#and then meeting the guy it’s based off of

[beatrice-otter]

The thing to remember about the US Federal Government is that it is designed to be cumbersome and hard to change dramatically. Because the Founding Fathers were concerned that some demagogue or whatever was going to get elected President and start dismantling things or turning the country into a monarchy or whatever, and trash everything before wiser heads could stop him. Which is why there are things like checks and balances. They deliberately made things not efficient so that there would be time to stop someone trying to dismantle the system. And then on top of that you add 200 years of inertia and bureaucratic cruft. To do most important things--especially things which are a major change from the way things were previously done--you have to get a lot of people on board from a lot of different parts of the government. You have to get people to work together.

And the current crop of Republicans are really fucking terrible at that. They can't even work together with their own people. And Trump amplifies the worst tendencies of factionalism.

The things that a President can do that don't require lots of buy-in from lots of different parts of government all require an in-depth knowledge of how the government works on a procedural level, and figuring out what minor rule change or procedural change will have large effects down the road. Biden was an absolute wizard at this, and largely selected people who were also pretty darn good at it.

Trump? Trump sucks at it. He knows almost nothing himself, he's not willing to learn, he hires people based on who strokes his ego best and then fires them in a fit of pique before they have time to learn what they're doing.

The big threat is not Trump, but the fact that this time he's hired at least some people who learned from his last term and also people like the Project 2025 guys who have had time to do the research to figure out how to do stuff. And the thing is ... they have to work around Trump. He's never cooperated with anybody in his life. He's going to want to start firing people the first time he has a problem. He's going to set fire to any sort of coalition building they try to do. He's going to attack his own side and go off on tangents and focus his policies in whatever place catches his eye at the moment instead of where they want him to.

Trump can do huge amounts of damage, and probably will. The Project 2025 guys can do huge amounts of damage, and probably will.

But it's not going to be easy for them, and there are absolutely things we can do--and things government employees and Democrats in congress can and will do--that will at least mitigate it and stave off the worst of it.

As for what you can do ... call your legislators on important issues, https://5calls.org/ will give you issues, a script, and phone numbers. But also! Write letters to the editor of your local papers, volunteer with your local advocacy, mutual aid, political, and social service organizations, and attend as many local city council meetings as you can. People always underestimate how much difference local advocacy matters, how much it shapes the community, and how much it affects the larger national conversation.

some actually practical pieces of information that hopefully may quell some worries about Trump's second term:

This article explains the impracticality and illegality of Project 2025, and why most of it is very likely to be legally struck down.

This article explains how, even with a narrow Republican majority in the House, Trump will only be able to pass very bland partisan laws or bipartisan laws.

The ACLU has already prepared a gameplan for combatting the effects of Project 2025.

The state of New York has contingency plans to fight against Project 2025.

like obviously it's still gonna be a rough 4 years, and i'm not dismissing any legitimate worries. i'm just hoping this might ease some anxieties just a little.

if anyone else has some similar pieces of practical information that can dispel some of the panic, please feel free to share them!

stay vigilant and keep fighting, but try not to despair. try to keep a calm and level head as we head into the new year.

[daemonbrain]

Part 1

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird. 

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop. 

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would. 

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun. 

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever. 

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied. 

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years. 

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways. 

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay. 

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face. 

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for. 

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road. 

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed. 

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-” 

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed. 

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird. 

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours. 

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes”  He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy. 

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move. 

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him. 

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!” 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing. 

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.

[mrsmangi]

black dahlia ! <3

denial - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: black dahlia - lie - meaning: symbolic of betrayal and sadness ♡ w.c.: 2.4k ♡ a/n: wrote this sick af. angsty. hope you guys enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

It began with a fleeting look. Luigi never meant to linger, to observe, to hold his glance for just a second too long; but you had a way of drawing people to you, like moths to flame. 

Luigi convinces himself that his attraction to you is harmless, that there’s no real damage in observing the details that make you who you are. He tells himself it’s not a crime to notice the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re bored or how the corners of your eyes crinkle into crow’s feet when you laugh. Those things were small, he reasoned–details anyone could notice, nothing out of the ordinary. He tells himself he’s just being attentive, but the more he notices you, the harder it is to pull away. 

There’s safety in silence, in pretending he doesn’t see what’s so plainly in front of him. Luigi has always been measured with his words, careful not to betray anything more than what’s expected of him. He’s an expert in deflecting, in shifting the conversation to avoid focusing on himself for too long. He offers vague smiles and light-hearted quips that leave questions at bay to his friends–to you. When you ask him about his day, he chooses his answers with precision, giving you just enough to keep the conversation alive, but never enough to come within arm’s reach of him. 

“How was work?” he recalls you once asked, leaning against the counter as he fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve. 

“Fine,” he replied quickly. “Busy, but you know, the usual.” 

You tilted your head, clearly unconvinced. “You say that every time. Is it really always the same?” 

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Pretty much. Routine keeps the place running, I guess. Not too much room for excitement.” 

You chuckled softly, letting the conversation drop, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered on him. How your smile had faltered at the edges, like you were waiting for him to say something else. Luigi noticed, and he felt the weight of it–your expectation hanging in the air, but said nothing. Instead, he shifted slightly, breaking eye contact like the moment didn’t matter; as though the silence between you didn’t carry all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. Just like that, the moment slipped away, like it had never existed at all. 

Some moments, though, aren’t so easily brushed off. 

It’s a Thursday evening when you ask Luigi a question he isn’t ready to face. The sun has already set, and the two of you sit across from each other. The faint sound of cars and incoherent conversation passes outside. You’re relaxed, leaning back slightly, but your expression is steady when you speak. 

“Luigi?” you call. 

“Yeah?” he replies, looking up from his phone, eyebrows lifting slightly. 

There’s a pause as you fidget with the hem of your sleeve, gathering your thoughts. You lean forward, gaze meeting his. “Do you ever think about us?” 

For a moment, Luigi stares at you, his brow furrowing as though he doesn’t quite understand the question. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice light, nearly playful, as if you’ve just told him a joke he doesn’t fully get. 

You don’t waver. “You know what I mean, Luigi.” 

He blinks, tilting his head as if he’s searching your face for a clue. “Are you asking if I’ve ever thought about us like…more than friends?” He keeps his tone casual to distract himself from the weight of the question. 

“Yes,” you answer, plainly. 

Before he can help it, he lets out a short, breathy laugh–the kind that sounds more like discomfort than humor. “What?” he says, brows knitting together as he leans back. “You mean, like us? Together?” 

You nod, expression calm but insistent, and Luigi shifts in his seat. “I mean,” he stares, trailing off as he scratches his head, forcing out another quiet chuckle. “I don’t know, I haven’t really…thought about it.” 

He’s lying. He knows it, even as the words leave his mouth. He keeps going, keeps up the casual façade because he can’t tell if admitting the truth would make things better or worse. “We’re just good the way we are, right?” he adds, his voice a little too light. He really hopes you’ll just agree and let the conversation die, just as you have so many other times before. But you don’t. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, watching him with an expression that makes it clear you’re not buying into his act. 

“You’ve really never thought about it?” you press, your tone soft. 

Luigi’s heart gives a sharp twist, but he keeps his face neutral, or at least he tries to. “Not really,” he says, forcing another shrug. His smile feels thin, stretched, like it might just snap under the heaviness of his words. “I just… I guess it’s never crossed my mind, you know?” 

Lie. Lie, lie, lie. It’s a flimsy excuse, and he can see the way your face changes–how your lips press together, the way your eyes narrow, and how your nose scrunches in disbelief. He’s convinced you’ll call him out on his bullshit, but you only nod, sitting back a little. 

“Right,” you say simply, but your voice holds an emotion he can’t name. 

Luigi isn’t ready to carry the weight of the silence that follows. He taps his fingers against his knee, movements precise and practiced, as if he’s trying to convince himself he’s unaffected. Every second that you hold his stare feels like another crack forming in the wall he’s spent so long building. He shifts again in his seat, glancing at the door, the table, anywhere but you, because he knows if he looks at you for too long, the truth will slip out before he can prevent it. 

Have you already figured it out? Have you noticed how his voice falters when he says your name or how he catches himself glancing your way even when there’s no reason to? Maybe you’ve been keeping a record of the times he’s brushed you off in conversation, every moment he’s chosen his words carefully to avoid giving himself away.

His knee bounces once, then twice, and he forces himself to stop, planting both feet firmly on the ground. He clears his throat, but it doesn’t help or ease the tension coiling in his stomach. He knows he should say something, anything, to break the silence, but every word that comes to mind disappears before he can voice it. 

“You okay?” you ask quietly, and Luigi’s stomach twists at the way your words cut into him. 

“Yeah,” he replies quickly. The sound of his own voice feelings foreign, like it doesn’t belong to him. He forces another laugh, but it doesn’t sound convincing. “I just wasn’t expecting this conversation, that’s all.” 

Your eyes linger on him, and he swears he can feel them peeling back every layer he desperately tries to keep intact. Can you hear his heart pounding? See the way his hands are clenching to keep himself from fidgeting? 

“I didn’t mean to throw you off,” you say softly, and your voice is so honest, Luigi finds it harder to keep up the charade. 

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. The only thing he can think about now is how much he simply wants to tell you the truth, how much he wants to admit he thinks about you more often than he’d like to admit, how much it kills him to act like you don’t mean more to him than you should. 

It’s for the best, he thinks as you finally look away. He says nothing. Your attention shifts to something else and Luigi tells himself that keeping his distance will protect you–the both of you–from the complications of what could be. The space between you feels wider than it ever has before, and Luigi knows it’s his fault. He’s created this distance, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. 

“Thanks for your honesty,” you add, though the words sound hollow. 

He wants to say more, to explain himself, to pull you back from the space that seems to have opened between you at that moment; but Luigi only watches as you smile–polite, but not warm. You shift back slightly, to create distance from him, even as he sits with you in the same room. 

After that, things change. 

Luigi notices the way you pull back, the way your laughter becomes less frequent around him, the way you seem to hesitate before starting conversations you once dove into effortlessly. He hates it, hates himself for putting that distance between you. Still, he tells himself it’s what’s right, that keeping you at a distance spares you both from destruction. He can’t stop himself from having moments of weakness. 

A few days later, it’s a late afternoon when the two of you end up on a park bench, although neither of you is entirely sure why you’re there. You had sent Luigi a text earlier in the day, asking if he wanted to get some fresh air. He hesitated, staring at the screen for longer than he should have before replying with a simple, “Sure. Meet you at the park.” 

There wasn’t a plan to say anything heavy–it was supposed to just be a walk, casual, quiet conversation to fill the gap that had been growing between you. As the two of you meandered through the trails, the silence felt heavier than usual. Every lighthearted comment you attempted to make seemed to fall flat, and Luigi couldn’t help but give clipped, almost distracted responses. 

When you spot a bench tucked beneath the shade of an old oak tree, you gesture to it. “Want to sit for a bit?” 

Luigi glances at you, observing you, before nodding. “Yeah. Sure.” 

So, here you sit, side by side, the quiet stretches on. Neither of you speak for a while, and it’s only when the silence finally becomes unbearable that Luigi breaks it. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he says, voice soft, but his words carry an unrecognizable edge. 

“Have I?” you ask plainly, your foot nudging a stray leaf. 

“Yeah. Feels like…you’ve been pulling away,” he nods, exhaling a breath. 

You don’t respond, tracing the grooves of the bench’s armrest with your fingertips. Your lips press together before you finally speak. “Maybe I am,” you admit. 

Luigi’s stomach turns. He forces himself to look at you, brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, even though there’s a knot in his chest that tells him he already knows the answer. 

“I’ve been so stuck, Luigi,” you say, looking at him. You hold his gaze longer than you have in weeks. There’s a look in your eye that he can’t place–one of hurt, maybe, or resignation. “I’ve been standing still in the same place for days, weeks…and you’ve already made up your mind.” 

He opens his mouth slightly, as if he’s about to argue, to tell you that you’re wrong, that he hasn’t decided anything, but no sound comes out. The truth–messy, tangled, and heavy–lodges itself in his throat, impossible to force past the weight of the lie he’s been holding onto: he doesn’t have feelings for you. Instead, he looks at his hands, jaw clenching. 

“You know, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” you continue after a beat, gently. “I’m not trying to…force anything, but it’s hard to keep pretending everything’s fine when it feels like you’re not being honest with me, Luigi–or with yourself.” 

He knows he should give you an answer, something solid. A part of him wonders if this is the point of no return–if saying nothing will just make you drift further away from him. His mind churns with half-formed thoughts, excuses he doesn’t even believe, but all that slips out is a weak, “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realize it felt that way to you.” 

Luigi hears your sigh. From the corner of his eye, you shift slightly, leaning away from him on the bench. As much as he’d like to reach for you, he stays in place, hands interlocked together in his lap. 

“Um,” you begin and pause. You sigh again, leaning back against the bench. “I think I need a fresh start.” Your voice is tinged with sadness, and Luigi suddenly feels uneasy for a reason he can’t explain. “Somewhere new. Different.” 

Luigi feels his chest tighten, stomach falling at your words. He looks at you then, really looks at you, and there’s a finality in your face that he isn’t ready to confront. He manages a small nod, voice strained as he mutters, “That makes sense.” 

You gaze at him, softly and with resolute, and then glance down at your shoes. “My mom has been asking me to come stay with her for a while,” you confess, sounding uncertain. “She thinks a change of scenery might be good for me. She’s in California now, close to the coast, actually. She’s been saying I could take some time to figure things out, you know? Clear my head and whatnot.” 

Luigi says nothing. He should say something–ask you not to go, tell you that you don’t need to figure things out on your own, he’s here for you–but he only nods again, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “That sounds nice,” he says softly. 

“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “I think it might be what I need. It’s not forever, just a little while, but it feels like the right thing to do.” 

His heart sinks further at his words, and he watches as your gaze drifts, your mind clearly elsewhere. Maybe you’re daydreaming about the possibilities of what a fresh start could mean for you. Luigi wants to tell you that he’s sorry, to apologize for the reason you’re feeling lost, but he doesn’t know how. 

Finally, you stand, movements slow as if you’re preparing to leave something behind. Leave him behind. “Take care, Luigi,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. Then, without another word, you turn and walk away, footsteps light. 

Luigi stays on the bench, rooted to his seat, hands clasped tightly in his lap as he watches you disappear down the path. As the sun dips lower and the world around him continues to move, Luigi remains frozen on the bench, clinging to the fragile hope that this isn’t the end—holding on to denial, even though deep down, he knows you’re already gone.

[sincerelykimii]

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐲𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜) 𝐥𝐦𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝟏𝟖+

𝐂𝐲𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

Stomping through the snowy path, towards the Hydra base alongside Steve Rogers. You hated this man. You truly did. You hated how much you were drawn to him. You hated how much he got under your skin. You especially hated how much you, didn’t hate him. Tony assigned both of you to go on the mission together, it was no doubt you guys worked perfectly together but the bickering got in between that. He always had something negative to say, “C’mon keep up, you’re slowing me down.” he says, glancing back at you. You were only a few steps behind him, despite the cold not having an affect on you, you still grew tired from walking such a long distance. “Yeah, yeah.” you mumble catching up to him. As you approached the base you instantly felt something was off, the air seemed to freeze completely around the both of you. The sound of wind hushing stopped, an ambush. “Steve…wait.” you whisper.

Steve stops abruptly, his senses on high alert as he scans their surroundings. He can feel it too, an eerie silence that doesn't sit right. As he turns to look at you, his expression is serious. "What is it?" he asks quietly, his eyes never leaving yours.

The soft crunching of snow made your body tense up, your eyes meet his with urgency, “We have to go back, this doesn’t feel right.” You say keeping your voice hushed. You can feel the shift in movement around you, making your head spin in different directions. Steve's instincts kick in, mirroring your unease. He slowly starts to backtrack, his hand reaching for his shield on his back. "You're right..." He whispers, his eyes darting around the frozen landscape.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them erupts. the snow explodes around you two. Ice shards fly everywhere, narrowly missing you both. Hydra soldiers emerge from hidden tunnels, surrounding you. "Dammit," Steve mutters, pulling his shield off his back. He throws it effortlessly, knocking one soldier unconscious.

Your heartbeat picks up, the two of you are no match for the amount of soldiers surrounding. “Duck.” With that you send ice shards into as many soldiers as you could before grabbing Steve’s arm, pulling him behind a bush. “We have to retreat, there’s too many of them.”

Steve follows your lead, ducking behind the bush just as a barrage of bullets whizzes by where you were standing. "You're right," he grunts, peeking through the leaves to assess the situation. The soldiers are closing in, their boots crunching on the frozen ground. You nod trying to come up with a plan to leave safely. “When I say run, sprint as fast as you can.” You whisper, he tries to argue but it’s no use.

Your eyes contort to a glowing ice blue. shit. shit. shit. Popping up from behind the bush, you manipulate the ice below the soldiers, sending ice like shards through their bodies. “Run!” Steve grabs you, sprinting as fast as he can. You arrive at an old cabin. Steve kicks open the cabin door, pulling both of you inside the darkened interior. The old smell of wood and ash hitting your senses immediately. He slams the door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. His eyes widen as he notices your ice-blue glowing eyes fading away.

"What the hell was that back there?"

You fall onto the old sofa, chest heaving. “Saving your ass.” you breathe, still trying to catch your breath.

Steve lets out a short, incredulous chuckle despite the dire situation. He pushes off from the door and strides over to the sofa, lowering himself to sit beside you. His gaze is searching, eyebrows furrowed with concern and lingering awe from the display of your powers. "Literally,"

There’s a few moments of silence, comfortable silence at that, before you spoke up, “We can hide in here for a while then head back to the quinjet.” You say, standing up, you open the heavy curtain on the window and your jaw drops. The snow completely covered it, “no…” you mumble under your breath. You try to open the door but it’s shut closed, We’re trapped.

In an instant, he's by your side, concern etched deeply in his features. He tries to push the door open himself, his muscles flexing with effort. It doesn't budge. "Trapped," he says grimly, running a hand through his hair.

Your jaw tightens, “fucking great.” you mutter, taking a seat back on the sofa. “Is your com still working?”

"Yeah," He pats his communicator, then presses the button. "This is Rogers. Anyone read?" Static answers him. He tries again, lower voice laced with worry. "Tony? Natasha? Anyone?" Still static. He drops down on the coffee table facing you, his brows furrowed. You groan knowing you’re really trapped now. “The snow should pass over, I can try to move it but it looks like there’s a lot out there, it’ll take hours.”

Steve nods, looking grim but determined. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considers the situation. "Hours might be a problem. Those soldiers weren't far behind us, and they'll likely follow the tracks." He glances around the cabin, mentally cataloging potential weapons or defensive positions.

You nod, “I can cover our tracks, it’ll buy us some time.” Standing up from the sofa, you make your way over to the window once again. Focusing on the ice, you rise it a bit higher covering the foot prints.

Steve watches you work, impressed despite the dire circumstances. Once you've covered the tracks, he stands up and joins you by the window. He peers out into the blinding snowstorm, his breath fogging up the glass. "This storm is worse than I thought."

No shit Sherlock. “Are you cold?” you whisper, turning to look up at him. You can handle the cold, it’s practically pumping through your veins. But Steve? He can only sustain the temperature for so long.

"A little," He admits softly, his body language stiffening slightly, not wanting to show weakness. He's used to cold weather training…hell, he can sustain it for a lot longer than you probably could, but this storm is something else. He watches you, sees how unaffected you are by the temperature. "You're like a human ice cube," he jokes softly.

You smirk at his comment, giving him a playful slap to the chest before taking a seat on the sofa. “How long do you think you’ll last, till you freeze.” you ask, you meant in a joking manner but it came out a bit more serious than you intended. This is the longest conversation you and Steve had without arguing. Maybe it’s the predicament you’re currently in, not much room for arguing at the moment.

He sits down next to you, his gaze drifting to the window as he tries to estimate his endurance in this frigid environment. "A few hours." he says quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. Theres no source of heat in here, no fire, no blankets, nothing. He’ll be lucky if he can even go a few hours. He glances over at you, his expression, almost thoughtful.

You inch closer to his embrace, trying to provide some kind of warmth. “I know you would rather be anywhere but here…but this is the best option if you don’t want to freeze.” You mumble, scooting closer.

He tenses briefly, then relaxes into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you to share what little warmth he has left. He rests his chin on top of your head, inhaling the faint scent that's uniquely yours. "This is torture," he mutters softly.

You chuckle softly, “A couple hours, that’s all. Then we can get the hell out of here.” You whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you even closer. He knows he should push you away, but the cold is sapping his strength and resolve. He rests his head against yours, his voice barely audible.

"And then what? Back to hating each other?"

You shrug in his arms, “That’s usually how it goes.” you mutter, You never understood why he hated you. The constant picking on you, the hushed retorts. You certainly don’t hate him, but god…does he make it hard to like him. He sighs, his breath visible in the cold air. For a moment, he's silent, mulling over your words and the irony of their situation. Here they are, stranded together in a freezing cabin, pretending to tolerate each other for survival.

An hour or so passes and you practically can feel Steve shaking in your arms. “Steve, you okay?” you whisper, looking up at him. His lip is quivering ever so slightly, and his face is flushed.

He looks down at you, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. "F-fine," he stutters, trying to hide the shiver that wracks his body. He knows he's reaching his limit, the cold seeping into his bones and sapping his strength. Before you could think, you straddle his lap facing him. “Just…relax.” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace.

The heat of your body against his instantly warms him, but the gesture catches him completely off guard. He sits frozen - literally and figuratively - surprised by your sudden closeness. His hands automatically go to your waist to steady himself. "What are you doing?"

“Trying to keep you alive.” you mumble into his neck, accidentally rolling your hips against his trying to sit comfortably on his lap, not realizing exactly what you just did.

His heart hammers against his chest as he realizes the position you've put him in. His face is pressed against your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling the warmth of your body. He can feel your hips against his, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to react. You shift uncomfortably on his lap, hips rolling against his. You would think sitting on his lap would be a bit more comfortable, it felt like sitting on a brick.

He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the uncomfortable yet strangely pleasant sensation of your hips against his. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Stop moving," he mutters, his voice strained.

You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. You didn’t mean to…? “Sorry.” you breathe out, your breath warm against his chilling neck. He suppresses a shudder, not from cold this time, but from the feeling of your breath so close to his sensitive neck. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly.

"It's fine," he gruffs out, though his rigid posture suggests otherwise.

You swear you weren’t doing it on purpose, but couldn’t help shifting again, his hold around your waist getting uncomfortably tight. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death Rogers.” you mutter, rolling your hips against his once again.

His breath catches audibly in his throat at the movement, his usually controlled demeanor beginning to crack. "Would you stop-" But he can't finish the sentence, your movement has made something very evident through his layers of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath. Your heart stops beating for a moment, is he seriously? “Steve.” you retort, pulling away from his neck to meet his eyes.

His eyes lock with yours, filled with an unreadable expression - a mix of anger, frustration, and something else he refuses to acknowledge. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. "You're doing it on purpose," he accuses, his voice low and gravelly.

You scoff, resting your hand on his chest. Is he fucking serious? “I am not doing anything.” you retort back.

His hand moves from your waist to your hip, applying the slightest bit of pressure to keep you still. "Bullshit," he mutters, his face inches from yours. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath your touch. "Do you even realize where-" But he stops himself, jaw clenched.

So much for not arguing. “Yeah? tell me what I’m doing, that’s supposedly on purpose.” Something in your tone changed, your voice was low, almost seductive. You slide your hand from his chest to the back of his neck, seeing the small hairs stand up.

His breath catches at your touch on his neck, muscles tensing. "You're- Fuck," he swears quietly, gripping your hip firmly. "You're sitting on my lap, moving around like..." He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

"You know exactly what you're doing."

Your eyes widen slightly, realizing what he’s implying. “You think I’m purposely trying to ride you or something?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

His eyebrows furrow as he stares at you incredulously. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to think when your hips are basically grinding against-" He stops abruptly, realizing how loud his voice has gotten. Clearing his throat, he stops noticing a smirk creep onto your lips. you’re having an effect on him, and he knows it. Your eyes glance to the very evident bulge in his pants, before meeting his eyes once again.

His eyes watch your gaze flick downwards, his jaw tightening again. "Goddammit," he mutters softly, his voice lower than before. Your smirk making him suspicious. His eyes flick down to your lips briefly. "Are you-" He swallows hard. You cut off his words, rolling your hips against his with urgency. “Oh like this?” you retort sarcastically.

His eyes snap down to where your body moves against his. "Shit," he mutters quietly, watching your hips. "That's not an answer," he grits out, trying his best to ignore the sensation between his legs. "And stop moving," he adds sharply. Despite his efforts telling you to stop, You simply nod slowing your movements, but not stopping them.

Steve's nostrils flare as he takes a shuddering breath, fists clenching at his sides. "I said stop moving," he repeats, his voice strained with barely suppressed frustration - and something else entirely. His hips involuntarily jerk upwards, betraying his body's reaction. The sudden movement, catches you off guard completely. A soft moan slipping from your lips.

He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he realizes what just happened. His eyes snap back up to meet yours, seeing the soft, needy sound that escaped your lips. His gaze locks onto yours, the air thick with tension. "Don’t," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You stop your teasing, almost embarrassed at the sound that left your lips. “Sorry.” you whisper resting both of your hands on his chest, trying to steady yourself. His muscles flex beneath your hands, chest heaving. The word "Sorry" catches in his throat as he stares at your lips again, remembering how they just forming around that delicate moan. "Just shut u-" He catches himself, jaw clenching.

"Don't stop moving."

His words throw you for a loop, your brows furrowing in response hearing his low words. You roll your hips against his slowly, the friction feeling delicious. His eyes roll back slightly, head tipping back against the wall as he lets out a shaky breath. The movement is slow, but it's enough. His hips begin to move subtly, matching your roll with his own gentle thrusts. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, head still pressed against the wall.

His whispered words are enough to send heat straight to your core. You quicken your movements, grinding harsher against his hardness. He gasps sharply, one hand flying to grip your hip as his control slips. "Fuck, wait-" But his words dissolve into a low groan as you press against him more insistently. His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of that delicious heat rubbing against his aching cock.

Still grinding your hips, you lower your head catching his neck, leaving soft open mouth kisses along his jaw. His hips buck up hitting your clit perfectly, making you moan softly just below his ear. He inhales sharply, his body tensing as he feels your warm breath on his neck, those soft open-mouthed kisses driving him mad. His hips surge upward again, finding that perfect spot that makes you make those tiny needy sounds.

You wanted more, fuck that. You needed more.

“Steve…”

His name on your lips, broken and desperate like that, completely shatters his remaining control. One hand moves to grip your hair at the nape of your neck, the other squeezing your hip possessively. "God, stop moaning like that..."

You smirk, kissing just below his ear, softly nipping at the sensitive skin. “S��good Steve…just like that.” you coo in his ear.

His breath catches sharply as your voice, low and breathy, tickles his ear. He swallows a groan, realizing you're purposefully teasing him with words and touches. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he pants out, one eyebrow quirked despite his desperation. Just as the words leave his lips, his hips jerk up hitting your clit deliciously once again. “yes…!” you cry out.

A shudder runs through him at your shameless moan, his resolve cracking further. "Fuck, you're sexy when you're desperate," he growls, surprising himself with the dirty talk. His hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing and guiding your hips in tighter circles against him.

Pressing a hand against his chest, halting his movements. You climb off of his lap, pulling your tights down quickly. His eyes darken at the sight, you swore he drool a little. He pulls you back on his lap, letting out a whiny moan, the thin lace of your panties being the only barrier between you two. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands flying to your hips to pull you even closer, as if he can't get enough of the friction.

Making it apparent you couldn’t get enough, you lift your hips above his, hovering over his bulge. “Take them off.” you whisper, tilting his head up to look at you. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, filled with a heady mix of desire and surprise at your commanding tone. Without a word, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your bare, glistening core.

“You sure?”

You nod, reaching down unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling them down just enough to release his bulge evident in his boxers. “Look at you…” you whisper, breath catching at the sight. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, watching your confident movements. The way you're teasing him, handling him with such deliberate care, drives him crazy.

"Don't look at me like that..." he warns, though it comes out more like a plea than anything else. "It's making me..." His words trail off into a low groan as his cock bounces free, standing proud and hard between his thighs. He's never been so turned on in his life, and it's all because of the way you're looking at him, like he's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Unable to hold back any further, you rub his head through your slick folds. letting out a soft moan in responce. A low, deep sound escapes his throat at the feel of your wetness against his sensitive head. His hands dig into your hips, urging you on though he knows he should probably tell you to take it slow. "Shit..." his head falls back against the wall, eyes darkening with desire.

You hum in approval before teasing his head at your entrance, The obscene sound filling the room. His abs tighten as he fights back a thrust, watching you rub his head against your entrance, making his imagination run wild with images of sliding deep inside you. His hands flex on your hips, trying not to take control. "Baby..." He warns softly.

Without warning, you sink down onto his cock. The blissful pain flowing through your core, causing a whimpered moan to slip from your lips feeling him stretch you out deliciously. You sit still on his lap, letting your body adjust to his incredible size. “My god…” you whimper softly.

His back arches slightly at the sudden tight, wet heat. "Holy..." He swallows hard, hands flying to your thighs to spread them wider. He watches where you're connected, his thick length slowly disappearing inside you. He can feel every little movement you make, your inner muscles tightening around him. Slowly, you began riding him, your body moving upward and downwards at a perfect rhythm. His breath catches in his throat as you begin moving, the sensation unbelievable as your velvety walls squeeze him tightly. He watches in awe, hands stroking up and down your thighs, before sliding around to grip your ass, encouraging your rhythm.

"Fuck... Just like that,"

You nod in approval, chest heaving. Your pace quickens slowly but surely, the sound of skin clapping against each other, wet noise, and the smell distinctly of sex filling the quiet cabin.

His eyes roll back as he loses himself in the sight and feeling of you riding him. The sound of your wet pussy squeezing his cock, the way your breasts bounce with each movement, it's all too much. He lets out a string of curses, his hips bucking up to meet your downward motion.

You tighten your hold around his shoulders, breathe warm against his neck. You kiss, bite, lick gently on the delicate skin, leaving dark marks, letting out soft moans and whimpers here and there. He groans at the feeling on his neck, his large hands gripping your ass tightly as he thrusts up into you. The combination of your soft sounds and tight pussy is driving him wild. He can feel his orgasm building, his sac tightening as he gets closer and closer. He can your walls tighten around his length, making him twitch inside of you,

“I know you’re close…let go for me sweetheart.” You whisper, your voice is low, whiny…seductive in his ear.

Your seductive words and tight walls prove too much, sending him over the edge. With a low groan that seems to rumble through his entire body, he bursts, thick ropes of cum pumping deep inside you. His grip on your ass becomes almost bruising as spikes of pleasure course through him. You’re right behind him, his hot seed painting your walls, sending you right where you craved to be. Body shaking with pleasure, as your orgasm crashes through you.

He holds you tight, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rides out his climax, filling you to the brim with his release. When he finally starts to come down, he collapses back against the sofa, you still impaled on his softening length.

You chuckle softly, through a heavy breath. “Warmer now?” you say, grinding your hips slowly, riding out your high. He chuckles back, his strong arms around your waist, his fingers splaying out on your lower stomach possessively. "Much warmer," He murmurs, his hips twitching up into you gently, not ready to slip out just yet.

Letting your body rest on his for a few moments longer, you finally lift off of his lap, his release dripping down your thigh. “Oh, fuck.” you whimper. He looks down at the evidence of their passion dripping down your thigh, his release mingling with yours. He reaches out to hook his fingers around your thigh, pulling your leg over his lap again, keeping you close. "Damn..."

“Still hate me?”

He looks up at you with a smirk, his hand slowly trailing up and down your thigh while keeping your leg draped over his lap. "Only when you're being a brat," he jokes, squeezing your thigh gently. His eyes soften as he meets your gaze, a tender look passing between you both.

You laugh softly, leaning down to catch his lips. After all of that, you couldn’t believe you didn’t kiss him sooner. He returns the kiss, his arms wrapping around you again as if he never wants to let you go. When you finally break the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, holding you close. "I think I've been an idiot," he admits softly.

“Humor me, Rogers.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Okay, smart-ass, maybe I've been more of an idiot than usual. Thinking I could hate you, when really..." He pauses, searching your eyes. "...when really, you drive me fucking crazy." He notices the subtle furrowing your brows,a confused glint shining in your stunning eyes. He swallows hard, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he tries to put his jumbled thoughts into words. "You make me angry, you make me laugh, you make me..." He trails off, his jaw clenching briefly.

“Spit it out Steve.”

He lets out a frustrated groan, running his free hand through his hair. "What I’m trying to say is...you make me want things I shouldn't. Like this," He gestures between you two with his hand on your thigh. "I shouldn't want to kiss you every damn second." He looks at you with a conflicted expression, his blue eyes searching yours. "I shouldn't want to protect you, to make you smile, to hear your laugh... I shouldn't want to be near you all the time." He takes a deep breath, his voice dropping to a softer tone.

Your hands trail up his body, stopping to caress his jaw gently, eyes never leaving his. “Why do you?”

His eyes flutter closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your hand. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely shows. "Because... because I think I'm falling for you." The words are barely a whisper, but they hang heavy in the air between you.

You crash your lips onto his, the kiss slower, messier, full of undeniable feelings. His hand moves up to grip your neck while the other pulls you closer, kissing you deeply. When you finally part, he rests his forehead against yours again, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Good, because I’ve already fallen.”

"God, you're impossible.”

[leyavo]

Would love to see more of tech reader :D I’m such a sucker for hackers basically

Would love to see the boys accidentally meet her and don’t even realize that they’re talking with her

Yes tech!reader Jinx would be a menace. I think she’d mess with Soap the most and get on Ghost’s nerves (only once she knows them well enough and has been working with them for a while. She still takes her job seriously).

She’d be monitoring where they go on base by tracking their phones (without them knowing, but I recon Ghost would discover it hidden in an app).

Meets Gaz first on accident and he figures out it’s her from the picture of her cat on her phone screen. He’d definitely help her mess with the guys too.

Can see Price pulling Gaz and Jinx into his office like they’re getting scolded at school. Both staring down at their boots whilst the captain sighs, dismisses them and tells them to do something more useful than mess with their team out of hours.

Soap would be the last one to find out and Ghost will just give him a look, like you’re such a dumb ass.

Would back fire on her though when she goes to their base permanently and Ghost is following her around. Yeah how do you like that? She’ll just mess with his phone and make it run really slow so he gets frustrated and has to ask for her help.

Soap would make a comment about how even technology can go boom too and she’d back off a little, but Soap is laughing at how easy it was for her back down. She later filters his key words and restricts him from using them on the computer to get back at him. Boom even being restricted.

- just some thoughts on tech!reader :) thanks for the ask. You can read more [tech!reader here] - Leya

[punkrockmlchael]

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist

FanBoy!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader

(Both Eddie and Reader are 18+)

This fic is for: birthday boy pop-up event by @corrodedcoffinfest ; the prompt is “gift”

Prompt: Gift | Word Count: 8,897 | Rating: E | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader | Content Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Weed and Underage Drinking | Tags: Eddie Munson, Fanboy Eddie, Popstar Reader, Concert, Gift, Meet and Greet, Celebrity Crush

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Eddie is lowkey a Pervert with so many thoughts about you, Dirty Talking, Kinda a Fanboy kink if you can call it that? (Mutual between Eddie and Reader), Smut: Oral (Fem and Male Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating, Protected PinV, afab reader

Synopsis: Eddie was your biggest fan; it started after Gareth decided to drag him to your concert. Now, Eddie just doesn't shut up about you. So, the guys decide to come together and pitch in on an amazing Birthday gift for Eddie. This is based off of this blurb I had written and I had people ask for more of these two (including them actually meeting); so woo! Also this slowly turned into the longest fic I have ever written so, I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8.8k

Two months.

It had been two months since your newest album had been released to the public—copies of the vinyls sat in record stores far and wide while your top song played on every radio station on the top of every hour. 

It had been two whole months of Eddie Munson playing your album every day and night, no matter what he was doing within the four walls of his cluttered bedroom. 

Your pop sound and lyrics were a stark contrast to the usual heavy metal music that would ring through his room as he laid back on his bed, packing a bowl of the latest recommendation from his dealer. He’d play your music in the background while he messed around with his guitar, adding some heavy riffs to the poppy sounds that played from the record player. He’d sit on his bed, hand in his pants with his cock in his fist tightly; he’d stroke himself while your voice filled his ears, edging him closer and closer to release. The sound of your sweet and soft voice played late into the night, always seeming to help him drift off to sleep faster; and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to anyone that would listen. 

Anyone. 

No, really, the Hellfire boys were so fucking sick of listening to Eddie bring you up in every conversation–during lunch at the cafeteria, between battles at Hellfire campaigns, during a late night smoke session in his van by the lake–it didn’t matter the occasion, your name was always rolling off of his lips like a prayer. It was like he was dating you; he spoke about you so highly and intimately, there was never anything negative spoken about you by that boy.

He was just such a love sick little puppy that thought about you every single minute of his morning, afternoon and evening. And the Hellfire boys always just shared looks and groaned while rolling their eyes when Eddie started talking about you. And Eddie noticed their looks, he noticed their annoyance with him but that didn’t stop him from speaking about you… it had actually gotten to the point where he would join the conversations of the cheerleaders just so he could talk about you and your music. 

You released a new song? He ran to the girls to ask if they had heard it yet before gushing over how good it was because, you never seem to have any songs that suck.

You announced a tour or a show near them? He was telling all the girls that he was going to do anything in his power to make sure he would be at that show, seeing you perform live yet again.

And, let’s be real, all these cheerleaders thought that was funny as hell, but they always allowed Eddie to join their conversations; in fact, some of the cheerleaders went out of their way and started the conversations with him. He was just like them—he was a fanboy at heart and he couldn’t help that you were his current unconventional musical hyper fixation at the moment. 

It had been two whole months of your posters and pictures being placed on his walls, hung up so carefully to ensure that they wouldn’t rip or tear. And, every time the guys came over he was constantly getting attacked and questioned by those pieces of paper. The posters were everywhere, there was one above his bed, there was one above his record player, hell, this motherfucker had one on the ceiling above his bed. You were the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning, cheesy, right? And, fuck, did the Hellfire boys tease him about that. I mean, it’s not everyday that the stoner Metalhead had pictures of a pop princess on his wall. 

But, could you blame him? You just happened to look oh so good in those posters. 

And his favorite to this day was still the one of you in that short fucking black dress; he made sure that poster was above his record player so he could look at you while sitting on his bed. He just couldn’t help it—that picture didn’t leave anything to the imagination. The way your curves were so full and perfect, god, he wanted to run his hands all over your body, feeling every single curve and divet of your plush skin. The way your cleavage looked like it could pop out of that dress at any moment, god, he wanted to reach out and squeeze your breasts gently, hearing the small moans and whines escape your mouth while he massages them between his hands, thumbs running over your hardened nipples slowly. Eddie just loved that dress on you so much but he desperately wanted to see it on his bedroom floor–preferably in a pile with his own clothes while you were pressed up against him, moaning and groaning his name with each and every thrust he made. 

He had countless thoughts about you since he had first listened to that album and somehow each one seemed worse than the last. 

He knows, he knows–he’s a pervert. You don’t have to tell him twice.

Seriously, though, each thought was worse than the last. He’s imagined you on your knees in front of him, hand wrapping around the base of his cock while taking it in your pretty little mouth. He’s imagined you on your knees on his bed while he's thrusting into you from behind, so deep and fast that you are screaming his name. He’s imagined hovering over you, kissing the soft skin of your neck as he thrusts into you slow and deep, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s imagined you on top of him, riding on his cock with your tits bouncing in his face. He’s imagined quickies with you after your shows in the dressing room, directly backstage, in the bathroom. You name it he’s probably thought of it with you. 

Eddie was just so whipped and craved you. Craved to know how you felt, how you smelled, how you tasted, how you sounded… he craved to know every little thing about you; all your little imperfections, quirks, any skeletons you had hidden in your closet. He just craved to know you on such an intimate and personal level. But, sadly, you were just a celebrity crush who didn’t even know he existed. 

At least, until tonight.

Tonight you were back in Hawkins, Indiana for a concert. Tonight, on Eddie Munson’s 19th birthday, you were in Hawkins, Indiana. You were in his hometown for his birthday. God, it was like the stars were aligning to give him the best birthday he’s had in a while, if not ever.

Eddie had purchased his ticket for your show months ago, literally the day they went on sale; he had called Gareth and bought a ticket for both of them (and, Gareth wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, but he knew he had to support his best friend… especially on his birthday). 

He had his ticket, he had his best friend by his side, he knew your new songs front to back; he was beyond ready for your concert.

But, the Hellfire boys had a surprise gift for him. They all knew he had a concert ticket, hell, the entire school knew he had a ticket to your show tonight. But, what he didn’t have was a meet and greet VIP ticket… at least, until Jeff pulled some strings with his dad who worked at the venue you were going to be performing at. 

And, my god, you should have seen the look on Eddie’s face when he opened that gift. At first, he looked at the Hellfire boys with a questionable look, he already had tickets, he didn’t need them. But when he read the words “VIP Meet and Greet Ticket” with your name next to it? Yeah, he screamed. A literal scream left his mouth as he thought about meeting you, talking to you, hugging you. And Gareth shook his head because he knew he’d have to stand next to Eddie the entire time during this Meet and Greet. (But, come on, Gareth was also secretly excited to meet you and see you face to face as well; he was just… not excited to deal with Eddie the whole time…) 

So, now, Eddie stood next to Gareth waiting in the meet and greet line amongst a ton of younger girls and teenage girls that were all gushing to meet you. And Eddie was shaking from head to toe. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if you were mean? What if you hated him? What if you were a bitch? What if you aren’t like anything he has pictured you to be? What if everything he has thought about you was actually just something he made up and you weren’t that perfect little angel he has you made out to be?

He’s never met a celebrity before… are you really just a normal person like him? Do you enjoy going to the movies just like he did? Do you enjoy listening to music and getting high just like he did? Do you enjoy pancakes over waffles just like he did? Do you enjoy spending your free time with friends and family just like he did?

“Eddie,” Gareth said, looking at his friend. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Gareth, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm?” He replied, looking at Gareth.

“We’re next,” Gareth said, motioning to the nonexistent line in front of them. Eddie gulped, looking up in front of him. He caught a glimpse of you and your smile and panicked. 

“I can’t do this,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Gareth rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, you can. Please, you don’t shut up about her. At least talk to her.” Gareth replied, looking at his friend. “She’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“She might.”

“Next!” The security guard called, looking up Eddie and Gareth. He raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw the two boys but shrugged, allowing them through. The pair walked towards the stage where you were standing in front of a pale pink and purple backdrop with hearts all over it. 

God, why was Eddie’s head spinning? He felt hot. He felt dizzy. He felt like the room was slowly melting away from around him as he stood there, looking at you. It felt like the heavens were opening up and shining down on you as you stood in front of them, glowing like an angel, a goddess, a beautiful princess that he wanted to sweep off your feet with his wit, charm and good looks.

You looked up at Gareth and Eddie and smiled, waving them towards you. “Hi!” You cheered. “Thank you for coming, oh my gosh!” 

God, when you spoke it sounded like a chorus of angels signing around you. Eddie had never been to church, but he felt like he wanted to fall to knees to worship you and sing your praises.

Gareth stepped towards you but Eddie didn’t, he just stood there frozen. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were already clearly done for the concert—hair curled perfectly, not even moving as you moved your head side to side, beautiful soft pink eyeshadow with glitter overtop, making you sparkle each time you moved. You were wearing some baggy light blue jeans and a pink crop top that showed off your midriff perfectly. 

God, you were perfect. You were real, you were perfectly real, and you were standing right in front of Eddie, beckoning him towards you with those beautiful and subtle hand motions.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Gareth said softly, stepping closer to you. You smiled at him, opening your arms for a hug. Gareth didn’t decline, he wrapped his arms around you gently before pulling away, looking at Eddie. 

Eddie watched Gareth hug you before he stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Hi,” he spoke softly. 

You opened your arms and Eddie quickly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your body as he pulled you close to him. Your arms wrapped around him, smiling as you stood there embracing each other. His arms moved down to your waist gently as he held you against his soft and warm body. It felt like it was just you two in the room as you hugged, sparks flying around you like fireworks. He was so happy to be embracing you, to be holding you, and you allowed him to. You allowed him to hug you and hold you as long as he pleased; you didn’t pull away, you didn’t back away, you just hugged him tighter and smiled as he held you close to his body. 

After what felt like ages, Eddie finally pulled away from the hug, looking at you with a goofy and giddy grin on his face. Gareth glanced at Eddie and raised and eyebrow slightly before looking back at you. 

You smiled at them both, “thanks for coming to meet me and hang out!” You giggled, looking at them. “You probably know my name, but I don’t know yours…” You pouted, looking at the two boys in front of you that looked like they were at the wrong concert. Heavy metal band tees on, ripped jeans, boots on their feet; why on earth were they here to listen to you?

“I’m Gareth,” Gareth said softly, nodding with a smile. 

“I’m Eddie, it’s uh, it’s really cool to meet you. I’ve been listening to your music for quite some time and when I saw you were coming today I just had to come see you. Makes for a really cool birthday.” Eddie smiled, watching you. 

“Birthday? Oh my gosh, is today your birthday?” You asked, Eddie nodded slightly.

“Yeah, nineteen. Scary number,” he joked. 

“Our friend got him a meet and greet ticket for his birthday,” Gareth piped in, looking at Eddie. “He’s like, your number one fan.” 

“Oh my gosh, I was your birthday gift? That’s so cool!” You gushed, “thank you for listening to my music and supporting me, really, it means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love doing without people like you.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered out, nodding at you. “Anytime,” he added. 

You smiled, looking at the boys. “Well, can I interest you in a picture together? A signed poster? I have to make sure my number one fan has the best birthday ever.” 

Eddie blushed. You just acknowledged him and called him your number one fan. Fuck. 

“Yeah, that'd be cool,” Eddie smiled, Gareth nodded as well. 

“Perfect, come here and smile for the camera.” You said, motioning towards the boys. They walked to you, standing on either side of you. Gareth stood on your left and Eddie stood on your right. You wrapped your arms around their backs gently and looked at the camera and smiled with the boys. Once the photo was taken you looked at Eddie with a smile. “Want a picture of just the two of us?” You asked. He looked at you nervously. 

“You, uh, you’d do that for me? Can we? Really?” He asked. You nodded. 

“Of course! Consider it a birthday gift from me to you.” 

Gareth took this as a sign to step away, leaving you and Eddie together for your own picture. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s waist and smiled, leaning closer to him for the picture. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as a goofy grin appeared on his face.

After the photo was taken you hugged Eddie again, smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Eddie. It was nice to meet you and Gareth,” you said, glancing at Gareth. “I hope you both enjoy the show. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“Thanks, princess,” Eddie smiled. Gareth smiled as well, waving at you. The two grabbed their posters and were on their way while you turned towards your next fan here for meet and greet—a little girl and her mom. You were crouching towards the ground to get to the level of the little girl as she ran towards you for a hug. You hugged her tightly and smiled, rocking her back and forth gently. 

Eddie looked back and watched from afar as he left. 

Fuck, did he love you.  

“I’ll be back,” Eddie yelled to Gareth over the noise of the bar. Your concert was over and Eddie was bummed to leave, so Gareth suggested heading to the Hideout for a few drinks to celebrate his birthday. Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he’d rather be at home right now thinking about you with his pants around his ankles and his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time to your music.

Gareth nodded at Eddie, before going back to his conversation with Jeff. They were having a heated argument about something, but Eddie didn’t really listen to the details because he didn’t really care. That sounded rude, oh well, it was true. All he cared about right now was you. 

“Jack and Coke, please,” Eddie said as he walked up to the bar, away from Gareth and the other boys in the crowd. He grunted as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools. The bartender looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding to get him his drink. “Thanks, Mark,” Eddie added, watching the usual bartender go off to fix his drink. Once the drink was in his hand he raised it slightly, giving a nod to Mark as he began sipping on his drink. He looked around the bar, eyeing his surroundings as he usually did. 

Your concert was over, you had left the stage long ago and were probably a long ways away from Hawkins by now. Why would you stay here longer than you had to? Eddie sighed to himself, finishing the drink in his hand a little too quickly.

He had finally gotten to meet you, to hug you, to smell you. That was weird, yeah, he’s weird, but, did you know you smell like a mixture of roses and strawberries? Like, he was walking through a strawberry field with a bouquet of roses in his hands, on the way to give you said bouquet before falling to his knees to confess his undying love for you. Begging you for a chance to let him love you and hold you for as long as you would let him.

“Mind if I sit here?” A feminine voice rang through his ear on his left side. Eddie didn’t look up, he just nodded, mumbling what sounded like a yes as he stared down at the ice in the glass his hand was wrapped around tightly. “Thanks. Hi, I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please.”

That voice. Eddie knew that voice, he had listened to it everyday for the last two months. Not to mention, he basically drooled over it a few hours prior at the concert.

He stopped, looking up to his left. His eyes widened as he saw you sitting on the barstool next to him. Live and in the flesh.

God, you looked perfect.

Your hair was still holding its curl perfectly while resting against your shoulders, your sparkly stage makeup had been removed from your face leaving a more natural look but, damn, you still looked drop dead gorgeous. Instead of the pale pink sparkly mini skirt and matching top you wore during the concert, you now had the same baggy jeans from the meet and greet and a sweatshirt with your name on it. Wearing your own merchandise, huh? Damn, that’s hot.

You smiled as Mark slid the drink your way, leaving you with a flirty wink. “This one’s on the house, princess,” Mark said and Eddie shot him a glare. 

“Oh, why, thank you.” You replied, grabbing the glass in your hand. You brought it to your lips and smiled, sipping on the drink slowly. You glanced at Eddie, nodding at him with that adorable smile of yours. Fuck. “Hi, uh… Eddie, right?” You asked, remembering him all too well from your Meet and Greet earlier in the night. And, I mean, how could you forget him? Not many others showed up to your show with a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and chains.

Not many people showed up like that but, damn, did you love it.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Uh, yeah, that’s me… Eddie,” he replied, nodding as he set his empty glass down on the bar, releasing his grip from it. “You, uh, remembered my name?” He asked, turning his body towards you slightly in the bar stool.

You smiled, nodding your head before sipping on your drink. “It's a little hard not to remember the name of my biggest fan.” You murmured, setting your drink down on the bar. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing, really good, actually. You always seem to kill it on stage…” Eddie said softly, taking in your appearance yet again. He just couldn't believe you were here in the Hideout and sitting right next to him. He was so scared that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you and ruin any chance he may have with you. Because, he totally believes he has a chance with you, yeah. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re here and sitting next to me but… I kind of figured you’d be on a tour bus driving as far away from Hawkins as possible right now. You know, getting ready for the next concert of your tour.” He rambled on, stopping at the end to take a breath.

You giggled softly, turning your body towards him. Your left elbow rested on the bar, your chin resting on your palm as a smile appeared on your face. “Why, thank you. I already said it once but, thank you for coming to my show tonight, it means alot. And, I don’t know; I don’t have another show for a couple days so I decided to stay in town for a bit… is that not a good idea? Is it not too fun here in Hawkins?” Your right hand reached for your drink, taking a couple sips as Eddie shrugged.

“Hawkins really isn’t that fun,” he admitted, smiling at the way you gave your full attention to him. Fuck. “But, I don’t know, with a gorgeous girl like you floating around… it might get better.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to you. You blushed softly, smiling at him. You finished your drink and set the glass on the bar. 

“Yeah? Is that so?” You asked, looking at Eddie again. You were able to actually take your time looking at him now, unlike earlier. Pretty brown doe eyes, beautiful yet nervous smile, long and shaggy curls that fell into his face a bit until he repositioned his head. 

“Absolutely. You might make it worth staying here,” he nodded. You smiled again, looking up at Mark as he came over towards you two, asking about drinks. 

“Yeah, I’ll take another Rum and Coke. And a drink here for my friend, Eddie, as well please.” Mark nodded at your words before walking off to make you and Eddie both another drink.  

“Woah, you don’t need to buy me a drink, princess. I’ll survive.”

“Actually, I do. Consider it a birthday gift,” you smiled, looking at Eddie with that stupid perfect grin on your face. “Speaking of, how was your birthday?” You asked, “I’ll have to admit, I’m still feeling slightly honored that you decided to spend your birthday with me.” 

“You already gave me a birthday gift today,” he argued, referring to the solo picture of the two of you .from earlier. “But, my birthday was perfect. Actually, I didn’t think it could get better but, somehow, with you next to me… it’s definitely going to go down in history as the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Eddie replied, smiling widely at you. “Not everyday you get to spend your day with your favorite popstar, you know?”

“Oh, I’m your favorite popstar, huh?” You giggled, leaning closer to him. Fuck, that giggle. 

“Well, you’re definitely up there on my list.” Eddie smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. Mark walked back over and set the drinks down on the bar before he walked away again. You both reached for your glasses, taking them in your hands. 

“Well,” you said, raising your glass. “Happy birthday, Eddie. And, cheers to many more for you.” You and Eddie clinked your glasses together before taking a sip out of them. 

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. “Make it a note to come to Hawkins on my birthday every year?” He teased. 

“I'll see what I can do,” you responded with a flirty wink.

“You better,” Eddie replied with a goofy smile. You sipped on your drink more, smiling as you looked around the small bar.

“This place is cool,” you commented, looking back at Eddie. “And, you hate Hawkins?” He smiled.

“Not that I hate Hawkins,” he said softly. “More so that it’s a little… boring. Not much really happens here.” He added, shrugging. He watched you with a smile on his face as you continued to look around the bar, your eyes catching the stage in the corner.

“Is that a stage?” You asked, motioning towards the corner as you sipped on your drink. Eddie’s gaze followed your and he nodded, smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah! Tons of local bands play there every week, including mine. We play here every Tuesday night.”

“Woah, you're in a band?” You asked, suddenly a bit more interested in the boy sitting next to you. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, blushing slightly as you took more interest in him. “It’s, uh, it’s called Corroded Coffin; we play some more heavy metal sounds. I’m a guitarist and lead singer in it…” Eddied replied, nodding at you.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds cool,” you giggled, finishing your drink. You set the empty glass on the bar and looked at him, “heavy metal, huh? What makes me stand out so much that you listen to my silly little pop music then?” 

Eddie chuckled nervously, finishing his drink as well. “Well, you’re very pretty, you have an amazing voice and I do have a soft spot in my heart for pop music.” He replied, setting his empty glass down next to yours. “Guilty pleasure music, I guess you can say…”

“Well, I’m honored to be part of your guilty pleasure music.” You smiled, looking at him. “Oh, and I’d absolutely love to see and hear some Corroded Coffin songs, if you’ll show me, that is. I actually do enjoy listening to a heavier metal sound from time to time.” Eddie blushed, looking at you shocked.

“You listen to heavy metal?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It’s funny, I make pop music but I tend to not listen to that in my free time, actually.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as he learned more about you. “Huh. It appears there is a lot that I don’t know about you, pop princess.”

“Yeah, I get that alot,” you nodded. “So, you play guitar, huh? That’s a skill I wish I had, I’ve been pushing myself to learn but, I just have very little motivation.” You admitted softly.

“I could teach you,” Eddie suggested, looking at you with a goofy smile. “If you want me to, at least…” 

“I think I would love that, Eddie,” you giggled, looking at him. 

He smiled at your giggle, looking at you. “You’re really pretty,” he said softly, looking at you. You blushed, smiling softly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know that Mr. Metalhead?” You replied, causing Eddie’s cheek to turn a slight shade of pink.

And with that you were both leaning closer to each other, eyes glancing at each other’s lips as you moved closer and closer together. Time stopped. Eddie’s ears were ringing and he felt like he was vibrating. You were so close to him, so close. He could see the small freckles on your cheeks, wanting to connect them all like little constellations. He could see the tiny baby hairs that didn’t want to stay down no matter how much hairspray you used, wanting to push them back and play with them gently. He could see the small scar that sat on your forehead from when you face planted on stage one night. He could see everything, and you were so beautiful. 

You smiled your little smile, tilting your head to the side as your lips pressed against his softly. Eddie sighed, the feeling of your lips against his enough to make him weak in the knees. He moved his lips against yours, kissing you back softly as his hand moved to the side of your face. He held your cheek, caressing it even, as his thumb ran along the smooth skin. Your hand moved towards his face as well, pulling him closer during the kiss.

He suddenly forgot where he was. All the noises of the bar around; the clinking of glasses, the yelling of partiers, the sounds of men hitting on women… it was all gone. There was no one else in the room. 

It was just you and him. The way it was meant to be—the way he wanted it. The way he dreamed it would be for the rest of his life; you and him against the world. 

Eddie felt like he was dreaming. Or, he died and went to heaven. He wasn’t entirely sure which was true but he was counting his blessings, and mentally thanking Jeff for those meet and greet tickets because; fuck. That gift just keeps on giving. Literally. 

He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but, he didn’t fucking care about the logistics of all of this.

All Eddie cared about was the feeling of your lips on his neck as he struggled with his keys to the front door of the trailer. That, and the fact that his uncle wasn’t home, otherwise this would be awkward.

He finally got his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He stumbled inside the trailer, pulling you with him. He kicked the front door shut behind you both and led you to his bedroom, pinning you up against the back of the door. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, lips crashing into yours desperately. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back, your lips moving against his with the same desperate want and need. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied, fingers moving through his curls gently. He groaned, his hands finding your hips. He pushed his hips against yours, grinding against you slightly. A slight moan left your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back against the door. “Fuck, Eddie,” you sighed.

He moaned a little too loudly when he heard you say his name like that, a literal pitiful moan left his mouth as he kissed down your jawline to your neck. He attacked your neck with kisses and nips, his hips still moving against yours with a slow rhythm. “God, princess, you sound so good saying my name like that,” he mumbled, biting down on your neck a little rougher. ”You don’t know how bad I want you.”

You whined at the bite, eyes opening to look down at Eddie. Your fingers ran through his curls, tugging them gently before you looked around his room. Your eyes caught sight of the posters of you on his wall and an accidental laugh left your lips. Eddie pulled away from your neck and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong?” He continued, hoping you didn’t think this was a huge mistake. 

You giggled a little, shaking your head. “No, sorry, just, you have posters of me on your wall?” You asked, glancing back at the posters that sat above his bed and above his record player. 

Eddie’s cheeks turned a bright red as he turned his head, glancing at the two posters you were talking about. “Look, I just, they came with your vinyl!” He replied, trying to prove a point. “What else am I supposed to do? Let them sit in my closet and collect dust, I mean, look at you!” He added, frantically hoping this wasn’t a weird deal breaker for you. 

Your right hand moved to his face, caressing his cheek gently before you turned his head back to face you. “You’re cute, you know that?” You asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “A perfect little fanboy,” you added, kissing his lips again. ”My fanboy.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he nodded, looking at you. “Definitely your fanboy,” he replied, kissing you again. “I wanna make you feel good, please, can I?” He asked, pulling you towards his bed. You nodded, following after him. 

He tugged your sweatshirt up, pulling it up and over your body before discarding it on the floor. He laid you back on his bed gently and crawled on top of you, kissing your lips softly. Slowly, he kissed down your neck and over your chest. Eddie left soft and sweet kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right above the button of your jeans. He looked up at you, brown eyes glowing and waiting for you to give him the okay to continue.

When you nodded your head, he undid your baggy jeans. You lifted your hips gently, allowing him easier access. He pulled your jeans off gently, tossing them on the floor with your sweatshirt. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you. 

His eyes roamed over your body, committing everything to memory as you laid in front of him in your bra and panties. 

“You’re so beautiful, princess. Fuck,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Can I taste you? Please? Been dying to know what you taste like,” he begged, looking at you. 

“Fucking hell, yes. Please,” you replied, watching him pull your panties down. He left soft and sweet kisses on your inner thighs, slowly pushing your legs apart. He looked up at you as he licked a small stripe up your folds, moaning to himself as he tasted you. 

Fuck. You tasted better than he had imagined. So sweet, so… perfect. 

He licked up your folds again, his hands moving under your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, thighs now resting on his shoulders. You moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as you watched him. He left soft kisses on your clit, looking up at you as he did so. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you mumbled, tugging on his curls gently. “You’re good with your mouth, ah,” you added. He groaned at your words, tongue flicking over your clit gently before he sucked on it. His right hand moved closer to your core, his pointer finger and middle fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You gasped at the feeling, back arching up slightly as he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you while simultaneously sucking on your clit. “Jesus, Eds,” you whined, pulling on his hair tighter. He groaned against you, speeding up his movements with his fingers. 

“God,” he sighed, looking up at you. “God, you’re so… hot. You’re just so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful, you sound so pretty when you’re saying my name like that. You look so pretty like that. You’re just so… perfect.” Eddie said, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he bit down gently, leaving a small mark on your inner thigh. 

You moaned, grinding against his fingers. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up as yours?” You asked softly, watching him leave more bite marks across your thighs. He moaned against your thigh, his hips thrusting against the bed gently at the thought. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding up at you. “Gonna make you all mine.” He bit down on the plush skin of your thigh again, his fingers curling inside of you as he pumped them. He kissed back up your body, face now inches from yours as he slowed the movements of his fingers. He pumped them slowly, curling them with each pump as he kissed your lips gently.

You kissed him back, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your fingernails ran down his back gently, scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “Eddie–ah,” you whined, moving your hips up again, grinding against his fingers as he curled them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. “Gonna, ah, shit, gonna cum,” you moaned, kissing his lips a bit rougher than before. 

“Fuck, princess, cum for me,” Eddie groaned against your lips, speeding up his movements again. You whined his name, head falling back on his pillows as you clenched around his fingers, releasing your juices onto them with a loud moan. He pumped his fingers a bit more, helping you ride out your high as you fell back on his bed. You caught your breath, looking up at him with a sigh. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your juices and moaned, looking at you. “Good god, baby, you taste amazing.” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “yeah?” You asked, smiling slightly. You sat up carefully and kissed his lips. “I bet you taste even better,” you mumbled, reaching for his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. You pushed him back onto his bed and straddled his lap, kissing his lips desperately. Eddie kissed you with the same desperation as his hands moved behind your back, undoing your bra gently. You slid your bra down your body, throwing it to the ground. 

You left soft and sweet kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. When you reached his jeans you left soft kisses on his erection through the denim, looking up at him as you did. You left a flirty wink before you ran your nails along his lower stomach, running over the soft hair that sat directly above his waistband.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he watched you, groaning at the sight in front of him. He had dreamed of this moment more times than he could count but never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Like, really? Were you real right now? Or was he passed out at the bar in the Hideout?

“Can I take these off?” You asked, looking up at him as you played with the hem of his jeans. He nodded, pushing your hair out of your face gently before running his fingers through it.

“Please, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You undid his jeans quickly, pulling them down. He moved his hips up, making it easier for you to free him from his denim pants. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor with a thud. Your nails ran up his thighs and over the fabric of his boxers before you slid your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down gently. 

As you tugged his boxers down, his rock hard erection sprung free, hitting his stomach. You looked up at him, sinking down between his thighs.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of his cock gently. “So pretty and so big,” you commented, pumping him in your hand slowly. “Not sure if I can take all of this in my mouth but, I really want to try,” you mumbled, looking up at him as you kissed the tip of his cock. “That okay?” You asked, your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie moaned, watching you. “More than okay, fuck. Please, do anything you want to me, I’m yours.” You smiled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently. You sucked on it slowly, moaning around him. Eddie whined, his hand running through your hair again as he gathered it gently at the back of your head. 

You moved your head down slowly, taking more of him in your mouth. He watched you, pulling your hair gently as you moved to take more and more of him in your mouth. You made it down about three quarters of the way before you gagged slightly, pulling back from him. You pumped him in your hand and looked up at him. “You’re so big, I’m not sure I can do it,” you said softly, moving back to suck on the tip of his cock gently.

“Fuck, princess, that’s okay,” he groaned, tugging on your locks again. You bobbed your head slightly, taking more of him in your mouth. 

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing; this was definitely everything he imagined and more. Sure, he’d pictured you sucking his cock, but he never thought it would be too big for you to take fully in your mouth. God, you were somehow boosting his ego without even trying. Your sweet eyes looked up at him as you struggled to take him all in his mouth. Every so often you’d gag around him and pull back before going back to what you were doing. 

He moaned every time, watching you proceed to go deeper and deeper for him. He pulled your hair tighter and closed his eyes, groaning as you got him all in your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. He bucked his hips up, causing you to gag loudly but stay where you were, trying to fight through the pain and uncomfort.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” Eddie groaned as you went back to bobbing your head slightly. He moaned your name as you took all of him in your mouth again, and he thrusted his hips up against your mouth. He tugged your hair so tightly as he panted, releasing ropes of cum into your mouth. You groaned around him, swallowing it all before you pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his cock again. “Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. “That was better than I had ever imagined.”

“You’ve… imagined that?” You asked, tilting your head slightly as you sat back on your knees on his bed. Eddie sat up, his face turning a bright red color yet again. Damn, he was really out here exposing himself to you, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “…no?” He said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “No, because that would be weird and not right.” He mumbled, a giggle escaped your lips as you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“You sure?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Because, I think you’re lying.” You mumbled, fingers trailing small circles on his chest. 

“And if I am?” He asked softly, hands moving to hold your hips. 

“I think that’s really hot…” you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He groaned against your lips and kissed you back, pulling you closer to him. He laid you back on the bed softly and hovered over you, looking down at you. 

“You are just so incredibly beautiful,” he mumbled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. “I still cannot believe this is happening,” he added, his right hand roaming over your body. He moved up to your chest, squeezing your left breast gently as he continued to kiss down your neck and upper chest. He kissed over right breast, tongue flicking over your hardened nipple. You moaned softly, hands tangling into his hair gently. 

“You’re so sweet,” you purred, tugging on Eddie’s locks. He moaned at the feeling and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it softly. You gasped at the feeling, head falling back on the pillows. “Fucking shit, Eddie, I think I’m going to need you to fuck me.” You mumbled, Eddie’s head shot up, looking down at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up gently. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, moving towards his bedside table for a condom.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, running your fingers over his bicep gently as he fished for a condom. “Need you to fuck me,” you added, nails scratching up and down his muscular biceps more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, opening the condom. He stood up, pumping his cock a few times before he slid the condom on slowly. He stood at the edge of his bed and grabbed your thighs gently, pulling you towards him. You squealed softly, looking up at him as he lifted your thighs, moving closer towards you. He teased your folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed in slowly, moaning as he felt you around him. 

You gasped at the feeling, looking up at him. “Eddie,” you whined softly, eyes closing slightly.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned, filling you up completely. He stayed still for a second before he started to thrust in and out of you slowly. He pulled you closer and your legs wrapped around his body, holding him against you. “Shit,” he mumbled, hands moving down to your breasts. He squeezed your breasts, massaging them as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “So pretty like this, fuck. You look so pretty taking my cock,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You groaned and kissed him back, hands wrapping around his wrists as he continued to thrust. He picked up the pace a bit, thrusting faster and deeper as he squeezed your breasts harder. 

“Ah, fuck, Eddie, shit,” you moaned, moving your hips against him as he thrusted. “Shit, fuck, you’re so big. You fill me up, god, fuck, made just for me, my perfect fanboy,” you whined, lips moving against his with desperate kisses. He moaned louder, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m your fanboy,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently before he tugged on it. “You’re my popstar, favorite one ever. Taking my cock so good and sounding so pretty, fuck, your moans sound prettier than your music.”

Eddie released your breasts from his hands and moved his left hand down to where your bodies were connected, rubbing slow and tight circles on your clit. A loud moan escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, looking up at him. “Eddie, shit,” you moaned, nails scratching down his biceps again. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting faster. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on your favorite fanboy’s cock?”

You moaned, nodding your head repeatedly. “Yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my favorite fanboy’s cock,” you said blissed out as you felt your high come closer. Eddie made one more deep thrust and felt you clench around him. Your head fell back on the bed as you released around his cock, whining at the feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“God, fuck, you’re so pretty baby,” Eddie groaned, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“Yeah? Fuck, cum for me pretty boy,” you sighed, feeling completely blissed out. “My perfect little fanboy.” Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him close to you and inside of you. Eddie moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as he released into the condom. He made a couple more thrusts before he groaned. Your legs fell back down and Eddie pulled out of you, helping you steady yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

He placed his hands out for you to grab and helped you sit up on the bed gently. You smiled slightly and sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “You’re so perfect,” he sighed, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. He reached for your panties and his Metallica shirt, handing them to you before he slid the condom off, tying it up before throwing it in the trash. You accepted the shirt and panties, sliding them both on before falling back on his bed. He chuckled slightly, looking at you. “You okay, princess?” He asked, you looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, you just took a lot out of me, fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, smiling at him. “And, you’re coming to bed with me… right?” You asked, he shuffled towards you and smiled.

“As if that’s even a question.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on before laying down in the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

You moved towards him, a smile on your face as you rested your head on his chest. He left a soft kiss on the top of your head and hummed, closing his eyes.

You giggled softly and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. “What?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face gently with his finger tips. 

“A poster on the ceiling? Really?” You giggled more, pointing to the poster of you on the ceiling. He blushed softly, groaning as he covered his face with his hand. 

“Please don’t start with me,” he mumbled. 

“My perfect little fan boy, huh?” You teased and he turned bright red. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, leaving another soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Oh, I will.” You said, snuggling into his side more as you closed your eyes again. 

Eddie held you close to his body and smiled a little. Tonight was different for him, he didn’t need to listen to your music to help him sleep. Instead, he was able to hold you in bed, listening to your breathing and soft snores.

Yeah, this was way better. 

Eddie woke up the next morning to some knocks on the front door of the trailer. He grunted, rolling out of bed gently. He found a dirty shirt from the floor and slid it on over his body. He stretched, groaning as the knocking continued. He looked at your sleeping form and smiled, remembering everything that happened the night before. He leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your head before he shifted towards the front door of the trailer.

He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see his uncle, huh, must be working a double. 

Eddie opened the front door, Gareth and Jeff standing on the other side. “What?” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face as he leaned against the door.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Gareth teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just checking in on you,” Jeff added, shooting Gareth a glare.

“I’m fine, why?” Eddie yawned, looking at his friends with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? You left us at the Hideout and just disappeared.” Gareth shot back with a snark tone.

“Damn, chill,” Jeff said, looking at Gareth. “It was his birthday, he probably got wasted and came home to sleep it off.”

Eddie went to open his mouth and reply but he was cut off by you. You called his name and walked towards him in your panties and his Metallica shirt from the night before.

“Eddie,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You left me alone in bed,” you added, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie said with a small smirk, arm wrapping around your shoulder gently. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, looking up at his friends. You remembered Gareth but didn’t know his other friend. “Oh!” You smiled, nodding at his friends. “Gareth, right? And, I’m so sorry, but I don't believe we have met yet,” you added, looking at Jeff.

“Gareth, yeah,” Gareth replied, staring at you.

“Jeff,” Jeff said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and shook it gently.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good to see you again, Gareth.” You smiled at the boys before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Come back to bed when you can, yeah?” You asked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you turned back towards his room. 

Gareth and Jeff both stared at you as you walked away, retreating back to Eddie’s room with a slight shake of your hips. 

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth said, looking back at Eddie. “Seriously?! You took her home?!” He questioned, the sound of jealousy evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, I did; so what?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door. 

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, still looking in the direction you went.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, remembering something. “Thanks for those VIP meet and greet tickets, Jeffy boy.” Eddie smirked. “Now, I must be going, have a good day.” 

Gareth and Jeff just shared a look as Eddie closed the door in their faces, making his way back to his room to be with you again.

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @earthlyangelbby ; @jasminelafleur

[girliemattitude]

— - I’m never gonna love again - — M.S - —

Based on: Cowboy like me by; Taylor Swift

A/N: idk how to feel about this, I haven’t written in so long but hey, it’s something.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first time it happened, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.You were at an influencer afterparty, one of those overhyped events with blinding lights, overpriced drinks, and far too many people pretending not to care about being seen. You’d gone because it was expected of you—because your management had dropped a subtle “you should really be there” into the conversation that morning.

He wasn’t the type you’d usually notice in a crowd like that. Matt was quieter than the others, the kind of guy who hung back and let his brothers take the spotlight. There was a stillness to him, an intensity in the way he observed the room like he saw right through the performances. His silence wasn’t awkward or shy—it was calculated, deliberate. He didn’t need to talk much; people gravitated to him anyway.

You didn’t think he’d even noticed you at first. But then, halfway through the night, you found yourselves waiting for the same elevator.He glanced at you, his face impassive, but there was something in his eyes—sharp, assessing, like he was piecing you together without needing a single word. The elevator doors slid shut, and the hum of the music faded into silence.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice low and even.

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “What gave it away?”

His lips curved into the faintest smirk. “The way you’re holding that drink like it’s your only friend.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s not like there’s much real company here.”

For the first time, his gaze softened, something unreadable flickering across his face. “You’re not wrong.”

The silence stretched, thick with tension. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly you were pressed against the mirrored wall, his lips crashing into yours. His hands gripped your waist like he was staking a claim, his quiet demeanor unraveling in the heat of the moment.

The elevator dinged, jolting you back to reality. He stepped away, his breathing uneven, his expression unreadable once more.

“So,” he said, his tone flat but his eyes dark, “do we toast to our fake smiles or our fake personas?”

“Both,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

And just like that, it began.

After that night, your paths kept crossing, almost like fate—or something more dangerous. There were always stolen glances at events, the occasional sarcastic comment exchanged in passing. But it didn’t stop there. Soon, there were secret texts, late-night calls, and whispered arrangements to meet in places where no one would think to look.You became experts at evasion. Matt was a natural at it—always slipping in through side doors, dodging cameras with ease. You learned to follow his lead, always arriving separately, never staying too long. You found yourselves in each others beds and on his car, parked far away when your schedules aligned.

“I hate that we have to hide like this,” you murmured as you get dressed on the passenger seat.

“You don’t really hate it,” he said, his voice calm, steady. “If we weren’t hiding, it wouldn’t be real.”

It was maddening how he could be so composed, even when you felt like you were burning from the inside out.

Neither of you said it out loud, but it was there, hanging in the air between you—a silent truth that felt heavier with every meeting. This wasn’t just lust anymore. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way you found yourself waiting for his texts like they were lifelines—it was more than either of you wanted to admit.

“You’re the only one who gets it,” he said one night, his voice low as you lay beside him in the dark of your bedroom. “What it’s like to have everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you traced the lines of his hand, memorizing the way it felt against yours. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice barely a whisper. “I get it.”

And you did. The pressure, the expectations, the need to be perfect even when you felt like you were falling apart. With him, you didn’t have to smile for the cameras. You didn’t have to be anything other than what you were—messy, flawed, human, but both of you knew what would happen if anyone found out. His fans would hate you for stealing him away, and yours would hate him for not being good enough. Public opinion would flip like a switch, turning the adoration you both relied on into scrutiny and judgment.

They’d only see the cracks in the perfect personas you’d built, the storylines that didn’t fit the glossy narrative they wanted from you.

To them, it wouldn’t be love. It wouldn’t even be real. It would be considered a relationship based on getting more views and clout. The flawless image you both worked so hard to maintain would shatter, and the fallout would be merciless.

And maybe that was why neither of you ever said it out loud. Why you stayed hidden, dancing on the edge of something you couldn’t define. Because admitting the truth—that it was more than lust, more than convenience—would only make it harder to let go. And the world would never let you hold on, it was meant to end, you both knew that and you also knew that you’ll never gonna love again, not in that way.

[see-arcane]

Seeing the Nosferatu and Creature of The Black Lagoon remake summaries reminds me that heterosexual Monster movie summaries are like "The intense and tragic and erotic encounter between a Lagoon creature/vampire/demon/victorian zombie and a woman he is infatuated with." When will the monster be the woman.

Seriously. So fucking seriously. The most I can think of off the top of my head are one-off bogeywomen who never brush the mainstream.

First off, monster women. Not sexy waifu vampire girl with baby fangs meets Average Everyman and they do kissing about it. Real monster women. Who are decayed, or ugly, or inhuman, or outright horrifying. Even just a visibly cadaverous revenant babe ala Warm Bodies' R or Lisa Frankenstein's Creature. Where are they? Where the hell are the actually monstrous monster women?

I know The Ritual has Moder the Jotunn and her badass giant chimera god utterly non-human look. She does some killing, as one does. But we only actually learn she was female from outside sources, not in the film itself. When Moder is referred to as 'a god' the assumption is male, rather than just calling her 'a goddess.' Feels like a cheat.

There's Jenifer from Masters of Horror, based off the comic from Creepy by Bruce Jones and Bernie Wrightson. Her whole deal is being 1) Unavoidably uncannily grotesque and 2) Capable of some depraved shit via simple violence or using her psychic ability to orchestrate some very very unpleasant intimate interludes (and tragic demises).

I know the V/H/S movies have gotten a good handful in, some Medusas and body horror babes, but always in the form of those brief one-shot anthology bits. There and gone. They had an exception with Lilith (the type who starts as Pretty Girl and transforms into Something Else) who appears in the first movie with "Amateur Night" and got her own standalone movie with Siren, which I thought was a really well done sexual/amorous horror story--one in which the woman is the unambiguous predatory monster seeking and assaulting a man as her human crush-target. ...And is also barely known to the horror community.

There's the nightmare shit that happened to the protagonist of Bite. The full movie is here. Do not--Do NOT--watch if you have any phobias to do with insects, disease, reproduction or slow transformative body horror. This is the daughter of Cronenberg's The Fly and The Metamorphosis' pure misery. Good god.

And...that's it. That is the full roster of visibly monstrous females on film I have in my memory.

Second thing: Romance. Human Guy and Monster Lady.

Literally the only thing that comes to mind is 1) Corpse Bride with the Most Hourglassed and Beestung Pout Lipped Cadaver You Have Ever Seen and 2) Spring (2014). The latter I haven't seen yet, but the premise is very clearly Legit Monster Babe and Smitten Lover. Kudos.

Everything else I've come across is just Hot Chick has Fangs and the guy is a guy. No genderswapped Beauty and the Beast. No scaly hulking Ladycreature of the Lagoon pining for a young man taking a swim. No eldritch/demonic horror-woman forming a relationship with a male admirer who has heart eyes despite (or because of) her power and monstrosity.

There is no equivalent of Nosferatu with a female villain being gruesome yet intoxicating to her young man victim.

There is no equivalent of Lisa Frankenstein or otherwise romantic fairy tale between a scary bogeywoman and a handsome--dare we dream, pretty--gentleman.

It simply does not happen in the mainstream and rarely if ever in the niche indie efforts.

And I'd ask why, but like. We know why.

Who wants to see a frightening woman as the powerful villain?

Who wants to see a frightening woman as a romantic partner?

Who wants to see a frightening woman?

[yokelish]

Solas sees himself in Rook is the lie in Veilguard I cannot get over.

"Solas sees himself in Rook, perhaps even things he doesn't like to acknowledge", they said. There are no two people more diametrically opposed than Rook and Solas. Outside of Rook doing that thing that pissed off a bunch of people in some sort of authority over them, there is nothing between the two to connect them. All their parallels are utterly superficial.

Well, they are both leaders! Solas lead armies, agents, spies against seven powerful mages with armies, agents and worshipers of their own. He had to be ruthless, to sacrifice, forge alliances knowing he'll break them, to manipulate. His friendship with Felassan suffers because it's exceptionally difficult to be emotionally open with a person you give orders to, who you know might die in your name, for your cause, willingly. Solas know it. That's why Felassan writes about how Solas is planning something and is not telling anyone, even his closest friend. It's nothing good. Both know that and neither can do anything about it because there is massive wall between them made of their complex relationship, their cause, Solas' devotion to Mythal and his vengeance for her murder. Solas cannot be a true friend to Felassan just as Felassan can be a true friend to Solas. Love and care are there there but there are things bigger than them and their relationship at play. Solas had to go along with the Dread Wolf narrative even if he hated it. Rook has to prove they are a really good guy to factions and therapyspeak their team of professionals into working under a lot of pressure. Rook suffers none of the consequences of leadership unless they utterly ignore their companions' side quests. What does Rook lose? Their moral codex? Not once did they have to do anything morally questionable. Their relationships? Hardened mechanics is utterly meaningless in the narrative. Since Hardened mechanics is the only thing that was brought from Origins, it's fair to compare it to Origins: Neve is not Leliana who becomes ruthless and thinks murder might actually be an answer to many questions; Lucanis isn't Alistair who accepts that he must become First Talon. What does Rook lose? One companion who willingly sacrifices themselves.

Solas made choices. Stupid ones, yes, but choices. His actions had terrible consequences. Rook is not active in the narrative. They only react. The choice between cities is so in the moment that it isn't about what Rook is willing to sacrifice, what terrible consequence they are more likely to accept, it is not about "all choices are terrible and you have to choose" but reacting to having to choose at all with very little information based on your companions 3 seconds explanation before they ran away. In inquisition, the choice between mages and templars is also quite early in the game. But it influences how you meet Cole and Dorian, it influences who comes to attack Haven, which enemy you are more frequently encounter in the world. Antivan Crows and Rivain apparently have business dealings going all the time, about supplies and Antaam, but after a dragon attacks Treviso, the Lords of Fortune do not offer a dragon hunter (who is big Crow fan) to help out their assassin business partners and consequently Rook. No, it's on Harding to find the dragon hunter. They see a blighted dragon in D'Meta Crossing, hear Ghilan'na speak through it, and not even say that this might be a big fucking problem very quickly and no one nearby knows how to handle it. It's after a city gets blighted that Solas is telling you to find a dragon hunter. Thank you, dear, but I knew that 6 hours ago. Rook somehow didn't tho. The choice between the cities is utterly superfluous, influencing only your gameplay (which companion can't heal you, which city's side quest get cut, which merchants aren't available) rather than the world. Minrathous is no better for fending off Elgar'nan in the end whether you save it or not. UNFORTUNATELY, due to AMA and John Epler, they resolved the artificial moral quandary of this choice as well. Because the Blight in Minrathous will calcify and die at the end of the game, the blight in Treviso will not. Thanks, I hate it. Though the Archon you choose is very much aware that there are blighted gods with an equally blighted dragons but no preparations for any war marches, attacks, sieges will be made. Antiva doesn't reconsider its governance after having a city invaded and blighted. You chose Treviso? Cool. MInrathous' blight will die at the end, Dorian will become Archon and outlaw slavery and cults. Crows rule unchallenged. You chose Minrathous? New Archon is outlaw slavery and cults, your blighted mage will be just fine, Crows rule unchallenged, not a single Talon is blighted. Sad about Treviso, though, that place might just have to be Chernobyl of Antiva.

Solas had moral complexity. Rook doesn't. Varric handpicked the goodest, goofiest little guy to go against a morally dubious ancient being (MW Rook seems to have committed some cultural taboo but don't worry that will not influence how Emmrich views you. MW is EASIER to gain rep with instead of harder. Strife being that way about VJ Rook who saved lives of their people is nonsensical because Strife sided with helping a human mage instead of cutting off said mage's limbs to free himself. LoF background is nonsensical. Why a bunch of pirates give a shit what nobles think? Because trade? They trade fucking lost treasures, not freshly caught salmon. If not those guys, it's gonna be the other guys. Every nation has insufferable rich people who like to put "exotics" into their home decor.) WHY Varric picked the goodest, goofiest little guy in Thedas to stop an ancient mage who fooled an entire organization (and possibly his lover) a decade ago before disappearing into mist that Spymaster of Inquisition couldn't find him until he wanted to be found makes no sense. The man who has lived and actively participated in the shit happening in Kirkwall and Inquisition. The man who fucking lies for a living. Yes, Varric is a overall a good man, but he isn't the paragon of goodness, far from it. It's not Varric who approves you helping refugees in Inquisition. In fact, Varric approves of Inquisitor deciding to let soldiers to fend for themselves. Varric greatly approves of bullshitting your way through thing, including lying, and protecting what is yours. Hawke was never the goodest guy, they are either a smuggler or merc he hired to go through the Deep Roads. Without committing to either choice presented in DA2, Hawke was presented with moral choices where either pick can be dubious. Hawke had to have picked either mages or templars. A bunch of people who are without a doubt dangerous. Or an order who will commit atrocious crimes because they can get away with given that the crime is against a mage. Hawke had some sort of relationship with the guy who bombed the Chantry and either executed him or let him run, either choice without being canonical presents a moral quandary of its own. Varric writes books about how underhanded tactics, lying, spying, and manipulation with a dose of blackmail can actually be for the benefit of the greater good if done with right intetions. But by choosing Rook, it's like Varric thinks that goodness of Inquisitor is what gets one through Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, and not ruthlessness, self-service, and a lot of Varric's own favourite hobby - lying. Why Varric you meet in DA2 and Inquisition picks Rook? Well, he CALLS Rook clever and adaptable, but all Rook's cleverness is bulldozing through obstacles and killing obviously evil guys. Rook is stubborn, determined - no doubt. But Rook isn't clever, cunning, or crafty. They prioritize saving life in droves, which is something that would be on Varric's mind IF Varric was to believe Solas was a heartless bastard with no regard for the damage he causes and we know that's NOT what Varric believes about Solas.

Solas has to fight against his downfall - pride. I genuinely don't know what Rook has as a flaw they struggle against. Their compassion doesn't get them in trouble, they don't get tricked or betrayed. But Solas puts them in prison! Yes, but the reason Rook gets caught isn't due to Solas's trickery but because they can't do shit in the moment. They just fought against Ghilan'nain and her darkspawn puppets alone while trying to free their companions, get knocked on the head a few times, hangs upside down like cattle while their friend gets skewered. How Solas gets them into the prison is TACTICAL. Rook is weak, Rook is tired, Rook is vulnerable, and the Veil is thin so he can actually reach through. It's not trickery. But Rook and Co couldn't shut up about Solas' inevitable betrayal so the payoff is due in whatever way possible. Solas thinks he alone can fix what he has broken, he alone has to face Elgar'nan because many ancient grudges and regrets are knotted up in there. Solas turns on his friends because he thinks what he must do is the thing he must do or all is lost (elven immortality, magic, spirits, knowledge, the world he knew and its history). He thinks he alone knows better than anyone. Partially because he is one of the very few beings who lived since it all began, before the world was changed by the Veil. The Prison sequence wants you the player to believe Rook carries the responsibility in some internalized way, but it's not fucking written in any way until this point, so why would you consider it an issue Rook has to actively face and has struggled with and not just an excuse to have Solas out? My brothers and sisters by the Maker's grace, Leandra scolding Hawke for their sibling's death was more scathing than choosing a whole damn city to be left to burn.

"I've molded you into someone the prison can accept in my place". How? You've done nothing. We had like 4 conversations. 3 of which you spent telling me about the Evanuris, the Blight, their dragon thralls, and how much you fucking hate Elgar'nan. Solas says nothing that changes Rook in any way, how they view their leadership, their actions, or themselves. I think the prison will accept anyone with a formed frontal lobe, honestly. Solas makes you say "I'll do whatever it takes" in the dialogue! Again, that attitude Solas tries to push on you is: a. fucking necessary? you have immortal beings with pet dragons and almost unlimited power to fight against. b. the attitude is more embraced by your companions than Rook. c. Rook is never pushed into doing anything morally questionable or even debatably interesting to reach their objective. Not once is Rook saying "i don't want to do this, i hate to do this, but i have no choice." Rook doesn't even have to lie! Not fucking once!

Tricking someone doesn't make you right. It's one of the things Rook and Solas will discuss. And regardless of anything, Rook will go Shiro Emiya "just because you are correct doesn't mean you are right" on Solas's ass. And that's good. It shows that Solas is shit with introspection just like Elgar'nan and Ghian'nain are. It shows why he is stuck in the prison. On the other hand, his fucking murals are shows very nicely why he is stuck in the prison: he immortalizes his regrets that he wishes to forget instaed of working through them. And by bringing the point of trickery without engaging with what it actually menas to trick... It creates a problem. Well, two problems, actually. A. Where the Solas you meet in Inquisition and Trespasser and when can we get him back? Where is the man who tricked a whole ass organization, played chooms with a Seeker of Truth, Qunari spy, published liar, Spymaster of the Divine, and most ruthless diplomat? Never once does Solas feel superior or above the people he tricked there. He is in fact very fond of the Seeker of Truth who not once found truth on her own (I love you Cassandra). He is very fond of the Antivan diplomat who cheats, lies, manipulates, blackmails probably even better than he did as Dread Wolf and he doesn't feel any superiority for having outplayed Josephine. The reason Solas is the trickster is because it's his only weapon. He was never as powerful like Elgar'nan or Mythal, doesn't have a bunch of other somewhat powerful egomaniacs standing for his cause. Wits, trickery, deception are his only damn weapon, were his only damn weapon for centuries. That's why he is so good at it. The problem of Solas isn't in being a fucking trickster who thinks he is right because he can outsmart you, Veilguard, it's that he goes about solving the problems he creates the same way he goes about making them in the first place: alone, through deception. His trickery is a double edged sword and he constantly cuts himself, refusing to lay it down. He alone tricks the Evanuris into containing the Blight with their life force. Boom! The Veil. He lets the Venatori get his orb and bring it to Corypheaus, thinking he outsmarted them all and soon will unlock his orb and tear down the Veil he created. Boom! Corypheus lives, there is hole in the sky! So he slithers his way into the only force he thinks can fix what he just fucked up - the Inquisition - through deception, alone. That's his torment nexus. You tried and you came close, Veilguard, I giveyou that, but you slightly misrepresented the issue. B. The other problem is that Rook never has to trick anyone. Not even their enemies. Rook can never truly testify for the claim "outsmarting someone doesn't prove you were right" because they never had to. Rook is never confronted by the idea that tricking someone might actually good, put you on that high horse and it can be hard to get off. So Rook's words are just lipservice and not proven experience or tested issue.

"Solas sees himself in Rook". Only if Solas views himself as an insufferable goodie-two-shoes fool who thinks in straights lines and is about as easy to trick as a toddler.

[dervampireprince]

The Historical OCs Have Designs!

I've been saying I'd get this done for a while.

I have three ASMR audio series where I initially had no plans for the characters I portray in them to be actual proper original characters. No name, no design, no attachment. And the first one I did, the 'visiting king', was initially meant to be just a one-off audio. I had no idea these series would get so popular, and the first 'visiting king' audio is still my most viewed video on Youtube currently sitting at over 100k views. And soon what was a one-off audio became a whole series, and then I made others similar to it.

These three audio series ('Visiting King, 'Villain x Hero' and 'Guilty Priest') never had character designs or names. But as people started liking them and as I kept getting more requests for them I wanted to try and design them and turn them into proper OCs. But I was scared. People loved the audios that just had photographs of my outfits in them, what if my designs were a disappointment? What if they didn't live up to people's imagined versions of them?

Back in April-May 2024 I designed the Guilty Priest and named him Father Hawthorn. I added him to the OC stickers and keychains I have for sale on my Etsy shop.

And then I just never got around to designing the other two. And it felt more nerve-wracking to try and design them, especially the Visiting King as he's my most popular series of audios in terms of Youtube views (yes even more than Love Bites).

But yesterday I thought okay, enough, I have to design them. People have been asking for over a year and I keep saying I will, I have to try.

I had a much clearer vision for the Visiting King, so I challenged myself to design the Villain first. I really struggled. I erased so many sketches. And I only kept a few of the scraped designs on the final concept art sheet. Finally I got so frustrated I stopped drawing him in the basic standing pose I use for all my ref sheets and thought I'd try and draw a more fun pose and maybe that would help. And somehow it did. And then drawing the King was much easier.

(Thank you to mellon_soup for their free-to-use pose references, you can check them out on Patreon where they have free poses (with extra behind their paid memberships) that you can use to reference or use as a base).

I shared the work-in-progresses of drawing these guys with my 18+ Patreon-only Discord members to get feedback as I went along and they were so sweet. Me and my Discord members also discussed other ideas I had about the characters, including the fact that I... have started shipping them very badly. To the point I think it's canon now (not canon in their 'x listener' audios but in their regular stories). And thank you to my Discord members for letting me write just so many drabbles about them last night and how I think they would meet and get together.

And thank you to my Discord members for joining in on writing about them and in someone's case, instantly drawing fanart of their designs. They all already had pages on my fanart museum, but now the King and Villains pages are updated and there is a page for fanart of both of them together.

So below are their reference sheets. In order of when I first came up with the characters (which ironically is the opposite order of when I designed them). Lucien (the King) and Lysander's (the Villain) sheets are entirely new, whereas Hawthorn had one before but I've finally drawn a full body of him that isn't a chibi so the sheet has been updated. These are also on my fanworks guide now.

Thank you guys so much for the support on all my audios, and especially my original character ones. It always means so much when people listen to them, even if you came only for a fandom character and then gave my original boys a shot. It's always been a dream of mine to have original characters that other's like and care about and I can share with other people, and I'm so happy to have found that space with you guys.

The next time each of these characters have new audios I hope to have thumbnail art drawn that will replace the photographs of myself. I hope that change doesn't upset or disappoint anyone.

Anyway this got long. The men are below. I hope they're all kissable.

(PS. If there is an interest in my posting my drabbles about Lucien/Lysander please let me know, I've already written sfw and n#sfw things about them and I'd love to draw them as soon as I get less scared of drawing romantic and n#sfw art. If I end up writing a lot of drabbles or anything longer I'd put it on my dervampireprince AO3 too. I have a n#sfw Leon/Dracula Castlevania fic (my first full fic I've written in 2+ years) I posted no there last week, and Alucard/Olrox NSFW drabbles and art I've been posting all week on here.)

[s1lc0luvr]

guys, i need someone to write a young! Silco fanfic with a reader from piltover based off the song “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel.

i can imagine her being a little rebellious, maybe having rich parents and getting tired of that lifestyle, all the pressure of being poise and proper getting to her.

i need her to stay up late at night and dress in her darkest and edgiest clothes and go down to the undercity, looking for a good time and inevitably landing at the last drop.

and then she meets Silco, and i want him to be SMITTEN with her, like, can’t stop staring, drink dribbling down the chin, eyes wide, face flushed HEAD OVER HEELS.

and i want her to be just as down bad. sneaking out to see him every night, bringing him gifts he insists he doesn’t need.

GUYS I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST PUHLEASEEEEE GIVE IT TO MEE.

I could write it myself but I no no wanna 😝

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Gone

Avengers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (each can be read as platonic or otherwise)

Summary: The team went on a mission, it was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be.

Warnings: Character death, human experimentation, not a lot but some intense violence, lots of angst, no happy ending.

Word Count 1,959

Your day started off like any other, you got up and put your workout clothes on and 4:45 am. You met Steve outside the tower at 5:00 and went on your usual run for about an hour. Once you got back to the compound you made everyone breakfast, that morning you chose pancakes, which the whole team devoured. After breakfast at about 7:15, you all went to the meeting room where Steve started his briefing.

'All right, quick and easy in and out HYDRA base takedown shouldn't take more than 2 hours tops' the Captain stated 'Location, small town just outside of New Orleans'.

'Sweet, we can hit the casino before we head home' Tony said, knowning full well Steve would never go for it.

'I don't think so, Tony' the super soldier said almost rolling his eyes.

You all suited up and piled into the quinjet within the hour and were off the ground by 8:00. You arrived near the HYDRA base, parked the quinjet and placed it in stealth mode all by 10:00.

Bruce stayed in the jet hoping there wouldn't be any need for a 'code green' as the team put it. The rest of you split into pairs and you were with Steve. You and Steve silently became partners a long time ago, you two just always worked well together and after some time you developed a meaningful and strong bond, becoming true best friends. The two of you snuck up on the guards and clocked them before they could even hear you. You put on a couple of helmets to sneak in and make sure there were no civilian hostages before blowing the building into the sky. You went right as Steve went left. You walked over to an elevator and just as the doors were about to shut a HYRDA agent snuck in with you. You were a bit worried he might notice you and as he got closer you just did the first thing you could think of and uttered the phrase 'hail hydra' under your breath, which seemed to work out for you as he returned the sentiment.

You heard some agents talking about 'the subjects' which you were almost certain were captives hidden somewhere, but what you didn't expect was children. You had be through and see things no one should have to, some that included children, but that didn't make it any easier when they were involved. You told Steve over comms, to meet you in the basement where you thought the kids were. You waited in the basement until 1:54 pm when you saw Steve approaching. You two searched the basement while Tony got JARVIS to take as many scans of the building as possible but there was something preventing him from seeing inside.

'J's stumped guys, he can't see through the walls, they're probably lined with lead' Tony grumbled annoyed that he hadn't considered lead.

'I don't know if you should stay in there if Tony can't see anything' Clint stated, concerned like the mother hen he is.

'We're not in there, Steve, Y/n, what do you think?' Natasha asked.

'Your call' Steve said looking to you. You had more experience with discrete infiltration than your super soldier friend who generally just bursts in.

'I say we keep going, we gotta find those kids' you said determined to help the children.

You and Steve ventured further into the basement, uncovering multiple secret rooms, but no kids. You looked for hours taking you to 6:24 pm and still no luck.

'You think we should call it a day?' Steve asked you.

'I can't leave those kids' you muttered back.

'Maybe there are no kids, maybe the agents were wrong'

'Can't take that chance, Captain'

He knew you were serious when you called him 'Captain' as you usually opted for 'Cap' or 'Steve'.

After continuing your search you finally found them. The door was locked so in one swift moment Steve knocked it down with a kick, you knew he's was a super soldier but sometimes you forgot. You rushed in the door started opening cells. Most of the children had some form of injuries but a few of them were.... different. You let one out that had feathers on her arms and another with gills, HYRDA had been experimenting on them. You had seen experimentations before but nothing this successful and not with Steve. When he saw the boy with a fluffy tail and ears you thought he might be sick, no because of the boy's appearance but because he knew the paint if experimental formulas and he hated that a child had to go through that. Many children. You could see the pain in Steve's usually soft blue eyes, not clouding with rage.

At 9:02 you started to help the children out of the building through the vent system, Clint's suggestion of course. You were greeted outside, not very warmly, by what must have been 100 HYDRA agents. The rest of the team joined you and they caught the agents as you and Steve protected the 20 odd kids. One agent grabbed a vulture-like girl, she must've be 5 years old at the most, and pointed a gun to her head. You stopped immediately, placing your weapon on the ground and you hands above your head.

'Don't hurt her, please' you begged the man but he just chuckled in response seeing how much you cared for the girl you had just barely met.

'I'll do want I want, bitch' he barked before tightening his grip on her throat. She looked up at you and muttered the words 'please help me' just before he took the shot. His finger tightened around the trigger squeezing it while staring at you the entire time. You didn't take your eyes off the little girl's. Big, beautiful, brown eyes staring up at you with hope, hope that you would save her life, but you didn't. You watched as he released his grip on her neck, letting her limp body fall to the ground with a sharp thud. You stared at her body. His gruff laughter jolting you back into reality. He knew he was about to die but seeing that he got to you made it all worth it. You turned your head back to face him, not saying a word you pounced on him. You ripped him apart, limb from limb, with your bare hands.

Steve saw you, elbow deep in the agent's bloody carcass. Then he saw the little girl lying on the ground next to you. He didn't say anything, now wasn't the time, he just continued to fight. He unleashed the bottled up rage from when he saw the children earlier.

Everyone was beating the agents senseless and just as you thought the battle was coming to a close more troop came from behind, snatching the kids from you and Nat, who had helped you after seeing what happened with the girl. The agents gather the children up and poured gasoline around them. You thought they were bluffing, even after earlier, you didn't think they would destroy all those experiments at least. You all stared as one man lit a match and smiled as he dropped it.

You where half a mile from them so by the time you all got there the flames were raging at 9 feet from the ground, still climbing.

Even in this state, Hulk knew that Steve and Tony would rush in to save them even though they'd probably due doing it, so he grabbed them and held them both in a huge bear hug making sure they couldn't escape. What he didn't account for was you.

You knew it was stupid, but you couldn't just watch them die. The rest of the team started to turn around, silently admitting defeat, but you didn't. You watched the daunting inferno, towering over you, growing, engulfing trees with the children. You ran into the blaze, covering your face with your arms. You rushed around checking the bodies, searching for any sign of life, until you saw an arm reach out. You bolted over to the girl, only slightly spared because of all the other's corpses piled on top of her, partly shielding her from the flames. You life's the bodies off of her and cradled her in your arms as you ran out of the fire.

Your teammates, your friends were terrified when they saw you run straight into fire. Every second you staying there the more they worried. They clung to the hope that you might come out, you had to.

When they saw you burst through the flames they all breathed a sigh of relief. They say you hold the girl and rushed over to you. Thor took her from your arms and the moment you let her go you collapsed. The last thing you saw was Steve hovering over you.

They saw you fall to the ground, mirroring the vulture girl from earlier. Steve pushed his way out of the Hulk's grip and rushed to your side. He picked you limp body up in his arms and rushed you to the quinjet, to which the others followed quick behind.

At 1:37 am Thor placed the girl onto the on-board med bay. They checked her over on the flight home, sustaining her for the time being and keeping her breathing. The whole time Steve held you in his arms and stared at the scrape, cuts, bruises and... burns that littered your body. The fire had burned through your suit, scorching your skin on your legs, abdomen and back mostly. Those were the worst ones. He stared at the burn that climbed from your neck, up your cheek. It captured a small amount of you hairline and crept it's way to your eye. He could see what looked like little tendrils of scarred skin creeping over the outer corner of your right eye. He ghosted his fingers over it feeling the raised skin, tears pricking at his eyes as you still hadn't moved.

Steve lowered you onto the med bay bed and Bruce checked you over, however hopeless it may seem. Steve held your hand, his glassy eyes not leaving your closed ones for a moment. Bruce inhaled deeply and looked over and the man at your bedside, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to.

'I'm sorry' he started 'she doesn't have a pulse and she isn't breathing'.

No one said anything, the rest of the team stood around you praying that they heard him wrong.

Natasha walked over to the corner and sunk onto the floor, folding in on herself. Clint tilted his head back, resting it on the wall as a stared at the ceiling. Thor punched a wall of the quinjet, almost breaking straight through. Tony looked down and walked away, his guilty thoughts starting to take over. 'What if I had thought about lead? Then she'd still be alive'.

Everyone was choking back tears, they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives. The person who made them laugh with some of the most stupid jokes known to man. The person who taught them new training techniques, even when they thought they knew them all by now. The person that made them their favourite meal when they were feeling down. The person who nursed them back to health when they were sick. The person who somehow could always get them the best gifts come the holidays. The person who comforted them no matter what. The person that they relied on to be their rock.

You were just gone, and all by 3:00 am.

Tags:

@impetusofadream

@goldfishthegr8

@avengers-official-recruit-agent

@goreygirl03

@xenasolos

@sparklyturtlefox

@rios-sythe

[undercvrfan444]

“Yeah he loves me but he fucks me like he hates me guts!”

Based off of this! https://x.com/entirepornvids/status/1877827274822525189?s=46

Description! - Gojo can’t stand you! He’s always found you annoyingly attractive and can’t stand to see you prance around Jiujitsu High’s halls in your skimpy teaching outfit!

Satoru Gojo was never one to be quiet. He was unapologetically loud and arrogant no matter who he was around.

So the day you met him it baffled you when he refused to speak more than a few words to you. Even then when he spoke the words were so hateful it had your head spinning.

Throughout your entire time at Jiujitsu High you had heard of the strongest, so now that you returned to work there after attending school it was just expected you’d meet Gojo. Afterall, you had to work with him. When you’d been assigned a few kids to teach you were ecstatic! Finally you’d be able to get hands on with the future of the jiujitsu world and unfortunately you had to share it was some hard ass.

Your three students, Yuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, and Megumi Fushigoro were definitely polar opposites that just happened to meld well together. A discombobulation of personalities in which a family was formed, however Gojo always seemed to leave you out of that so called family dynamic.

���I don’t understand what his problem is with you teach, he’s always nice to us.” Itadori sat across from you while the other two students sat on your side eating lunch. A soft sigh made its way through your glossed lip, feeling the smooth sensation always seemed to offer some comfort. “Honestly Yuji…I don’t know either.” Instead of dogging on Gojo though, you change the subject. A sweet smile is all you can offer the 3 signaling you don’t really have the room to reprimand higher authority.

Nobara on the other hand can’t let an old dog sleep. “Anytime I see you and him together you’re always respectful, like more so than I feel you should be. When you leave or go off to do something he’s completely opposite around us!” Her words were entirely meant innocently but they made you feel like shit.

Did you accidentally insult his clan without realizing it? What exactly was so vile about you that the world’s biggest big mouth is tight lipped around you?

“I’m not sure you guys should be talking about Gojo like this, what if he were here?”

The moment the words come out of your mouth it’s as though the air chilled. Three pairs of eyes leave your frame and look up behind you, Nobara smiles wide at you, giggling and wiling her mouth with a napkin. “Speak of the devil…”

You feel your spine go ridged as you ignore the man behind you, refusing to turn around. He slides next to you on the bench with a big smile on his face. “Who are we gossiping about?” The words are silky smooth, an edge to them that anyone could mistake for a hint of jealousy from being left out.

“You!” Yuji pipes up. “We were talking about why you-“

Before any words can vomit their way from Yuji’s mouth, Nobara slaps a firm hand over his lips. Megumi laughs a little as your eyes widen, scolding the pink haired boy for being such a snitch. The scene unfolding before Gojo makes him frown secrets don’t keep friends you know! He leaned over and pried Nobara’s hand off of Yuji’s mouth but it was no use; the stink eye Megumi and Nobara gave Yuji was enough to turn anyone to stone within seconds.

Overhead a bell rang for classes to begin. Lunch was over fortunately for you despite not eating much from talking.

You stood up from the table as everyone excused themselves to their respective classes. Gojo was surely left more confused now than when he’d walked up to the group discussion.

For the rest of the day, time seemed to slow down and drag on. Minutes felt like hours until finally the students had been released to go home. The sun provided golden rays on the empty desks of your class room. Truthfully this was one of your favorite times of the day because you could finally relax and let your mind run wild without worrying about someone else catching you off in space.

That is until a knock on the door frame of your room pulls you away from your thoughts. Strands of white catch your attention from the corner of your eye.

Swiveling around to face a very obviously annoyed Gojo wasn’t easy. A thick lump forms in your throat at the idea of him ripping you a new one for the things you said earlier.

“Gojo? Can I help you?” Simple, sweet.

Brief seconds pass with him staring at you from his position in the door.

“What were you and the kids talking about earlier?”

The question left your heart leaping from your chest. Saliva seemed to run dry in miliseconds making it hard to answer, your mouth slightly agape as you thought on what to say.

“Nothing, we were only chatting.”

“Don’t lie to me. Yuji hasn’t said anything to me all day which is not at all like him. Megumi keeps giving me sly remarks about shit and Nobara. She won’t stop ignoring me.”

Light pink blush settles on your cheeks thinking of the bunch. It was sweet how they took up for you despite not knowing what the outcome would be.

“If I tell you, promise me not to get mad.”

“Just tell me.”

“Not until you promise!”

A low groan emits from the white haired teacher. His eyebrows furrow before relaxing, a hand coming up to run over his face.

“I…Promise.”

gently sighing, you stand up. The feeling of being lower than him made you queasy.

“We..were talking about why you always..”

“Always..?”

“..you always seem to be so quiet when i’m around. Megumi had asked me if I’ve ever mouthed off to you or if we have previous history because you’re just so cold to me.”

Your words sounded like a kindergartner trying to talk about how they felt. It’s how you truly feel. A deafening silence blankets your two bodies as Gojo stares at you blankly, as if you’d just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

He steps a little closer to your desk. “What are you talking about?”

Hearing his words make your eyes almost bug out of your head. “Are you kidding me!? Ever since I started working with you i’ve never gotten more than a few words out of your lips. In fact, this conversation we’re having right now is the longest i’ve ever held your attention. You seem to shut down and stop talking the second i’m around, it makes me feel like i’ve done something wrong! I respect you so much Gojo and i’ve never understood why you treat me so terribly. You make me feel like you hate me.”

Small quivers overtake your lower lip, pink soft skin getting trapped between your teeth to stop the movements. It was embarrassing to be infront of Gojo crying like a baby. If he didn’t think of you that way before he certainly would now.

The blindfold covering Gojo’s eyes is slipped off silently. The white fabric falling from his softened features and being forgotten on the hardwood of your table.

Tears streamed out of your thick lashes. The idea of being so close to a man you never thought would breathe the same air as you for longer than he had to was nauseating. In a featherlight touch, thick fingers wrap around your face making you look up at him so he could wipe the crystal tears away.

“Stop that.” As if a ghost were touching you instead of the strongest sorcerer known to the world, two light pink lips kiss your eyelids.

The sudden change in attitude hit like whiplash. Gojo surely wasn’t cruel enough for this to be some big joke so why is he treating you like fine china? Could he be getting a laugh out of this deep down? Are there cameras outside ready to bust you out for being so foolish?

“I don’t hate you Y/n. I could never hate you. Forgive me for not being man enough to tell you how I feel before now but, I guess I didn’t know how upset my actions made you.” A few more soft pecks were laid on your face, inching closer to your wet trembling lips.

“Then why are you so distant? It breaks my heart to see you so close with the kids and then turn around to treat me like the redheaded stepchild.”

A loud laugh echoed in your ears at the last part of your sentence. Beautiful pearly white teeth flashing in your eyes.

“A redheaded stepchild?”

Nodding, you sniffle. “This isn’t funny!-“

“It’s a little funny” he retorts.

Anger replaces the once evident hurt. Were your feelings really so insignificant to him that he could find every loose thread in your resolve just to kick you down?

*Slap!*

A sharp echo rang throughout the room. Satoru’s pale skin now had a blooming red mark in the shape of your beautiful manicured hand. “Are you ready to apologize for being such a dick!?”

Quiet steps were all you could hear. Then your classroom door shutting. A lock turning in place. “Shut up.”

In a flash you were up against your desk, back arched so Satoru’s chest slammed into yours. Teeth clashed with teeth as he kissed you rough, unforgiving. Two large hands groped your ass through the skirt you wore it was something Satoru had hated about you. How beautifully your curves fill out the skirt making him want to rip it off and stuff his cock in you.

Strangled moans are drowned in Satoru’s mouth his tongue fighting against yours. “‘Toru, s-slow down!”

Oh how stupid were you? Your pleas fell silent on his ears. Instead his teeth sunk into yours neck, licking over the red teeth marks he left. One of his hands trailed down to rub a finger over the slick cotton panties you had on, arousal sticking to his fingers. “Mm so fucking filthy. Your pussy is begging for me to stuff her full huh?”

Moans fill your classroom. Porn stars had nothing on the sounds coming out of Satoru and you were the ones pulling them out.

“Y-yes, please. Please ‘toru fuck me!” It was embarrassing at just how easy you were! One feel of the strong presence digging into you and you were ready to give it up on your desk.

Not wasting any more time your panties were torn off, left somewhere behind the man below you. “Get on the desk.”

Satoru pushed your legs apart slowly. Antagonizingly slow. A shudder ripped through you at the mix of cold and hot air meeting your pussy. “God, just fucking look at her.” Heat rises to your cheeks when you feel two thick fingers prod your entrance, slowly spreading your folds deliberately apart. “How long have you been waiting for this, hmm?”

Slick arousal drops down every part of your lower body. Satoru’s slips onto the floor with his head squished nicely between your legs. His tongue licked a languid stripe through your cunt before dipping the tip of his tongue inside.

Your fingers race to find stability in silky white strands. “Waiting for me to devour you whole just to abuse this cunt the second I feel you cum on my tongue?” And fuck if the sound of Satoru talking dirty didn’t turn you on even more.

As if the man knew every inch of your body already, he slid his middle finger inside you. pistoning in and out of your sloppy hole until you’re feeling pressure build in your lower tummy. Thank God no one was in the building after hours or else it wouldn’t take a second thought to come check on you with how loud you were mewling and whining.

“s’ t-too much! M’gonna cum..M’gonna cum!” your words were breathy. Saliva had dried in your mouth the second your lips broke away from Satoru’s. Another finger stretched you open and together they curled, feeling the spongy area. “Aww I barely even started!”

Pretty pink lips suctioned over your clit. His fingers curled harder each time earning a high pitched squeal from you. Ever since Satoru had met you he knew this would be the way you ended up. Squirming on his fingers and begging to be fucked.

It was the way you looked at him.

His dick involuntarily got hard anytime you stared up at him with those big eyes. You always seemed to have something on the end of your tongue that just aggravated Satoru! He saw how your thighs pressed together when he was around, and you better believe he saw the way you snuck glances at his clothes dick anytime you could. So really could he blame you for being such a white over his mouth?

One small filck of his tongue on your swollen clit has you shaking on his mouth, hands pulling at those strands so hard you knew it had to hurt. Oh but he wasn’t finished there.

As soon as he pulled away from your pussy you were being flipped on your stomach. Cold hard wood pressed into your lower abdomen while you listened to the sound of a belt buckle clinking off. “Satoru..”

Lowly he hums in your ear, chills spilling through you. “What is it baby? I know my name sounds good but surely you’ve got something more to say.” The fat tip of Satoru’s cock brushes oh so faintly that it has you pushing your hips back to find any friction you could. You knew Satoru would be big but fuck! There’s no way that thing is gonna fit inside you without tearing you open!

“I..I thought you hated me!” You mumble into your arm as you hold yourself up against the desk. You feel the thick throb of Satoru’s cock against your ass, the hard veiny length just waiting for you to swallow it.

Without warning Satoru pushes the length in. A burning sensation engulfing your body, “Oh baby, I love you! But i’m just gonna fuck you like I hate your guts.”

[lyraa-kill]

Sick and Twisted Bastard

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 l Chapter 5

Tags: Stalker Simon "Ghost" Riley, Trans John “Soap" MacTavish, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Dom Simon “Ghost" Riley, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Stalking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, johnny can't make himself cum, Kidnapping, Knives, John is okay with Simon's stalking, John is a little freak too, Voyeurism, Hidden Cameras, Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Painplay, Internalized Transphobia, Self-Harm, Murder, They really match each others freak, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Biting, pussy slapping, Face Slapping, Blood, Choking

——

The bath water is warm, relaxing Johnny’s body in ways he didn’t know he needed. As he lays in the tub, his head resting on Simon’s lap who sits on the ledge, he realizes he was holding so much tension in himself that it became his new normal. Simon was right. He really did need to be brought to this new home, even if it had to be done by force.

“Alright, Johnny?” Simon questions, running his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk.

“Mhm,” Johnny hums, his brain fuzzy and floaty and making him incapable of speech.

Simon is gentle with him. He gently washes his hair, scrubs all the dirt and grime and sweat off of Johnny’s body, and even gives him a little massage afterwards. Johnny lets himself be taken care of. It’s foreign to him, and something inside himself tells him to not let his guard down, but he pushes that thought away. Simon wouldn’t hurt him. Everything that man has done has been for Johnny’s good. He’s sure that even if Simon started to do something Johnny didn’t want him to, it would still be good for him, that he was in the wrong for feeling that way.

Johnny nuzzles his face into Simon’s thigh, relishing in the way his soft skin feels against his face. He never realized just how large Simon was before now. On base, he always thought the man was made so big looking because of all of his gear and the layers of his clothes, but no, Simon was a BIG guy. One of his thighs is almost double the size of Johnny’s face, his arms packed with muscle on top of muscle. Johnny was muscular in his own regard, definitely not someone that could be considered small, but next to Simon he looked like a dwarf.

Johnny is falling in love with it. He loves the idea of being able to lay back and let this big, strong man take control and protect him. He doesn’t need to be the mean and scary Sergeant MacTavish. He’s just Johnny, and Johnny loves being treated like a big baby.

When Simon gets him out of the bath, he dries him off with a nice big fluffy towel that feels like silk against Johnny’s skin.

After he’s all dry, Simon wraps the towel around his body, arms included, and holds him close to his chest. A small part of him feels guilty over what he did to him that morning. Johnny had said no, but he had kept going. Just… god, the sight of him laid out on the bed, completely helpless and tied down, his body practically begging to be touched… Simon had snapped. It had been so hard to restrain himself from burying to the hilt inside Johnny and jackhammering away at him when he saw him start to cry. He had wanted nothing more than to fucking rape him and use him, make him little more than a toy for his own entertainment.

“You feelin’ okay after this morning?” Simon asks, his voice gruff.

Johnny takes a minute to respond, words too hard for his brain, but he says, “Yeah. I really needed that. You always know what’s best f’me, Simon.”

Simon smiles and kisses the top of Johnny’s head. “Course I do. I’d never do anything to hurt you, baby.” He cups Johnny’s face and make him meet his gaze, their faces inches apart as he says, “I always know what you need and I’ll be more than happy to give it to you, okay? Just gotta trust me. You shouldn’t resist me when you know I’m right and just doing what’s best.”

Johnny nods. “Okay, Si,” he whispers, his voice feather-light.

They kiss softly, their lips matching together like puzzle pieces. They stand there and enjoy each other's contact for several minutes before Johnny starts to shiver. Simon notices this, and says “Let’s go get you dressed.”

Johnny is surprised to see all his clothes sitting in the dresser, but then he smiles and shakes his head. Of course Simon would do that. He remembers everything, down to the very minute detail.

Simon reaches for a pair of Johnny’s sweats before he’s interrupted by hands snaking around his waist. “Can I wear your clothes?” Johnny asks.

Simon smiles. “Course. Might be too big on you, though.”

Eventually Johnny gets dressed in a pair of Simon’s joggers and a hoodie which seems to swallow him. He loves it. For the first time, he feels comfort in being small and vulnerable.

Simon leads him downstairs to the kitchen, pulling out a chair for him to sit at the table. Johnny does, looking around at the cabin as Simon starts to make breakfast. Everything is decorated just as he would’ve done it. The space feels almost cottage-y and Victorian the way everything goes together and makes Johnny feel as though this home is warm, happy, bright, full of laughter and smiles.

He’s never had a home like that. He grew up in a run-down pile of bricks full of constant screaming and fighting. It’s nice.

Simon notices Johnny looking around and says, “Do you like it? I… well, I’m sure you know now that I know more about you than you’ve told me. I tried to make it seem like the home I know you’ve been wanting.”

Johnny nods. “I love it,” he speaks softly, “It’s perfect.”

Simon’s heart swells. He’s… proud of himself, for the first time in a while. He can’t remember the last time when he felt good about his accomplishments and not shame or loathing for himself. Maybe that’s because previously, everything he did worthy of merit or praise resulted in death. Maybe he didn’t want to feel good about that.

He doesn’t mind feeling good for making his Johnny happy though.

The monster in him flickers again, disappearing for a few seconds longer than it did last time.

Maybe Johnny is the thing he needs to heal, the thing that will help him become himself again after the torture he was put though. Simon doesn’t even know what he was like before everything happened to him; he was so young. But maybe Johnny can help him find out who.

Maybe Simon can help Johnny find out who he is, too.

Breakfast is served a few minutes later, fried eggs and tomatoes with toast. Simon eats slowly, but Johnny wolfs it down like he was starving. Simon makes a mental note to make more for lunch and dinner later so Johnny doesn’t go hungry.

When Johnny is finished, he looks down at his plate with a strange expression on his face.

“Am I… I’m weird for this, aren’t I?” he asks.

Simon looks up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Johnny laughs a little bit. “I’m sitting here eating breakfast with the guy who kidnapped me and I don’t feel like I’m in any danger. I feel happy, actually. I’m… I’m realizing that I’m not really mad about it at all, that this actually makes me love you even more.”

All in all, Johnny has had a lot of conflicting feelings in the last three hours. He was angry, terrified, in love and happy, then terrified again. Then he was happy again, now he’s elated and his heart is swelling with love.

He’s just now realizing how unlike regular people he is. A common man would’ve gone screaming and running by now, would still be putting up a fight and making up escape plans in his head. Johnny isn’t as normal as he thought.

He always felt that yeah, he had a shitty childhood. His parents sucked and a bunch of stuff happened to him that shouldn’t have. But he thought that it hadn’t affected him that deeply, that he was still capable of functioning like a person that had never gone through anything more traumatic than a broken bone or two. It’s… a shock, to realize that it’s not the case. To realize that maybe he was so desperate to be loved and taken care of all these years that he’s been turned into this… thing… that will take any affection, no matter how deranged, and cherish it, love it back even.

He doesn’t mind that, he realizes.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed about it, baby,” Simon stands up and walks over to Johnny, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into his torso. “I love you too, okay? There’s nothing wrong with being in love with someone that loves you back. There’s nothing wrong with having, well, different ways to show you love someone. I had to realize that too.”

Johnny nods. If Simon says it’s okay, he’ll trust him. He’ll always believe whatever he tells him.

“Okay,” he mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, “Just- maybe ask me next time you wanna break into my house and kidnap me? I’d follow you anywhere, Si. I’ll always do whatever you want me to with a smile. Just ask next time, okay?”

Simon smiles as he presses his face into Johnny’s hair. “Okay, baby,” he says.

———

The next few days are spent in an odd, yet comforting, domestic bliss. Johnny and Simon wake up every morning wrapped up in each other, kiss the other awake, then see if anything happens from there. Yesterday, Johnny had sucked Simon off while they were 69’ing and his cunt was buried into Simon’s mouth.

Today, Johnny woke up naked and bound again, Simon’s face pressed into his pussy.

He smiles as he lightly tugs on his restraints. It’s a nice feeling to be so vulnerable yet know that nothing bad will happen.

“Fuck, Simon-“ Johnny groans after his eyes manage to fully open, “Thought you got enough of me- s-shit- last night.”

Growling, Simon shakes his head. “I’ll never get enough of you, baby,” he mumbles into Johnny’s cock.

He slowly swirls his tongue around the tip of the short length, watching as Johnny’s eyes roll back, then cups the underside with his tongue as he sucks. He’s completely pussy drunk, obsessed with the sweet nectar that pours out of his hole and how ruined Johnny can get with only a few touches. Simon knows that that’s probably only because Johnny is still pent up after being denied for so long, but he can’t help but be a little egotistical and think that maybe he’s just that good at pleasing this boy.

Simon continues his assault, greedily sucking Johnny for everything that he’s worth. He loves watching the way all the tension leaves Johnny’s body and he’s left a pliant toy ready for Simon to do whatever he wants. He loves the feeling of owning him completely, able to caress or crush him, give him pleasure or give him pain, anything he wishes. Because he owns Johnny. That’s his boy, and he gets to play with him however he wants. And Johnny will let him, so eager to make him happy and give up all control.

It further cements the idea in Simon’s head that they were made for each other.

Johnny cums once, that time only with Simon’s mouth, and twice, with lips around his cock and three fingers buried inside him. Just as he’s being worked up to the third one, Simon stops, a teasing smile on his face.

“Simonnnn,” he groans, “You know I don’t like edging.”

“Can’t help it baby,” Simon says, running his slick soaked hands up and down Johnny’s body, “You look so pretty when you get frustrated and start to cry.”

Johnny quickly found out that edging was a double edged sword two days prior. It was pure agonizing torture as Simon brought him right up to orgasm but didn’t let him finish six times, but after he had been allowed to come (he had to beg and scream for it incessantly), his orgasm was so good he blacked out for a solid minute.

Simon sits up and straddles Johnny’s stretched out legs. His erection is monstrous, visibly throbbing and straining as it reaches towards his mid thigh.

“Baby?” Simon asks, “I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah? I need it so bad and I’ve been waiting for so long. I know you need it too. Just trust me, doll.”

Johnny is scared. Simon is huge, and he’s a complete virgin. A large part of him is still apprehensive, but he knows Simon wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. He knows that Johnny is ready for it even if he doesn’t think so; he trusts Simon to know what’s best for him.

So, instead of saying he’s scared and telling Simon to stop, he makes an attempt to spread his legs wider and says, “Please, fuck me Simon.”

He’ll be thankful and happy for it later.

Simon completely crushes Johnny with his body weight as he leans on top of him and crashes their lips together, grinding his cock down into his stomach.

Only a few moments later and Simon is undoing the chains keeping Johnny’s legs tied to the bedposts, and instead tying them behind his head. He’s completely exposed and way more vulnerable in this position than he was before. He fucking loves it.

Simon places a gentle hand on Johnny’s hip as he rubs his tip against his aching slit. Johnny’s heart is in his throat, so nervous he thinks he’s about to pass out. Is it gonna hurt? Is he gonna bleed? Will he tear, even?

Simon senses Johnny’s nerves and cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb against his skin. “Relax for me sweet boy. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Johnny sighs and nuzzles his face into Simon’s hand. At his command, the rest of his tension and nerves leaves his body. He doesn’t need to be scared. If Simon says everything will be fine, then everything will be fine.

Slowly Simon starts to push in, stopping when the tip and an inch or so is inside.

Johnny gasps, his eyes going wide. The stretch. It burns, feels like he’s being ripped in half, but by god he loves it; it hurts so deliciously. His heart pounds in his chest as Simon sinks further in him, molding his cunt to fit him and him alone.

“Ohmygodfucksimon-“ Johnny exclaims, his eyes screwing shut, “fuckfuckfuckfuck oh my GOD-“

Simon hold Johnny’s face with both his hands. “Shhh, look at me baby. Look at me.” Johnny does. “You’re doing so fucking good for me. Taking me so well. You can do it baby, I know you can.”

Johnny nods. If Simon says he can, then he can.

“It’s halfway in, doll. Just a bit more to go.”

Johnny bites his lip and whines at that. Only halfway? He feels like he’s being impaled.

Simon slowly works himself in deeper and deeper, reassuring Johnny the whole time. Eventually he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed against that perfect ass.

“It’s all the way in now angel,” he says, “you’re taking me so well. ‘M so proud of you.”

Johnny blushes and his mouth breaks out into a goofy smile. He did it. And, fuck, it feels so good. He wants Simon to keep his cock buried in him forever.

He knew he would realize he was ready for this eventually. Simon is doing exactly what he needs even if Johnny doesn’t know it and is afraid of it.

As he lays there, Simon’s cock pressing right into his cervix, his mind breaks completely. All apprehension and fear he had left is gone. All that exists now is his desire to submit completely and give up his entire body, his autonomy as a being to Simon. He’s not scared of it anymore. He knows he’ll be taken care of. He won’t be hurt.

Fuck. He never thought being someone’s sub bitch could feel so good.

“Fuck me, please Si,” Johnny begs, “Use me however you want. Do whatever you want to me. Just fuck me please.”

Simon wickedly grins. “Yeah? That stupid little brain of yours knows you’re all mine now, huh? My little plaything? My little toy I get to rape and violate however I want?”

“Yes! Yes, please Simon! Do whatever you want- fuck- just use me. Hit me. Slap me. Bite me. Hurt me. I don’t care, just fucking use me.”

At those words Simon starts thrusting into Johnny, bullying his cunt with his massive cock. Johnny’s eyes roll back as electric shocks of pleasure and pain cascade up his body, melting his mind.

Johnny is so much more tight than Simon thought he would be. His greedy cunt is gripping his cock for all it’s worth, almost refusing to let it slide out when he tries to thrust. Simon has never had an issue with cumming prematurely, but he now just might, because he already feels like he’s so close to cumming.

As he fucks into Johnny, Simon takes what the boy had said earlier literally. He slams his hands down onto his ass, bites at his thighs so hard it draws blood, slaps him across the face when he says it hurts too much.

Simon was wrong before. He does want to hurt Johnny. But it’s fine, because Johnny wants it too.

Johnny is losing his mind, feeling like his consciousness is slipping in and out of reality. Simon is making him feel so good he thinks he’s about to see heaven. Every time he’s spanked, slapped, bit, his hair is pulled, it’s complete bliss. It hurts so fucking bad but he feels so much joy at knowing Simon is using him, that he’s completely and utterly owned.

He comes three times before Simon does his first. The man is relentless, growling through it and pulling Johnny’s head back by his hair and spitting into his mouth before locking him in a kiss, biting his lip so hard blood coats the insides of both of their mouths.

Simon keeps going, aching to get his fill of his boy since he’s been starved of it for so long. It feels like hours before he finally lets up, panting as he leans back and his cock slips out, a flood of cum pouring out of Johnny.

He smiles as he looks at his boy’s ruined form. He’s covered in bite marks and hickeys, blood and bruises. His voice is hoarse from screaming so much, begging Simon for god know’s what. Simon’s smile turns wicked as he slaps Johnny’s cunt, making him jolt and throw his head back as he screams. Simon lays into it, ruthlessly smacking Johnny’s pussy just because he can and he loves the way he screams.

When he’s finished, his cunt is bright red and throbbing.

Johnny smiles.

[songofthesibyl]

There’s a pervasive narrative in the fandom that we only need to pay attention to the things we are “meant” to. And to interpret actions based on what role the character plays in the narrative. Since Rhysand is Tamlin’s foil and generally “means well,” we shouldn’t really think deeply about areas where that seems to be in question. If the CoN citizens are shortchanged, well that’s just an example of poor writing, it’s not supposed to be a reflection of Rhysand’s character (it may very well be part of a future storyline, but we have to go on what we have now—how the Night Court is after centuries of his rule). “Critical thinking” regarding ACOTAR then involves showing the crumbs the author left—showing Tamlin’s red flags, for example. Illustrating what the author “meant.” Critically thinking about the books in any other way is mocked, because it will ultimately be irrelevant to the story—even though that’s not really the point of criticism. (Unless it’s ACOSF, then all the bad things that Rhysand does, Nesta’s growth and healing, are all a product of bad writing, and wasn’t the author in a bad place then, and when you think about it, SJM isn’t really a good person. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what the author meant, and they are capable of thinking critically again.) Feyre’s character arc was disappointing to me because I would expect, in a transformative arc where she becomes a powerful being—one she hated a year ago, one she would have only known as an enslaving monster growing up—that she at some point would let the power corrupt her. This happens all the time in these kinds of arcs—the hunger taking over a newly made vampire, abusing new superpowers as a mutant, etc. So Feyre falling in love with her powers—both magically and politically—makes sense, especially with how it’s framed as empowering after what happened with Tamlin. It’s fine if she goes too far, because then she can have that moment where she realizes maybe she has lost, or is in danger of losing, her human heart. I figured that would happen after that scene in the first book where she’s on the balcony with Rhysand. But it didn’t really. There’s a little moment at the High Lord’s meeting, but the focus is more on Tamlin being a bitch, and so her actions are seen against him, not judged on their own. This is repeated in ACOFAS. So to bring up your other recent post, it’s difficult to judge all the characters the same, because it isn’t framed as every character has different shades of grey-ness, and we just have to wait to see what’s underneath (like with Nesta, and probably Eris). There are very clear good guys and bad guys, and it’s clear how SJM wants you to feel about them—I’ve never read a series where I had that woman-behind-the-curtain feeling so much. But I do hold the protagonists to a higher standard, and it will be jarring when they do something bad/hurtful/etc. and there are no real consequences. That’s one reason I find Tamlin/Lucien/Nesta etc to be more interesting and palatable, because they do have them. Not necessarily because they are better people morally.

But then SJM talks all the time about liking to write characters who are difficult people, and to examine what might be behind that. So it’s hard to tell sometimes what actually is meant by the author and what stems from the fandom—I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to think Nesta is an abusive bitch/irredeemable monster by the end of the latest CC book. I’m also not sure if, during that exchange between Feyre and Lucien where Feyre mocks the Band of Exiles and he calls her an asshole, I’m supposed to find it attractive character-wise that the only reflection Feyre has when he says that to her is “true.” I can imagine she feels uncomfortable around Lucien still, and is recovering from trauma, and is entitled to lash out. But for the author to have that be the only thing she thinks turns me off her character all the same. But does she mean for me to feel that way, or does she just like writing characters like that? It feels like she wants to write grey characters, but wants to force you to like the ones she likes best; she wants to have it both ways. And that’s where the characterization becomes a problem.

I see a lot of posts that are like “y’all call Feyre selfish or blah blah blah, but she has done XYZ” and I think that is a huge issue with the books.

We have seen her do explicitly selfless acts. She gave the people in her village money and she gave her jewelry away to the wraiths to pay tithe. We are told time and time again that she does these big acts of charity and is a selfless person.

BUT this is all intentional characterization. The issue comes from when you look at her actions later on that aren’t meant to serve as a direct glimpse into her personality or goodness, but moreso just a product of her acting in the circumstance. THAT is when you have criticism of her being selfish or other. When the narrative stops peddling the Feyre is amazing train, that’s when it cracks. When the book pauses on trying to characterize Feyre and moves onto another, that’s when it falls apart. When the spotlight is on her, she’s perfect, but when it moves away and her character is left to act naturally without an agenda for the narrative, that’s when I think you see her true character.

We have a similarly opposite issue with Nesta (I find). Everytime the spotlight is on her, she’s nasty or cruel, but when she’s in the background you can pick out parts about how she’s really not what the main narrative (Feyre’s pov) conveys her to be. Even pointing to Nesta’s arc and Feyre’s actions in it, the book doesn’t try to say that they’re bad, it even tries to say that’s they’re good, but it still comes off as negative to many because it’s not concerned with making her look perfect. It’s how Feyre would act without the Feyre-tinted glasses.

A lot of the evidence people point to of Feyre being selfish or classist or what have you comes from moments that are not in your face about “Oh look how kind she is!”. And I think missing this really just continues to show that a lot of readers only look for direct explanations of actions or character and take whatever’s given at face value.

What I’m trying to convey is very hard for me to put into words, so I hope you’re able to kinda understand, but if someone smarter than me is able to do so, please do 😭😭

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanny has a FNAF game question for Michael..