#hes just smashing dolls together at this point

[freddyloyd]

💀

[beigetiger]

This will probably be my last post about Murder Drones ever, but I really do love that the message of the finale is basically just…we should do more cringe things.

Liam Vickers is out here making a silly little robot show with no particularly deep or existential message (which half the fandom was expecting) and is instead smashing his characters together like dolls, making them anime fight with nightcore music in the background, and giving them fucked up to the point of ridiculousness character development/trauma, with the message that this is fun and lighthearted and that we should kill cringe culture and instead do more of what he’s doing.

And honestly? Go off king, that is a GREAT message to spread and a delightful subversion to what everyone was expecting for the finale. We SHOULD spend more time doing cringe things and making fanart and pop culture references and edgy OCs. You’re so correct that not everything needs to be deep or meaningful.

I know a lot of people are going to hate the finale for the lack of story, but honestly this show is just here to have fun and I’m rolling with that. Go be cringe and weird and free.

[quinnysnursery]

hi!! could you do caregiver!chris and little!fem reader where the two are playing around and chris is chasing her around the house until she accidentally bumps into something/falls down, causing her to cry and chris goes into immediate caregiver mode? thank you sm, so excited about this account!! :)

[🥤] bumps 'n bruises | chris sturniolo one-shot

paring : caregiver!chris sturniolo x gn!little!reader

divider credit : @kyejiz

a/n : working on a masterlist this weekend! (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl !)

“I’m gonna get you!” Chris’ voice echoed through the hallway, along with the sounds of your fuzzy sock-covered feet against the hardwood floor and the soft giggles you were letting out along the way.

The two of you had been playing this game of “Tickle Monster Chase” for around an hour now. What originally started as a way for you to get your energy out before your nap, turned into a full-on game.

Chris wasn’t the best when it came to keeping a routine, it was his biggest weak point as a caregiver. There had been plenty of times you skipped a nap due to both of you having too much fun playing and today was no exception. 

As you rounded the corner to take shelter in Chris’ room, you got the brilliant idea that you would shut the door before hiding under the bed away from the “Tickle Monster”.

Genius, right?

You thought so.

Another giggle emitted from you as you quickly turned the doorknob to your caregiver's room, sliding in and quickly trying to shut the door.

However, what you didn’t expect was for the door to move faster than you thought it would. As if in slow-motion you watched the wooden door swing close on your delicate hand.

The fear was more intense than the pain, at first. What if you broke something? What if you had to get the whole thing chopped off? What if dada didn’t want to play with you anymore?

Only after your eyes began to water at these anxious thoughts did your brain decide to register the pain.

And oh god it hurt.

“D-Dada!” You cried out.

Chris, who had stopped a few strides behind you to give you a fair chance, was now by your side in seconds.

“What happened?” He asked, his tone was serious. He quickly realized how you whimpered at this, not recognizing that he wasn’t mad at you and was instead focused on your injury.

“Baby, I need you to tell me what happened.” Chris tried again, letting the caregiver voice™️ seep through his vocal cords. You sniffled, the floodgates of your eyes beginning to open as tears began streaming down your cheeks.

“M’- M’ wanted to hide!” You attempted explaining, letting out a sharp whine as Chris ran a gentle finger over your already-bruising hand.

Chris nodded, trying to piece together what had happened based on the limited information. “And the door smashed your hand?” He asked, gently pushing your hair behind your ears.

You nodded before looking up at him with tear-ridden eyes. “M’ sorry!” You choked out 

“Hey…shhh, it’s alright. I’m not mad.” Chris comforted, gently leading his little one to the bed. “Can you move your hand for me, doll?” He asked, his mind already racing about the possibility of a fractured bone.

You trusted him with your littlespace. You trusted him to look after and nurture you while in headspace and he failed you.

Chris was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as you leaned into him, your tear-stained cheeks dampening his shirt (not that he’d ever mind). “Please, angel? For dada?” He asked, placing a gentle kiss atop your head.

After wrapping his arm around your torso and gently rubbing your upper arm, you began to stretch out your curled-up hand. Naturally, it hurt. However, to both your and Chris’ shock, it wasn’t unbearable. Henceforth, it wasn’t broken. In a few days, you’d have a gnarly bruise, but at least it wasn’t broken.

Your caregiver let out a sigh of relief, squeezing you gently. “Let’s get you some ice, okay?” He offered. You sniffled and let out a meek “..’kay dada..” before following the brunette downstairs to the kitchen. 

After wrapping a kitchen towel around a few pieces of ice from the fridge, Chris sat you on a countertop. “It might hurt for just a second, but the ice is gonna feel nice.” Your caregiver assured you, gently pressing the compress to your hand.

You couldn’t help but giggle, despite the pain. “Dada rhymed…” You mumbled, leaning your head against Chris’ chest. Chris smiled, “I did, didn’t I?” He played along, relieved to find your sense of humor hadn’t also been smashed.

A few moments of silence passed, the two of you processing the events of earlier.

“I’m really sorry,” Chris mumbled, still ashamed he’d let you get hurt during a game he suggested. You looked up at him, tilting your head in confusion. “You got hurt on my watch, that’s not cool.” He said remorsefully, already planning the full-length conversation he’d be having with you when you came out of littlespace. 

“You didn’t mean to…” You said gently, looking up at your caregiver. “It was jus’ an ac’ident dada.” You smiled wrinkling up your nose as you did. Chris smiled too, letting the compress rest on the counter as he engulfed you in a tight hug. 

Everything would be okay, even the bumps ‘n bruises. 

[partycatty]

was requested to write interviewer!reader by this lovely post so here we are. @super-ssimp

johnny cage > interview

you, a reporter, have some questions for the hollywood heartbreaker. he just can't seem to focus on your questions.

notes: heheheheeggeheegehehegeh he's so fine in the gif i'm gonna shit everywhere

[ masterlist ]

• a box-office smash hit dropped after a long quiet period from hit star johnny cage, back stronger than ever with a movie that blew audiences away with its storytelling and casting. you had to squeeze in an interview with the director, cage himself. you were a part of a big company, front lining with interviews and now face to face with probably one of the most attractive men you'd ever worked with.

• johnny sat in his chair across from you, adjusting his hips ever so slightly in his seat as he holds intense eye contact with you. you return the stare, as hard as it is while a makeup specialist tidied up the powder on your brow.

• "you look great, doll," he's quick to charm, pointing a finger with a grin. "don't sweat this. you'll be fine."

• "i know i'll be," you return his affirmations with your own confidence, a beaming grin on your features that makes his breath hitch. "i've been in this job for nine years, mr. cage. we just haven't met."

• "what.. a.. shame," his voice is teasing, somehow his flirtations come off as honey smooth rather than sleazy. you scoff playfully, earning a laugh from the both of you. two assistants clip microphones to your tops, testing them quickly and hearing a full go-ahead to begin the interview.

• "i'm here with johnny cage, director of the new smash hit 'mortal kombat,'" your voice is smooth, experienced. "i suppose my first question is; what inspired such a story? it's unlike anything we've seen in films."

• the question seemingly didn't register at first, his faraway gaze blocking his thoughts. realizing his flaw, johnny snaps into celebrity mode, "oh, hrm — the ideas that came to me were because of a massive arc in my life. uh — without getting too into it, i was at a low point in the last year, running myself into the dirt. something changed and i wanted to be the new, young, and pretty one behind the camera for once rather than in front of it. i spent the entire summer writing and consulting some friends of mine and we were able to pull this film together based on our relationships and experiences. you won't see anything else like it because there isn't anything else like it. i was inspired by my life, and there is no other johnny cage in this timeline than the one you're talkin' to."

• you nod and agree, face hot at the way his expression lights up with passion as he walks you through his process. "right, and this was after a long hiatus, was it not? there were, rumors, so to speak—"

• "my divorce?" he cuts you off with a glint in his eye as he toys with his ring. "no need to dance around it, i suppose. yeah, different life paths, but i'm a changed man. single and ready to mingle as soon as me and my team crank out some projects we've had in the works."

• "so you confirm yourself to be single? confirming the rumors?" you clarify, leaning forward in interest — whether it was for your own or for the public's, you wouldn't disclose.

• "why?" his question catches you off guard. johnny rests a hand on his chin, tilting his head as he squints. a large grin creeps up onto his lips. "you interested?"

• you tense up, nervously giggling as your eyes dart around the small production team who is trying equally as hard to not laugh at your position. you were trained and professional and yet this man turned you into a blushing mess for all cameras to see. "that's not my question, mr. cage—"

• "—johnny," he interrupts you, pose unmoving. "the pretty ones get to call me johnny."

• what was he getting at? your notecards feel unreadable and your brain's fuzzing from the sudden attention. he was a pretty man, that much was sure, but was he really flirting with you or pushing his behavior for attention? it was hard to tell, his affections were dizzying enough.

• he chuckles at your blank, sweaty stare, your lips opening and closing like the dumbest fish in the tank. you'd been hit on before by interviewees but johnny took the cake without a doubt, from his veiny arms to his touchable hair, all the way to his tight, round—

• "earth to interviewer," johnny's teasing fingers wiggled in your face, grounding you back to the rickety wooden chair and blinding lights. "too much, or not enough?"

• "neither," you lazily protest as you come to. "just didn't... expect all of that." the interview proceeds as normal, with johnny's clicks and compliments littered to keep you flustered right when you regained your composure. it must've been a game to him, how long you're heated over a simple compliment. but it wasn't the compliment necessarily, it was the person giving them.

• it wraps up just as quickly as it started, and the production was being wrapped up the moment you delivered your outro. johnny's suspiciously large, dreamy grin was plastered onto his face for a strangely long amount of time.

• "it was nice working with you," you try to be cordial, it's hard when that smug look is looking back at you, like he's planning something. before you could stick around to figure it out, you spin on your heel with a beet-red blush on your cheeks.

• johnny visibly startles at your sudden turn, reaching forward to grab your wrist before you could fully face away. he flinches at himself and his abruptness, too eager to give away his desperation for just a little more time. he pulls away, scratching his neck.

• "sorry, doll," he gestures toward your wrist, a confused frown on your lips burying his ego for a moment. "just... hey, listen."

• "i'm listening," you cock a brow, stomach flipping at the out-of-script interaction.

• "me and you," he starts with a groaning sigh, struggling to find the words you stole from his throat from one look. "just us two. no cameras, no questions, no divorce — wait —" his slip-up makes you giggle. "no, no, really. lets go out sometime. gimme a shot, whatdya say?"

• "out?" your tone is teasing, a smirk of your own forming on your lips. "you flatter a lowly reporter."

• "you're not lowly," his voice drops down, more serious with a heartfelt smile. "you... make it hard to focus." he's silent for a moment before jumping into his playful attitude. "pick a different career, you're distracting me! but seriously, dinner? movie? not one of mine, i swear!"

• "only if you swear," you grin up at him, feeling far more human with johnny than you had in the interview.

[euphoriesx]

W/ THE BOY NEXT DOOR? GURL, YOU'RE IN 4 A TREAT !!

director romi's first movie starring choso kamo !!

CO-STARRING : fem! reader, suggestive.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ when choso moves in, you don't bat an eye - well, in actual fact, you do. his compression shirt is too tight on his torso, accentuating his lean figure, and oh, those abs are something you can't miss. and look at those boo- you stop yourself, walking right back into your house. however, rather unknown to you, there's going to be many more encounters with this lucky stranger.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ that time your car didn't work, choso drove you to your date. it was awkward, of course, but there was no way you were walking all the way to the selected meeting spot. for the first five minutes, you were both silent, till he asked something. it was the first time you realised his voice was quite ... attractive. soft and velvety.

'you're not single?'

'nah.' you gave him a straight answer, though regretted it immediately, seeing a sunken look in the raven head's face.

'funny. i'd have thought a pretty girl like you would have a guy already.'

'why else would i be living alone?'

you got out of the car straight after that, deciding it would be better to just walk the rest of the way. no point in trying to communicate with someone you'd probably never see or talk to again.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ but the breaking moment was the presence of choso's little brother, yuji. he was seven at the time, though when you asked choso about the age difference, he merely shrugged it off. you'd become friends at this point, despite your warnings to yourself to not get so close to him, though you found yourself squished on a couch desperately, dangerously close to choso, yuji sitting on the carpeted floor, giggling as he smashed dolls against one another, making loud sound effects every so often.

'your house is nice.' you smile, feeling your heart jump as choso leans closer to hear you amidst yuji's 'kapows' and 'boom!! killed you's. it's when you realise his eyes are very pretty ... so is his hair ... well, his whole face, really.

little did you know, he thought the same thing about you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ the funniest moment of all had to be the 'joke' date choso set up, of course with your consent, just to get back on a particularly bitchy ex ('who would leave choso kamo of all people?' you had asked yourself, as he recounted the news to you). you still keep the polaroids near your bed every night, stuck to your vanity; it brought a smile to your face even if you passed it and saw the photos through your peripheral vision, recognising every little figure and smile that made choso.

you never heard if that ex got back together with him, but deep inside, you really did hope that she didn't. if you were hideous enough to dump choso, then you didn't deserve any of his attention. it brought a huff to your lips, though probably something more akin to jealousy rather than frustration on his part.

he lied. he just wanted to be with you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ it's when the alcohol pours out of your mouths and drips onto the floor that he confesses - and it's more than a confession, it's a declaration of love, a love that never dies in the nine months he has stayed beside your house, seeing your every movement and coy grin. his 22nd, and he's invited you over among the sneaky comments from his friends about the girl he's pulled, comments you brush off.

'you know, i really like you, y/n.'

'you're lying,' you slur, tipping a shot down your throat.

'nah' nah,' he giggles. 'i love you so much. from the very moment i saw you, from the moment we met eyes, i needed you. not just to hold, i wanna feel you de-eeep inside, wanna feel you from the inside out, ya know?'

'if ya think love's like dat, then maybe i love you too,' an equally giddy laugh from your part, as you feel a wild hand stroke itself down the small of your back, grip your ass tightly, as if you're the only possession of his in the whole world.

'feel me inside of you, if ya luv me so much.' a slutty grin, and your eyes trail down his broad shoulders, down his snatched waist, his veiny forearms, his long hands, those fingers that you'd love so much to feel up your throbbing little clit.

'oh god, i will.' is your only answer, as he throws you over his shoulder, the plastic cup now somewhere only he knows. and, oh god, what a treat.

[lace-coffin]

Ughhh i love all ur asa things they make me so happy to read!!!!(the ughhh in a /pos way)

But could you do something maybe if u want of asa headcannons where the reader cant sleep without a stuffed toy because it just comforts them to feel safer and they ask him for one over and over and refuses to sleep without one (literally me fr) and they would be violent snap back at him or ignores him till he gets them one and when they do they would become the nicest person ever and start obeying again and snuggle with it all the time AHHHH also the reader would be a house pet if u write about them being at his home instead of the hotel

sorry for the rlly bad grammer or whatever im writing this ask on phone+im trying to be specific because you said it’s easier but im not that good at being specific😭😭

(even if that’s childish to refuse to sleep without a stuffed toy i rlly relate to it so💔)

Thank u sm for the compliment omg!! Don’t worry about being specific if it’s hard for you, feel free to request in any way that makes you comfortable!

It’s not childish at all to sleep with a stuffed animal so don’t feel ashamed, I sleep with my stuffed lamb “lamby” every night and have since I was like 2, she also travels with me!

Asa Emory x gn!reader! Who needs a stuffed animal to sleep

Requests are closed (for now!)

“Please..I’ll be good”

“We’ve been over this, you’re not having her back until you can redeem yourself. End of conversation.”

—

Usually you were a relatively behaved pet, well maybe Asa was more lenient on you than has other “projects” back at the hotel, but well behaved to your standards. You had the privilege of being your masters house pet and significant other, love and submission were intrinsically connected for both you and Asa.

More lenient or not, Asa would be sure to let you know when you were in trouble, and you fucked up. Bad.

You’d been in a sour mood all day, nothing particularly bad had happened to ruin your day however it was like you were itching for an argument, nit picking everything and back chatting your owner, flat out refusing orders just to be a nuisance. It all came to a head during bed time, after squirming whilst being dressed and refusing to get into bed, Asa had already lost his patience with you. Taking it out on your phone that Asa had recently gifted you was the last straw.

During your struggle you’d grabbed your phone, using it as a projectile to ward him off, not only had you missed, you’d watch it hit the mirror, smashing both the glass and screen. After a moment of shock you retreat back into the bed you were vehemently avoiding the minute prior, tail between your legs in panic.

He understood sometimes it can be a lot in this dynamic considering how it came about from less favourable circumstances but today you’ve been pushing him to breaking point. Pushing his buttons on purpose and running from the consequences.

Asa stares back at you from your place in bed, hands flexing and unflexing. He pauses, taking a deep breath and holding for a few seconds to ground himself before releasing and addressing you.

“Sweep it up” he says sternly, gesturing to the dustpan and brush stored in the corner. You grimace but comply, not wanting to make things worse. You clean silently and efficiently, returning to your bed once you finish.

“Better. Now, I don’t know what has gotten into you today and I’m more than happy to talk if you need to but we both know you’ve been deliberately disobedient and destructive. So, I’ll be taking this-“ Asa grabs your stuffed toy sat beside you “until you can learn to behave and treat your things with respect”

Your eyes widen in shock and your fingers twitch with the need to grab it back, you refrain and lace them together, instead settling to give your owner a pouty pissed off look. You knew that having your belongings taken away was an agreed consequence for bad behaviour but it didn’t mean it sucked any less.

“Don’t give me that look doll, you can have her back when you show me you can behave ok? Until then she’s safe with me.” His voice is stern but soft enough to be reassuring, you know he’s not angry at you and he only wants the best for you.

After placing your plushie into his office and locking it he joins you in your shared bed, letting you cuddle up to his side.

Unsurprisingly you ask for her back the next morning despite literally only sleeping between then and last night. Also unsurprisingly he says no. “It’s only been a few hours cricket, you need to show me how you can be good for me, I know you can be such a sweet pup if you try” you huff but agree.

After two more attempts in the span of three hours you declare war. You can’t and won’t wait. In reality you’re afraid, you know you can’t sleep without her, last night was restless and anxiety filled, you didn’t wake Asa because you didn’t want him to think you were being a baby…

Just like that you’re back to being snippy with him, rolling your eyes and talking back. Pretending not to hear him when he calls for you, making everything difficult out of pure spite. You need her back or you know tonight is going to be just as horrible as the last.

“I’m not doing shit until you give her back!!” You bite at Asa, stomping your foot for good measure. All he’d done was ask you to prepare for a bath…

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Asa relents.

“What is this all about puppy? You’ve been touchy since yesterday and somehow even worse today, I understand you aren’t happy about being punished but you’re supposed to be showing me how much you deserve her back.” He pauses for a moment, taking your hands in his and connecting eyes. The look on his face is taut but not angry, unsure of what the issue is but concerned with your distress.

“There’s more to this isn’t there pet. Tell me.”

“Can’t sleep” you mumble, eyes darting down to stare at your socked feet on the hardwood flooring.

“Speak up please”

“I can’t sleep without her! I couldn’t sleep last night and I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I have her back! I know it sounds childish but she makes me feel safe, I-i can’t do it without her” you sniffle

Asa’s face softens, hand cupping your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. “Oh pet, thank you for telling me, I wasn’t aware confiscating her would distress you this much. I know we both agreed to this in the rules but it seems to have touched a nerve and for that I’m sorry. We’ll iron the rules out and then she will be returned to you, sound good?”

You sniffle and nod, leaning into the warm touch of your masters palm.

“I still expect you to take your punishment but we will discuss it later and make sure we’re both comfortable with it” he tacks onto the end.

Sure enough you update your contract and your fluffy friend is returned to you with another hushed apology from Asa and even one to your plushy, making you giggle.

The day finally feels normal again, tears are dried and you’re back to obeying and being your cuddly usual self, practically hanging off your master as he works or cooks, nuzzling into his neck contently. Mistakes are bound to happen but you always figure it out in the end, only wanting the best for eachother, there’s no one you would rather make mistakes with than Asa.

[agendergorgon]

I started out in the Worm fandom (superhero webnovel, very long) by writing a stupid fic about Worm's protagonist, bullied teen Taylor Hebert who is most famous for taking the often mocked power of insect control to such ludicrous extents that any other bug controlling villain looks positively , getting the powers of a big dumb monster from Evolve and going rawr and smash. I think it was cos it was the done thing at the time, cos I'd not written any fic before, and cos I liked Evolve. I've gone back and forth over the years but I think just smooshing Worm and another powerset you like or think might be fun to write is an over saturated market but its a market that exists. A bit after that and a few embarassing rewrites or other attempts at the same sort of thing, and one hit that I kinda just kept making after people seemed to like it, and I ended up making DADA, a parody of Worm fics in the style of the usual kind of crack fic where nonsense is substituted for plot and its more about jokes than saying much. There were a couple of jokes about trends in the wider Worm fandom but the main selling point is that Taylor's power is ill defined and never elaborated upon much, and that her costume is a papier mache version of her own face.

Like so. I fuckin love this pic, credit to Pericardium who drew this after I'd sorta given up after one arc, leaving all the notes for future chapters and where to take the story as one ugly ill put together mess of a final chapter. For the longest while, this picture was the last thing left of DADA if you clicked past that ending. And it still sorta is. This is the face of DADA. Most common thing anyone said was "Why does it look like that" or talking about how it startled them scrolling across the banner on r/wormfanfic. Peri got this down perfectly, a portrait not of Taylor Hebert but of the lumpy doll fanfic likes to make of her. I made a stupid mistake a few years down the line. I decided to keep writing DADA. Like a zombie limping back to life, or a Rob Zombie limping a franchise back to life, DADA returned with plans and aspirations and ideas for a new ending and went from a brief read it over a cup of tea fic to something that had to commit to its jokey bits, something trying to be more meta than it ought to have been and barely communicating itself well. So it died again with a new ending written out same way as it was last time, in crumbs and snippets and morsels. DADA is a curse of mine that limps back to life whenever I have a new silly idea for it. Its a world that runs on wordplay and Amelia Bodelia logic and entertains cartoonish misconceptions of how people's superpowers work. (Where notorious villain Jack Slash can project the cuts of his knives to strike from extended distances, the Jack Slash of DADA makes his knives shrink and grow to physically extend as far as he is reaching with them) Its a world where villains from my other fanfics have invaded it as a superfluous additional set of antagonists. So yeah, here's DADA, its a bit impermeable without exposure to fandom memes and it changes its mind on what it is constantly throughout, but my fiance likes it so I'm gonna keep updating it as long as I have ideas on where to take it. Taylor is dead, wormfic above all.

[kimmberleeex]

“I’ll Never Let You Go”

NSFW 18+, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A MINOR.

TW: smut content, strong language (cunt is used), use of drugs/alcohol, and sensitive topic of self harm and physical abuse, oral (f+m), sex, etc.

** For the reader: The title is based off of a song that came out in 1990 called (you guessed it) “I’ll Never Let You Go” by Steelheart. This is also heavily inspired by an amazing fic written by the talented @unsolved-duvall , go read hers here.

** ALSO, this is fem reader x rockstar Eddie, and the POV switches back and forth between the two. I’ll leave Eddie’s white and the font will be pink for the readers. 🖤 hope you guys enjoy!

.

.

.

It was 1990, it had been a fucking wild 4 years since Eddie barely graduated high school. Corroded Coffin blew up on the scene, hot and fast, sometimes it still felt like a complete whirlwind. After two sold out tours, a couple records, and some awards later, Eddie felt tired. The crazy lifestyle that he always dreamt about had seemingly become mundane. It was always the same cycle, tour for months at a time, a sold out show every night, the after parties every night, fucking some random groupie — or sometimes a couple if he had the energy. He never realized it would start to feel dull at some point.

Eddie was staring off into his dressing room mirror — it wasn’t that he was full of himself, though his cocky attitude would make you feel differently about him, he was just zoning out while lost in thought. Bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips, he takes a long drag of it. The smoke hugging his lungs while that familiar burning sensation hit the back of his throat, providing that fix of nicotine with a little bit of pain that he desperately needed. A stage manager popped his head in the room, his nasally voice pulling him out of his thoughts but not enough to give the man his full attention.

“5 minutes, Eddie. Then we need you backstage.” Without turning his head towards him, Eddie nonchalantly waves the short man off. The jewelry that dangled off of his wrists jingles slightly at the quick flick of his hand. He takes another long drag of his smoke before smashing the butt into an overfilled ashtray. With a long sigh, he slowly exhales the smoke and watches it swirl around him.

Eddie leans forward over a mirror that sat on the vanity’s counter, staring into his blown out chocolate brown eyes. Almost disappointed with himself as he snorted the white powder that he had already lined up through a little straw. The entire line disappeared as he moved across the reflective surface. Immediately he felt the drugs entering his system, tilting his head back, with a finger pushed up to his nose as the drainage went down his nasal cavity and numbed his throat.

Leaning back in his chair with a cough to clear his throat, he looked under the vanity counter. He gently taps on the back of some blonde girls head. “C’mon, doll. Time’s up.” He sounded uninterested, almost bored. The blonde slowly crawled out from under the counter, Eddie at least held his hand out for her to hold onto while she climbed up to her feet. His other hand already stuffing his half-hard dick back into his tattered jeans.

The girl was just some groupie he happened to pick that was hanging around out back, hoping to get a chance with him. She was pretty enough and was easily throwing herself at him. But he was just bored of the same thing — a desperate girl that hoped she could make him fall in love, or at the very least fuck him and sell the story to the tabloids. He was barely able to stay hard while she desperately tried to suck him off for the last twenty minutes.

She looked defeated and embarrassed, Eddie almost felt pity for her, almost. He pursed his lips together tightly as she stuck around longer than she should have, a look of hesitation and the need to say something on her face. He had an expectant look on his face that said she needed to go. And as if on cue, the head of Eddie’s security, Tommy, came into the room to escort her back to the venue.

He didn’t even look at her as she left, it was just easier that way. Hard to feel bad for the girls he used if he just didn’t pay attention to them and saw them for what they were — a one time, casual fuck. Eddie picked up a whiskey glass that was halfway full of Jack Daniel’s, swirling it around — the alcohol sloshing around the glass’s rim before he shot it down his throat. The alcohol burning the back of his esophagus, making Eddie click his tongue off of the roof of his mouth and exhale hard, his breath hot as hell from the liquor. It felt almost ritualistic at this point.

He rolled his neck, his stiff bones cracking before he rotated his shoulders trying to soothe his sore muscles. After four years of performing nearly every night, you’d think Eddie wouldn’t be nervous but as he pushed himself out of the chair and jumped up and down to get his blood pumping. He was shaking out his arms trying to steel his nerves.

The stage manager comes back, knocking a little more hurriedly before poking his head back in. “Eddie! Now, c’mon!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” He mumbles under his breath, he follows after the short man as he talks into the headset that rested over his ear.

“I got him, heading backstage now.” The man sounded overly confident, smug. A little man with a little power. Eddie rolled his eyes in annoyance, always being one to defy anyone with an ounce of authority. Balling his fists up into his leather jacket pockets as he continued to follow him backstage where his other bandmates were getting geared up.

Gareth was twirling his drumsticks in between his fingers, hyping himself up. Jeff was standing with a sound tech making sure his bass was in tune as he slings the strap over his shoulder. Another sound tech approaches Eddie with his pride and joy, his Sweetheart. As always, it’s one of the rare times that Eddie’s seemingly permanent scowl softens into a warm smile. Like seeing a loved one after a long absence.

When Eddie puts the familiar, worn-out guitar strap around his neck, it’s like something in him transforms. No longer was he Eddie the Freak of his former past with a giant ball of anger in the pit of his stomach. No, when he put his baby around his neck, he becomes Eddie fucking Munson — rock god. And his ego was as big as his asshole attitude that came with it.

The excited chatter of the crowd filled the arena, Eddie could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. The overhead lights dimmed in the venue, there was a split second of silence followed by an uproar of screams and applause. Eddie’s heart thundered in his ears in anticipation as he watched his bandmates start onstage, waving to the crowd as they increasingly lost their minds.

Eddie looked up into the rafters as he let out a slow exhale. Finding the nerve to walk out onto the stage, he had a look of steel determination on his face. Once he emerges from backstage, the crowd absolutely loses their shit, the girls going absolutely feral. Without hesitation, Eddie struts to the microphone before letting the first notes of their opening song shred up and down his fretboard. His fingers moving up and down with such ease as he gets lost in the music.

Song after song, the crowd was going wild and was just full of energy. As big of an asshole as Eddie was famed to be, his heart had such a soft spot for those moments on stage that he saw the fans respond so well to his music. In between songs, he could be caught looking down and smiling at his feet. The next song they played was the most sexual song they had to date, the girls always lost their minds — and usually their panties when they’d toss ‘em on stage.

As the panties start flying, Eddie scanned the crowd, smirking at all the girls pushing their way to the front just to get a chance to be seen and gift him their delicates. That’s when his eyes fell on you. There was something about you that captured his attention, even causing him to tilt his head with curiosity. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It almost, almost made him stutter in his performance. However, he was able to save it with no one else noticing. This intrigued Eddie deeply because no girl has ever made him feel like that. He just saw them as fuck toys, just a tool to get off with. Then he’d discard them just as soon as he picked them up. It was easier that way, and he decided that he would do the same with you.

After the song ended, in the silence of getting set up for the next one, Eddie walked over to Tommy who was positioned at the side stage. He points you out and tells him to get you to come backstage afterwards. This wasn’t a totally uncommon request, Eddie would usually just pick one of the groupies already waiting out back that was dying for a chance to get with him or any member of the band if they weren’t what Eddie wanted.

But there was just something that was captivating Eddie’s attention, his eyes kept wandering to you through out the last two songs that they played. As the reverb from the last notes came to a stop, the lights went dark so they could walk off stage. The venue lights turning back on so the crowd could begin their exit.

Eddie went straight to his dressing room, plopping down in his chair. His sweat soaked hair clung to his face, he leaned down and ran the straw over another line of white powder, inhaling it down and leaning his head back a moment to let it seep into his system. Then poured himself some Jack, began swirling it around while trying to appear nonchalant as he awaited for the girl who caught his eye, even though his entire body was buzzing with excitement for the first time in years.

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Every nerve ending of yours was buzzing with excitement as you got ready for the Corroded Coffin concert. Saving up for months so that you could afford a ticket while working your ass off at a shitty bar waiting tables. Where the men would try to grab your ass, or take you home at the end of every night. Always providing unwanted attention that made your skin crawl.

But this was your birthday present to yourself, you were finally going to see your favorite band. You had moved to NYC a year ago to try and kickstart your aspiring acting career. You were virtually all alone, your only ‘family’ was not supportive of your aspirations. Which gave you the mentality of: “fuck it. I’ll do it my damn self,” with a big middle finger to the universe as you chased your dreams.

Being such a stubborn person with a firecracker attitude was something that you both loved and hated that was inherited from your ‘father’, if you could call him that. You always called him a glorified sperm donor since he never did much to raise you and he drove your mother away when you were a child. He was a drinker and always took the anger that your mother had left him with, out on you.

“Never gonna amount to shit. Running away , just like your bitch of a mother. Good fucking riddance. Won’t be here when you fall flat on your stupid face.” Those were the words that your father left you with before he slammed the door in your face. They were echoing through out your thoughts as you zoned out in the mirror. You shake the parasitic thoughts out of your head as soon as they entered. Feeling determined to have a good time for your birthday, and not wanting to let your daddy issues ruin what you worked so hard for.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you smoothed your hands over your frayed jean skirt, the Corroded Coffin tee that you cropped was hanging off of your shoulders — your midriff also showing, fishnet tights on your legs and a pair of black Doc Martens on your feet. Your eye make up was dark, a hoop nose ring in, your hair teased and messy. Wearing a variety of punk bracelets to cover over up old scars. You looked like you were straight out a Hot Topic catalogue.

It wasn’t that you were necessarily trying to get Eddie’s attention, since his reputation was rather…scandalous. Tabloids always having a field day with all of his rude and crude behavior. You didn’t dress to impress him, it was delusional to think he would pay any attention to you — there would be a thousand girls there. It was just your birthday and you wanted to feel hot, which you did.

Later, after you finally got to the venue, you saw a variety of girls hanging around at the back of it hoping to get picked up by any of the band members, a habit they were most notoriously known for — they loved using and abusing their groupies.

Sighing softly to yourself as you wondered what it must be like. Clenching your thighs together when you imagined Eddie’s hands roaming over your skin. Picturing his ringed fingers creeping up your thighs…then quickly, you shake the thought out of your head.

Once the show started, you began making your way through the wall to wall crowd. Your tiny frame snaking through people, determined that you were going to get to the front. Eventually breaking through to the barricade, you held on for dear life as the crowd pushed and pulled during the crazy energy of the show.

Seeing Eddie up close in person was awe inspiring, you were unsure how he could be even that more beautiful in person. Still, you screamed along to every song. Letting the music take over and putting every ounce of your feelings into it. It was…therapeutic — just what you needed for your birthday.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Surely you were imagining it, right? No, you weren’t because he was starting at you again. When the lights dimmed after the song that just drove the girls absolutely bat shit insane, you could see his silhouette walking over to the side stage. He knelt down and was talking to someone before going back to his place in center stage.

When the lights came back up, his eyes were still on you. A seemingly curious smile on his face, it made your heart absolutely palpitate. And yet, you stood there and remained so calm on the outside. He held your gaze for a long time, it felt like a staring contest and yet it didn’t hinder Eddie from playing the next song.

A tall burly man, clearly a security person, pulled you out of the hypnotizing stare of Eddie. He was bald, with a thick, close-cut beard that was neatly trimmed in place. A rough hand waving in front of your face to get your attention as he leans close enough for you to hear him speak. He smelled like cigarettes and a really musky cologne, with spearmint gum on his breath. “Eddie wants you to come backstage after the show. So wait here when it’s done, I’ll come get you.” His voice was gruff, one of the deepest you had ever heard.

It takes a minute to register what the man was saying, blinking a few times with a head shake. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, he looks annoyed as he waits for some signal of understanding. Slowly you just nod your head a couple times and the man returns to his former post. Eddie notices your reaction and smirks as he looks away, surely pleased to know he has an effect on you.

When the lights went out at the end of the last song, your heart was racing. Eddie fucking Munson handpicked you out of the crowd? Your nails were digging into your palms trying to provide just an ounce of pain to see if you were truly dreaming. Wincing slightly when you realized this was your reality. The lights came back up, taking a shaky breath to try and steel your nerves once the burly man is approaching you again.

Without even asking, he has a hand out and ready to help you over but you shake your head at him. Leaning your back against the barricade, you rest your palms on the edge of it on your sides, lifting yourself up with a nervous tremble in your arms. Sitting your butt on the metal fence, the man puts a hand on your back just in case he has to catch you as you delicately swing your legs over and hop down. Pulling at your denim skirt that rose a little after getting caught on the fence.

The man had a stoic face now that you could see him in the light, he never cracked a smile or really spoke to you as he leads you through the dimly lit hallways backstage. Trying to keep pace with his long strides, you’re practically jogging just to keep from getting lost. The crew and roadies were hustling backstage to tear down the equipment and get it packed up for the next show tomorrow. You get so busy looking around at everything that once the security guard stops abruptly at a door, you run into his back — it felt like hitting a brick wall.

Laughing nervously, your cheeks flushed as you apologize so meekly. He just rolls his eyes and opens the door for you, making a gesture for you to go inside. Once you turn to face the open door, you see Eddie sitting there. His leg is crossed over his other knee, his legs spread wide apart. A glass of what appeared to be whiskey rested with his ring-clad hand around it on top of the knee that was crossed. He didn’t say anything to you, his dark chocolate eyes just raking over your body.

This interaction only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. Somehow you found the courage deep within your gut and forced yourself to walk forward into the room. Feeling like a bad dream with the way your feet felt so heavy, like trying to navigate through quicksand.

The door was closed after you cleared the doorway, gulping nervously as you stood off to the side. Eddie didn’t say anything as his eyes followed you curiously. Deciding to break the awkward silence you were feeling, chirping up, your voice cracking from nervousness. “So…”

Feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks, all the way to the tips of your ears. A small smirk played on Eddie’s lips, he seemed…amused. His lips parted as he took a drink of his whiskey. His nose scrunched up when the alcohol hit his throat.

Clearing your throat as you look down at your feet, trying to avoid his intense gaze. Your hands fidget with the fraying end of your jean skirt before you continue. “You, uh, wanted to see me?”

Eddie slowly turns his head to the side to look at you, seemingly confused by your question. “Do you really not know why you’re here, sweetheart?” Pushing himself out of the chair and setting his glass on his vanity as he stands. In a couple of strides, he closes the distance between you. Subconsciously you lean against the wall that you’re standing next to as he approaches you.

When he’s right in front of you, he pushes a strand of hair that that was falling in front of your face behind your ear. He was almost…gentle. Nothing like any of the tabloids described him by the people that sold their stories. His blown out eyes softened as he inspected your face. When you don’t answer him, he knits his eyebrows together, pursing a tight lip. “Exactly, how old are you, doll?” Another pet name, it made you rub your thighs together without thinking about it.

Your breath had hitched in your throat at his closeness, he smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and a mesmerizing cologne. He was so much prettier this close — and so much taller, he practically towered you. The way a splatter of freckles ran across his nose and cheeks. The dimple of his smile. The stubble on his face that ran along his deliciously sharp jawline. Surely he saw how fucking pink you were turning being so close to him, it was embarrassing to you, but it was pretty endearing to Eddie.

Finding the courage to speak, but speaking softly while trying to remain calm. He made you so nervous. “T-twenty-two, shit. I mean, I just turned twenty-three today.” A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s face, his dimple becoming even more defined. His smile was beautiful, he rarely smiled in photos or interviews. Everyone always saying he was the biggest dickhead to work and interact with, but here he was being almost sweet to you. He was making it hard not to just fall in love with him.

“It’s your birthday today, sweetheart?” He brushes his hand through your hair , his nails lightly scraping against your scalp. Not really trusting yourself to speak, you nod your head. He walks back to his vanity, pouring more Jack Daniel’s into his glass. “Suppose we should properly celebrate. Fuck you senseless for your birthday, baby. That sound good?” Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, even after reading the tabloids you were still in shock that he wanted you.

A small chuckle escapes his lips as he notices your reaction. “C’mon, sweet girl. You have to know why I asked you to come.” He walks back towards you, taking a swig of his whiskey. The gleam in his eye was devilish as his hand grips your cheeks, parting your lips for him. Your innocent eyes looked up at him under your lashes. An increasingly wicked look flashes across his darkened eyes. Leaning his face down towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours as he lets the whiskey that filled his cheeks trickle into your mouth.

There was something so erotic about it, you hated whiskey but still you swallowed it, with a scrunch of your nose. It made him chuckle softly as he leaned in, gently meshing his lips with yours. They were soft, his tongue parts his lips and traces the seam of yours before slipping into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. A small mewl escapes your throat, which causes Eddie to groan into your mouth as his tongue continued to explore every inch. His hand resting on the side of your neck, his thumb gently caressing the column of your throat — feeling your racing heart in your pulse point.

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Eddie hasn’t been this excited by any of the girls he’s picked, it was not normal — but he couldn’t stop himself. The noises you made were driving him crazy. He began kissing down your neck, hitting a sweet spot on your pulse point. Feeling your heart race a little faster and the prettiest fucking moan he had ever heard when his tongue ran over it.

Murmuring over your skin, his hips pressed into yours as his hands rested at the exposed skin of your midriff, his thumbs rubbing just above the hem of your skirt. “Goddamnit, baby. I’ve barely touched you and you’re making such pretty fucking noises.”

A light knocking on the door interrupts them, causing a low growl from the back of Eddie’s throat. “Ed, car’s ready.” The muffled sound of Tommy’s voice on the other side of the door, he knew not to enter when he requested a girl to his back room. He had learned the hard way back on their first tour. Eddie chuckled softly at the memory , his dark brown eyes boring into your deep blue ones.

Reluctantly he pulls away from you, causing a soft whimper from you. Eddie’s muscles tighten at the sound, fighting the urge not to just ravage you there. Normally, he’d be done with you by now. Most girls flung themselves at him, it intrigued him that you didn’t. It helped that you were probably the most beautiful creature that he’d ever laid his eyes on, but it made him want to really take his time with you.

He walks over to the chair that his leather jacket was resting on the back of, shoving his arms into it as he gathers the Jack and his smokes, shoving those into his pocket. He heads to the door and looks at you expectantly, a little surprised you weren’t already following him. “You coming, doll?”

He watched your nervous fidgeting, watched how your thighs rubbed together. It made him smile knowing the effect he was having on you, already imagining how you tasted. He walks back over, snaking his arm around your waist — smirking when you inhale sharply. “I’m inviting you back to my hotel, sweetheart. Now, you can say no. But I’m just trying to help celebrate your birthday with you. Would you like that?”

When you don’t answer right away, Eddie’s tone changes from playful to annoyed and serious. “C’mon, babydoll. Use your pretty mouth and gimme words. I can’t just assume. Do you want to come or not?” His stern look made you swallow hard, he liked that.

Seeing you nod your head, he gives a look that causes you to squeak out. “Y-yes. I would like to go back to your hotel with you.”

It was so easy to make you blush, it made Eddie’s chest feel warm. Something else he’s never experienced, but he couldn’t fight this urge that he had to be near you. When he opened the door and lead you out with his hand on the small of your back, Tommy gives him a weird look. Because he knew this is normally where he parted ways with the girls. Eddie just held his hand up in a non-verbal way of telling him to drop it.

Tommy just huffs under his breath, turning on his heels as he mumbles into the earpiece that he had in. “Got him, he’s bringing company.” It made Eddie’s eyes roll. It couldn’t be that surprising that he would do this. He could already hear the lecture he was gonna get from Tommy in a few hours after the girl leaves.

He watches your face carefully, unable to determine if you’re regretting your decision yet. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he knits his eyebrows together, asking himself why the hell he cares. But there was this gnawing feeling there and it was starting to freak him out.

Once he helps you climb into the back of the private town car, he climbs in beside of you — looking over to your face. Noticing that you let out a shaky breath, he grabs a hand that was sitting in your lap. It captures your attention, your innocent eyes looking up at Eddie. Softly he asks, “Are you okay with this? Honestly. If you say no, I wouldn’t be mad. Surprised, but not mad.”

Watching you nod your head, he goes to remind you about using your words, but you put a hand up in protest. “I am fine, yes. I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t. I’m just…nervous. You make me nervous.”

This causes Eddie to tilt his head to the side, a small smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. He found it adorable how fast you were talking and the fact that he made you nervous was endearing. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, a feeble attempt at reassuring you. This was something he wasn’t used to, completely outside of his normal comfort zone.

“It’s okay to be nervous, doll. But I promise, I’m only going to make you feel good. Celebrate your birthday, make it one to remember. Alright? Just relax, I got you, baby.” His free hand moved up to your cheek, bringing your face to his as he placed a soft kiss at first. He began slowly deepening the kiss as if to not rush you.

The soft moans that emitted from your throat were ready to drive Eddie absolutely fucking mad. His hardening cock straining against his already tight jeans. A groan that was low and deep came from his throat as he continued to explore your mouth, his hand was sliding up your thigh. Resting on the inside of your soft, supple skin, his fingers were gripping so tight it would surely leave bruises in the morning.

Just when Eddie was ready to tear your clothes off, the town car comes to a stop in front of the hotel. Immediately, he pulls away from you as if nothing happened. A soft chuckle escapes his lips when he sees how worked up you are, a wild look in your eye as you try to catch your breath.

The driver opens the door for Eddie, he steps out and holding his hand out for you to use as you climbed out of the backseat. Tommy was at his side immediately and escorted the two of you through the hotel lobby, made sure the elevator was clear. Tommy leans in to Eddie whispering softly, “Same time as usual, boss?”

Eddie just does a singular firm nod of his head before stepping into the elevator behind you. Once the doors close, he pushes you against the elevator wall. His hand sliding up in between your thighs as his mouth was nibbling and sucking on every sweet spot on your neck. Taking mental notes on which spots made the prettiest noises.

Once the elevator dings, Eddie grips you by the ass as he picks you up into his arms. Your legs wrapping around his waist, he carried you down a long hallway, decorated nicer than anything the both of you had ever had growing up. But Eddie was too busy kissing you as he shoved you into his rooms door, fumbling with it to get the damn thing open.

That’s when you giggled, it made Eddie’s chest radiate with such warmth. It was like music to his ears, he cursed under his breath with a smile as he finally got the door open. Immediately, he takes you to his bed and sets you on the edge. Looking down at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Eddie inspects you, your blue eyes with flecks of emerald green speckled through out the irises. The hint of freckles over the bridge of your nose. A plump bottom lip that was kiss-bitten, but you were chewing on it nervously. He reaches over and pushes back a stray curl that fell in front of your face, gingerly tucking it behind your ear.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

Your eyes move up to meet his, blinking away whatever you were thinking about. “Just, uh, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.” A nervous chuckle unwillingly escapes your lips.

Eddie’s posture straightens, his own laughter emitting from deep within his chest. He walks over to the bar set up in the corner of the lavish hotel room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Did you want me to be what the tabloids say I am? Hmm? Is that what you want for your birthday?” He takes a sip of the Jack, his chocolate eyes — that were just a hue darker than the whiskey, were peering over the rim of the glass at you.

He watches as you shift on the bed, your thighs clenching together before standing up and nervously walking over to you. “I just want you, honestly.” Noticing the sincerity in your voice, he searches your gorgeous eyes for any sign of deception.

“You just want me?” His voice is soft, but there’s an incredulous tone to it. Shifting his gaze away for a moment before returning back to you, he holds the glass of Jack up to your lips. “Drink.” He commands as he tilts the cup upwards, letting it spill into your mouth. It’s cold from the ice, but the alcohol burns your throat. He lets you finish the rest of the glass, a grin turning up the corners of his lips. “Good girl,” he praises.

A little whimper escapes your lips at his praise, it makes Eddie’s eyebrow quirk up into his curls. “God, you make such pretty noises.” His fingers delicately brush up the inside of your thigh, inching closer to your already aching core. “I haven’t even really touched you, yet.”

A wicked smile pulls at his mouth as he watches the soft gasp come out of you as he gets closer. Feeling the heat radiating from your core already, he presses firmly against the already dampened panties. A low groan comes from his throat as he rubs a firm circle around your clothed swollen bud. He watches you moan softly, noticing how your knees are already shaking. So, he snakes his arm around your waist to keep you upright as he continues to tease you through your panties.

“Already so wet for me, hm? So eager, doll face?” He peppers kisses along your neck, remembering the sweet spots that make you a whimpering mess especially combined with his relentless over the underwear teasing.

Nibbling on one of the sweet spots on your neck and sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, it causes your knees to buckle and fall into him. Eddie just chuckles darkly against your neck, picking you up and setting you on the edge of the bed. “So responsive.” He murmurs as he begins to undress you. His hands sliding over your skin as he pulls your crop top off of you, revealing a black lacy push up bra. His eyebrows quirk up at the delicious sight of you, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Delicately he unbuttons your jean skirt, tugging down on it. “Need you to lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

Falling back onto the plush bed and lifting your hips so that Eddie can pull your skirt down, his fingers grazing over your skin as he does so. His hands quickly untie your shoes then pull them off. Bringing your ankle up to his lips as he kisses softly, hearing the small gasp from you made his cock twitch. His calloused, strong hands rubbed up your calves through the fishnet stockings as he slowly spread your legs apart. The thin black lacy panties already damp with the slick of your arousal, with help of the added teasing from his fingers.

His eyes scanned over your body, admiring your beautiful form. “So pretty…” he murmured quietly, hoping you didn’t hear him. Your eyes met with his, making his heart clench. Stuffing that feeling down, he hooks his fingers into your tights and panties, pulling them down slowly. As your smooth, slick pussy is revealed to him, it causes a low growl to form in the back of his throat.

“Fucking hell…” he mumbles as he places wet kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Gotta taste that pretty pussy, baby.” He nibbles the sensitive skin, causing you to jump away from him and moan softly. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he drags you to the edge of the bed. “Don’t run away from me. Gonna make you feel so good, pretty.” He continues to nibble on the inside of your thighs and immediately soothes the sensitive flesh with kisses, running his tongue over your bitten skin.

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Eddie’s mouth was all over every inch of your inner thigh and it was driving you absolutely wild. He’d find a sweet spot that caused you to moan a particular way and he would spend extra time on it. His strong arms hooked around your thighs and resting on your hips, keeping you in place for him. Slowly he inched up to your aching pussy, already dripping with your essence and you could feel yourself clenching at nothing. Feeling desperate to be filled with anything he had to offer at this point.

Unable to meet his gaze, you closed your eyes when he was almost to your wet cunt. That’s when Eddie’s rough voice broke through your concentration. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” The pet names were causing a flutter in your tummy that you didn’t like. It was going to make it that much harder when you inevitably had to leave. When you don’t listen right away, Eddie huffs in annoyance as he climbs up your body until he has a hand resting next to your head — keeping his body hovering above you.

“What the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He asked curiously, but there was a hint of aggravation. It made you shrink at the thought that you were annoying him with being so fucking nervous. He was probably used to being done by now with girls, and here you were — can’t even get out of your head for a second long enough to fuck the hottest guy on the planet right now.

Chewing your bottom lip as forces you to meet his gaze with his other hand on your face. “Can I ask you something?” You nervously ask.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, he was still clothed while you were only wearing a bra and the jewelry on your wrists. It made you feel extremely vulnerable. So when you sat up with him, you hugged your arms around yourself — trying to hide yourself as much as possible.

He had his head tilted to the side, waiting for this question. “Please don’t hate me when I ask you this, but what made you pick me?” Your voice was soft, insecure sounding as you shuddered internally at how fucking cringy you felt for asking that.

Eddie’s eyes softened, his fingers delicately brushing your hair off of your shoulder before he leaned in to kiss it gently. “Because you seemed different. And then I met you, and realized that was definitely true.” He chuckled, making a lump form in your throat. “Different is good, baby. Promise.” He places a couple more kisses along your collarbone and your arms begin to loosen around yourself. He murmurs along your skin. “Tell me your name.” It wasn’t a question, it was more of a gentle command.

“I-It’s Y/N.” You practically whisper to him.

“Y/N,” he echoes softly. “That’s a pretty name.”

Turning your head to look at him, seeing him be so soft and gentle with you. Where was the asshole that everyone claimed him to be? Is this what he did with other girls? Or were you truly different?

Eddie’s eyes had dropped to your arms that were now in your lap. Gingerly, he picks one up and adjusts the bracelets off of your wrists. Quickly, you try to yank your arm back from him but his grip is stronger than yours. His fingers trace over the scars etched into your skin. Old burn marks from your ‘father’ when he was on a rage-filled bender — putting his cigarettes out on you when you cried for your mom, and a few self inflicted ones. Wincing at the memories, Eddie brings your wrist up to his face, kissing the scars so sweetly it made your stomach flip.

His eyes were sad, which you hated. This is why you kept them covered up, it was the exact look that Eddie had on his face right now. It made you want to run. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” His eyes meet yours, a gentle understanding in them that you didn’t expect to see.

He stood up and in one fell swoop, pulled his shirt off of his body. His torso was toned, littered with tattoos and some chest hair. Then he knelt down at your feet again, he held his hair out of the way as he showed you old cigarette burn scars. Something apparently the two of you had in common.

The tabloids assumed Eddie had a tragic backstory, as most musicians in the metal industry do, but whenever he was asked he would never give an answer — or he’d bullshit around it to change the subject.

“Seems we might not be that different.” He said softly.

Leaning down, offering him the same gentle kindness, you place a soft kiss over the scars. That’s when Eddie gently pushes you away, trying to distance himself again.

Hooking his arms around your thighs again, instead of taking his time with kisses, he just dives in to your wet heat. This was his way of changing the subject. A groan leaves his throat as he tastes your sweet nectar, his tongue diving in and curling up between your wet folds.

The sensation is almost shell shocking as you just lean back onto your elbows and try to adjust to them. He spreads your thighs further apart, shaking his head back and forth a little, his nose rubbing across your swollen clit as he does so. The moans that were leaving your mouth, you had no idea you were capable of making.

Eddie stares up at you with half-lidded eyes, his tongue drags up your wet slit before his lips engulf your swollen bud into his mouth. He sucks on it as his tongue deliberately swirls around it. Making pleased noises as he felt your hips try to buck up against him. Feeling his middle finger rub up and down your slit, gathering the juices on the pad of it before he slowly slides it into you. Inching it to allow your tightness to get used to his thick digit. He groaned against your cunt as he surely was imagining it wrapped around his cock.

Pulling back just slight enough to speak, his voice rough with desire. His finger slowly sliding in and out of you, but you whimper at the loss of his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart.” Your pussy clenching around his finger at the pet name, he groans louder. “So fucking tight.” His finger curls up against the spot that not even you can reach, causing you to practically see stars. The moan that you let out impressed even you, but you couldn’t even help it if you tried. “Make the prettiest fucking noises f’me, fuck.” His thumb was rubbing circles around your clit as he kissed the inside of your thigh. The cool metal of his rings brush up against your heated core, reminding and confirming that he keeps them on.

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Eddie slid a second finger into your wet heat, allowing you to adjust to the added girth — preparing you for when you take him fully. Groaning against your thigh as he kissed and nibbled it, his middle and ring finger were curling and uncurling inside of you. Putting pressure on your sensitive g-spot as he slowly slid his slick covered fingers in and out. His thumb was still rolling around your swollen bundle of nerves.

He was admiring how pretty your pussy was as it clenched and sucked his fingers in. “Such a good girl. Making ya feel good, baby?” Eddie cooed as he watched your face, trying so hard to concentrate on forming a response, but your body writhed in pleasure and pretty moans came out instead.

He grinned against the supple, bruise bitten skin of your inner thighs as his fingers kept working their magic. Most girls didn’t get this fucked out until his dick was stretching them open. Eddie imagined how fucking hot it was going to be to see you react to his cock inside of you. The way your body was responding to him, he could feel you getting close.

Murmuring against your skin, encouraging you and coaching you through it — he could tell no one’s made you feel like this and it pleased him to know that he was your first. “C’mon, baby. Let go for me. Let me see that pretty pussy cum on my fingers.” Groaning against your skin with each and every pretty little whimper and moan that you made. He was fighting every one of his nerve endings not to sink his aching cock into you.

That’s when he feels your body letting go, your back arches as your hand finds his resting on your thigh, squeezing it hard as your orgasm rocks through you. The moans that were leaving your lips were unlike anything he’d ever heard before, he could feel his cock drooling with pre-cum in his tight pants. His fingers continue coaxing you through your high, your pussy clenching and unclenching as your essence was bubbling out and soaking his hand.

It was truly beautiful to watch and he was mesmerized, murmuring softly. “That’s my good girl.” Slowly he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper at the loss. A crooked grin flashes across Eddie’s face before his tongue lazily laps over your soaked folds. It causes you to jump with how sensitive you are now, but he just holds you in place as he cleans up all your sweet nectar like a man that was starved.

Once he was done, he stood up, towering over you as you laid there on the bed. Your blue eyes glazed over with a dumb grin on your face, Eddie grinned down at you. “Told you I was gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart.” His fingers ghosted over your skin before he was pulling you to your feet. Your legs were a little shaky, so he held you close. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie’s hands were roaming over your back, unhooking your bra and sliding it off of your shoulders. Revealing your perfectly sized, full and round breasts. He marveled as one of his hands roamed over the supple skin, pinching your pink nipple between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently. Your head falls into Eddie’s neck, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body.

When you don’t answer his question, Eddie pinches your teat a little harder. You inhale sharply as a painful mewl escapes your lips. “Gotta use your words, doll. Quit testing my patience.”

“F-feel really good, Eddie.” You whimper out.

He caresses your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Good girl.” He kisses your forehead softly, he pulls back to look at you. This behavior was unlike him, and it was as if he couldn’t help himself. What the hell was happening?

Deciding he’s getting too close to you, he guides you back to the bed. “Get on your knees, face down, doll.” His voice was rough, a lot less affectionate than it was just a moment ago.

As he watches you do as your told, he finally releases his aching cock from its denim prison. Groaning in satisfaction at the relief from it springing forward and at the sight of your perfectly rounded ass. His jeans pool at his feet and he kicks them off to the side, he walks over to you. Immediately his hands are roaming over your plump curves, cursing under his breath as he admires you. “So fuckin’ perfect, sweet girl.”

Eddie’s cock bobs up and back down as it twitches from his arousal, the tip of it shining with his pre-cum. He can’t remember the last time he was so excited to sink his cock into a girl. Sure, he wanted to get his rocks off. But here lately, it took everything in him just to stay hard most of the time because he was bored. For the first time in a long time, he was worried he would have to focus too hard on not cumming until you do.

A wicked grin forms on his face as he remembers something. “Almost forgot, birthday girl.” His hand slaps against the meat of your ass, but you don’t yelp — you moan for him. He groans as he squeezes your ass. A perfect pink handprint already etched into your tender skin. “Mm, birthday girl likes being spanked?” His hand clashes against your opposite cheek, another moan as you fist the bed sheets. Your aching core throbbing for him from the pain, he growls softly.

Aligning himself at your soaked entrance, he hears the little gasp that you try to muffle into the mattress when you feel his thickness. A grin forms on his face as he rubs your tender ass cheek. “Issokay babygirl, I’ll be real gentle at first. Just tell me if it hurts. Okay?” When you nod your head, he slowly begins sinking into your slick heat. Rocking his hips back and forth to slowly work his length in. Eddie lets out a low moan as he feels your pussy practically sucking him in and gripping him tight.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “So fucking tight. Taking my cock like such a good girl.” His hand smacks your tender cheek harder than before and he feels you tighten around him, Eddie grips your hips tightly. “S-shitshitshit, don’t do that baby girl. Want you to cum first.”

Eddie begins to piston his hips against your plump ass cheeks, the skin snapping as he collides with you. Going slowly at first so that he doesn’t lose his control, but then when you start making those pretty fucking noises — he almost loses it. He pulls out before slowly sliding back in, bottoming out each time he does so. The room is a symphony of both of your moans, Eddie’s grunts, and your whimpers.

His hand hooks around your waist, his fingers rubbing firm circles around your swollen clit, causing you to throb around Eddie’s aching cock. He moans softly as he continues to pump into you. “Mmf, that’s it sweetheart. Want you to cum on my cock. Let go, I got you…”

Feeling you get closer, he begins to thrust into you harder and faster. Chasing both of your highs as he continues to circle your clit with the pad of his calloused finger. His other hand is grips your hip tightly as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. Eddie can see your face turned to the side, your eyes closed in pleasure, mouth hanging open as you whimper and moan for him. Knuckles white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your body begins to quake, causing him to thrust faster. He can feel your pussy throbbing as your release squirts out all around his cock, soaking his pelvis and the hotel sheets below you. Eddie groans loudly as he can’t hold back anymore. With a final hard thrust, his cock pulses, his thick cum shoots out, covering your walls and filling you up. Eddie slowly thrusts into you, milking his cock as you both chase the highs and let it subside.

Your bodies are sweat slick and covered in both of your juices, Eddie tries to catch his breath as he slowly pulls his softening cock out of you. His eyes widen in surprise when he realizes that he forgot to put a condom on in all of his excitement.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath. His grip on your hips tighten as he realizes his mistake. “Stay put.” He mutters before he retreats to the bathroom, grabbing a warm, wet wash cloth. He tries his best to clean you up, cursing himself internally for being so careless.

Finally, you slump over onto the bed, exhausted and fucked out. Your eyes even more glazed over than before, a dumb grin still on your face. Eddie crawls over next to you, pulling you into his arms. His anger with himself for being so stupid melting away when he sees the smile on your face.

He sighs heavily, brushing your hair out of your face with his fingers. His voice is soft as he talks to you. “Sorry.”

You raise your head, your eyebrows knit it confusion. “For what?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I fucking forgot to put on a condom. And you’re so goddamned tight…I didn’t have time to pull out.” He muttered, his freckled cheeks turning pink.

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You hear the words, but they don’t register right away. Call it…shock. Your eyes widen and you blink it away. “What?”

Eddie’s palm drags down his face, he doesn’t say anything so that he can let the information sink in. “Eddie, seriously? You forgot to put a condom on?”

He uncovers his face, his eyes dark — worry lines already forming under them. “Don’t you think I know how stupid it was?”

His harsh tone stings, a lump forming in your throat. Sitting up, you stare at him bewildered that he’s taking this out on you. “Don’t take it out on me. It’s not like I’m the one that had any control over the matter.” Your eyes were welling up with tears, unable to control your feelings when you were upset was something you always hated yourself for.

Immediately, Eddie’s face softens and he sits up. Cradling your head between his palms as he kisses your forehead gingerly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Confusion sets in as he apologizes and becomes so gentle with you. “I-If you’re worried that I would run and sell my story to the tabloids, o-or try to exploit you for money for a baby that may or may not come about...you’re wrong. I would never…” your voice trails off, tears streaming down your face.

Eddie pulls you down into a warm embrace, letting you cry on his chest. His fingers raking through your long hair as he tries to comfort you. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply that. But please also see it from my point of view, Y/N.”

Yuck. He stopped using the pet names that you loved, and suddenly his lips saying your name left a sour taste in your mouth.

Internally, you were trying to prepare for the world of hurt that was about to be bestowed on you once you inevitably had to leave. Imagining that his lawyer would contact you down the line, or maybe even he’d have you sent home with a morning after pill so that he doesn’t have to deal with the future consequences. Silently cursing yourself for letting yourself fall for him, maybe he was the asshole like everyone said. How many girls went through exactly what you were feeling right now?

His arms squeezed tighter around you, his lips pressed into your hair. “Hey,” he says softly. “Stop overthinking. We will deal with whatever happens, together. Promise.”

Your heart flutters, his words seem genuine but you’re not entirely convinced. “Eddie…” you start. But then you’re rudely interrupted by a loud knocking on the suite door. Eddie groans softly, finding a pair of boxers and slipping them on before he goes to answer it.

Laying there in his bed and trying not to listen to what’s being said, scared of what he could be saying. You hear what sounds like Tommy’s muffled voice, him and Eddie getting into a pretty heated whispering match. And then all the sudden there’s a crash of commotion.

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When Eddie opened the door, Tommy was expecting you to be with him so that he could send you home in a taxi. A grave look on Eddie’s face concerns him. “Not done yet, boss? I can come back in an hour…”

“She’s staying the night.” Eddie calmly says.

Tommy’s eyebrow quirks up. “The night? Eddie, are you insane? What are you even thinking?”

Eddie sets his jaw, his eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I don’t pay you to fucking lecture me.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But the girl is fucking bad news.” Eddie’s jaw clenches, but Tommy continues anyways. “She could stalk you, get too attached, try to exploit you by poking a hole in a fucking condom. Use your damn head, Eddie.”

That’s when Eddie’s fist collides with Tommy’s jaw. He knocks him down, he looks up at Eddie confused. “What the hell has gotten into you man?” No longer whispering, he’s angry. “It’s just a fucking chick! No different than the last thousand you do this to.”

Eddie stood over Tommy, he was a life long friend of his. But in this moment, it didn’t matter — he was seeing red. His jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth ground together, his finger was shoved into his face. “Say another goddamn thing about her, and you’re fired. She is nothing like any of them. So, get used to fucking seeing her. Now get your ass up, and leave me the hell alone until tomorrow morning.”

With that, Eddie leaves him on the floor, slamming the door shut as he stalks off back to the bedroom. His anger melting the second his eyes land back on you, you’re covered by the bed sheets — wide eyed and likely frightened by the commotion. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile to disarm you.

“What happened?” A look of concern flashes on your face as you noticed his already bruised knuckles.

“Oh this? Nothing. Had to put Tommy in his place.” He waves it off and crawls back into bed, wrapping you into his arms. There’s a slight nervous stutter in his voice as he practically whispers to you. “S-so, I’m not good at this. At all. This isn’t normal for me. Can’t honestly say I’ve ever had an actual relationship, per se. And before you start , no this isn’t because I fucked up and didn’t use a rubber.”

His fingers are raking through your hair as he delicately talks to you, letting out a shaky sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. “From the moment my eyes landed on you, every one of my nerve endings has been…electric. I knew there was something different about you. Something I’ve never had before. And I’ve gotta say, doll, I’ve never felt this way. I’m not saying we have to jump into something and label it…but I would love to get to know you better. Take you on some dates. And if you’d do me the honor, I’d love to make you mine.”

Eddie could feel that his cheeks were on fire, if his hair wasn’t covering his ears, he was sure the tips of them would likely be a deep red. That’s when he felt your soft hand rest on his cheek and pull it back towards you. He saw the emotion welling in your waterline, his thumb brushed back and forth along your chin as he stared into those beautiful ocean pooled irises.

“I would like nothing more, Eddie.” Your smile was soft, warm — it made his heart melt.

There was a brief moment of silence before Eddie continued. “My mom always played music for me as a child, and the songs always had these beautiful depictions of love. She tried her best to describe it to me, but I was just a kid, ya know? But I think it’s all starting to make sense…” he whispered to you as his thumb brushed along your kiss-bitten lip.

With that, Eddie pulled your chin up to meet his lips with a soft kiss. Neither of you were perfect, you weren’t trying to be. But Eddie knew right then and there that he would do anything in his power to spend the rest of his life by your side. For the first time in his life, he felt confident that someone else would do the same.

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“You're a dream come true

Now I'm holding you

And I'll never, never let you go

I will never let you go!”

[vanillaxoxocore]

‘ WORSHIP IT JUST LIKE THAT !! ,

Douma. uppermoon 2 reacting to how one of his worshippers spoiling him.

> ⸝⸝﹒ warnings. . . explicit language, porn, rough sex, vaginal, gaping, aggressive sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, use of nick names, size kink, praise like, etc etc . . .

wc. 1.8k

douma gently pressed my head into the pillow and leaned in to murmur in my ear. "A couple more rounds, petal," he said, but it was a phony and hollow vow.

When my body finally loses up on keeping him out, he presses additional weight down onto me while I struggle and writhe, my loud cries going unheard as he feels himself seeping deeper. My stomach hurts as his tip contacts my cervix and then pushes further, smashing it up. He pushes and stretches me open to forcibly fit himself, bullying me while he forces his cock into me like a piece that doesn't quite fit.

My crazy voice made him giggle as I garbled my words, "I'm sorry—Lord douma please, I'm sorry." Sincerely delighted by my meandering, "Petal, why are you sorry?” His voice was low, just above a whipser, nonetheless. “I'm not upset.”

His cock sinks deeper as if to anchor me, pressing down on me even more. In this dark room, the colour of his wild, swirling eyes is almost blinding. "What is the sensation of having your Lord's cock deep within you?"

It's challenging to follow the my thoughts as it began to become fuzzy and mushy as he pulls himself from me, his fullness giving way to the sensation of every vein, ridge, and lump adorning his cock as he glides out. Then he slams into me again, driving his cock balls deep, leaving no trace of his cock visible.

As he starts to rut inside of me, he pushes in again, taking away my ability to think and breathe. He's so stuffed into me that I feel my cunt gape around him, and my jaw dangles widely open, "f-fuuuck,'s so huge. Stretching me so well, Lord douma, hngh," my legs shook as my body trembled and shuddered. With each thrust, my tits and the fat on my body bounce.

He proceeded to drive into me, ensuring that every inch of his cock was completely submerged in my cunt. His thrusts slowed, each one becoming more methodical and less violent. Douma pulled away, leaving me gasping for air and panting profusely. He flipped me over onto my stomach, allowing me time to recover.

Doumas' hands moved over my body, cupping and squeezing my breasts softly. His lips traced kisses down my spine, leaving a path of fire behind them. He lined his cock up with my entrance again, slowly pushing into me. He began to move steadily in and out of me, gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts.

"Shit, fuckin' me 's good, mnhp," I gasp as my eyes roll back. I push my hips further back into his waist. I let out a high-pitched moan, the loudest I've ever heard. Doumas' hips moved in an almost hypnotic cadence, and his cock glided in and out of my body with acute precision.

When I heard the door knock, my eyes widened and I moved my arm behind my back, pressing it against his thigh to signal him to stop moving. Doumas' thrusts ended in a low blow. As he looked at the door, he made a little noise and whispered, "huh?” . . . "Yes?" He speaks in a higher tone, "Lord Douma," the man said.

During the phrase, Douma looks back at me and leans down. He moves his hips away from my ass and buries his cock deep to the base. I appear like a doll in his hands, his cock expanding my stomach slightly as it twitches inside me. I yelp and let out a half-moan before Douma places his hand over my mouth, covering the lower part of my face, whole. “Shhhh”, he closes his eyes as his brows will draw down and together ever so slightly with a nervous smile.

His other hand moves close to his face, his index pointing up as it presses against his lips. “It’s rude to make noises when two people are talking”, he spoke in a low tone, barely above a whisper. "The followers are here." A voice echos at the other side the door from the same man.

"Tell them I'll be finished in a few. ‘m dealing with somethin’ else right now!" he said with a smile. How pleased he was. I lean forward, attempting to squirm free from his grasp.

"Girl, nuhuh. Get back here," he urges, as I lay flat on my stomach, his two large hands pressing into the small hump on my back. He presses my body onto his cock. I pushed it deeper into my tight, strained hole. I let out a strained sigh as his pelvis pressed against mine. As he stretched me even more. I could feel the intoxicating taste of saliva pooling in my mouth, eager to be released—his girth always left me speechless.

I was speechless till I could only utter crying whimpers. "Come on! Have more energy! It's not everyday you get dicked down like this for free by me; you’re going to have to take every inch," and he growls, cocking his forehead. As I’m simply stammering the same inaudible moans. He hits every point, and your thighs shake as his big dick jackhammers into every gummy orifice.

His grip my hips tighten as his nail dug into my flesh and pulled me closer to him. arching my back with pleasure and a hint of anguish. I maintained a steady rhythm while closing my eyes to focus on the sound of his cock sliding into my wetness. His member slammed against my sensitive regions, sending waves of pleasure and pain through my body.

I should and could have yelled as he thrust me till his dick was no longer visible. He hit the same spot maybe twice in a second with no buildup, but I ran out of energy. He immediately traded speed for power. I gave a meaningless, sexual wheeze.

He released one of my hands and grabbed my hair, gently pulling it to keep me in position. "That's right; take every inch of me. "I need to see how far I can go into that quivering pussy." His thrusts became faster and more violent, and he enjoyed the sensations.

"You're so tight, I can barely pull out, it’s like your cunt doesn’t want me to pull out!" He pounded me fiercely, and my moans filled the room. "Fuck, you feel so good around my cock." He begins to thrust faster, his hips crashing into my ass, my pussy taking up his full length. My body writhes beneath him, and my cries become increasingly urgent. I claws at the blankets, shredding the fabric.

He thrusts hard once he's certain his bond has been established, feeling me so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out nearly all the way. "It's like your little hole misses me already," he says, watching me flutter around his tip as if to tell him I don't want him to leave. "Tell me, petal," he slides back inside, startling me awake as I stare incredulously down at the point where you two link.

The slick sounds of him slipping into my sticky, wet, entrance haunt as i whine, my hands sinking into fine silk as i struggle to get away. "How does it feel to be fucked by your lord? Praise my cock and how good it’s making you feel." I gasp, pulling at the covers as he takes up.

I shudder, tearing at the covers as he quickens his tempo, balls slamming into my ass as he begins to actually fuck me. Huge cock working into a frenzy while I shriek. He gropes my breasts once more before pulling out. The sudden empty feeling made me whine, he grabs me by the hip and leg before pulling me down a bit, flipping me over onto my back.

I felt his cock enter gently, inch by sensational inch; the sensation of every vein and detail of his cock was incredible; a groan from my lips, my back arching slightly to ease it in, craving more of that feeling. He held my legs spread, seeing his cock disappear within my pussy and how I swallowed him in so hard that his eyes rolled back.

"You did it, pretty girl, look at you," he says, taking one hand off my hip to press on my belly, causing my eyes to widen and roll back as I whine. "You got every inch of me in this adorable cunt, didn't you? You're such a good girl, right?" I fake a nod, attempting to cope with the pain.

“I can’t take it no more, Lord douma-”, I groan in a high pitched voice.

I moan aloud, unable to endure the pressure on my abdomen anymore. I start clenching on his huge cock. Brushing my hair away from my face and grasping my jaw to catch my attention.

"Come on, i know you can, i know how good i make you feel." His comments drove me wild. Douma had me focus on him as he hammered into me. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull, and douma made my breathing even more limited. "You look so pretty with your eyes in the back of your head."

“I can't...”I take a whining breath and say, "I can’t handle it anymore, L-Lord douma, hngh" I moan loudly again, having never felt my g-spot struck at such a high rate of pressure, looking down to watch my stomach form a bump with every thrust. My mind was so overloaded that I gave up, My lips makes whatever sounds it has to, while my hands grasp his shoulders.

He licks his lips in satisfaction as he exclaims, "There's my pretty girl's face." Douma takes great joy in watching my eyes roll into the back of my skull when our bodies collided. When Douma feels me clench around him, he slows down.

how lewd he is,

"Hnnn," he grunts, picking up his pace and groaning. After what seems like an eternity, he suddenly becomes more jagged with his blows.

It comes out in slow, listless spurts, with Douma's eyes half-lidded and grumbling. I could almost hear him grumble as his fangs dug deep into my neck. A tongue of his tracks on my skin as he pours such large volumes into my womb. "Lordddd," I huffed. I was throbbing; everything felt so heated within. Feverish breaths aerate at the outer lobe of my ear before he nibbles on it, doing anything to distract himself from his sensitive state. "'s much, s’too much, Lord D-Douma"

"Keep it all in," he groans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. It's still trickling into the sticky walls, and I'm absorbing it all up. "hngh," he grumbles, silky gobbets of seed trickling into my clenched pussy. It's so sticky that the material sticks to his thighs when he attempts to pull himself out of me. Douma glances down with a lustful expression, seeing how the cum was dripping out.

[fellshish]

Aziraphale and Crowley during the final 15 are at an ideological impass and its really interesting character work! Aziraphale is going through a character arc. the character arc is not done yet. there's well-built conflict. so when people are like "omg aziraphale was drugged" im like no, this is a very clearly established character trait aziraphale has, he thinks heaven is the avenue for his plans but also is doing it out of love and protection for humanity. why on earth do you think he was drugged?

i guess, if you flanderize aziraphale to the point where his ONLY personality trait is being in love with Crowley, him doing something that isn't blushing at Crowley feels out of character/means he was drugged. but like, aziraphale is a character with traits or something and not a paper doll to just mash his lips against crowley's

Yes yes don’t get me wrong i do want them to smash lips together and i do think they hurt each other during the final fifteen but also i think they were both supremely in character and in line with the whole season and i feel weird about that being a… controversial opinion? Perhaps?

Everyone’s entitled to their own takes of course i don’t think i’m the One True Understander of canon or whatever but this ideological impass you speak of? Yes exactly that’s my jam and it’ll be interesting to see how s3 solves that

[shipstorms]

stalag arrival

The cart has been hobbling along for eons. 

Sometimes they hit a rock or other debris hard enough that Bucky's head bounces against the wood. He lets it happen, attempts to imitate the sounds of the other bodies he's been lumped in with. Pretty soon a sharp ringing takes up residence somewhere behind his left ear, clanging anew every so often like a tuning fork. 

He's waterlogged, barely conscious. A bloated, drowned doll dredged up from the bottom of a lake. But he's alive.

-

Back in Wisconsin, before flight school and this whole damn war, Bucky helped slaughter pigs on two occasions. The first time, the money he earned went straight to the dog track before it even had a chance to settle in his wallet, which is what led to the second and last time, wherein either the pig did something herky-jerky or maybe the angle was off, but in any case the spray of gore was truly godawful and he never went back.

The memory flickers to life in his mind without effort. Moreso triggered by the smell, or maybe the cold rubbery weight on his wrist that used to be someone's leg. A sourness has pooled into the back of his throat, threatening to overflow when the wagon jolts to a stop. He tries to breathe through it while the men speak.

Then the shovel whistles downward before coming to a sickening and sudden stop. 

He runs. Falls down. Runs again. Falls down again, this time into a hole that tunnels him into a neverending blackness until an insistent prodding lifts him out of the dark and a boot lodges underneath his chest to turn him over like an animal on a spit. 

He opens his eyes -- attempts to, anyway, but there's a fiery ball radiating behind his cheekbone, a universe of pain so shocking in intensity that he gags from it. 

Still alive, then.

-

They get him walking. He stumbles twice but claws himself back up, fingers curling through dead pine needles and soil, because fuck having their hands on him. Once he blacks out, though, he doesn't have much choice in the matter, and then he's being shoved into a car. Every time he comes to, he's in a different place, barely able to get situated before they're hauling him off somewhere else. 

The old Bucky would've made a bad joke here, probably. The imaginary POW Bucky sure would have; the one he conjured up after they sat through interrogation resistance training. Fellas, why don't you buy a guy dinner first before all this jerking around, huh? Clear-headed and wise-cracking, waggish even in the face of doom. 

This Bucky can hardly even string a thought together. This Bucky plods along in whatever direction he's pointed in, which is a miracle in and of itself, that his legs are still working. This Bucky only stays conscious long enough to arrive at a next place, and a next place, and a next place. 

Until Haussmann says Buck Cleven, and suddenly, just like that, the haze disappears. Clear as anything, Bucky imagines lunging over the desk and smashing Haussmann's face into the desk over and over. He could do some damage before any guards came in. He's sure of it.

Instead he states his own name. His serial number. Smokes a cigarette and repeats the information like he's supposed to.

They allow him to use the head. Some officer's, by the looks of it. There's even a sheet of metal tacked up on the wall through which Bucky is able to see himself somewhat clearly for the first time in a week. The reflection is unfamiliar enough that he actually touches his fingers to it. He looks beat to hell, obviously. Like flesh turned inside out. Even the whites of his eyes are crackled through with red. 

Fuck you, he mouths. Tries to remember that he's a man, not just a vessel of adrenaline and the barest threads of whatever billion-year-old life-sustaining processes evolved to ensure survival.

Even though he watches his mouth move, the brain-body connection fails to spark. He repeats himself once, twice, three times, each utterance stoking a bone-deep, impotent rage until he grabs the edges of the sink and squeezes until he sees stars. Getting there doesn't take much. All the blood loss, he realizes.

The world eventually sharpens again. He prods at his chapped lips for a brief second, then pulls the edge of his shirtsleeve down and leans in close to swipe his face clean.

-

Men are shuttled onto the trucks in masses. Next thing he knows, daylight is streaming into the car like a Broadway spotlight. He moves outside dumbly, processing the barbed wire fences and guard towers, the faces peering at them from behind the barrier.

Then he sees them. He sees him, resting his arms through the fence like it's a bartop a million miles away from any war, restrained and calm amidst the rest of the screaming faces around him. Strangely, Bucky had also imagined this part for his imaginary POW self: this exact moment of reunification, the way Gale's eyes never leave him for the entire welcome parade in. 

An illusion, Bucky's convinced, until Gale calls out, "What took you so long?"

Bucky smiles. His face, still in the nascent stages of healing, feels like it's ripping apart again but he can't stop smiling. The indelible relief in Gale's posture is only recognizable because he feels it himself, too, blooming through his body in an overwhelming brushfire. Everything within him seems to catch flame alongside it. He's kismet, he's fate, he's a ball of goddamn light as he walks through the high-wired gates.

-

He tells Gale -- Gale! Here! In this hellhole, waiting for him! -- the pig story after the second time he asks about Bucky's "travels", in lieu of the actual events. There was what seemed to be a carefully considered number of days between asks, like he wanted to give Bucky time to settle into stalag life and come up with a neatly packaged interim history for his own sake. 

Joke's on Gale, though, seeing as Bucky wasted that time mostly staring at Gale's profile and the back of his head when no one else was looking. At night, he listened to Gale breathing for hours. That misfiring brain-body connection was evidently a general brain-reality affliction and even now, after a week, after the hustle and bustle of his arrival has settled, he finds himself doubtful about his or Gale's existence in this place at all. 

"It was like a horror show, Buck, I swear," Bucky says. "Wish you could've seen that pig."

Gale makes an agreeable noise, then pats Bucky's shoulder. Bucky is still laid up in bed for the most part, groggy in the mornings and sacked out by 2000, only to float in a purgatory between sleep and waking all night.

Gale pats him once more. "I'll bring you some food." 

"Nah," Bucky dismisses. "Crank already brought me some."

"Doc said it'll take a few weeks to feel right again," Gale goes on, as if Bucky hadn't even spoken. "Don't fight me on this, now," he adds in a softer voice. 

That ugly rage crests through Bucky. He swallows it down and says, "Get a good dessert this time then, will you? Something with fudge."

"Fudge," Gale echoes. "I'll see what I can do about that."

"Thanks." Gale's taken his hand back and Bucky rolls onto his side, trying to emulate the pressure. "Helluva place to have ended up, huh?"

"Helluva place," Gale repeats again, seemingly only half-there.

He blinks, hard, while looking at Bucky the whole time. Bucky wants to shake him by the collar, ask, What? What is it? Wants to ask all kinds of other things too -- is Gale hiding any injuries, does he think Bucky's face is gonna heal well, how did it feel to bail out, did he even like potatoes back home, is this the beginning of the end?

"Some pilots we are," Bucky says instead. He huffs a laugh, since Gale is apparently on copycat mode, and sure enough there's an answering smile from Gale, who's still making no move to actually leave. The longer he stands there, the more restless Bucky feels.

"Chow time's gonna be over if you don't get a move on," he points out. 

Gale nods and finally makes for the door. "I'll be right back," he says, tapping the doorframe on the way out. 

-

When Bucky is well enough to explore the world outside the barracks, Gale asks for a third time. They stand under the eave of their combine, Gale watching Bucky smoke like he's finding it deeply educational. 

"Did I ever tell you about that pig?" Bucky says in response.

In the distance the sun is setting, turning the horizon into a thrumming blood vessel. He squints at it and imagines a shovel hacking through the atmosphere, spilling all that light into the sky like a broken yolk.

"Bucky," Gale says in that low, sorrowful voice, the frequency of which cuts straight into Bucky and makes him want to put his fist through the fucking wall.

He ashes his cigarette instead and forces himself to look at Gale, just as Gale is placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. It sits there for only a second before moving up to cup around the bare skin on the side of his neck, gentle and yielding, skin to skin. Before he can stop himself, Bucky turns into it, under the guise of politely blowing smoke in the other direction. 

Gale scritches at the hair sloping behind his ear. Bucky coughs, swallows. Clears his throat. Gale can still feel him shaking, probably. 

Thing is, Bucky wants to give him an answer. But when he looks back now, the memory keeps skittering away before he can catch hold of it. The only part he truly remembers is being blessed with his own personal holy trinity during interrogation: smokes, booze, and Buck Cleven. 

He wonders how Gale would respond, if he were to say this out loud. 

"You're alright now," Gale asks -- reassures -- something. In any case it makes Bucky want to laugh and laugh. 

"Yeah, I am," he lies. "I'll be even better once we find a way out of here."

"We're working on that part," promises Gale.

Gale's hand is still on Bucky's neck and Bucky is still turned into it, now watching his cigarette burn down to the filter between his fingers. He holds onto it for as long as he can, even as the cherry threatens to blister.

[keefechambers]

drop the rabban/piter ship manifesto Please

okay okay okay okay okay all right here we go

point the first: dave bautista and david dastmalchian are hot and therefore we are fully justified in wanting to smash them together like ken dolls

point the second: the 2021 scenes

rabban and piter never interact on page in the original books but denis made the choice to have them in scenes together because narratively they kind of fit as opposite sides of the spectrum of house harkonnen and that is fun. their canonical film scene having the vibe of "this fucking guy" on both of their parts fits the characters and belies a necessary amount of shared history, which is interesting.

plus, things that were deleted: bautista describes a scene where rabban is essentially trying to intimidate piter (i'd guess after their sauna scene with vlad). dastmalchian says there was a short scene of piter and rabban together where he's torturing a prisoner. this is probably the same scene. torturing a prisoner in proximity is basically a date for a mentat i think.

the choice to extend their screentime (even if for the pragmatic reason of not having to cast feyd until he'd have more than a minute of screentime and because denis loves his daves) creates a dynamic that is really cool! the slavering, entitled, shrieking manchild of house harkonnen and the coolly sadistic mentat? it's very hot to think about.

(please see this fanart for a summation of that Vibe)

point the third: narrative functions.

isn't it hot when foils kiss?

within the realm of dune, not speaking to the prequels/graphic novels, just the first book, rabban and piter essentially function as the top tier of baron harkonnen's operation - they are equal opposites, like real actual narrative foils. piter is a mentat and assassin and therefore serves a more subtle, back-end function while rabban is front-facing; he's the older of the nephews, he's a count and he's been ruling arrakis for a while.

the baron literally has an evil plan that involves taking back arrakis, installing piter as the ruler and then killing him and putting feyd in his place. when piter dies, he just does the same plan but with rabban. he treats them as interchangeable despite how different they are. they're at the top of vlad's list of "guys everyone fucking hates" together!

piter is also power-hungry. it makes sense that he'd see the most susceptible to manipulation harkonnen as an appealing target to sink his claws into. piter would absolutely treat rabban like a meat shield against the baron and, conversely, i think rabban would try to use piter to figure out how to keep his uncle happy. neither would succeed, but they would absolutely get wrapped up in each other trying.

additionally, they can't kill each other. neither of them have that boundary with anyone else, and could murderfuck their way through giedi prime, arrakis and lankiveil and the baron probably wouldn't care. but piter can't kill his boss's nephew, even the stupid one, and rabban can't damage his uncle's property. so even if they did hate each other, they would kind of be trapped in this state of flux where they couldn't do anything about it, anyway, so why not just fuck about it?

plus, with piter being a spice addict and rabban nominally in control of arrakis, there's a certain amount of poetry in the idea of piter being attracted to the source of his vices.

i conclude the manifesto with this excerpt from the novel:

like the baron thinks rabban is afraid of him but he's actually angry at him? come on.

[gachabastard]

Limbus Company Sinners as Fallen London Companions

Smashing my two hyperfixations together like dolls and making them kiss. What I'm seeking (lol) to do here is not to conflate the Sinners to existing Companions, but rather create Companions based off of them instead. If you know both things then this won't take any explaining.

For people who know Limbus Company but not Fallen London: Fallen London is a browser game made by Failbetter Studios. It is an alternate history of an 1800s London that has sunk deep below the earth into a subterranean cavern known as the Neath and is now overseen by the mysterious Masters of the Bazaar. You begin the game as a Surface-dweller who has recently descended into the Neath for certain reasons, which you are able to decide for yourself and act upon as you progress through the game. Companions are "equipment" of sorts that you can equip to increase (or lower) your character's stats. A full write-up of FL's mechanics could be another three separate posts on its own, so I recommend the wiki's Beginner's Guide and other resources therein to understand the mechanics I'll detail here. If you enjoy the writing in LCB you will most likely also love FL's writing. Please play it, it is awesome. (And lmk if you do, I'll add you as a friend and definitely not stab you in the back)

For people who know Fallen London but not Limbus Company: Limbus Company is a mobile game made by Project Moon. It is the third in a series of games, preceded by Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina, which are both available for purchase on Steam, though Limbus Company can be played independently of these if you want; the player avatar is an amnesiac so things are generally explained as needed (though Lobcorp and LoR are also very good and I recommend them, but you do have to buy those, so). The game centers around a department of the titular Limbus Company, the Limbus Company Bus Team (often shortened to LCB), the twelve individuals referred to as Sinners who make up the team, and their amnesiac Manager named Dante as they brave the ruins of the old branches of Lobotomy Corporation to retrieve strange objects known as Golden Boughs. All of the major characters in LCB are based off of classic literature (for example, Dante is based off of Dante's Inferno). If you like FL's writing you may enjoy LCB, but it is a gacha game which turns a lot of people off. For character info you can visit the Fandom wiki (yeah I know, it's a Fandom wiki), and if you want to read the story so far without playing the game you can check out this github page which contains all of the story text.

And if you don't know either...I don't know why you're reading this, but I hope my explanations and provided resources are enough to help you understand it regardless.

Okay, wall of text out of the way, let's get into the actual point of the post. This isn't meant to be balanced or anything this is just for fun because I'm diseased. Also LIMBUS SPOILERS THRU CANTO VI sorry.

Starting off with Sinner #1, Yi Sang:

Mirror-Marred Litterateur In the Mirror's glass, he observed endless possibilities. One such possibility observed him back. Watchful +4, Glasswork +2, Bizarre +1

Reasoning: Honestly? I thought about Sang Yi chilling in Parabola and that colored my whole concept here. But for real the whole Mirror thing is too perfect. Yi Sang defines Glasswork.

Sinner #2, Faust

Hell-Touched Engineer She hasn't the eyes of a devil, but builds infernal machinery previously unseen outside of Hell. Claims to know all outcomes, but shares precious little. Dreaded +2, Artisan of the Red Science +2, Decreases Nightmare build up

Reasoning: Something something Faust something something Mephistopheles something something her base EGO heals SP.

Sinner #3, Don Quixote

Dreaming Knight The only weapon stronger than a dream is delusion. Dangerous +5, Mithridacy +2, Increases Scandal build up

Reasoning: DQ is so skilled in Mithridacy she's got herself convinced of untruths, man. She's also allowed little a Scandal. As a treat.

Sinner #4, Ryoshu

Bohemian Blademaster Her masterwork blade is her brush; her enemies, her canvas. Legend has it that even the Boatman respects her work. Dangerous +4, Dreaded +2, Monstrous Anatomy +1

Reasoning: I feel like this one's pretty self-explanatory. I added a point of MA since I feel like she'd want to be a bit knowledgeable in monster anatomy for Art Reasons

Sinner #5, Meursault

Chained Stranger "The Neath is a prison," he says matter-of-factly, "And I am here because I am meant to be." Despite this, one could swear they saw the sun reflecting off his eyes. Persuasive +2, Respectable +3, Reduces Scandal build up

Reasoning: Hehe did you see what I did there. I referenced the thing. Anyway aside from being pretty blunt, he's probably the best candidate out of the whole group for Respectable.

Sinner #6, Hong Lu

Bright-Eyed Debonair New to the Neath, from an affluent Surface family. The Neath's many delights confuse and excite him. Persuasive +2, Shadowy +1, Kataleptic Toxicology +1

Reasoning: I think Hong Lu being new to the Neath fits with him being sheltered in canon. Also +1 KA cuz you know that boy is hittin that Honey. The Honey-Dens of Veilgarden already know him by name.

Sinner #7, Heathcliff

Bereaved Ruffian He knows the backstreets of London like the scars on his hands. He remembers that which the world does not, and waits. Dangerous +8, Shadowy -3, Chthonosophy +1

Reasoning: Oops Canto VI colored the fuck out of this one oops oops oops. Happy Firmament Day btw have some Chthonosophy. :)

Sinner #8, Ishmael

Zeefaring Pathfinder She's hunted the most feared creatures known to the Zee, losing her way to chart a path for her mad captain. Her compass will see that she never loses sight of her path again. Zeefaring +2, Monstrous Anatomy +3, Increases Nightmares build up

Reasoning: Ishy-Fishy you were made to embody Zeefaring and MA.

Sinner #9, Rodion

Lacre-Drowned Cardshark Born in a run-down corner of London where the Lacre falls thickest at Sacksmas, she knows a thing or two about cards. She wouldn't mind teaching you...for a price. Persuasive +4, Watchful +6

Reasoning: Heart's Desire vibes. That's it.

Sinner #10, Dante

Timepiece Manager An infernal timepiece ticks away where a head should be. They have no memories of their own, but they can never forget again. Chthonosophy +2, Steward of the Discordance +1, Dangerous -5, Reduces Wounds build up

Reasoning: Congratulations Dante on being the only bitch to not have the Discordance because the Discordance isn't real. Ummm I went off vibes here but tbh I think Dante should decrease your Dangerous by way more actually. Hell, let's make then decrease Dreaded too. Let's make them a Weasel of Woe.

Sinner #11, Sinclair

Unrealized Prodigy Young and anxious, jumping at every shadow. His potential is very promising. Dangerous +6, Dreaded +1, Increases Wounds build up

Reasoning: Sinclair may be baby. But he is Scary Baby.

Sinner #12, Outis

Commanding Oneironaut She's led the forces of Parabola to victory more times than you could count. Don't ask her any questions. Dangerous +8, A Player of Chess +2, Glasswork +1

Reasoning: Everybody shut the fuck up Parabolan War General Outis is everything to me, you hear me. EVERYTHING. She favors the Chessboard, obviously, with that +2 to APoC.

Sinner #13, Gregor

Metamorphic Veteran A large insectoid pincer sits where a right arm should be. He'll talk about pretty much anything but the details around that. Seriously, be careful around that thing. Dangerous +5, Shapeling Arts +3, Bizarre +2

Reasoning: You had to know Gregor would be the only bitch to get Shapeling Arts. Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't. I wanted to give him Persuasive due to his amicability but also he actually. Sucks at being persuasive like canonically, so. Dangerous it is.

BONUS! Vergilius

The Red Gaze The most feared Fixer in the Neath. Whatever could you have done to strike up an alliance with him? Watchful +30, Shadowy +30, Dangerous +30, Persuasive +30, Greatly reduces Nightmare build up

Reasoning: He's the Red Goat I ain't gotta explain shit.

anyway hope you enjoyed even though you definitely didn't. i have a headache now so i'm gonna go consume painkillers and caffeine and go run mirror dungeons in lcb for that limbus battle pass.

[horsegirlwithnoname]

WHICH LANCER MECHS WOULD THE CAST OF DUNMESHI USE

hi it's me smashing my dolls together again.

Senshi: The IPS-N Lancaster

This is the easiest choice in the entire crew. Senshi is the team dad, the ultimate supporter, he is going to make sure his team are fed and well-rested and happy. I could see him grabbing some kit from Harrison like the Hardlight Defence System and the Stasis Bolt but there's no way his main chassis is anything other than The Party Horse.

Laios: The SSC Swallowtail

You know what, I know this is a stretch, fight me, but Laios' defining trait is his pursuit of knowledge. He loves books and takes obsessive notes. Laios doesn't simply want to defeat the dungeon, he wants to understand it. His role is not really as primary damage-dealer, it's leader and coordinator. I think he's probably dropping a lot more points in hull than your average Swallowtail and spending a lot more time on the frontline, but ultimately his whole deal is victory through learning and that's the Swallowtail's whole deal too.

Chilchuck: The HA Napoleon

I'M NOT BEING PAID TO FIGHT, TRUEBLACK AEGIS, FUCKING GOODBYE.

But also unironically, he initially appears entirely selfish but holds quite serious depth and a desire to keep his friends safe that he'd never admit. Like what if this tiny piece of shit who only wants to be left alone is actually the MVP and is kind of secretly carrying the party.

Marcille: SSC Black Witch ... ... with EVERYTHING else in HORUS. Girl unlocks the base-level protector frame then is secretly loading every single darknet NHP she can into it. You look at her like you understand but you don't, because she's Black Witch hardware running Goblin and Lich software and you realise she only dropped those LLs into Black Witch in the first place because the crew really needed it and secretly she's the most dangerous and unpredictable member of the entire party. Like what if your heart just phased out of reality for 0.0001 seconds, do you know what would happen? Marcille does.

Falin: HORUS Hydra

Marcille's opposite (and opposites, of course, attract). She's the team mom, she's a petmaster and animal lover, she's rocking around in the most terrifying piece of hardware you've ever seen. She has taken the time to name every single one of her drones and is making headway of naming every single nanoparticle in the horrifying greywash swarm that accompanies her everywhere. I hope you like getting eviscerated by Buggy, the beetle-shaped assassin drone that she's painted a smiley face on. Bits from the Kidd and Gorgon in the mix as well. Ostensibly team support, in practice a complete damage monster.

[nancy-xx]

Nancy and Sid

The Chelsea was a rather appropriate setting for the events of last week, which culminated in the arrest of Sid Vicious on a charge of murdering his girlfriend Nancy Spungen. When Swedish writer Stina Lindberg stayed there a couple of weeks ago, she was not surprised to find Sid and Nancy as fellow guests Naturally, she sought an interview...

SID VICIOUS Ex-Sex Pistol

Nancy Spungen, his girl friend. There's no mistaking Sid's black, spiky hair and his bovverboy aura. I only see the back of Nancy's head. She looks like an old woman. Hunchbacked. Tufts of almost white hair stick out from underneath her beret. Her coat is an ancient, ankle-length article. It's a Saturday, September 31.1 spot then in the lobby of the Chelsea Hotel on West 23d Street in New York. If you find yourself living at the same hotel as Sid Vicious, if you're a journalist and you like the new wave, you're an idiot not to try to talk to him. But it feels weird. The same evening, I see Sid play with ex-members of the New York Dolls at Max's Kansas City, haven of New York punks. Sid screams, makes faces, and spits. Grabs himself between the legs, doesn't look at the audience at all. They're all awkward on stage, the volume is insupportable, and the music is lousy. The paing audience is less than warm. The only ones enjoying the show are three pale peroxide blondes with fire-engine red lipstick sitting on the stage moving with the music. They're with the guys in the band, Sid seems to want to pack it in after three numbers, and splits. Nancy runs after him and brings him back. He spits, makes another face and starts playing again. He doesn't get through to the audience, and his half-hearted spasms just look pathetic. A lone, doped-out Japanese bops away frantically, but the rest of the audience is frozen. Sid is not a great musician, nor is he a genuine stage personality. Sid is a 21-year-old Englishman enlarged to the size of a Colossus by the mass media. Poor bastard. I ring Sid's room repeatedly to try for that interview. Finally he answers and agrees to talk to me the same evening. At nine p.m. I knock on his door. Room 100, ane flight up at the Chelsea Hotel. The hotel is the first New York building to have a cultural preservation order stamped on it. Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas, Janis Joplin, Andy Warhol and many other artists and musicians have lived here. These days, there's a motley blend of prostitutes, pop musicians, near-destitute pensioners, French film teams and tourists. The door is yanked open. Nancy all but draga me into the room. Sid leaps up from the bed. He's wearing orange overalls and a chain around his neck. He checks me out nervously, then runs about the room, digging in his clothes and bags Nancy, dressed in a black net leotard and black leather trousers, holds my arm, hard, and babbles "What are we going to do? We don't know a thing. We just got to New York and don't know the score. Is five too much?" Sid searches nervously for something. The room is both bare and disordered. There's a big bed with a TV at the foot of it. A desk, a table, a chair. Two or three gold records are propped against the wall, and there are suitcases on the floor. Sid and Nancy have just changed rooms. The mattress caught fire in the other one. Suddenly I get it. They think I'm a dealer. God. I swallow, then explain who I am. Sid explodes a groan and throws himself onto the bed "Fuck' sighs Nancy. She lets go my arm and lies down with Sid. The TV drones on at maximum volume. I sit on the edge of the bed, laughing at the absurdity of everything. Sid points out that there's nothing to laugh at. I turn on my tape recorder "What do you think of New York?" "Very democratic. Do pretty much what you want. Not that you'd probably do anything much, but that's beside the point" turns out that Sid is trying to put together a band. It "I had a group going. Johnny Thunders. But Nancy smashed up Johnny's girl, so it went down the drain "Did you?" I asked Nancy. " "Yeah. She fed a lot of stupid stuff to me. I've been friends with Johnny Thunders for years. We had a lot of fun. And she couldn't take it. She started it, so I kicked her in the face," So Sid's looking for a new group, and plays with the ex-Dolls in the meantime We talk about the show at Max's Sid blames the audience, "My name's worth quite a bit of bread over here," he said.

"Isn't that because of the Sex Pistols? "No My name's worth a lot on it's own. It's worth more than any of the rest of them." Nancy agrees, and points out that Sid has had more press than any of the others. "Why?" "Because I'm what people call a bad boy. I do things that are outrageous,' he says, with what sarcasm he can muster. "Do you think that you're outrageous?" "No, but that's what they write about me. They're square "Do you think you're a free person?" "No. I'm on house arrest" "Who put you there?" "The world. But I'm going to try to get us free. I won't be able to do it, but if people get the idea for long enough, the idea that punk started off, it'll become like that eventually." We talk about punk's anti-racist side, and about Rock Against Racism, which Sid says he supports, and about England, which Sid reckons is the most boring country in the world-after Sweden, where I come from. America is okay. Sid Vicious is okay, and is doing fine However, the Sid Vicious I see in front of me seerns anything but. He and Nancy make me think of two animals caught in a trap and trying to claw their way. Desperately. out I ring the next day, and speak to Nancy. She doesn't seem to understand me, and thinks I'm trying to put her and Sid down. I tell her she's paranoid, but ask her for an interview. She seems to break down, and suddenly sounds genuine "It's not so strange that we get suspicious. Everybody's trying to get at us, trying to get Sid's money. Every bastard we meet wants to get famous through Sid. They've made a fortune off him here in the U.S., but we don't get anything. I'm a person, you dig? Not a dog" I ask her again about an interview, but she freaks when I say I can't pay her. "You think you can speak to us free?" suddenly she's hard-boiled again and go back to Sweden and make money because you met Sid Vicious? Get fucked!" I begin to see their dilemma. They think they can go on living off their fame, while they're in the process of buming out. Sid and Nancy sense that, I felt. What they didn't know was that the Swedish papers would pay more than any of us thought at the time because someone,   maybe Sid, stuck a knife into Nancy a week after I met them Sid's under real arrest. Nancy's dead. And the pop industry and mass media hysteria are doing okay.

[lovecolibri]

Am I a loser for fearing that this will be like BT 1.0 in that it is dragged out and remains stale and chemistry-less and harmful to Buck's character (for being with a not good person and not caring about said person's bad deeds) and the twist will be that it doesn't end 😭 Don't hate me for being negative...I was not negative until today, seeing that gremlin in the promotions and Tim showing favoritism to anti-Buddies yet again on FB.

And it's so funny that all my concern stems from social media activity and nothing about what I'm seeing on the show itself. Because the show has shown he is a non-entity - giving him and Buck no development, HIM no development, no evolution, no appeal, since last season. Yet maybe the writing and producing IS just that bad now.

Sorry to be a bit of a pessimist. I just feel like the vibe shifted dramatically over the past day and I'm in my feelings, I guess.

First of all, you're not a loser! There is a long history of TV shows NOT following through on things for fans of a popular fandom ship, including this one, back ins season 4, leading to that godawful BT 1.0 mess in the first place!

There is a lot of reasons this gets compared to the OG BT, because the show seems to be giving them no development and he's so clearly WRONG for Buck and seems to enjoy talking down to him and watching him deflate a little each time, and also it makes Buck look kinda shitty for dating someone who purposefully hurt, and delighted in hurting people Buck loves. I have said multiple times I wasn't ever worried about tay kay as a LI in s4 because she called him "needy" in that nasty voice on the heels of the audience seeing how absolutely shit his parents were and where all those issues came from, so I was sure that was the narrative telling us she wasn't going to work out. Only to get slapped in the face with an entire fucking season of Buck looking miserable with her, which was never addressed, him trying to talk about their issues and the firefam lecturing HIM about HIS failings instead of ever being allowed to talk about how they felt about her given their past (you can't tell me back in s4 Athena would EVER willingly let that woman in her and Bobby's home, much less feed her), and then watch her nearly get Chim and Hen killed and STILL get a fucking "amicable" breakup of the "oh no one was really to blame, it just didn't work out" variety. So like. Yeah, sometimes the writing is just That Bad 🤷🏻‍♀️

What I will say about all of that though, is we now have information we didn't back in s4. Information like, we weren't seeing things and there WAS a set up planned, and discussed with Oliver (at least, likely Ryan too since the shooting was Like That and what the fuck other bi realization was Buck gonna have, or gay realization was Eddie gonna have after his breakup with Ana was Like That), but the network forced the changes. Tim fucked off to go smash other dolls together (and lost his mind a little bit over on LS, probably because he leveraged that shit into getting to do whatever he wanted, plus the whole RL effect), and the story got changed and, as Tim pointed out, it made the show markedly worse. I'm not putting all my faith and trust in a network, but I will say ABC knows what kind of accolades, awards, and hype this kind of story will bring them and that is something I DO trust.

8x01 might be fluke like the handful of watchable episodes in s5-6, but it truly felt like the Buck we know and love was back, the focus was on the core four and on the emergencies, there was *heart* in the emergency, we got dispatch properly involved, and even the Athena stuff took a turn for a more rescue-focused adventure than the Con-Air prison transport plane mishap I was expecting. The bees sounded ridiculous and like they could be one emergency, like freeway shark my beloved, or *maybe* hold a whole episode, but I was NOT expecting much for a disaster opening and was fully prepared for s5 levels of zoo animals promotion vs actual 3 episodes of creeper being creepy cop storyline. But they actually...kinda pulled it off?? It's no tsunami or earthquake by a LONG shot, and I'm still reserving judgment until the arc is over (I enjoyed the cruise ship disaster but it needed more core four on sight helping with rescues which make it drag a little being so separate from everything else), but it felt like a season 2 or 3 episode at heart!

All this to say, *EYE*, notorious salt gremlin and hater (because trying for low expectations is what works for me!), am feeling more hopeful about the show as a whole than I have in awhile. And I'm going to hold your hand so gently when I give this advice, you can take it or not (for some people, needing to know everything is what works for them, so you do you!), but do not listen to that middle-aged white man and what he does on facebook. Or anywhere. Do not listen to that man! He is a shit-stirrer, and he is a liar! They all are in interviews! Him and Oliver both said "hardly any time skip" and then they did the exact same 3 month time skip they have ALWAYS done between the spring season ending and the fall premier! He lies! He interacts with shit he probably doesn't even read, just promotes his show! He does not care about upsetting us because people shouting over each other about the show just reads to him, and the people above him to let him do things, as the show having enough impact to be talked about! I personally have good feelings because he likes to get his way and ABC gave him something in 4 episodes he'd been trying to do since s4. And they originally green-lit it being another character so it feels like there were plans for both and timing just got switched.

DO NOT LET THAT MAN STEAL YOUR JOY!

I'm not going to tell you that of course it's all going to work out and be perfect and everything we wanted, but I WILL say, we all saw how fucking miserable Oliver was in s5 and 6, how checked out and disengaged he was (he was SO CLOSE and they TOOK IT from him! Fuck FOX forever!), and we saw how he was/is in interviews with or about that man, vs how happy and excited he was/is when talking about Ryan/Eddie/Buddie right now, how much he's engaging and sharing, and WHAT he is sharing. We saw the shift from filming episodes 5-6 to the back half of s7 for both him and Ryan. It's very loud, and while some kinda similar vibes have come through before, we have knowledge now we didn't before about why we kept getting those vibes and then having them pulled back. We know WHO was standing in the way and it wasn't Tim and it sure as fuck wasn't Oliver or Ryan, and that doesn't appear to be an issue anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I hope my rambling incoherence was helpful, Nonnie!