#this would make a sick trailer you know it would

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[harknessxo]

I’ve Missed You

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought. (This is also based on the one clip of Rio pinning Agatha to the wall.)

Warnings; kidnapping, magical manipulation, manipulation, metal abuse, fingering, strap on use (r receiving), mommy kink.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: All these Agatha All Along trailers and teaser have motivated me to write after four months. I am so ecstatic for it to come out already! I have waited two years for this! 😭

You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. You told her everything about Agatha’s sick plan and Wanda then was able to trick Agatha and put her under spell, trapping her in Westview. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. She even casted runes around the house.

A couple months after those events you found out about Wanda’s death. You grieved her death little, she was the closest thing you had to a friend ever since Agatha stripped you from your friends and family, but most of all you felt fear. Fear that Agatha would come out of the spell and go looking for you especially because Wanda’s runes had disappeared.

You were paranoid for months until you had confirmation that she was still in Westview under the spell. You spent the next three years in hiding. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought.

It was around mid day when you found yourself in the kitchen making some coffee. You were just wearing a robe and your hair was laying wild over your shoulders. As you were pouring the milk into your coffee, you heard a noise outside. You frowned and walked over to the window and saw nothing. As you were about to get back to your coffee, you heard it again. You grabbed a knife and walked over to the front door. Before you could even open it, the door burst over and someone pinned you against the wall, making you drop the knife.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” That voice…you hadn’t heard it in so long, it made your skin crawl.

“A-agatha?” your voice trembled as you said her name. You looked into her eyes, she looked the same, she hadn’t aged a day yet she looked older in a way. Maybe it was the dark circles that laid under her eyes. She gave you a sinister smile moving her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“You look as beautiful as the day you left me.”

“How did you free yourself? And how did you find me-”

“I had some help,” she simply said, moving her hand to your neck and squeezing lightly, “I didn’t appreciate you betraying me and running away. Did you really think you could get away from me?” she pouted mockingly.

“Agatha please-” you wrapped your hand around her wrist.

“Say that again, you know how much I love to hear you beg.”

“P-please don’t hurt m-me…” your voice cracked. You were terrified of this woman’s power, of what she could do. Agatha dismissed your pleas and started kissing down your neck, surprisingly gentle.

“God, I missed you so much,” her hand sneaked underneath your robe to grip onto your waist, “Wanda did quite the number on me but now she’s not here to save you,” she whispered harshly into your ear and a tear silently ran down your cheek.

“Shh, baby, there's no need to cry,” she wiped the tear away, “I promise to take my time with you.” She started dragging you to your bedroom and you just let her, you knew better than to fight back. She pushed you on your bed and started undressing. Even if she was manipulative she was still very attractive. Something you would never admit. When she was done, she crawled on top of you, still leaving your robe on.

“Look at me,” she said when you looked everywhere but her. You just wanted this to be over with. “I said look at me,” she demanded, cupping your face, making you look at her. Usually when you looked into her eyes, all you saw was lust and possessiveness but this time, there was something different.

“Tell me you missed me, Y/n. Tell me you missed my touch.” she pleaded. This was very out of character for her. She never showed vulnerability. Ever. Yet, here she was asking you if you missed her as if her life depended on it.

“I…” she started to kiss your neck again, nipping at it, “I missed you too,” you finally said. It wasn’t a complete lie, a small part of you did miss her. She did kidnap you but she still took care of you and gave you everything you had ever wanted.

“Good girl~” she finally started to untie your robe.

“Aggie-” you tried to protest, gripping into her wrist but she pinned your hand above your head with her magical binds.

“Shh, just relax,” she took off your robe, leaving you completely bare, “I’m going to take care of you.”

“All you do is h-hurt me…”

“That’s because you disobeyed me. I had to discipline you,” she said, manipulating you into thinking it was your fault, “If only you just did as you were told, I wouldn't have had to hurt you bunny…” she softly ran her nails down your waist and hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You remained quiet, not saying a word as her fingers moved closer to your core.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself again,” she finally dipped her fingers into your wetness, chuckling at the fact that you were absolutely soaked for her. She started to slowly circle your clit, her breath hot against your ear.

“You were always so ready for me, baby. Your body still remembers me.” You whimpered when the pleasure caught up to you. You hadn’t touched yourself for so long. Your thoughts undoubtedly went to Agatha every time you tried so you gave up trying to find relief.

She chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by your whimpers. She started to move her fingers faster, applying more pressure to your clit.

“I bet you haven’t touched yourself since you left me. You were too afraid to think about me, weren’t you?”

“…yes.” You replied, biting your lip when she sped up her movements.

“That’s what I thought. You knew that no one could make you feel as good as I do. No one can satisfy you like I can,” she smiled and leaned down to suck on your neck, leaving a dark spot.

“N-no one can…” You said, your brain turning into mush as she slipped her fingers inside you.

“I’m the only one who knows you better than you know yourself. You can barely take care of yourself, baby. You need me.” Agatha was doing what she knew best, manipulating you. She could put you under her spell again but she wanted you to willingly submit to her. She could feel your body starting to tense up as she continued to work her fingers inside you. She moved her lips to your jaw, placing gentle kisses along the way.

“You’re so close, aren’t you baby? Do you remember the rules?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, tugging at the binds slightly.

“What do you say then?” she slowed down her movements, loving to see you so desperate for her touch.

“Can I cum please?”

“Beg me, baby. I want to hear you beg for me.”

“Please mommy? I promise to be a good girl!” And there it was. She finally had you exactly where she wanted you. She smirked at your words, her eyes darkened with lust.

“That’s my good girl. You always know how to please me. Cum for me, baby. Cum for mommy.” She freed your hands and you clung to her as you rode your high, moving your hips against her hand. She spoke sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you before finally pulling her fingers out and kissing your forehead. You thought it was over until you felt something poking your entrance again.

“Mommy?” You mumbled again, trying to clench your thighs together. She smiled and gently caressed your face.

“I’m not done with you yet, baby. You still have a lot to make up for~”

“No more-” you tried to push her away but she didn’t budge. She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t tell me no, darling. You’re going to be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Understood? Don’t you want mommy to feel good too?” She started rubbing the tip of her enchanted strap against your pussy lips. She’d fucked you with the strap many times and she could feel everything which is why it was her favorite toy to use on you.

“But I’m too sensitive.” You whined.

“You can handle it, baby,” she chuckled and slowly pushed the tip of the strap inside you, “You’ve done it before…” she started to move her hips, pushing the strap deeper inside you. The strap slipped right in, your juices making it quite easy.

“Fuck, baby. You still feel so fucking tight. You’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl~” Agatha groaned. Your pained whimpers soon turned into pleasurable moans and the knot in your stomach started to build up again. She continued to thrust into you, her movements becoming more erratic as she felt her own pleasure building up. She leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Keep making those pretty sounds for me. I want to hear you scream my name when you cum.”

“A-Aggie-“ You dug your nails onto her back. She let out a low growl, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Say it again, baby. Say my name again.”

“Agatha!” You came again, your pussy pulsing around her strap as your legs started to shake. Agatha let out a moan as she felt you cum around her strap, her own orgasm washing over her. She continued to thrust into you a few more times before pulling out and collapsing on top of you.

“That’s my good girl. You did so well, baby,” she started petting your hair as if you were a pet. She pulled you closer, holding you in her arms. She ran her fingers through your hair, her voice soft.

“You’re mine and no one else’s. You’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understand? You don’t want mommy to have to hurt for not listening, do you?” You frantically shook your head, burning your face in her neck. She gripped your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at her.

“I said, do you understand? You will do as I say. You will obey me. You are mine to control and use as I please. Don’t make me punish you, baby.”

“I u-understand…” your eyes watered a bit, now you were really trapped. She smiled and released your hair, her hand gently stroking your cheek.

“Good girl. I knew you would see things my way. You’re so much more compliant when your brain is turned into mush, isn’t that right? Maybe I’ll have to fuck you more often so you don’t fight me,” she kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to her, wrapping her arms around you possessively. Agatha held you tightly, enjoying the feeling of having you in her arms again. She ran her fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. She could see the gears turning in your head and spoke up again.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to love being mine again. And I’ll take good care of you, I promise. You won’t want anything as long as you’re with me…”

[cherrywade]

"Do you think Eddie likes me?" The question leaves Steve's mouth absently, like an afterthought. Wayne watches his shoulders tense as he holds the cabnet door up. His eyes are on the floor. His cheeks going red. Wayne hums genlty, trying not to laugh in Steve's face. If he only knew.

Instead he sits with the question for a moment, keeps working, tightening the screws till they're snug. He nods at Steve, he lets go. Wayne swings the door back and forth a few times. No squeaks. And it doesn't fall off into his hands. He and Steve both nod at the same time, satisfied, Steve's hands dropping to his hips.

"Does he bite you?" Wayne asks, trying to sound as thoughtful as Steve had with his question. Steve stares at him. Wayne raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie. Does he ever bite you?" He repeats, giving Steve a pointed look.

"Oh! Um.. he... yeah? S-sometimes." Steve stammers a bit, his brow furrowing as he rubs at the back of his neck. And then his hand falls to his shoulder. And then drops by his side and clenches. Wayne smiles.

"You ever heard'a cuteness aggression?" Wayne asks, putting his tools back into their box and stashing it on top of the fridge. Steve shakes his head and frowns again. Wayne nods, motions for the small table and sits, Steve following him and sitting across from him.

"Well what I understand of it, and I'm getting this information from Eddie so... take it as you will." Steve smiles, a knowing look passing his face as he nods, and yeah, this kid has it bad for his boy.

"It's when someone thinks something is so cute it makes them violent. And Ed's got it bad. Took him ages to get it under control. What do you think happened to Gilberts ear?" Wayne nods toward the couch where their chunky brown tabby cat is napping. He looks up at the mention of his name and meows inquisitively.

"Oh my god what?!" Steve gasps, his hand jumping to cover his mouth. Wayne snorts.

"I'm just messin with ya kid. He was like that when Ed found him." Wayne smiles. Steve looks at him, straight faced, unimpressed. One of Eddie's favorite looks to wax poetic about.

"Very funny." He says dryly. Wayne chuckles, taps his hand on the table and says,

"I thought so. Anyway, point is. If that boy's teeth have sunk into you at some point. Odds are he likes ya just fine." Wayne smiles warmly, watches the gears turning in Steve's head, his brow furrowing and then relaxing as his mouth drops open in a little "O".

"So he'd say yes. If I- I mean if I wanted to-" he watches Steve swallow nervously.

"If you asked him out. Yes. I believe he would say yes." Wayne just watches Steve, takes a sip of his coffee. Steve nods to himself.

"Okay. Okay cool. I can do this. Awesome. Thank you!" He'd stood, hands wiping at his thighs, patting down his pockets, looking for his keys, before startling and turning back to Wayne to thank him.

"They're on the table by the door. And you're welcome son." He took another sip.

"And Steve?" He calls as Steve's hand hits the door, the boy turns to look at him, wide eyed.

"Yeah?"

"He can be a little... dense. When it comes to these things. Best to be forward. To the point." Wayne nods again, gives Steve a knowing look. Watches as his head tilts like a puppy as he processes.

"Forward. To the point. Okay. I got this." Steve said, nodding, to himself really, before darting out the door.

Wayne shakes his head, smiles as he cleans out his coffee cup and hopes that he'd done right by his boy. He couldn't take much more of Eddie's love sick puppy eyes. And Steve had been doing them for a few months now as well, and it was all too much. It had to be done.

~*~

Three hours later the trailer door slams open and Eddie rushes in. Steve hot on his heels, hand locked in Eddie's as he drags him down the hall.

"Evening boys." Wayne says, nonchalant, from his place near the stove, leaning against the counter.

"Hi Wayne!" Steve calls, happy and polite.

"No!" Eddie says, points at Steve aggressively and then to Wayne.

"No more talking! You two have talked enough today!" He half yells, and then drags Steve into his room, both of them laughing. His door slams shut. And then promptly opens again. Eddie bounds into the little kitchen, right into Wayne's space, and nearly tackles him in a tight hug.

Wayne squeezes him back, feels Eddie's lips press gently against his shoulder and then he's gone. Twirling away from his uncle's hold.

"Thanks Wayne." He says, his eyes bright and shining, his cheeks dimpled with happiness, and, right along his jaw, the imprint of teeth. A bitemark. Right on his face.

Wayne nods, and smiles as Eddie disappears into his room again. He can hear them talking and laughing through the wall as he makes dinner. Dinner for three now. As it has been for months.

He cooks. And he thinks. Three hours later and Steve still had to bite him to get his point across. Wayne shakes his head, smiling as he breaks the noodles and tosses them into the water, happy that his boys were finally happy.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Okay but forreal… how would it go down if babydoll’s dad caught trailer park!rafe defiling his precious daughter 😫 I can just imagine him getting more suspicious about the time his daughter is gone and one day he catches her walking into Rafe’s trailer and barges in their to see her getting absolutely defiled and disgraced by Rafe who would just smirk and be like “think it’s about time we tell him he’s gonna be a grandpa or what?” UGHHH HE’S SO MEAN I LUV HIM

uh oh 🤭

With you being pregnant, you had been spending nearly all your time over at Rafe’s. You weren’t very far along, your bump barely noticeable to most. You were in your own little world, happy as can be to be pregnant with Rafe’s baby and very hormonal. You were even more clingy with him, nearly had a meltdown when he left to go get beer one night and needed dick all the time.

Your father had been growing a little suspicious of you here recently as you seemed to never be home anymore. It was now the third day this week you hadn’t been at the trailer when he had gotten off work and he couldn’t get past it. So much so he got in his truck and began slowly driving down the road to see if you were around the park anywhere. Surely he had nothing to worry about and you were just finishing up handing out the cookies you liked to make for everyone.

He was about to turn around when he spotted a flash of pink at one of a familiar trailer. His eyes widened in a flash of horror as he saw you walking into the run down dump that was Rafe Cameron’s. The same man that never paid rent on time, had a major attitude problem and got drunk all day off of cheap beer. What was his innocent daughter doing anywhere around that piece of trash? Your father didn’t know what he had expected to see when he barged in Rafe’s trailer door, but it definitely wasn’t you on that filthy man’s lap doing things he never thought you would ever partake in. He didn’t even have words to process the sight he saw in front of him.

You were so incredibly needy, Rafe’s huge cock stretching your leaking hole as he whispered dirty words in your ear. His large hands gripped your waist that was barely starting to round out, reminding himself you were indeed knocked up with his baby. He smiled at the thought, facial hair tickling your neck as you threw your head back against his broad shoulder. “Such a desperate little thing for cock now that I got you pregnant, huh?” His voice rough as you had barely walked through the front door before he had your pretty little pink dress up as you were begging to be filled.

It was the door slamming open that made his blue eyes look up an instant look of gratification on his face as he saw your father standing there in shock. You were so cock drunk too, that you couldn’t do anything but sit there and continue to take it up your fluttering cunt. He let out a small laugh, staring the old man right in the face as he continued to thrust upward. He was sick for doing this, but then again really gave zero fucks. He wanted this to happen, to finally show that miserable bastard that he had ownership of your sugary sweet self now.

“Well look who it is babydoll. Takin’ a bad man’s dick up your little fuckhole for your pops to finally see. Should we tell him he’s gonna be a grandpa?” Rafe’s voice raspy as your beautiful moans still echoed off the trailer walls. Oh he had you completely ruined and he was loving every dirty second of it. Here you were taking dick up your pretty cunt that he had broken open and nutted into, now to only be a hormonal mess that couldn’t get anything out but “Fuck me..”

[crookedteethed]

18+ Thinking about giving Eddie head while Wayne's giving him a talking to.

Eddie shuts his eyes tight and lets out a long exasperated sigh as he feels your dainty hand grip the base of his cock. Your eager mouth, which had been planting delicate kisses around the supple skin of his thighs to the happy trail of his stomach, finally makes there way to his eager cock.

Wayne thinks he has an attitude, which resulted in Wayne telling Eddie:

"You keep huffin' and puffin' like that and you'll end up without a roof under your head, boy, you hear me?"

By Wayne's serious tone and stern demeanor, you would think Eddie had called him every swear word out of the book and then some, but really, Eddie hadn't said a word to Wayne from now until Wayne first angrily stomped into the trailer door shouting Eddie's name; telling Eddie that he has to take on more responsibility in the house other than sitting at home and playing his guitar all day (and having sex with his girlfriend, which he'd been doing all day).

Adults have this way of thinking (especially during lectures) where they can't differentiate the chasm between silence and having an "attitude."

Eddie knew he couldn't say anything to Wayne. Fermenting saliva had been collecting in his mouth since he first felt your hands tugging on the elastic of his sweatpants. Wayne would kick him out if drool spilled from his mouth when Eddie went to speak.

A glob of your spit coax Eddie's cock. You begin rimming your tongue around Eddie's mushroom-shaped tip, licking and sucking whatever pre-cum is leaking from his hole, occasionally taking long, bold strides from his base and back to his tip.

"I--" Eddie begins, but he's cut off when he feels your plump lips wrap around his tip and start sucking him gently. He splurges himself in the mixture of warmth and moisture coming from your mouth. He melts into the hollowness of your cheeks and the swivel of your tongue.

You splurge yourself at the effects you hold over him. Though you feel bad, not wanting to get the boy in any more trouble than he's already in.

Eddie grips his fist at the mound of pillows and blankets that conveniently covers his entire lower half.

Wayne notices and says, "I hope you're not trying to hold back a fist."

What Eddie was trying to do was hold back a moan.

"No--Wayne--I." His voice comes out in deprived little fragments-- like a scratched disc.

"Well, what?" Wayne says, agitated.

You get ballsy and attempt to deep-throat him; as you inch his swollen length closer and closer to the back of your throat, Eddie feels that particular spot where his glans slip past your tonsils, and he feels the gushes of your saliva caused by him pooling around your mouth.

"Fuck." Eddie says, almost in a whisper.

"What did you say, boy?" Wayne urges. "Nothing."

You try your best not to make any sounds, tears streaming down your cheeks from holding back, but when Eddie slightly bucks his hips up, you find yourself gagging around his length. Eddie covers the delicious sound of you sputtering with a fake cough.

It was an intense feeling of worship for Eddie, and he needed to get Wayne off his case so he could at least witness you taking his cum down your throat.

"Look, Wayne." He pauses. "I'll do more work around the house. I can--grunts—even pick up a few more shifts at the hideout, if you'll like."

Eddie doesn't know how he got through all that without blowing his cover, but he was hoping he wouldn't have to go through that again and praying that Wayne would just leave.

Wayne stays silent--not for too long, but long enough to make Eddie think he had blown his cover, and Wayne knew that his nephew was getting blown under his covers.

But with a simple nod and a "ok." (Wayne didn't need much convincing), Eddie could forget his worrying (accompanied by the excitement that came from worrying).

Wayne finds himself standing at the door of Eddie's room. Before leaving for work, he asks Eddie if he's sick or something.

"You're sweatin' buckets and you're coughin' a lot." Wayne states.

You bring yourself back to the tip of Eddie's cock and, in a bobbing motion, bring yourself down back to his base; at this point, all Eddie could do was nod his head and let out a shaky "un hun."

When Wayne announces he's leaving and you both hear the trailer's front door shut, you pull the covers over your head.

You pull him out of your mouth to catch your breath; saliva drips from your mouth onto your chin, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, and those lips, those puffy red lips, twisting into an alluring smile.

"You think that's funny, don't you? Blowing me in front of my uncle?"

"Oh, please, you enjoyed it." You tease.

And you were right; he did enjoy it, the excitement bubbling down in his stomach at the thought of getting caught. That's why every time you were at his trailer, and you two were having sex, Eddie made sure to leave his bedroom door wide open and have his windows just cracked; then he'd have his music blaring loud so he couldn't hear anyone if they were to walk in.

[a-small-safe-place]

New Addition

Platonic!Yandere Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham w/ Child!Reader

You knocked on the door of the large house Hannibal had picked out for him and Will to live in. It was out of the way from the town, so it was odd to receive a knock. Luckily, it was Will that answered rather than Hannibal. The other kids in town said the men who lived in this house liked to kidnap badly behaving girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. But this man didn’t seem scary. He seemed nice as he scolded their dogs for running out of the house.

“Hello, mister, I’m selling chocolate-covered pretzel sticks for my school and wanted to see if you would like to buy one?” You asked, trying to sound confident but sounding shaky instead. He didn’t seem to mind; he seemed happy you were there. “I happen to love chocolate-covered pretzels, but my husband thinks they are too simple to be a good treat. Let’s see what flavors you have.” He begins looking through the flavors you brought when his husband, Hannibal, silently walks up behind the other man. “Who is this?” He asks Will.

“Oh, this is… uh…” You stop him and introduce yourself and again explain why you are there. “This is quite a ways away from the town; surely you did not walk all the way here.” Hannibal questions. “No, sir, I rode my bike. I knew there were a few houses out this way, and I was determined to visit.”

Your determination pleases Hannibal but slightly concerns him. You’re an innocent child. You can’t be out riding your bike on these secluded roads. Will quits digging in the pretzel box, “I have to go get dog food anyway; I could bring you back to town. We will take the whole box of your pretzels since you came all this way out here.” Hannibal seems mildly annoyed by this. You remember that Will said Hannibal thinks they are too simple. Will leaves you alone with Hannibal to grab some cash. “Would you like to step inside? You’ll get sick out there.” Hannibal asks. You gratefully step in. “Your home is pretty.” You observe, earning a soft approving smile from Hannibal.

“Thank you, not many people your age appreciate style. Though you don’t seem like many people your age.” After he finishes talking, you try to stay quiet, and finally, Will returns, giving you the money for your entire box of pretzels. “Now I’m heading into town; would you like a ride?” Will offers. “Yes, please.” You tell him.

The ride back is quiet until he begins to talk. “Most kids avoid our house for their fundraisers. Do you know why?” You glance nervously, “I think it’s just too far.” It’s an obvious lie. “You don’t have to worry about being polite. I know there’s probably a crazy rumor about Hannibal and me.” You stay silent, but the silence is too loud to handle, “All the kids think you and Dr. Lecter like to kidnap and girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I needed all those sweet pretzels, so Dr. Lecter and I could finish building our cottage made of candy.” He seems a little sad at the revelation of this rumor. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.” He smiles and says, “Don’t worry about it. You could make it up to me by telling me how this rumor got started.”

“One of the boys that graduated high school last year told his little brother that he broke into your home on a dare and found human meat in the freezer, but he couldn’t go to the police because he was trespassing and he was high.” You finish explaining. Will smiles a bit, but it has a nervous edge this time, “Do you think we eat bad girls and boys?” You think about it, “no, because you had a bunch of times where you could have killed and eaten me.”

“Are you a bad kid?” Will asks teasingly. “I don’t know. I get in trouble sometimes. My house is in town away, in a trailer park.” Will knew which trailer park. It was “the bad part of town” he knew because he saw the crime statistics for that area and the number of times the cops are called out there. He had seen them the few times he and Hannibal helped with the local law. Hannibal had gotten close with the town’s political figures, and Will had basically been made into an honorary detective with the law enforcement. This town was corrupt to its core, but it was away from the prying eyes of the FBI, and it’s the only place Hannibal and Will could agree on geographically. Will’s only stipulation was that there were good places to fish.

Eventually, you make it to the trailer. Will waits until you make it inside. He cannot help but think about Abigail. He could have had a potential family with Hannibal if things had gone correctly. He was happy with Hannibal and the dogs, but something about you made him want more.

Weeks pass, and he does not bring the topic up to Hannibal. Little did he know Hannibal had been keeping an extra close eye on you. He did it under the guise of getting more pretzels for Will and then special ordering one of the unique flavors that you did not have so he could come back around to "check on the order." Will finds this all out when you see him in the store and give him the order Hannibal had placed.

"That kid from the other day gave me the order you placed," Will says placing the box on the table. "I thought you hated junk food."

"I do; they were a surprise for you. You seem to have taken a liking to the child." Hannibal observes. "They're a good kid. They kind of remind me of Abigail." The room becomes silent for a second too long. Hannibal hates it when Will brings up Abigail. "You seem to like the kid too. You went out of your way to find them to order the pretzels when there were plenty of easier options to order from." Hannibal knows he has been caught.

"They're a well-behaved child, very polite. Like Abigail." Hannibal says somewhat pointedly. "Have you thought about us expanding our family? Not with another dog, but with a human?" Hannibal asks before Will has time to respond to the first statement.

"I hadn't, and then that kid came knocking at the door, and since then, it is all I can think about. But I don't want any kid. Our kid from the trailer park seems to be the best fit; it has to be them." Will explains, hoping that Hannibal will understand.

"Then so be it; they will be our child for us to protect," Hannibal says as if this is a normal conversation.

As the two men begin to work on a plan to add you to their family, their fatherly love for you grows more into fatherly obsession. You're their kid; no one gets to hurt you. Once you're safe and comfortable in their home, no one but them will get to be around you until they know you love them just as much. Hannibal wastes no time putting your room together with all of your favorite things. They were going to make your room the same way it is in the trailer until Hannibal saw the state of your room and became disgusted by the idea of that kind of room being in his expensive house.

Will tries to make a plan to make your transition to their house easier. He finds all kinds of games and activities you are sure to love, even the ones that Hannibal is convinced are bad for your growing brain.

[elliesmainhoe]

Robin buckley, who is OBSESSED with the reader, and gets shy and giggly, please 🥰

Puppy Love

Robin Buckley x Fem! reader

Summary: Robin thinks you're the cutest thing to walk this earth.

Warnings: none.

Robin could feel her heartbeat through her chest, a fast pounding that picked up the pace at the sound of light knocks at her trailer door. she exhaled softly, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety as she smoothed down her hair and jacket.

she didn't know why she still felt this way, you'd been her girlfriend for coming up a year now and she thought that her feelings would fade. that's what the movies said should happen when you're a teenager.

you fall in love, become infatuated, get bored and then the feelings fade. puppy love is what they called it.

her hand tugged open the door, a giddy smile plastered on her face. "hiya baby." she hummed, arms wrapping round your waist. "hey robs" you whispered back, nuzzling your face into her hair, the smell of her strawberry scented shampoo immediately making your body relax.

"I took some tapes from work, we can watch one and eat popcorn? I think I've got a spare pack in the back of the cupboard somewhere' she says, moving to take your coat from you and hanging it up by the door. "yeah that sounds great robs"

she watches as you sit down, smiling at her as she kneels in front of you and begins unlacing your shoes. Robin had made a point of telling you that she enjoys doing the simple things for you. like taking your coat, helping you take off your shoes, getting you drinks. a true gentlewoman.

a few minutes later, she approached the couch where you lay sprawled out, the remote to the TV in your hand as a tape of 'The Karate Kid' plays and places a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table before sitting next to you.

you press a chaste kiss to her lips, feeling her smile press up against you. another to her left cheek, in which she instinctively places a hand on the small of your back. one against the now rosy red tip of her nose, drawing out a giggle from her. and finally her forehead.

"god baby, you're so pretty" she smiled, freckled cheeks rosy as a love sick glint in her eyes shine as they locked with yours.

"nah, you're much prettier" you reply, making her look away bashfully, another giggling fit coming from her. you scoff and roll your eyes.

'no, this wasn't puppy love', you thought, I don't think this will ever fade.

[ashwhowrites]

I just watched clips of megan fox in transformers. Pleasee can you write Eddie x older hot neighbour that he instantly smitten on from the first day she moved in. But he is embarrassed thinking it wasn't appropriate, so he always tiptoeing around. Wayne grown sick of eddie's antics and encourage him to properly pursue her. Eddie who is previously insecure of himself being inadequate for a mature woman, turns to be a great young father.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The older woman

Eddie was minding his own as he worked on his cigarette. But his ears perked up as he heard the sound of a truck driving on the gravel. He watched as a woman stepped up, dressed for the hot heat in Hawkins. She wore a tank top, tight in the right places, and small jean shorts. Eddie felt the sun beaming down on him as his hairline began to sweat. He swallowed the dryness in his throat when she noticed him staring.

"Hi there, I'm Y/N, we must be neighbors." Her smile had Eddie's heart running. He threw his bud to the ground and wiped his hands down his sweat shorts.

"Eddie," He said as he shook her hand. He ignored the buzz of electricity he felt. She was even hotter up close. "Need any help?" he offered, his eyes trailing over to the amount of boxes that sat in the truck bed.

"That would be amazing."

Eddie spent two hours sweating next to her as they moved her boxes inside. He felt his shorts get tight whenever she bent over. He learned she was single, and he had no idea how. She was older, but Eddie didn't care. He was smitten by her on the first day.

~~~

"Those flowers seem to be coming in great," Eddie smiled, he came from Hellfire and saw Y/N out in her front garden. She was on her hands and knees as she pulled out the weeds. Sweat dripped down her neck, and Eddie tried not to stare.

"Seems like someone had a good eye for placement," she flirted, she sent him a wink. Eddie wasn't as stone-cold as he thought. She could tell the younger boy had a little crush on her, from how he blushed or played with his curls when she was around. She enjoyed making the boy nervous.

He stuttered out a thank you before he raced back into his trailer.

Wayne watched from the window with a smirk, he sipped on his coffee as Eddie practically ran in.

"Smooth," Wayne teased

"Shut up," Eddie groaned as he went into his room.

~

Sadly, Eddie didn't get any smoother, he looked like an idiot when he talked to her. He felt that his crush was inappropriate so he tried his best to be a friendly neighbor.

Y/N sat in her front yard, swimsuit on as she soaked in the sun. Eddie watched from the window, wishing he was on her lips instead of the cigarette she inhaled.

"That's creepy," Wayne said, scaring the world out of Eddie.

He jumped and acted like he was looking at something else. But it didn't matter, he was caught.

"Kid, just ask her out instead of staring like a stalker." Wayne sighed. "She moved in two months ago and all Eddie did was tip-toe his way around her.

"No way, she's older! She will probably laugh in my face if I ask her out." Eddie groaned, he shut the shade and looked over at Wayne.

"She wouldn't. I've met her and talked to her. She's very kind."

"You can't talk to her! What if she likes you" Eddie panicked

"Flattered, but she doesn't. But what about all the other guys she might meet in town? Really want to take the chance?"

Eddie thought of Wayne's advice and bit at his lip. He could take the shot, what is the worst that could happen?

"Fine." Eddie huffed and opened the door.

He took a deep breath as he walked over the small distance.

"Can I get a hit?" his voice reached her ears and she smiled. Her eyes shut as she simply held it out for him to take.

Eddie sat next to her tanning chair, liking the way she was at a higher ground. He could see her skin glistening with sweat as he grabbed the cigarette.

God knows he needed it

He inhaled it and let it calm his nerves. The tobacco on his tongue as he relaxed.

"You know windows work both ways, right?"

Eddie froze as she smirked and turned her head to look at him. She flipped up her sunglasses and took in his blushed face.

"Yeah..."

"I hope I gave a good show,"

Eddie was smitten by how much confidence she had, and how she knew he was tied around her finger.

"A ten out of ten review," Eddie joked, he smiled as she laughed.

"Wow, the boy does speak!" She cheered as she sat up, and swung her legs to the side. Her hot legs were inches away from Eddie as she leaned down and placed her arms on her knees.

Eddie didn't say anything as he inhaled another hit before he passed it back to her.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, he looked up at her and squinted as the bright sun was above her head.

"Yeah, wanna go inside for a drink?" She offered, her eyebrow raised like she was hinting at something.

Eddie coughed but nodded.

She stood up, and Eddie whimpered as her whole body was now on display inches above him. He wanted to get on his knees and kiss every inch he could reach.

She held out her hand, he grabbed it and stood up. As they walked in, he looked back at the window. He rolled his eyes as Wayne stood watching. She was right, the window worked both ways.

"You old enough to drink, Eddie?" she asked as she grabbed two beers from her fridge

"Not that young, sweetheart," he said as he grabbed it from her hand, easily cracking open the top.

"Good," she said as she sipped her beer, "what did you want to ask?"

"Not many people pick to live here, were you running from something?" Eddie asked, he leaned his arms on the counter

"I left my ex-husband, and needed to be somewhere he wasn't." She shrugged, leaning on the counter, across from him.

"I'm glad he ran you here," Eddie admitted

"Yeah? How come?" she asked, leaning closer

Eddie licked his lips nervously as she was inches away from his face

"So I can...ask you out" Eddie confessed, his eyes flicked down to her lips

"Alright, let me hear you ask," her eyes flicked down to his lips

"Can I take you out to dinner? Tonight?" his eyes back on hers, "on a date"

"Yes you can," she smiled, her lips inches from his but she pulled away. She laughed as Eddie didn't care to hide his disappointment.

~

Eddie sat across from her as she sipped her wine. He took the time to admire how breathtaking she looked in the restaurant lights. The low glow smoothed her skin.

"What are you staring at?" she asked as she set down her glass

"You," Eddie said, a small smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair

"You do that a lot, huh?" she turned her head to the side with a smile

"Can you blame me? I never want to look away."

Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach. She didn't know if feeling so beautiful because of a younger guy was a good thing. It was frowned upon, but she didn't care. The heat in his eyes was what she had been searching for in her marriage.

"Smooth talker," she said

"Dirty lover," Eddie replied, a smirk on his face

"Are you trying to get in my bed, Eddie?" she asked her chin on her hand as she looked at him through her lashes

"I hope so," he laughed as he leaned forward, "but I'm trying to win you over."

"You'll score," she said with a wink

~

Eddie drove them back to the trailer park, his hand on her thigh as he hummed along to the music

"Want to come in?" Y/N asked as Eddie walked her to her front door

"Course," Eddie smiled, a silent cheer in his head as he followed her in

They settled on the couch and played a random movie. They talked through two movies, getting closer. Her body was practically on top of his as their words became whispers.

"I don't think at my age I'm supposed to feel like a teenage girl," Y/N said, her face inches away from his.

"I was worried I wouldn't be mature enough for you, so if you want to be a teenager, that'll make it easier for me" Eddie chuckled, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. His fingers softly trailed up and down her skin.

"Don't worry about being anything but yourself for me. Because I happen to really like the boy next store," she said with a wink, "plus," she whispered, moving onto his lap. "I like having you in the palm of my hand."

Eddie shivered underneath her body, itching his lips closer to hers.

"You want to kiss me?" she whispered, moving her arms to wrap around his neck

"Yes, please" he breathed out as he licked his lips

She didn't say anything, just placed her lips on his. Eddie put his palms against her back as he pushed her body against his. He wanted to inhale every part of her.

He whimpered as he felt her tongue slip inside his mouth

He might have to thank Wayne for this later

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[teeskzagain]

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

~

~

~

~

this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

[transmascsteveharrington]

Steve likes taking care of people, has done it since he was a child and his mother would retreat to her room under the excuse of migraines quite frequently. Steve would bring her some aspirin and water, later if she was up for it some toast he had made for dinner for both of them.

Most of the time she would take the pills and the toast and make a shooing motion for Steve to leave again. And he would as quietly as a shadow sneak out of her room and into his, hoping she'd be doing better tomorrow. On some days though, she'd gently cup his cheek, ruffle his hair and whisper, "Thank you, Stevie."

She'd pull her blanket aside for him to curl up next to her and nap with her for a while. Steve had thought that maybe, those few days would be enough, enough to make her stay.

It wasn't, still, Steve likes taking care of people. He comes over to Robin's when she has a cold with several bottles of pills and coughing syrup (because she is a hypochondriac who thinks every cough might be her last) makes her herbal tea and curls up with her watching old movies. Her parents will invite Steve over for dinner once they come home and he stays, carries two trays of food up to Robin's room, opens the windows for some fresh air and makes sure they are not getting any crumbs on the bed. She technically doesn't need him to take care of her, but she always appreciates the company nonetheless.

Eddie is more fussy when he is sick, hates being trapped in a bed for too long, hates how the sheets grow sweaty and how sleep seems impossible after an entire day of just lying in bed. So Steve helps him move to the couch in the trailer, fluffs up his pillows and brings him blankets that are keeping him just the perfect temperature.

While Eddie recovers from the journey to the couch Steve goes into the kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients he needs for chicken soup. It's Claudia's recipe with some adjustments from Wayne and some little changes made by Steve. He personally likes the faint hint of bay leaf but he knows Eddie can't stand the stuff. While the soup simmers until all the flavor has been brought out Steve returns to the couch. Eddie likes to read when he is sick, but his eyes are heavy and his hands week. So Steve gently nudges Eddie until Steve can sit down and pull Eddie back against his chest, takes the book from Eddie, and begins to read out loud. He isn't the best reader, tongue often stopping, refusing to smoothly curl around certain words like Eddie's does and he isn't that good at doing voices either. But for Eddie it seems to be enough. He hums sleepily and just snuggles closer to Steve until the soup is done.

Steve knows that Dustin only takes cough syrup if it's mixed with apple juice and that neither El nor Will like swallowing pills. He knows that sometimes Max will get headaches and the only thing that'll help her is sleeping through the afternoon and not letting anyone bother her. He knows that Nancy hates the smell of vickvaporub but loves elderflower cough drops. He always has ginger tea in his house because Mike tends to easily get an upset stomach and keeps heating pats around because Lucas had a sports injury the last year of middle school and it likes to act up.

So yeah, Steve really likes taking care of people. But no one ever really takes care of him. Which is fine, Steve is a big boy and can take care of himself, always has. It's not like his parents were around to call school when he got sick. Or to make sure food was in the house, to run him baths, or to give him cold compresses to break his fever. Steve managed all of that on his own, knew how to fake being healthy enough for none of his teachers to send him home, knew how to drag himself to the store, to change his own pjs and sheets, to manage with whatever cold medicine his parents had left behind. Ans it's fine, it has always been fine, Steve has managed.

Only that after their fourth run-in, things have been less fine. Steve has been getting these killer headaches, that make his vision blurry and his stomach turn. He keeps telling himself that it's fine, doesn't need to ask for help, doesn't want to, doesn't know how to. He doesn't want to bother anyone, also what would they do anyways? Hold his hand and tell him it's all going to be fine? Steve doesn't need them to do that, he'll just pop his aspirin the same way his mother used to do and soldier through it. Gritting his teeth through the skull-splitting pain is still better than asking for help. And it works, has always worked, until it doesn't.

One moment Steve pops some aspirin and grabs his keys to pick up Robin, the next his face is smushed into the cold tiles of the floor and his vision goes dark.

When he wakes up again he no longer is on the floor. He doesn't quite now where he is, opening his eyes still hurts, just that he is somewhere soft and warm. There is a hand gently playing with his hair and he leans into the touch.

"Back with us, baby?" he hears Eddie whisper and it's such a lovely sound.

Steve tries to shift, to sit up but his entire body aches and he can't help but whine.

"Woah, take it slow," he hears Robin's voice from a bit further away and a pair of hands gently pushes him back into what he assumes must be his bed. "I got you some painkillers and water," Robin says and he can feel a pill being pressed into the palm of his hand. He guides it to his mouth and a glass of water is pressed to his lips to help him swallow it.

"That's it, just keep your eyes closed, we got you," Eddie murmurs and keeps gingerly stroking Steve's hair. There is something delightfully cool pressed against his temple an ice pack probably, Steve figures before he falls back asleep.

The second time he wakes his headache has finally disappeared he manages to open his eyes. He is in his bed, curled up between Eddie and Robin, both still snoring gently. Eddie wakes up next, gives Steve a tired smile and a quick forehead kiss before he tells Steve to stay put and disappears downstairs to make some breakfast. By the time he is back up with orange juice and strawberry jam on toast, Robin has woken up to.

"Do you get migraines like that often," she asks eventually as she nibbles on her toast. Steve just shrugs, tries to downplay it all.

"Every now and then," he lies. The only problem is that Robin and Eddie know him, know his tells, know when he is lying, know that he sometimes thinks just his existence is a burden. Eddie cups his cheek and looks at him with so much sadness in his puppy dog eyes.

"It's okay, baby, you can tell us," he says and even though it's hard Steve nods, gives in, tells them about the frequent migraines, how he doesn't want to bother anyone.

Eddie and Robin tell him that it's fine that they don't mind, that they are here for him. And they prove it the next time he has a migraine and the next time and the next time. After that Steve still likes to take care of people. But he also doesn't mind if they take care of him.

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

[heliza24]

I want to talk a little bit about Daniel in the Interview with the Vampire show, because the new trailer material has me stuck thinking about him, and also I’ve never written about how meaningful he is as disabled character to me before.

I don’t see many people thinking about show!Daniel in these terms, but he’s a canon disabled character. And I think the way he is written is just SO good. The acerbic wit, his relationship to doctors and his medication, his rueful acceptance of the way his disability has changed him. It is all so correct!! It’s really incredibly rare to have not only a disabled character written this well but specifically a chronically ill character written this well. His illness is always present; it doesn’t get forgotten about by the story. It gives Daniel insight into the vampires (more on this in a min), but it also gives Louis and Armand leverage over him. When Louis triggers his Parkinson’s symptoms? Deeply not ok. But that’s what made it such a great scene, and really made Louis feel dangerous and threateningin that moment. Armand and Louis arranging Daniel’s meds is a sign of great care and also great power over Daniel. It’s the perfect way to communicate the complicated power dynamic in their relationship.

I also just fucking love that this show takes place in 2022 and doesn’t erase the pandemic. Covid is a very present concern for Daniel and I cannot describe how validating that is for me as someone who is clinically vulnerable to Covid and who has had to really limit my life and take a lot of precautions because everyone else has decided to stop caring whether they pass on Covid or not. The fact that Daniel gets on a plane to Dubai is a BIG DEAL. He’s risking his life to talk to Louis and Armand before he’s even in the room with them. He really wants to be there. I have to make a similar calculation every time I travel, and trust me, getting on that plane knowing getting sick could spiral you into even worse health or kill you is really hard.

I think making Daniel disabled and including the pandemic is kind of a genius level decision on a thematic level. Of course Daniel is now facing down his mortality, which gives him a whole new lens on the vampires and the fact that he once asked them to turn him. And the pandemic further highlights his fragility, and is also possibly being used as a cover for drama that’s happening in the vampire world. But I think it also really sets Daniel up as a foil to Louis.

There’s a lot of analysis of the vampire chronicles that reads vampirism as a metaphor for queerness. But I would actually propose that it’s a much neater parallel for disability and illness in a lot of ways. So many of Louis’s initial experiences after being turned resonated with me, as someone who became chronically ill in my 20s. My appetite and relationship to food completely changed, much like Louis. My relationship with the outdoors and the sun changed, because of dysautonomia and allergy reasons. I was very mad, and very depressed, and I too have missed out on birthday parties and big life events like Louis did because I was too sick to go. Hell, you can even say that the way that Louis is treated as evil by his family, that the way vampires literally can’t be a part of society during the day, is reminiscent of ableist exclusion and ugly laws. (Ugly laws were laws that forbid disabled people, especially those with visible differences, from being out in public, and they were on the books in many American municipalities until the 1970s.) You can look at Lestat being an out and proud vampire in the first few episodes on the season and imploring Louis to leave his shame behind as a queer thing, but you can also view it as a disabled thing. Disabled people are portrayed as monstrous so often (and in a way that has gone relatively unexamined compared to say, the queer coded villain trope) that sometimes it’s just easier to embrace that label: I’m the monstrous Crip, but at least I’m not ashamed of or disgusted by who I am anymore.

I do think the real strength of this adaptation is that while you can find parallels between queerness or disability or other forms of marginalization with vampirism, ultimately it’s not a one-to-one parallel. It speaks to the real world but ultimately it is a gothic horror story about supernatural monsters. So I don’t mean to say that vampirism directly equals disability, because it does not. But I do think that making Daniel disabled was an intentional choice to help draw out some of those parallels, and I think the text is richer for it.

So Louis and Daniel have had these kind of parallel experiences of uncontrollable and difficult things happening to their bodies. It sets them up perfectly as foils, and even, I would argue, as the A plot and B Plot protagonists. This is one of my favorite ways of kind of examining the structure of a TV show (or maybe it’s that most of my favorite shows seem to be structured this way?). When TV was all episodic, it would be common to refer to the A plot (mystery of the week), B plot (interpersonal drama happening as the mystery gets solved) and C plot (any overarching plot tying the season together) in an episode. Now that stuff is serialized, there’s often a main protagonist, who has the main dramatic question and the most agency, and then there is often a secondary B plot that explores similar themes and mirrors the A plot, or presents a second main character who is the ldifferent side of the same coin” to the main protagonist. (My favorite example of this is Flint and Max in Black Sails, and I’ve also made the argument that Wilhelm and Sara fit this pattern in Young Royals.) In IwtV, Louis is obviously the main protagonist of the show, especially in the A Plot, which is the stuff taking place in New Orleans/Paris. But I would argue that Daniel is the protagonist of the B Plot set in Dubai. At the very least they’re intentionally set up as mirrors of each other:

They are both unreliable narrators, who are struggling with the way memory contorts (through memory erasure, illness, deliberate obfuscations, and just the passage of time). The most recent teaser trailer, where we hear Louis saying “I don’t remember that”, with panic in his voice, further underlined this similarity between Louis and Daniel to me. I don’t know if it means that Louis has also had his memory tampered with, as I’m assuming Daniel has, but I do think it means that Louis is going to be struggling with feeling out of control of his own narrative more in season 2, a thing that was already starting for Daniel in season 1.

They are also both locked into power struggles with people more powerful than they are. The fact that Louis is under Lestat in the flashbacks and above Daniel in the Dubai scenes in terms of power/status makes it all the more interesting. And, if we want to go ahead and assume that the Devils Minion’s years have happened in the past by the time we get to Dubai— it’s possible that both Daniel and Louis are united in being the less powerful partner in their own respective fucked up gothic romances.

They’re also both the audience’s entry point into their respective stories. Louis’s narration guides us into the world of vampires. Daniel’s questioning satisfies our human curiosity in Dubai.

I think one of the things that makes the show so special is the way that these two protagonists interact. In a lot of shows the a plot and the b plot stay pretty separate. I love talking about Black Sails for this because I think it’s such a good example; Flint and Max never exchange dialogue the entire show, even though they’re so clearly affecting each other the whole time. But the way that Louis and Daniel clash in Dubai is so exciting. We see them both wrestling for control of the narrative. It’s thrilling to watch and it just hammers home the theme of how complicated and changeable stories can be.

I am SO excited to see how the Dubai scenes play out in season 2 because of it. I really can’t wait. I’m really hoping we’ll see Daniel and Louis’s relationship evolve in surprising ways, and I’m holding my breath that we’ll get a lot of Armandaniel material to work with. (I have a whole other post drafted that’s much less smart than this one and is just me waxing poetic about Devil Minion’s theories which I may post at some point. You have been warned.)

I do have two wishes for Daniel in the new season, and they’re 1: that he gets to have romance/sex, because disabled (and older!) characters are so often seen as unworthy of being desired, and I would like to see that challenged and 2: that he continues to refuse to be turned/is not offered a vampiric cure for Parkinson’s. The magic cure for a disability or chronic illness is probably my least favorite disability trope, because it serves to erase disabled characters and representation from the narrative, and I want to see my experiences continue to be reflected in Daniel’s. That means that whatever ending Daniel’s story has will probably have at least a bit of tragedy baked into it, but I’m ok with that.

[ordinaryschmuck]

I love that The Ghost and Molly McGee's forced cancellation isn't just frustrating to fans of the show but to people in the animation industry as well. They're just as sick as we are about how much studios disrespect animation. They keep looking for the next Spongebob, Simspons, or goodness forbid Family Guy, but instead having faith in the creators and their content, they just...wait. They wait to make a profit and do the bare minimum to market their shows and make them available.

Let's look at Gravity Falls for example. I remember that when Gravity Falls was still airing, you would be able to find out a new episode was coming out based on coming across a commercial by random chance or by the people working the show promoting it online. Add that with the fact that it was on a different channel that required you paying MORE for your cable to get it. It WAS available through Disney Channel, a channel more available at a cheaper price, but the entire of Season Two got moved to the more expensive Disney XD, where Disney shows go to die, because...REASONS. With no warning or announcement. I think I found out about Gravity Falls moving to Disney XD because the trailer played during a commercial break. And that's just the START the show's problems. Mixed in with poor marketing, the show would have a crazy inconsistent schedule, where we'd have four episodes a week, a few months of NOTHING, a few more episodes a week, nothing for a few months, a random episode playing between that nothingness with next to no promotion, and all of that happening to the rest of the show until it finally died a slow death with its series finale where four episodes got stretched out for six months. That...is NOT okay. And it doesn't stop with Gravity Falls.

Steven Universe, OK KO, Ducktales 2017, Amphibia, The Owl House, and now Ghost and Molly McGee are all shows that had similar and sometimes WORSE treatments as Gravity Falls did, where the networks gave next to NO marketing, the creators had to promote their own shows themselves, and the airing schedules were so inconsistent with wildly long hiatuses that only the most dedicated fans were willing to keep watching. General audiences (mainly kids) weren't willing to keep up with shows that had ongoing stories if the episodes stories kept being too spaced apart and never had reruns as frequent as other shows like Teen Titans Go or Big City Greens (Or whatever's constantly on network TV nowadays. I don't know. I mostly watch shit on streaming).

The people of the animation industry is catching onto all of these tricks, and they're getting sick of it. They're getting sick of inconsistent schedules. They're getting sick of trying to bend over backwards in every possible way to make the show they wanted. By either making serialized content as episodic as possible so the network could air it more or by condensing their stories as much as they can, already expecting that forced cancellation to happen sooner than later. And in some cases, they don't even get the luxury of being told their show is ending. Did you know that Inside Job and Paranormal Park both had seasons that were already in development before Netflix pulled the plug shortly after releasing new episodes of their shows? Did you know that The Ghost and Molly McGee was already working on a Season Three before Disney shut that down so they had to force out a series finale that would still be good despite the cancellation? Because it's true. It's ALWAYS true. Creators want to make MORE, but the studios won't let them because they didn't profit off of it. Except they WOULD HAVE if they treated it better.

I want kids to grow up with characters that stick around through their childhood, just like I did with mine. I want kids to have their own Ed, Edd n Eddy, Codename: Kids Next Door, Phineas and Ferb, or Kim Possible. I want kids to watch shows that last more than two-three seasons, stick around for years, and leave an impact as if they have all the time in the world because to them, it feels like they do. I want kids to have a show that ends on a high note because the creators wanted it and not because the networks demanded it. But the unfortunate thing is that it doesn't seem possible nowadays. Because if a mostly episodic show like The Ghost and Molly McGee fails, despite being charming and inoffensive and something most kids will love, the what hope IS left.

[anjelicawrites]

Paring: Lestat de Lioncourt x reader

Synopsis: sick and tired as you are of Lestat’s treatment you decide to put your situationship on hold, until he comes for you. Inspired by the SDCC trailer.

Warnings: toxic relationship, kissing, p in v sex, blood drinking, biting, choking, clit pinching, edging, violence, butchering of the French language.

A/N: reader is AFAB. They/them pronouns used, but French is a gendered language, which forces me to decline the adjectives as feminine whenever Lestat uses them when referring to reader.

The bustling in the dressing room is doubled by the fact that there’s no space to move; the concert is due to start in no time and you are all still running about, trying to prepare the man of the hour, the rock star the people in the arena are cheering, whose name they’re screaming at the top of their lungs: The Vampire Lestat. The one and only.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

Your current walking, not breathing headache. The undead man you’re trying to ignore with all your might.

You had asked a colleague to do his hair and makeup these last few nights, even though you’re supposed to be his personal stylist, and threw yourself into working with the rest of the band as a revenge for the way he’s been treating you lately; you know you’re on borrowed time, that he’s letting you give him the cold shoulder that, if he truly wanted, you’d be still working on him, whether you liked it or not.

You almost crash in one of the documentary crew people: they swarm everywhere and are always in everyone’s general space, filming and asking questions. You try to lay low, do your job and then hide until the next concert, yet you feel like the journalist, Daniel Molloy, has his eyes trained on you behind his tinted glasses, and you don’t like it: Lestat has a rabid fanbase, if anyone had the inkling he’s fucking you (because to call whatever it is what you two have a ‘relationship’ would be an exaggeration), you’d have no peace.

Lestat has been a menace, more than his usual self, during rehearsal and in his dressing room, unhappy with the various options for the Halloween concert, changing his outfits too many times and now your colleagues are in a hurry to prepare him, hence why you’re here instead on your perch backstage, ready to do touch ups in between songs.

You ignore his stunning eyes as you bend to finish applying the last layer of powder on his forehead and nose.

“Ma choue.”

You can hear is deep voice in your head, almost snapping the small brush in a half in annoyance: he knows you hate it when he calls you ‘my cabbage’, it makes your blood boil that it’s supposed to be a term of endearment; who, in their right mind would call someone at least dear to them ‘cabbage’? Might as well call them ‘lettuce’ or ‘ tomatoes’!

“Tu me manques.” He continues, his face not betraying any emotion, while his hand moves sneakily to caress the inside of your tight; in your head his voice has taken that low timbre of when he’s deep inside of you, fighting his orgasm.

“Would that be all, Mr. De Lioncourt?” You ask, coldly, moving away from his grasp. “You don’t look like you need me.”

Your words echo his when he dismissed you, not longer than a week ago, right before the first day of shooting.

As used as you are to his mercurial moods, that day you were already angry with him, his careless words were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and made you decide to put whatever the two of you have going on (“Still better than Twilight” a voice in your head keeps telling you) on an indefinite hold or, as indefinite as he’ll decide it’s going to be.

Before leaving for the backstage, you let one single thought ring through your mind, positive as you are that he’s listening:

“Fuck you Lestat! The only thing you miss is my blood!”

To everyone else his face betrays no emotion, you’re used to read in between the lines with him and the twitch of his mouth tells you there’s going to be hell to pay: you’ll burn that bridge when you’ll get there, if ever, now it’s your time to be an asshole, and have fun while you’re at it.

You run into the dressing room swearing under your breath: how in the name of all is holy and sacred you forgot one of the foundation sponges here? You didn’t even use it on Lestat!

In a hurry you start rummaging through all the crap and garbage your colleagues and Molloy’s crew have left around: between your crazy work hours and the concerts dates being so close to one another, you don’t have the time to buy a new one and you find yourself hunting for this stupid one that’s finished God only knows where.

“Looking for this, ma choue?”

You turn around too fast, whipping the muscles of your neck painfully to look at Lestat, who has closed, and locked, the door behind his back and is leaning against it, pink sponge in his hand.

You know he’s fresh off the stage after the third encore, the pinkish red of perspiration is staining the dying makeup and collar of his elaborate shirt.

“I should have known you had taken it.” You growl back.

“What should a man do when he’s been ignored?” He says nonchalantly. “You left me with no choices, ma belle.”

Instinctively you start looking for a way out of the small room, knowing all too well there’s only the door, and that he stands on your pathway out of here and towards the safety of your hotel room.

“Perhaps, a man, should ask himself why he’s been ignored.”

You square your shoulders, yet your insecurity is betrayed when you start pinching the inside of your right arm, where he’s first bitten you.

The wound has healed nicely, the scar remains, too small to be truly noticed if not for the constant redness of your picking at the skin there.

You remember when he first drank from you, so many months ago when you still believed the whole ‘Vampire Lestat’ persona was just a stage play; he had looked at you with those eyes, mesmerizing, whose color you couldn’t truly name, making you feel like a lamb would in front of a hungry wolf, right before gently grabbing your uncovered arm to bite the delicate skin and drink enough blood to make you feel dizzy on your feet.

“And what did a man do?” He asks, advancing like the predator he is, as if he owns the room hell! The entire building.

You try to stand your ground, shoulders squared, legs firmly planted on the floor: the bridge is here, you might as well go down swinging.

“Oh, I don’t know, treat me like a blood bag and demean me in front of the cameras?”

Two days before your personal bombshell, he had complimented the taste of your blood, and responded a second too late, when you had bluntly asked if he looked at you like he would a steak, then the whole ‘Do I look like I need you?’ incident had happened: the proverbial icing on the cake.

To be absolutely clear, you don’t expect anything from him that is not great sex (narcissist or not, he knows how to show you a good time and not having to breathe to live helps when you’re going down someone) and a bit of consideration.

“Oh, that.” He stands in front of you, impossibly tall, cutting off any escape route. “Would you like me to apologize publicly? Perhaps in front of the crowd tomorrow?” He mocks you.

And you fall for it: hook, line and sinker.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You growl, invading his personal space, as if you’d ever pose a threat for him.

In a second you find yourself against the wall, arms stretched over your head, your work bag on the floor.

“What would you do, ma choue, how would you stop me?”

You’re so angry you’d kill him with your mind, if only you could!

Uselessly you try to kick him, squirming in his light hold, until he’s plastered against you with your legs around his trim hips.

“Let me go, now!”

That wins you a laugh, a low rumble against your chest: he knows that you know that he loves when you fight back, that your fascination with him doesn’t stop your fiery spirit to burn bright, like a light in the darkness.

“Why would I do such a thing?” His lips leave butterfly kisses all over your pulse point. “After scheming to have you here. That would be most stupid, wouldn’t it?”

Slowly, seductively, his hips grind against yours, his erection already pushing against your core, almost forcing a wail of need from your lips: even angry you missed the liquid need pooling in your belly as soon as your bodies are near, how his touch would ignite your desire and burn any reasoning to keep him away.

“I hate you so much!” And you both know is a lie.

“Then why can I smell how ready you are for me, ma petite?”

You let your head slam against the wall, baring your neck to his fangs, now tracing a path of goosebumps leading to your collarbone and heaving breasts.

You squirm against him, not trying to evade him, but because you need him desperately: you want to tear his clothes off his body and fuck your rage and pent up desire until you are both spent on the filthy carpet of the dressing room.

The words almost leave your mouth, when knocking on the door, followed by the voice of your fellow make up artist stops you, and him.

“Are you coming or not?” She asks from the corridor. “I need to shower! Come on!”

“I’m on my way!” You shout back, your desire retreating as your brain reminds you of the way he’s been treating you.

Lestat eyes you with a smirk on his lips; for a moment you think he’ll not let you go and blow your illicit relationship for the whole crew to see. His eyes seem to shine as he stares into yours, searching, searching as you wonder, again, what color they truly are.

“Saved by the bell.” He murmurs in your ear, letting your shaky legs off from around his hips. “Off you go, ma petite lapinou. You’re not going to be as lucky the next time.”

You’re still trembling as you grab your bag and rush to your friend, cursing yourself for being so weak in your resolve.

As per your contract you, and the other two make up artists, are supposed to share the hotel room to kill the costs for the whole production; the rest of the crew does the same, while the actual band members have rooms for their own, usually in a better hotel than the one chosen for you all.

The wandering life you have all chosen has changed those plans: in fact you have the hotel room all for yourself, since one colleague is in a committed relationship with one of the sound technicians (they always crash together), the other is in a situationship with a girl from Molloy’s crew; the relationship is even more toxic than whatever you have going on with Lestat, yet the two always bunk down together.

You don’t mind having all the space, and the bathroom for yourself: you love the quiet after a concert and before you are all on the road again.

You exit the bathroom, your skin still warm after the shower. You hear the TV on in the background, not giving it much attention: it’s just white noise to keep you company as you dry your hair and decide what to wear to go out with some colleagues.

“Now, what is this?”

You screech in surprise and almost slip on your ass.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why are you here?! I’m naked!”

Lestat looks at you from the armchair where he’s sitting, long legs encased in skin fitting leather and a white shirt half unbuttoned to showcase the hard planes of his chest you’re trying very hard not to ogle.

“You haven’t answered my question, ma petite lapinou.”

He’s holding your Taylor Swift pink T shirt, showing it to you with a frown on his brow.

Him and Taylor, better, the respective fan bases have this crusade going on, sniping at each other: the swifties being absolutely rabid whenever one of Lestat’s songs is higher in the charts or his tours sold out faster than hers. Taylor has published another remastering of her latest album and Lestat responded with new songs that beaten her to the top: it’s an ongoing messy feud and Lestat loves throwing jabs at her and her fans in his interviews. Thank God he has no control over his X and Instagram accounts.

All of this considered, you bought it before your fallout with him, as a prank: you thought about appearing in his hotel room clad only in that to see how he would react, and reap the benefits. You deciding to withdrew from the ‘relationship’ killed that idea; you have been using it to sleep.

“It’s a T shirt.” You answer.

“That I can see.” He says reigning in his annoyance at your pretend ignorance. “I have never pegged you as a fan of mademoiselle Swift.”

“With the things you don’t know about me, you could build a ladder from here to the moon.” You shrug your shoulders, hoping he’s not snooping in your mind right now.

He throws the T shirt in the general direction of the bed and spreads his legs even more, the outline of his bulge clear against the tight fitting leather.

“Going somewhere, ma petite?”

His voice is a low rumble that goes straight to your core.

“Yeah.” You feign indifference. “Out with some people, have fun. I have decided I’m going to play drunk trick or treat.”

He’s not wearing any makeup now, he looks like a carved marble statue come to life, yet you can see curiosity etched on his beautiful, alien features.

“I am not, comment tu le dis, privy to this particular brand of trick or treating.”

You tighten the towel around your head, you’re going to need it.

“It’s pretty simple, actually. I go out, get drunk and fuck the first person I meet. Having an orgasm, finally, is going to be my treat. It has been too long.”

In a heartbeat you find yourself slammed against the wall. You should be used to his inhuman speed, yet he’s managed to knock the breath out of your lungs again.

Your ears are ringing, the towel having done a poor job at shielding your head from a hard knock against the wall: one of these days you’ll get a concussion. How fucked up is it that you’re accepting your fate so calmly?

Your vision swims as your eyes try to focus on his face, now contorted in rage: Take that asshole, you think.

“Who would be the lucky candidate, ma petite?” He growls, his hand finding home around your throat. “Perhaps one of Molloy’s subordinates? Or one of the sad men drinking themselves in an early grave in the hotel lobby?”

“Anyone would do.” You spat back, despite the pressure of his hand. “You wouldn’t know how to find my clit with two hands, a flashlight and a neon sign pointing at it!”

For a second his hold is too tight, cutting off your air supply completely: is this how you die?

The thought flies out of your head when you find yourself on the bed, coughing and trying to absorb as much air as your poor lungs can manage, Lestat between your splayed legs: you have gotten to him, to his pride and possessiveness. Revenge tastes so sweet, knowing you can slither under his skin the same way he does with you.

“Ouch!” You whine when he strips you of the towels, uncaring of the cotton burning your skin.

“Two hands, a flashlight and a neon sign, is that what you said ma belle pute?”

You try to push him away, fruitlessly: he’s far too heavy and strong for you, even if he were a human man, yet you trash under him and try to go for his eyes, like a cat, until two of his long fingers pinch your clit cruelly.

You cry out in pain, arching under him in the vain attempt to escape your punishment.

“I hate you so fucking much! I wish I could put a stake through your heart and see you die!”

He doesn’t move for a second; he truly seems a marble statue, Bernini’s masterpiece, betrayed by the shining of his eyes.

You scream when his fangs pierce the delicate skin of your neck, and his cock slams into you.

The pleasure is a wave that engulfs you and your senses. You don’t know where you are, who you are, you’re only feeling his heart beating to the rhythm of yours as his hips meet yours, again and again, fast and hungry in the desperate pursuit of his own end.

You can’t plant your feet on the mattress, too taken by the impossible high you’re experiencing, all of your senses drunk on him and on the pleasure burning through you, the tight band in your belly snapping, forcing another scream from your lips.

You whine when his fangs leave your neck.

Through the roaring of your own blood in your ears, you can ear his moans of pleasure when the pain of your nails in his back finally register in his brain. Through hooded eyes you look at his beautiful face, now marred by the red of your blood, his pupils so enlarged you can’t see the color of the iris.

He’s still hard inside of you, not pounding away anymore his hips have taken a sensual, slow rhythm, meant to savor the warmth your body provides.

He kisses you when you try to say his name, your taste, metallic and heady in your mouth, pushes you into a frenzy he doesn’t let you follow, forcing you to go slow and feel the way he owns your body.

You arch your spine when he starts kissing your neck and chest, unhurried and possessive, his cockhead finding your G spot to bully it again, to feel your walls clamp again around his erection, too slow to throw you into the throes of another orgasm but enough to keep you on the razor’s edge, your moans and keens music to his ears.

You buck under his weight when his skilled fingers find your center again, massaging your bud with slow, deliberate motions.

“Two hands.” He groans after a vicious push. “A flashlight and a neon sign, n'est-ce pas? Then why are you moaning, ma belle?”

You grab his arms, needy and desperate for the end he’s denying you, embarrassed by the squelching sounds your cunt makes around his cock.

“Anyone would do.” He spats in your face, pinching your clit cruelly, to enjoy your whines of pain and how your body squirms under his.

You want to beg for mercy, scream how sorry you are but his devious fingers have rendered you speechless and thoughtless, mad for an orgasm he’s denying you with a cruel smile.

His forehead meets yours, now that the pace is slow. He’s switched to French without truly realizing what he’s doing, too lost in feeling your muscles clench and massage his cock: he’s missed your body, something you must never know.

His tongue finds the bites on your neck, licking lazily at the blood still spilling as his hips pick up the pace again, grinding cruelly against your puffy clit, drunken words of appreciation fall from his lips when your cunt wounds so tightly around his cock, forcing him in deeper and deeper, the fullness blanking your mind to his words and to the world around you.

You shatter like crystal again, forcing him over the edge as well, your combined screams of pleasure reverberating against the cheap walls, his breaking the table lamp on the desk.

Your cunt milks him of all he can give and robs him of his strength; it’s a miracle he manages to pull out and fall by your side, unfocused eyes trained on the chipped ceiling.

You hear him stretch luxuriously next to you as you try to find the strength to go to the bathroom and deal with the mess of blood and semen he’s left on your body.

Your legs wobble when you stand and the room spins as you bend to retrieve your Taylor Swift T shirt fallen on the floor, after your ‘activities’; you hear him say something in French, his voice a low purr and you can feel his eyes trained on your naked arse.

“Shall I remind you I have taken Spanish in high school?” You say, wobbling to the bathroom as you feel his come slide down your legs, ignoring how he grabs his shirt to wipe the excess of blood on his face.

When you come back he’s still laying in bed, smoking, arms spread on the headboard as if he owns the place.

“This place is horrible.” He says, as if you had chosen it yourself. “Sincèrement affreux."

“Your tour manager picks the place for us, which means that you did.” You retort, sliding in bed to put your head on his naked shoulder. “This one isn’t so bad. The clown themed one was worse.”

“Clown themed?”

He wants to know more, but you’re already asleep, out like a light; he can hear the whooshing of your blood through your veins, now that your heartbeat has calmed into your usual tattoo.

Without waking you up, he kills his smoke and tries to make himself comfortable on the lumpy mattress: perhaps that’s why you have been in such a bad mood lately. He will look into it as soon as he wakes up from his slumber: he’s going to be famished and his tour managed looks delicious.

[lexirosewrites]

popping in for slick sunday again with another bit on a fic im working on :) i hope you enjoy :)

(warnings ahead for mpreg, angst, and some medical stuff that probably doesn't make actual sense bc i possess no more than a basic knowledge)

this fic's big focus is secret pregnancy. steve and eddie are not dating, but they have this more "friends with benefits" type thing going on. that is, until eddie leaves. he's off with Corroded Coffin, trying to make a name for themselves in the industry. what eddie doesn't know, and what steve finds out a few weeks later, is that steve is pregnant (with twins).

steve decides to keep it a secret because he doesn't want to "ruin" eddie's life. he knows eddie would come back the second he knew, and he didn't want to be the reason eddie gave up on his dream. steve doesn't tell anyone for the first month or so, and then slowly, their friends start being pulled into the loop. robin first, of course. everyone promises not to tell eddie, even though most of them aren't happy about it. eventually, even wayne and the rest of corroded coffin find out about it.

wayne insists on being part of their lives, if steve will let him. which obviously he does, because he loves wayne and would never want to keep him out. so then it's weekly dinners at the trailer, and wayne offering to babysit when steve has to work, and wayne coming over to their apartment often. the twins spend a lot of time with wayne, and he spoils them whenever he can. he's really the only grandparent figure they have, and he's more than happy to take on the role.

when eddie does, eventually, find all of this out, it's not under the best circumstances. it's been about six years since he left hawkins without looking back. the band is at the studio, recording for the new album, when eddie gets a call. the first time he's heard from steve since he left. his entire world is flipped when steve drops the news. eddie has pups he's never known about, and one of them is sick. really sick. the doctors don't think she has much time, and she needs a bone marrow transplant, but finding a match is taking longer than they'd hoped. eddie might be the only option left to save her.

of course, eddie's on a plane back to indiana that same night, no questions asked. well, very few questions asked at least. his mind is reeling the whole time. he doesn't have the full story. all he does know is that he has to get back. he meets the twins separately. first, his daughter, before she's taken for more testing. she lights up, so excited that he's there and asking 100 different questions all at once. he loves her so much already. he meets his son a little later, and it's different. he's more closed off, wary. he's sitting on steve's lap glaring daggers at eddie across the room. it's clear that he holds some resentment, and eddie can't say he blames him. when eddie tries to explain that he's there to help, that he'll be there however long they need him, the boy blows up. he's angry, spitting back at eddie that they don't need him, they never did. steve immediately tries to step in, but eddie stops him. he's right, and eddie knows that. he deserves this.

it may have been steve who kept the twins from eddie, but eddie's the one that never bothered to come back. never called. never visited. he's just as much to blame, and he knows that. all he can do is try to make up for his own shortcomings, and hope it's enough.

happy slick sunday!

oh my god my heart is broken😭