#i don't even know concretely what i want to talk about
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this post is probably very doomerist, skip if you're having a nice day
but I was just taking a walk along the local mid-size river in my town, the river bed there is fairly deep, i am bad at estimating that kind of stuff, but probably five or six meters in height, fairly steep. And up to the very top, there was still debris caught in the trees, from the flood two months ago. So the water was at least up that high, maybe more, but the path was cleared now so I can't tell. I just know that is was a scary, devastating amount of water but we all know that.
and i know some people just say, floods happen, floods have always happened, 10 years ago, 50 years ago, hundreds of years ago. that is true of course, but i think it would be ridicuous to pretend that this big flood has nothing to do with climate change. maybe it would have happened regardless, but from what I know, climate scientists agree that the severity was due to factors that are due to the climate crisis.
It has been over two months. The dehumidifyer in my apartment building is still running, non-stop, 24/7, day and night. I don't even want to know how much electricity that thing eats up. Which might seem petty, considering my ground floor neighbors had to move out and it will still be months until they can move back in. but i am not worried so much about the electricity bill. i am worried because electricity does not just appear from thin air.
The damage is economically devastating for many people, but I can't stop thinking about how many resources all the rebuilding takes. Electricity from the dehumidifyers. New furniture means a lot of wood and plastics. Not too long ago I walked past a gigantic pile of fridges that broke in the flood. So much electronic waste, so many resources required to replace broken things. How many houses were damaged bad enough that they need to be completely rebuilt? Even concrete is a finite resource.
When we talk about feedback loops regarding the climate crisis, we're usually thinking about the polar icecaps melting, which causes the earth to warm up even more. but I've been thinking about how natural catastrophes like floods and the rebuilding afterwards is also kind of a feedback loop, isn't it? It takes a ton of electricity for example to have dehumidifyers running for weeks nonstop, electricity that still comes, at least partially, from burning fossile fuels, which will in turn cause more carbon emissions. more climate change, more devastation, more rebuilding, and on and on and on.
I also think that we are now at a point in the climate crisis where we need to be realistic and need to expect disasters like the flood to happen more often. It's scary. And the worst is, as an individual, there is not much you can do about it.
Don't build a house near a river, yeah, sure. My apartment complex is nowhere near a risk zone. No one, absolutely no one, would have ever expected this here. Because we weren't hit by rising groundwater. It was the surface water running down the nearby hills and pooling around the houses. There are no measures that the muncipality or anyone could have taken to prevent that. You'd have to build a giant wall around the entire town or something, but that would obviously be ridiculous. It's a new apartment complex, the first half was finished only two years ago, the second half barely more than six months before the flooding. I saw the new groundfloor neighbors build garden beds and plant flowers over the summer and now they had to move out again because the entire ground floor is just ruined. They tore out the walls and the flooring and it will still be months until these apartments can be lived in again.
I know people living in the area where the groundwater rose dramatically and took a long time to go down again. At least one couple still had pools of water in their basement six weeks after the flood. You can't do anything about that. You can't pump the water out before the groundwater sinks, it will just come back and possibly destabilize your entire house.
Is that not insane? Is it not absolutely nuts that we are all just supposed to go on with our lives, knowing that we can expect events like this to happen several more times over our livetimes? A flood like this is supposed to be something anyone living only ever sees once in their live, and their children never experience like it, probably not their grandchildren, either.
My aunt and uncle, who admittedly live in a high-risk zone were hit with a similarily devastating flood only 15 years ago.
Makes you wonder when the next time will be.
It's terrifying, especially since there are still so many people in power, in austria and all over the world, who COULD do something, who could have started doing something 50 years ago but didn't.
But people in power will just move to their second or third home if their first home should ever be affected by a natural disaster. And the 100.000 or more Euros it takes to repair and rebuild may be devastating to the average household but for them it is pocket change.
And at this point, we can only scramble to try and fight the symptoms, because keeping the disease in check seems pretty much impossible. Airconditioning in the summer (again more electricity consumption), build flood protection (more resources needed), but also you now need irrigation systems for agriculture because instead of a flood, a drought could hit you just as likely. None of these things are bad, we need to find ways to live with the climate crisis, because at this point it can't be prevented, it is happening and has been happening for decades. But so many things we have to do because of the climate crisis feed right back into it and will make it even worse.
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#its probably because i got a double dose of antidepressants but i need to vent#i'm tired of feeling tired#i don't even know concretely what i want to talk about#but the latest reblogs have been on my mind alot#i don't think the past year would have affected me as much as it had if it wasn't for the shunning and silence that#that comes with talking about microaggressions and racism in fandoms#its one thing to have a bad experience with a few people#its another when most of the people you knew just watched it happened#i know people dont believe ne#its easier to say im the 'aggressive one'#its just sad because i don't even have to be black online#im sad i feel like i have to choose#but the fandom was the first time i had so many nonblack friends at once#and i regret it so much#funny enough my dad always warns me every year about that kind of stuff#about the importance of keeping your distance from non-black folks#because of how quickly they turn on u when you're labelled difficult#he told me that again yesterday and he has no idea any of this stuff happened#that im on antidepressants now because i didn't listen to him#needless to say the second i finish my fic i don't want anything to do with p5 again#the only reason ive even continued is cause i love my story so much#i dont see the point in putting so much of my heart out in a fandom not safe for black folks#then again what fandom even is#delete later
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love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world
#im talking about griffith btw#guts i feel i get intuitively - maybe because i have some personality traits in common with him#and we get more about his life concretely told to us in canon. so he is a bit easier to pin down as a character and feel attached to for me#but whenever i was reading the manga i just kept wanting more insight about griffith's actions and feelings#like ok yeah its fun to have mysterious antagonists and suspense /tension etc but its also fun to feel like you deeply understand them too#and i felt like that was a bit missing from him for me in canon#so reading about him in analysis and fics is the most fun for me rn#he always felt kinda half unreal to me- which maybe was the point of him - but i wanted a bit more about his childhood or something?#and wished we had more stuff explicitly from his pov in the story to read or explanation about his transformation or wtv#and now he's so much more closed off to me even than he was in the golden age. i keep waiting for him to explain stuff and he does not#ANYWAYS all this rambling to say some people out there are very good at interpreting him and making his like. insecurities#more obvious to me bc i didnt really get that side of him from canon intuitively well#also im really enjoying reading the first few berserk fics ive read#there may not be a ton of them out there but there is def writing talent in the fandom#i'll share some recs once i'm done sifting through most of what's out there to read#also (not to tie everything back to death note but it IS my home fandom after all)#i feel griffith is obvs the more light-like character here and L maybe a bit guts-like? but unlike berserk in death note#light is the one you get to know best and L is the mysterious / unreal one you don't get a lot of concrete insight into#and in the DN fandom I can read the more mysterious character intuitively but had to warm up to the less mysterious one instead#and the mystery of L makes sense to me and doesnt bug me as much due to like - he HAS to hide a lot about himself or else he will die lol#so some similarities there but also some opposite feels as well#berserk spoilers#p
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i just finished iron blooded orphans and need to lay down for a bit
#it was so good#i don't have a lot of concrete thoughts rn just Feelings™#it was SUCH a wild ride. I'm always kinda hesitant to talk about a show bc i feel like I'm gonna spoil it but it's also not new lol so??#imma talk about it a bit anyways so tags after this will have spoilers#BUT SJFKGKDLA#so many people died 😭 imo the late deaths weren't as Sad™ as the earlier ones but still.#the way everyone changed their names and picked up new lives but still kept in touch with each other#and everyone finding Something because they kept moving forward. particularly Takaki in particular for me 🥹🤲#hearing something as simple like if u see a lot of places and learn a lot of things u will have many options. but The Way he's#living that out is just 🤌 a long way from being human debris my boy 🫂 I'm so proud of him#and I'm glad that greedy arms freaking mf got shot up in the bathroom 😼 it's what he DESERVED!!#last episode just like. rly emphasizing that even though the group is done everyone still lives on and finds their niche#and it's tragic fr how many people had to die trying to realize a dream that happened anyways 😔 though it wouldn't have#without their deaths so.. i fuckn KNEW at the beginning of the second season when Olga got the warning#about how if ur taking shortcuts/fastest way possible ur going to regret it later was MASSIVE foreshadowing#and it's just like damn y'all r letting me know this early huh 😭imma enjoy the ride regardless and what a fucking ride it was#i almost want to watch it again but there are also Other gundam series i need to check out#not for a while though.. imma do some stuff around the house n maybe draw for a bit.#just rly sit on my feelings and the Experience i just had. thank u everyone who brought up IBO it was SOOOO fucking good#feel free to recommend other favorites of yours i should check out next. mecha anime has always been a blindspot too so#if y'all have any in general from the genre lmk ^~^
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The problem with people who are "right" because they insist they're right, and the only way to be right is to simply perfectly follow their every dictation on the subject unquestioningly is this...
Ok, let's just take it as a given that you're right... the problem here is that if that's what's right I'm afraid I have to dig my heels into being wrong. If you are as righteous and just as you insist you are then I've got no choice but to be the villain because I can't stand what you're saying I'd have to do to be good
Shockingly I even think it's wrong, which is odd because we've already defined it that you're inherently and unassailably right... yet here we are
Worst part is there's a lot of these things where I'm not even full stop against it, I actually might be on their side if they could stop and address a couple of issues I consider kind of important... but they won't, because they're morally right and don't have time for addressing nonexistent issues I'm clearly just dreaming up
Undoubtedly right they are, the defect must surely be my own... and yet here we are. Vile and wicked as it might make me, I still can't just go along with you
#mm tag so i can find things later#and whatever you think this is about and however you've already decided it agrees with you#I'll say this is about like... minimum 2 topics at very different points in the political spectrum... and probably like 20 easy#so like... it may well be talking about your own behavior on certain subjects#I'm talking about not even being willing to entertain good faith questions#and especially about labeling anyone who doesn't tow your exact party line a horrible person#...the amount of shit where it's like 'you know I actually agree with you... except for this one major sticking point'#'just tell me how we deal with this one pretty big thing and I'm fully on board' and... well actually you're terrible for that#or the amount of places where it's like I agree with your goals; but not your methods but... I don't think arguing would do a damn thing#you've already dug your heels in so deep and maybe you're even right to do it.. but I'll never go along with it no matter what that makes m#and the number of overall good people I know who this post is honestly about#they may well be far better than I am; I've never claimed to be good; quite the opposite#and yet I'm afraid I have to say that... to me you're wrong; wrong in concrete ways#maybe you could even address my concerns and help me see with my stupid brain why these aren't issues... but you won't#because you're right; and you know you're right; and so you'll never be wrong#and this isn't just some idle whataboutism... or maybe it is; I'll never say I'm the moral arbiter; again I could be wickedly wrong#and there's a variety of reasons someone believes what they believe; but... there's often blind dogma at the end#I may be stupid; but I can usually draw a line from my stance to something in the world#maybe it's a stupid nonsense line and I don't see my mental gymnastics... very well could be#but I can draw a line... it's not just circular logic; it's not just bouncing between two points#and I often can actually point to places I'm not happy with how things are or will be... we live in the real world and that sucks#example that... man it's more politically charged than I like getting; but ok#I really want this Ukrainian aid to pass even though I don't like the Israeli aid attached... but I get that's the only way it's passing#I want the Ukraine aid because I see residential houses getting stuck by missiles; but I don't want the Israeli aid for the same reason#and it comes down to that I think that the aid amount is sufficiently higher to Ukraine to make it enough of a net positive#I could be wrong... but you can at least see my work; I'm coming at it from a perspective of bombing civilians is wrong#I could be stupid; I could point to two people I know on here who would tell me I'm stupid for at least one part of this... probably all#yet there it is... and... it'll be hard to convince me otherwise
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Is there any plan for after Harris loses (which seems inevitable at this point)? People are pointedly not talking about after, so I assume that Trump winning really does mean everything is Over in a very final way.
...
Both of those assertions are wrong.
Polls are notoriously unreliable (and getting less reliable), and things are close. I honestly have no idea who's going to win. But right now, fivethirtyeight.com (which is the best overall politics predictor in the US, and has been for the last several election cycles) has Harris ahead by 1.3 points. So, no, Trump winning is not inevitable.
But especially with things this close and the election this close, this is the least likely time for people to be publicly talking about contingency plans for a Trump win. The more people think Trump is going to win, the less likely Harris voters are to show up at the polls ... which means that Trump is more likely to win. Talking about how awful a Trump presidency would be if he got elected can motivate people to vote, when paired with "but voting for Harris can help prevent that!" Talking about what to do after he wins (if he does) is much more concrete and much more likely to convince people that there's no point in voting, we need to move on to the next step of preparing for the inevitable. But it isn't inevitable! Not even close!
Organizations at all levels--political groups, advocacy groups, charities, legal aid groups, etc.--have been preparing all along. But the more you talk about those contingencies in public, the more likely you are to actually need them.
And the thing is, we know a Trump win would be bad. How bad, and in what way exactly ... depends on a lot of factors. His first term was bad, but he was prevented from achieving his goals because he is incapable of keeping competent people around, and nobody knew how to make the bureaucracy of government do what they wanted it to do. He may have fixed that problem, he may not. We know what his goals are and those of his closest allies. What we don't know is, would he be better able to carry those goals out this time if he wins, and if so, how many of them he will be able to enact. And what we, as leftists, can do in the event of a Trump presidencey depends on all of those things!
So it's much better to point out that the odds are in Harris' favor right now (even if not by much) and we need to go out and make sure they stay in Harris' favor.
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Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!
I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.
Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:
There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.
As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.
One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!
And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.
I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.
There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.
So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.
Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.
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Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism
You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.
"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.
"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"
"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.
"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."
When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.
"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.
"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.
Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.
"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."
It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.
"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."
You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.
"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.
"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"
"We already broke u-"
His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.
"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"
You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.
You say nothing.
"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.
You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...
"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."
#yandere#yancore#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere oneshot#yandere x you#yandere male x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader
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A Bargain To Remember
Kinktember Day 13: Car sex
(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut
words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist
"Finally, a face to the name."
You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.
The surprise is that she knows you.
Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.
"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.
"I would like to make a purchase."
"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"
She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."
You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."
She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.
"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."
There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.
Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."
You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."
Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."
You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"
"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"
"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."
"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.
"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."
She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.
"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.
You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.
"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."
She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.
"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.
She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.
She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"
"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."
Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."
You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.
The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.
"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.
You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"
"Do it." She's insistent.
A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.
There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.
Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.
"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.
"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"
"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."
Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.
"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"
Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"
You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."
"You're going to manually record?"
"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.
She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.
A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.
A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.
"Where are we?" you ask.
"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.
"When are we?"
"2024."
"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"
She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"
"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"
She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."
Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.
"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."
"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.
And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.
"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.
She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.
"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.
Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.
It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.
You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.
She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.
You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.
Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.
She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.
You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.
You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.
"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."
You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.
"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."
You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.
You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.
"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.
"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.
Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.
Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.
You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.
"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.
Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."
She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.
You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.
"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."
"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.
"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.
She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."
You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.
A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.
You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.
Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."
"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."
You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.
The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.
"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.
It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.
"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."
Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.
From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.
Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.
And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.
"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"
"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."
"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.
"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.
You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...
"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."
You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.
She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.
"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.
There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.
"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.
You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.
"Incredible," you breathe.
Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.
"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.
"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.
"I'll get started."
#kinktember#kpop smut#Miyeon smut#gidle smut#kpop fanfic#male reader#m reader#smut#Miyeon x reader#Cho Miyeon smut#(g)i dle smut
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okay but a like post-series fic i want that's like: steve harrington being the only man left in hawkins fighting monsters
and not like a 'everyone died, last man standing' way but just. they beat it back, the story ends, nice little tie-up and neatly concluded, eleven loses her powers because their world is completely cut from the other. and life goes on. eddie (yes, eddie lives au don't fight me) goes off with his band, robin-nancy-jargyle off to separate cities for college. the kids go to high school, graduate high school, and scatter across the country. joyce and hop buy a beach house far-far-far away from goddamn hawkins indiana.
steve though. steve stays. he does it too without comment, takes all their calls telling him all these amazing things. the years pass. the calls are fewer and far between. he's mostly in contact with only dustin and robin. except robin's out of country doing some crazy temp job in some remote country, she never catches him at home right now so just leaves him messages. and it takes a couple of weeks for dustin to realize he hasn't gotten steve on the phone.
frantically he calls around "have you heard from steve???" except the most people talk to steve anymore is like phone calls during holidays and holy shit what could have happened??
and what if it's back?
cue everyone who can in that moment, rushing back. eddie hopping on a flight from fucking london direct to indianapolis somehow, heart in his throat. he manages to meet hopper in the airport and they pick up max and dustin at the bus station.
they get to hawkins that is even more different that what they left. a smaller town, a town that shuts down completely when the sun sets. it's creepy and deserted.
except for the fucking upside down monsters of course.
and they're in their stupid little rental in front of this demogorgon and they're screaming but then the thing just goes splat on the concrete and steve fucking harrington is blinking owlishly at them.
"Oh, hey guys!" he calls jogging up to the driver's side window. "Wow, what brought you back down this way? You should have told me, I would have told you about the curfew!"
turns out steve just forgot to pay his phone bill that month, didn't even realize he was missing calls and he's been fighting monsters the entire time because actually they WEREN'T cut off from the upside down at all and he's just been casually fighting monsters for the remaining hawkins residence—the whole town knows now and steve's the guy you call when you have a monster problem
sidebar: WAYNE still lives in hawkins, and he and steve are best friends, eddie munson you are gonna LOSE YOUR MIND
#stranger things#steddie#because who am i if i don't make things about steddie#the steve harrington whump being left behind and abandoned again of it all#who's been spending christmas with him????#dw he actually probably had a grandma rotation + wayne BUT STILL#steve who is thriving in adversity best he can but rightfully hurt about being the last one there i can have both#'i don't need you to have a fulfilling life but it sure would have been nice if any of you had stuck around'#okay im done thank you for coming to my elevator pitch#shush mal#if this fic exists you're legally obligated to send it to me#i'll sue you if you don't#my steddie ideas
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If I Catch You
Summary: Dean chasing you through the halls of the bunker in a ghostface mask, what more do you need
Warning: SMUT, if I catch you I f*ck you trope, mask k*nk, choking, praise, edging, manhandling
A/N: did I forget to post this yesterday cause I was to busy partying... yes but hopefully you'll enjoy this enough to forgive me
You had always loved Halloween even despite being a hunter. It brought back the happy memories from your childhood, when there were no worries, the monsters were only people in masks and the good guys always won at the end of every scary movie. Dean shared your appreciation for the holiday. Even before you and him started dating, you would often spend Halloween nights curled up on motel beds, watching horror marathons with all the snacks and sugar you could handle. Sam on the other hand didn't see the appeal. Sometimes he would join you in your movie watching, but it was mostly to appease you and avoid ridicule from Dean.
This year you and your boyfriend had the bunker all to yourself. Sam had chosen to spend the night with Eileen and leave the two of you to your festivities.
The empty bunker allowed the perfect opportunity for you and Dean to play out a fantasy that you had talked about a few nights before, when you were cuddled up bingeing the Scream franchise.
"Ghostface is hot," you blurted randomly in the middle of the movie. You mostly said this to see his reaction, but there was a hint of truth to your statement.
"Why?" he said in utter confusion. He paused the movie and looked down at you in his arms.
You shrugged. "I don't know masked men are just hot."
"Masked men?" he tried to hide the hint of amusement.
"Oh yeah, it's a real popular thing now. I can show you all the thirst trap videos."
"Yeah I don't need to see that."
You laughed at his look of disgust before he continued.
"So what your saying is that I need to get a Ghostface mask, hm?" he said with a smirk.
"I mean I wouldn't mind, have you chase me through the halls in it." You tilted your head back to face him, your lips almost touching.
"What happens when I catch you?", he asked with a devious smile, his hold on you tightening slightly.
"You'll have to find out," you responded, your voice sultry and teasing.
"I think that can be arranged."
One costume store purchase later and you found yourself in only a set of sexy underwear, standing in the empty hallway. The concrete floor was cool under your bare feet, but your racing pulse kept you from being cold.
Dean had given you a head start before he would try to come and find you. Your excitement was growing. He wasn't going to chase you, if it came down to a sprint race, Dean would win every time. No, he was going to hunt you. You knew this made the game more even, but you also knew that he was crafty and smart. Though in all honesty you wanted to be caught, you were just going to be a little tease before you let him find you.
You had just rounded the corner by the kitchen, when the power went out, causing the bunker's red emergency lights to come on.
Nice touch, you thought.
You heard his voice echo through the hall, signaling that he was coming to find you. Your adrenaline was pumping. Not out of fear, you knew Dean would never hurt you, but out of anticipation for what would happen when he found you.
You slipped into kitchen looking for a spot to hide. Unsatisfied with the spots, you head to the library. You hid in the far corner behind one of the shelves and waited. You listened for his footsteps but heard nothing, years of hunting had trained him to be light on his feet. When you finally heard his voice call your name he was much closer than you expected. He purposefully stepped heavy coming up the stairs from the War Room, his boots thudding against the stone.
You took the opportunity to dart out the door in the back of the library. The bookcase blocked you from his view, but he definitely heard the door shut. You bolted down the back hall, heart pounding as you rounded the corner just as the door opened behind you.
Quietly you slipped into one of the bedrooms and hid under the bed. You listened until his footsteps passed the door and went down the hall. Crawling out from your hiding spot, you checked to make sure the hall was empty before sprinting the opposite direction.
As you ran past the next hall you saw him rounding the other end. You picked up the pace, knowing he had seen you. You turned the next corner and stopped, pressing your back against the cool tile wall to catch your breath. When you decided the coast was clear you went to move to the next hall, when an arm wrapped around your middle, you back pinned to his chest.
You tried to wriggle from his grasp just making it free when you stumbled. You caught yourself, but his hand caught your ankle dragging you across the polished concrete floor and pulling you under him.
He rolled you over and you came face to face with the black eyes and long mouth of the mask, illuminated by the red glow of the lights. This was the first time you had actually seen him in the mask and it was even hotter than you imagined. When he pinned your hands above your head you knew you weren't getting away.
"Gotcha," he growled.
"What are you going to do with me now?" you said through panting breaths, partially from running, partially from how incredibly turned on you were right now.
"You'll have to find out," he responded before using one hand to pull his belt from his jean and loop it around your wrists.
Ok that was hot.
When your hands were secured, he stood up scooping you up off the floor and tossing you over his shoulder, delivering a quick smack to your ass before walking toward your shared bedroom. It wasn't often that he manhandled you like this and you were loving every second of it.
When you got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the bed and straddled your legs. He hooked two fingers into the belt around your wrists.
"You want this to stay on?" he asked.
You nodded eagerly. Even being dominant and aggressive, he never wanted to push you limits, solely focused on giving you what you wanted.
"Stay," he ordered, getting up from the bed to strip down to his boxers, leaving the mask in place.
You watched him with lust blown eyes, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you admired his body. He moved to the end of the bed, grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the end. Your underwear was pulled down your legs and tossed over his shoulder. He wrapped you legs around his hips and you could feel his clothed erection. You moaned grinding down on him until his arm crossed you hips, holding you still.
He ran two finger through your slick. '"So wet for me. Is this just from me chasing you?"
You nodded again.
He lowered to his knee, his masked face coming level with your dripping cunt. Two of his fingers dipped into you, immediately curling into the spot that made your back arch and your knees weak. Your head fell back letting the pleasure wash over you.
From the box under the bed, he pulled out your vibrator. He planned to torture you tonight.
"Don't cum until I'm inside you. Do you understand me?" he said turning the toy to the lowest setting and pressing it to your clit.
"Yes," you moaned, hands gripping the sheet above your head. You didn't know how long you were going to last. You were already on the edge of release and he had hardly touched you yet.
As you got close he removed the vibrator, running his hand up your thighs and squeezing your hips to sooth you. You whined and looked at him between you legs. You tried to give him your best puppy eyes, but you couldn't see his expression. You only were met with the blank stare of the mask and the vibrations returning to your sensitive cunt.
He continued teasing you, edging you another four or five times. You hated it and loved it at the same time. It amazed you how he knew exactly where to keep you on edge, or at least it would amaze you, if there was a single part of your brain that could think straight.
"Dean," you whined again, desperate for release.
"Beg for it," he responded sternly, fingers dipping inside you again.
"Please, fuck me." You squirmed, you didn't know if you wanted to get away from he sensation or fuck yourself on his fingers.
He sped up his motions and leaned over you body until he was face to face with you. You could just barely see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you fall into ecstasy.
"Please," you begged.
He removed his fingers and dropped his boxers. His cock was thick and dripping precum, edging you had teased him almost equally as much. He pulled your hips even closer to the edge of the bed and hooked your shaking legs over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he slid into you, filling you completely.
He watched your face as your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.
"That's my girl," he praised, running his hands up and down your sides, desperately trying to keep himself together.
He started thrusting into you, slow, but so deep you could hardly take it.
"Look at me," he said, his hand came up to circle around your throat to put your attention back on him.
Your eyes opened to watch as he fucked you. You could see a blush of exertion creeping down his neck from under the mask. He gently added pressure to the sides of your throat as the speed of his hips increased.
Your hands reached for him as you got closer to falling apart. Noticing how close you were, he started to circle your clit with his thumb. You came with cry of his name, your hand gripping his forearm, his hand loosening from your throat, causing you to feel almost high.
He planted his hand beside your head as his hips stuttered and he came with a deep moan. You both stilled for a few minutes, panting and trying to regain your bearings.
After a moment, he gently pulled out to go get a towel to clean up your combined mess. You squirmed from the sensitivity as he wiped you down. He whispered an apology before tossing the rag and undoing the belt from your wrists.
Finally removing the mask, he ran a hand down his face and smiled down at you. It was funny to see him have that boyish grin after playing the sexy, dangerous slasher for the past hour. He lifted you up to place you at the top of the bed against the pillows.
"That was awesome," he said, laying down beside you and wrapping you in his arms.
"Yeah it was, I fucking love you." You laughed and buried your head in his neck.
"I love you too sweetheart, and I love that I can do things like this with you."
You nodded in agreement before you started to feel how worn out you were.
Both of you were exhausted from your activities and quickly fell asleep, deciding to take a nap before settling down for a night of Halloween movies and junk food.
#supernatural#dean winchester#spn#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean x y/n#ghostface#ghostface fanfiction#dean winchester smut#dean x reader smut#deanwinchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x fem!reader#dean winchester x reader smut#supernatural fic#supernatural dean#supernatural smut#supernatural fanfiction smut
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Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy
It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.
Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:
Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:
First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.
Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested). Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable, and even if charges don't stick, they're an easy vector for legal harassment.
Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.
It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.
The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.
Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.
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hear that thump? i can't get enough.
lando norris
cw: smut/pwp, seduction, unprotected sex, the reader seduces lando, zak brown's daughter!reader, dirty talk, missionary position, pregnancy
this bunny runs on comments and reblogs! feed the rabbit!! *thumps foot*
this felt wrong. but in the world of formula one, wrong didn't always mean bad. or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself as you got ready.
you got on the sheer stockings and the pearl necklace that you had gotten as gift. you made sure your hair was perfect, everything was in place. you had actually redone your make-up twice because you hated how it looked. everything had to be perfect for tonight.
you believed it was the night that would save mclaren.
another look in the mirror, you tried not to hyper focus on perceived flaws. you exhaled deeply, you were getting into your head. you placed your hands on your hips and examined yourself from all angles. you sighed, "he's not going to care, he's a guy your age. they only care about one thing."
yet, you worried.
you felt responsible for helping your father, zak brown, keep his driver's for the 2025 season. especially one in particular, lando norris. there was an uneasiness under the surface, while the tabloids and rumor reddits hadn't caught wind of it yet. you could tell that lando was looking away from mclaren.
and you knew that your father wanted to keep him in that driver's seat for the team. so as you got yourself ready for a dinner with lando, you felt the hammer in your chest. you looked in the full length mirror in your bedroom before you grabbed your purse and headed to the uber outside of your apartment.
lando was waiting outside the resturant for you, one hand in his pocket and the other on his phone as he tried to keep himself busy. you felt a hammering in your chest. tonight was simple, seduce lando norris.
"lando!" you chirped as you walked towards him. your heels clapped against the concrete under you. your arms open in a friendly manner. he looked up and beamed at you. you embraced him tightly, he returned it and even picked you up a little.
"there she is, oh wow. i haven't seen you in forever!" he laughed.
you smiled at him and placed a hand on his bicep, "i saw you you like three months ago! i have been busy with university."
he chuckled, "i know, i know. i'm pretty sure you had to squeeze in getting dinner with me."
you replied, "lando, you're more than worth it. i'll clear a whole day if i had to." then you took him by the hand, "come on, let's eat." the place was beautiful with the food prepared in a way that screamed expensive.
you sat across from him and laughed at all his stories. you could tell that he was enjoying the attention. the smiles, the food, the bit of liquor. he even complimented your laugh when one of his jokes really landed and you got a little louder than normal.
"lando. can you be honest with me?"
"anything."
you pouted a little as you leaned a little bit forward. the low light of the restaurant caught the colour of your eyes perfectly. the way you sat gave him an ample view of your cleavage. you asked softly, "you're not leaving mclaren, are you?"
"no.. i mean... no, no." lando seemed a little nervous answering.
you replied, "good. because i'd hate to see you go. i like our time together and well, i was hoping we'd have more time." you gave a soft smile, "you always were my favorite." then your eyes cast down to you half finished meal.
the sight of you, you almost looked vulnerable. sweet and soft, the kind of woman that lando wanted on his cock. he knew it was wrong, fucking the boss' daughter. but you were both adults. and your sweet words of praise only enticed him, made blood rush to his cheeks. colouring him pink.
you poked at the piece of pepper on your plate as you sighed, "don't leave me, lando. promise?"
he shifted in his seat and nodded dumbly. hook, line and sinker. he replied, "of course, i'd never leave you. who even told you i was thinking about it? because i wasn't."
you shrugged, "you know what rumours are like. hard to tell fact from fiction."
lando placed his arm across the table, palm up so you could hold his hand. delicately you placed your hand in his. he gave it a firm squeeze. not enough to cause damage, but to reassure you.
he said, "don't worry, beautiful. i'm not going anywhere. plus, i think i look a lot nicer in orange." he chuckled. any correspondence he had with the likes of alpine slipped out of his mind and replaced with thoughts of your beautiful smile and soft curves. alpine was nice, but the softness of your pussy was even better.
you ended up back at his place, he drove you both him with his hand on your thigh. every so often you caught him catching a glimpse at you.
"if you're worried about my father finding out. don't worry, he's not an over protective monster. if anything he'd be happy that one of his boys is taking such good care of me." you said.
"right, right. i just keep thinking that this is all a dream and i'm going to wake up with a mess in my boxers." he gave your thigh another squeeze as he went into the parking garage of the building he lived in.
his lips were on yours once you were in the elevator. he had you pressed against the mirrored glass with your thigh up against his waist and his fingers pushing the bottom of your dress skirt. his kisses were hungry, like a man on a mission.
and it made you run hot, this was better than expected. it seemed almost too easy, but you were happy that you got confirmation out of him that he was going nowhere.
you giggled against his lips, tasting the fine dining on them. when the elevator opened to his floor. he took you by the hand and led you out. once in his apartment, you pressed up against the side of the couch with the man's lips on you once more.
"you're something else, miss brown." he chuckled as his lips at your pulse point. he could feel your rapid heartbeat, his hands at your middle, feeling you up.
"and you're boring, mister norris?"
lando pulled away and grinned at you, "of course not. i just never thought someone like you would end up with a driver."
you laughed, "and what, let all the grid bunnies have fun? be for real!" you tried to get the zipper of the dress undone, but lando took over. he watched you undress once the zipper was pulled down.
you looked beautiful in the nude colour underwear you wore. you skin looked softer in the gentle lighting of the living room. you crossed your arms a little, a little embarrassed by your lack of clothes.
but lando took your arms away and said, "hey, nothing to be ashamed about. you're beautiful." then he started to undress as well. before it could go any further, he led you to the bedroom.
you practically bounced on the bed as you got onto it. and lando was quick to get the sheer tights off of you. his hands lingered around you left calf, giving it a squeeze which made you heart race.
you got out of your bra while he got out of his slacks. you swallowed harshly when you heard the jangle of his belt buckle. the heavy metal made you hot.
both of you were undressed and lando had you laid out on the bed. he wanted to look at you while you fucked. the intensity of the need for you made his brain run in circles. he got between your legs on the bed, his cock yearned for the softness of your wet pussy. he felt his heart skip when he dragged his hand up and down his length in anticipation.
you smiled at you, "lookin' good, norris."
he licked his lips, "of course, only for you." then guided his cock into you. he tensed up for a moment at the warmth, but soon relaxed once he got himself inside of you. heat flooded his cheeks further and the stagger in his heart gripped him.
"you look very handsome, lando. were you hoping you were going to get laid tonight."
he replied, "no, no. i just wanted to dress to impress you." he felt the twist in his gut at the sight of you. you looked so beautiful under him. as you pushed hair out of your face and felt him start to move. your mouth opened a little to moan.
you hid your face for a moment and smiled against your wrist, "well, i wanted the same. i just got so worried that you were halfway out the door with the team."
he moved against you, his cock touching some of your most sensitive areas. he hunched over you and groaned heavily. he was a loud one in the bedroom. he licked his lips as he gazed at your perfect form. he said, "i..i thought about it. ya know what it's like. it feels like everyone is dangling something in front of me. but, not you."
you hid your face a little more. while most were danging cars and money in front of lando's face. you were nude under him in his bedroom. as the bed squeaked under you.
"of course not, lando." you giggled, covering up your lie, "you know i'd still hold you very dear even if you went to another team." you gave him the sweetest look you could give him and it made him grin.
a little white lie wouldn't kill lando. not for the sake of the team. plus, his sweet noises only made warmth pool in your gut as he thrusted his hips.
you reached for him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. his face was up against your neck as you two moved in sync with one another. there was a fire burning in you. you cunt felt full in the best was possible.
"you feel like a dream." he admitted.
"and you feel just as nice." you said with suck softness. your little plan was working. you were winding lando up between your fingers. he wouldn't be going far after this.
you two kissed once more, it was less feverish. you felt the pleasure seep through your blood. you felt hot all over and your back felt sweaty against the navy blue sheets. you held onto his hair and softly scratched at his scalp, he moaned lazily into the kiss.
when he pulled away, he really started to work at your pussy. both of you were loud in the privacy of the his apartment. you held onto him tighter and you could hear his sweet praise.
"you're so fuckin' beautiful. i don't know why we didn't take the chance sooner. you look so good under me. the perfect girl. i was stupid for not seeing it sooner, like when we met. fuck. i need you, i want you."
lando's words were honey on your brain. you scratched into his shoulders as he continued to rut against you. your bodies moved in a quick yet steady rhythm. all building to the climax.
even in the depths of immense pleasure, you were patting yourself on the back for getting lando so pussy drunk that he was willing to stay with your father's team. you had concluded that you were a good seductress.
"lando."
"i know. i know. it all feels so good." he panted.
a few more heavy strokes of his cock and you were pulling him into a searing kiss. your legs locked around his waist. the kiss was messy and made a heat run through him. fuck, you felt amazing. you came with his cock stuffed into you and it was a head rush for you.
your heart hammered in your chest as you felt euphoria. lando took it as a chance to continue to drill his cock into you. his words were loose and messy, praise for you. it warmed you even more. he was close behind you and with his own climax it took the wind out of him. when he stopped thrusting, he got down beside you.
he was face planted into the soft covers of his bed, his cock throbbed and drooled a little bit of leftover cum. you chuckled at the sight and rolled over onto your stomach as well to throw an arm over his sweaty back.
you pulled him in for a kiss on the face and he made a sweet noise. he felt perfect and you felt achy in all the right ways. you thought that you had convinced him not to leave mclaren. to stay with the team and stay with you.
-
it turned out that it took more than one night to convince lando to stay. over the course of the summer break, he was constantly at your apartment. your little mission was a success but, also a failure.
a failure in the way that the birth control pill had a failure rate of 7%. lando stayed with mclaren, even signed a nice multi-year contract. it was hard to look at other teams when he was coming home to his beautiful future wife.
while it was a shocker to everyone, the news almost made your father break a blood vessel, it made sense. you two were around the same age, in the same circles. of course, lando norris was going to get you pregnant. but, it was worth it. the team was saved!
"i can feel him kicking." lando said softly.
except now you had a clingy fiance who was currently pressed up against your belly. his large hand across your middle as he practically melted. you had come to the conclusion that you sucked at the art of seduction, and that maybe your line of work should be a little different than trying to make deals with drivers under the table.
because most seductresses didn't end up very pregnant with a future formula one prodigy within a year.
#bunny writes#lando norris x reader#lando smut#lando x reader#lando norris#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula 1#reader insert#formula 1 fic#formula one#formula 1 rpf#formula one fanfiction#formula racing#f1 smut#f1 rpf#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic#ln4#ln4 smut#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic
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Snap - Chris Sturniolo
summary: when you apparently 'distract matt' while matt's driving chris snaps at you, he regrets his choice of words instantly when you get upset.
contains: angst, crying, makeup-sex, fluff, arguing, yelling, gentle!chris.
----------------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-------------------
i sit in the backseats of the sturniolos car, nick is to my left scrolling aimlessly on his phone and chris is in the passenger seat. the conversation in the car is quiet.
matt swings round a corner earning a small laugh from me,
"matt, can you turn up the music please?" i ask chirpily,
chris has been on edge the whole day, we've bickered countless times throughout the afternoon.
chris's jaw clenches as i repeat myself, "matt?"
"one second-" matt mutters while switching lanes,
i reach my arm out and turn up the volume myself, leaning over the center console from the backseat slightly.
the volume in the car raises, the headlights illuminate the road infront of us as i lean back into my chair.
"you don't have to turn up the music now, patience would be nice for a change." chris mumbles, i brush off his comment.
"do you know when we're gonna be home or not?" i ask softly, clutching my seatbelt restlessly as matt switches lanes again
then chris snaps.
"hes driving us safley to our fucking house!" chris yells, his voice booms throughout the car,
i've never heard chris yell like that, i've never heard chris yell in general.
"chris- shut up?" i bite back, my attitude kicking in
"stop distracting him!" chris screams at me, his head snaps back and looks at me over his shoulder, veins are visible on his pale forehead.
"shut up!" i yell back at him out of shock, my voice is shaking and i'm nowhere near as loud as chris.
"stop distracting him, you're fucking annoying!" chris shouts,
the whole car goes dead silent.
"you can not fucking talk to your girlfriend like that?" nick raises his voice at chris,
"i'll do what the fuck i want!" chris replies angrily.
"oh my god guys, stop? nobodys distracted and nobody is fucking annoying." matt says from the frontseat,
i take in shaky breathes, when i say that chris has never yelled like that before i mean it, my ears hurt.
nick wraps his arms around me, stroking my hair lightly. "i'm so sorry about him" nick whispers quickly,
the only thing i can do is nod, staring straight ahead at the back of chris's head.
i don't even realise i'm crying until i feel my cheeks become soaked, i take in a deep shaking breath.
the whole car is completely quiet as we pull into our street, not a word has been said since chris's outburst.
“dude stop fucking acting like i just punched her in the nose she’s fucking fine.” chris says from the front seat,
“watch yourself chris.” nick warns,
i see chris glare back at me, i wrap my arms around nick as we pull into our driveway, the painfully long drive is finally finished.
chris instantly pulls on the door handle to open it even though it’s locked
“unlock the door matt.” chris mutters
“bro when i unlock the door you are gonna go straight into your bedroom and sort your shit out.” matt raises his voice
chris’s jaw clenches as he looks out the window, matt unlocks the car door and chris instantly swings the door open, he slams his shut behind him and storms up the driveway.
the whole car goes silent with matt, nick and i in it, aside from the small sniffles coming from me.
“i’ve never seen him like that i’m so sorry.” nick sighs, i nod silently
“c’mon inside,” matt says, stepping out of the car and opening the door for me.
i step out onto the concrete of the driveway, the cold night air against my warm skin makes me shudder.
nick holds my hand as we walk up the steps of the front porch, chris didn’t leave the door open for us like usual.
matt fiddles around with the doorknob and finally creaks it open.
i step into the house and instantly grow warm again, i think it’s the fact the heatings on mixed with the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body.
“you can come stay in my room tonight.” nick whispers, almost dragging me down the corridor into his comforting room.
“have a good sleep!” matt calls out with a sympathetic sad smile on his face, “thank you matt.” i croak,
i flop down on nicks bed with a small sigh, nick jumps down next to me and tugs up the covers. i rest my head on his arm as i fight back more tears.
“you can let it out now, it’s just us.” nick whispers,
that’s enough for me to start sobbing, floods of tears fall down my cheeks.
“i’m sorry-“ my voice breaks, “i’ve just never really been yelled at like that.”
“i know, i don’t know what’s wrong with him and i’m so sorry.” nick sighs, he runs his hand through my hair as i continue to cry.
“he’s gonna fix this, i promise.” nick says softly, i nod into his arm.
-
i’ve been laying in nicks bed for around an hour, my tears have mostly stop due to the fact i’m so tired, too tired to keep crying.
my eyes flutter shut again,
abruptly i hear noises coming from matt’s room, they don’t sound like arguing but it doesn't sound.. normal.
i sit up in bed,
"dude- you know i cant sleep alone c'mon." i hear chris say with a shaky voice,
"yeah, well your fucking girlfriend would be in bed with you right now if you didnt scream at her for an hour." matt replies,
"so go back to your own room." matt follows up.
chris lets out a wobbling sigh, i hear the door to matts room slam shut followed by small footsteps coming down the corridor
i hear the footsteps grow closer to nicks room before a soft couple of knocks on the door, my heart drops as i lay back down in bed.
"what." nick calls out,
"can i speak to y/n, please-" chris almost whispers,
nick looks over at me, i hesitate before nodding.
i stand up out of bed and walk over to the door, i creak it open and im met with chris's face.
he kind of looks like a train wreck.
his lips are red and puffy, his eyes are swollen and bloodshot and his brunette locks are messy and hes avoiding eye contact.
"um- do you want to come to our room, i just want to talk to you- you dont have to though" chris stambles, tilting his head towards our room.
i nod, chris goes to reach for my hand then pulls back. i follow behind him up the corridor towards our shared bedroom.
he opens the door for me, i walk inside awkwardly, the silence is deafening.
i plop down on the bed and chris follows, he sits down a couple feet away from me and his gaze shifts towards me.
chris fidgets with his long fingers before his blue eyes meet mine.
"i'm so- sorry for what happened earlier-- i know i raised my voice, and i shouldn't have at all. it wasn't fair to you, and it wasn't right, i wasn't thinking straight." chris starts after a couple seconds of silence.
"i messed up, big time. i let my weird 'fuckin mood take over, and i directed it at you, which was completley uncalled for. i hate everything i did, and for making you cry, and yelling in general. you mean everything to me and im so so sorry."
"i dont even know what happened, it was like it wasn't me talking dude- i just love you so much and- and-" chris's voice breaks,
he brings his pale hands up to his flushed face and wipes his eyes.
"please forgive me" he says while running a hand through his hair.
i scoot over to chris and wrap my arms around his trembling body, the warmth of his body comforting me.
"i don't know why you yelled at me like that, but ill try to forget about it." i sigh, chris nods and burys his face into my chest.
i pull away from chris and take his face in my hands, his cheeks are a deep red and his lips are raw.
i press my lips to his softly, i wrap my arms around the back of his neck before straddling him.
i sit comfortably on his lap before shifting slightly,
suddenly chris lets out a low whimper into my mouth,
the kiss wasn't even sexual, there was no tongue, just lips pressed together.
i let out a small laugh,
i feel a poking against my inner thigh, "are you serious chris?" i giggle,
"i am so sorry- i don't know how that happened" chris says in a panicked tone
"how did you get hard from that?" i scoff, rubbing my eyes.
"i don't know." chris sighs, "ill go fix it just give me a couple minutes"
he goes to stand up off the bed but i pin him back down,
"don't say that? i'll make you feel better chris."
"i don't want you to have to do that, i don't want you to think i only apologised for sex-" chris rambles, i press a finger to his lips,
"i know that wasn't why you apologised." i assure him before lifting my baggy shirt off of my body,
chris's eyes gaze over my bare chest, i feel him grow fully hard.
"oh fuck" chris laughs slightly, i stand up off of chris's lap and shimmy my pyjama shorts down my legs.
i'm left in my light pink lace panties, which quickly follow in the pile of my clothes on the floor.
chris stands up off the bed and walks over to me, he picks me up by my ass and throws me down onto the bed. "are you sure?" chris asks, "yes chris." i smile
chris fidgets with the buckle of his belt, which keeps his baggy jeans up.
his discards his belt on the floor before unbuttoning his denim jeans. chris's jeans fall to the floor followed by his boxers,
letting his erection spring out, his tip taps his stomach before he stands between my thighs,
chris is usually a rough, fast sex kind of guy, but hes not acting like that today. he's being slow and his tough is so gentle.
he brushes his fingers over the hem of my panties before pulling them to the side. chris presses a light kiss to the inside of my thighs before standing back up.
"you ready sweetheart?" chris asks, tracing mindless shapes on my clit lightly.
"yeah-" i reply
chris lines himself up with me before pressing his tip inside of me,
he lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he enters me, i sink my top teeth into my bottom lip with a small moan.
chris presses further of his length inside of me, stretching my walls around him, "you feeling okay?" chris whispers, grabbing my waist lightly.
"feels.. really good" i breathe.
chris finally bottoms out, i feel his tip lightly press against my cervix before he almost pulls out again, then presses back inside of me.
he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, i moan into his mouth as his thrusts continue.
chris pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead to mine, his brunette hair resting on my bare forehead.
chris uses his free hand to move some of my hair away from my eyes, i feel his tip repeatedly brush against my g-spot.
with every thrust he hits that spot, earning louder moans from me.
"oh chris!" i whine, arching my back off the bed as his pace picks up a little bit.
"you're taking me so well, feel so good around my dick." chris praises me, knowing i love it when he praises me.
chris reaches his hand down between where our body meets and presses his hand onto my lower stomach.
"feel me right there?" chris asks,
he pushes deep inside of me causing a obvious stomach bulge, my mouth falls open as i feel my mind fog
"fuck chris- oh my god im so close" i babble out, "keep doing that- please"
chris lets out a low laugh, "im close aswell pretty girl"
chris reaches further down and rubs my clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure.
and thats enough to send me over the edge.
i feel an intense amount of pleasure wash over me, "chris!" i call out, clenching around his length as i release.
chris pulls out of me and strokes himself a couple of times before finishing on my stomach "oh god.." chris groans, throwing his head back.
he flops down on the bed before pulling me onto his stomach, "i love you so much." chris breathes out deeply,
"i love- you to." i pant,
chris lets out a small laugh before reaching his hand to my stomach, he wipes his cum off of me with a grimace on his face.
"sorry that was kind of gross." chris laughs.
"it was hot." i correct him.
chris sits up and carrys me over to the couch in his room, he sits me down on it before digging through his closet.
chris pulls out a shirt of his and some sweatpants, he brings them over to me and tugs the sweatpants up my legs and pulls the shirt onto me.
"you're so pretty." chris smiles, "dont be boosting my ego now chris." i joke
"its truee thoughh" he replies.
"you're so stupid." i say, my cheeks going red.
"you're flustered so somethings clearly working." he grins, helping me up off the couch.
"it doesnt matter, i need water." i giggle,
chris reaches for his bedroom door and opens it for me, i step out into the corridor and grab chris's hand,
we walk down the corridor together into the kitchen where nick is sat,
he looks up at us with a small sigh
"glad to hear you two made up" nick groans dramatically,
"what?" chris says, his eyebrows furrowing.
"chris. all i could hear for the past 20 minutes was 'chriss dont stop' it was a living hell." nick says holding back a laugh,
my eyes widen,
"you guys are gross" nick smiles with an eye roll, nick walks past us out of the kitchen and punching chris in the arm.
"chris-" i protest,, my face red.
"hey- to be fair you were quite loud..."
-------------------
BRO BILLIES NEW ALBUM SENT ME TO HEAVEN I SWEAR, also i saw this mega fucking hot guy at the supermarket today like im talking hotter than matt sturniolo deadass.
@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover r @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @cristiana-heartzzchris @chrissturnsss @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall
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simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.
gambling's illegal, you know.
thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.
a veterinarian.
good thing we're all dogs here, then.
he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.
seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.
what, did they guy like steal them or something?
no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.
incredible. (that's insane.)
he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.
lemme take ya out, love—
don't call me that.
and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—
stop talking, simon.
and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.
a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)
with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."
he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"
always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"
the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.
there's never any rest for the wicked.
"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"
the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.
"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."
you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"
his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."
he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"
"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.
"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.
the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.
"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.
black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"
simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."
you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."
he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"
his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."
johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.
pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."
you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"
he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"
"stop talking, simon."
johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.
--
this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.
simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.
even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.
"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.
pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.
simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.
heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.
he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.
"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.
johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."
he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.
oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.
"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.
simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"
he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."
you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.
"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.
"shit, let me go get my medbag."
he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."
a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.
"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.
"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."
you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon riley x reader
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Steve knew that one day he wouldn't be able to refuse to play dnd.
Especially since he was now dating a dragons master or whatever it's called. He can't keep up with all the names.
And don't get him wrong Eddie is great and dnd sounds sort of interesting but he's been against playing for so long he doesn't want to give up the act.
But he if was going to give up the act he was going to get something in return.
The kids were all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night.
They had 2 different kinds of movie night, one where they all actually watched movies and the other where the movie was just there for background noise while everyone either talked or worked on something.
Tonight Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin were making character sheets for Eddie's new campaign while trying to get Steve to join as well.
"Just play one campaign" Dustin whined for the 20th time that night. And probably the 100th time in his life.
"Are you ever going to let this go?"
"No! You have to play one now that you're dating Eddie. Aren't couples supposed to try out each other's hobbies?" He got him there.
"He's got a point Stevie," Eddie says finally engaging in the conversation after being glued to the TV. Despite the volume being low he was still watching it with intense interest.
"You're right, couples should try each other's hobbies" Steve agreed.
"Uh oh," Robin says without looking up from the puzzle she was going with Nancy, knowing what he was going to say next since he ran his plan through her first.
"I will play a campaign but!" He says before the kids could get too excited, "you all have to play basketball with me"
They all groaned. Except Lucas who was completely fine with this arrangement.
-
It was Saturday and they were all at basketball court in the park. Most of them were wearing their gym clothes.
Except for Lucas and Steve who actually had basketball jerseys.
Max and el were also playing since they wanted to join despite the fact they won't play dnd either.
And who was he to say no to them? The more the merrier.
Robin and Nancy were sitting at the bench in the shade, Robin saying she refuses to play a sport because she's too clumsy and Nancy saying Robin shouldn't have to sit alone. But Steve knows they just want to talk shit about them.
He wasnt going to stop them, he knew it was a lost cause to try to get them to join as well.
The only rule they had before playing was that Steve and Lucas couldn't be on the same team, 'it wouldn't be fair' Dustin said and everyone else agreed. Even Robin and Nancy.
So they ended up being the team captainsin on each team.
Steve's team was Max, Mike, and El while Lucas had Will, Dustin, and Eddie.
And it was going well! Better than Steve thought it would. Especially with how unathletic most of them were.
Steves team was winng, and despite Dustin whinning about how it was because Steve was older and had more experience he hasn't even made all the points.
He did score the first point but El scored the last 2.
It's was 3 to 1. The only point they had was from Lucas. Eddie couldn't throw for shit, Dustin kept dropping the ball, and Will was actually doing pretty well but was kinda being ignored because Lucas and Dustin wouldn't stop arguing.
He can tell eddie was getting annoyed with having to constantly break up their fights.
Their team only needed one more point to win and Mike had the ball.
"Pass it to me!" He yells towards Mike and he does pass it to him. Just way too hard.
Because it goes past his hands and right towardd his face. Smacking him hard in the nose and knocking him over.
He hears everyone gasp as he groans on the ground.
He heard the tapping of people feet on concrete, and on grass, get close to him.
"Holy fuck are you okay?" Despite his eyes being closed he can easily tell that's Eddie's voice.
"Damn Mike why did you throw it so hard" he hears max says. He also hears a light punch but doesn't comment on it this time.
"I didnt mean to!"
"I'm okay" Steve says while getting up, grabbing his nose when he felt something on his lip. Blood, of course.
"That would've been a great throw if I was a little bit farther from you," he says towards Mike as Eddie helps him off the floor and leads him to the bench despite saying he was okay to keep playing.
Everyone gather arounds him as El hands him some of the napkins she keeps in her pocket.
"If this is how you all act everytime someone gets hurt it's going to get extremely annoying as we keep playing" Everyone makes weird faces, except for Robin who was grinning.
And Nancy because Robin definitely told her.
He smiles. "You guys are going to want me to play more than one campaign, so you will all be playing more games of basketball."
While Lucas smiled, everyone else groaned.
#i like the thought of them all playing basketball together#lucas was definitely happy he got to play basketball with his friends#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#steddie#implied ronance#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#will byers#max mayfield#el hopper#nancy wheeler
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