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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

By anychance can you write something along the lines of..

Simon x (fem) reader

Simon who goes out to the bar and leaves with the reader but he thinks she's a prostitute (b/c of the way the she was flirting with him)💀 and leave money on the table and she's sumwhats offended when she wakes up but takes the money anyways.. they hook up again.. he leaves money and y/n gets fed up and tells him she's not.. a relationship sumwhat building off of that

"Say cheese!" 🤵🏾‍♀️📸 👩

What You Paid For // Simon!FemReader

Summary: Simon had no shame indulging in escorts, especially ones who make an effort to flirt with him. Only problem? You're not an escort.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), strong language, smut, oral sex (g.), p^rn w/ little plot, unsafe sex, fem!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: this took forever omg ;') not proofread, so don't mind mistakes

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? // ao3 ver.

The bar itself is an establishment of contradictions.

The counter is rich mahogany that exudes an air of sophistication, yet its edges are rough and worn, and the crowd is anything but graceful. A collection of vintage chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, but their lighting casts a warm and attractive glow upon the room.

Behind the bar, a vast array of liquors is proudly displayed on ornate shelves, each bottle catching the glint of candlelight. You tap your fingers against the bar, pulling out your wallet. “Champagne?”

The bartender shakes his head, “we’re fresh out, Ma’am, apologies.”

Of course, they’d be out of it, given the sheer amount of people in here. You sigh, blurting out the first common drink you can think of, “I’ll do a Gin and Tonic, then.” You slide a bill across the bar, but there’s another hand—and he’s sliding a greater wad of cash, and quicker.

“Kentucky. Leave the bottle.” The gravel in his voice tells a thousand stories, as does the large shadow he’s casting on you.

You put your cashback in your pocketbook, examining the hand resting on the bar next to you. His forearm is heavily tattooed; skulls, flames, dog tags, the works. “Thanks for paying.” You fist the drink when it’s slid across the bar, finally laying your eyes on him.

His comes shortly after; a burly build, black bomber jacket, and a skull-printed balaclava. Definitely, an appearance you’ll remember with any amount of alcohol in your system.

“Mhm.” His thumb caresses the rim of his glass and his eyes travel you from top to bottom. The man clearly isn’t fond of words, or eye contact for more than ten seconds. It’s obvious he wants something to look at while he works on the bottle, that much is obvious. A man as anti-social as him wouldn’t be standing there if he didn’t want to be.

Your painted lips wrap around the skinny cocktail straw, your tastebuds hit with a mix of bubbles and burn. “You from around here?”

“Here and there.” He’s from Manchester, or somewhere near there, that’s all his vagueness tells you. Can you really be upset at him for eye-fucking you? He hasn’t gotten too close for comfort or gone anywhere near your drink, and those hands, they’re trouble. Though, with a frame like his, you would need to brace yourself before—

Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself. Focus.

You sip some more, a bigger one this time; the drink you ordered is now about half empty. “You don’t belong here, do you?” Perhaps it was the sting in your throat allowing the words to come out more freely.

With a grunt rather than a response, he chugs his shot. “What makes you say that, love?” You can see his cocked brow from under the fabric, and it makes your mind wander again. Going off his lashes, he’s probably got a head of blonde hair. The rest of the ogling? It’s interrupted by his impatient need for an answer.

“You just seem like a… rugged type.” Hot. He was hot.

Needing a distraction, you find the lime slice used as a garnish. If you were being honest, it was a cool-off. You needed to play it cool, try not to scare off the least skittish guy here; something only you could manage. The glug of him pouring another glass replaces his lack of engagement. He lifts the fabric of his mask again, tossing back another. Despite the lack of pacing himself, he’s remained untouched by the shots.

The man smacks his lips slightly, leaning just a bit closer. “Rugged, huh?” You could swear there was a smirk under that mask, and it was driving you insane. Instinctually, you need to find something to occupy your flushed silence with; the lime slice.

You raise it to your lips with a nod at his words, giving the fruit a bite. Your face scrunches from the acidity, though you’ve tried to play it off. Instead of deterring the tension between you two, it only drew attention towards your lips, how they’ve embraced the lime. Some of the citrus pools on your lip, a stray tear dripping down your chin, but you haven’t noticed.

If your goal was to be a tease, consider yourself victorious.

He could practically feel the heat gathering in his core. Though the teasing was unnecessary, it added to your services. They were services, right? The woman he paid for just happened to be an escort—a ravishing one at that.

There wasn’t any shame in indulging, he was never in town for more than a month at a time.

Your fingers find your chin, wiping the juice away with a swipe, not a clue in your mind how arousing that was. “What’s your name?” You have to yell a bit over the bass and lean in closer to his ear. The smell of him is more intoxicating than the array of bottles behind the bar combined.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head in the direction of the door, and he’s already disappeared into the crowd before you can reply. You uncross your legs and get to your feet, slamming the last of your drink before following his path to the door.

You’ve reached the entrance of the bar, still consumed by the volume of the music. Surely, his build would be easy to spot in a crowd. You’re on your toes, neck craned up to see through the crowd, but the other patron’s movements have you dazed and trapped.

Through the paned windows, you spot a shadow cast on the pavement, a still one. Either it’s the nameless man or your flirting sent him running for the hills.

You do your best to shove through the crowd, finally able to breathe when the icy air stings your cheeks. Your panting and searching were cut short by your back hitting a cement wall, an unusually gentle hand placed on your waist to keep you steady.

That scent is suffocating again; mint, tobacco, and whiskey. The nerves of being jerked into an alley settle when your senses answer all the questions.

His thumb rubs a circle against the fabric of your dress, giving some pressure when his voice is heard again. “Simon.” The question you asked in there, is now answered. “Now, answer my question. Either I’m being a knob, or you want something from me, hm?”

His eyes glow in the shadows of the alley and they don’t budge. Of course, you want this, you were only speechless.

You feel yourself nod, though the only sensations you can focus on are his scent and the tingles of attraction his fingertips are causing you.

“Right,” Simon scoffs, slightly pressing his chest closer to yours, “are you gonna take me where you’re stayin’, or are we doing this here?” His head looks left and right, a silent notice of the city oozing with chaotic nightlife.

Your breath is visible in front of you the longer you walk down the street. The hotel you’re staying in is within a minute's distance, and your neediness is thanking you for it. His shadow is close behind, but his head is looking straight ahead, both hands in his pockets.

Finally, the both of you reach the breezeway of the hotel. Simon’s breathing gets heavier, and so close you can feel the breeze against your ear. Large hands slither around your waist, fondling as the electronic beep of your suite door sounds.

The breeze of the heating system clashes with the goosebumps formed on your skin—and they aren’t because of the cold air. His legs nudge yours ahead, daring you to stumble if he didn’t have an arm wrapped around you. He’s so close; the way you had been fantasizing about in the bar from the moment his hand slid across the mahogany.

The bag you were holding finds the floor as quickly as the room door shuts.

Though his hands never leave your waist, he steps in front of you, stopping when the back of his legs hit the end of the bed. His weight settled against the mattress with a groan, then his hands found his belt, impatiently tugging at it.

“Don’t just stand there. Kneel.” His voice is a hungry muffle through the mask, but his amber eyes are all the convincing you needed. With both palms on his toned thighs, your shivering legs buckled until you were level with his bulge.

His fingers peeled back the waistband of his boxers after he shifted his jeans down. Simon wasn’t making an effort of getting entirely undressed, he rarely did. His erection sprung from his boxers, the tip of it dripping in arousal already. Seeing it was much more daunting than visualizing it; intimidating, even. But were you going to get up off the floor? Not a chance.

His fist clamped around his length, giving it a few strokes as he watched your lips intently as if picturing the inevitable lude act ahead of him. The image of the lime juice dribbling down your chin was egging his urges to a high.

You scooted up closer, his inner thighs pressing against your shoulders. Next, your fingers found the base of his length, replacing the strokes of his hands for him. Simon only stared hungrily, lifting the hem of his shirt so it was out of your way. Your lips parted slightly, mouth salivating, as aching and doused as your core. You flattened your tongue along the head, just enough for him to shift his hips ever so slightly. “Don’t be a tease.” His hands grasp around the edge of the mattress, leaning back to get a full view of your tongue teasing his cock.

He says it with such conviction—as if he isn’t the most well-endowed man you’ve gone down on. If you weren’t so blinded by lust, you just might have rolled your eyes at the comment, even come up with some alluring remark about his size. But you’ve occupied your mouth, sliding from his tip to base slowly and mimicking drinking from a straw.

“Fuck…” His curse comes out like a hiss, caged by his gritted teeth. Though it’s only been seconds of your mouth on him, he can’t resist his hands finding the back of your head, nudging forward each pass your warm mouth makes.

Now, the tip of your nose collides with his pelvic bone, a methodical gag with each thrust. Your cheeks hollowed around his thick length, despite the stretch it was to fit him in your mouth. You tease the underside of his cock with your tongue, tracing each vein and small curve with vigor—undoubtedly only multiplying his sensitivity. “You look even prettier like this, swallowing my cock.” Tears have pricked at the corner of your eyes, showing through your hooded stare up at him.

His head pushes increase in speed, and you can feel his tip bruising the back of your throat, causing heavier breaths through your nose. The last thing you’re going to do is tap out for air, not with the attractive sight in front of you. Your scalp burns from the press of his fingertips, but it’s an arousing pain. He’s remained in charge this whole time, but even he can’t conceal his need for release.

Simon’s grunts and groans have grown louder, his head is thrown back, and he’s bucking his hips upward into your mouth to meet his pushes. By now, the muscles in your jaw have given way, enough for you to withstand all the force of his jerks.

“Almost done, sweetheart.” He’s no longer teetering on the cliff of release—he’s there. The hand on the back of your head gives your hair a yank, keeping you in place as he uses his thrusts to finish himself off.

Your eyes flutter shut, hearing the feral moans paired with his hot seed spurting down your throat. “Swallow for me, that’s it.” He watches the muscles of your sore throat muscles constrict and unwind, with no sign of the semen oozing from your lips. Only your own saliva is, a string of it visible when you pull yourself away from his length.

Simon fingers his pocket, finding and pulling out a condom. “Think you can manage this for me?” He presses the jagged corner of the pouch to your wet lips. You sink your teeth into the foil edge, pulling your head back until it rips open. He slides the latex down on his length, stomach still rising and falling from the intensity of his finish.

Before leaning back on the bed, he clamps a hand around your upper arm, pulling you up with him. He shifts himself back to not hang off the edge, re-positioning the both of you with little effort. Then, he lifts up your dress enough to be faced with your soaked undergarments, followed by a slight ‘tsk’ under his breath. You’re eager by this point, now that your tender throat is a constant reminder of what he had been blessed with, and how profoundly you’re yearning for this man.

With some shifting of your legs, you roll the panties off and toss them aside. Once you’ve returned to your original position, hovering over his length as it rests against his stomach, he cocks his head. “You can’t be tired yet, haven’t even touched you.” It’s a mocking, downright patronizing scoff, but it’s bleeding with allure.

You peer down at his twitching length, wrapping your fingertips around the shaft until you’ve guided him in front of your entrance. Simon’s merely enjoying the show, the gears whirling in your head as you work out the mathematics of the act. His tip is being eased by your hands until he feels a small bit of warmth swallowing it, the familiar squelch of your slick core being eased onto his swollen cock. Your eyes flutter shut as you sink lower, feeling both the burn of the stretch and the alleviation of all the aching you felt for him.

His large hands find each of your hips, feeling your shaky hips eventually collapse fully onto his length, gandering a drawn-out groan from his lips. The only part of his face you can see, his eyes; they’ve rolled slightly—now a hooded stare of hunger.

You start to roll your hips, his length is as deep as possible in this position. Each hand resting on your waist rolls up your dress more until everything below your belly button is in his sight. “Knew you would take it all, pretty minx like you.” He mutters, his accent stronger when wasted with ardor.

For now, you’re easing yourself in circles on his length, relishing in the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. Gently enough to yield no discomfort, but with enough force to kick off the waves of pleasure coursing through you. The burn in your thighs is the only discouraging part about this, only seconds in and your lower half feels weaker.

“Need some help?” He says smugly, an unhurried thrust upwards into you to eliminate your body’s burden of control. The sensation makes you quake, a hushed moan escaping you. It seemed when you were so focused on doing all the work, you hadn’t made a sound. But now, your delight was on full display, deserving to be a stuttering mess by the end of tonight.

His fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress, rutting his hips upwards with more intensity. Your hands switch between grasping the white sheets to palms on his chest, unable to keep upright without the support of a surface. He gives little time for adjustment, only increasing the bucking of his hips with each second. Eventually, your gasps have turned into overwhelmed whines, a fucked-out expression forming on your face.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the hotel room, overpowered by the sounds of pleasure largely coming from your lips. Simon’s sounds have remained primal grunts and groans, profanities coming through gritted teeth when he bottoms out entirely.

You feel the familiar bubble of release in your abdomen, the clenching of your gummy walls each time he slides in and out of you. His name slips out a few times, gaining an amused, egotistical chuckle. You felt better around him than he could’ve imagined like he was the moment he saw the flesh of your thighs when you crossed your legs at the barstool; the dress fabric constricted them, begging to be wrapped around his waist and bouncing on his cock. And now, he has been granted his short-lived fantasy.

“Keep doin’ that, sweetheart.” Simon tossed his head back again, the sensitivity increasing when you pulsed around him. The warmth around his length, the constriction of your core, the moans of approval—he was doomed to climax again. You’ve gathered enough endurance to move your hips with him. They clash with each meeting thrust, a jolt of electricity every time he pumps so deep. Even if this is cut short by his finish, the feeling of him inside you now is enough.

Your back arches, seemingly stuck with tense muscles as your core endures his drilling. A small portion of your climax has hit you when he changes the angle, making you cry out even louder. He’s gotten shaky and sloppy, and his physical strength is the only thing allowing this amount of speed.

“Gonna—” He begins, rutting with even more aggression, so much you’ve been left at a standstill. His words are cut short by the shake of his thighs, then a slow decrease in his intensity. “Bloody fuck...” Simon’s eyes shut briefly as he finishes, the grip on your waist unyielding until it passes. Your chest heaves above him, his length still embedded deep while you both recover.

The once-arched posture turns into a tired slump, eyes half-lidded as a satisfied sneer spreads on your face. It wasn’t a dissatisfying hook-up, it was one for the books. You can feel his muscles relax beneath you, a twitching cock sliding out of you until it lays flaccid against his inner thigh. His fingers find the hem of your dress and push the fabric back down, and even he’s surprised it didn’t fray from his iron grip.

You swing your legs off him, crawling to the side of the bed occupied with your things. Simon didn’t use many words, and you were too exhausted for them anyways; your legs had turned to putty minutes ago.

You hear the snap of his waistband, then the shuffling of denim being pulled up his firm thighs. With your back turned to him, you don’t see him dig into his wallet and place some bills on the neighboring nightstand, folded in half neatly. Once the suite door shuts behind him, your drowsy eyes have fluttered to a tight close.

————— ୨୧ —————

Things were… complicated when you woke up and saw the money left on the nightstand, next to a scribbled phone number. Were you offended? Yes. Were you flattered? Also yes

Simon wasn’t the type of hookup you just brushed off, enjoy for the night, then forget it ever happened. Vivid flashbacks plagued you the entire morning, as did how you were still wearing last night's clothes, and your makeup had been ruined.

Whoever—whatever he was; he knew how to carry himself.

If you never saw him again, the night would be nothing but an erotic memory. But, it was worth a shot to reach out.

Your finger hovered over the call button for about a minute, hesitancy gnawing at you. He wouldn’t give this to you if he didn’t want you to reach out. Why him, the most mysterious bloke in the bar? Was it too early in the afternoon to contact him? Did you look too available?

Imagining the sensations all over again, that’s what swayed you. Worst case, he refuses the company or doesn’t pick up.

Each ring had you shaking your head, losing both your dignity and confidence in the bold move.

… “Hello?”

The gravel in his voice told you he had very recently been sleeping off last night’s activities. You practically pinched yourself, cringing at the sound of your own voice when you replied.

“It’s me. I wasn’t sure if I should call right away but… I can’t stop thinking about last night.” You rolled your eyes at yourself, ashamed of the reflection you saw through the hotel mirror. This was ridiculous, right? Downright needy?

A nerve-racking chuckle can be heard as if he was feeding on your humiliation. His voice had a little hint of unsteady as if he wasn’t expecting a call.

“Gave you some sweet dreams, then, huh?” His dry attempt at flirting made your face sizzle with warmth.

His faux self-assurance rang for miles, though it was abundantly clear he couldn’t care less about how he presented himself. What you see, that’s what you get from him.

You liked what you saw. Very much.

“I was thinking,” you began, squeezing the puffy duvet with all your might, “we could get together. Tonight?” You bit down on your lip with so much force, you pricked it with your teeth.

There were a few seconds of silence on the other line, then the faint shuffle within sheets. You impatiently licked away the drop of metallic crimson, expecting the beep of a terminated call.

“Like the sound of that.” His smugness almost had you doing a lap around the hotel room.

You hadn’t the slightest clue what you were in for, but there was not a chance in hell you were bailing on tonight.

————— ୨୧ —————

Why did you feel the need to clean an already spotless hotel room? You didn’t have a clue either. The thought of sending a maid in there had you brainstorming senseless scenarios; the underpaid housekeeper knowing precisely what you were up to.

But you had no reason to feel ridiculous. He agreed, you two were consenting adults, what’s the harm?

Everything looked untouched, almost passable for a vacant room except for your bags. You dug through said luggage and found a more relaxed evening outfit.

He seemed like the punctual type. Looking at the digits on the digital clock, you counted down the minutes. The clock hit six o'clock—then a few additional minutes had you convinced he skipped town.

You almost tumbled off the futon when three faint taps sounded on the door.

6:03 PM

You spread the blinds with two fingers, seeing the familiar broad shoulder resting against the wall, the faint fog of his breath in the bitter evening air. Taking a look in the mirror, you examined your appearance once more—then made your way to the door. With a heavy sigh, the door creaked open, revealing him.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping aside to let him step in. Any other greeting seemed too formal, yet the one you uttered seemed too relaxed.

You pressed a palm on the flesh of your hips, both hands at your sides after shutting the door. Seeing him so soon, it seemed ludicrous, but his aura was addictive. His boots shuffled against the carpet, footing inside with hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Didn’t have to dress nice for me.” Simon sat on the futon, legs spread wide as he leaned against the backrest.

You settled on the bed adjacent to him, shaking your head to shake away the flushed feeling his rasp gave you. “I wanted to,” you replied, looking up from your lap, “do you want to watch something?” You wanted to smack a palm on your forehead. Watch something? Simon knows why you called him here, and you haven’t been exactly subtle.

“You can put something on. Can’t promise I’ll be watching the movie, though.” He said with the slightest glint of eroticism in his eyes. To cope with the urge to tear his clothes off right then and there, you slid the channel list off the end table, entering the most promising one. It was a dated slasher film, interesting enough to keep your attention. You fiddled with the pamphlet for a few seconds, before setting it back on the nightstand.

His stare hadn’t broken, earning a chuckle from you, “what is it?” You question, running a hand over the tucked bedding. Simon wanted you, right then. Why else had you called him? You wanted more business, it was so obvious to him.

“Never met anyone like you.” What he wanted to say was that he’s never met an escort like you. You were selling the whole quality time and date night act well. And he had fallen for it, spending the whole night yearning for another night with you, to be a few hundred dollars less by the end of the night.

You let out a small scoff, keeping your eyes glued to the TV. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment, Simon.” You were, purely because you pictured that cash he gave you. Had it truly been that good of an experience for him? Someone with more than enough practice in the bedroom?

“Take it however you want,” you heard him shuffle, and then his shadow cast on your frame.

You turned your head when you felt a finger tracing your chin, then running along your bottom lip. “As long as I can hear your voice.” His touch made you shiver slightly, sending a rush of head down your hammering chest. So much for warming up with a movie.

The urge to kiss him had never been stronger, but you didn’t dare reach for the fabric concealing his lips. You couldn’t blow this now, not after a day of picturing the second round with him. “You’re giving me those eyes again. You want something?” Your head nodded, though you were speechless from desire. Simon chuckled lowly, admiring your meek effort to answer him.

His hand tightened around your jaw, taking on the role of the commanding figure in the room. “What kind of prick would I be to keep you waiting, then?” His true nature was to give, it was only fair considering how good you were to him the previous night.

The unoccupied hand slid up your thigh until he reached the hem of your shirt, hiking up the fabric until he gave the back of your bra a tug, releasing the hooks until it slid off. His large hands fondled your breasts, running a gentle thumb over the nipple until you produced a soft gasp for him. When he grew impatient, which took little time, he pulled the shirt off your head until your top half was on full display to him.

Slowly but surely, the positions shifted until he was hovering over you on the bed, his knee between your legs. You rocked against it for friction, the pressure of his kneecap pressing on your clothed clit, now slightly swollen from arousal. “A little impatient aren’t we?” He cooed into your ear, the statement plain hypocritical. He couldn’t even sit through a minute of the film you put on before he was looking at you like a piece of meat on a platter.

He picked up the pace of his hands, indulging your impatience. Within seconds, you found yourself on your stomach, the bottoms you were wearing being pulled down with a harsh yank. He lifted each of your legs until you were rid of all your clothes entirely. Now, you were below him and at his mercy; the opposite of last night.

You raised your hips slightly upon feeling his bulge pressed against your ass, a painful tease considering how needy you were. He grasped one of your thighs, spreading them enough to trace his fingers along your core from behind. “Guess I was right.” He purrs into your ear, inserting a finger into your cunt. Simon slowly pumped his finger in and out, adding a second when enough slick pooled down to his knuckles.

His fingers were long enough to stimulate places only your hands could dream of; a foreign, but insatiable sensation to you. You arched your back and writhed feeling the preparation of his fingers, sliding down a hand of your own to circle your clit. But you needed more; he needed more, and he didn’t want you getting sloppy like last night.

Simon withdrew his fingers, snaking one arm around your midsection to keep you in place. “Keep still for me, love.” He murmured straight into your ear, the low octave giving you the chills. Behind you, he tugs at the waistband of his jeans and boxers simultaneously, exposing his stiff length. He could waste time teasing you, it would be so easy with you this desperate. But you didn’t finish last night, and he was aching to feel you come undone around his length.

With one arm still keeping your lower half in place, he guided his cock to your pulsing core, easing himself inside inch by inch. Your breathing hitched, despite this being the second time you felt him stretching you out. Simon eased deeper, until he bottomed out and could feel the bulge of himself through the hand on your stomach.

His thrusts were snappy and deep, his palm pressing on your stomach to enhance the pleasure you were feeling. A spark of pleasure ignited into a consuming wave, making you sputter and mewl at his expense. This was different than last night, not as focused on him, though he was enjoying this just as much. When he went home that night before bed, spending several minutes pumping his length, he was imagining pumping your tight, sticky walls; his fist didn’t compare, not in the slightest. This was too much. But he wouldn’t stop until you finished.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Simon rutted into you with force, moving the hand from your stomach to the base of your throat, pulling you up so your curved back was against his chest. His lips trailed along the back of your neck, peppering sloppy licks and kisses on your prickled flesh.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization—he had lifted his mask, maybe even taken it off his head completely.

His saliva coated your neck in small spots, adding to the array of sensations, similar to a violent whiplash of pleasure. It was like the previous night, waves of pleasure with each of his slamming thrust into your needy core. Your gummy walls pulsed around him, drawing groans and rolls of his eyes, a slight nibble on your earlobe to keep his approaching climax contained.

Your words were an inconsolable quake by this point. “Fuck— Simon—” A hushed sniggle came through Simon’s agape lips, urging him to make one final move to push you over the edge. He slithered his hand from your throat until it found the nape of your neck, pushing your upper body forward so only your hips remained raised. The switch allowed him to hit an even deeper angle, his balls slapping against your rear with each deafening thrust.

Though his hands were firm when folding you, his words remained gentle and praising, as if he was enjoying them himself. “Gonna cum for me, hm?” He teased with a deep inhale, both hands now thrusting your hips backward onto his length—not easing up on his intensity.

Fire pooled in your lower abdomen, like a swirling inferno going to burst any second. Everything seemed to burn, with the exception of your core. Your muscles ache and contract, a thin layer of sweat formed on your skin, the indents of his fingertips seared doomed to be seared into your memory for days following.

All the building, tight churning; it shattered within seconds of his relentless pounding. You let out a choked sob of pleasure, squeezing your eyes shut as you writhed and twitched around his cock. The deepness of his thrusts, the speed of them, doomed you to the prolonged climax you were expecting.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” the firm hand on your nape releases once your high ceases, “so good for me.” It seemed the moment you hit your own breaking point, he lost all the stamina he had used to prevent his own. Only seconds later, his thrusts had turned sloppy and slow, easing in and out until he drained every last drop of his seed inside you.

What once was a heat from your high, it was now the warmth of his semen pooling inside of your core, seeping out the slower he went. Your hips remained raised, though your thighs burned and shook from the intensity of the activity. When Simon’s hands withdrew from your hips, you rolled onto your side as he removed his sensitive cock.

By the time you turned to face him, the balaclava had already been pulled down over his face again. If you weren’t so vividly focused on the sensations, you might’ve forgotten about how his lips felt. There was no way, not after he made you finish like that.

He tucked his length into his boxers, then pulled up his jeans again, but didn’t bother to button them up again. “How much do I owe you, love?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, peeling away apart his stacks of cash.

You were so caught up in the moment previously, you forgot to mention the elephant in the room. You weren’t an escort, just a woman who hit the hookup lottery. “You know I’m not a hooker, right?” You sat up in the bed, finding the spare quilt and wrapping it around your naked frame.

“Should I be offended?” You questioned again, filling his stunned silence. He was trying to conceal his shock, but his freeze said it all.

He folded his wallet again, tucking it away with a silent glare. Now, you were just plain apprehensive about his answer. At first, the money was flattering, that you were that good for him. But now? What if all he thought of you was a hussy he found in a pub?

When he noticed your crumbling humor about the situation, he scrambled to place a hand on your waist, “this is my bad. You were just— you were plain amazing, sweetheart. I thought you were an over-qualified escort, not some…”

Wow. That could’ve come out better.

The faltered confidence now turned into a grimace, a playful one. His scramble to correct himself, to ensure he didn’t hurt your feelings—it was charming. You couldn’t conceal your snicker as he leaned close, eyes swallowed with guilt.

“I’m not upset, Simon. Not anymore, at least.” You retorted, holding the hand that was on your waist.

Simon let out a sigh of relief, eyes studying you for any sign of doubt. His fingers caressed the fabric of the quilt, brows knitted together with half-seriousness.

You chuckled at his brooding exterior, his whole-hearted attempt at swaying you into being irate. “Was I worth the money?”

He nodded his head sluggishly, the fabric over his mouth shifting as he gave a smirk. “I don’t think any bloke can put a worthy price on that.”

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n

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pianokantzart · 1 year ago

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Hi Piano! I love your posts and your comics! I loved the idea of making a Luigi's mansion film, I even posted some ideas, do you have ideas for a Luigi mansion film?

Thank you! I have touched upon the idea a bit, with @keakruiser adding some thoughts of their own. But I do have more...

Mario and Luigi start off the movie having money issues despite the booming business. Maybe they accidentally caused some sort of serious damage that they need to pay for? Maybe there's a family emergency? Or maybe they've been too generous with free plumbing repairs to the point that the bills are catching up with them. Either way, I want all the gold and cash that Luigi vacuums up to have some sort of serious significance.

Luigi tries to talk to his father and uncles about the plumbing business at Sunday dinner, but they all speak over him in favor of talking to Mario. Mario tries to nudge the conversation in Luigi's direction, but Luigi eventually gives up and goes to the kitchen to help his mother with dishes. There he has a little heart to heart with his mom, similar to this scrapped scene from the SMB Movie concept art, but with Luigi instead of Mario:

Please please please make The Dark Moon an element! Establish that it isn't just Mario's life on the line, but an entire world at risk of being swarmed by angry ghosts under King Boo's control.

And of course we need to have Polterpup! Let's say that "animals are the among the few spirits who don't need to be soothed by the dark moon," but unfortunately that matters very little to Luigi, who has an established fear of dogs. So we go into why! Maybe he got attacked by a dog as a young child and needed Mario to save him? This would feed into both Luigi's sense of helplessness, and guilt about being so frightened while his brother is so brave and selfless.

As Luigi gets more victories under his belt, and as Polterpup follows him around and helps out, they start to form a bond. Eventually we get a Puss In Boots 2 esque scene where Luigi has an anxiety attack after loosing radio contact with E. Gadd, before Polterpup floats over and helps calm him down enough to keep moving.

Have Luigi's semi-canon mechanical prowess come into play! At some point, midway through a particularly grueling fight, the poltergust gets damaged. Between running for his life, hiding in various locations, and knocking things over to buy himself time, Luigi steadily fixes the damage enough to pull through the fight.

Luigi and Elvin Gadd bond over being two (vaguely autistic-coded) weirdos. Luigi is surprised that Elvin Gadd doesn't mind trusting him with his equipment, that he doesn't get annoyed with his fear, and doesn't mind walking him through every tiny step. Meanwhile Elvin Gadd is like "Patient with you??? I love walking you through things step by step! You're one of the few people who'll actually listen to my ramblings! And yeah, you're clearly scared, but you've stayed! That's way more than most."

I imagine the people trapped in paintings are able to speak and move around, but King Boo can set their painting to a sort of "stagnant mode" if the captive gets too rowdy or mouthy. Mario's picture is mostly kept in stagnant mode for obvious reasons.

King Boo's confidence visibly wavers the further along Luigi gets. King Boo goes from "Why should I be worried? E. Gadd's a decrepit fool and his new 'apprentice' is a sniveling coward!" to "Okay so Luigi can use the poltergust... he's no match for my forces!" to "What is wrong with all of you!? Why can't you catch a simple plumber!?" to "I'm going to tear this man's soul apart with my teeth!"

Bowser was heavy metal, so I want King Boo to be operatic with a Gothic/Baroque ballroom aesthetic. Of course we've got to have orchestral version of the Luigi's Mansion theme, but I also want a cinematic revamp of the SMBW "Night At Boo's Opera" song.

youtube

You know how Luigi broke down laughing and sobbing when he finally saved Mario in the original Luigi's Mansion? That. I want that, with an extra dose of Mario hugging Luigi and reassuring him that he's alright.

#long post #Luigi's Mansion #Super Mario Bros #professor e gadd #Luigi #Mario #King Boo #Mario Movie #again I could go on but those are my main ideas #dragon-fly34 #askbox

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whatdoidosatoru · 10 months ago

Text

Sweet Nothings

PART 4 of The Only Exception

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ao3 wc: 4938 pairing: Baji x OC (reader insert bc oc is very vaguely described) tags: smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), face-sitting, fingering, thigh-fucking, dirty talk, penetrative sex, he's so nice!!!!!

tag list: @bontensbabygirl @mrsryuguji - thank you so much for expressing interest for this fic I genuinely feel like crying when I think about it!

summary: post-exam stress turns into a fun night meeting Baji's friends :)

music:

Sweet Nothings - Neck Deep

Just The Girl - The Click Five

She’s a God - Neck Deep

Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy

You and I - Anarbor

Feeling This - blink-182

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

MINORS DNI!!!! 18+

Baji

The following week went by incredibly slowly. Yuna and I had classes and work so we couldn’t see each other, but we kept messaging throughout most of our days, apart from when we were working.

Every time I felt my phone vibrating I felt giddy, like a teenager in love. The feeling was explosive, overwhelming. That girl will be the death of me. Even Chifuyu couldn’t help but notice and take the piss out of me for it.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much since you stopped beating people up for shits and giggles.”

“Piss off, Chifuyu, I’m the embodiment of sunshine. I’m always smiling.”

Chifuyu laughed, “Sure, that’s why that old lady ran away when she saw you in front of our building today. Because you’re too cheerful.”

I flipped him off, still grinning at my phone and the latest selfie from Yuna while Chifuyu was setting up a show for us to watch.

Yuna🖤💙, 21:36

if my future werent on the line id just sleep in tomorrow tbh my eyes cannot stay open anymore midterms will be the death of me fuck this shit wanna move in with me in a cottage in the middle of nowhere and own some goats off the grid well get some cats as well ill take my dog back from my parents just us and animals and sometimes mai you can invite matsuno to visit tell him to bring us books when he visits

Boyfriend Material🧛🏻, 21:40

You’ve definitely got a good plan there But please go to sleep, you need rest before your exam <3 I’ll be home by the time you’ve finished and you can come over for lunch if you’d like

Yuna🖤💙, 21:42

thats kinda making me wet ngl

Boyfriend Material🧛🏻, 21:43

Lunch is making you wet? Have I told you how weird you are?

Yuna🖤💙, 21:43

you making me food and also coming to your place is, dumbass but anyway! off to sleep i go, tell matsuno im taking him up on that challenge to beat his ass in uno when i meet him good night hot stuff <3

Boyfriend Material🧛🏻, 21:44

Go to sleep, woman! And have the best dreams, preferably of me c; And good luck!!!! For tomorrow!! I know you’ll smash it!!! <33333

“Yuna’s coming over tomorrow after her exam to wipe the floor with you in uno.”

Chifuyu threw his head back and let out a villainous laugh.

“Does she know she’s talking to a master strategist and an uno master?"

“Listen, I know you’re my best friend an-”

“Brother, but continue.”

“....and all that. But if I’m not in her corner I don’t have sex. So if I have to make team Yuna t-shirts don’t be surprised.”

To that, he launched a piece of popcorn at me.

When I got back from work I jumped into the shower, counting down the minutes until Yuna came. When I finished making noodles, she rang the bell to be let upstairs. I all but sprinted to the door to let her in, standing with the apartment door open, just in my towel, waiting to see her face.

“I hope that food I smell is for me because if I don’t have something in my mouth in a minute I’ll riot.”

She was grumpy and tired, it was obvious from the way she dragged her feet on the stairs.

“I’ve got something you can put in your mouth.”

“Baji-kun I’m gonna bite it off.”

“Ooooh ‘Baji-kun’? I didn't think you were this serious. The food is ready, there will be no need for biting off my dick, you hater.”

Yuna reached up to grab my face and kissed it before making her way inside. She’d never been inside my apartment before, but the kitchen was right next to the front door, so she didn’t have to wander before lunch. I served her the food, sitting down next to her to eat and hear about her day.

“...and I knew he was going to put that ridiculous text in the exam and I almost screamed when I saw it. Unfortunately, Hana said she didn’t even get to that part with her revision so I didn’t have anyone to check the answers with.”

She practically inhaled the noodles and vegetables, doing a little dance as she ate.

“But anyway, I’m getting the results in a week, which is shit because if I failed it’s gonna ruin the whole night out! These are amazing by the way. I haven’t eaten all day until now so sorry if I was hangry.”

She was tripping her own sentences, trying to say everything at once. All I wanted to do was grab her face and smother her in affection, but I was trying to give her space to relax and reach out when she wanted to.

When I told her about my day, we moved to my bedroom. As she was taking it all in, lingering on the vinyl collection, I towel-dried my hair and started to look for some clothes to put on, but she stopped me, dragging me toward the bed and pushing me down.

“I could hardly focus on what you were saying earlier.”

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“The food was amazing, but I want to taste you.”

Oh. I see. She unwrapped the towel from around my hips with a pleading look in her eyes. I pulled her hair up and used her own hair tie from my wrist to tie it back. With a soft smile, she took my cock into her mouth, not breaking eye contact.

My eyes rolled back and I struggled to keep myself sitting up to look at her. All I wanted was to lie down and process the sensation, but the intensity in her gaze was somehow holding me in place, the only thing moving was my mouth to let out a moan.

“Fuck it’s so warm,” I managed to squeeze out as she nodded, hummed in affirmation, and licked along my slit, teasing with her soft tongue. I wanted to burn this into the insides of my eyelids - Yuna on her knees between my legs, one hand on my balls, the other on my shaft, and her beautiful mouth enveloping my cock, hollowed-out cheeks as she sucked in air around it, her head bobbing up and down slightly, and most importantly, her eyes gazing into mine like she was memorising every detail of my face that was twisting into expressions of pure pleasure.

“Your mouth is so pretty-ah-when you do this. Fuck you’re so hot like this.”

My words just kept coming. She needed to know how she made me feel and it seemed to make her hollow out her cheeks even more and suck with more intensity - I felt my orgasm coming rapidly.

“I’m so close sweets, can you take it?”

In reply her hand found mine and placed it on her ponytail so I gripped it tight, leading her into the pace I needed to finally exhale and spurt cum into her throat. She carefully removed her mouth from my cock and opened it to show me milky white cum on her tongue, promptly swallowing it and showing me her empty mouth.

I groaned and pulled her into my lap for a deep kiss, her hands flew to the back of my head to grip my hair and she was straddling my lap. My hands were holding her hips tightly squeezing her skin and I could feel the heat radiating from her pussy.

She started rubbing myself on my thigh, but only slightly. I held her tighter and moved her hips back and forth, intensifying the friction between her core and my leg. She started moaning into my mouth and keeping the pace on her own, clearly getting more and more pleasure than just with her own small movements.

“Keisuke I need you,” her moans were so cute, barely pronouncing my name through whines.

I pulled her off my lap to unbutton her jeans and take them off along with her underwear.

“How do you want me?” She moaned into my mouth as I swiped my fingers through her wet folds.

“All to myself, sweetness, but I’ll make do with your pussy on my face for now.”

I could feel her arousal leaking, soon to be smeared on my face. I lay on my back, waiting for her to position herself over me, she gripped the bed frame and hovered above me.

“I’m gonna need you to get lower, can’t reach you like this.” I grabbed her thighs to try and lower her.

“I’m scared I’ll crush you!”

How cute.

“What a way to die, feasting on your sweetness, suffocated by sweet,” I lightly slapped her thigh where it met her ass, “soft thighs of a gorgeous woman. Now sit.”

With that, I pulled her all the way onto my face and, as soon as she was met with my eager tongue, she let out a scrumptious moan. I licked a long strip from her entrance all the way to her clit and started circling the soft sensitive bud and spelling out my name on it. Every time the tip of my tongue finished an S, I could feel her thighs twitch, making me dig my fingers into her.

Her moans turned to whimpers, whimpers to cries, and with a breathy cry of my name she tightened…and let go. I drank her release slowly, gently, to not overwhelm her, and let go of her thighs. She collapsed on the bed next to me, breathing heavily.

“I’ve…fuck I’ve never done that before.” With a quick roll, I was above her, pinning her to the bed and kissing her deeply, making her taste herself on my lips.

“Stick around and this won’t be the last time.” I winked at her and helped her up to put her clothes on.

I rummaged around my wardrobe looking for a minute and pulled out a dark grey band hoodie. Yuna’s eyes widened when I handed it to her.

“I told you I’d give you a hoodie you can sniff like a weirdo.”

“Kei…The Black Parade? If I had any energy left I’d cry. Thank you."

She launched herself at me with arms wide open. I embraced her tightly and kissed the top of her head. If I’d known this would make her so happy I would’ve done it right away. She got her book bag and I went to put the plates away before we went to her flat to get her things.

I couldn’t believe my absolute luck that I got to flaunt her in front of my friends and she agreed to sleep over tonight. I was practically skipping on the way to hers. We were holding hands again and I swear I could feel her smile burning into the side of my head every time I stopped looking at her.

She packed up a pyjama top, toothbrush, some skincare stuff, and makeup while I was looking through her bookshelf, picking up some books to see what she read.

“Why doesn’t it say what they’re about on the back? Who is the Guardian and why am I supposed to care that they think this book is ‘moving and engaging by turns, with an ending to blow down walls’? Just tell me the plot dammit!”

Yuna laughed softly, “Unfortunately, it’s all too common these days. That’s why I rely on the internet.”

Placing the book back, my gaze went over a nail polish basket. Out of curiosity I picked up a few bottles to look at them more closely and was met with a light chuckle from the door.

“You want me to paint your nails, Kei?”

“I wouldn’t mind that. Do you have black?”

“Do I have….Baji Keisuke look at me and ask me that again.” She couldn’t keep a serious face on, immediately grinning at me.

“Fair point, so will you do it?”

She walked over to me, all of her stuff packed into a rucksack, and placed a kiss on my fingers.

“Of course. You’ll look even hotter with black nail polish on while you’re fingering me.”

Immediate hard-on. It wasn’t fair.

On our way back to mine, we stopped by a shop to get some snacks and drinks for tonight, I could feel Yuna growing more anxious by the minute. Having arrived at the apartment, I got to dusting and cleaning up while Yuna excused herself to my bedroom to put on some makeup - something about feeling more put together to help with her nerves. Chifuyu was on his way home from work so he should be the first one out of the group to meet her.

Twisted Firestarter, 14:26 She’s really nervous rn Please be nice to her Or I’ll burn your pillows c:

ChiFOOLyu, 14:27 I’M ALWAYS NICE I get it man don’t touch my stuff if you don’t want to be strangled in your sleep :D I’m home in 20 mins

Twisted Firestarter, 14:28 Just saying, the gang might be too much to handle so it’s be nice if she had another person apart from me to talk to

ChiFOOLyu, 14:29 👌

There was a knock on the door and a faint voice coming in, “I hope both of you are dressed because I don’t need any more jump scares today!”

With that, Chifuyu unlocked the front door and walked in, tossed his keys on the shelf in the hallway, and took his boots off before walking over to us sitting on the couch. Yuna took a deep breath and grinned at him, immediately turning to banter to mask her nervousness.

“Matsuno-kun, I heard you think you could hold a candle to my absolute domination at card games?”

Chifuyu all but threw himself onto the couch next to her, acting like they’d known each other for years.

“My deepest apologies, Yuna-sensei. All I want is a chance to play against a world-renowned master such as yourself. And you can call me Chifuyu, no need to be so formal.”

“Okay Fufu, but chumminess is not going to make me go easy on you.” She said with a wink. I liked seeing her growing more and more relaxed with Chifuyu, even though she was nervous as all hell earlier.

“Fufu? Aight…are you painting your nails, Keisuke?” He clocked one of my hands spread across Yuna’s lap, the other in the air trying not to smudge the freshly applied coat of black nail polish.

“I’m pretty sure you have eyes, Chi, Yuna is painting them, not me. And what of it?” I knew he didn’t mean anything negative by it, but it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t tease each other for no reason.

“Fuck off trying to insinuate shit. Yuna, could you paint mine as well? Might make me seem more badass since I’m not fighting anym-” A silent, but intense look in my eyes made him stop talking and smile at Yuna instead.

Yuna lifted her head to look at him when she finished painting my other hand and reached for Chifuyu after instructing me to be careful not to smudge anything.

“Wow your cuticles are so neat,” she inspected his hands before taking the nail polish and started applying, “what happened to your face anyway? That scratch looks fresh.”

They started chatting about all the cats we get at work and how some are absolute bastards to take care of, sometimes we get scratched up. Just looking at the energy between the two of them was soothing.

I no longer had to worry about there being any awkwardness in Yuna meeting my friends. I was still waiting for her answer to being my girlfriend, hopefully, tonight might make her see she is wanted and I wouldn’t hide her away.

A few hours later, after we dried our nails and joked around with Yuna, my phone rang. When I picked up, I could hear two sets of voices, one clearly not talking to me, the other trying to be loud enough for me to hear, but unfortunately loud enough that I had to move the phone away from my ear.

“MIKEY FORGOT WHICH BUTTON HE NEEDS TO PRESS CAN YOU BUZZ US IN,” I could hear Mitsuya shouting over Mikey and Draken arguing in the background.

I hung up and pressed the button next to the porta phone, waiting for them to make their way to my door. They were still arguing over who knew which button to press when they walked in and I took the pizza boxes from Mitsuya’s hands.

“Yeah well, it’s Baji’s fault for not having us over anymore.”

“It’s not like we ever needed an invitation?”

“Yeah well, Mr.Big Shot over here is too busy for his best friends because he’s going to be a very important vet someday.”

“I live here, too! You can come and visit me!” Chifuyu shouted at them from the couch where he was keeping Yuna company.

Mikey’s gaze stopped on Yuna’s face as she shyly waved and smiled at them.

“Oh hey, new best friend. I’m Mikey, you’re Yuna, right?” He flashed her an angelic smile, earning a smack to the back of his head from Draken.

“Behave, Mikey.” Draken shook his head, reaching to shake Yuna’s hand, and walking back to the kitchen with me, handing me the watermelon he brought with him.

We cut it together and moved the pizzas to the coffee table while Mikey and Mitsuya were trying to be normal around Yuna. Chifuyu seemed to be fending off Mikey’s overbearing closeness pretty well so Draken and I could bring all the drinks and cups to the gathering spot.

I sat next to Yuna, sharing the couch with Chifuyu, while Draken was spread out on the other one, Mikey sitting on the floor with Mitsuya. I had plugged my phone into the big speaker under the TV and played some music as background noise to our conversations.

Yuna seemed to be enjoying the company, often being asked about her studies and hobbies. When she wasn’t talking I could hear her humming along to the music and tapping her fingers on my leg in the rhythm of whatever was on. I passed her some pizza and fruit to eat, which she accepted with a massive smile on her face.

Mikey ended up falling asleep curled up on the floor while Chifuyu was arguing with Draken about who bought pizza the last time we had a gathering like this one.

“DID YOU JUST BLUE SHELL ME YUNA I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING HOLY-” Chifuyu was getting frustrated at nearly winning at Mario Kart - again.

Yuna just playfully chuckled and continued playing, Draken taking the opportunity to speed past him and win the race, sharing a conspiratorial smirk with Yuna.

“That’ll teach you not to knock me into the mud next time.” She replied, smacking him on the arm.

I took the controller from his hands and started a new race, ready to obliterate everyone involved.

It was late by the time the guys left, but I wasn’t tired in the slightest. Yuna’s face was blushed from everyone complimenting her and being really nice and genuine with her, as they should’ve been. She helped Chifuyu clean up the plates and glasses and I accompanied her to the bathroom to brush our teeth and for her to remove her makeup.

“I’ve been thinking…” She started.

“Oh no, what about?”

“Kei I’m serious. I’ve had a really good time tonight. Everyone seemed so genuine and friendly.”

“They can be, yeah. That’s why I’ve been friends with them for the past, uhhh, I want to say around ten years, give or take.”

“I want to be your girlfriend, Kei.”

I stood there, completely shocked, with the toothbrush forgotten in my mouth, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were stretched into a smile, toothbrush still in her mouth, and all I could think about was how I wanted this moment to last forever in its glorious bliss. I quickly spat the toothpaste out and rinsed my mouth, grabbed her hips and spun her around to face me

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to rush your decision just for my sake.”

“I wasn’t planning on rushing it, dumbass, it just feels right.”

I let my hands roam up and down her hips while she finished brushing her teeth and immediately pulled her in for a deep kiss. For the first time as a couple. I picked her up, causing her to break out into a fit of giggles and wrap her legs around my waist, and carried her into my bedroom, walking past Chifuyu, who was still sitting on the couch scrolling on his phone.

“Hey Yuna, maybe we-”

I cut him off before he could stop us, “Not now, pal, my girlfriend and I are a bit busy at the moment.”

“Girlfriend?! Congrats bro!” He returned to his phone, grinning, no doubt alerting the group chat.

As soon as I shut the bedroom door and dropped her on my bed I began undressing, Yuna giggled trying to take her t-shirt off,

“‘My girlfriend and I are a bit busy’ I love the sound of that, mister boyfriend Baji Keisuke.”

I put my hair up into a ponytail and hungrily began kissing up her legs to where her panties started.

“Shhh I’m busy kissing my girlfriend,” I murmured between the kisses, “my beautiful girlfriend,” I nipped at her panties and rolled them down to her ankles, “my gorgeous girlfriend that I’ve somehow managed to pull,” with one hand I held her hips down while the other went to her clit to softly rub it, “my perfect girlfriend who’s going to be so good for me right now and tell me how she wants to cum, hm?”

I looked up at her and, holy shit, her face was already scrunched up in pleasure, her mouth slightly open, her breaths coming out in sharp puffs. One of my fingers was sucked into her needy hole, curling upwards to press on her sensitive spot. She whined at the sensation, squirming under my hand.

“I asked you something, Yuna. How do you want to cum?”

She half-opened her eyes and with a strained voice slurred, “On your fingers, please, Kei.”

How could I not oblige when she asked so nicely?

I inserted another finger into her, attaching my lips to her clit and slowly swirling my tongue around it, drawing sinful moans out of her mouth. She grabbed my hair to bring me even closer to her and I could feel her soft walls tightening around my fingers.

Yuna let out a cry and her juices coated my fingers, I just couldn’t help but lick them clean, before squeezing her thighs and pressing kisses along them, biting to leave marks behind. Making my way up to her, she ran her hands all over my body, admiring me with glassy eyes and hair all over my pillow and her face.

I hoped she wouldn’t mind a little bit of roughness, seeing her spayed out on the bed like that, with her eyes closed, hair sticking to her forehead, made me feel like a wild animal. Like I could bite her flesh forever, leave little reminders of myself on her thighs and hips, which is exactly what I did. She mewled in pleasure whenever I started biting a new bruise into her soft skin.

“Kei it’s s’good,” she was already slurring.

I pulled away and pressed her legs together in the air in front of me, placing my painfully hard erection between her thighs.

“Hope you don’t mind waiting a little more before I fuck you.”

She whined in response as I started pumping my cock through her thighs. Her soft, plush skin felt heavenly on my wanting erection, it grazed her pussy with each thrust, and soon enough I was keeping a steady pace. Her face was flush in frustration, her hips lifting to get more friction on her puffy clit, little whines falling from her lips as she couldn’t get what she was after.

When I was close to finishing I dropped her legs, knees falling towards her chest, and leaned down to grip her lips into a deep kiss. She smelled like freshly squeezed oranges, refreshing my mind as I breathed in her scent. Yuna’s hands roamed across my back and settled in my hair, scratching my scalp, in turn making me shiver with the sensation.

I aligned my cock with her dripping core and dragged it along her soft, puffy folds to make her sigh in frustration one more time before I sunk into her warm, spongy walls.

The noise that came out when I fully sheathed my length into her was something I would be chasing for the rest of my life. A long, sinful moan of anticipated reward that was finally here after all the teasing.

“She’s sucking me in so well, so obsessed with me,” I couldn’t help but tease as her pussy clenched around my dick with every thrust.

Yuna looked up at me, glaring, and managed to bite out,

“Maybe she was feeling ignored while you were playing with my thighs instead!”

So cute while she was angry.

“Don’t be a hater, Yuna, or next time I’ll only fuck your thighs and make you beg for attention to your cunt.”

That shut her up and made her roll her eyes, her attitude was immediately cut short when I slammed my hips into hers and made her gasp louder than before. I chuckled and pressed a kiss onto her lips, licking her bottom lip, before pushing myself up and pressing her legs as far to her chest as she could handle, getting a better angle to thrust into her deeper than before.

She cried out in pleasure when I picked up the pace, my mouth couldn’t contain grunts as her warm walls drew me in and clenched around me - with my name on her lips she came and a ring of white formed around my base. Her orgasm only made me more feral, slamming into her drenched pussy with a ferocity I hadn’t used before, as her moans turned more and more desperate, borderline pornographic.

“Kei please slow-fuck-down ‘s ah too much!” She was half-slurring her words, eyes shut, mouth open in ecstasy. I slowed down for a few thrusts to oblige.

“Overwhelmed?” I asked her, to which she only nodded lightly.

With a grin I slammed into her harder, still not speeding up, but she didn’t say anything about roughness. I grabbed her legs and hugged them tightly, resting her calves on my shoulders. I lazily dragged my cock in and out of her, barely putting in any effort, waiting for her to beg me to speed up again.

I didn’t have to wait long, but this pace made me feel so needy, I wanted to pound into her like it was my last night on earth, I wanted to make her scream my name so loudly that there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind about who was making her see stars.

When she finally spoke again my cock twitched inside of her with excitement.

“Kei baby faster please,” She whined and I had half a mind to jump on the request, but the other part of me wanted to make her beg.

“You sure you can take it, sweetheart?”

“I want it, please.”

“How much?”

“Mmm-what?”

“How much do you want it?” I wanted to watch her squirm with want.

“I need it. I need you, Keisuke. I need your cock deep and fast,” her eyes were glistening, “please.”

With that I doubled my thrusts, her moans immediately rising in pitch. Her fucked-out face scrunching up while her mouth hung open, lewd moans slipping past her soft lips. I wanted to kiss them, but this position was just too good to stop. I grunted with my quick movements while her toes curled on each side of my neck. The next best thing to do was to kiss her ankles, making her chuckle mid-moan.

“Kei ‘m sooooo close don’t-fuck-don’t stop!” Yuna was gasping for air at this point and I was almost at my tipping point, desperate to spill inside of her.

I reached down to smack her ass and draw out another whine from her mouth, she was trying to say my name again, but all that came out was a long moan as her walls contracted around my dick once more, releasing another orgasm and making her spasm in front of me.

That was enough to milk my cock of everything I had in me, long ropes of cum spurted on her walls and I slowed down to ride it out with her. I slowly pulled out, some of our cum very lazily leaking out of her abused hole. With a kiss to her swollen clit, I gently pushed her up to the pillows and went to the bathroom to get her a warm towel while trying to ignore Chifuyu’s protesting about my walking out of my bedroom naked.

After cleaning her up (gently, trying to shush her overstimulated whines), I lay in bed next to her and drew her closer into my chest. She released a happy humming sound and almost immediately started snoring. I could definitely get used to this, I whispered into the back of her head,

“You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart, I feel like I’m falling in love.”

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dragynkeep · 1 year ago

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It’s so shocking to me how people still don’t think RWBY is “that racist” (it’s more than that)” when they straight up tried the “ohhh there’s a REASON why the oppressors are oppressing the minorities LOL” schtick. Unironically. There’s no deeper meaning behind racism, if I said that right, because racism is racism. No reasoning behind it. No excuses to back it. And yet this show is one among many who stick their asses out to try and find one.

“Uhh, the minorities were protesting with VIOLENCE cuz their people were being treated like dogs…. Not good🤓” okay and? And??? The White Fang was getting shit done. We’re told by BLAKE HERSELF their violent methods were WORKING.

speaking of the Wang, I want to bring up the two characters from it we vaguely know the backstories of: firstly, Ilia. Ilia is heavily coded as indigenous, that’s a no-brainer. Indigenous people to this day (emphasis:to this day) are still unfairly labeled as terrorists for demanding basic living rights. Sound familiar?

And Ilia’s backstory. Unprivileged girl gets into a school among humans who don’t like her kind. She must hide her identity as a Faunus in order to fit in among these humans. Slap on the fact she’s native-coded and you’ve got yourself a real uncomfortable parallel I might be tripping with seeing, but. No matter what I do see it and I wish I didn’t.

But she’s in the wrong for wanting Justice for her parents death, wanting Justice at ALL for her people. She was just being stupid. LOLZ

And then there’s Adam. Yes, we don’t know much about his backstory exactly, but what we do know for sure is:

�� He was literally branded

• He was literally enslaved

• He was literally enslaved, and very likely held in slavery while he was a minor

hi ermmmmmmm my little diary: What The Fuck why is this the backstory of who is meant to be the most evil cruel fucked up twisted scary guy in your show CRWBY? Why is this kind of backstory, this kind of issue, not treated at all with even a shred of sympathy?

“Oh, but Nevermore has that line abo—“ You mean the song that also had a line mentioning how the former slave hid his branded eyes in an accusatory way? Sure I’ll peep that one up. /j

and yes, Adam was an abuser. Yes, he was a cringe little whiny loser. Yes, he has a weird mouth. Yes, he did deserve to die in that moment. BUT THE FACT THE SHOW RUNNERS DECIDED TO FRAME HIM EXPOSING THE FUCKING HATE CRIME HUMANS DELT HIM AS. HIS WORST MOMENT. DUN DUN DUN. IS FUCKING GROSS

Especially with how many shots just linger on the brand??? And how excessively detailed it is on the model????? Thumbs down. Tomato!

But oh, this guy was fighting against the oppressors because he wanted his people to TAKE OVER THEM! Just like what the news told me… oh Nvm HE JUST WANTED POWER! He never cared about his people at all, those white people Ahem CHOKE humans were only scared of him and those like him and that’s why they’re racist!

Reframe that statement as:

But oh, this former slave was fighting against the oppressors because he wanted his people to TAKE OVER THEM! Just like what the news told me… oh Nvm THE FORMER SLAVE JUST WANTED POWER! The former slave never cared about his people at all, those white people Ahem CHOKE humans were only scared of the former slave and those minorities like him and that’s why they’re racist!

This show has infamous white comfort but it’s this that irks me the most. I’ll say it again, there’s nothing behind why someone is racist. They just are, and it cannot be reasoned or excused. There is no meaningful explanation behind one’s bigotry, at its core, and it’s painfully obvious that the white ass writers writing this show couldn’t get that through their skulls either.

Then again, RWBY never had a good allegory to begin with. It just kept getting worse.

(sorry for the long ask)

yeah there's not much more i can say than what's been pointed out in the ask but it definitely shows that the mostly white, american fanbase of the show will defend the writers because acknowledging these aspects of the show & how the white writers fucked it up despite no one asking them to make a racism storyline makes them uncomfortable.

adam has to be only an abuser because him being a former slave / victim of racism makes them uncomfortable.

blake has to be yang's girlfriend & go to parties instead of activist rallies because her being a victim of racism makes them uncomfortable.

ilia has to be defined by loving blake & being a "dumb lesbian" because her being a victim of racism, especially with the native allegory of boarding schools, makes them uncomfortable.

#rwby #rwde #ilia amitola #adam taurus #blake belladonna #ais.txt #answered #q

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paganminiskirt · 2 years ago

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“Wouldn't believe me. Knew from birth I was marked to die by lightning. Momma forced me into the bath, twisted my vittles and shoved me in the water even though she knew the electricity could sneak up them pipes and cook me like a suckling pig. Bitch never was right in the head.”

It’s interesting how, between Coyle and Gooseberry, he seems to be classified as more of a natural born evil (like Traeger/Blair/Knoth) while the horror that she embodies is consistently characterized as the byproduct of sustained abuse, or rather of a bunch of horrifying overblown coping mechanisms for it (like Gluskin/Walker/Marta.) Phyllis presents as someone who was socialized with such atrocious, systemized cruelty that she's unable to live outside of that paradigm of parental domination, clinging to this understanding of childhood thats conventions - safety, obedience, innocence, even performance - are defined exclusively by violence.

Now Coyle is as much a product of his environment as she is, but not in the sense that the narrative is constantly reasserting the trauma that warped him along the way. He presents as a particularly sadistic cog in a pre-existing machine of brutality, one that rewarded him from start to finish as he stretched the limits of what he could get away with before getting scouted by a power structure that enabled his cruelty to an even more depraved extreme.

He fits his setting quite well, since the 1950s are recognized as a time of infamous institutionalized injustice. Another widespread aspect of 50s America was cultural and social repression, and that’s where you find the root of what makes Coyle the way he is. This is a man with a hideously destructive fixation on guilt and shame - specifically of the kind that can't be overcome or redeemed, only denied. ("The trick to an effective lie is standing your ground. Never give a fucking inch.") He might bloviate about how it's other people that are Wrong & Dirty & Bad, of course, how he's got nothing to be ashamed of, but there are moments when it's made particularly obvious that this is a cover up for some part of his own identity that he finds irreconcilably repulsive.

There's the aforementioned fact that he’s 100% convinced that if you just lie really really hard, you can bully the truth out of existence. There's that line about how he believes in “educational shame,” “spitting in the eyes of the blind,” i.e. using degradation to uphold a kind of farcical social purity even if you know you’re just maintaining a front. There’s the part where he bemoans that there isn’t a jail anywhere that he himself could be put in, “someplace peaceful and close, someplace warm I could not escape,” like his version of heaven is just to be a dog in a cage, helpless and weak but contained. There's the part where he goes off about how the “undesirables” will inevitably overwhelm him one day, all while using the whole scenario as an excuse to fantasize about being broken and degraded in front of a crowd jesus christ leland go to therapy. There’s also the quote that I put at the top. Which is vague (and sourced from the unreliable narrator to end all unreliable narrators) but also relevant to the discussion of his personal hangups.

Coyle might have had something done to him as a very young child, correct? It’s nowhere near as integral to his characterization as Gooseberry’s trauma is, nor is it laid out as clearly; and yet, the tenor of that story is certainly unpleasant, and it only gets worse when you try to parse out what exactly he’s describing. “Vittles” is just redneck for “food,” but when utilized to describe the actions of someone wrangling a naked child it takes on a much uglier connotation - especially when paired up with a verb like “twist.” The line about how his mother wasn’t “right in the head” is definitely another projection, at least partially, but much of the rest of the quote points to what happened being significant to his obsessions as an adult.

It would certainly explain all those times where he tries to convince the player to see themselves as helpless, pathetic, “born guilty.” Looking at him through the framework of secretly being everything he accuses others of being, what else could’ve made him feel like that? A “half-formed monstrosity with it’s heart on the outside,” damned from birth?

#leland coyle #mother gooseberry #officer coyle #outlast trials #csa tw #abuse tw

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doux-amer · 2 years ago

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So much of what Arian said about those Stewy lines that got cut from “Honeymoon States” is melting my brain, but the things I can’t help but fixate on are the vagueness of Kendall’s childhood abuse and Stewy’s position as an objective third-party witness.

We don’t know how Logan abused Kendall as a kid beyond verbal abuse. Logan has laid into him before and it’s obvious that that goes back to Kendall’s childhood, but that’s not anything out of the ordinary. Kendall is not the only one Logan castigated or belittled, and Logan hurling verbal abuse at and publicly humiliating others happened often enough that people ultimately shrugged it off as Logan being Logan. It’s not something that anyone dwells on or has trouble talking about.

Actually, no one has a problem talking about Logan's behavior, or more specific to this discussion, the way he treated his kids, in general! Everyone from the kids to Hugo of all people talk about it, so it strikes me as odd that no one ever mentions what happened to Kendall even offhandedly, other than Connor and Roman about the dog pound. Usually there are clues to deduce what occurred or at least narrow down possibilities, but it’s not neglect, which is what Connor endured, because Kendall was Logan’s number one boy. Waystar’s little prince. The heir apparent. It’s not misogyny, which is what Shiv had to battle once things soured (though Logan’s sexism has been present since the beginning; it just took a different form when Shiv was younger. She was his little princess), because he’s a man. It’s not physical abuse because they mention all the different times Logan hit Roman so it’s not like if Logan hit Kendall, people would think it was different and an issue to skirt around. It’s not likely to be sexual abuse, direct or otherwise, because there isn’t really anything in the text to suggest that in relation to Kendall. All we have is verbal abuse, but I don’t think that Logan dressing down Kendall would register to others as abuse because of what I said above.

My guess is that no one talks about what happened because they believe Kendall escaped adolescence unscathed—Logan berating him for being a sensitive weakling and his addiction aside—because they saw his abuse as unremarkable. Either it happened privately or they saw the abuse but not the extent because the rest happened behind closed doors. Considering that no one knows why or how Kendall was suffering in S2 and S3 to this day other than Marcia and Colin—and all they know about is the cover-up, not Logan and Kendall’s private conversations and interactions afterwards—and Kendall’s own denial of his abuse, it isn’t much of a stretch to imagine Kendall keeping his mouth shut and/or forcing himself to forget/remember things differently. (Stewy asks Kendall if he remembers what Logan did to him as a kid. Kendall doesn’t remember details about the dog pound. He’s taken aback when Roman insists it traumatized him because he remembers it as a game they enjoyed, and Connor has to remind him that it was Logan’s idea in the first place so he could pit Roman and him against each other.)

Everyone is notably silent about the abuse even Kendall himself. He conspicuously leaves himself out when he’s rattling off how Logan hurt Connor and Roman in the karaoke room. (Admittedly, part of the reason is this, but I don’t think it’s just that anymore.) The only person to address Kendall’s childhood abuse, if I’m remembering correctly, is Stewy. Up until now it was intimated that he hates Logan because he and Kendall go way back, but it’s no longer subtext. He remembers. He never forgot. He doesn’t dismiss or deny what happened. He’s seen the way Logan has behaved and treated his kids, but he thought what happened to Kendall is horrific and still does.

I may be reaching too much here, but again, there’s something off, something that isn’t an elephant in the room but rather a buried secret, because Stewy could have said that Logan’s been treating Ken like dirt over the past few years or his whole life, but he didn’t. He specifically mentions what happened to Ken as a kid. “I was there.” The whole line is stranger if Arian didn’t misspeak or misremember. “I was there when he saw that.” (Saw what?)

Speaking of strange, this makes Stewy’s relationship to Logan even more peculiar. Logan constantly acted like Stewy was a stranger to the point that Kendall had to remind Logan that Stewy is one of his oldest friends. Logan refused to remember who Stewy was outside of business and had to have put in effort to do so because it shouldn’t be hard to remember Stewy. Stewy’s the only friend that any of his kids seem to have, and Stewy has clearly been part of Ken’s life growing up since they were very young. Ken is his oldest friend. He was invited to the Roys’ home and into their lives. He was there when Logan abused Kendall in front of him, not caring who saw.

Maybe that’s because he was a non-entity to Logan, probably partially due to racism (who cares if Stewy sees because he’s nothing), but also because Logan deliberately tried to diminish Stewy’s presence in Kendall’s life for some reason. Who knows. Maybe he thought friendship was pathetic. Maybe he thought it made Ken weak and it compromised him. Maybe he thought that Stewy was pulling Ken away from him and he couldn’t have that. Maybe he thought doing whatever he did in front of Stewy would drive him away from Kendall. But this is all conjecture. What isn’t is that it did the opposite, whatever Logan’s reasons were. Stewy stayed and never let go. He walks away if he’s burned enough—by Kendall, not anyone else—but he’ll come right back if Ken needs him.

#stewy hosseini #kendall roy #succession #succession spoilers #we joke around about Kendall having ambiguous disorder but I think you can argue that he has ambiguous abuse too #JESSE I'M IN YOUR WALLS #I AM IN AGONY OVER YOUR DECISION TO CUT THESE LINES #I NEED YOU TO RELEASE THE DIRECTOR'S CUT. JESSE. JESSE!!!!!!!!!

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abbystanaccount · 2 years ago

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Hi Katarina, I read a previous ask you received about Abby's age and wanted to run something by you. On the timeline page on the TLOU wiki one of the references says "Abby is 20 at the time she kills Joel, as confirmed both in Gamecast Ep. 26 and Spoilercast with Neil Druckmann" - weirdly both links actually go to the same video, but either way it's Neil saying that Joel isn't as wary of Abby when he first meets her because Abby's 'the same age as Ellie', which if taken completely literally would make her...19, right? 'Cause Ellie's still 19 at the very start?

So maybe he just meant she's *roughly* the same age, like in the same age bracket, especially if the art book specifies early 20s...in which case she's anything from 20 to 23 going on 24 at the very oldest. But either way I can't for the life of me work out where they got the specific age of 20 from that comment? Like am I missing something really obvious that makes Ellie and therefore Abby canonically 20 at that moment??

Ik it's such an unimportant detail lmao but the moment I read that I was like "...nah I gotta page the resident Abby Expert" lmao

haha yes that's me and I have thoughts on this

Yes the wiki just says 20 and I've also clicked that link to that podcast where Neil vaguely says Joel trusts Abby because Abby's the same age as Ellie. But like going off that context, that doesn't necessarily mean they're the exact same age, it just means they're both young women.

Really all we have in the game of Abby's age is her looks and from the devs the vague "around the same age" and that she's a little older than Ellie. Then we have the art book book that says "early 20's" which is a little more specific and what I go off of.

20 is really what I think the youngest possible age for Abby is, because you compare 14, nearly 15 year old Ellie and flashback Abby, Abby seems older. Then in TLOU 2, Ellie is 19 in March/April, and going to be 20 in the summer. So Abby must be older than that.

I've heard some people quote Jocelyn, where when asked that question she says Abby's 15 in the hospital flashback. But I've seen enough of her streams to know she doesn't know that for sure where she was explicitly told that by Naughty Dog, at the beginning of her streaming when people would ask that she just said she doesn't know, but then eventually picked that age based off the "around the same age" comment and what others said, and the fact they used reference pics of her at 15 and 17 for young Abby. (Btw hospital Abby and flashback aquarium Abby are the same model, just different shirt).

So reallyyyyyy... I think there is a couple year range she could be, of like 20-22. I highly doubt she's 19 in Seattle and I doubt the hospital Abby is intended to be much older than 18. And all her friends in the Salt Lake crew are supposed to be around her age range too, like for example they weren't full soldiers on the Firefly front lines against Joel and they weren't full nurses, just students. So I really don't think any of them are much older than Abby by much as well.

#asks #abby #abby anderson

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krypticcafe · 1 year ago

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what’s the königxreader fic you talking about where reader kidnaps him?

Context, anon is referencing this mini ramble I had (and have apparently deleted w/o remembering??) about how I enjoy dark fiction from a purely psychological and analytical level rather than romanticism.

I mentioned reading a könig/reader fic where m!reader kidnaps könig, it read like a short psychological thriller movie for a bit. Kinda reminded me of the icks I got from moments in Saltburn (which was a pretty good movie).

The last chapter I ever read from it was smut and I don't exactly know if I should be spreading content I don't fully endorse so I'll only drop the title under all the discussion I have on it below since I think it's important to keep what I'm saying in mind.

It's a fic that mildly glorifies its themes, and I have since dropped it in all honesty. It's like when you consume the fictional depiction of something bad for entertainment but there comes a point where you're like "Okay how much can I emotionally/mentally profit from this without supporting what it actually stands for". Because I mean like, I write about military people and fictional killers but I don't actually like the military, and real-life killers are fucking disgusting, like that stuff is really obvious. But this fic kinda blurs the lines, you know what I mean?? So yeah I just kinda stopped.

Slight TW for mentions of abuse, obsession, and I will be discussing one of the overarching themes of the fic vaguely.

Frankly, the only reason I read it in the first place was because of how I was fascinated at how fucked up of a character the reader was, reading off more like a psychological thriller antagonist working off of his delusions. I loved the metaphors of the relationship dynamic being that of a dog and its owner, how deeply disturbing it was to see the reader using this to justify his every action. It reminded me of Makima, from Chainsaw Man and Oliver from Saltburn because (SPOILERS - skip the next paragraph to avoid)

—Makima groomed Denji, she is the control devil, and her relationship with Denji is that of a dog and its owner as well. Yet what makes her different is that she is an obvious villain in the end, it's the whole point of the end of the first part. Same can be said with Oliver, he's not a good person either and Saltburn emphasizes the theme is how romantic obsession can consume a person. Manipulation and twisted power dynamics are what they share with the story.

I mean the fic itself was like a car crash you can't help but to look at. The mental deterioration of both characters was well written, except,

well I mean I can't forget that this is a fic romanticizing abuse and not a fictional case study exploring the horrors of romantic obsession and the human mind, that it's a twisted romance and not a twisted thriller. And especially after the smut chapter, yeah no I'm good from there.

If you stumble across the fic Puppy for Adoption, I guess read it with caution? I have to give props to the quality of the writing, moments had me turning my nose yet wondering what was in store for these characters. But I can't quite recommend supporting it with how its writing intentions are kinda morally blurred.

#coffee with kryptid #spilt beans

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kdrama-movies-more · 1 year ago

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I watched it too long ago and am not sure of what I think the plot was but I remember the vibes...and they mostly fit. Like, they are too many coincidences in the plot down to the layout of the village, the house ransack with and without a warrant and the shop with a in front, the pickle courtyard and much of the developments.

If the writer is going for subversion to create a Noir-specific-doomed-to-fail-to-atone with Moon's fatal flaw taken 100% from Beyond Evil's kid detective's thing...only the timing is too close to the end to do it... Plus he's not a young rookie..sigh... I expected them two to have a falling out over his accusing Seon-woo or manhandling him or not believing her and was more surprised it never came around with those. They'd grown somewhat off and distant since ep9 around yet they're as thick as Ok-hui and Bong in so short a time?

The murderers based on this are(and might all be red herrings like with Gwang-sik and prev):-

Shaman Park the eccentric "dad" whom Moon won't suspect; reason could very well be same as BE or similar

Bae Deok-hee or Ok-hui the best friend whose mom is the church deacon nd possible mastermind OR Cha Ju-man's legitimate(according to his file he has one, age unknown) son being someone specific and close to the mains or the aide as a substitute since he is known

Moon's father(?) No? The person who fits that shoe would be Cha Ju-man who rose and fell although dead and Seon-woo in the place of the vengeful son even though he is poor ol' innocent Dong-sik and Moon is the obsessed kid detective from Seoul(?) since the parallels aren't all exact; its implied Yoon is dead the way he is spoken of in the past tense

Cha Ju-man's real right-hand man of all dark jobs not being Kang but the alcoholic ex-husband Gyeong-taek who ought to be owning a construction company...

Vaguely I also recall that the niece with fancy nails was handcuffed in the police station by Dong-shik and told off about her carelessness her own good but she sneaked off and she got killed that night... the lame pickup line tho reminds me of a JMovie in which also the girl gets killed soon after ignoring a warning and sneaking off to meet the suspect

Seon-woo then like Dong-sik might have known since long who the killer was but also there being a lack of conclusive evidence to tie it up so to do something self-implicating?

So were Seung-gil or more likely Lee Ji-suk Moon's informant whom he used and accidentally got killed? Unless that random coincidence is with Ali whom he did more or less deport...?? How are Ae-ran and Seon-woo not friends with their similar backstory as with Dae-sik and Jae-yi. Don't make Ae-ran go for Mon tho if she is Jaw-yi...nor make the Moon and Seon-woo suddenly team up(?)

Next up - the Chief dies? No, I suspect he is hand in glove with the crime scene in Mujin. The grandpa being the Chief type might mean he was on Seon-woo's corner? Or will Moon will bear the cross the chief bore for the investigation and false accusation?

Hopefully theres no more but either next to die the most obvious suspect Won Jong-muk to further noir guilt...Moon(?) the mad dog with an incomplete/confusing RIU/Major Crimes(?) demotion backstory- as of now it actually stands its his fault alone coz hes an impatient nutjob who behaves like a rookie yet And then there is Detective Na who could be bumped off too and then Ok-hui's dad...(unless they fall under 2 or 4; Na's husband's job and connect to Cha?). But I certainly don't want their disastrous team to fall apart with death...if there is.

And, Ye Bun will throw fur/dander at Moon for crucifying an innocent man as she vehemently lectured against about Park in this case someone who most likely figured out culprit tho who then would have been a liability anyway or she'll put dander in his car like the thrown eggs Mysophobia = pet allergy

Kidding, kidding...

Fricking hell I thought I was seeing parallels with no basis as usual

but BYT literally went full Beyond Evil this episode

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seraphdreams · 3 years ago

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𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧.

pairings - eren jaeger & jean kirstein x fem!reader.

contains - breeding, praise, degradation, threesome, anal, leashes and collars, daddy kink, bisexual eren and jean, lingerie, overstimulation, dumbification, double penetration, slight petplay “puppy”, manhandling, slight slapping, slight choking, 18+ mdni.

synopsis - eren and jean give you anything you want, even things you don’t ask for. eren thinks it’s too much but jean thinks it’s perfect; it’s not your fault you look so pretty in your new gift, just as they had planned.

word count - 3.5K

the comforting breeze of air-conditioning and the lingering vanilla scent of the candle you previously had burning, encapsulates your senses as you step back into your shared apartment with eren and jean. the three of you had just come back from a shopping spree, of which they paid for, as you happily dragged them along to each store that caught your eye.

“do you really need all this stuff?” eren complains as he steps foot into the living room. multiple heavy shopping bags hang from his arms, indenting the flesh and casting a red mark over the skin. “she deserves it.” jean chimes in, setting his keys on the counter and making his way to the kitchen. you turn to eren with a sour pout. he sits on the couch, his legs spread and head thrown back; an obvious sign of fatigue.

“well, jean said to get anything i want, so i did.” you respond in a cheeky and matter-of-factly manner, eyeing the man up and down as you collect your bags from him and set them aside. “yeah, on my card.” eren tuts under his breath, an exasperated groan following after. “jean, i bet you didn’t spend a dime.”

jean looks up from the dainty box he’s holding in his hands. “i’m not going to argue with you right now, and besides, i already spent a hefty amount on something special for our little puppy.” his words cause your heart to race; the same warm feeling you get each time jean spoils you, flooding your body. “what is it? what’d you get me?” anyone with a pair of eyes could see the excitement that washed over your features; like a dog waiting for a treat, already way too eager to see what’s in the box that jean travels to the living room with.

he removes the top and holds it to your line of sight. the moonlight radiating from the balcony to the window luminates over the garment in front of you; a strappy pink lace lingerie set, adorned with a collar with the words ‘pretty puppy’ engraved on the plate. eren comes up from behind you, looking over your shoulder at the set. “that’s what you got her? i’m not mad..” he says, beginning to run his hands down your waist. “i’m not mad at all.”

you can’t help but be enamored at the sight in front of you, your eyes glossed with adoration as you look up at jean, a soft smile dusted over his features. “do you like it? you wanna put it on?”

it would be rude to turn down his offer, especially when he’s done so much for you, like saving you from eren’s never-ending bitching, which is more or less his cover up for being envious of the way jean indulges in you. in any case, you take the package with a nod and a faint ‘thank you’ while giddily treading to the bedroom, already more than thrilled to show your boyfriends how stunning you’d look in the new set.

about three minutes pass and you’re already dressed up in the elegant set, standing just outside the door waiting to grab their attention. “jean! eren! ‘m done!” you call out, your hands perched on the frame of the door as you peek through the crack, acting as some sort of cover up for your sugar coated surprise.

you hear heavy footsteps begin to approach you, the pattering in your heart gaining momentum. the vague sound of metal jingling also play in your ears as both men begin to come into view.

“let’s see you, darling.” jean coos, his eyes fixed on your bare legs as you set about, making your way in front of them.

you twirl around, showing off the thin lace of the bralette that can barely conceal your perked nipples and the matching lace thong that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. you await their praise and they’re more silent than you’d hope which causes your lips to jut into a sultry pout.

they shoot each other a quick and sly glance before eren pulls a leash from his pocket, the leather and metal making the exact sound you had heard before. “i thought doggies were supposed to be on all fours?” eren mocks, trudging closer to you. you may be naive but you weren’t naive enough to not see where this was going.

the carpet is soft against your knees and palms as you slowly lower yourself to the floor. eren kneels in front of you, tilting his head. his jaded orbs entranced on your neck as he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth and hooks the leash onto your collar. in your eyes, he was no more than sin—too dangerously attractive for his own good.

the sounds of jean’s footfall sneak past you while eren rises, tugging on the leash and following behind the tall man in front of him, cascading into the bedroom. on your hands and knees, you have no other option than to tread on the heels of the man who has you connected by his hand and your neck.

once you’re back into the dark, twilight bedroom, eren and jean seat themselves on the edge of the bed while you sit on your knees under them, still on the floor. eren wraps the leash around his palm tighter to keep you secure in your spot. jean brings your head up by your chin until your eyes meet, his index and thumb fingers warm to the touch. “so what do you want from us, little puppy?” he questions, taking in the raw beauty of your features, the way your eyes are wide with innocence and curiosity.

you think for a moment. what could you possibly want from the men who spoil you rotten, the men who put your needs before their own? is there something that you don’t own? something they haven’t given you yet? it pops into your head like an idea and a lightbulb.

“babies. daddy, i want babies.”

you must’ve said the right thing with the way a smirk tugs on the corner of jean’s lips. if his precious girl wants babies, who is he to ignore her? “babies, huh? don’t worry that pretty little head. we’ll fill you up with our babies as many times as you want.”

with that, eren’s unhooking your leash and discarding it elsewhere. jean sits further on the bed, taking you in his arms as he does so, then turning you around so your back is against his chest and your face is met with eren, who’s laying flat on his stomach as he pries your legs apart.

those same warm fingers from before slide under the cup of your bra until they’re kneading your breasts. your body results to squirming at the friction igniting in your core. “stay still, puppy.” you could feel the rumbling deep in jean’s chest as he gravels out the words. eren licks his lips as he pushes your panties to the side, giving him full view of your sopping wet cunt. hot pressure is felt on your clit when eren gives no warning and begins to lap your folds with his tongue.

you throw your head back against jean’s shoulder, feeling added stimulation when he begins to pinch and pull at your nipples. “fuck, ‘ren.” you mewl out, looking at him through half lidded eyes as his own remain minaciously locked onto yours, watching each and every little reaction from you like a predator and its prey.

he can’t help but elicit a broken grunt that vibrates against your core when you begin to grind down over the heated muscle of his tongue. whimpers and whines string from your decorated throat when he adds two fingers, slowly working them in tandem with the tip of his tongue flicking your sensitive clit. pleasure reconciles in the pits of your stomach when eren increases his actions. your body begins to heat up as beads of sweat quite literally form at your hairline.

“o-oh, eren, right there. ‘m close” you groan as your body grows languid in jean’s arms. his lips take purchase on your neck, placing soothing kisses down in a effort to ease you from your impending high. it works but in the slightest because you can’t help when your jaw goes slack at eren’s ruthless finger fucking which causes your back to arch obscurely as your cunt convulses over both his tongue and his fingers.

he pulls his mouth away, sitting upright as he uses one hand to assist you with riding out your orgasm and the other to unbuckle his belt, pulling down his briefs and pants once he’s done fumbling. jean inches back until his spine is met with the headboard before freeing his cock from their confines as well. before you could even process it, eren’s large palms grip at your waist, flipping you over momentarily with ease until your ass is up and on display for eren and jean’s sizeable, drooling cock is centimeters from your face.

“fuck” eren groans, slipping into the nectary cavern of your tight cunt. a sharp slap lands on your ass before he spreads the flesh, beginning to rut into your saccharine heat. on the other end, jean is tapping the head of his cock against your lips, marveling at the sight of your pretty face scrunched up in pleasure. “open up, puppy.” he coos, tilting his head and grinning at you charmingly. if eren was going to be your nightmare, it wouldn’t hurt for jean to be your knight in shining armor.

you open your mouth, enveloping jean’s thick length while returning his soft gaze with a vacant one. you slowly try to take in as much of him as you can into your jaws, carefully bobbing your head rhythmically once you got adjusted to his size. “attapup, look at you being so good for me.” he praises, sending chills down your spine and electricity to your cunt, your walls convulsing around eren.

“yeah? you like that little slut?” eren queries from behind, the pace of his thrusts growing forceful and vigorous. he knew what he was doing, hitting that one spot deep within your cunt repeatedly as to drive you crazy from the pleasure. to no one’s surprise, it was working; and a lot more efficiently than you could ever imagine. you muffle out pants and whines against jean’s cock, those very vibrations stirring shock waves of arousal to his cock, added on with the velvety silk of your throat that cause him to emit a deep, guttural groan.

he uses his large hands to pry your mouth from his cock, holding your face and examining every little feature with his narrow, ambered eyes. “you’re so pretty.” he coos, one hand falling from your cheek and the other taking purchase at the tag of your collar, admiring the way it glimmered against your skin. a mix of precum and drool accumulate on your lips while you stare up at the man before you, whose dick is twitching from just how spellbinding you are.

“be a good girl for me and suck just the tip.” jean clamors, his eyes flitting from eren’s expression to yours as you wrap a ginger hand around the base of his cock and wrap your lips over the nearly vermilion head of his length. you tautly suck, then position your opposite hand to fondle with his balls, running light fingers over the dermis.

the tightening in your core grows firmer and firmer as eren continues his brutal pace. he slaps at your ass, watching the flesh ripple as he feels a more threatening sensation in his lower abdomen. “god, you’re gonna make me cum.” he grunts, his pace faltering with each thrust. your eyes screw in pleasure when you feel the torrent of ecstasy trail down to your toes, your most sensitive spot being abused by the wake of a throbbing, girthy cock inside you.

there was no way to signal your orgasm, only moans and soft whimpers barely audible as euphoria crashes over you, sending your body into a twitching frenzy and eren deep in your walls at the hilt, filling your womb with his seed as he shudders, jettisoning his load completely with a few shallow thrusts afterwards.

eren lays his spent body next to you with a gruff sigh. you’re met with jean’s digits again, pulling you off his edged cock as he takes over, situating himself to the edge of the bed, orientating between your legs once he flips you on your back and spreads your legs with one hand. he venerates at the sight of your still fluttering, stuffed cunt.

“‘ren’s filled you up good, huh?”

you mindlessly nod your head before jean grabs at the base of his cock, lowering the head to your entrance and slowly sinking in. his other hand wraps around eren’s length, leisurely stroking him up and down as he shivers from overstimulation.

“g-gah, fuck, it feels so good.” eren stammers out, momentarily turning his head to face you, taking his lips to your own, kissing you sensually as jean sets an agonizing pace at the start.

you grind your hips over in search of creating more friction to which jean inadvertently chuckles at your advances, feeding into the hint that you want it faster. in turn, he picks up the pace of both his thrusts and the jerking of his hand. you whine breathlessly into eren’s mouth as he begins slipping his tongue past, tasting the flavorful concoction of your mouth and the remnants of precum that landed on your tongue from jean.

“you both take daddy so well” jean groans, pistoning his hips against your own in a more hurried manner. your breasts jiggled at each rigid slam, eliciting shrewd laments from deep within your throat at the force. eren begins to buck his hips up in a feeble attempt to increase the friction of jean’s taut hand clad around his cock.

your walls start to clamp down on the thickness of the length continuously nudging against your sweet spot with precision, enough precision to have you stifling back the lusty keen that seems to travel its way to your throat, signaling to both men that you’re close. jean’s awaiting orgasm builds back into his core as his pace falters, the incessant action of his cock getting swallowed in helplessly by your heat causing him to lean down and press gentle kisses to your neck as his deep groans reverberate on the skin. warmth courses through your nerves as you inhale sharply, your quick whine going unnoticed by eren, whose tongue laps around your own in a fervent kiss.

it’s hard to even think faultlessly when another vehement orgasm is lured from your body. it kindles your toes to curl and thighs to tremble all while you break away from eren’s lips, taking notice of his face contorted in pure bliss as the buck of his hips into jean’s hand turns more desperate, perceptible that he’s on the brink of his ecstatic impending high. “fuck! just like that. don’t stop, daddy!” eren mewls out, the increasing flick of jean’s wrist only edging him closer. it was then, with just a few more frenzied thrusts, eren releases thick, hot spurts of cum, the sheer substance coating his cock then slipping down to jean’s fingers as he unwraps his hand and orchestrates his fingers up to his mouth, taking in the bittersweet flavor of eren’s orgasm with a gruff moan while he pulls friction from your raw, overstimulated cunt once, twice, then a third, before overbrimming your walls with the mixture of his and eren’s seed.

he pulls away, looking down upon the two of you with faces flushed and chests heaving like a couple of whores. “be a good puppy and keep it all right here.” jean coos, pressing a firm hand below your abdomen, tutting while observing as his secretions ooze out of your core. “you still want babies, right?” he confirms and you nod your head languidly in approval. the sharp tangs of the remnants of your orgasm briefly surge once again as he pulls out slowly then taps the head of his throbbing and swollen length onto your puffy clit.

eren outstretches his arms as he sits back against the headboard, pulling you into his lap and running his fingers lightly over your embellished neck, the twangs of the metal on your collar jingling with every move you make. once again, his half lidded eyes are fixated on your throat, that same devilish smirk adorning his face. “say, little doggy. have you ever been filled up by two cocks?” he questions, his voice low and raspy as his fingers make their way down to your collarbone.

barely any thoughts coherent enough to answer his question swirl in your brain as you shake your head and place your hands at his chest. “n-no.” you hiccup, anticipating his next move.

“no?”

he restates your answer as if it doesn’t make sense to him, leaning his head back and slowly trailing his eyes up to meet yours. “well then, we’re just gonna have to show ya” he says, looking over your shoulder at jean, who coats his cock in lubricant. you feel the thick head of his cock slide through your folds from behind, collecting your essence before he taps the tip on your ass. “up, up.” eren coos, now holding you by your waist and hoisting you over his cock until he gently pushes you down, groaning at the way you engulf him.

your sensitive walls clamp down on him immediately, causing you to lean forward, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he pulls you in to continue your previous salacious kiss. jean slips his cock into your ass, using the mix of your orgasms as lubrication. his knees bend where eren’s torso is as he uses his hand to support his weight, whereas eren’s knees buckle at jean’s torso. you sit in the middle, stuffed to the brim as you await movement.

it starts with jean beginning his gentle and slow yet hungry pace as eren follows soon after, matching his pace with a more brute one. you break free from eren’s kiss, unable to stop the lewd moans that fall past your lips as you whine into the crook of eren’s neck, tears prickling in your eyes as they both thrust up into you. “you’re such a nasty little—ah, puppyslut, aren’t you?” eren teases, holding his hands firm at your waist as he plants his feet, using all the stamina in his body to fuck into you at a rigid pace.

you can do nothing but whine and nod in your dumb, cockdrunk state. “god, you’re so perfect.” jean groans, rolling his hips skillfully into you. the sensation from behind is nothing like you’ve ever felt before, each push and pull adding onto the pleasure you felt deep within your core, the same pleasure that has your orgasm coming faster than expected. “r-ren, slow down, can’t take it!” you whimper, tears now staining your cheeks.

“can’t take it? you take anything i fuckin’ give you, bitch.” eren grunts, ignoring the faltering in his own strokes to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, squeezing tight enough to leave a bruise. the walls of your slick cunt hug around his cock, sending intense jolts of euphoria to your cunt until it’s all too much and you hit your orgasm, body trembling in the hold of the two large men. “f-fuck!” you cry out, your body sore from overstimulation.

eren follows suit, spilling his load into your throbbing heat with a low groan, riding his orgasm out until he’s sure you’ve been filled completely. jean rushes his own orgasm, pulling you down on his cock as he fills your ass with his seed.

you all take a collective moment to breathe before peeling yourselves away from each other’s warm bodies. haziness clouds your vision, too fucked out to even keep your eyes open until jean crawls over to you, his warm hands grazing your soft cheeks. “you alright, baby?” he coos. you inhale deeply before flashing him the faintest details of a smile. “yeah” you say while nodding your head, which earns the two of you a scoff from eren as he turns himself over.

jean narrows his eyes, shooting him an apathetic look before speaking. “are you alright, princess?” eren scoffs once more, hopping out of the bed. “whatever.”

jean pulls you to his chest, removing the pink collar from your neck and patting your head. “you did so well, baby. always so good for us.” the warmth of his toned chest is enough to lull you to sleep but the unexpected sound of the shower running pulls you from your slumbered trance. eren whips his head from the gap of the bathroom door, his eyes still low and clouded with lust as he gets your attention.

“are you guys gonna come in or what?”

tags - @mattyinc @suyasgf @ereh-simp @healpeony @iconicbabii @inusdoll @ryugamii @erentoes @intrrverted @monirei @kiryoh @leviiackermansgirl @lazyezstudy @kloesklarity @hannie2kay @quacksonlover81 @jeanappetit @clairedaconvict @lovelysho @latoxicav @bakuhoe-3 @antistellxr @erendisliker @asmos-pet @luvrtaro @sklycan @crybabyddl @bvnnichuu @aviinnit @jeanslove @dollta

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anarcoqueer1994 · 2 years ago

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His parents were never home, even from a young age. That's how he got his first experience with makeup. The Harrington’s live-in Nanny, Olivia, was often the only person Steve interacted with when he was young, becoming his parent figure. She was young, maybe early 20s, but four-year-old Steve adored her.

His favorite thing was to watch her she put on makeup in the morning. He loved to see the beautiful lines she created with the delicate makeup brushes. He even began asking her what she was doing and why, taking it all in, learning.

One day he got up the courage to ask if he could put some on. She looked apprehensive but relented when he flashed his puppy dog eyes. She told him though that this has to be thier little secret.

Steve loved it. He loved how pretty he felt with soft, subtle makeup. He loved how cool he looked with bold bright colors. And they had fun together, doing this for months, she teaching him, and he adoring that someone was taking the time to do something with him that he loved.

But all good things had to come to an end, and that ending was abrupt. His parents came home early from a trip, finding them in the living room, Olivia doing Steve’s make up. Steve having just done hers, even if it was a little messy. His father snapped "Steven, get upstairs and wash that shit off your face."

"But dad...."

"Now!" He shouted. Steve ran upstairs, did what he was told.

The next day, Steve had a new nanny, a meaner, more boring one. He never seen Olivia again.

Still, as Steve got older, when he was sure no one was around, he would sneak into his mother's room, and put on makeup, loving feeling pretty, and loving the almost artistry doing makeup felt like. This was few and far between, as his nanny or his parents would inevitably catch him. He had a few good bruises from his father reminding him that makeup is for girls or freaks or faggots.

So he tries to ignore it. Even when he didn't have a nanny anymore, staying home alone from the age of 13 onwards, he was terrified to get caught. His dad was right. Makeup is not for boys like him. Popular boys with rich families. An all American athlete. The only child of Hawkins most affluent family.

But every so often, he would think about doing his makeup, watch as girls he date would do their own, admiring how pretty they looked. He would subconsciously keep up on make up trends, loved the loud make up of celebrities like Madonna, or the soft colors used by Molly Ringwald. He was obsessed, but hid it for a long time. Only pulling out his secret stash of makeup when he felt particularly sad, and wanted to feel better.

He thought about telling Tommy once. He tested the waters asking "What do you think of these dudes wearing makeup?" Being vague, pointing to the cover of some magazine at the grocery store they were Boy George was on the front, another one with KISS.

Tommy just laughed "They're all just faggots and freaks man." And Steve was crushed, didn't bring it up again.

That was until the summer of 1986. He became more relaxed, more open with his friends. But even so, there were still things he was afraid to admit out loud. He was afraid to tell anyone other than Robin about his stupid massive crush on Eddie. But he was even more afraid of someone finding out about his makeup, so he didn't even tell her. This was something of Steve's own, something he liked and if people found out, he may have to stop, like the last time someone found out. When his father found out.

But he did start a dangerous habit. He began wearing a light pink lip gloss out, nothing dramatic,nothing obvious. Something that he could easily pass off as his own pretty pink lips. But he liked the feeling of his own quiet rebellion to a society that has told him what he could wear.

And luckily for him no one seemed to notice, or so he thought. But he was wrong. One day Robin invited him over to hang out, but when he got there, Nancy was also there. They were all in Robin’s room.

"Ahh come on." He complains "I don’t want to third wheel in one of your date nights."

"No, it's not like that, Steve." Nancy interjects. "I...we just noticed something and wanted to talk you, is that okay?"

Steve scrunched up his eyebrows, obviously confused. "Sure?"

Robin rolls her eyes at the obvious bush Nancy was beating around, never one to mince words with Steve. She blurts out. "What kind of lip gloss do you wear? I think it's really pretty."

Steve immediately goes red. "What....what are you talking about? I don't wear lip gloss? What? That's crazy." He rambles, palms getting sweaty as he plays with the hem of his shirt sleeve.

"Listen, Steve..." Nancy starts before being cut off by Robin. "Dude, it's fine if you do. I wasn’t lying, I like your lip gloss."

"You do? You don't think I'm weird or whatever?" Steve asks, still finding it hard to believe his friends cared about his interests even if they weren't traditional masculine dumb boy jock things, never getting that support before.

They both smile at him "Well I never said you weren't weird, dingus. But not because of this." She sticks out her tongue.

"Steve you are allowed to like things, it doesn’t matter what other people say or think." Nancy chimes in.

Steve can’t help but smile. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, there is more."

That afternoon Steve told them both about how much he likes to makeup, his own and other people's. This leads to Robin pulling out all of her makeup, and the three of them spending the afternoon painting each other’s faces. They both are surprised when Steve's abilities as a makeup artist far surpasses their own, encouraging him and making him feel seen. They tell him he could do this professionally if he wanted.

But he still swears them to secrecy, not ready to share this, and not really believing some washed up jock from a bum-fuck small town could ever make money doing this. That doesn’t mean they don't spend many nights over the next few months doing each other's makeup and bonding over those secret.

Unfortunately though, his secret doesn't stay between them for long. One night, when he was home alone(like he always was, his parents not returning to Hawkins since the "earthquake"), he decided to go all out. He wanted to do a full face, feel beautiful in a way only make up does for him. He had just finished, examining himself in the mirror in his bathroom, makeup skewn about on the counter.

He had dark eyeliner with heavy mascara, a dark pink covering his eye lids. He had foundation with pretty pink blush, and light pink lip stick with a shimmery strawberry gloss. And he felt gorgeous. He loved the contrast between the feminine makeup and his decidedly masculine outfit, just a pair of jeans and his polo shirt with blue and purple stripes. He actually allows himself to smile at the image in the mirror.

But he was do wrapped up with the makeup, he lost track of time, forgetting Nancy, Robin and Eddie were coming over for a movie night.(read Robin and Nancy desperately trying to set up Steve and Eddie because they were both oblivious idiots when it came to love) They let themselves in, Robin having the key.

"Steve! We're here." She shouts.

Steve freezes, panic taking over. This would be fine if Eddie wasn't with them, but as it stands, the boy he likes is in his house, and he's in here playing with makeup like some pansy. He stutters. "Uh.. um...one minute..." He turns on the water desperately, scrubbing his face. He doesn't even think about closing the opened bathroom door.

Eddie though, always in tune with Steve’s feelings, hears the distress in the other boy's voice. He instinctively runs towards it. By the time Robin and Nancy catch on to what is happening, it is too late. Eddie is standing at the bathroom door looking confused as Stevd stares at him like a dear in headlights, makeup smeared and running down his face. He looks distraught, humiliated, ashamed. He wants to climb into a hole and disappear. Nancy and Robin are behind him moments after, looking horribly guilty.

"Steve, what's going on?" Eddie asks, genuinely confused by the scene in front of him.

Eddie’s voice is enough to snap him out of it. Steve shakes his head saying "I'm not...feeling well. Let's um reschedule, please just go." He chokes out before pushing past them, running to his room, Slamming the door. Robin tries to stop him to no avail.

"Fuck..." Nancy says.

"Fuck is right." Robin agrees. "We fucked up." She slides down against the wall, Nancy following suite.

Eddie is still confused, but more than that, he is terrified for Steve. He looked so vulnerable and little when Eddie caught him. He had never seen Steve like that. He turns his attention to the girls. "What do you mean we fucked up?"

Robin and Nancy exchange glances, deciding they might as well tell Eddie. "A few months ago, Steve told us he likes makeup and stuff." Robin starts "But he made us promise not to tell anyone. And now you know, and like I think that is particularly hard for him. "

Eddie is more confused. He thought he was getting closer to this group but apparently the three of them have secrets he can't know. He doesn't know why, but it hurts. "Oh. Right. I forget sometimes you all have this special bond, and I'm just the new guy. This is one of those things that wasn't for me to know. Um, I'm going to get out of here so the three of you can talk this out." Eddie turns to leave, knows he isn't being fair, knows he is not entitled to Steve's secrets, but it still hurts. Steve know all of his(well except for his teenie tiny ginormous crush on Steve.)

"Eddie, you got it wrong." Nancy says trying to clear the confusion. "He is just embarrassed, especially with you."

"Wait, why me?" Eddie asks, still clueless. "Why would I care?"

Robin and Nancy both roll thier eyes at Eddie’s sheer obliviousness. "Maybe you should go talk to him?" Robin tries.

Eddie isn't sure about that. Steve looked mortified and he doesn't want to make it worse. But he also would give anything to take away the pained look in Steve’s eyes.

For as long as he has known Steve, he has watched as the man did everything for everybody else, took interest in thier hobbies, drove them where they wanted to go. But all this time, Steve obviously felt like he had to hide what he likes and why? Because he liked putting on makeup? It kind of killed Eddie inside to know Steve was ashamed of something like this.

He pushes his palms to his eyelids before letting out a sigh, and looking back at the girls. "Okay..." He says as he turns, hesitantly heading upstairs to where Steve had just run up to. He makes his way to Steve's bedroom door, and knocks softly.

"Please go away." Comes from the other side. His voice sounds hoarse. Was he crying?

"Stevie, come on...I just wanna talk." Eddie begs in return. His voice is sincere, soft, just wanting Steve to feel better.

There is a long silence but after a minute he hears the door unlock, opening slowly. In the other side of the door stood a boy with glassy red eyes, and makeup smeared from panicked removal and the tears. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, but before his brain could catch up to his body, he throws his arms around Steve, pulling him close, just wanting to make whatever bad Steve was feeling go away.

When his brain finally starts working, he expects Steve to pull away, but he doesn’t. Steve’s arms wrap around his waist, burying his head in Eddie's shoulder. Little tears are felt against his shirt. He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair whispering "It's okay..." internally he tries not to short circuit, having Steve so close to him, reminding himself he is here to make Steve feel better.

After a few minutes, Steve lifts his head. Realizing where his hand are, he quickly pulls away, nervously picking at the hem of his shirt instead. "Uh...thanks Eds..." Steve manages to say.

Eddie suddenly feels empty where Steve just was. Realizing they are still in the doorway of his bedroom he say "Can....can we talk?"

"Uh yeah...um let me just get this stupid shit off." Steve says, instinctively putting down something he obviously likes.

"Don't..." Eddie says pushing into Steve’s room, Steve following him, closing the door.

"What?" Steve looks confused

"I mean...you can like fix it or whatever, but you don't have to take it off." Eddie tries to be cool. But he sees the uncertain look in Steve’s face, and after the hug, he decides to just go for it. "I think you looked really pretty..." his usual confidence not there, realizing he is about to confess his huge crush to Steve Harrington.

He isn't sure what he expected, but it was not the huge blush forming on Steve's cheeks, a shy little smile spreading on his lips. "You do?' Steve asks softly.

Eddie lets out another nervous sigh, before taking Steve's hand and leading him to the edge of the bed where they sit staring at each other. "Steve, I always think you're beautiful. But seeing you in makeup, is something totally new and I love it. And not just because you look hot, and did so well putting it on. But when you were staring in the mirror before you noticed me at the door, you looked so happy. I wish you would have told me sooner, so I could have seen that smile sooner."

Now Steve's brain was in danger of malfunctioning. The boy he is sure he is in love with just called him beautiful, didn't care that he wore makeup and lived doing it. "You know, um, when my dad found out, he tried to beat this out of me. And then when I asked Tommy about it, he just made fun of it. " Steve looks down, trying to block out the angry face, the ugly sneers. He looks back up. "I was afraid to tell anyone, tell you because I didn't want you to look at me like some stereotypically little queer boy who likes makeup."

Steve just admitted he was queer, and it takes everything in Eddie not to pull him into a kiss right there. "Stevie you are so much more than that. You are still the most badass person I know, well after Nancy," he jokes, Steve laughing and agreeing. "But even badasses are allowed to lile whatever the fuck they want. And for the record, I like makeup. I want to try black eyeliner and nail polish but I suck at it. So maybe you can help me sometime?"

Steve blushes, nodding his head. "Yea anytime you want..." Eddie smiles back. They both sit in silence for a few moments both wanting to say more. It was Steve who breaks the silence...well sort if.

"Hey Eddie?" He says shyly.

"Yeah?" Eddie’s voice is hushed and breathy, electricity obviously forming in the air between them. Without another word, Steve wraps his hand in Eddie’s shirt, pulling him close, pressing his lips against other man's. It takes Eddie a few seconds to catch up, but it isn't long before his hands are back in Steve’s hair, kissing back, tasting the lip gloss on Steve’s lips.

When they pull apart, they are all smiles. After that Steve slowly tells thier other friends, and with the exception of a few dumb remarks from Mike(that everyone jumps on him for), they are all supportive. It isn't long before Steve finds himself doing Eddie’s makeup before shows, soon moving to the rest of Correded Coffin. He loves going to the shows, knowing he could wear makeup and no one would bat an eye.

As Corroded Coffin gets bigger, over the next couple years, people take notice of thier looks, still metal but polished. Other bands and artists start asking for thoer makeup artist, and to Steve's surprise he was able to make a career out of the thing he loved, father be damned.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steve harrington makeup artist

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 2 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Tom Roberts

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I love Tom, I love Kate, I especially love Riff, and I love you for making me watch this. One of my new favorites lol)

- When you first met Tom, you weren’t aware of his reputation. You’d just started attending the school and only knew him through your science class: the same science class which had you writing a report on meteorology.

- When he came up to you after class and launched into his rehearsed “cats and dogs” line, you were none the wiser and figured he was just trying to break the ice with something he assumed you were interested in. Sure it was dorky and lame, but you also thought it was kind of cute, so you brushed off the awkwardness and spoke to him normally.

- It wasn’t until you’d been at the school for a bit longer that you realized mentioning Idaho’s proclivity towards rain was just a sort of quirk of his.

- Did it make him seem less cool than he already was? Kind of. Did it turn you off completely? Absolutely not. You still found him cute ...in a dorky sort of way.

- Admittedly, you joined in on the long running gag that surrounded him from time to time, throwing his line back at him whenever you bumped into each other in the halls. But you didn’t just do it to amuse yourself, you did it to get past the typically awkward first sentences of your usual conversations and get to know him better. And though it took a while, your work finally started to pay off.

- You actually managed to get somewhere with the boy: talking about things other than the dryness of your state and on more than a few occasions, getting him to walk you to class or sit with you at lunch. He even started driving you to and from school every now and again; even though your house wasn’t on his typical route at all.

- It’s easy to see that he has a crush on you; just about everyone in your school can see it. It’s obvious in the way he blushes and smiles and talks all nervously when the two of you are together. And though you aren’t aware of the extent of his feelings nor the fact that he dreams about you, you’re entirely sure that he’s got a pretty decent sized crush on you and that it’s only a matter of time before he asks you out.

- Unfortunately for you, Tom; without meaning to, edges you with his confession; bordering on telling you how he feels before tearing it away completely just before he can finish.

- Whenever you’re alone together you more or less expect one and he does, on multiple occasions, gear up to give you one, but he always chickens out at the last minute and covers it up with a nervous goodbye or a not so subtle shift in subject/end of sentence. It’s enough to make you scream into your pillow and decide on taking matter into your own hands.

- So one day, while you’re sitting together at your typical empty lunch table, you just up and say it. “Tom, do you want to go out with me?”

- He chokes on his sandwich and you almost immediately regret saying anything, watching as he coughs and attempts to dislodge the bread from his throat.

“Geez, I was just trying to ask you out on a date, not kill you.” You mutter, sliding him his drink while he tries to clear away the last bit of inhaled lunch in his breathing canal.

“You wanna go out with me?” He questions, swallowing the last of his suffocation down while you glance down at your hands.

“Well, yeah? I mean if you don’t want to-” He interrupts you immediately.

“I want to! I mean I-I would love to,” You watch as his face turns pink for an entirely different reason than his prior coughing fit.

He smiles before continuing. “...When do you want to?”.

- The two of you make a few vague plans before you carry on with your typical lunch conversation, trying and failing to contain your smiles as you look at each other and picture hanging out after school; not only as friends but now as two potential lovers.

- He picks you up in his van later that day and though he’d had a few halfhearted expectations when it came to getting laid by the end of the night, all those sexual thoughts vanish the minute he parks at the sidewalk in front of your house and sees you in your date outfit.

- You’re more beautiful than he ever would have anticipated and all he can feel as he looks at you is love. And so, with sex taken off the backburner of his mind, the two of you continue on with your date like normal, heading to your towns bowling alley for a couple games, French fries, and soda.

- He contemplates kissing you a lot more than he manages to do it but luckily for you, this time you don’t actually have to wait very long for him to find the nerve to accomplish the feat. He’s walking you to class a couple days after your first date and as you’re saying goodbye in front of the door, he just sort of leans over and lays one on you.

- It’s quick and soft but you love it all the same and it makes your most boring period feel a lot less grim. Not only that, but you get to watch him walk away with an extra pep in his step that he hadn’t had before.

- And just like that, he couldn’t care less about Idaho. Instead, he’s thinking about here and now and how much he loves being with you.

- If you’re a very affectionate person then you’ll probably wind up showing him more affection than he shows you but that doesn’t mean he never touches or loves on you. In fact, pda is very common is your relationship, it’s just that he tends to let you take the lead: putting an arm around your waist when you cuddle into him or happily letting you lean on his shoulder/hold his arm.

- He puts his arm around your waist a lot: either having you snuggle into his side while he does so or wrapping both of them around you while you talk in the hall; your own hands on his stomach or the opening of his jacket.

- He also has a tendency to pinch your chin/lift it up with his finger from time to time. It’s a fairly adorable habit of his.

- When it comes to chaste kisses, he prefers kissing your lips more than anything else; planting a soft one onto the area instead of pecking your cheek or forehead. He just thinks its more worth his time; and he also sort of hopes it’ll evolve into a longer and deeper kiss depending on where you are/how much time you have.

- Speaking of long and deep kisses: makeouts are quite common in your relationship and definitely aren’t reserved for just behind closed doors. He’s grown to not care about public response so don’t be surprised if he starts making out with you on the steps of the school or somewhere equally in view.

- But if you aren’t down for a French kiss in front of your French teacher then he’ll dial it down a bit and just kiss you softly and sweetly. For someone who isn’t very good with his words or with romance in general, he’s a surprisingly good kisser.

- Pet names aren’t really his thing, they tend to feel a bit awkward coming out of his mouth; sort of like he’s putting on an act, but they do slip out from time to time; mostly baby or something like “sweetpea”. It’s kind of a jarring experience to have your relatively dorky creampuff huskily groan out “baby” in the middle of sex/makeouts but you certainly aren’t complaining.

- Tom’s a pretty big cuddler, so much so that he feels a bit betrayed when you call off your weekly hangouts; the times where he’d get his affectionate fill. He’s mainly a big spoon; or a variation of a big spoon depending on where the two of you are lounging, but he also enjoys laying his head and shoulders in your lap from time to time.

- You’ve pretty much got a perfect hangout place to go to whenever the two of you want to be alone; his lovely little van. He can park it anywhere and the two of you can sit and relax: listen to music, cuddle, drink; whatever you want to do. It’s like having your own little apartment away from your parents and any other worldly interruptions.

- Speaking of his van: he most definitely bought it with you in mind and it’s a perfect representation of how much he’s willing to shell out or sacrifice for the sake of love. He’ll bleed himself dry trying to make you happy or make things perfect for you so try not to abuse your power.

- Him trying to make things perfect for you is a running theme and you won’t even know the half of it. He’ll spend an hour getting ready, change the placement of the pillows on the couch five times, jog a mile to pick flowers because he thought a vase needed to have them, etc. He won’t mention any of it and you’ll take no notice for obvious reasons but it makes him feel good knowing that he did whatever he could.

- Listen, I’m just gonna tell it like it is: you’re his first girlfriend and probably his first everything else so try to be nice and understanding with him. He gets deterred pretty easily when he feels like he’s making a fool of himself so try your best to silently let him know you don’t mind his clumsiness and that he hasn’t killed the mood.

- He doesn’t totally realize that you like him just the way he is: that his dorkiness is more appealing to you than any inherently smooth or suave move another guy in school can pull off. When you finally let him know that this is the case, he’s over the moon and turns the brightest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

- Bridal carrying and other gentlemanly acts. He might not be able to unclasp your bra with one hand but he is able to pick you up like you weigh nothing and carry you over a puddle so your shoes don’t get dirty, or make you guys look like the coolest couple at the dance.

- Speaking of dances: he loves dancing with you; even if he’s more of a ‘twirl you around’ kind of guy. He’s not a great dancer but he learns pretty quickly and he’s never afraid to do it just to make you happy.

- Concert dates.

- Road trips.

- Going to pep rally’s and all of his football games.

- Playing dungeons and dragons and engaging in other high fantasy hobbies. He’s a secret enjoyer of all things geeky so don’t be surprised when he takes you to the newest movie about wizards or gushes to you about a book that centers around dragons.

- As geeky and dorky as he is, he’s got a bit of a thing for girls who are rock n rollers or other more inherently cool subgenres; though he’s kind of got a thing for all girls so I suppose that doesn’t really say much. I’m just saying not to be surprised if you’re the badass of the school and wind up with a boyfriend who looks like he’d describe your breasts as being “neat”.

- Speaking of breasts: he’s obsessed with yours! You can very easily get your way if you wear a low cut top or flash him at random, and he’ll most certainly be heavily distracted by them on more than a few occasions.

- Yes he’ll go to the beach with you even though he spent like five minutes talking about how he didn't have the time. No it has nothing to do with seeing you in a bikini....

- He’s not really used to rebelling but he soon becomes your partner in crime: doing everything with you and enjoying little pranks and equally troublemaking activities. He’s surprisingly open to engaging in wild shenanigan's so a majority of the time just ask and you shall receive.

- He’s open to a lot of different things, wanting to broaden his horizons more than anything, so 90% of the time he’ll be willing to try anything at least once. Tell him about your favorite music, take him to your favorite places, show him different games and sports, etc. He’ll probably really enjoy at least a good few of them.

- Doing little self care routines. He’s a man who cares about his complexion and that’s a man you want to keep.

- On that same note: if you want to make him over than all you have to do is ask. He kind of gets a kick out of letting you fuss over and dress him up, especially when you get all touchy after turning him into your ideal type; clothing-wise that is.

- Almost everyone in school is gonna wonder why you’d choose to date a dork like Tom but they also sort of get why at the same time. You don’t appreciate everyone thinking your wonderful boyfriend is boring but it is kind of reassuring to have him all to yourself; not that he’d ever stray away from you to begin with.

- And most people are well aware when it comes to how in love with you he is. All they have to do is take one look at his half lidded expression and the way his eyes are locked onto you and they’ll know in an instant.

- Eaglebauer is sort of embarrassed by how whipped for you he is but at the same time, it seems to be working for him so he guesses he’ll let him off the hook. Not everyone can be a stud like him.

- Just don’t be surprised if the man comes sniffing around every now and again, filling your boyfriends head with ideas and making him try out different out of character moves on you. Though some of them are kind of fun sometimes....

- It might not be technically “smooth” but being subtly reminded that your boyfriend dreams about you does a lot more for you than any other playboy move. Like, seeing him go all pink when he realizes he’s describing a raunchy dream he had about you to you or watching him stop himself before he gives you any details because he realizes it’s kind of lame makes you fall for him even harder than he already had.

- Don’t use sarcasm with him or try to tease him, he doesn’t pick up on it and it’ll just end up making you feel bad.

- Sneaking drinks when you’re with him. He tends to get a bit bolder when he’s drunk and loses his nervousness so it’s fairly amusing to be with him. You like seeing the different side of him from time to time.

- Jacuzzis are his kryptonite. Mention that a party has a hot tub and he’s bound to agree to go with you.

- Him picking you little flowers while you’re out walking together or before the two of you are meant to see each other.

- I’m convinced he made you a bracelet, or any other sort of thoughtful little present, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

- He’s got your picture hanging up in his locker and seeing it never fails to make you smile.

- A big bonus to dating Tom is just how much your parents trust him. On the outside, Toms a football playing, all American, star student: he looks as pure as American pie. So; even though he still is pretty sweet and innocent, they’re completely unaware of his more mischievous side and they give the two of you much more leniency than they probably should.

- Tom isn’t terribly prone to jealousy; unless you really start to blow him off and/or play into it. He’s fine with you having male friends or other things of the sort but as soon as you start neglecting him and your couples hangouts he starts to have a problem with it; and starts biting his telephone when you call off yet another date of yours.

- He’s both protective over you and not protective over you at the same time. He blindly follows your orders to chase someone and has a habit of trying his best to make sure you’re okay but he’ll also occasionally hide behind you when things get scary so I guess you can say he views you as equals.

- The two of you really don’t fight all too often. You’ll whisper yell and bicker on occasion but that's usually the extent of your fights: you never have screaming matches or insult each other; just argue and then resolve things.

- He’ll give you some space, maybe hang up the phone and relax for a little while, but it doesn’t take long for him to call you back and apologize or for the two of you to mutually work things out. Most arguments end as quickly as they begin so it’s really not something to worry about.

- Tom would tell you he loves you constantly and you can pry that idea out of my cold dead hands. He is the whiney boyfriend who can’t leave until you say it back so you can cry about that if you want to, but I refuse to not acknowledge it.

- He’s the blueprint for a malewife/the lame husband who has a much cooler and accomplished wife so do with that what you will. Just know that he’s going to the college of his choice and that he has a lot to offer you.

#tom roberts imagine #tom roberts headcanon #tom roberts imagines #tom roberts headcanons #rock n roll high school imagine #rock n roll high school headcanons #rock n roll high school imagines #rock n roll high school headcanon #70s movie imagine #70s movie headcanons #70s movie imagines #70s movie headcanon

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lorbanery · 1 year ago

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Listen

Helena Bonham Carter is a phenomenal actress. It is not her fault that she's been typecast as the kooky aging mall goth aunt for the past, like, fifteen years. Watch pretty much anything she's done outside of Terfwarts and anything directed by Burton and you can see that.

The fact that her Mrs. Lovett is like sleepwalking through the movie is a deliberate choice and I think based on her other performances and how deliberately she seems to be acting aloof and half asleep makes it obvious that it was a deliberate directorial choice.

Now you could argue that oh it's just a different take on the character and just because it's different doesn't make it bad! Which is true!

What makes it bad is that the two main characters sing an entire song where they're trying to one-up each other in a 3 minute long pun-off making this face -_- the whole time.

Mrs. Lovett spends the entire show frantically running around doing everything she can and then some to make Sweeney even vaguely accepting of a relationship with her, making up whole ass romantic domestic bliss out of those crumbs, and then being SHOCKED and APPALLED when reality doesn't line up with her fantasy.

But Burton really wants me to believe that "trudging around the set with constant resting bitch face like she can barely be assed to get out of bed" is a valid character choice?

The only thing that really does is solidify that Burton really, fundamentally, does not care about anyone's work but his own.

Like, we already saw a bit of this with Alice in Wonderland. He's one record as saying that he never liked the original story because it didn't make sense [insert "the point going over your head" meme], which is a WILD thing for a self-declared Weirdo Freak to say, first of all. So his goal was to make it make sense and the result of that was this tortured Chosen One story where the Mad Hatter has fucking PTSD-induced DID or whatever the hell.

Because he fundamentally does not respect the source material. And I think you can see that in Sweeney Todd too.

A lot of people have written and talked at length about how Burton's continued self-identification as a weirdo well into the era when he was just being handed massive properties with multi-million dollar budgets to do whatever the fuck he wants with them is part of why his movies have been so blah at best. Most of those people have also pointed out that the movie he's most known for — The Nightmare Before Christmas — wasn't even actually directed by him, it was just based on a story that he wrote and his illustrations.

And I'd argue that that ... kind of feeds into this disrespect he seems to have to properties that aren't his own.

Because he still thinks of himself as this weird goth kid who no one understands and makes weird niche media for weird cult movie enjoyers. And that was kind of true! Anyone who grew up in the '90s can tell you that while TNBC was generally well-known, it was well-known in the way that the stop-motion Rudolph movie was well-known. It was a niche holiday movie that it was normal for some people to watch around Halloween and/or Christmas, but liking it beyond that was kind of weird.

But you know what? It's currently 20-fucking-23 and I can decorate my house in entirely TNBC-themed Halloween decorations if I wanted to bought entirely at my local Walgreens. The man isn't weird or niche anymore. And arguably hasn't been for, like, twenty years.

Now, I fully believe that the guy who said "Hey what if Frankenstein but a kid bringing his beloved dog back to life and also the neighborhood still brutally chases the mosterdog down in the final act?" was treated as kind of a big weirdo at Disney in the '90s. But it's also important to note that ... Frankenweeinie still got made. And I'm not even talking about the full length animated feature! There was a whole ass live action short film starring the kid from The Neverending Story, Shelly fucking Duvall, and with an appearance by a young Sofia Coppola! And it came out almost TEN YEARS before TNBC did! SIX years before Edward Scissorhands! FOUR years before Batman! So you can't even argue that they only made it because he was having some big silver screen success so wanted to indulge him!

Anyway, my point was that I can see how a guy who thinks of himself as fundamentally weird and outsider, as the lifelong goth who only makes niche movies for cult movie enjoyers? Would think of these other pieces of popular media as somehow above his in popular culture. Like, it doesn't matter that Alice in Wonderland has been a literary haven for most kids who actually find themselves on the outskirts of mainstream culture. What matters is that it's a story that everybody knows. Therefore, as a self-declared niche movie maker and weirdo, it's not only makes sense for Burton to not like Alice in Wonderland, it's actually good and cool for him to not like it.

"But what about Batman?"

A fair point. Burton's Batman movies are the most widely acclaimed Batman movies, except among people who are pissed off about the liberties he took with Penguin and Catwoman in Batman Returns. I, personally, love both of them.

There's an argument to be made that they were made earlier in his career when he still cared about pleasing someone other than his own skewed ego.

But I think there's also something else to be said for the place Batman held in mainstream culture at the time. Because I think Burton, more than anyone else, including Frank Miller, brought Batman into mainstream adult culture.

Because it has to be pointed out that while the '60s and '70s saw DC comics dealing with more serious topics and handling those topics in more mature ways, superhero comics were, at that point, still largely seen as media for kids. Like, you want to know why the Adam West Batman series was so campy and over-the-top? It's because they were spoofing what were essentially kids' cartoons. The bungling cops, the over-dramatic, heavily themed supervillains, Batman's rigid devotion to traffic safety laws? It was the "Captain America PSA meme" of its time.

So Batman was already pretty niche, at least for adult audiences. And given the dark and brooding tone that Batman comics were starting to develop around the time Burton was growing up? I fully believe that there was something about Batman that Burton liked. Otherwise? It was a fluke. And the fact that his personal brand fit neatly into the Batman mythos meant that the "fix" just kind of worked entirely by accident.

Anyway, all this to say someone get Guillermo Del Toro to adapt Sweeney Todd But Good so that I can stop being mad that the movie adaptation was such a trashfire.

Also if you've only seen the movie, please look up the filmed production of the original Broadway cast (including Angela Lansbury as Mrs. Lovett!). It used to be up for free on Youtube, but you might have to go further afield to find it now. But GOD it's so worth it.

Every time I listen to a good rendition of "A Little Priest" I'm forced to remember how horribly Burton's "Sweeney Todd" butchered (haha) it and I get angry about it all over again.

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified.

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side.

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to.

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is.

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him.

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there.

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up.

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you.

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe.

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good.

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway.

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them.

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red.

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out.

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks.

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back.

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair.

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it.

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight.

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later.

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now.

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke.

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you.

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you.

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

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hmslusitania · 4 years ago

Text

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 season 5 speculation #this isn't actually speculation it's just goofy #but hey that promo exists so now it's fair game #buddie #technically anti bt #but mostly because it's a buddie ficlet #the ghost ship scribbles

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