Denji finely polished by Makima to welcome Pochita when Makima never saw Denji, the reason for her own death? How could she enter into a contract with someone she has never seen?

Because someone is controlling the control demon itself. Just as it controls the way the story is presented to us. How can we trust an antagonist who controls memory? And an amnesiac protagonist?

Why did Pochita do what he did in the underworld? Why this sudden fury? Why do demons hear chainsaws at the moment of their death?

Because we've come full circle. More precisely, what you're reading is not part 2 but part 1, or to be more (MORE) precise, the end of Chainsaw Man will lead to its beginning. The desire to create a better world, to kill death, will lead to a temporal loop in the world that will never cross the apocalypse, blocked just ahead.

Makima herself is controlled by her future self, which allows her to make references to the future and know the recipes for unleashing Chainsaw Man's power without understanding why, her future self knows Chainsaw Man, she loved him. So Makima also loves Chainsaw Man without really understanding why, amnesiac like Denji.

Denji doesn't kill his father, it's his old self who is killed.

But another Denji tries to put an end to this...

Spiral.

Stuck between two worlds, two temporalities, morning (Asa), night (Yoru), someone is trying to put an end to this endless world, before dawn.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #denji #asa mitaka #my thoughts #yoru #nayuta #barem bridge #barem #fake!csm #csm 170 #chainsaw man chapter 170 #chainsaw man spoilers

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97linelover · 4 months ago

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Destination Heartbreak - Kim Mingyu

summary: it´s always you or his work, your realized that now.

But what if the focus is not you? How will you act with being left alone in a difficult time?

content: Idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff,

wc: 2.2 k

a/n: It´s rather short, but I´m currently so busy at work I barely have time to write...

You were really trying to hold it back, but since your new colleague told your boss about some stuff that wasn't true, you were furious. You always tried to please them all, but if there is not a single bit of trust in them, you would not fight for it anymore.

You grabbed the folders, rushing towards the emergency room. "Y/N, come on," your boss groaned, and you slammed them in the table. "Jieun was already there? Why did I need to run there?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Because I'm your fucking boss and you do what I say, is that clear?" He looked at you, "Believe me when I say that I'll throw you out if you talk back to me once more. I'll make sure you'll never get a job back here in Seoul," he said with such an arrogant tone that made you chuckle.

Disgusting Arrogant Prick.

"You need me here, someone that speaks four languages? Someone that has studied in Germany? I'm way too good, and you know that." You were always polite, but today you broke. "But you know what? You're right, don't worry, I'll be fine." With that, you walked out.

You were tired, so tired.

After finishing your 14-hour shift, you were happy to finally come home again, to see your boyfriend's smile, and to just calm down with him. He was exactly what you needed right now.

as you opened the door to the shared apartment, you walked inside, stumbling over his shoes. You sighed, taking yours off, putting the two pairs into the rack, and walking inside the kitchen.

The food was still scattered around the kitchen, combined with the pans and cutters. The dishwasher was still full with the stuff from yesterday.

You felt your ears ring; you tried to calm down.

You heard some rustling and walked inside the bedroom. You walked towards the wardrobe, and Mingyu was throwing some stuff into his suitcase like a madman; all his clothes were flying around, and your eyes widened.

He looked at you, smiling softly, "Hey baby." He walked towards you and sensed your weird mood. "What's wrong?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm exhausted," you shrugged your shoulders, and he sighed, "you need a bath? I can run you one," you shook your head. "I'm going to clean," you turned around, sounding really annoyed.

"No kiss, nothing? I'm going to get picked up in a few," he sounded sad. "What do you mean? We were supposed to go on a trip tomorrow," you slumped your shoulders, and his eyes looked sad. "I got a call for a spontaneous gig in London with the boys."

"And when did you want to tell me about that? Is this relationship a fucking joke to you? Am I a joke to you?" You raised your voice. "What is wrong with you?" He crossed his arms, becoming stubborn.

"I'm annoyed that you never do a thing here; I come home from a fucking exhausting day and this apartment looks horrific; you were home the entire day and you did nothing; is this so much to ask?" You were louder, and he licked over his lips.

"Oh, come on, shut it. I always try to help. Just because you're overwhelmed with your silly job, don't blame it on me." You felt your heart sink at his words, "silly job." You whispered, "You know what, Mingyu, it's better if you shut up right now; you barely lift a finger here. If I'm at home, I do everything, and when you're at home, you hire a cleaner. I get that you want to chill, but when I come home, I would love some time for me as well." You were now fully screaming.

"Get your shit together, your crazy," he roared, and your eyes widened. "If you're not used to working, baby, you should change it," he said arrogantly, and you felt the tears in your eyes. "What are you saying? Do you not respect my job the slightest?" You whispered, and you noticed how he tensed at your whiny voice.

The doorbell rang, and he looked at you. Suddenly, he realized that he would leave now. In a huge discussion you both have.

"Don't leave, please," you whispered, and he sighed. "You know I need to." He sounded apologetic.

"Of course you do," you sniffed and looked at him carrying his bag. "You're really leaving right now?" You looked at him with red eyes.

"They're waiting, baby; I need to," he said, walking towards you, trying to touch you. "If you leave right now, I can't promise that I'll be here when you're back, Mingyu," you said, trying to sound strong but your throat felt so dry all of a sudden.

"Baby, don't say that," he tried to cup your cheek, but you only took a step back. "Don't you get it? I need to always respect your job, but you never think about the fact that I also have a hard ass job, and I again realized how you think about my silly little job," you walked back.

"Have fun with the boys." You walked inside the bathroom, his eyes locking with yours, but then he went towards the door.

"Let's talk when I'm back." He sighed, but you only shrugged. "If I'm not exhausted by my silly job," you closed the door.

And seconds later you heard how he left the apartment. You let out a sob, feeling so shitty.

He did not care; he left while you two had such a huge fight.

You understand that he needed to do his work stuff, but you two were supposed to go to Jeju tomorrow for 4 days. It was long overdue.

You tried to cancel all the things, but of course it was too late. So as you sat inside the plane towards Jeju, you saw the new post from them at the airport.

You saw all of them cheering, waving, and smiling.

All of them except Mingyu.

You looked through the comments and you felt your heart break a little.

'Who hurt him? He looks so sad' 'Something isn't right; give them all a break.'

'He looks like he got his heart broken; whoever did that, I'll break yours.'

And they were right; he looked extremely sad, heartbroken. But he was not the one that got left behind; he could´ve let them wait for a few minutes.

You saw that they will do some BBC live lounge videos and then they will come back. Maybe you two can talk about everything then.

You tried to enjoy Jeju to the fullest, but it was hard. When you entered your room, there were flowers and champagne greeting you.

All the activities were booked for two, with every activity you were reminded of the trip that should´ve been you two.

And as you carried your suitcase into the elevator, you took a deep breath; he should be home by now. How will you react to him?

You opened the door through the pin, and you could hear some frantic voices: "She fucking left; I can't reach her, Hyung; no, her phone is off; her documents and everything are gone." His voice was full of pain.

But as you walked further inside, he spotted you; his red-rimmed eyes widened. "She's here, Hyung," he ended the call, basically throwing the phone away.

You took a deep breath. "Where were you?" He whispered, pulling his hair. "I thought you left," he pulled you in to his chest. "Fuck, I thought I lost you," he whispered.

"I went to Jeju; I needed some time off," you whispered. "My phone went off, and I forgot the pin," you said quietly, and he looked at you.

"We should talk," he said while stroking your cheek. "We should," you agreed while he sat down.

"I did not mean what I said; I have so much respect for your job, but seeing you so exhausted all the time makes me so sad," he said quietly, and you nodded. "But it's my job; I want to help people, Gyu; I just need someone at home that will make me calm down." You sighed, and he nodded. "I asked for a small hiatus; they told me that it's alright." He took your hand softly in his. "You're my priority; I want us to stay happy, baby, and if I am the reason you're not happy, then I should be ashamed."

He took a shaky breath "I´m sorry for what I said, I am sorry that I left, Im so dumb" he sighed.

You smiled at him and sniffed a little. "I love you so much, Mingyu, and I don't want to fight anymore." He cupped your cheek. "I love you, baby, so much." He softly kissed you.

Mingyu was your safe haven.

#seventeen #svt #kpop #seventeen angst #mingyu #mingyu imagines #smut #gyu #au #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu seventeen #mingyu x y/n

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popponn · 10 months ago

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in perfection and in imperfection.

summary: he is loving, so much so, despite everything and because of 'everything' he calls as you. (a short headcanons of them as boyfriend, again.)

notes: january feels like it will be a busy month for me. in a good way, it's a good feeling. maybe this is also a sign i will meet rl isagi. those things aside, happy new year everyone. good luck for this year too. have this very fit of madness hcs. warnings: none, just fluff of downbad & lovesick boys, reader's gender unspecified.

characters: isagi, chigiri, rin

isagi yoichi—

is so understanding and sharp that you will never feel uncared for. most probably also got a list of your favorite things & important dates in his notes & calendar. even noel noa doesn't get that privilege. he is so downbad that everyone just accepts everything is second to you (and soccer).

is the type that gets so into you once you get his heart. do you worry that you might be #2 soccer? stay still babe, at some point you kind of mix in with 'the soccer' too honestly. every first goal? dedicated in your name. first person to call after a match? you—no matter how short or long it will be, it has to be you. he is away for a match overseas? you better be the one who gets a sleep call schedule ready because when yoichi wants something yoichi will somehow do it. and if you try to praise him—despite all the years of growing confidence—he still gets flustered like a boy with his first crush when it's you. it's as endearing as it is embarrassing to him. if someone points it out he will state it with pride though—after all, his feelings for you are one of his pride.

however, is also the type of guy who would rather shoulder as much as possible. he does it out of love, sure, but having him trying to swallow some problem under the guise of "forcing you to change something is a big no" is just asking for a bigger problem in the long run. so, you do have to be the one who gets the serious talks starting—and he sometimes could get really stubborn even though he is one of the most communicative ones so get ready for that. the thing with yoichi is that he really has to get it to accept it.

chigiri hyoma—

is a beautiful ikemen who walks with the charm of a shoujo manga lead maxed out. as in if this guy falls for you he just naturally acts like a shoujo lead who came to life. and he is also one of the most fashionable guys who puts attention and care on his and your appearance. try to aim for the cutest couple award and high chance you will win.

is also a very dedicated man. he will make sure you know how much he treasures you and it shows. he is not the tidiest person, he is also a pretty demanding guy, but with you? "fine, okay. i'm doing this just for you, you know," he says and hyoma doesn't lie. he will do anything for you. the amount of trust he puts on you is really evident too and he is not one to shy away from saying it. also, trust that this guy will gladly run across tokyo on a lazy monday morning during his rare break just to deliver you anything if you ask. he will demand kisses, yes, but that's also a benefit in its own way.

but, he is also very moody and, admittedly, impatient. so when he gets into this sort of mood you have to keep your head clear and deal with him until his head cools down. he won't hurt you—he will never—but without a doubt his attitude and wording could definitely drag your anger out. he also tends to focus on one thing and one thing only when he gets like this, while it has its benefits, during these times you have to be really patient when trying to talk to him.

itoshi rin—

is the type of guy who truly embodies "it's the small things". also, he is so attentive and combining this with the fact he is more into action than words—you honestly get yourself a gold mine of top-tier 'act of service' bf.

is actually very affectionate once you can translate his silent languages. he is always close to you at every chance he gets. it's not even funny. some people could translate this as some guard dog behavior, some braver souls translate this like a kid following the elder around, but honestly rin just likes being close to you. it calms him down in a way that also somehow manages to keep him awake—which is a nicer way to put 'this guy sometimes barely blinks when he is staring at you'. your happiness is one of his top priorities and he will bite someone literally if he has to just for that. this is how bad it is. but all in all, all of this is a way for him to keep an eye for you and be ready to assist you in anything—you need to take something? you need him to carry something? you want to buy something? just leave it to him, it will make him happy too. if you get overwhelmed? tell him, this guy is actually really quick to adjust things the moment he gets it. and for you? he will somehow do it even faster.

with all that being said though, this guy could get confusing at times. when he gets into a particularly negative thought, his first response would be to bark out his emotions and afterward distance himself. clearly, communication with him is hard. but despite all the silent treatment you get, he still wants to have you close—while being the one who keeps his distance from you. dealing with rin when he is being like this truly requires maturity and delicacy that probably rivals an esper skills.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 23 days ago

Note

I saw this on Twitter and I just screamed because this is so Osita and Javi code 😭 like when she was having bad morning sickness and couldn't eat anything, but Javi just said her favorite foods and went to buy them 🥹

https://x.com/pascalisswift/status/1847825290875048157?s=46

McFlurry for Two

Summary: You're wide awake, pregnant, and have no idea what you want to eat. Lucky for you, Javi has an idea of what may make you feel better

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: This is all fluff and sweetness 🥺 Mentions of morning sickness and food aversion

A/N: Sweet non, whoever you are, this is the most adorable thing I've ever seen 😭 You know that this man would cross the ends of the earth and back to get you whatever you were craving. Dad to be!Javi is top tier, 10/10, no notes.

It doesn't surprise Javi to find you wandering around the kitchen at 5:30 in the morning anymore. Thank god he's always been an earlier riser- it makes it easier to keep you company as you shuffle through the boxes and containers in the pantry for the 3rd time since you've woken up, trying to will whatever you and the baby have been craving into your kitchen. Even if he wasn't an earlier riser, the sounds of you frantically scavenging through every food item you own like some sort of wild raccoon would be enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers.

It also doesn't surprise him when he stumbles into your kitchen, half awake and half dressed, he hears the sounds of your sniffles, crying in frustration that you can't figure out what you want to eat at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Baby's hungry?" He asks, never blaming you for whatever strange, nearly non-edible combinations you're looking for. He made that mistake once early on- He's learned his lesson ever since.

You still can't help but pout, arms crossed over your chest, trying to hold back your tears as Javi sneaks up behind you, the warmth of his bare chest pressed against your back, hands wrapping around to splay across your growing bump.

"Yeah. We have nothing to eat."

It takes everything in Javi not to laugh as the two of you stare into your open pantry, filled to the brim with every snack imaginable from the 6 trips he's made to the grocery store this week alone.

Truth be told, he's just happy you're eating again after 3 hellish months of barely being able to keep anything down besides bananas and diet Coke. He'll take multiple trips to the grocery store instead of watching you hunch over the toilet in misery any day of the week.

"Anything sound good, Osita?" That's a question he's learned is a gamble too- when you already have an answer in mind, you couldn't be happier he's asked. When you don't, he's come to find it's a question that can quickly lead to tears.

Unfortunately for him, this morning, it's the second.

"I-I don't know. I'm so hungry and nothing sounds good. And then I think something sounds good, but then I think about it for too long, and then the thought of it makes me wanna yak. Ugh, I just wanna eat!" For as humorous as the basis of your conundrum is, it still breaks his heart to watch you cry, gently kissing your shoulder and rubbing his hands back and forth across your belly to try and ease at least a little bit of your pain. You're growing his baby, for Christ's sake. If you wanted fresh spaghetti and meatballs, he'd be on the next flight to Italy, if that's what it took.

"Shhhh, I know, honey. It's okay. We'll figure out what Baby wants, I promise. Want me to list things, and then you can tell me if they sound any good?" He knows his one good brain cell is definitely not working full force, considering the sun was still hours away from waking the rest of the world, but he also knows that your poor brain is working overtime and a half. The slim chance he can come up with a solution that gives you any sort of relief is solace enough for him.

"O-okay." You sniffle, gulping down the rest of your tears. Javi knows he's not a mind reader, but Lord knows it would sure help if he could be one right now.

"Pickles and sriracha?"

"Ew, no. Spicy stuff sounds gross and I don't wanna have heartburn later."

"Sour gummy worms?"

"Ehhhh, maybe."

"Garlic bread?"

"Oh god, no. Please don't say that again, or I may legitimately throw up."

"Okay, not that, got it. Uh, shit- What about... French fries? Like, french fries dipped in chocolate ice cream?"

He braces himself for the next 10 seconds of silence as you ponder his suggestion. Thankfully, your silence is golden.

"Oh my god, that's what I wanted! How did you know that's what I wanted?" Even though you're still crying, at least now they're tears of relief, Javi letting out a quiet exhale of satisfaction himself at the fact it only took him a single digit number of guesses to solve your hunger riddle.

"Lucky guess." Javi smiles as he gently wipes the tears from your eyes, kissing your forehead before bending down to kiss your belly. It does a number on his knees, but he'll take all the joint pain he can handle before passing up on a chance to greet his two favorite girls good morning. "Try and go get some more sleep, Osita. I'll be back in a few with food. There anything else you want while I'm out?"

He's not sure what he's said in the past 3 sentences that's made you start crying again- he hasn't been able to figure out a pattern in the past 5 months, and guesses he won't come close in the 54to come.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Baby, don't cry, it's okay." He coos, draping his arms around you to pull him against his chest, letting your weepy tears drip against his tanned, warm skin.

"I'm- I'm sorry." Your apology only spurs your tears on further.

"Sorry? What on Earth do you have to be sorry about, Osita?"

"That I'm always hungry and can't stop crying about it."

He can't help but smirk at this one, brushing the sleepy strands of hair away from your face as he carefully cups your cheek, tilting your chin up just enough to place a delicate kiss on your lips.

"Cariño, you don't have to apologize. You're pregnant. No offense mi amor, but I kind of expect crying and being hungry all the time to be a given."

Javi's relieved to finally hear at least a little giggle out of you now, quiet laughter replacing your tears as you remember that somehow, you were lucky enough to be married to a literal saint sent down from the heavens.

"I know, I just- You're so good to me. You're so good to both of us. Way too good to us."

"You're literally growing our baby inside you. French fries and ice cream is about the least I can do."

"I love you, Jav."

"I love you too, Osita. Try and go back to sleep for a little while I'm gone, okay? You and Baby Girl gotta rest up for this McDonald's."

As much as you'd love to protest, it doesn't take much for Javi to get you to curl up on the couch, wrapping you up in your favorite blanket with the TV on low. He laughs to himself as he reappears from your bedroom, putting on enough clothes to go through the drive-through, only to find you passed out cold, mouth half-agape and snoring like a train.

At this point, the McDonald's staff practically knows him by his first name, considering Javi's the only one who's ordering french fries and a chocolate McFlurry before the sun has yet to rise. He knows he has some at home, but it's more often than not that a large, black coffee has now become a part of his order, too, and none of the employees can blame him for that.

The sky has slowly begun to shift from shades of black and blue to warm pinks and oranges as he pulls into the driveway, a sign he's more than likely not making into work on time- his co-workers have learned that a pregnant wife pretty much trumps everything else, short of a life or death emergency.

You're still sound asleep as he tiptoes through the rest of his morning routine, scribbling a quick note under the bag of fries he's left for you on the end table next to the couch, sneaking one last kiss before he leaves for work and begins the countdown of coming back home to you.

It doesn't surprise him to hear his phone ring not long after he's made it into the office- He is almost sure it's you- he's got a 6th sense for it at this point.

"Peña."

"Your note made me cry this morning."

He doesn't mean to beam with an ear to ear grin as he listens to talk about how you're crying, but there's few things in this world he'd rather hear than the sweet sound of your voice.

"You crying at the note, or the fact there's two McFlurries in the freezer instead of one?"

"....Both. How'd you know I would change my mind and say I wanted vanilla instead?"

The concrete evidence is in the pile of crinkled drive-through receipts in his center console, but now's not a time for "I told you so's".

"Just had a feeling. You and Baby Girl enjoy your breakfast."

"This is the most embarrassing version of a breakfast I've had in a very long time, but I guess it's an upgrade from bagels and hot sauce. God, she's gonna have the weirdest taste in food when she grows up, isn't she?"

"If she grows up to be anything like you, I'll be the happiest man alive, hot sauce and all."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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bloodibambiidoll · 1 year ago

Text

Beer and Bunny’s

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Eddie can’t seem to get himself to make a move on the new bartender at the hideout he has a crush on, but one night you decide to take matters into your own hands and he sees something that he just can’t resist. Wk:4.5K

Warnings: 18+MINDI Smut (unprotected P in V), Oral (M & F), Eddie being a lil pervy but reader is into it, kind of inexperienced!Eddie (he’s really nervous and has a lot of self doubt. My head canon for this Eddie is that he’s been with a few girls but none of them were interested in more than a one night stand), no use of Y/N so pet names, and I think that’s it? The smut is kinda soft n sweet, nothing too crazy. Lmk if I missed any!!

A/N: So I was running errands wearing my black mini skirt and my pink bunny panties the other day and this idea came to me. It’s super self indulgent tbh, but in my mind Eddie would lose his shit over something like this and I’ll die on that hill. 🫡 Also I usually read through my shit obsessively but I only read through this once so if you see mistakes, no you didn’t. (Not really tho pls tell me so I can fix them bc typos make me crazy) My Masterlist

Eddie was in a trance, playing his guitar on autopilot as he watched you bus tables, make drinks, and occasionally indulge a customer’s flirting for extra tips. Not that you needed to, that dress and your sweet smile was enough to have any man dumping his wallet out and emptying his bank account for you. Or maybe that was just him.

He knew it wasn’t though, because even though his band was up there putting their hearts into playing for 15 people tops, most of their eyes followed you. Granted it was mostly drunk middle aged men besides Ruth, a 60 something year old woman who was always sitting in the same stool at the bar, drinking the same cheap vodka, with her red lipstick smudged on her teeth. But still, he’s convinced even if the room was filled with a hundred women you’d still be the prettiest one there.

You started working at the hideout a few months ago when you moved to town and ever since then it was like Eddie was possessed by you. He thought about you constantly, the way those cut up band tees always fit so perfectly and how your ass always looked in those tight little skirts has him fisting his cock sometimes twice a night. He wanted to record the way your voice sounded saying his name when you’d bring him his favorite beer after a show without him even asking and play it on a loop over and over again.

But that wasn’t all, he thought about little things like holding your hand, or going to the drive-in and watching horror movies with you. Or just kissing you, god, he wanted to kiss your pretty glossed lips.

The only issue was every time you talked to him it was like his brain turned to mush and everything he had practiced to say disappeared from his mind.

Tonight was different though. After their last song when you came to bring him his beer, you gave him that sweet smile and told him how awesome they did like you always do. But then it happened. You accidentally walked backwards into one of the small amps, tipping it backwards.

“Oh my god! I'm so sorry, shit!” You apologized before turning around to pick it up and when you did Eddie felt like he was about to cum in his pants.

You were wearing this tight little faux leather mini dress with a zipper that went all the way down the middle and these sexy calf high combat boots. But when you bent over he saw you were wearing the cutest pink panties that had little bunnies printed all over them and something about that combination made him absolutely feral.

He heard a whistle behind him and when he snapped his head around to see where it came from he saw one of the guys sitting at the table closest to the stage practically licking his lips while he ogled you. He instantly felt possessive and moved closer so he was standing a few inches behind you, blocking you from everyone else.

You pulled the amp up with a huff before turning around and nearly jumping out of your skin when you realized how close he was.

“Holy shit! You scared me!” You brought your hand to your chest and laughed. “I didn’t know you were so close.”

“Y-yeah I’m sorry, when you bent over, you could uh- see your panties and um… people were looking.” He turned beet red and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh, you’re so sweet Eddie, protecting my modesty.” You placed a hand on his forearm and caressed it with your thumb a few times before you stepped close enough to him to whisper in his ear. “Were you looking too?” You pulled away just enough to look up into his eyes through your lashes.

“I- I mean- fuck.” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry… I know I shouldn’t have you were just standing right in front of me and then that guy whistled and-“

“Eddie!!” You squeezed his arm gently to get him to look at you and when he did you just wanted to kiss him. Those big brown eyes all filled with a mixture of lust and guilt were driving you crazy. “It’s okay… I want you to look.”

He’s pretty sure his brain just short circuited, you want him to look? What does that mean?

“I- you want me to- really?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “You think I dress like this every time I work? Nope. Only on Tuesdays… just for you, Eds.”

“Shit. Really?” He looked at you in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the girl he’s been dreaming about is really standing here in a sexy little dress telling him that she wore it for him.

“Yeah.” You nodded and bit your lip. “I like how you look at me, it makes me… So. Wet.”

He threw his head back and groaned, he never thought you’d be so forward like this.

But he didn’t know that you had been waiting for him to make a move on you for weeks. You were tired of dancing around your obvious attraction to one another so you decided tonight you were going to take matters into your own hands.

“Shit sweetheart. You can’t just say things like that to me in public. You’re seriously going to make me bust in my pants. ”

“Well… don’t do that.” You giggled. “I know somewhere better that you can cum though…” You ran your hand down his arm and linked your hands together causing him to shiver. God, he was so responsive, you knew he liked you but apparently you didn’t know just how much.

“Fuck. Are you serious?”

“Deadly. You have a van, right? What’s the back like? Maybe you can show me.” You winked at him.

“Shit, yeah, I’d love to. But I have to put all this shit in the back and take it back to Gareth’s garage.” He looked so disappointed you just wanted to kiss his pouty pink lips.

“Hmmm… well, I live down the street. What if you drop off your stuff and meet me at my place after?” You suggested.

“GARETH! Take my van to your house, I’ll come get it later.” He turned to his drummer and threw him his keys.

“Dude. Seriously? You’re just going to leave us to pack up all this shit?”

His other band mate, who you think is named Jeff, looked between you and Eddie and put two and two together pretty quickly.

“We’ve got it man, have fun!” He wiggled his eyebrows at him before going back to packing up their equipment.

“Well, it looks like I’m all yours.” Eddie smiled at you nervously. God, he was just too cute.

“Looks like it, cutie. I’m off now, just gotta clock out. I usually walk so if you just wanna wait outside I’ll be right there.” You got on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before jumping off the stage and walking toward the back of the bar, making sure to swing your hips extra for him.

•

The walk back to your apartment was filled with easy conversation and stolen glances, hands grazing but not quite grasping onto each other. The air heavy with the tension of what was to come.

“This is me!” You gesture towards the front door of your apartment before unlocking it and letting him inside.

Eddie looked around as you turned on some lights, he saw some cool posters on the walls and a large bookshelf in the corner. But before he could take in too much of your world you walked over to him and put your arms around his neck.

“Hi.” You smiled at him with a glint in your eye.

“Hey.” He returned your smile with a crooked smirk, bringing his hands to rest on your hips.

You brought one of your hands to his jaw, cupping it and running your thumb along his cheek. “I really really want to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t respond, instead he pulled you closer by the hips and smashed his lips against yours. His lips felt just as you imagined, pillowy soft and just the tiniest bit chapped. He tasted like the beer you gave him, the cigarette he smoked on the walk, and something that was just him. You moaned into the kiss, shoving your hands into his hair, tugging slightly. He groaned when you licked along his bottom lip, allowing you access. He kissed you until your knees were weak and you were both breathless.

“You are so beautiful. Fuck. I can’t believe I’m here right now. This feels like a dream.” He ran his hands up your sides over your dress. “Also this fucking dress… Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah? You like it? It’s new.” You took a step back so you could do a twirl for him. “I thought about you when I bought it, you know…” you brought your finger to the o-ring at the top of the zipper and tugged on it a little.

“I thought about you dragging me to the dingy bar bathroom, shoving me up against the wall and ripping it off me.”

“Holy. Fuck. You’re naughty, huh?” He chuckled.

“Maybe, wanna find out?” You grab his hand and start walking backwards toward your bedroom, dragging him with you.

You plop down on your bed to take your boots off but before you can reach for the laces Eddie walks forward and takes your foot in his hand, unlacing your shoes for you. Once they’re loose enough he pulls them both off your feet and he’s pretty sure you aren’t real at this point.

Your socks are the same pink as your panties with cute little bunny ears at the top of the ankles. Your socks match your panties.

“Yeah, you like these too?” You wiggled your toes in front of his face and giggled while he looked at you and froze, his face turning bright red.

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you did. Wanna know if my bra matches too?” You sit back on your hands and stick your chest out.

“Hell yeah I do.” He nodded dumbly.

“Why don’t you take my dress off and find out then, pretty boy.”

He didn’t hesitate to lean down and slip his finger into the o-ring zipper of your dress, slowly beginning to slide it down. When the tops of your breasts were exposed it became more and more clear that your bra didn’t match your panties because you weren’t fucking wearing one. He pulled the zipper down until it was just under the bottom of your tits and just as he thought, no bra. Your chest was on full display, slightly glistening with sweat from the material of your dress and he wanted to lick it off.

“Fuck, look at you… prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.” Not that he’d seen many but he’s pretty sure these are the best tits in the world regardless.

“You can touch them Eddie, I want you to.” You brought your hands up to squeeze them a few times before grabbing onto your nipples and twisting.

“Hold on, I’m appreciating the art before I destroy it.” He grabbed back onto your zipper and pulled it the rest of the way down so your dress was hanging open. You let the straps fall down your arms, leaving you in just those little panties and socks and he had never seen anything sexier. Your hair was a bit disheveled but still in the style you had done it in before you left for work earlier that night and your slightly smudged dark eye make-up contrasted with the soft pink of your garments. You stand up in front of him and play with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Take this off? I wanna see you too.”

He reaches behind his back to pull his shirt over his head and god damn. He has a few tattoos littered across his pale chest, his skin mostly smooth aside from his happy trail that you wanted to nuzzle your nose into on your way down to his cock.

“Wow. You are so sexy Eds.” You run your nails down his chest and torso, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling his chest against yours. The feeling of your bare nipples pressed up against his warm skin sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah? You think so? I think you’re the sexiest girl in the world.” He blushed.

“Thank you baby, can I take these off?” You pull on his belt loops with your fingers, running your thumbs along his soft waist.

“Please”

That’s all you needed to hear before you were on your knees in front of him, undoing his pants and pulling them down with his boxers.

“Holy shit Eddie…” Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the sight of him fully bare in front of you. “You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to taste it.” And you meant it, his cock was fucking huge, the hard tip leaking just for you.

He was speechless, looking down at you on your knees in front of him with wide eyes.

You lean forward and run your tongue along his slit, holding eye contact with him while you take his tip in your mouth, suckling on it a few times before taking him deep in your throat.

“Oh fuuuuckkk holy shit.” He brought his hand to the back of your head and rested it there gently, letting you set your own pace.

But it was too gentle. You didn’t want him to hold back.

“Eddie.” You pulled your mouth off him with a pop and a string of saliva. “Use me, pull my hair, fuck my mouth, don’t be shy.”

“Holy shit. Are you- are you sure?” He was panting, looking down at you like you just told him he won the lottery.

“I’m so fucking sure, so so sure. If I don’t like something I’ll tell you baby. I promise, I like it rough.”

You spit in your hand, grabbing onto his cock and tugging it a few times before looking up at him with your tongue out.

He was still looking down at you with those big shiny doe eyes and you were about to lose it if he didn’t do something. Your other hand grabs onto his, guiding it to your hair and signaling for him to grab onto it. It took his mind a second to catch up but when he did it was like something snapped in him.

He grabbed onto your hair hard and slid his cock along the length of your tongue, hitting the back of your throat.

“Close your mouth- yeah, like that.” Once your lips were wrapped around him he started to slowly rock back and forth in your mouth, testing you by going deeper with each thrust.

After a few times of him hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag he realized you liked it. Your eyes were watery, mascara starting to run down your cheeks, drool was dripping down your chin and you were fucking moaning around him like you were getting as much pleasure out of this as he was.

He was fully fucking your mouth now, pumping his cock down your throat while he cursed and moaned, using you just like you wanted. You reach your hand up to grab onto his drool slick balls and take them in your palm causing him to jerk forward and let out the sexiest moan yet.

“FUCKING SHIT!” He used your hair to pull you off of him and you look up at him with hooded eyes, a mixture of his precum and your drool dripping down your chin and he has to physically will himself not to cum at the sight. “ If you keep that up I’m going to cum in the next thirty seconds and I was really hoping I’d get to fuck you.”

“What? You don’t wanna cum twice? We have all night, unless you’re busy then I guess you can stop.” You said dramatically, in a way that he would’ve stopped to find really cute if he wasn’t so fucking turned on right now.

He practically growled as he grabbed back onto your hair and resumed his assault on your throat. One of your hands finds its way back to his balls while the other snakes around him to grab a handful of his ass for leverage.

“F-fuck this mouth is so fuckin- You’re such a good girl fuckin droolin all over, grabbin my balls while I use your little mouth. Wearing those little fuckin panties and socks. Fuck!” His grip on your hair tightened and his hips sputtered as you felt him explode in your mouth. You swallowed around him, moaning at his taste and taking all that he gave you.

He released his hold on your hair and you pulled your mouth off of him, bringing your pointer finger to the corner of your mouth to swipe the cum that dripped there into your mouth.

“Mmmm, you taste so good Eddie.” You smiled up at him, still on your knees.

“Yeah? I bet you taste even better.”

“Wanna find out?” You smirked at him, getting to your feet and laying back on the bed.

“Fuuuuuck” Eddie groaned at the sight of you laying there for him with your legs spread, a very prominent wet patch in those fucking panties, your hands grabbing on to your tits while your fingers pinch your nipples. You looked like the only meal he wanted to eat for the rest of his life. He got on the bed on his knees between your legs, smashing his lips to yours and kissing you like his life depended on it. He slid his tongue along your bottom lip and you immediately granted him access. He tasted himself on your tongue and it caused him to moan into the kiss.

He kissed down your jaw to your neck, running his tongue along the column of your throat, stopping just behind your ear at your pulse point to suck a mark there. He kissed and licked and sucked all the way down your body, stopping to pay your nipples extra attention.

When he reached the band of your panties he licked across your waist and nipped at your hips causing you to let out breathy little moans. He placed a kiss on each of your hip bones before placing one right on the top of your mound, looking up at you with those fucking eyes.

“Mmm baby, I can smell you.” He groaned as he breathed in your scent, flicking his tongue out to run it along your cloth covered slit, adding extra pressure to your clit. He wraps his lips around your bud, swirling his tongue, and even with the small barrier between you it still makes you see stars. He licks all around your cunt, soaking your already wet underwear as he laps at it. Finally he brings his finger to your panties to move them to the side and you barely even have time to process before he’s shoving his tongue as deep as it can go inside of you. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out.

“Oh f-fuck! Yes Eddie fuck!” Your hands come down and tangle into his hair, tugging it and causing him to groan into your pussy, the vibrations going through you like a shockwave.

His tongue came back up your bud, rotating between rough and soft flicks. His pointer and ring finger circle your hole before he inserts them both fully without resistance. He pumps them in and out of you, the room filled with the sounds of your moans and wetness as he laps at you. He sucks harder on your clit just as he curls his fingers just right and you see stars. Your grip on his hair tightened as your hips rocked against his face, his name on your lips like a prayer, riding out your high until it becomes too much and you’re pushing his head off of you.

He looks up at you with your jucies still running down his chin and fucking smiles.

“Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

“Yeah? And have you tasted a lot of pussys, Mr. Munson?” You tease.

“I mean-“ Suddenly his face flushes red and that shy nervous boy from earlier was back “Not… that many, a few. I’m no lady killer or anything I mean you know this town is I-“

You grab his face in both of your hands and place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Honey, I was just teasing, I don’t care how many girls you’ve been with, I wouldn't even care if you hadn’t been with any.”

You smiled at him sweetly, pushing his bangs off his forehead and he smiled back, kissing you deeply. There was something so comforting about you to him, he felt like he could truly be himself with you and he’s not sure he’s felt that when he was with a woman ever.

You sit up and push him down by his shoulders, swinging your leg over to straddle him. Your underwear were still pushed to the side, your slick pussy lips were nestled on either side of his shaft as you slid back and forth on him with ease.

“I can’t wait to feel this pretty cock splitting me open.” You leaned forward and slid your fingers in the band of your underwear to take them off but Eddie’s hands came down on yours, stopping you.

“Can you keep them on?” His eyes were pleading, his lips pouty.

“Anything for you, sweet boy. You really like these huh?” You giggled.

“The whole cute pink panties and socks underneath the black leather thing is really doing it for me, if you couldn’t tell.” He bit his lip, running his hands down your sides before bringing them to your tits to squeeze them roughly.

You giggled as you rose up to your knees, taking him in your hand so you could line him up with your entrance and sink down on him slowly. Once your hips were flush against his you both moaned loudly.

“Fuck, so big, filling me up so good Eds.” You rocked back and forth slightly, just adjusting to the feeling of him so deep inside you. Once you felt adjusted you rose almost all the way off his cock before slamming back down on it causing him to jerk forward and moan out your name.

“Holy fuckin shit, your pussy is suckin me in so good holy fu-fuck, ridin me s-so good baby.” And you were, you were riding him like your life depended on it. “Bouncin on my cock just like those little bunnies on your panties, is that what you are? A lil bunny?”

That snapped something inside you, it was like he said the magic words and nothing else mattered in that moment besides riding his cock, being his little bunny.

You were on your heels now, using his shoulders for leverage as you bounced on his cock. Rotating and rolling your hips, the patch of curly brown hair at his base rubbing against your clit just right.

Eddie was in Heaven, he wanted to throw his head back and shut his eyes but he couldn’t tear them off of you. You were bouncing on his cock like a rabbit in heat. A layer of sweat glistened on your body, your hair a mess, there was a bit of drool dripping down your chin and your pussy was swallowing him hole over and over again, you were so wet he could see a milky white ring of your cum on his cock. He was going to cum soon but he absolutely needed you to before he did.

His grip on your hips tightened causing your movements to halt, but before you could even protest he was fucking up into you hard and fast.

“Oh fuuuuck yes, just like that baby, right fuckin there don’t fuckin stop I’m so close.” That’s all Eddie needed to hear, he brought one of his thumbs down to your slick clit and started rubbing fast circles on it while he continued to fuck up into you at a brutal pace.

“Shit, me too bunny, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“Inside! Inside please Eddie I want you to fill me up.”

“Oh godddd” He let out a guttural groan, throwing his head back while he pumped his cum deep inside of you. The feeling sent you over the edge, coming undone on his cock while he continued to sloppily fuck you both through your highs.

You sighed, and exhaustedly let your body slump over Eddie’s while you both tried to catch your breath.

“Holy. Shit. That was… wow” he chuckled, running his hands up and down your back.

“Yeah, it really was.” You giggled as you rolled off of him, laying on your side next to him and resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. He was so pretty, his hair disheveled, his skin flushed and decorated in your nail marks, his lips swollen with your kisses. He smiled at you sweetly, shifting around so he could hold you better, he finally got a glimpse of your room.

He didn’t even really look at it when you walked it, he obviously noticed that you had a black open canopy on your four post bed but what he didn’t notice was the cute stuffed animals that were sitting by your black silk pillows, or the cool ass horror movie posters on the walls that contrasted that completely. You noticed him looking around, his eyes filled with awe, like he was genuinely interested in your world and it warmed your heart.

“I like your room, you really have this whole creepy cute thing down to a science don’t you?” He smiled at you, cradling your jaw in his hand and you leaned into it.

“Mhm, I guess I do.” You returned his smile with your own sleepy one, yawning. “You wanna stay the night? You don’t have to if you don’t want to but-“

“I want to.” Eddie cut you off, it was his turn to reassure you. You had seemed so sure of yourself all night but when it came down to if he was going to leave or not he could tell it made you nervous, like maybe people didn’t usually want to stay with you after and that broke him a little. Who wouldn’t want to stay with you? You’re perfect. To him at least. “I want to stay, and I want to take you to breakfast in the morning. I also would really like to take you on a proper date, if that’s something you’d want to do.”

Your heart swelled, because you did want that, more than he knew.

“I’d love that actually.”

“Good.”

You both giggled and kissed each other sweetly, whispering jokes and sweet nothings into each others ears until sleep peacefully took over.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie munson x reader smut #Eddie munson x fem!reader smut #Eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fanfiction

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brandwhorestarscream · 2 months ago

Note

Megatronus talking to Megatron fic please?

Hell yeah lets go. Mostly just transcribed from my rambling in discord, but nyeh

Consider: the cogs they've been given influence their host a bit. Like how, donated organs sometimes have "memories" from their old bodies that they had before. Giving the host physical sensations and habits they didn't have before (it's a real thing, look it up)

We know that Liege Maximo wasn't responsible for orchestrating Solus's death in this universe, but it's still very possible he's still got a very dark and twisted streak inside him. What if D-16's sudden, violent resolve to kill Sentinel came from Liege Maximo? He 100000% wants Sentinel dead because he's a traitor and doesn't deserve to live, and his influence still on his cog combined with D-16's righteous anger came together into the drive to rip that mech apart, with his bare hands.

What I'm getting at is, the cogs have "memory" and influence, to a point. Optimus got Prima's cog, so naturally he stepped into a more rigid leadership position that was staunchly against purposefully extinguishing sparks. So, when D-16 takes Megatronus Prime's cog from Sentinel's chest, he gets hit with a blast of Presence from the God of War himself, and already riled up and angry he kinda. Spirals out of control.

The Spirit of War drives him to fight, protect, destroy. Raze that evil mech's influence to the ground so not a single shred of him remains. Unless his presence is completely annihilated, there's a chance it could seep into the cracks and take up root again, and slowly sink it's insidious fingers into their people once more. He cannot allow that!

Fast forward to that night and newly christened Megatron is still angry, angry, angry… until he falls asleep and his processor can get a much-needed rest and defrag. He dreams about- about Orion, about… the surface, about Sentinel, about everything. He sees Sentinel taking Orion away, sees Orion bloodied and lifeless falling into a pit of despair. He sees himself, out of his body, trying to save him but he can't. He sees his best friend looking at him in sadness and disgust and, finally, feels the sadness and misery he'd been stubbornly choking down suddenly force it's way into his throat.

...Is he awake? Is he asleep? It hits him so intensely he can't tell, and just. Plops down on the ground, arms wrapping around himself and beginning to sob with all the force of his broken spark. It's not fair. Everything… everything has changed, he's lost everything and everyone and- and he's still angry! Why does he feel like this? How does he make it stop? He doesn't want to be angry anymore, he doesn't want… whatever this is that he can feel slowly creeping toward him. This isn't over. Something bad is coming. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want this, he doesn't want this-!

He about jumps out of his plating when someone suddenly touches his helm, and nearly falls over when he looks up and finds a hulking, huge mech had settled down next to him. Thrice his size, at least, and before, that wouldn't have been strange. Expected, even. But now he has his cog, his alt mode, he's much bigger now. Even so, he feels puny in this mech's shadow, but his size alone isn't the surprising part.

Painted purple and black with a face that Megatron knows extremely well. He rubs his optics and shakes his helm, but he's still there. His vocalizer squeaks when he utters the name, "M- Muh-! Megatronus Prime?!"

He's definitely still dreaming. He has to be. But- But everything feels so grounded and lucid and real- but-

Megatronus Prime chuckles softly. "Sorry to frighten you, little one," he lats the ground next to him. "Sit with me?"

"I- um," he blinks. "Y-Yes sir?"

Megatron has no idea what to say. He sits a respectful distance away, hugging his knees and just o.o staring at him shellshocked the whole time. It- It has to be a dream but it feels real. Is… Is Megatronus actually here with him? Surely he can't be, but…

The Prime waves his servo out in front of them, and warm, gently burning orange fire materializes from nowhere. It floats in a ball before them, lighting the dark, shadowy night. Megatron can feel the heat on his cheeks, and the sensation is too real to be anything but.

"You… y-you're really here-!" He gasps and wipes clumsily at his still-wet face. "Oh- Oh my Primes, you're really-" Promptly slaps a servo over his mouth, optics wide. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear, I know we shouldn't use the Primes names in vain I just- y-you're here and- and-"

Megatronus laughs and shakes his helm fondly, reaching over to gently pat his helm. "Peace, youngling, peace. I take no offense." Prima, on the other hand… ooh, how he hated hearing their children swear. It amused the god of war, more than anything. He gave the little silver mech a thoughtful once over. "You have my cog." It's not a question.

Megatron flinches and brings both servos to to his chest. "I- I'm sorry!" He means it too, hanging his helm and looking ashamed. "I- I was just- he took it, he killed you and he took and I- I couldn't just let him keep it," it was impulsive, he would admit, swapping it for the cog already in his own chassis. His voice lowers to a shameful whisper. "D'you… w-want it back?" He doesn't want to go back to being cogless, but…

Luckily, Megatronus shakes his helm. "No, no, keep it. I've no use for it anymore. Heh," a humorless sound that could almost pass as a sarcastic laugh. "Though, I should ask. Wouldn't you rather have yours?"

"What do you mean?"

He holds out one huge servo, palm flat, and an image flickers to life, misty and glowing blue similar to the visions Alpha Trion had shown them. It's simple this time, just a standard transformation cog. But… Megatron chokes. "You mean-?! Th-This one is-?"

"Yours," the Prime nods. "We keep track. We've kept track of every cog he stole, and whom it belongs to. If you want yours, I'll grant it to you."

He's stunned silent, mouth hanging open and entranced by the vision. He… he could have it back? He'd come to accept that his cog was gone, that that monster had molested his newborn body and plucked it right from his chassis, that a part of him had been stolen and desecrated before he even opened his optics for the first time. A hurt that could never heal… a wound he'd carry til the day he died.

But now, Megatronus Prime, his greatest hero and idol, is talking to him and offering it back. All he can do is sit there with his jaw slack.

The god of war seems amused, laughing for real this time and reclining back against the solid metal behind him. He reaches out and wraps one arm around the youngling, who squeaks in surprise, and pulls him close against his side. "You don't have to decide now," he promises. "You can keep mine, if you like the way it feels. And if you change your mind someday, that's fine too."

He's not at all expecting the sudden sob that bubbles up from his side, and looks down in surprise. Little namesake suddenly curls against him, shaken by the first positive physical contact he's had in multiple days, beginning to weep with earnest against his hero's side.

"Wh-"

"I'm sorry!" The words burst out of him in a rasping voice heavily laden with sorrow and wet sobs. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry! I- I didn't mean to, it wasn't supposed to happen like that, I didn't wanna hurt him, I- I didn't mean to I was just so mad-"

This… really isn't Megatronus's forte. He doesn't know what to say, so opts not to say much at all, instead gently draping his arm around the young, miserable bot and just letting him huddle beneath him, weeping brokenly.

"I know, little one… I know. It's alright-"

"It's NOT alright!" He wails. "Nothing is alright! I wanna go home but I don't have a home anymore, and- and Orion hates me and everyone probably hates me and- and I killed my best friend and I took your cog without asking and," he takes a great, heaving, wheezing invent. "And I'm just like Sentinel!"

Megatronus goes from awkward to actively panicking in about 2 seconds. Ok, tears he can deal with. Let them cry it out and release all the stress and they'll be fine afterwards. That's how it goes. But… super deep seated self doubt and worry you've turned into the monster you just defeated? That's- That's really not something he knows how to deal with. Megatronus Prime does not know how to deal with kids.

"...wait, no-" he gives the little one a gentle shake. "No, no, that isn't true-" he continued to wail and cry like the world is ending, like his spark really has shattered into pieces. "You're not- you didn't intend to hurt your friend and wouldn't have if it was up to you, and--forgive me, Mother--Sentinel needed to be dealt with. "You've nothing in common with that mech aside from the cog you both hosted in your chest-"

That just seems to make him cry harder, and Megatronus flounders. What to do, what to do?! Um, uh-

"Oh!" He reaches up with both hands, undoing clasps and deactivating invisible magnets. "Here! Do you want to try on my mask?"

That gets him. Megatron raises his helm suddenly, still hiccupping, tears still streaming down his cheeks. His mouth is still trembling, but he's no longer wailing.

"Wh-" he whimpers softly. "What….?"

Megatronus undoes the last clasp and removes his giant purple mask, lowering it slowly and giving the little silver mech a somewhat sheepish look, red optics peering over the rim. "Do you… want to try it on?"

Megatron blinks twice, then thrice. "That's a mask?"

The god of war nods, lowering it further. He has an unexpectedly pretty, almost delicate face. "My Solus made it for me," he admits, sounding almost shy. "To tell the truth, I… ahem, I get… rather anxious when people see my face. Solus made this for me, quite a long time ago." it's huge when he reaches to offer it to Megatron, nearly the size and width of a small table.

Megatron's hands are still shaking as it's laid across his lap, pinning him to the ground end eliciting an "oof!" of surprise. It's heavy! It weighs more than the miners did when they were cogless! Probably still weighs more than some of them! He runs his hands over the smooth, tempered metal, awed by its quality and sheer size.

"You wear this all the time?" He asks, starstruck.

"Indeed. I never take it off, in fact." this was a special occasion, though.

"I… we thought this was your face," Megatron admits, nearly sheepish. He reaches up to touch his chassis, where the likeness of the god's mask is still etched painfully into the metal there, thanks to Sentinel. He steals a glance up at Megatronus, unable to quite believe what he's seeing. "Everything in the datafiles and history stuff, you're always wearing it. We- We thought you didn't have a mouth!"

Megatronus smiles at him, amused, and for the first time in days Megatron manages to smile, too.

"…can I really, uh…?"

The god of war snaps his fingers and the mask shrinks obediently, til it's just the right size. "Go ahead, youngling."

He exhales nervously and slips it on, fumbling unsurely with the clasps. It smells like sulfur and high quality energon, and something about it makes his whole body prickle.

After he's got it on, he looks up at Megatronus shyly, fidgeting. The world looks different from in here: his peripheral vision is cut off, and everything is framed with the shape of the optical slits. "Well…?" He wrings his servos nervously. "How do I look…?"

"…heh," Megatronus lays one servo on his helm, jostling him gently. "Like a little champion of war." He may be called Megatron now but he's still a child at spark, right now. He's painfully young, and Megatronus Prime is worried for him.

When Megatron wishes he had a mirror so he could see what he looks like with the mask on, and Megatronus is all too glad to grant that wish. It's good to see him less emotionally devastated, but soon after the little silver mechling settles back against his side. "I don't… wanna go to war," he admits forlornly, hugging his knees. "I… I wanna go home. I don't want a war."

"That means you're smart," Megatronus tells him seriously, which earns him a confused look. "I preside over war and reap power from it, but only a fool hopes for war. War incurs heavy loss no matter who you are, and those who actively seek it seek their own destruction in turn. Tis my duty to govern that domain and stand as a guardian over those who must do battle." The Patron Deity of Warriors, Megatron recalls easily. The Guardian Prime of all who take up arms.

If the god of war himself encourages not to seek his domain, it's probably best to listen, no? He sags helplessly against the divine mech's side, feeling helpless.

"You said you want to go home?" Megatronus asks, and Megatron nods wordlessly. "Then… perhaps you should."

"I can't! Orion said- he's a Prime now, and he doesn't want me there, and- and I said I'd never trust another leader again-"

"You trust me, don't you?"

It's plain to see how much the kid idolizes him, and trusts him enough to, at the very least, cry his spark out and air his grievances. That certainly speaks of trust.

"Well- yes but, that's different!" Megatronus Prime isn't just some leader, he's one of the 13! One of the gods! Trusting him is different than trusting some uppity mortal that thinks they're better than everyone else and is willing to suck their lives away for their own benefit! Megatronus Prime isn't like that-

"Do you think your friend Orion is like that?"

"No!" The reflexive leap to defend his friend comes before he can really process it. "No of course not, he's-"

Megatron covers his mouth. Oh. Slag.

"Perhaps," the Prime reaches down and gently removes his mask from Megatron's face, gently lifting his chin with one finger. "A better vow would be to no longer place blind trust in those who lead. Don't deny yourself faith or hope, little one. Both are important in order for you or anyone to have a future."

A future. Right. He sighs, shoulders falling to their lowest point and averting his optics. What future? He's stranded on the treacherous surface with a bunch of bloodthirsty strangers, and if he shows even an ounce of weakness that screechy seeker is going to be jumping for his throat. If not him, then one of the others, surely. He couldn't have any sort of comfortable or trustworthy future with people like that surrounding him. Every friend he's ever had, all of his batchmates, his siblings, his family, they're all back in Iacon. The mecha in the high guard hold no love for him, nor do the ones he's left behind. None of them ever will again. Even Orion, his... his everything, even he surely hates him now.

"Do you truly believe that, little one?"

"Yes! Wouldn't you?! I- I killed him!" Accidentally, and because Orion threw himself in front of his weapon, but still. "Sentinel Prime killed you, don't you hate him?" internally, Dee hates himself for hurting Orion. Surely Orion must hate him as much as he hates him, right?

"Sentinel," Megatronus spits the name in a vengeful rasp. "Murdered me in cold blood, as he did several of my siblings. We're still deciding what to do with him. Orion Pax threw himself in front of your weapon and was caught in the crossfire. You did not seek to murder him, nor did you seek to harm him. Twas an accident, nothing more, and not deserving of hatred. Not the hatred you hold for yourself, nor the hatred you presume he holds for you."

"But..." Megatron shrinks in his shadow, tears beading along the bottom lid of his optics. "But..."

"Hush," the Prime's command is firm but still very gentle. "You want to go home. You don't wish for war. Then I ask you, little one: what must you do to achieve those goals?"

#transformers one #fix it fic #megatron #megatronus prime #tbh obsessed with awkward-but-wise dad Megatronus #the proud and powerful god of war. wielder of divine shields and guardian of the pantheon.#watching this miserable child be consumed by the Spirit of War and realizing he's gotta step in #and in the morning? megatrons gonna get a phone call from his boyfriend and everything will be FINE

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melminli · 10 months ago

Text

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

#x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coryo snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus #snow #snow lands on top #x female y/n #x female reader

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

(happy happy happy happy happy birth-dae to @strawberryspence ilysm my Wendy’s frosty and chicken tenders friend. I hope you enjoy 💛🍓)

Steve was having one of those days. Then again, he seemed to have a lot of those after two run-ins with an evil alternate dimension combined with the aftermath of his "bullshit" relationship with Nancy. Luckily his parents weren't home to add to the general mood of things, but that just left him with a too big, empty house.

As soon as he got inside, he turned around and went back to his car. He knew where to go.

The drive was on the longer side, but Steve didn't mind. He felt like he could finally breathe when he saw the Leaving Hawkins sign. A few miles later, he pulled into one of the spaces beside a small diner.

He walked in and waved to Linda who smiled sweetly at him. He remembered a few years ago when he had first met her after taking his dad's keys and driving far away from his parents. Linda had given him a free meal and lingered around, letting him rant and not judging him for the things he said about his asshole parents and friends. She had simply listened and told him that he reminded her of her son when he was younger.

When Steve eventually left, Linda had told him that he could stop by anytime, and she would likely be there. She also hinted that maybe he should take a bus next time because he looked a little too young to drive. Steve had blushed and ducked his head at the comment, but Linda had just laughed and told him things would get better.

And it seemed like every time Steve came back, things would eventually get better.

But he can't help but feel a little jilted when he notices that his corner booth which is always available is suddenly not. He can't see whoever is sitting there as they face away from the door. Their shoulder-length curly hair sticks out to him, but he wonders if that has to do with Nancy.

He knows he should just find another booth or table or even sit at the bar, but Steve can't help but wonder who is sitting at his table. So, he approaches them slowly, noticing how they're bent over some book or something scribbling away only with a pink-tinted milkshake on the table.

He clears his throat when he gets closer, and the person looks up with big, brown eyes curious at first before becoming closed off.

"Munson," Steve says, not sure what emotion he's feeling because he was the last person he imagined to be here.

"Harrington," Eddie replies, sounding a bit irritated.

Steve frowns. "Why are you sitting at my table?"

Eddie looks around before saying, "Funny, I didn't see a sign."

"You know what I mean."

Eddie closes the notebook in front of him before he leans back and crosses his arms. "Do I?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair and rests his hands on his hips. "I sit here every time I come here."

The corner of Eddie's mouth quirks up into a small smirk. "Thanks for explaining, but I'm not moving for you, Your Highness." He tilts his head down in a mock bow that irks Steve.

"Thankfully, you’re not sitting in my side of the booth," Steve says as he slides into the bench on the opposite side of Eddie.

Eddie looks at him blankly for a few seconds and takes a sip of his milkshake. He swallows and says, "Just don't dump this on me, okay?"

"Why would I do that?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Why would King Steve humiliate The Freak? What a great question."

Steve frowns. "I haven't done anything to you before."

"And nothing is stopping you now."

Steve snorts. "It sounds like you almost want me to. Which I won't by the way. If that was seriously something you were worried about."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him as if expecting something as he clutches his notebook a little tighter.

Steve gestures toward it. "What that?"

Eddie frowns and looks down at the book. "You wouldn't care."

"Try me."

Once again, Eddie stares at him. This time Linda interrupts as she slides a burger with fries in front of Steve. "Everything okay here?"

Eddie and Steve both nod, but Linda raises her eyebrows at Steve as if saying behave.

Steve takes the message and kindly pushes the plate a little toward Eddie saying, "You can take a fry if you want."

Eddie stares at the plate and considers it.

"I promise in the time Linda brought it to me and I pushed it to you, I didn't poison it." Eddie still doesn't take a fry, so Steve reaches over, grabs one, and takes a bite. "See?"

Eddie looks at him and says, "Can never be too sure." But he takes a fry and dips it in his milkshake before taking a bite.

Steve's eyebrows furrow.

Eddie does the same thing with the other half of his fry and asks, "What?"

Steve grabs another fry. "What flavor milkshake is that?"

"Strawberry."

Steve frowns again as Eddie sighs. "I get a fry in a vanilla milkshake maybe, but strawberry?"

"Don't knock it before you try it," Eddie says pushing the glass toward him.

Steve stares at it tentatively.

"Unless you're afraid of double dipping after a freak."

With that comment, Steve looks Eddie in the eye, dips a fry into the shake, and bites into it. And it's not... unpleasant. He even takes the other half and tries more. "It's not bad. But I'm still confused about the choice of a strawberry milkshake."

It seems to be the wrong thing to say as Eddie retreats back into his shell a bit.

"I'm just more of a vanilla or chocolate guy," Steve tries to clear the air.

Eddie glances up and shrugs. "I used to get one here with my mom."

"Not anymore?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Considering that she's six feet under, no"

Steve's heart jumps at the response. He doesn't really know what to do other than reach over and rest a hand over where Eddie's rests. "I'm sorry."

Eddie glances down at their hands and shrugs. "Happened a long time ago. There's no need for all that."

Steve squeezes his hand one more time before pulling back. "Still sucks," he comments before biting into his burger.

"It is what it is." Eddie looks away and shakes his head before stating, "So, you've obviously been here often. When did that start?"

Steve finishes his bite and shrugs. "A few years ago. I tried to run - or rather drive - away from home. But I ended up here. I've been back whenever I need a break and to know that things will get better."

"How are things looking right now?"

"Better," Steve says with a small smile. He pushes his plate toward Eddie again. He takes the hint and grabs another fry.

"You know, chicken tenders taste pretty good with the milkshake too."

Steve laughs. "I'll have to take your word for it."

Eddie smiles, revealing his dimples, and Steve can't drag his eyes away.

Steve finishes his burger as Eddie makes a dent in his fries - not that he minds. The silence between them is nice, comfortable even. Steve's not sure the last time he's had a moment like this with someone.

Eddie glances up at him and hesitantly asks, "Did you really want to know what the notebook's for?"

Steve nods and leans across the table to get a better look as Eddie opens it up, explaining his D&D plans and showing off his drawings. As he flips the page and reveals a drawing of the Demogorgan, Steve slips out of the booth and sits next to Eddie, getting a closer look. "That's not what I expected it to look like."

Eddie looks at him. "You know what the Demogorgan is?"

"I kind of babysit these kids who play Dungeons and Dragons, so yeah. I know of it," Steve somewhat lies.

Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief, and Steve finally realizes how close they are. He finds that he doesn't mind the small distance between them, and he especially doesn't mind the way Eddie's cheeks get a little pink before he turns away to flip through more pages.

And as much as Steve is impressed by all the effort and obvious talent that went into his notebook, he can't help but get a little distracted by Eddie himself.

He doesn't leave his side of the booth, opting to keep the close proximity, knees knocking into each other and fingers brushing as they reach for the plate of fries.

Steve doesn't want to leave his little booth, and he doesn't think he wants to come back later if Eddie won't be there.

But as it starts to get darker outside, Eddie glances at his watch and curses, "Shit, I need to get home before my uncle leaves for work."

"You can leave now, I'll pay for your shake."

Eddie looks at him, and sighs, "Thank you." He squeezes Steve's hand before they both scoot out of the booth.

They both have a moment where they linger and stare at each other, unsure of what happens next. They both know the dumb social hierarchy at their school and even with Steve's fallen status, Eddie's friends would never accept him. So maybe this is it.

"I'll see you around," Steve says, laying a hand on Eddie's arm and squeezing, lingering a little longer than he should.

"I'll see you around," Eddie echoes, hesitating for a moment before leaving.

Steve lets out a deep breath as he sees him walk out the door. Things will be better. They have to be.

-:-:-:-:-:-

This is definitely not the way Steve thought Eddie would be reintroduced into his life, and more than anything, he wishes Eddie wasn't involved in this. He just wants to go back to the sanctuary that is Linda's Diner. And he wants her to tell him that everything will be better.

Instead, he instructs Dustin to grab Eddie a strawberry milk from the store, and later grumbles without being able to explain why when Dustin comes back with a Yoohoo.

"Who the hell drinks strawberry milk? Chocolate milk is the obvious choice," Dustin defends.

Steve's heart tugs a little when he remembers having nearly an identical conversation.

-:-:-:-:-:-

(Ending 1)

Steve wipes at his tears as he drives away from Hawkins, getting stuck in the traffic almost immediately as everyone tries to get away from the cursed town.

He can’t do this right now. He doesn’t want to be given time to think about Eddie.

He pulls over to the shoulder and speeds along, ignoring all the car horns going off as he passes. He just needs to get to the diner.

A few miles later, he quickly turns into a space next to the small building and gets out quickly, rushing inside to his little sanctuary.

But as he stares at his table, he only gets memories of Eddie sitting across from him and next to him. And he feels like he can’t breathe here anymore.

But he still sits down in the booth, taking Eddie’s side instead, facing away from anyone who might enter.

He can’t be gone.

He sits in silence, staring at the place where Eddie’s notebook used to lay, where they shared a plate of fries, where Eddie’s strawberry milkshake used to sit.

A plate is slid in front of him, and Linda appears quietly at his side, knowing that he doesn’t want to talk about it. But when she slides a singular strawberry milkshake in front of him, he finally breaks down.

Maybe the town of Hawkins wasn’t just cursed. Maybe strawberry milkshakes were too.

-:-:-:-:-:-

(Ending 2. Aka an apology for ending 1)

Steve can’t sit still in the waiting room of the hospital. He has too much that was left unsaid. Too much at stake. But the doctors say it’s touch and go. And he has to wait.

Steve finally sees Eddie’s uncle, someone who was mentioned to him forever ago but has appeared sporadically in Steve’s thoughts. He wondered where Eddie’s dad was. Why he lived with his uncle. If his uncle was kind to him. If his uncle was on his dad’s or mom’s side. How he took the news when Eddie’s mom died. When he took Eddie in.

There were so many questions that were left unanswered because Steve was a coward. God, he wishes he would’ve seen that there were bigger, more important things than the school hierarchy. But even when he was fallen, there was a reputation he needed to somewhat uphold.

Steve doesn’t know how much longer he can take the waiting and thinking. He just needs a break from it all. He needs… Linda’s Diner.

He jostles Dustin awake and lets him know that he’ll be back in a while. Dustin just kind of gives him a look before shrugging and mumbling, “Okay.”

Robin grabs his hand, asking if he needs her to go with him. But he shakes his head and lets her know he’d rather her stay here and update him when he comes back.

He leaves the hospital quickly, racing to his car and speeding down the roads to the small dinner. He can’t help it. He needs to know that everything with get better as soon as he can.

When he gets there he takes a moment before going inside, looking away from his booth when all he can recall are the memories of Eddie. Instead, he heads to the bar and asks Linda for a strawberry milkshake to go.

After she puts in the order, she walks up to Steve and lays a hand over his. “Is he okay?” She asks gently.

Steve should’ve known that she’s seen the news, but he’s relieved to find that she knows Eddie isn’t guilty. That he would never be capable of the horrible things he’s been accused of.

“He’s touch and go right now,” Steve admits, trying not to let his bottom lip quiver too much.

Linda squeezes his hand and says, “It’ll all be better soon. I just know it.”

Steve smiles at her and whispers, “Thank you.”

Moments later, she hands him the milkshake, and Steve leaves soon after. He needs to get back as quickly as he can.

He drives faster than when he left, almost regretting his little pit stop when he feels like he needs to be there. He races up to the waiting room and finds that Dustin and Eddie’s uncle are gone. Steve’s stomach drops as he looks at Robin. “Is he?”

Robin hugs him with tears in her eyes and whispers, “He’s awake. And he’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

Steve sighs in relief and feels a few tears spill out of his eyes. He ducks his head into Robin’s neck and tries to hide his reaction from anyone else.

“Steve.”

Steve takes a deep breath and looks toward the doorway where Dustin is standing. “He wants to see you.”

Steve smiles and squeezes Robin’s arm before practically dragging a confused Dustin down the hall while asking where his room is.

Dustin leads him to it and says, “I don’t understand why-”

“Later, okay?” Steve asks, cutting him off. “I promise. I’ll tell you later.”

Dustin nods and for once he lets Steve go easily. “Okay.”

Steve jostles his hair around before slowly going into the room. He nearly gasps at the sight of Eddie so pale and almost lifeless, but when he sees his chest move slowly up and down, he’s flooded with relief.

“Eddie…” Steve says, practically running up to the bed and placing a gentle hand over his.

Eddie weakly smiles at him before glancing down at his hand. “What’s that?” He asks quietly.

“A strawberry milkshake from Linda.”

Eddie smiles a little wider. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. How could I forget?” Steve sets it down on a little table next to his bed and finally confesses, “Eddie, I wish things would’ve been different between us because out of all the things I got from Linda’s diner, you were the best. And I’m so glad you stole my booth because I needed you that day. And I need you now and-”

“Steve?” Eddie says softly.

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s eyes move toward the foot of his bed.

Steve glances over and jumps when he sees Eddie’s uncle watching him with a small smile. “Go ahead, I’m enjoying this.”

“Wayne,” Eddie tries to groan but it ends up coming out way too soft.

Steve just laughs and grabs Eddie’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is that after your name is cleared and you’ve healed and they determine that neither of us have demobat rabies, would you want to go on a date with me at Linda’s diner?”

Eddie smiles and squeezes his hand. “Absolutely.”

“Thank god,” Wayne mutters from his seat.

As Steve laughs and Eddie tries to glare at his uncle, he can’t help but believe that everything will truly get better.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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genderfluid-insomniac · 5 months ago

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I have just been going through all of you x reader stuff, and it's amazing! I'm not sure if requests are open or not. (If they're not, you may ignore me), but I was wondering how Macaque would be if his partner was pregnant, specifically with a little baby girl during and after the pregnancy?

I love this idea so much and I may have gotten a bit carried away and I didn't expect this post to be this long lol

Macaque x pregnant!reader

Macaque during the pregnancy:

If you thought he was protective before then get ready for being watched/”guarded” all the time and he’s not going to hide being protective if anything he’s going to be obvious that if anyone dares mess or threatens to hurt you then it’s over for them. He’ll tone it down a tad if you ask him to but he’s not taking any risks since he doesn’t want to lose you in any way nor his child.

He’s patient when you’re dealing with the pregnancy and all its symptoms however every time you get morning sickness his anxiety flares up, worrying about your health and your cubs’. He’s never been happier for his six ears and how sensitive they are because he can hear his cub's heartbeat and every sound they make.

There’s no lying he is going to be a bit judgy when you ask and eat your strange food combinations or cravings but he’ll humor you regardless. Depending on what they are he might try some of them with you and others he will draw a hard no at.

Both of you didn’t want the gender to be revealed at all via the ultrasound or the whispers of the future Macaque hears so you both are very excited to meet your child when they come into the world and grow up with two hopeful loving parents. The later in your pregnancy the more you start to show and the more he is obviously lovestruck but doesn’t seem to care.

At night when you’re resting on the bed or couch your husband will have his head resting on your tummy, smiling softly whenever he feels the baby kick, and use his abilities to perform stories on the walls in front of you. You’re never left feeling helpless or forgotten since he’s so doting on you more than before however don’t think that doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook for his teasing and flirts.

The larger your belly gets and the harder regular chores get the more he’s going to insist and make sure you’re off your feet, helping you to feel comfortable and less stressed. Macaque will let you keep doing regular things if you insist on doing them but the moment you wince or feel discomfort he’s sweeping you off your feet again literally.

Once the day gets here and your water breaks he’s panicking and not hiding it that well since with help from Sandy and the gang had told him the full dos and don’ts of pregnancy. He knows you’re in good hands but seeing you yell in pain and hearing you cry as you’re feeling contractions breaks his heart.

He doesn’t risk using his shadow portals in case it hurts his cub and you and rushes you to the hospital, not taking no for an answer when he’s asked if he’s sure he wants to come in or asks you if you want him in. There isn’t ever a time when he’s not by your side and holding your hand, letting you squeeze it as much as you want, and soothing you with comforting words.

When the time finally happens you’re screaming and gripping his hand like you’re hanging off a cliff for dear life, both apologizing for making his ears hurt and pleading for it to be over. He was frankly a bit disturbed that you apologized for hurting him via your screaming but held you as close as he could until you both heard the cry of your new cub.

Macaque after the pregnancy:

The moment you both heard your child cry everything else no longer mattered and you opened your arms to signal you wanted to hold your child, cradling their sweet baby girl in your arms and crying out of joy. You looked up at Macaque with tears streaming down your face and sobbing happily when you saw the same expression mirror on his face, resting your foreheads against one another and kissing him gently.

His cub had your hair color fur and four lotus-shaped ears like his that twitched and flicked about when you both traced over them with your fingers. Her fists curled up and she rubbed her eyes that slowly opened to show your eye color reflected with gold flecks scattered around the iris.

Macaque couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling that his cub had his ears which you constantly called precious but also worried considering all the hate he got from others for his “freaky” ears. You must’ve seen his conflicted expression because you kissed his cheek and then your cubs who was swaddled in a comfy blanket.

When you moved for him to hold your baby he tensed up at first not wanting to possibly hurt his baby girl in any way but all his worries melted when she looked up at him and wrapped his tail around hers. He made a promise to himself that he’d protect his daughter and lover no matter what.

The days after you gave birth were hard and Macaque was there for all of it, helping you out whenever you could and getting you actual food since both of you agreed the hospital food was disgusting. Your baby was pretty well-behaved and was mostly quiet thanks to a sound-dampening spell your lover placed on her ears, handing her off to one another and to the nurses when they needed to check on her.

When you were finally let out of the hospital he still didn’t use his portal out of concern for his baby and you, calling Sandy to help you both back home with your wheelchair and gratefully accepting the baby gifts he gave you both. While you were still in the hospital Macaque sent a couple of clones back to your apartment to baby-proof everything and also install a lock on the door of his dojo.

The following weeks weren’t pretty since parenting is never easy and you both share the burden of the sleepless nights which doesn’t happen that much since it turns out that your baby was an easy cub just very clingy. Macaque had mixed feelings about that since he liked having you all to himself but now had to share you with his daughter, who he loved more than anything but was also getting used to sharing you.

Macaque was protective during the pregnancy and still remains so as Yingyue grows up, deciding to name their baby girl after how she was just as beautiful as the moon and just as calm and soothing. Every time a picture of the sky was in her view she babbled out excited noises and often would put on special shadow plays for his precious daughter.

He watches everyone like a hawk when the gang meets his daughter specifically Wukong for reasons. Already in advance, he put a sound-dampening spell on her sensitive ears knowing MK and Mei wouldn’t be able to not scream or at least MK would remember after a second or so. They all adored his cub even Wukong who wished him congratulations as Macaque just stared lovingly at his little girl.

#lmk x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque

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menlove · 4 months ago

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one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

#this got so long I just have a lot of feelings about paul if. you couldn't tell.#this is all PURE speculation btw. it's just the way I feel it would go if. he were closeted and they were fucking #a if you give a mouse a cookie type ramble #mclennon

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