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xtrablak674 · 1 year ago

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Meet Trevor Brown

[Video review of an interview I did back in ninety ninety-four]

What can I say about this particular video? I do have mixed feelings about it. It was shot sometime between '94 and '95 when I was living in my first apartment in Williamsburg Brooklyn. I have to admit I haven't even pressed play yet, because as much as I enjoy seeing images of my first adult abode my behavior feels a bit cringe. This was a time I felt a need to perform and not just be, my energy was very restless and exasperating.

I can recall that I think a young woman wanted to shoot me for a class project or something, I must have met her through one of my friends at the time. Beyond that I can't really recollect any other context of why I was being interviewed. My personal belief is you never turn down an opportunity to be in front of a camera or in print.

Still haven't started the video, I am totally delaying. Suspending the feelings I know I will have when I start the tape. #😬 Lets comment on the screenshot and what I can see. To the left is my music collection, I can see a lot of cassette tapes which means this has to be sometimes after '93 because I inherited my father's jazz collection on tape and vinyl.

Above the cassettes I can see my collection of CDs that only had another four years of existence before being burned up in the fire in my next and current apartment in '98. On the right I can see the Madonna poster I bought in college that followed me to Brooklyn. Below it looks like one of the Camel cigarette posters from the subway which I was notorious for taking before the MTA changed how they displayed the posters.

I am wearing a red kerchief, a grey sweatshirt that may say Ithaca College (okay it doesn't, I did say 'may') on it and overalls? I have to say not the most glamorous of looks, but comfortable. And it seems I am crocheting, more than likely a scarf, because those were the easiest and quickest things to knit.

Finally let's press play. Now I am being playful and coy, avoiding the question and not telling my age, which I still don't do. I am young and beautiful albeit I am sure I didn't feel beautiful at the time.

It was a curious choice the director/editor of this film chose a graffiti type as the title card. Nothing about me is urban, hood or street. And albeit this time in the nineties is the sweet spot of hip hop I am not and nor have ever been highly influenced in my personal style by rap music. I wouldn't say the choice is offensive, but not well thought out. Just because I am Black doesn't automatically mean that I should be represented by street culture.

'My mama's womb', has been my response to where I am from for decades, its a way to defuse the obvious questions of heritage. Even at this time my presentation of Blackness was confounding for the whytes. I am not saying that this director had that particular position, but asking a Black person where they are from especially if this conversation is happening in America is a very loaded question and may bring up all kind of baggage and unresolved feelings. #ijs

That laugh, still kills me. #🤣 She clearly didn't like my deflecting humor and asked a follow up about where I was from, which I didn't feel was relevant so didn't answer. This was the thing about me, folks would underestimate me in interviews like I didn't have my own agenda no matter how candy-coated I appeared.

Maybe this is what she was curious about the young gay Black man. Let's see how this progresses. I drop my voice a few octaves as I talk about being gay in a very humorous way but also acknowledging that I am also Black, less we forget. I can tell you this definitively I was being interviewed by a straight cis whyte woman.

Then we cut to a wider shot with a clear costume change, I am now rocking that ratty shake and go wig with two red ties forming very dry pig tails. #SuchACheapWig A red and white horizontally stripped shirt, this meshy black dress and an artificial sun flower in my hands.

We can now see the red and purple theme I had for this room especially with my purple IKEA curtains. To my left my fathers old stereo which also perished in the fire in '98. In addition to all the music on the walls I notice that just like my current apartment there isn't much bare wall space albeit now, its not found objects but actual framed artwork. I have covered up just about every piece of white space with something colorful. I think we are about to get a show.

Wow there's a voice-over going on that is really low and hard to hear, I am going to see if jacking into my stereo pushes up the volume. I seem to be talking a bit more about being gay in the nineties. This was clearly a technical difficulty, she didn't get good audio and still decided to use it.

In the background I can see Poopsie my late cat on the window sill, she would be with me two more years before my aunt forced me to reduce the number of cats she would care for in my absence as I traveled Europe for work on a tour. Poopsie would be left in a field near residential houses right outside of Co-op city. I would be devastated for months having to part with one of my two cats this way.

Then there is an abrupt cut to RuPaul's classic "You Bettah Work (Supermodel of the World)", back when I still really adored Ru before she became too problematic for me to continue to mess with. I can see I didn't try to do any huge make-up but I do have on some red lipstick, the least I could do for this fast-drag look.

Cut-to the dry shake and go blonde wig and me in the hallway of my apartment, our interview has turned into a video shoot! I have on the same dress but now a short cut military jacket, that I was just dreaming about last night. There's the old beaded curtain behind me that is represented in my new apartment by a smaller version from the beads that survived the fire.

Back to the bedroom, the sweatshirt says 'Tompkins Cortland', I have no idea what that is. I have stuffed both my cats beneath this large sweatshirt and they are struggling to get out. The cats are even funny to the director, when I joke this is what happens when you don't wear a bra. Hmmm is that misogynistic, I don't think so. I think its common knowledge that if you don't bind your breast they may start to sag especially after having kids. I am open to the fact check here. I will admit that I have never had titties and don't know the true way of breast!

Anastasia who was the cat that was with me the longest peeks her face out of my sweatshirt being coaxed out with the string I dangling in front of her. Clearly the director likes this moment because we are on this scene for over a minute. Ana has been dead I think over a decade, I miss her. I had her for about fifteen years quite old for a cat, she was very affectionate and attentive.

There is a framed portrait of my late friend Tim Fischetti and me, I can see in the background as I search for the GMHC Young, Hot & Safe poster that me and him both helped to develop and starred in. Curiously its also purple like the theme of my room. Then the director shifts to the controversy around the campaign and the posters. I think the New York Post had something derogative to say about it. I mean this was the mid-nineties we weren't where we are with gay rights as we are now. Albeit it feels like sometimes we're moving backwards.

She asked me a question about how I feel about the poster and at first I deflect with humor than come back to an answer that was in line with my HIV/AIDS educator background at the time. We then do another cut and I have changed the scarf on my head to a more mammy-like tying straight out of Gone With the Wind. I do a brief mammy skit obviously the conversation had turned to Aunt Jemima or the representation of Black folks in media or I had directed it there wanting to educate this young whyte female.

I also got a glimpse of the cock-ring Ken doll I had back in the day. I can't say I knew what happened to him. Then I perform the Paul Laurence-Dunbar poem In the Morning. Which I had first learned in church while performing it with my Aunt Mary. I also at the last minute decided to switch my monologue for my audition at Performing Arts (née LaGuardia) to the Laurence-Dunbar poem which I think cemented my spot at the specialized high school.

As I perform the poem I can hear that I have some Björk playing in the background. I love my somewhat eclectic taste in music and for me these add elements to who I am because these were my choices not the directors and in that way they say something specific about me. She likes the poem, she stays on it with me for a minute, with I have to say some mediocre camera work on the zooms and close-ups.

Then there is a pause and we get outtakes or unused footage in the final piece or maybe that was just a really bad transition. I am not sure I even knew these were here. There's a David Dinkin pride poster on the wall behind me. Go on Mayor Dinkins! Oh this looks like the full RuPaul video! Well my version of the video...

This is so trashy I love it! We now cut to a close up of those black boots I used to own, I wonder what happened to them, I loved those boots! And I have my black leg warmers on which I have had since I attended class at Dance Theatre of Harlem. The floor is covered, I am not sure why, I never painted in that apartment, but maybe I was doing some kind of work.

Wait now I can see, it was the other bedroom! The one Henry used to occupy, this must be right before Angel moved in. Maybe she had it painted, painting wasn't ever really my thing. The windows are covered and everything. I have on a black petticoat as a dress and my favorite thrift store acquired flannel shirt tied in a knot with the fake flower in my bosom, pretending to paint the wall as the music plays using the paint roller as a microphone.

That shake and go wig! Now I am in my closet pretending to look for something to wear with a black boa around my neck. I gave this bish production values! #CostumeChange

Now I am cleaning the toilet! on my knees in the robe Steve my college boyfriend gave me, with the shake and go back in a pony tail! Four rooms and four different looks! #YesBitch Then to end the video I collapse in the tub wearing those black three inch suede pumps that Tim got for me.

This is what I have to say in closing. I am not sure what this young woman's project or assignment was I can tell she was a novice, but I can also tell you this I was highly entertaining! And a bish was giving body! I did four different looks on this low-budget drag and that dreadful knotted up hayseed wig. But the thing is, I looked like I was having a good time and I sold that good time to the viewer. Bitch, you bettah WORK!

[Video by Brown Estate]

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whoworewhatjewels · 1 year ago

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Who Wore What Jewels Weekly

We are rounding up the best jewels of the week. From Jennifer Lopez’s astrological-themed charm necklace to Saweetie’s vintage choker and Sofia Vergara’s 700-carat Kunzite necklace she wore on America’s Got Talent. Scroll down to see who wore what jewels and vote on your favorite! Enjoy! WHO: Jennifer Lopez WHERE: On her Instagram WHAT JEWELS: 20” Heavy Textured Circle Link Chain with the Raw…

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spill-to-t · 1 year ago

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A weird fact about the body is your ears never stop growing. Which I need them to stop because my nickname was Dumbo as a child

Reason number 1 why kids never listen 🫲🏼🫱🏼

Isn’t it the same with the nose?

#don’t worry about your ears and noses… unless you wanna look like Madonna when you’re older ‘-‘

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cosmicdahlias · 10 days ago

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I Like Hearing You Talk

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

You’ve pined for Logan since the day he came into your life. He makes you so flustered you can barely speak around him. After Wade interrupts your drunken moment together, you’re left feeling incredibly pent up and in desperate need of release.

tags: caught mid-masturbation, oral, face sitting, multiple orgasms, p in v, big dick hurts, rough sex, choking, creampie

y’all i got nothing to say this time, i’m just down bad for logan 😭

Living with Logan Howlett had proved to be… frustrating. For most this would be due to his incredibly abrasive personality, however for you it was for an entirely different reason.

You found him PAINFULLY attractive. He was rough around the edges, blunt, quick tempered, and would maul anyone with his foot long claws if they dared look at him wrong. All of these things should have scared you off, but it only made him more alluring.

Ever since your other roommate, Wade, had introduced him to you, it had been so hard to not feel that primal need deep within your core. You struggled to even form sentences when he talked to you. He didn’t just give you butterflies, he gave you the whole damn garden. So when he invited you to sit on the couch with him and share a few drinks you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust.

An hour had passed and even though the help of a little liquid courage made it significantly easier to talk to him, you were still very much flustered. You had been telling the story of how you and Wade met back in the days when he was still a merc-for-hire.

“But yeah, essentially I hired him to rough up my abuser, make him finally pay for all the shit he did to me.”

“What’d he do to the fucker?”

“Honestly what DIDN’T he do? He beat him so bad that from what I heard he could barely even crawl. Wade gave me one of his teeth, said it was ‘a souvenir of a job well done’.”

“Well was it? A job well done?”

“I mean he never bothered me again.”

“Good, but if he ever does decide to be enough of a dumbass to come near you just let me know and I’ll take care of it. Can’t guarantee he’ll still be breathing after I’m done with him though.”

“That might be going too easy on him.” You joked.

Logan chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“You know it’s funny, this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” He said.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I like hearing you talk.”

“Y- you do?” You stammered, your cheeks turning a dusty pink.

Logan tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I really do.”

You felt your heart thump rapidly in your chest. Everything within you was screaming for you to kiss him, but your whole body felt like concrete, immobile. Logan took your cheek in his hand, coming in so close that his lips almost brushed against yours.

“Do I have to make the first move, babygi-“

Wade burst into the room and the two of you jumped back from each other.

“GUYS! YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE WHO JUST GOT FRONT ROW TICKETS TO MADONNA! I MIGHT’VE HAD TO SELL A KIDNEY, BUT THIS HANDSOME MOTHERFUCKER REGENERATES SO I BASICALLY GOT THEM FOR FREE!” He shouted, sitting next to you on the couch.

The rest of the night was spent with Wade completely, and unknowingly, third wheeling you two and killing all possible sexual tension.

The next day your mind ruminated heavily on the night before, you had been so close to finally having his lips on yours. You played out in your head how differently things could’ve gone had Wade not interrupted. Images of Logan taking you, claiming you from every position consumed your thoughts. By the time you came home from work the overwhelming need to touch yourself was too much to ignore.

You quickly said “hi” to Logan and stole yourself to your room, undressing and lying back on the bed. You wasted no time letting your fingers move straight to your clit, your other hand caressing one of your breasts.

You closed your eyes and moaned softly, imagining Logan’s strong hands in place of yours. You allowed your mind to echo his voice uttering words of praise, telling you all the things you desperately wanted to hear from him.

“Mmmnn, Logan.” You whimpered as you felt yourself grow close.

At that very same moment your door swung open.

“Hey, you alright? I thought I heard- oh shit.” Logan said.

You jumped nearly a foot out of your skin and your eyes snapped open to the sight of him in the doorway. You quickly pulled the covers over yourself.

“FUCK! WAIT! I WASN’T- I- hold on, could you hear me?”

“Did you forget how thin the walls are?”

“Motherfucker.” You groaned.

Logan closed the door behind him and walked over to stand at your bedside.

“Now, my turn to ask a question with an obvious answer. Who were you thinking about?” He asked.

You felt your heart do a somersault.

“You really want me to say it?”

He cupped your chin, stroking your lips with his thumb.

“Yeah, I do.” He said softly, pulling down the covers to reveal your body.

His eyes looked you up and down with the intensity and hunger of a wild animal.

“You, Logan.” You said softly.

“Yeah? Then is this little pussy all wet because of me?” He asked, slipping a hand between your legs.

You nodded.

“Thought so.”

He dragged the pads of his fingertips along your wetness.

“Now, why don’t you finish giving me that little show I walked in on?” Logan instructed, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

You turned deep scarlet.

“Logan, I-“

“C’mon babygirl, you were so close.” He coaxed, taking your hand and guiding it down. “Are you gonna be good girl and cum for me?”

You drew circles against your clit and with a shudder felt the pleasure return to you. Logan watched you intently.

“Fuck, I can’t hold myself back, not with you looking like this. I need your mouth around my cock.”

Logan unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling out his intimidatingly massive cock. Your jaw dropped at the sheer size of him.

“Holy shit, Logan.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, my jaw might not be.”

Logan turned your head to face his throbbing cock.

“It’s alright, only take what you can handle.”

You went to take him past your lips when he stopped you.

“Wait, one second.”

He reached over you, turning your stuffed animal on the bed to face the wall.

“Logan Howlett, what a gentleman.” You laughed.

“Hey, I’m just protecting their innocence. Now c’mon, keep touching yourself and open that pretty little mouth for me.” He said.

Logan guided himself into your mouth and you took him down to the base of his shaft.

“Fuuuuck babygirl, no one’s ever gone all the way down before.” He groaned, tangling his fingers in your hair.

He bucked his hips against your face as you stroked your clit.

“How the fuck are you not choking on me? You ever sucked cock this big before?”

You shook your head with him still in your mouth, Logan chuckled.

“No? Guess you just got lucky to not have a gag reflex. God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered around him at his words, growing close.

“That’s it, keep going for me babygirl, yeah, yeah like that. Make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth.” He said as he throbbed against your tongue.

Your back arched off of the mattress as you felt yourself tip over the edge. Your moans were muffled by Logan’s cock buried deep in your throat.

“Jesus, you moaning like that feels too goddam good.” He grunted, giving one last thrust into your mouth before pulling out.

He watched as your orgasm subsided, the heaving of your chest slowly steadying. He lowered his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers inside you and curling them against just the right spot to make you writhe underneath him. He pulled out his fingers, taking them in his mouth and giving a growl.

“I can’t fuckin’ resist, I need you to sit on my face. Just tasting you isn’t enough.”

He moved onto the bed and picked you up, lowering you to straddle his face. His hot breath lingered on you for a second before his mouth made contact with your clit. Having cum already, it wouldn’t take long for him to get you there again. You laced your fingers in his dark hair.

“Oh god, Logan.” You whined as you felt your orgasm build.

“Mmm, fuck.” He growled against your clit.

The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through you, making you gasp as you came again for a second time. Your grip on his hair tightened as every single wave of pleasure rippled through you, rolling your hips involuntarily on his face.

You panted breathlessly, the only words coming out of your mouth being “Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy-“

Logan took your hand in his.

“Hey, hey, easy babygirl. Breathe.”

He picked you up off of his face, lying you down on the bed. He shrugged off his flannel, pulling his white shirt from over his head and slipping his jeans off his legs. He returned his attention to you, lifting up your lower half by your thighs and slipping a pillow under your ass.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

“Makes me able to go even deeper and hit all the right spots. Trust me, I’ve been around for over two centuries which is more than enough time to figure out what feels good.”

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for older men, but you might be pushing it for me, Logan.”

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“But there isn’t a gray hair on me, is there?”

“Yeah, and it’s honestly a shame you don’t age like the rest of us. You’d be damn good looking with some salt and pepper hair.”

“I think Wade said there’s a variant of me like that.”

“Well shit, I got the inferior model?” You teased.

“Watch it babygirl, or I might just have to fuck you hard enough to shut you up.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Only if you want it to be.” He said with a smirk.

Logan sat on his knees and pulled you by your hips to him, your legs against his chest. He pressed the head of his cock against the entrance of your pussy.

“I’ll start slow so it’ll be easier for you take me. Just tell me to stop if it’s too much. Alright?”

“Okay.” You said softly.

“Attagirl.”

He gingerly slid his way in. Despite his attempts to be gentle you still struggled to accommodate him. You winced and drew a sharp breath.

“Shhh, easy babygirl. You’re doing so well for me, but you need to relax if you want this to feel good.”

It was beyond attractive to see this side of him, so soft and affectionate. You knew only certain people had been privy to this. He buried himself to the hilt, pausing to let you adjust.

“I’m gonna start moving. Think you can handle it?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.”

“Good girl.”

Logan began to thrust at a gentle pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned.

Even though he was going slow it felt like he was ripping you in half, but it felt good, incredibly good. You wanted more, you needed to see how that raw, aggressive nature played out in the bedroom.

“Harder.” You whined.

Logan’s brow furrowed.

“Babygirl, you’re already struggling to take me as it is.”

“I know, but I want you to tear me apart. Fuck me like an animal, Logan.”

You felt him throb inside you.

“Fuck, why didn’t you let me walk in on you sooner?”

Logan increased his pace dramatically, fucking you with an animalistic intensity. By god did it hurt and you loved every second of it. Noises, a mix of pleasure and pain, escaped from your mouth. He cocked a brow at your yelps and whines.

“You doing alright there?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, h- hurts so good.”

“Goddam babygirl, you really do like it rough, huh? You’re gripping me like crazy. Here, I think this’ll help you relax a little.”

His hand moved to stroke your clit, drawing circles against the delicate, sensitive skin. You bucked your hips, taking his cock further inside you.

“Goddam, look at you, fuckin’ yourself back against me. Tell me how much you love this cock splitting you in half.”

He fucked you even faster, purposefully trying to make it harder for you to speak. All you could manage was a whimper.

“C’mon babygirl, you know I like hearing you talk.” He teased, slowing his pace slightly to let you answer.

“Y- you fe-el i- incredible, b- biggest I’ve e- ever h- had.”

“That’s my girl, so good for me.” He said, resuming his brutal rhythm.

You moaned at Logan’s praise and he felt you tighten around him.

“Oh you like that don’t you? You wanna be my good girl?” He smirked, knowing he’d found your weakness.

“P- please.” You murmured.

“Good, because you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

The sound of Logan’s hips meeting yours reverberated throughout the room. He grunted at every thrust, sliding his cock out until only the tip remained inside and then sharply forcing himself back in again, making you take every single inch. His nails on the hand that wasn’t on your clit dug into your calf.

“Choke me.” You begged.

He let out a deep chuckle.

“Damn babygirl, aren’t you just a little masochist? How could I say no when you’ve been such a good girl for me?”

With one hand still on your clit, Logan wrapped his other around your throat, squeezing it tight. You let out a strained moan.

“Yeah, makes things feel even better, doesn’t it?” He purred.

Between the feeling of Logan’s hand gripping your neck, his fingers stroking your clit, and being fucked hard and fast by a cock thicker than a beer bottle, you felt your orgasm begin to build. Logan was right on the edge as well.

“Fuck, I’m so close. You gonna cum too, babygirl?” He asked, releasing your throat.

“Y- yeah, I’m- oh g- god.” You whined.

“Good girl, cum with me.”

His words were all it took. Your breathing becoming shallow and fast as you felt yourself come undone, pulsing around him. Logan groaned, burying himself deep within you, his hot, thick cum coating your insides.

“Jesus fuuuuuckin’ Christ, you feel so perfect.” He panted as he gave his last few thrusts.

You whimpered as Logan slowly pulled out and laid beside you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. You both lay in silence for a moment, him stroking your back before finally speaking.

“You know, when I offered to have drinks with you last night I thought you’d take the hint. I was really banking on you at least kissing me, before Wade killed the mood and all.”

“I wanted to, I just…” You trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just what?”

You fidgeted with the hair on his chest.

“I dunno, I just feel like you’re way out of my league. You’re incredibly handsome and I’m… me.”

He gave a chuckle.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the stupidest goddam thing I’ve ever heard, and that says a lot because we live with Wade. Babygirl, do you not see how fuckin’ gorgeous you are?”

You felt your cheeks turn pink.

“You think so?”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Of course I do, been dreaming of this since I met you. Not gonna lie, wanting you as badly as I did when you were too nervous to even talk to me was kinda torture. There was a few times you almost walked in on me the same way I did with you.”

“O- oh.”

“Yeah, it’s uh… it’s been a while since someone’s made me feel like this. When you live in a world where everyone hates you there isn’t much opportunity for even just casual fucking.”

You looked up at him.

“Sounds lonely.” You said softly.

Logan kissed your forehead.

“Doesn’t matter now that you’re finally talking to me.”

“If you’re referring to what we just did, you’ve got a weird idea of what talking is.”

“Yeah? Then how about we continue our conversation?” He said, turning you over onto your back and kissing his way down your body.

“Very smooth, Logan.”

#x men #wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine fanfic #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfic #deadpool and wolverine #my fics

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hairmetal666 · 9 months ago

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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #famous eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #feelings confession #oblivious steve harrington #the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi #eddie falls first steve falls harder #eddie's so cool about it #grammy award winning eddie munson #vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars #driver roll up the partition please #a little bit spicy

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sol-flo · 2 years ago

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ok so in my head there's a single verse of a song. sung by david byrne. and it is "ough. i've got a [ inaudible ] disease". why

#i feel like if i could only find out what that inaudible was then i could find the song #i feel im just short circuiting something from a post that says 'blogger's disease' or sth #this is the same brain that is dead certain there's a madonna cover of bizarre love triangle #i know damn well there isnt but i can hear her sing it in my mind's ear

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ozzgin · 1 month ago

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content: gender neutral reader, noncon!, gore!, mutilation!, captivity

Yandere!Artist is not quite an artist by profession. His skill of trade can be immediately guessed in the way he so masterfully handles a scalpel. He hacks, and cleaves, and stitches right back up.

He's saved many souls, and his competency as a surgeon has never been doubted. One could say he's had a lot of practice with the less fortunate...patients.

It started with anatomical drawings; idly tracing over his used textbooks, untangling the thick vessels connecting the liver tissue. This can't be all, he thought at the time. It looked bland, it looked fake. He needed a different kind of muse.

Oh, he's gained a lot of experience since. It took many bodies to perfect his artistry, but now he can finally return home, sit back, and admire his work adorning every wall.

Then he found you.

A different kind of fascination enthralled his soul. He wanted to learn all there is to you, know you better than anyone else. Special little thing, too innocent and naïve for this world. Worry not, you could never be in better hands than his.

"Oh, it's an ugly one."

Your lips are curved into a pout, soft sobs spilling out of your mouth in hiccups. Through tears, you can discern what's left of your leg. Right above the knee, the flesh is torn, sliced choppily and exposing the bone, with clusters of fat glistening among the pooled blood.

He glances at the axe that tarnished your skin.

"You left me with no choice. How many times must I explain myself to you?"

He tucks a few hair strands behind your ear.

"Do you truly believe that the world out there is any better than here? I'm saying this out of love and concern. If you wished to have a walk, or go somewhere, I would've accompanied you.

If you're going to be sneaky, I have no choice but to discipline you."

You nod, in a daze, ears ringing from the shock. Upon reflection, it might have been a poor idea to try and escape. All the way to your hip, there's a prickly numbness, a wet warmth. You stare at his slender hands as he tucks a thin strip of cloth into your gash.

Before reaching for his surgery kit, he eyes the scenery once more: the steady streams of blood branching across the tile, the femoral artery gushing and spasming against the improvised bandage. Your face is pale, and your gaze hollow. He must confess, you're particularly beautiful in this moment, resting against the wall, your damp lashes reminding him of a Madonna painting.

"Perhaps...might you give me a moment?"

He quickly hops on his stool, and twirls a brush between his fingers.

"Don't worry, I'll be quick. Just the sketch, I promise."

He gently dabs the canvas, observing you in raw adoration. Every detail must be considered. Every stroke must be calculated.

"Afterwards, I'll patch your precious leg back. You'll be as good as new in a few days.

And hopefully wiser, if you want to avoid it in the future. I can't do miracles. This will leave an ugly scar."

Lesson learned. Your nose wrinkles with a sniff, yet you obediently straighten your back.

"Is this alright," you ask meekly, referring to your rather poor attempt at posing.

"Perfect."

#Caravaggio - The Sacrifice of Isaac (1602)#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #tw yandere #tw noncon #tw gore #horror #yandere artist #yandere doctor

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mooncleaver · 4 months ago

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Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he was relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable. Not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." No matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest.

To live life fully.

Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

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ange1heavensent · 2 months ago

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━High Class Hooker━

Pairing: singer!natasha romanoff x model!fem reader

Content Warning: +18 content, minors do not interact, making out, tribbing, porn with plot, fic based on Madonnas and Jenny Shimizu's relationship in the 90's

w/c ≈ 2000

Natasha Romanoff was a force of nature on stage and a global icon. The world adored her, worshipped her every move, her voice, her presence. Her performances across Europe were breaking records, with people flying across countries to watch her perform. But beneath all the flashing lights and roaring crowds, her mind was always drawn back to you, an undeniable craving pulling at her whenever you were apart.

Tonight, after another concert in Paris, that craving was stronger than ever. The encore had barely ended, the applause still ringing in her ears when she slipped away backstage, grabbing her phone with a hunger she couldn't ignore. She dialled your number, her fingers trembling slightly. When you answered, your voice soft and teasing, it sent a spark of desire straight through her. "Hey, superstar," you greeted, a smile in your voice. "How was the show?"

Natasha leaned against the dressing room counter, her heartbeat quickening just at the sound of you. "It was fine," she murmured, her tone low and sultry, the music she had just performed was still thrumming in her ears. "But it would’ve been better if you were here." A beat of silence lingered before you chuckled, the sound rich and knowing. "Missing me already?"

"I need you," Natasha breathed, her voice husky with intent. There was no point in pretending, she didn’t just miss you, she needed you. Every muscle in her body was aching with the memory of your touch, your skin, the way you felt beneath her. "Get on the first flight. Come to me."

It wasn’t the first time Natasha had summoned you like this, calling you away from your world of flashing cameras and runways to be at her side, even if only for one night. You were both high-profile figures, always on the move, but when she called, you came. Every time.

You could hear the command in her voice, the silent plea, and it stirred something deep inside you. "I’ll be there," you replied, and hung up, your pulse quickening with anticipation.

Within hours, you were on a plane, Paris-bound, the city lights glowing in the distance as the private car Natasha had sent waited at the airport to collect you. The car sped through the quiet, rain-slicked streets of Paris until it finally pulled up at the discreet hotel where she was staying. The driver escorted you up to Natasha’s penthouse suite. No security checks and no questions asked. You were whisked through the lobby with the kind of efficiency that came with being connected to a world-class celebrity.

The door to her suite opened just as you arrived. There she stood, leaning against the doorframe, her hair still slightly damp from the post-show shower. She looked at you with a smouldering gaze, wearing nothing but a silk robe that hung loosely around her figure. "You made it," Natasha purred, her eyes dark with desire as they roamed over you, drinking you in. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," you teased, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind you as she pulled you in close, her lips crashing against yours with an urgency that told you everything. Natasha never wasted time on words when she could show you exactly what she wanted.

You barely had time to breathe as she pressed you against the nearest wall, her hands already slipping beneath the fabric of your coat, fingers tracing the edges of your body with practised precision. "I’ve been thinking about this all night," she whispered, her lips brushing against your neck, "thinking about you." The heat between you grew instantly, the air charged with a tension that neither of you bothered to fight. Natasha’s hands were everywhere, possessive, demanding, and you could feel her need in every touch.

The bed was only steps away, but Natasha didn't have the patience to make it there just yet. She wanted to feel you, to have you right here, right now. Your clothes were gone in a matter of moments, discarded carelessly as she led you to the edge of the bed.

She pushed you down, crawling over you, her weight pressing you into the plush mattress. "You know what I want," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as her fingers began tracing patterns along your thighs. You bit back a moan as she took control, her touch skilled, knowing exactly how to unravel you.

Your hands travelled north, tracing the soft skin of her thighs and hips before slipping over the delicate fabric of her silk robe. With a gentle tug, you loosened the knot at her waist, the robe falling open with ease. Though you had seen Natasha naked before, the sight of her always took your breath away. Your eyes lingered on her chest, her nipples already hardened by the cool air. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to one, the warmth of your mouth a sharp contrast to the cold, drawing a low, satisfied groan from her.

As your mouth lavished attention on her sensitive skin, you could feel Natasha's body tense and relax beneath your touch. Her fingers tangled in your hair, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. Her back arched slightly, pressing her chest into you, silently begging for more. "You always know exactly what I need," Natasha whispered, her voice breathless.

You responded by pressing a soft kiss to her sternum, your lips tracing the delicate line of her collarbone. The cool air of the room made each warm touch even more intense. You pulled her closer, the silk robe slipping down her shoulders. The soft fabric gilded against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You paused for a moment, your gaze meeting hers. Tell me what you want," you whispered against her skin, your breath sending shivers through her. Natasha's lips curved into a soft smile as she leaned back,"I want to feel you," she murmured, her voice dropping lower. "All of you." With that, you laid down again and let her take charge. She repositioned your bodies, guided your thigh upward and positioned herself above you. The shift of her body, the warmth and weight of her above you, left you breathless. Natasha shuddered as she felt her clitoris nudge against yours, your gasp and indication that you were as sensitive as she was.

Your hands found their place on her hips, fingers grazing the delicate skin. She shivered slightly at your touch, and the sensation made your heart pound harder. You guided her slowly, savouring the way her body pressed against yours, the rhythm between you growing more deliberate.

With every slow movement, there were new sounds emitting from both of you. The way her eyes fluttered shut, the soft gasp that escaped her lips, these were moments you laid awake at night thinking about. You mirrored her pace, each motion purposeful, dragging out the delicious pleasure.

“You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice heavy with desire. There was something raw and honest in her tone that made your stomach tighten with want. You responded without words, your hands roaming across her body, tracing the line of her spine before gently pulling her down closer to you. Her soft skin, warm and inviting, pressed against you, and the sensation of being so close, so connected, sent a rush through your entire body.

Natasha’s hips began to move with more intent, her pace quickening as the friction between you intensified. Her head tilted back slightly, exposing the curve of her neck. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against her throat, the soft, salty taste of her skin grounding you in the moment. As her body rocked against yours, the air between you grew charged, each breath shared, each touch deliberate. You could feel her pulse quickening under your fingertips as she let herself get lost in the rhythm you had created together.

When she opened her eyes again, the intensity in her gaze made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice raw with need. “I won’t,” you murmured, your words soft but filled with the same urgency that coursed through both of you.

Natasha’s hands trailed down your sides, her touch light and teasing, yet insistent. The friction between your bodies was almost overwhelming now, every subtle movement drawing you both closer to the edge. You could feel her tensing, the tension coiling tighter in both of you.“God, you’re incredible,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath against her skin.

Her response was a soft moan, her forehead pressing against yours as she let herself get lost in the sensation. You could feel her trembling, her body responding to every movement, every touch, and the knowledge of how close she was only intensified your own pleasure.

The rhythm between you grew more frantic, bodies pressing together with increasing urgency. You were both teetering on the edge, the pleasure building into something too powerful to hold back any longer. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hips moving with even more need, and you felt the moment of tension just before she came undone. Her body trembled above you, her moans breaking into soft gasps as the pleasure overtook her. The sight and sound of her, completely lost in the moment, sent you over the edge with her. Your own release crashed over you, the sensation overwhelming as you held her close, both of you riding out the waves of pleasure together.

As the intensity of the moment faded, you both collapsed into each other, breathing hard, bodies still trembling. The room felt quieter now, the tension replaced by a soft, lingering warmth. Natasha stayed curled up against you, her skin warm and flushed. For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to just lie there in the afterglow, feeling each other’s presence.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence, her voice soft and full of affection. “You always know how to take my breath away.” You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart against yours. “You do the same to me.”

The first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains when you woke, the air still thick with the scent of her perfume and the aftermath of last night. Natasha was already up, sitting at the edge of the bed, her back to you as she stared out the window at the city below, wrapped in her robe.

She sensed your stirring and turned, her expression soft, but that guarded look already creeping back into her eyes. "I have to leave soon," she said quietly. There was a flicker of regret in her voice, but it was hidden behind the wall she's built between you. "The tour continues."

You sat up, the sheets falling around your waist. You understood the deal between you, the unspoken rules. You were her escape, her indulgence in the moments when the spotlight grew too bright, but nothing more. There was no room for more. "I know," you replied, rising from the bed, already reaching for your clothes. There was no need for affection, no lingering goodbyes. You both knew the routine.

As you dressed, you caught her watching you, her gaze lingering longer than it usually did. But she didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you. Natasha was always careful to keep you at arm’s length, no matter how close she pulled you at night. With a final glance, you walked to the door, the cool handle in your palm. "Good luck with the next show." Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, almost sad smile.

"Thanks."

And with that, you left, the heavy door clicking shut behind you as you slipped back into your world, leaving Natasha Romanoff to continue in hers. But you both knew it wouldn’t be long before she called again. And when she did, you'd be there, ready to fall into her arms, if only for one more night.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

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denim-devil · 1 year ago

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Bad To The Bone - Week 1 | Mirror Fucking/Hair pulling

Summary - When hearts collide, Billy chooses to chase after the longing thoughts that have only you in the midsts of them all, the biggest halloween party ever hosted in the small town of Hawkins was his best bet to finally entice those very thoughts…

Pairings - Bully!Billy Hargrove x M!Reader

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he stalked the crowded room, his eyes lingering on the current sight before him. Steve’s hands were far to close for his liking, lightly grabbing at your swaying hips.

What had felt like an eternity, Billy slowly crept toward the two of you, anger and malice ran through his veins like the blood circulating his body had done, bubbling up, growing closer to a boiling point.

Steve’s lips felt warm against the crook of your neck, his teeth nibbling gently against the dampness. Although under the influence, you had no desire to stop him, not after the end of your mid-night rendezvous with the current king and bully of Hawkins High.

A slight shove had forced the ridiculed Steve into the wall beside the two of you, a harsh bang sounding out into the room, even with the noisy crowd of teenage students and the humming beats of madonna…it was loud.

“Watch it asshole-“

Steve ushered out with a hiss. As if time itself was a concept, you stood, frozen. Billy stood with a proud smirk, his black, slightly damp leather jacket was hung open, showcasing the toned physique you were once frequented with.

“Watch what? I didn’t do anything”

Billy tuts, his eyes flicking over to you, looking you up and down like he would his next meal, like a dangerous predator to it’s prey. A certain ache began to pool between your legs, what were once pale, your cheeks were now a deep shade of crimson, taking note of Billy’s looming figure.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, it goes back to laying loose between a shit-eaten grin, his tongue flicking over the orange tip. Billy had no time for games, nor Steve’s bullshit, instead he opted for the obvious choice, charging toward you with his fingerless leather gloves which eagerly wrapped around your bicep, yanking you toward the stairs.

“Oh your in so much shit sweetheart”

He half growled, half whispered, even with the music blaring and the crowd going back to dancing and chatting, Billy took himself seriously, only wanting you to know what was to follow as you stumbled up behind him, leaving a confused Steve, stammering around in the very same corner.

He hadn’t bothered to look back, feeling how limp your wrist was within his grip had told him everything he needed to know, you had no fight to win, Billy had already won, more so with the dingy bathroom door flying open with a tug and a kick.

Thump, thump, thump. It rang through your ears like an alarm, heartbeat pacing like a jockey and it’s horse during a race, running quicker once the door slammed shut and the click of the lock latching away both your confidence and the thoughts of an impending escape.

He stood, flicking the cigarette bud onto the floor before raising one of his heavy boots, stomping the crisp leftovers into dust.

You watched the older male proceed to shake of his jacket, leaving him in just the denim jeans he was naturally acquainted with.

“You better think twice before ever letting Harrington touch you like that again-“

Nodding was the only beneficial answer, earning a daring smirk from the manic jock before you. His golden locks were matted yet matched the darkness now claiming the once ocean blue eyes he usually sported, his hair resting against the sweaty tan skin that covered his innards.

His steps grew closer with each thump correlating with your heartbeat, black boots treading against the tiled floor toward you until his warm breath fanned lightly across your pink-dusted cheeks.

“Billy- please, it was nothing, j-just needed something”

He tutted before pressing his body against you, pushing you further into the floral wallpapered brick behind, instantly making you feel small and defenceless.

“Save it- you need to learn a thing or two…”

Billy doesn’t think twice, he normally doesn’t before acting on said thoughts, twisting your body, roughly laying you stomach first against the counter top that faced the elongated mirror before you.

His body, warm and delectable now rolled into your arched form from behind, pushing most of his growing erection against you, forcing you to feel your own impending doom.

“You should be thanking me sweetheart, you got this cock all to yourself and you were ready to throw it away like dog shit- fuck”

You incoherently mumble a short “no” before pushing back momentarily, testing the waters. Luck had happened to be in your favour, a starving Billy, craving nothing but to ravish you groaned before pulling back.

It was easier to see this way, watching eager finger tips make quick work of his leather belt and crotch zipper, both thumbs hooking into the burgundy band of his boxers, wiggling them down slowly, past the light trimming of blonde pubes surrounding his veiny, thick base.

“Can’t stop thinking about how easily you take this dick”

Your tongue trails over your dry lips, watching as the band smoothly runs further down, catching on the moist tip before being completely removed, his cock bounces, loudly slapping into his toned abdomen, the head angry with urgency, a deep crimson in colour, he was thick from base to tip, a singular girthy vein running on the underside, splitting off just underneath the curve of his tip.

He chuckled at the reaction, watching as the same lips he used to get himself once in the janitor closet after gym class hung agape, eyes wide with earnest and adoration.

“Don’cha think Harrington would give it in so easy? Look at you, all dolled up for the wrong guy-“

You groan into the warm air of the now secluded space, the bathroom, although big felt small with the presence of Billy watching over you, his shadow looming in every corner from the dim strip light placed just above the mirror, forwarding his domineering ways.

“Billy- I got dolled up for you…”

As if words were a dagger, sharp and pointy, cutting into his skin, seeping deeper and changing his whole point of view. It was clear now, from the tight, revealing light wash jeans that hugged every spot he had both discovered and devoured more then once to the dainty leather jacket that had you looking smaller then usual, swallowing you up.

“Oh really? Fuck princess, you really know how to rile up a guy”

His fingers tips scrambled from your inner thighs upward, towards the belt loops and eventually to the knot holding you together.

Billy had made quick work with your belt and jeans, unclasping the metal before roughly pulling down the tight denim that hugged you perfectly, followed by the white briefs unveiling the very source of his affliction and desire.

His cock, thick and heavy, laid perfectly between your crack, pulsing at the very thought of being inside once again, after weeks of having blue balls, it was his forbidden truth to feel you all over again, like the first.

“Harrington could never- you really think he could fuck you the way I do? Make you feel things…”

Reaching down, a warm hand cups the base of your dick before slightly tugging, the leather cold against the warmth he was supplying. The moans that had forced themselves from deep within bubbled up into a whimper once surpassing your open lips.

His free hand managed to sneakily wrap itself within your hair, tugging harshly, you were not getting out of this, even if you had the choice.

“I won’t ask you again doll-“

You mumble a sharp, squeaky “no” once the angry tip rests softly against the puckered skin surrounding your entrance and Billy’s gateway into bliss. A few more tugs was all he offered up before removing his hand from your dribbling member, slightly patting at the pert globes you arched into him.

He chuckled cockily, his beer-soaked chest resting against your clothed back before looking up into the glass mirror. It was almost invigorating to see himself like this, to watch you wriggle with anticipation, giving in so easily, allowing Billy himself to guide you through his ecstasy, it was even better, a strangers bathroom had never brought him so much glory.

“Atta boy, come on, won’t you relax for me, let me in sweetheart…”

He slips in with ease, creating a stretch that burned like the sun, growing with each passing inch, watching as his tongue danced against your neck, how your features twisted with pain…then pleasure.

“Look at yourself-“

He settles against you before pressing his hips flush against your own, filling you up, warm and thick in your gut. Tear-stained eyes flick up to settle on his baby blues that twitched with lust, his smirk big and proud, almost intimidating.

“That’s it- that’s my pretty boy, such a sweet thing for me, all for me”

He panted before pulling completely back with an audible pop, watching his cock bob, he ushered himself back in to the hilt with a loud slap, this was something Billy would never forget, clearly.

“Keep your eyes on me princess-“

You did, watching him roll his hips, feeling each inch slip and slide against your velvet walls, his tip edging it’s way back and forth, watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Bill- Billy, please-“

You gasp before he presses fully forward, pushing against your pleasure spot and watching you gasp, tongue licking at dry lips. Once again you find his eyes, blushing at the wet laps he gives your neck.

“You’ll think twice next time hmm?”…

#male reader #x male reader #stranger things #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #smut #possessive!billy #this woulf of been longer- but i’ve lost interest #hope yall enjoy it for what it is 🫶

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kitmon · 10 months ago

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Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside.

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back.

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

#I witerwy need him so bad #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things

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