#or just go with her?? like she gave up stuff to go on your exhibition why wouldn’t you return the favor??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-modern-typewriter · 10 months

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The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.”

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

“It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again. Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in.

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke.

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

#the last of these stories I swear #turning 30 #short story #horror #fiction #writing #creative writing #writeblr #getting rid of the archive just in case #idk what to tell you #art #magical realism

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 1 month

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03/18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&Crew; Samba; Leslie Jones; Taika; Rachel House; Rhys; Kristian; New Weekly Event Calendar; YouWear50Well; Ranker; AdoptOurCrew Rhys Radness; Fan Spotlight; Fundraiser Status; Kudoboard; Watch Parties; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

Hey friends! Thank you for the kind words about my head injury! So far so good, not dead yet-- although I am a bit out of it so I apologize if i'm not totally articulate! I appreciate you all reaching out and sending love <3 You are the best crew ever!

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

== Samba More BTS ==

Samba gave us a whole bunch more BTS today! This time regarding the Spanish Jackiez Set! (I ran out of room for images on this so please visit the stills links for the pile of pics Samba dropped.)

Stills #1: Spanish Jackiez Stills

Stills #2: More Spanish Jackiez Stills

Video #1: Matthew confirming stuff

Video #2: "Hey Hey, Just mee and my big swords here" - Erroll

Video #3: "Are you a husband Kristian?"

Video #4: Flaming Bananas Practice

Video #5: Flaming Bananas Take

== Leslie Fucking Jones ==

Just, what can I say, this woman is on fire every time I see her. <3

SRC: Leslie Jones IG

== Taika ==

Taika was all over the place today, which is AWESOME! It's so good to see him feeling more comfortable posting on SM again, he also apparently is in some sort of influencer era because he keeps posting product reviews, which is hilarious and awesome.

=Rachel House =

Rachel House directed The Mountain, and Taika helped Produce it, she's out exhibiting the soundtrack that's available now!

Are you currently in Aotearoa (New Zealand)? They've got some screenings of the Mountain and Q & A sessions with Rachel! Visit the @temauunga linktree for more information and availabilities!

= Rhys =

For those of you not already aware-- Rhys is having a cameo on Night Court! As the Duke of Greybog. Available on Peacock!

= Kristian Nairn =

Just Kristian being sweet and continuing to keep us updated

= Gizmo = Poor Gizmo is missing Theo.

== Mar 18 - 24 Event Calendar ==

March 19th: London Billboard Round 2!

== YouWear50Well ==

Early reminder! The 21st is Rhys' Birthday! Since it'll be the 21st for some crew members earlier than others, @yronnia was kind enough to give us information early regarding the 50th birthday news! Please be sure to Post your birthday wishes to Rhys and show him your appreciation! Send your fanart and other creations using #YouWear50Well. Please Note: Please do not tag Rhys repeatedly! He's going to be getting a lot of notifications. Even just having notifications under #YouWear50Well will help keep everything visible :)

== Ranker ==

Wanna help boost Our Flag Means Death? There's another Ranker poll! Remember to rank OFMD up, and other shows down if you want to help keep OFMD up. Obviously vote how you like though :)

== Adopt Our Crew: Rhys Radness ==

So something I didn't cover yesterday was all the Rhys Radness going on over on Twitter! The first round of votes results were:

There are 4 categories: Movies, Commercials, Short Poppies, and Television

Todays options were:

Now one thing you'll notice, is the tv-show category between Stede Bonnet & Charles, and Steve and Murray got a bit out of hand. Most of the rest of the polls ranged in the 200-400 votes-- while those two ranged in the 7-9000K votes. Obviously somebody was having some bot fun. What's interesting is that during the day, once the bots started, they were heavily favoring Charles, and Murray, then the other half of they day they were heavily favoring Stede and Steve! We'll see who wins later tonight!

== Fan Spotlight! ==

Two more cast cards! This time Connor Barrett and Michael Crane! Our two captive Englishmen from Season 1! Thank you @melvisik for keeping these going :D

= MaxFanFaves =

Our dear crewmate @iamadequate1 has been hosting their own #MaxFanFaves on Twitter-- and its down to the final 4!

Coyote Vs Acme / Harley Quinn, and Our Flag Means Death / Gentleman Jack!

== Kudoboards closing soon =

Last chance! Thank you to @sharpenyersword on Twitter for setting up ALL THE KUDOBOARDS! Rhys' birthday kudoboard will close on the 20th, the rest will close on the 22nd.

Go send the cast and crew some love folks!

Rhys Darby's Birthday

David Jenkins

Nathan Foad

Con O'Neill

Ruibo Qian

Leslie F*cking Jones!

Matthew Maher

Vico Ortiz

Samson Kayo

Alex "Ass Tonight" Sherman!

David Fane

Kristian "Wee John Wednesdays" Nairn!

Samba "BTS and Baking King" Schutte!

Fellow OFMD Fan Crew!

== Taika Kudo Board ==

LAST DAY FOR TAIKA!

= Watch Parties =

== Wrecked ==

There are sources being passed around. If access is an issue, DM @iamadequate1 on Twitter or Tumblr

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd.

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags:

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

New watch parties!

Movie: Boy Date: Sunday March 31st at Time: 10am EST / 2pm GMT. We're watching Boy (2010) Hosted By: @tillychmo & @regg_official Location / Hastags: TBA

== Fundraiser Statuses ==

eSIMS and Sanitary Products for Gaza

03/10/24 - $5689 / 191 Supporters / 71 %

03/11/24 - $5814 / 194 Supporters / 72%

03/18/24 - $6558 / 248 Supporters / 81%

Getting close all!

= In Soup Now =

03/10/2024 - £925 / 39 supporters / 18%

03/11/2024 - £1183 / 47 supporters / 23%

03/18/24 - £1833 / 69 supporters (nice) / 36%!

Still going-- 12 days left!

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies. It's that time again. Time for me to gush over you for a bit.

Look at you! Go look at yourself in the mirror. Whether you see dark circles under your eyes, someone you can't recognize, or someone feeling put together --- You're gorgeous inside and out.

You are a tenacious, strong, amazing person, and whether you are where you want to be or not, you are making progress.

You're doing so well, even when it feels like you're not. Progress is so hard to gauge when you're living it-- but I know, because I talk to you all every damn day, that you are getting there. You bring out the best in every one around you, and you do so without even knowing it.

Even when things feel down, just know we can see you growing and you bring so much joy to our lives. I continue every day to be thankful for finding this little corner of the internet, for letting me meet each and every one of you.

Nothing can stop you lovelies-- nothing at all.

You're gonna get there, it just may take some time--

Remember to take breaks and get some rest if you can, it always makes things feel more manageable. But whatever you do, don't give up <3

We're here and we believe in you.

Love you crew, <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme-- Driving! ... or parking, in Murray's case. And NO this does not indicate who I voted for. Putting Murray vs Steve was cruel to be honest, how am I supposed to choose between those two!? Darby Gif Courtesy of: @ofmooshd This terrible Taika gif is courtesy of me, cause I was gonna put it in his sighting section then realized I could just put it here.

#ofmd #our flag means death #daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #taika waititi #rhys darby #kristian nairn #rachel house #samba schutte #leslie jones #leslie fucking jones #kudoboard #ofmd bts #save ofmd #long live ofmd #save ofmd crew #adopt our crew

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

Text

Teach Me How To Love

Pairing: Moonknight (Steven) x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: LOTS OKAY; This is smut minor dom/sub undertones, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (be safe around trains-shitty reference sorry lol), riding, creampie, kinda praise kink tingz, lemme know if I missed anything

Genre: fluff + smut

Summary: You knew dating the shy guy from the museum giftshop would mean taking the lead on things sometimes but boy is it sweet when he asks you to show him the ropes in bed

***

When you walk into the museum gift shop you scan the various shelves and racks. It doesn't take you long to pick out a few things, an archeology dig set, a stuffed Anubis toy, and a set of fact cards. You walk up to the counter where you realize you can't see a cashier.

"Uh- hello?" You call out looking around the gift shop for any indication that there's someone working here. A curly haired man suddenly pops up from behind the counter, so quick he loses his balance a little and has to grab the counter to avoid falling. "Oh." You gasp shocked by his appearance. You didn't even realize he was back there.

"Hi. Sorry I uh- didn't know anyone was here. Can I help you with something?" He asks softly.

"Just, checking out." You say setting your items on the counter. Steven glances up at you and nearly drops the scanner. He drops his eyes quickly, his shyness made worse by how attractive he thinks you are.

If you think she's so pretty then tell her so. Steven hears Marc's voice ringing in his head and he glares at the counter where Marc's reflection stares at him with bored exasperation.

"Did you find everything okay?" Steven asks as he rings your items.

"I think so- my nephew's newest obsession is Egyptian Mythology so I thought I'd pick him up some things while I was around. I figured these things would interest one very intelligent four and a half year old." You say.

"I'm sure he'll love it. You've included toys and something that actually provides knowledge. Those notecards are particularly very cool because they have some lesser known facts so it'll be really nice if he's interested in learning."

"Oh are you also a big fan of Egyptian Mythology?" You ask with a smile and his cheeks warm as he realizes he was rambling. He is, but you think it's very cute how excited he is.

"Um- kind of yes, actually. Your total is 32.56." He tells you.

"Maybe I'll have to bring my Nephew around! I'm sure he'd love to talk to another enthusiast." You smile as you swipe your card.

"If you decide to bring him, I'll happily talk with him." Steven says handing you your now bagged items.

"Great! I'll see you then!" You smile taking your stuff from him and heading out of the small giftshop.

I don't understand why you didn't tell her you thought she was pretty Steven. You're such a coward. Marc scoffs.

"She's a customer that's weird and borderline inappropriate." Steven whispers aggressively at the reflection. You glance over your shoulder and happen to catch what you assume is him talking to himself.

It's a couple weeks later that you bring your nephew back to the museum. You have him for the day so your sister and brother in law can have some alone time so you figured you'd bring him here. He's already memorized most of the notecards you gave him it seems because while walking through the museum he casually spouts facts at you about the various exhibits. Once you've walked through the whole museum, your nephew is quick to drag you into the gift shop.

"Don't go overboard sweetie, two or three things tops." You tell him as he scans the shelves.

"Okay!" He says excitedly. Your nephew comes back to you with another archeology dig and a book that he brings up to the counter he can barely reach.

"Oh- you're back!" Steven blinks at you with a smile he almost tries to hide.

"I am. Hello again." You smile.

"Hi."

"Lewis this is the nice man I told you about who likes Egyptian Mythology like you do." You tell your nephew. "I'm sorry, I just realized- I never got your name." You frown at him.

"Oh-- St- Steven. My name's Steven Grant." He stutters out.

"Steven." You say softly and he almost wants to collapse at the way his name sounds from your lips. "Well I'm y/n, and this is my curious nephew Lewis." You tell him.

"Hey Lewis! I hear you're really into mythology." Steven smiles at him.

"Yeah! Everything is so cool." Lewis says.

"Do you have a favorite mythological figure? Or myth?" Steven asks.

"I like Anubis because aunty got me a toy that looks like him, but I'm still learning about some of the others. Do you have a favorite?"

"Well I've heard Khonshu's kind of an annoying old bird but his powers are totally cool." Steven says.

"Is he in this book?" Lewis asks pointing at the book of myths he picked up.

"I actually think he is. You wanna know what he looks like?"

"You know what he looks like?!"

"Sure I do." Steven grabs a scrap of paper and one of the museum pens to start a sketch. It only takes him a couple of minutes to draw a strange skeleton bird creature.

"Woaaahh! He looks so cool!!" Lewis gasps.

"He's super tall so- it's actually kinda spooky." Steven says like he's sharing a secret. He hands the drawing to Lewis who excitedly looks over it.

"STEVEN!! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!" You gasp when a woman's voice booms through the lobby of the museum.

"Oh dear, that's my boss. It's like she can sense enjoyment and seeks to crush it." Steven jokes with you handing Lewis his things in a bag while you wrap up your transaction.

"I hope everything is alright." You tell him.

"Ah I'm sure it'll be fine. She tends to be dramatic." Steven says passing you your receipt.

"Well, it was nice to see you again Steven." You say.

"You too! Hope to see you soon."

"Ah now that Lewis has seen the collection here he'd have me bring him everyday if he could." You joke.

"Well Seeing a face like yours everyday would certainly make work much better." He says casually and you swear he sounds like a different person for a moment. His demeanor is totally different and it almost sounds like his accent changed.

"Aren't you sweet." You muse.

"Sorry, that was bold." Steven mutters and his mannerisms are back to normal.

"It was- cute. Very nice of you to say." You smile. "I have to get going now and you should probably go find your boss, but I'll be bringing Lewis back so, see you soon." You say grabbing Lewis's hand and taking him out of the museum.

"He was nice." Lewis hums.

"Wasn't he? Don't worry when you finish that book I can bring you back for more things." You tell him, ruffling his hair as you walk down the street.

You do bring him back, a couple of weeks later and he's quick to pick out a new book and another archeology dig toy like the one you got him. Apparently there's a whole collection of toys you can get inside and he's determined to get them all.

"Hello again mister Steven!" Lewis says placing his items on the counter.

"Oh hi, you're back." Steven glances at Lewis and then smiles at you.

"We sure are. Lewis is trying to collect all the toys in these things." You say.

"Awesome. Those things are very cool I bet." Steven says scanning the items.

"They are!" Lewis says.

"Well good luck on your expeditions." Steven smiles at Lewis as you swipe your card.

"Thanks!" Lewis says taking the bag from Steven when he hands it to him.

"Hey Steven, this may be a bit forward but would you be interested in hanging out some time?" You ask him. Ideally you'd wait for him to make a move but you suspect it would take him months to work up the courage and you don't want to keep bugging him at work and leave it up to chance.

"You wanna hang out with me?" He blinks at you.

"Yeah! Only if you're interested. You can say no of course, I just figured maybe it'd be nice to talk outside of me coming to your job." You say.

"I'd love to! When? Should I- should I meet you somewhere? Here maybe?" Steven stutters out nervously.

"You know the restaurant around the block? It's off Primrose."

"Yeah, I know it."

"Meet me there by 7 tomorrow." You tell him.

"Alright." He nods and you leave with Lewis in tow, too wrapped up in his new book to pay your interaction any mind.

The next evening Steven is outside your chosen restaurant ten minutes early ignoring Marc's voice making fun of him for being so anxious.

"Steven!" You call as you walk towards him.

"Y/n, hi." He breathes with a smile.

"I hope you weren't waiting long." You say looping your arm through his as you walk into the restaurant.

"Oh no not at all. I got here only a couple of moments before you." He says. The two of you are quickly led to a table where you end up sitting for a few hours. It's awkward at first, the way first dates tend to be. Steven is unsure of what he should and shouldn't say and it makes the first bit of conversation a little unnatural but you're more than happy to take the lead, and the more you do the more he relaxes. He cracks jokes and laughs and it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in some time. While it's obvious he's still nervous around you, by the time your date ends well into the night he's the most at ease he's felt in ages. He's even the one that initiates the invite for a second date for which you go to an art show. You and Steven spend a few weeks seeing each other before eventually making it official. He's sweet and gentle and still pretty shy about certain things even after a several months together. Tonight you've invited Steven over for dinner, it'll be his first time really in your apartment and you're hoping to approach physical intimacy with him. When you hear a knock on your door you're just about done making dinner and you quickly wash your hands before answering it.

"Steven! Hi!" You smile.

"Hello love, am I too early?" He checks his watch.

"No of course not, I just finished cooking. Come in." You step out of the doorway to let him in.

"Oh! I brought you flowers." He says handing you the bouquet.

"They're gorgeous. Let me just find a vase for them. You can just take a seat at the kitchen table." You say taking the flowers from him. You find a makeshift vase for the flowers and set them on the table. You quickly serve dinner, a vegan version of your favorite pasta dish.

"You look amazing by the way." Steven breathes out as you sit beside him.

"Thank you. You look nice too." You say softly. You wait for Steven to take a bite of his food before you eat your own, eager for his reaction. He lets out a groan that brings a proud smile to your face as you eat.

"This is so good." He says.

"I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorites to make." You tell him.

"If you cook any more meals like this I'll never let you go." He jokes.

"Who said I wanted you to do that anyway?" You muse making Steven blush. The conversation shifts to catching each other up on your days and before you know it, dinner is finished and you've migrated to the couch in your living room with wine.

"Your place is nice, it feels very you." Steven notes.

"I sure hope it does, I'm quite proud of my interior designing." You smile when Steven laughs. "Do you feel like your apartment reflect you Steven?" You ask after a moment.

"Well it's kind of a mess of books so, in some ways yes." Steven shrugs. "I think it reads mostly that it's just a place I sleep though."

"Not big on stylizing it to fit you?"

"Not sure what stylizing to fit me looks like honestly."

"A wall of books sounds like a good a place to start." You joke and he chuckles.

"Well what would you do with it?"

"With what?"

"My flat. What would you expect for it to reflect me? It's a studio, if that helps."

"A large bookshelf that you probably only half use because you're always reading five books at a time so even though it's there you still have books everywhere." He laughs at that, "Little knick knacks from your favorite exhibits at work. It's probably all neutrals, your bedsheets and stuff but you should really get something brightly colored, like nice curtains or some pretty throw pillows. Probably looks like a dead person lives there." You joke jabbing at his ribs lightly. At some point while you were talking you'd stretched out so your legs are draped over his lap.

"I'm very much alive thank you." Steven scoffs at you, hand absentmindedly rubbing your shin.

"Are you?"

"You'd be dating a ghost if I wasn't." He points out leaning towards you.

"Imagine that. My boyfriend, a ghost." You say quietly since he's so close.

"You can't feel a ghost this close to you. Can you?"

"Then it's a good thing you're not one I guess." You say, bringing him towards you with a hand at the nape of his neck. The position is a little awkward after a couple of seconds so you move to shift yourself entirely into his lap without disconnecting your lips. Steven has always been reserved in his kisses. They are soft and shy, as if he's not sure what to do although now he seems to be comfortable matching your intensity when you deepen the kiss. One hand tangles itself in his hair while the other rests against his chest.

Touch her Steven. She wants you to. Marc's voice chimes in.

Touch her?! Wait do you think she wants to go all the way? I don't-

Don't panic dude. I can always take over.

No way! She doesn't even know about you.

Maybe it's time to change that

Not tonight! Just- butt out.

At some point during their mental debate Steven stopped kissing you back, which- you definitely notice and you pull away.

"Steven. Are you alright?" You ask quietly and that brings his attention back to you.

"Y-yeah. Of course." He says.

"Steven we can stop if you're not comfortable. I have cake, we can just- go back to talking." You say shifting to get off of him. Steven's hands move to grab your hips, keeping you in place before you can move too far.

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just- I've never done this before."

"Never done what? Made out with a girl?"

"Uh well I- I thought maybe we were going to do more than that." He says awkwardly worrying that he misread the situation and made things worse by jumping to conclusions.

"We don't have to if you aren't ready." You tell him with a hand against his cheek.

"It's not that I'm not ready. I want to I just- I don't know what to do. You'll have to teach me."

"Teach you?"

"Yes teach me. teach me how to touch you and tease you show me how to please you." Steven says and you swear his words travel straight to your core.

"You're sure about this? I don't want you to feel pressured in any way."

"I'm dying to learn every inch of you." He says quietly.

"I'll tell you what you don't need help with, your words." You muse standing and pulling him with you. "We're going to my room." You toss over your shoulder.

"O-okay." He says letting you drag him down the hall to your room. As much as Steven would like to take a moment to look at your room, he's too captivated by you to bother looking anywhere else as you slowly pull the straps of your dress down. You let the dress fall to the floor and step out of it, turning to face Steven in just your underwear and his eyes are wide as he stares at you. You pull him towards you and place his hands on your waist to kiss him. You make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, running your fingers down his chest. Your hands unbuckle his belt and then stop yourself.

"Is this okay?" You whisper.

"Very okay." He sighs.

"Take them off for me baby." You say stepping back. Steven scrambles to shove his pants and boxers down his legs and nearly trips stepping otu of them. "You didn't have to rush." You muse.

"S-sorry." His cheeks ting pink in a way you find adorable.

"I'm not scolding you, but you almost tripped. I don't want you to hurt yourself." You say gently patting his cheek. With a hand on his shoulder you guide Steven to sit on the edge of your bed. You squat in front him and place a kiss against his knee, and then another above it trailing up his inner thigh and then switching to the other leg, starting at his knee again and kissing your way up. His hands squeeze the edge of your mattress as he gets worked up from your lips against his skin. When you finally take his dick in your hand Steven groans, hips twitching as your tongue traces the length of him. You wrap your fingers around him, swirling your tongue lazily around the tip while you stroke him. Only once his shaky breathing turns into strained whines do you put him all the way in your mouth, swallowing as much of him as you can and the warmth has every muscle in his body tense with pleasure. You bob your head quickly for several minutes, watching the way ecstasy paints itself across your boyfriend's face. His mouth is dropped open as sounds spill out of it, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are closed. Curious to see his pupils blown wide you gently drag your nails down his legs and his eyes pop open. You only get a glimpse of the way the pools of brown have all but disappeared behind black before his eyes close again, the sight of you staring up at him with his dick in your mouth to overwhelming for him to keep his eyes on you. When his thighs tense up beneath your palms you let up, standing while he struggles to catch his breath. You lean over enough to kiss him.

"Move back Steven." You mutter against his lips and let him shuffle his way up your bed until his head rests on your pillows. You crawl over him and sit with your legs on either side of him. You litter his neck with kisses, listening for clues of his sensitive spots smiling to yourself when his breath hitches as you nip at a spot just above his collarbone. You work the spot until a bright red mark stains his skin before you sit up.

"Touch me Steven." You tell him grabbing his hand and placing it on your chest. He hesitates for a moment before squeezing the flesh of your boob, noticing the way you gasp when his thumb grazes your nipple through the lace fabric. With a curious look on his face Steven tugs the cups of your bra down enough to reveal your breasts properly, fingers brushing over your nipples repeatedly, watching the way you subtly arch towards his touch.

"You're sensitive here." He mutters.

"Yeah, use your mouth on me." You breathe out. Steven sits up and wraps his lips around one nipple, sucking and licking it as he rolls the other between his fingers. The way moans and whimpers fall from your lips has Steven wanting to stay like this forever if it means the sounds never stop. You take Steven's free hand and guide it between your legs. Just like with your boobs, he's initially unsure of what to do but your fingers press his towards your entrance and he slowly works them inside. The way his digits curl inside you makes you grind against his hand and with dick pressed against your ass he starts to shift at the sudden friction.

"You're so- wet." Steven marvels at the feel and sound of his fingers inside you.

"You made me wet sweetheart, with your pretty sounds and even prettier dick." You say with your lips next to his ear, nipping at the lobe in a way that has him groaning.

"I wanna taste you." Steven mutters, placing kisses along your neck. You pull his hand from you and place it against his lips. He licks his fingers clean with wide eyes looking at you. "That isn't what I meant." He frowns.

"I know. Next time love. Right now I just want to ride you." You tell him raising your hips to shift your lacy panties to the side.

"But-" Steven's complaint is cut off by a harsh grunt as you line him up with your entrance and sink down on him.

"Fuck you're big." You whimper, your head dropping to his shoulder.

"S-Shit you're... warm." He huffs out. Your hands against his chest push him back against the pillows as you brace yourself and begin to bounce on him. Steven's hands grab your hips tightly as you ride him fiercely.

"You look so good under me like this Steven. So so good." You moan when you look down at him. His head is thrown back and he's grabbing you harsh enough to leave marks but fuck if it doesn't feel so perfect the way he fills you.

"W-wait- y/n I'm close." Steven warns you.

"Fuck- you wanna cum inside me baby?" You ask him and his eyes go so wide you'd find it funny in any other situation.

"C-can I?" He pleads with a look that would make you do anything he asks.

"Sure you can. If you want to."

"Gods I want to- but you- you have to cum first." He grunts. You slow your bouncing just a little so you can keep your balance when you take one hand off of him to rub circles against your clit, the bundle of nerves sensitive and swollen from lack of attention.

"F-fuck." You moan, feeling the coil in your belly tighten as you play with yourself.

"Come on love, please cum. Wanna see how gorgeous you look cumming on my dick." Steven begs. He actually begs and his words are enough to send you over spasming against him as you ride out your high. When you start to come down you pick up your pace again, focusing now on making Steven finish.

"Your turn baby. Cum for me. Fill my pussy like you want to." You drag your nails down his chest and he moans loudly as you feel warmth flood your insides. Before you can move off of him, Steven pulls you against his chest, holding you close as he recovers.

"Was that- was I okay?" He asks quietly after a moment.

"You were amazing. Especially for your first time." You tell him.

"Good- great. I'm glad. I didn't want to disappoint you-"

"You could never disappoint me Steven." You cut him off. "But there's still a lot to teach you." You add kissing his cheek.

"We can start as soon as tomorrow." He mutters, his eyes closed as sleep threatens to carry him away.

"No need to rush. You've got plenty of time to learn. I'm not going anywhere." You say rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

"Neither am I." He manages to slur out before finally he falls asleep and you allow the steady beat of his heart to lull you off too.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #moonknight #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight x reader #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #moonknight fluff #moonknight smut

706 notes · View notes

imnotoverlyobsessive · 8 months

Text

Title of Your Sex Tape

Chapter Six: I Want To Fucking Tear You Apart

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight

All my work is 18+.

So much for keeping this just friends, shut up and kiss me now, and we carry on. I don’t wanna say goodnight; the city comes alive when we’re together. Why can’t Thursday last forever? I don’t wanna say goodnight; I’ve never been so sure.- All Time Low, For Baltimore

Lea woke up when Tim stepped through the door an hour or so later.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Mackenzie is just not pleasant to be around.” She noticed he was almost entirely soft. He must really dislike his costar.

His dick twitched when he looked over at her, though. She’d sat up on her elbows, and the blanket slid down, revealing her breasts. “D’you need help?” she asked sleepily.

“A kiss would be nice,” he admitted, moving towards her. “And also possibly some groping.”

Lea giggled, reaching for him instinctively. He knelt down, cupped her face with his hand, and kissed her. It was hungry immediately, like he wanted to breathe her in, starting with her lips, and his other hand reached over to grasp her breast. She moaned into his mouth, sitting up fully and wrapping her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. Tim twisted her nipple, and she gasped, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth.

At that exact moment, however, Lea’s stomach growled.

They both froze, and then Tim laughed against her lips. “Need a snack?”

She pulled away, blushing. “Shuddup.”

He chuckled, leaning back in to kiss her cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. It’s cool, I need to go do my next scene anyway.”

Jealousy twisted in her stomach, but she forced it down. “Are you, uh… y’know, good?”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sweetheart. You consistently get me as hard as a rock.” He gave her a swift peck on the lips before standing back up and handing her her clothes. “Go get something to eat. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Lea pulled her clothes back on, blushing as she did so.

Tim sighed regretfully, gesturing to her clothes. “That’s a national tragedy, honestly.”

She glanced up at him as she pulled her stockings back on. “Why?”

“‘Cause your tits are covered back up, of course.”

Lea flushed again, straightening her top as she stood back up and mumbling, “That’s hardly a tragedy of any level.”

He hummed, opening the door for her. “Agree to disagree.”

She rolled her eyes and headed off in the direction of the break room.

“So,” Susie began, taking a bite of her sandwich, “how’s work goin’? You get along okay with Tim?”

Lea smiled brightly at the other girl. She liked Susie, figuring she understood what being a fluffer was like. “Yeah, Tim’s great!”

Susie nodded in agreement. “He’s very polite.”

Lea smiled again. “Uh uh. He makes me feel really special, too.”

Susie blinked at her, her brows furrowing. “Special? What do you mean?”

Lea flushed, turning her soda can around in her hands. “Well, y’know, he’s always so courteous about making me feel good, too, and he’s so sweet when he kisses me and stuff.”

Susie’s eyes widened in apparent shock. “When he what?” she squeaked.

Lea glanced up at the other girl. “What is it?”

“How long has he been doing stuff like that?” Susie demanded, leaning over the table and examining Lea like she was a museum exhibit.

Lea blinked. “Uhhh… well, he kissed me the first time I was here. The other stuff kinda just escalated from there. Is that, like, not normal or something?”

“Dude,” Susie enunciated slowly, “that is the literal opposite of normal. The actors never kiss the fluffers, let alone touch them. I don’t know if they’re even allowed to.”

Lea’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she squeaked. “I… I didn’t know that.”

Susie looked her up and down. “Yeah, I can kinda see it, actually.”

Lea frowned in confusion. “See what?”

The other girl grinned and took a sip of her drink. “Something tells me you’ll figure it out.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Lea grumbled into her own soda.

Like most New York City apartments, the one Lea shared with her best friend, Sam, was tiny. She was lucky to have her own room. And even so, she still paid fifteen hundred a month.

Tim’s apartment, however, in no way resembled Lea’s shoebox apartment for a number of reasons. The first was that Tim’s apartment was significantly more than four times the square footage of hers. It also had four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, plus a half bath that was literally the same size of the one bathroom she shared with Sam. Its kitchen—which had no less than six burners—was actually big enough to turn around in, had a breakfast table, and a dining separate room to boot.

Tim adored his apartment, mostly because it overlooked the Empire State Building, which was a fact he was weirdly proud of.

Presently, they were curled up under a blanket on the chaise in his bedroom, watching TV. He had his arm around her and was holding her close, the way he often did.

“Lea,” he said suddenly.

She sighed, pausing the show and turning to scold him. “You don’t just interrupt Avatar, Tim,” she told him, completely ignoring the fact that the way he was looking at her made her stomach flutter and Susie’s words race through her mind. “I’ll have to rewind in order to fully appreciate Katara kicking ass.”

He frowned. “Sorry, I just… I have to ask you something.”

She pursed her lips. “Okay…?”

“Do you ever think about work, like… outside of work?” His voice was quieter than normal, and she wondered why, what he was talking about.

Blinking in confusion, she said, “Err, yeah. I talked to Susie earlier. I was thinking maybe I could ask her to hang out sometime.”

He shook his head, curls falling over his eyes. “No, I mean, like…” He took a deep breath, and she wondered what had him acting so damn anxious. He was never anxious. Dude was confidence personified, so what the hell? Finally, he continued, “When you’re not at work, do you ever think about what you and I do at work?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Or maybe it froze. She wasn’t entirely sure. “Uhhhhh…” She gulped. “W— why do you ask?”

Tim looked straight at her when he said, “Because I do. I think about it all the time.”

Her face flamed at the idea of him thinking about the things they did—the things they said—in places that weren’t the studio. “Oh.” She had no idea what to say other than that.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, depending on how one looked at it, Tim filled the silence. “I think about how gorgeous you are, how intelligent and funny and interesting you are, the way you touch me and kiss me and moan my name when I make you cum, how you taste and what your body looks like, how soft you are. How good you feel. I think about what it would be like if I could hold you like this whenever I wanted, if I could wake up every day with you in my arms and kiss you, maybe even fuck you, if you’d let me.”

There was static in her brain. She couldn’t think. Why was he saying these things? “Is… is that why you treat me differently than the other fluffers?”

He furrowed his brow. “There are no other fluffers. There’s only you.”

Lea shook her head impatiently. “No, like, how you’ve treated others before me. How the other actors treat their fluffers. Susie told me that how you treat me is… unusual.”

“It is unusual,” he said simply.

“Then why are you, like…” She couldn’t complete her thought, so instead she just ended with, "Why?”

Tim looked at her for a long moment, and then he bluntly told her, “Because I like you. I like you a lot.”

Was she breathing? She wasn’t entirely certain she was breathing. She may not have been. With a gulp, she managed to squeak out, “Like… as a friend, or…?”

He snorted lightly, his arm finally leaving her. “I do like you as a friend, yeah,” he agreed with a nod. “Adore you, actually. But I adore you as a whole hell of a lot more than a friend, too.”

She couldn’t speak. Her mind was reeling from this information. He liked her? As more than a friend?

How? Moreover, why? She knew he found her attractive for some weird reason (Lea was fully aware that she was decently cute, okay, there was nothing wrong with her appearance, strictly speaking, but she didn’t think she was as sexy as he seemed to find her), but for him to have romantic-type feelings for her…

Well, he’d always been a weirdo, hadn’t he?

“How do you feel about me?” he pressed when she remained silent. “I know sucking my dick turned you on enough for you to touch yourself—“ she sputtered in embarrassment at that— “but how do you actually feel about me? Do you like me, too?”

Lea wrung her hands in her lap anxiously. She probably shouldn’t admit to having feelings for him. It was inconvenient, and she didn’t want to be vulnerable with anyone in that sense, let alone someone of his profession. Not that she had any issues with sex work, of course, she just knew he could never truly love her and also sleep with other girls.

But he knew her too well for him to see through a lie, didn’t he?

Well, shit.

“Y— yeah,” she mumbled out, wishing very much that she could disappear.

Tim took her hand in his then, reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm and lifting her face to his. He was grinning at her, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

She arched into him without really meaning to, and before she knew it, she found herself in his lap. He was kissing her neck—no, wait, he was giving her a hickey—and gripping her ass, squeezing roughly.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Tim groaned. “Been thinkin’ about this for months, sweetheart.”

“God, me too,” she admitted breathlessly.

“Tell me you want me,” he pleaded. “I’d give you anything, baby, just— if you want me inside you, I gotta hear you say it.”

She threaded her fingers into his hair. “I want you inside me, Tim.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, his grip on her ass tightening. “Want you, too, princess. Wanna fuck you so good you can’t even move.”

He trailed kisses down her neck, brushing against the collar of her light blue Burberry knit sweater and sliding his hands under the matching skirt to squeeze her ass over her pink Lise Charmel panties, encouraging her to roll her hips against his. “Yes,” she gasped out. “Fuck, that feels good—“

“I’ll bet it does,” he chuckled. “Rub your pretty little clit against me, sweetheart. You feel how hard I am for you?”

“Uh huh,” Lea whined, leaning her head back as he unbuttoned the top buttons of her sweater.

“Loved how wet you got from my dick in your mouth, baby,” he growled. “Just wait till you feel what it’s like to have it in you, to get fucked nice and hard.”

He undid the rest of the buttons, revealing the pink satin of her bra and squeezing her breasts through it. “Oh, Tim,” she gasped out, arching into his hands.

“I know,” he murmured. “God, look at you. So needy. Can I have it, sweetheart? Will you let me have you?”

Lea nodded frantically, eager to take him inside her. Now that she knew he had feelings for her, too… well, how could she say no when she wanted him so desperately? “Want you,” she whined.

“I can feel how much you want me,” he chuckled, sliding her sweater from her shoulders. “You’ve soaked through your panties.” If she weren’t so turned on, this probably would’ve embarrassed her, but she didn’t have enough blood left in her brain for embarrassment. “Come to bed with me, baby. I’ll make you feel so good, take such good care of you.”

She rocked her hips again, stimulating her clit. “Yes, please.”

Tim picked her up and stood, and she squealed with delight, giggling and wrapping her arms around his neck. He strolled over to the foot of the bed and dropped her onto it. “Take your clothes off,” he murmured, his fixed on her breasts as he yanked his shirt over his head, followed by his sweatpants.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” she observed shakily.

“It would seem I’m not,” he agreed before observing, “Your clothes aren’t off yet.”

“R— right,” she muttered, swiftly undoing her bra and pulling it off, followed by her skirt and panties. Tossing them onto the floor, she glanced up at him, flushing at the blatant desire in his gaze.

“You’re un-fucking-real,” he growled, crawling over her and caging her body in with his. Leaning down on his forearms and cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her, pressing the length of his bare body against her own. “Perfect tits,” he murmured against her lips, squeezing her breasts momentarily before trailing a hand down between them to rub at her. “Perfect pussy.”

He spread her legs with a gentle hand on her knees, and she leaned up to kiss him. She felt as if she’d die if he didn’t touch her, didn’t kiss her.

“Tim,” she manage to gasp out, “please, I want—“

“I know what you want,” he murmured, sucking another hickey into her neck. “I’ll give it to you, Lea, don’t you worry.” He rubbed her clit in slow circles for a few seconds before freezing. “Wait, fuck— lemme get a condom—“

“I don’t want you to use a condom,” she interjected hurriedly. “You’re— I mean, you get tested all the time, don’t you?”

Tim pushed himself off from her, examining her features. “Yeah, I do. Once a week.”

She licked her lips, stomach fluttering at the idea of him inside her, the two of them linked together without any barriers between them. “I’m on birth control,” Lea breathed. “Please, Tim. I want to… I want to feel you.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, jerking down to kiss her hungrily. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you inside me,” she said into his mouth.

“Yes,” Tim groaned, sliding two long, slender fingers into her and curling them. “Let me just… let me get you ready for me, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t care if you hurt me,” she insisted, rolling her hips up into his hand. “Just— please—“

“I care if I hurt you, though,” he told her with a soft chuckle. “You’re a hell of a lot more than a quick fuck to me, y’know?” She tensed at that, but he continued. “You’re important to me, and I really, really like you.” He cupped her cheek with one of his hands. “Sex with you will be amazing, I know it will be, but it’s more than just sex to me, and I need you to know that. I need to know that it’s more than just sex to you, too.”

She smiled up at him. He could be so sweet. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’s more than that to me.”

Tim kissed her then, groaning when she returned it and fisting a hand in her hair. She cupped the back of his head as he took her bottom lip between his teeth and gasped into his mouth when he resumed fingering her.

“Want you,” she begged. “Please, Tim, I want you so bad—“

“Fuckin’ hell, Lea,” he muttered, pulling his fingers out of her. “Are you sure you’re ready for me to—“

“Yes I’m sure,” she cut him off impatiently. “I am absolutely, positively, one thousand percent sure.”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded with an affectionate chuckle as he guided himself to her entrance. “God, you’re soaked.”

“You were just fingering me,” she pointed out, blushing.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, “and that was almost as hot as…” He paused, slipping the head of him inside her. “…This.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck. “Holy fucking— good god, Lea.” He slid further in until she gasped in discomfort, making him pause and lift his face up to examine her expression. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she told him, wincing. “It just… stings.”

“We just need to get you used to it, baby,” he assured her gently, stroking her cheek. “It’ll get better once you’re used to it.”

“If you say so,” she muttered.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

Lea shook her head. “No, you can keep going.”

It took awhile, but eventually, he was fully seated inside her, panting against her neck with exertion. “Jesus Christ,” Tim gasped. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I— I do?” she asked, somewhat surprised. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, exactly.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, lifting himself up to kiss her hungrily. “Tell me when I can move, alright?”

“Go ahead,” she said with a slight nod.

He pulled out a bit, thrusting back in with a slow, controlled exhalation of breath. “How’s it feel?”

Lea considered this. “It feels… weird.”

“What do you mean?”

She furrowed her brow, trying to think of how to word it (which was no small feat when a guy she adored so much was literally inside her). “I feel… full. Stretched.”

He smirked. “Both of those words are accurate, yes.” He thrust again, the movement slow, gentle. “You’re full of me, and I’m stretching you out.” Another thrust, and it… it was starting to feel less uncomfortable. It was starting to feel good. She inhaled sharply, and he asked, “Any better?”

Nodding jerkily, Lea wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. “Don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t,” he promised, thrusting again. “Not unless you want me to. Do— do you like it?”

Before she could answer, he thrust again, and she was certain it felt good that time. The feeling of fullness—of being stretched—was no longer uncomfortable, it was delicious, and she wanted more of it. “Y— yes,” she forced out in between gasps. “It feels… oh, fuck, just don’t stop—“

He kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and grasping her hips firmly. His fingers dug into her skin, holding her against the mattress. It was almost as if his grip on her was him trying to ground himself, control his actions.

One of his hands slid up her side to squeeze her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, and she moaned into his mouth, trying to lift her pelvis to meet his. “Hold still,” he scolded teasingly, trailing kisses down the flushed column of throat. “Stop squirming.”

“I can’t,” Lea admitted, her voice practically a whine. “Feels so good, I can’t— god, Tim—“

“I know, sweetheart,” he reassured her with a hoarse chuckle. “You feel good, too.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted it—ah!—harder?”

Tim squeezed her breast again, twisting her nipple more roughly this time. “It’s your first time,” he explained, panting, “I gotta be gentle with you.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” she insisted. “I want you to show me what you like. Whatever you wanna do to me, that’s what I want.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, fisting a hand in her hair, the tug at her scalp stinging in a way she found more enjoyable than she probably should’ve. “God, you’re fuckin’ perfect. You sure you want it rougher?”

“Yes,” Lea said immediately. “Yes, please.” His achingly slow thrusts were beginning to drive her insane.

The hand in her hair tightened, and she inhaled sharply at the sensation. His other hand squeezed her hip as he pulled out of her, and when he pushed back in again, he slammed in.

She moaned loudly, her back arching off the mattress. Tim leaned down and caught her nipple in his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth as he withdrew again, only to slam his hips back against hers. The abrupt movement made him release her nipple, his teeth scraping it in the process, which was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

“Rough enough for you?” he grunted out in between thrusts.

“Mhm,” she gasped, trailing her hands up his arms. He had more muscle than she would’ve expected or someone so skinny, but when he flexed, it was really quite pronounced.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he told her. “Touch me. I’m yours.”

Something about those words lit fire in her veins, and she smiled up at him in delight, only for the expression to be cut off when he thrust into her again. Trailing her fingertips along his collarbones, up his neck and across the sharp lines of his jaw, Lea relished in the way he leaned into her touch, turning his head so as to kiss her palm.

“Tim, I—“ She couldn’t finish her statement, because he’d slammed into her again, reaching down to grasp her hips firmly. This time, though, there was no contrast between his hold on her and the way he moved inside her. This time, his fingers dug into her, hurting just a little bit as he pressed his palms against her pelvis so as to hold her down, and it matched the rough pace he’d set perfectly.

If it weren’t for his hold on her, she would’ve been scooting across the mattress, so it was probably a good thing, but when he held her down that way, it made her want to buck her hips up against his. She attempted to do so, but he was stronger than he looked. She couldn’t lift her pelvis.

“You take it so well, Lea,” he praised, his voice low and rough. “Take my cock so well, babydoll.” When she did nothing but whine and try to buck her hips again, he slammed into her punishingly with a dark chuckle. “Be good for me. Good little princess, taking my dick like this. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” Still, she could only whine in response, so he gripped her jaw firmly, leaning in to kiss her with a gentle slowness that was almost strange in contrast to how roughly he handled her. “You’d better tell me you like it when I fuck you if you don’t want me to stop,” he chided softly, his lips brushing hers.

Suddenly terrified that he would actually stop, she immediately forced out, “I like it when you fuck me.” The words were somewhat jumbled, her voice a bit raspy, but it seemed to do satisfy him.

“Good girl,” Tim praised, pounding into her. “Oh fuck, Lea, been dreaming about this pussy. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The hand on her jaw migrated to her hair, and he yanked her head to the side so as to mouth wetly at her neck, scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh. When he started working on another hickey, she threaded her fingers into his hair, holding him against her as he fucked her.

“More,” Lea whined, undulating her hips.

“If you want more,” he panted, “stop fuckin’ squirming.”

She barely registered the words, though; he felt too good inside her. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck that’s so good—“

“Greedy girl,” Tim growled, kissing one of the hickeys he’d given her. “Feel your pussy clenching around me, sweetheart, d’you wanna cum?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “I wanna cum, Tim, I wanna cum, please make me cum—“

“Hmmm,” he hummed, considering this as he propped himself up to examine her features. “You gonna be a good girl for me?”

Before he’d even finished the sentence, she was already nodding eagerly. “I’ll be good!” she promised. “I’ll be good for you, I swear, I’ll do anything you want!”

“All I want,” he told her, fucking her slower now, each thrust deep and hard, “is to fuck my fill of you whenever I feel like it.”

She nodded again. “Yes, yes, please—“

He eyed her breasts, squeezing them roughly with one hand. “Look at the way they bounce, Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

“Tim,” she whined desperately, needing to cum so badly she felt as if she’d die.

“You are greedy, aren’t you?” he smirked. “Alright, baby. I’ll make you cum.”

Nearly sobbing in relief when he reached between them, she moaned as he began to rub her clit in hard, fast circles. “God, Tim, I—“

“I know,” he crooned in her ear. “I know you’re gonna cum, sweetheart. You’re gonna cum all over my dick, aren’t you?”

“I want— I want you to cum, too,” she gasped out. “Want you to cum inside me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll bet you do, you dirty little girl. Gonna let me fill you up with my cum, huh?”

“Yessssss,” she hissed, her eyes fluttering as she neared her peak. “God, I’m close, I’m gonna—“

“That’s it, babydoll,” he growled. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

She came, moaning his name desperately.

Tim slammed his hips against hers repeatedly, fucking her roughly before he finally groaned and collapsed atop her.

“How was it?” he panted against her neck several minutes later.

“Huh?” she asked, too dazed to think.

“Your first time,” he clarified. “How was it?”

“Oh.” She blinked, turning the words over in her head until she could actually process them. “It was amazing.”

Lea felt him smile against her skin.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she confirmed, wrapping tired arms around him.

“Glad you enjoyed it, too, then.”

“Mmm,” she hummed sleepily.

“You tired, baby?” he asked gently, sweetly.

“Mhm.”

“Lemme clean you up and then you can sleep, alright?” He stood, and she whined as he pulled out of her. He shushed her with a kiss to her forehead. “Let me clean you up a little real quick.”

“Mmkay.”

She let him maneuver her body around and clean between her legs until he was satisfied. When he rejoined her in bed, he took her in his arms and settled the covers over them.

She yawned, sleepily nuzzling in closer to him.

His arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to her scalp.

She was out before she could formulate another coherent thought.

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake

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xxfangirl365xx · 1 month

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Kobra Kid's answer to : "What is a day you'll never forget?"

Written in my wattpad a few months ago, i posted Jet's here so I'm doing Kobra's too (: enjoyyyy

Mines nothing in comparison to Jet's. I'm gonna go with a nice one. I'm not huge on being sentimental but the day Poison won a bunch of awards for his art in a zone wide exhibit was a great day.

It was mid July 2017. Girl had just come to live with us maybe a month earlier. We had gotten word about a big exhibit that was gonna happen in zone five. Poison had always been a bit of an artist and that's what he always wanted to do with his life before BL/I. He tried to keep his skill sharp in the zones but with limited supplies it was really hard. Honestly it made me really sad to see his dreams crushed. We had been trying to convince him to enter for several days before he gave in. He painted and drew all sorts of things. Scenery, people, emotions...it was really cool. We drove out to zone five and he submitted almost a dozen pieces. We walked around to look at the other entries while they were being judged.

" I wish I hadn't done this." He whined

" Why?" Jet asked

" Because...Look at this stuff... Mine's nothing like theirs." he said sadly gesturing to all the colorful papers and canvas spread out around him.

" Oh stop it." Jet said playfully smacking him

" Your stuff is way better, Pois." Ghoul said trying to cheer him up

" If I were a judge I wouldn't even bother looking at the rest of this stuff. Yours is clearly the best." He finished

" Mmm."Poison said, still not buying it.

" It's really good." Girl said running up next to the red head.

" You're an amazing art dude." She said smiling

He smiled at her, " Thank you Missile." He said bending over to give her a hug.

We all kinda separated and walked around separately but I stayed with my brother.

We walked quietly for a while just looking at the many painted and pastel cacti and sunsets... I'm not an expert but it seemed a little generic to me. I could tell he was getting sadder by the second feeling so much more inferior to the more established artists. Poison has always lacked self confidence in everything. His appearance,personality, skills. And he shouldn't feel bad because he's a unique human being and that's something to be proud of.

Poison sighed.

" You know even if you don't win I'm still proud of you Pois." I said

" You should save the pride for something worth it." He said sadly looking at a charcoal sketch of yet another cactus.

" Nope. I'm still proud of you. And I always will be no matter what you do." I said again.

"..."

" Alright Poison. Enough self pity. Look at this stuff. It's all the same thing. Sunsets and cactus. Boring bland colors and no emotion behind it right?" I asked

" I mean...sorta."

" And you put thought and emotion into your stuff. Colors and variation. "

" Thats-"

" Let me put it this way." I interrupted turning to face him.

" These guys may have some talent and knowledge for sure. They have no creativity to back it up. It's just knowledge.It's kinda like how most people can write...but only a few people can ACTUALLY write, and have a story to tell or a message to get across." I finished. He thought for a second.

" So please...don't be down on yourself for having something a lot of people can only dream of. Both knowledge AND creativity." I said, pulling him into a tight hug.

He hugged me back and I could feel him release all the tension in his body.

" Thanks Kobra." He said

" Anytime. "

*STATIC*

"WILL PARTY POISON PLEASE MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE JUDGES TABLE AT THIS TIME" a loudspeaker screeched out

" I saw a flash of fear in my brother's eyes.

" relax. You got this alright?" I said

" Yeah... " He said walking away. He looked back at me and I gave him a thumbs up.

I found Jet, Ghoul and Girl.

" Why did they want Poison?" Ghoul asked

" Dunno..." I responded.

*STATIC*

"WINNERS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED AT THE JUDGES TABLE! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED THIS YEAR AND WE CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!"

They went to the front as they were instructed and saw Poison grinning ear to ear with all his colorful creations displayed hung with diy ribbon's. He ran up to us and immediately hugged me.

" Thank you for always believing in my Kobra." He whispered

" Anytime." I said

He was wearing a scratched and chipped gold metal with the engraving of " Track and Field champions" crossed out with a sharpie to read " Reigning Zone art champion."

Everyone hugged and congratulated him. He picked up Missile Kid and spun her around while she laughed.

" I told you you'd win!" she exclaimed.

I Know it's nothing I really did but I'm still proud of my big brother for everything he has done and has yet to do. He's been competing and winning competitions all over the Zones ever since and I'm so happy to see him being what he always wanted to be.

Anyways, thanks for listening to me ramble,

Kobra Kid out

#my chemical romance #mcr #gee way #gerard way #g way #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #my chemical fucking romance #danger days #the fab four #the fabulous killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #party poison #kobra kid #jet star #fun ghoul

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carolmunson · 2 years

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sweet you rock, sweet you roll

welcome to 1990 where our besties are still on the early side of their lil’ love journey. for those that are new here, i use the name ‘Stella’/'Stella Rink’ as a fill in for 'Y/N’, so don’t get thrown off if you see it. it’s still a 'reader’ fic. cw: swearing, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receving), kissing, touching, honestly some of the cutest shit i’ve ever written, daddy kink mention if you squint, two people being in love with each other, fluff, smut, fluffy smut. sort of casual dominance but not really? he just likes to do stuff for her. —

“No, can’t go there,” Eddie’s voice sounded a little tinny over the phone, but happy to talk to you just the same. You’d been on two dates already, planning the third after a three week hiatus while you went on a press tour. Now you were both back in California, and he’d been itching to see you again. “Why can’t you go to Rappaport? Not like the food or something?” you ask, looking at the list of restaurants your assistant brought you. “Oh no, like, I can’t go there,” he urged, “I’m banned.”

“Oh,” you say, “So definitely not Rappaport then. How’s Sorrelli’s sound?” “Banned.” “Deltas?” “Banned.” “Rain Bar?” “So banned that I can’t even be on the block, sweet thing.” “How many places are you banned from?” “Thirteen. At least in Southern California,” he explains, you can tell he’s proud of it.

“Ed…why? Where are we gonna go to dinner?” you asked with a whine.

“Fuck dinner, let’s do something metal,” he says, like you know something metal, like you know the difference between a bass and an electric guitar.

“Like the planetarium?” you ask, it’s a joke and he laughs so hard into the speaker that you have to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Oh Stell, that’s so sick,” he says, “Fuckin’ love the planetarium.”

So you went, in disguise – baseball hats and sunglasses – dressed down. As dressed down as Eddie could be in his metalhead get up. No one called the paps, the science museum employees didn’t jump and squeal when they saw you, you got to just be. You held hands during the presentation, giggling and ‘Ooh’-ing at the projections, laughing when the little kids at the show would shriek and say little kid things to their parents. Eddie would cast glances at you, admiring your face in the blue light reflecting off the 360 screen, he wanted to keep the moment as a photograph in his brain that he could whip out whenever he wanted. You were so happy next to him.

You toured the rest of the place when the show was over, looking at all the telescopes, listening to the tour guides exhibits. Some parents nudged each other, and looked in your direction and as you left a little boy came over to tug at Eddie’s jacket.

“Are you Eddie Munson?” he asked, his front tooth missing.

“Yeah dude, what’s your name?” he said, squatting down to get on his level.

“I’m Chris,” he said, a big smile spreading over his face.

“Hey Chris, how old are you? You just lose a tooth? That’s pretty metal, man,” he smiled, flashing his straight white teeth at him.

“Six!” he said, holding up his hands to show him the number, “The tooth fairy came and everything. She gave me a quarter!”

“A quarter? That’s rad,” he said, fishing into his back pocket for his wallet, “You know something? She gave me another dollar this morning to give to you for having such a cool smile.”

“Chris, you can’t be running off like that,” a guy with bleach blonde hair that hit his chin with a battle vest on that rivaled Eddie’s was jogging up to the little boy, “You’re gonna be the death of me kid, who you talkin’ to?”

The man scooped Chris up, resting him on his arm above his hip, “Dad, it’s Eddie Munson!”

Eddie stood up and nodded to Chris’s dad, “Hey man.”

“Oh shit dude, hey,” he had the same smile as his son, just with all his teeth, “Big fan, holy shit.”

“Big fan of your little dude, here,” Eddie said, “The tooth fairy actually gave me a dollar this morning to give to him, if that’s cool.”

“That’s real cool of you man,” the man said, “Thanks for talkin’ to my boy, takin’ the time.”

“Don’t sweat it, what’s your name?”

“Phil,” the guy beamed.

“Have a sick day, Phil. See ya later, Chris.”

“See ya laterrrr!” Chris called out from over his dad’s shoulder while they walked toward their car. “You’re so good,” you say, nudging his arm, “You’re sweet.”

“Oh no, the jig is up,” he says dramatically, “Now you know how nice I am.” It’s so easy to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can never get yourself to commit to doing it. Your heart fluttered when he reached out to hold your hand to walk back to his car, his ‘84 Mustang SVO – all black. He was so predictable. “Wanna just drive around? I don’t wanna be done hanging out,” he said, opening your door for you. “You gonna drive like you did earlier?” your stomach flipping, remembering all of his fast turns and speeding.

“Nah, I’ll do it nice and slow for ya,” he winked, shutting the door behind you once you got your seatbelt on. “That’s how you like it, right?” he asked, bouncing into his seat. He loved the effect he had on you, watching your cheeks get hot when he got a little dirty. You hadn’t even kissed yet and it was driving him insane, he could barely contain himself when looked at your lips for too long. “Shut your mouth,” you teased, your heart hammering now at his implication. “You know what I’m gonna say,” he said, putting his arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. “‘Make me’?” you guess. “Okay, well now it’s not a fun hot joke because you actually guessed it,” he huffed, fake exasperation flowing out of him. Once you made it to the highway, he put his hand on your inner thigh intuitively. You were buzzing at his warm touch, his thumb grazing the fabric of your jeans. It was so inadvertent, the hold he had on you, he wasn’t even trying. He was just Eddie.

The sun had gone down while you drove through LA, pulling into a McDonald’s drive through when you both said you were hungry at the same time. “Ed, I can’t,” you said while he pulled into the line, the yellow of the lights outside tinging you both through the windshield. “Angel, you just finished a press tour,” he argued, “I know you haven’t eaten in weeks, get a fuckin’ Big Mac and live a little.” “If my trainer finds out –” “I’ll kick your trainer’s ass. Let me order you some fine cuisine,” he said matter of factly, the car dragging up to the speaker.

“Heyyy, can I get two Big Mac meals, one with no onions and extra pickles, and light ketchup, like whisper of it if you can. The other is fine as is,” he leans out of the window slightly, his shirt riding up showing off his tattoos. If you weren’t drooling over him knowing your exact Big Mac order after only hearing it one time two months ago, you were now. “Anything to drink?” “Uhhh, lemme get a – two diet cokes?” he said, “Actually, fuck that, one diet coke, one regular coke cause she’ll want a sip of the regular one. Medium.” “Anything else, sir?” “And uh,” he looked at the car behind you, two kids and a tired mom in the front seat, “I’ll cover whatever the people behind me are getting.” “Are you sure?” the speaker asked back. “Hundred percent,” he said, “That’s all, thanks.” “I’ll let you know your total at the window, sir,” the speaker said. You ate in the parking lot in the car, watching families and cars walk by – oblivious to the two of you. “Can I have a sip of your–” “Yeah, baby, have the rest,” he said, passing you his regular Coke and taking your diet Coke, popping it in his cup holder. “I don’t want the rest,” you say back, but you know it’s a lie and so does he, so he doesn’t bother fighting you over it.

You ended up back at his place, it was closer and the traffic on the way to yours was brutal. It was very much a rockstar mansion, black and chrome and red all over. Vaporwave elements and neon at every turn, it would’ve been more cool if you were less exhausted. He was jittery when you ended up in his room, like this wasn’t his intention, “Uh, do you want some pajamas or something?” “T-shirt works,” you assure, “Do I get to pick the band?” “Absolutely not,” he says with a shake of his head, “I’ll pick for you.” He rummages through his drawers, fishing out a Black Sabbath ‘75 concert tee and tossing it to you. You tiptoe to the master bathroom to change, stepping out anxiously in just his t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. He’s sat on his four poster, now just in his jeans and his t-shirt from earlier – wallet, belt, vest, and shoes discarded elsewhere. When you asked why the bed frame looked so industrial he told you not to worry about it, but the metal loops on the posts gave you a pretty clear idea. He bit his lip when he saw you come out, a vision in his t-shirt with your hair down, your glossy lips tight in an embarrassed smile. You folded your clothes and put them on the bedside table closest to you, climbing onto the bed and sliding against the cool satin to lay on your side. He crawled up the bed to lay across from you, half of your faces hidden by the pillows you were laying on.

“We can watch a movie or something,” he suggests, but your sleepy face steers him away from it. Eddie’s soft gaze lingers on you, a shaking finger skating down the side of your thigh, “We can just stay like this, too.”

He watches your eyes flutter closed and then look back to him through heavy lids, mumbling into the satin pillowcase, “I like this. Bein’ next to you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his ribcage could’ve snapped open, “I like being next to you, too.” He skated his finger back up your thigh, his hand palming the flesh over your hips. Eddie toyed with the hem of his shirt on you, fingering the fabric between his fingers. It had been through the ringer too many times to be worn out in public anymore. It was a thousand times in the washing machine soft, but to him, it wasn’t softer than the skin under it. He saw it all peeking out through the holes in the sleeves and at the neckline – just falling apart. He was falling apart just the same.

“Can I um, can I get closer to you?” his voice sounded like he was back in eighth grade on Valentine’s Day, passing out carnations to the pretty girls and going home with none.

You don’t respond verbally, just shimmying your body over the black satin duvet and lazily swinging your leg over his hip. He let you pull his arm over your waist, his hand falling onto the mattress behind you while the crook of his arm laid snugly between your hips and your ribcage. He brings his hand to splay across your back, tracing shapes between your shoulder blades.

Your noses are just about touching and looking at each other is a little distorted but he still breathes out, almost a whisper, “You’re so pretty.”

“You keep saying that,” you laugh quietly.

“I don’t think I can stop saying it,” he says. It’s quiet and he can tell by the steadiness of your breathing that you’re maybe ten minutes away from falling asleep. America’s Sweetheart in his bed, in his t-shirt, a little angel on his black cloud of satin sheets.

Eddie let his teeth sink into his lip, nervous was an understatement. He filled the small gap between your noses, his eyes closing too, “I really like you, Stell.”

“Hmm,” your soft sleepy moan was comforting, the little smile tugging at your lips made his throat tighten. Maybe you’d only heard him in a dream.

“I really like you, Ed,” you half whisper, stretching your arms and legs and letting them crash back over him, “Big crush.”

“You got a crush on me?” he teased, blushing redder than the bouquet of roses he sent to Chrissy Cunningham for her birthday his Junior Year. Saved up his pay from the auto shop for a month to afford them only to forget to sign the card. Jason saved the day by saying he got them for her, instead.

“Oh yeah,” you smile, “Huge.”

“I have a big crush on you, too,” he pulls you close to him so your chests are touching. The scent of your perfume hitting him in the chest where the butterflies were begging to get out. Eddie takes his hand from your back to your thigh, gently hoisting it up to align your hips with his. He holds his breath when your arm snakes around him too, tied up like balloon strings – like you’d both float away.

“You’re warm,” you say, looking at his lips while the hand that was on your thigh meets your cheek. You can feel his heart hammering under his No Rest for the Wicked '88 Tour t-shirt, as soft as the one he put you in when you said you were getting tired.

“You’re…” his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“Don’t say pretty, again,” you sleepily tease, “Say something else.”

“Ugh, ya got me, let’s see,” he chuckles, putting his forehead to yours, “You’re…I don’t know Stell, you’re so many things.”

“So…many…things?” you whisper, your lower lip tucking between your teeth.

“Ugh, that was dumb, I’m sorry,” he was embarrassed as soon as he said it, but your eyes perked up from their sleepy state when he did. That teasing glint in your eye that made him feel like a kid on the playground where he got picked first for Ringolevio teams. Hawkins Elementary’s best tagger, fastest runner – shame he didn’t go for the track team – just ran away instead.

“I promise, I’m smooth,” he laughed, letting the hand on your cheek slide further back, a little behind your neck so his thumb rested delicately on your jaw.

“You’re…” he didn’t want to say the love of his life, you’d only been on three dates. How would he even be sure of that? Sure, he felt sure of that, he already called you his wife to his favorite paparazzo – but did you feel sure? He didn’t want to scare you away.

He leaned his head back a little to look at you, your features only lit up by the soft glow of the white Christmas lights artfully hung from the ceiling. He hadn’t really outgrown the early twenties male experience of decorating poorly – at least an interior designer had put them up for him.

“You know at the planetarium when they just showed the stars at the beginning? And it sort of feels like you’re suspended in mid-air? Like, in space?” he asked. You nodded back at him, stifling a laugh building in your throat.

“And you can’t believe the whole galaxy is so big around you, but everything is so bright and so exciting and you know you want to go explore it? But it’s sort of scary, right? Cause y'know, you don’t know how much oxygen you have and god, fuck, I’ve never even been to space camp, I’d never get hired to NASA so –”

“You’re rambling, Munson,” your voice is gentle, and his nervous prattling quells when you raise a hand to rake comfortingly through his hair.

“You feel like that, Stell. Like the whole galaxy. You’rebright, and exciting, and funny and I wanna learn everything about you,” his voice is almost pleading, like he’s asking for an invitation to explore, “But y'know, it’s sort of scary 'cause you’re just so – you’re really it.”

“I’m scared, too,” you admit shakily, your hand matching his behind his neck, your thumb sliding over the barely there stubble on his jaw.

“What? You’re not scared of anything,” he said, searching your face with his big sweet eyes for an answer, “Why’re you scared?”

“'Cause,” you started, becoming a little breathless at his gaze, “No one’s ever looked at me the way you look at me.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone’s always lookin’ at you,” he teased, “I’m just some guy.”

“No, Ed. You really look at me,” it made your heart race to admit it, “Like you’re seeing me, and I – no one ever sees me.”

He put his forehead back against yours, your faces back to being distorted and bug like, “Is this what you mean? Am I seeing you like this?” he laughed your noses squished together. Your giggle makes him overwhelmed like he can’t believe he can make you laugh, that you think he’s funny, that you think of him at all.

“You know what I mean,” you say, back to just breathing, nose to nose.

He nods in agreement against your forehead, his eyes closed for a moment while he breathes you in. Your perfume is still putting him in a tizzy, he’d buy you four billion bottles of it if it meant you’d smell like that forever. His heart is still hammering against your chest, you can feel a nervous film of sweat building on the back of his neck.

“I really wanna kiss you,” his words are barely audible, eyes still closed, his full lashes tickling his cheeks, “I’m tryna be good though, y'know. A gentleman.”

“Such a gentleman,” you whisper back slowly while his eyes flutter back open and closed again. You can feel his strong ringed hand press against the back of your neck, tilting your head up to meet him. Eddie brushes his lips to yours just barely, ghosting over skin at the corner of your mouth. Electricity was thrumming through him, his chest becoming the most metal drum solo he ever heard. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. C'mon Munson don’t be a wimp.

His lips found yours, gentle and timid, warm honey pooled in your stomach at the feeling. You could feel his body tremble while he went in again, his kiss getting more confident, the arm he hid under your pillows snaking out to cup a hand on your other cheek.

Eddie’s mind is just static and the feeling of your lips, the way your hips rocked against his, the softness of your skin. He could’ve guessed that this is how it would be, like he’s known the whole time what your lips would taste like on his. Like they were always meant to be there.

You break away to breathe, looking at him with a heaving chest and pinked tinged cheeks.

“Was that good? W-was that okay?” he asked, catching his own breath, the heat on his body radiating higher and higher.

“More than okay,” you gasp back. Your heart matched his in beating, fluttering wildly in your chest. More, more, more, more, more.

“Should we – can I do it again?” he asked, his caution rivaling when he lost his virginity in the back of his van in his senior year. Seventeen and stupid with an old pack of condoms he stole from the gas station.

You don’t answer, just roll your hips so he’s flat on his back on the mattress with your legs on either side of him. Heat burning in both of your stomachs at the change of position. Eddie can’t think to keep his hands to himself while one arm snakes around your waist and the other one holds your back so you stay pressed flat against him.

The rest is hot breath and teeth and tongue, Ed’s gentle hands brushing over his t-shirt on your body, snaking it under to stroke the skin of your back.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles into your lips, “I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you.” He knows he means it in more than one way, he hopes you don’t notice.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” you say into the next kiss.

“I want to be gentle,” he says, pulling away, “I wanna show you how that feels.”

You blush at him remembering that you complained that other guys you’d been with had always been so stifiling. So focused on their own pleasure, on seeing America’s sweetheart with their dick in her mouth, on showing you off. A trophy to be won, a PR stunt to be had, a body to be masturbated into. No one ever took their time, no one ever even bothered to ask.

You thought he wasn’t listening the first time you had dinner, but he was focused on tucking away every single word you said so he’d never forget it.

“At least until next time,” he smirked, “’M sure I’ll find some other things to show you.”

“Oh, so there’s gonna be a next time?” you tease, sliding your hands from his face to his hair.

“If you’ll have me,” he shrugged, his voice getting playful, “I’d love to be considered.”

“I’ll definitely consider it,” you smiled, sharing a breath with each other before your mouth reaches for him. You let your hips slide over the ever growing bulge in his jeans, savoring the friction against the heat between your legs. A little gasp popping out at the feeling of his hands quickly gripping your hips to steady them.

“Eaassyy,” he hissed out, holding back a breathy groan, “Go slow.”

“I think it would be more fun if you didn’t have these on,” you giggled, sitting up and back on the tops of his thighs, tugging at his belt loops.

“Stella,” his voice comes out with an exasperated edge, “I didn’t – I don’t want you to think that this is the why I invited you back here.”

“I know, Ed,” you said, “It’s okay.”

“Like I didn’t want to just bring you home and take you to bed, y'know? It was just gonna be a long drive back to yours.”

“Eddie, stop, I don’t think you had a master plan or anything,” you put your hands on his chest, your hair falling forward over your own. You looked at each other for a beat, both of you mulling it over.

“If they come off it’s like…that’s it,” he laughs, putting the heels of his hands over his eyes.

“I can’t believe I just told Stella Rink not to grind too fast on my dick,” he scolds himself with a cheesy grin, “Every man in America would literally die to be me right now.”

“Y'know I have a really big following in Budapest, too,” you laugh back, “If you’d believe it.”

He sits up to meet you with a kiss, “I believe it.”

“I think I’m the first girl you’ve ever told to slow down,” his heart pangs a little when you say it. You are the first girl he’s ever told to slow down.

“Not every day I have Andromeda in bed with me,” he mutters, maneuvering you off of him while pulling at his belt. He gets off the bed to peel his jeans off, standing there in his black boxer briefs, a sheen in the fabric glinting in the low light. His pulse throbs in his throat while he takes his shirt off, anxious if you’ll still like him without any clothes. He was running a little thinner these days, coming back from a particularly rough time with some friends in low places – he didn’t tell you how long he’d been clean. He didn’t tell you anything at all. You sat on your knees on the mattress, satin sheets sliding under you, taking him in. Every inked tattoo flashing harsh against his fair skin, the hair on his stomach trailing down behind black nylon. The veins on his arms protruded down to his hands where his rings sparkled. His soft pink lips slightly parted while he reached up to shake his frizzed curls out. “Wow,” your eyes are glassy and round while you look at him, your body pins and needles as he steps to the edge of the bed. Eddie pulls you in, sucking in your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your jaw. You hiss when he gets the base of your neck, your knees parting under you. “Right there?” he asked into your skin, his tongue slipping over that spot again. You can feel his confident smirk against your collar bone. “Mhm,” you whine, “R-right there.” Eddie tugs the neckline of the shirt to the side to leave soft kisses on your shoulder, the other hand smoothing over the curve of your waist. “You can take it off,” you blurt out. He pulls away from your shoulder, looking at you like you just told him he was playing Madison Square Garden for the first time. “Your shirt? My shirt?” he asked, his voice cracking, “I mean, the shirt you’re wearing?” He swallowed hard when you nodded and reached for the hem, gathering the worn fabric up over your arms. Your hair flounced back down, messy but somehow still in place. He kept the shirt in his hands while he looked at you, holding his breath. “Ed, you’re…” you suddenly felt self-conscious, his eyes lingering too long to just see your body. His gaze was pouring into you, “You’re giving me that look again.” He blinked and shook his head, letting out a sharp exhale through the mouth, “Baby, you’re – you’re perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, Ed,” you blush, your whole body burning. “No, no, I think you’re being modest,” he says, gently guiding you to lay back on the bed again. The shirt you were wearing had been forgotten, discarded on the floor. He placed himself between your legs, taking one of your arms to kiss just above your wrist, the crook of your arm, your bicep – he took his time, flicking his gaze down to you with each one. He put your arm down, caging you in with each of his arms on the side of you, leaning down to kiss the top of your chest. Sloppy and wet, leaving spit in their wake, his hair tickling over your breasts.

Eddie couldn’t hold back a moan when he let his tongue slide between them, a hand reaching to softly massage one. Your whine made his eyes roll back when the rough pad of his thumb slid over your nipple, back and forth, watching the other one peak in time. His lips lingered over it, looking at you almost to ask if it was okay, you nodded feverishly. His tongue swirled and flitted over the nub of skin, smiling as he heard your first quiet ‘oh god’ fall from your mouth. He’d soothed you while you squirmed underneath him, moving from your breasts to your sternum, down to your stomach, your pelvis. Eddie’s tongue and lips only stopping to whisper soft little nothings into your skin like ‘you’re so perfect,’ and ‘be patient, baby’.

He got to your underwear and paused, on his knees on the mattress between your legs. Eddie let his hand run over your thigh, dipping his fingertips down to the soft inside flesh. You shivered.

“Is it okay if these come off?” he asked, fingers exploring from your thigh to the tops of your panties.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” you turn red at the question, no one had ever asked you that before. You were never really given so much choice. He was slow about sliding them off your body, watching them flow down your thighs and calves at the guide of his hands. Once they were making friends with your discarded t-shirt on the floor, he looked back up at you.

You cross your legs, nervous and excited for what he might do next. It felt good to not know, to let him take the lead. He touched you exactly how you liked to be touched, like he’d been studying it for years. You watched him make a mental note of every little gasp or whine you let out, every involuntary shiver.

His hands wrapped around your ankles, uncrossing your legs and putting them back on either side of him. He hoisted your legs up from under your knees, slowly parting the limbs until they were splayed out like butterfly wings. Childlike excitement bubbling in his chest, opening the biggest present from under the tree. There you were, your puffed up lips parting just slightly, the sticky sound of them separating over slickness whispering in the room.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, a pot of honey to a bear, he’d never had so much restraint in his life, “Fucking beautiful.”

You blush, you don’t know if you’ve stopped blushing, your hands immediately going up to cover your face. You feel his finger trace over the manicured patch of hair between your legs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wax,” you mumbled behind your palms, “I didn’t think we were gonna…I didn’t think you were gonna see it tonight.” “Sorry you didn’t wax?” he asked, your eyes peeking out through your fingers. He’s grinning down at you, his eyebrows quirk, he can’t believe you’d apologize, “I’m a grown man, Stell.”

“Let me see your face,” he said, “Wanna watch you, watch me.” “You’re so bad,” he sees your smirk while you say it, your hands coming down flop next to your head. “What? I like an audience,” he shrugged with a wink, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. His salivary glands are working double time while your hips move slowly underneath him. Eddie lets out a soft hum when your thighs twitch, his lips pressing more sloppy kisses against the soft and plush flesh. You can feel his breath at the crease of your leg to your groin, biting your lower lip while a soft desperate mewl shoots out of you. “I’ll get there, I’ll get there,” he teases, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, “I take it I don’t have to ask if this is okay?” “It’s so okay, Ed,” you huff, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him down the slope of your body. Eddie’s flat on the mattress on his stomach, propped up on his own elbows so he can push your thighs back and out. The guitar pick on his necklace dangling dangerously close to your entrance. He lets his tongue stripe up one lip, a huff of breath left at the top, your hips jumping at the feeling. He’s slow, licking up the other, ducking out of your hand reaching out to put his face between your legs. “So impatient,” he chides, “No wonder your assistant thinks you’re a nightmare.”

You let out a laugh, your head falling back and exposing your neck – he thinks he might love you like this. You might be the person he loves the most.

Eddie waits for you to look back down at him before giving in to you. You could’ve sworn those big brown eyes were magnetic with the way your gaze snapped to his. He kissed the fleshy part of your thigh again before finally sliding his tongue in a flat stripe between your folds, lingering over your clit but not touching it.

The gasp you let out made his head swim, ‘more of that’ he thought. His tongue flicked over your clit just once, your thighs twitching again, desperate. Tears wet your eyes as the anticipation built in your stomach, your chest feeling hot. “Please more,” you whined out, it came out a little more pathetic than you hoped, “Don’t tease, s’not fair.”

“Sorry, angel,” he smirks up at you, cockines falling into his voice, “Not polite to play with your food, huh?” You shook your head no, your mouth falling open at his tongue going back to work. Soft and slithery, you could feel him exploring you, dipping inside you to drag your fluids up and around while you just got wetter beneath him.

“Oh that’s – that feels so good,” you drawl out, his lips suctioned loosely over the bud of your clit switching agonizingly between sucking and licking, fluttering and vibrating while your walls clenched around nothing. “Can I use my fingers?” he asks, fingertips trailing your inner thigh, “Make you feel even better.” “Yes,” you rasp out, shaking on your elbows, knowing you weren’t going to last much longer. With his tongue still working your clit, you barely register his ringed finger teasing your opening until the first thick knuckle presses past your walls. “Oh fuck,” you hiss through gritted teeth. He wasn’t looking up at you anymore, eyes closing while his finger disappeared into your entirely, curving upwards to toy with your g-spot. He was completely in his own world where it was just him and your pussy, the sound of your moans, and the way your hips bucked against his unrelenting mouth and fingers.

“‘M gonna cum,” you pant while his ring finger meets his middle finger inside of you, stretching you out. You can’t believe how full you feel from just the two of them alone. “Oh baby, I know,” he breathes against your thigh, “I want you to.” “Wanna cum – ooh! mmm – with you inside me,” you beg him. He’s suddenly stupid after hearing your admission - with you inside me, with you inside me, with you inside me - ringing in his ears on a loop. His fingers slide slowly out of you and go to the mattress where he presses himself back up onto his knees. “You’re sure you want to? I know we’re in the moment,” he said, sliding his hands comfortingly up and down the sides of your thighs, “I don’t want you to feel like that’s what I want, so you have to.” “I want to,” you say, breathless and empty feeling, “I want you.” He maneuvers you, propping all the pillows up nice and fluffy and placing you over them, just your lower half down on the mattress. The rest of you on a mine of goose down feathers and black satin. Eddie’s next kiss is deep and wanting, hands immediately cupping your cheek and wrapping around the back of your neck. Your hands find his boxer briefs and he swats them away while breaking the kiss, “Again with the impatience Stell, your assistant must hate you.” Even his mischievous smile is endearing while he teases you, hopping quickly off the bed and sliding his underwear off. You can’t help the bulge in your eyes when you see it for everything it is – and its fucking big. “Yeah, yeah, the rumors are true, whatever,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. If there was anything you knew about Eddie before you met him was that every tabloid rag in America would have an exposé from an ex girlfriend or lover that said something along the lines of ‘Awful guy, huge dick.’

“Oh-kay big shot,” you tease back, while he climbs back on the bed between your legs, “Reel it in there.” He hits that spot on your neck again with his tongue and your back immediately arches, a soft and satisfied purr coming from his chest. He pulls at your hips, dragging you further down the mattress, the tops of your thighs kissing your chest. “You ready?” he asks while guiding the swollen tip of his cock to just outside your entrance. “Are you?” you ask gently. “Very,” he says, stroking himself long and slow, “I know you’re gonna feel as good as you taste.” The sentence comes out of him primarily and gutturally. Your walls flutter while he shifts closer, just the soft skin of the tip pushing into you at first. You watch his face as he pushes in slowly, his mouth hanging open with a huff, his head tilting forward on a hinge.

“God, fuck,” Eddie huffed into your hair while falling down against your chest, pushing into you to the hilt. He laces fingers with yours, pressing your hands into the mattress while he thrusts again, “Feel’s so fucking good, sweet thing.”

“Pussy like fucking velvet, Jesus,” his words coming between ragged breaths, whining, The grinding of his hips finding a slow and steady rhythm inside you.

You could barely talk, just choked gasps and breathy moans pouring out of your mouth while he rocked into you, your body barely accommodating his size. White blinding your eyes while the curve of his cock met the edge of the sensitive spongey button inside of you, over and over.

“Ooh, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” the words peppered out of you desperately, your hips rolling in time with his slow thrusts. Your sweat blending between your chests, leaving no space between you, “Just like that, Eddie.”

His face slacks, his brain nearly turning off at the sound of you moaning his name, coming back to reality quickly while his lips find your neck. He lets go of one of your hands to prop himself on a forearm, looking down at you, stealing a kiss as you moan into his mouth.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, a question he normally says with a mocking confidence when he’s backstage making groupies scream into his dressing room couch. Tonight it’s genuine and soft because he actually wants to know. Is he making you feel good? Do you feel what you’re doing to him? Can you tell he’s falling in love with you?

“It feels…huhn…it feels,” your breathy gasps answer for you.

“Don’t hate me for saying it sweetheart,” he starts with a smirk, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “But you’re so pretty like this.” “God, can I be anything else?” you giggle, a little moan squeaking out while his thrusts quicken. “You could um,” he gulped and swallowed, slowing down his pace to a stop, still staying inside you, “You could be my girl? If you want?”

You don’t reply at first and you can feel an embarrassed heat flash through his body. His mouth starts and doesn’t stop, barely breathing between words, “Totally get it if you just wanna keep hangin’ out though. If you hate labels, I hate labels – right, baby? Y’know, I wasn’t planning on asking under these circumstances – was gonna maybe ask on our next date. Not that I’m assuming there would’ve been a fourth date but like, I figured maybe you might want to see me again. I definitely would’ve wanted to see you again. Thinking about it now, literally five seconds later, I probably should’ve waited. Holy shit, I’m such an asshole – who does that? Who asks that while they’re fucking? I mean Jesus Christ, talk about manipul –” “Hey,” you say, putting your pointer and middle finger on the center of his lips, “You’re rambling again.” You lean up to meet him, taking your fingers away and replacing them with your lips. He involuntarily starts his rhythm again, sliding in and out of you with ease, feeling your heels bounce against his lower back. You quietly look at each other and your breath hitches, not just from how good he feels inside you, but from that look. You might love him, you might be falling in love with him. You might be so terrified of him that you can’t breathe, that you can’t think straight. Maybe he’s the best of the worst guys you could be with – or maybe he was the best of the best. Maybe you’re being fooled by his messy hair and big brown eyes, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles at you. A charming little scorpion that’s waiting for you to give him a ride on your back across the river. Maybe he’s just like the snake tattooed down the right side of his ribs. “Sorry, ‘m just nervous,” he said, “You make me so nervous Stell. I feel like a fuckin’ teenager when you’re around.”

Nevermind. He’s an angel. He buries his face in your neck, returning to his steady pace. You weren’t expecting him to be so vocal this way, grunting and moaning while he fucked you. You’d expected mean taunting words, you expected him to mock you, to make you tell him how good he makes you feel. To be honest, as hot as it was to hear him in your ear while he pleasured you, you sort of wanted to know more about the authentic Eddie Munson sexperience.

Eddie pushed off you and on his haunches, angling your hips further back with his hands on the backs of your thighs. A high moan peeled through you when he pushed into you again, hitting every spot he could with his cock, he felt it too. Your moan reverberated back to you, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling, ringing in both of your heads. He was fucking you slow, but still managing to fuck you dumb. “Feels so good inside me, daddy,” you whimper out, not even knowing where that name came from. You’ve never called a man that in bed before. Eddie’s voice and eyes darken, his little devilish smirk passing across his face, “Careful with that name, baby. Don’t want him to come out too soon. Daddy isn’t nice like me.” You turn bright red but you aren’t sure if it’s from embarrassment or because you desperately want to know how not nice he can get, “I never say that, oh my God.” “That’s okay,” he said, hips finding a quicker rhythm now that he knows where you’re at, “You can meet him next time, yeah?” “Yeah,” you whine out, your voice getting small. “You want it a little harder?” he asks, gentle, gentle, gentle. “Mhm,” you say, eyes glassy up at him. He knows you’re at his mercy now, fucked silly, needy for it. He wants to slide into his regular routine – flip you over and pound you out with your ass up in the air, begging and crying for more. But no. You’re different, he wants to see you cum, he wants to see you love it. He wants to watch you love what he does to you. Eddie keeps his hands on the backs of your thighs, his thrusts getting harder and faster. Your head immediately pushes back into the pillows under you, barely able to contain yourself at the feeling. “Ah fuck, I’m close,” he hisses through heavy breaths, sweat sliding down his face from under his hair. You can hear the clap of his balls and hips against your ass, feel the grip on your thighs, the sound of his ragged chest. The euphoric slide of his cock slamming into you, pace getting erratic as he got closer to the edge. You’d been teetering on your orgasm since he pulled his fingers out of you, riding the coast of it while he made love to you. The coil tight in your belly close to snapping as he looks down at you, hungry and loving – that look. That look. He leans back down against you, knowing you need a little extra coercion to make it over the edge. Eddie’s hair tickles your chest while he gets back to the base of your neck, right at your favorite spot, his teeth drag gently over it. “Oh!” you cry out while he sucks up part of the skin, his tongue swirling, teeth gently coming down on it. The coil snaps, sending you reeling – you don’t know if your loud ‘Oh, God!’ is you moaning his name or not, but he’s moaning yours in your ear.

“That’s it Stell, cum for me. So good f’me, baby, so good…” You can feel hot ropes of his cum being let out inside you, warming you up from the inside out. He stays inside while you both come down, covered in sweat, heaving breathing into each other.

Eddie brings his head up, heart pounding like it was before he kissed you, and rests it gently against your forehead. He nuzzles your nose against his, coming in for a soft kiss. His voice when he speaks is small and innocent, almost boyish: “Can I keep you?”

You nod against his forehead, both of your eyes closed. He wraps his arms around you while rolling off to the side, spooning up behind you. He wants to scream at your nod, to do a victory lap, to call Wayne and tell him that he’s dating the biggest movie star of the early 90s. “Wanna be your girl, Munson,” you say sleepily, snuggling back into him. “You are my girl, Rink,” he murmurs, sleep sneaking into his voice, too, “Gonna be my wife one day.” “Gonna be your wife,” you repeat back. “Gonna be my wife,” he says again, with a soft kiss on your shoulder. The glow of the room comes back to you when you open your eyes, you know you should get out of bed and clean up – and you will. But for right now, this is nice. To be held by a maybe scorpion on a ride across the river, the sweetest boy you ever met who is banned from 13 restaurants in southern California, an angel with horns under his halo. Your boy. His girl. Gonna be his wife one day.

#rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson au

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liaromancewriter · 11 days

Text

It Happened One Miami Night (3/?)

Series Premise: A work trip to Miami means finally accepting that some risks are worth taking. Or are they?

Fandom: Choices Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,430

Series Masterlist

A/N: I live! Seriously, though, I've been really sick the last few days; today's the first day I've actually felt like writing. I also don't know where I'm going with this series except for this idea of filling in blanks for moments we didn't see. Pray that I figure it out before I start rambling.

Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24; dialogue prompt "come on, it'll be fun"

She might have been invited (ordered, more like) under false pretenses, but that didn’t mean she was wasting this opportunity. Still in awe of hearing medical greats in person, Cassie Valentine put her hands together for the chorus of applause that followed Dr. Hadley’s fireside chat.

Ethan Ramsey, the epitome of medical excellence, was Cassie’s ultimate inspiration. Yet, Rebecca Hadley, with her profound knowledge and charisma, was a close second in Cassie’s admiration.

Cassie's eyes darted hopefully towards the front as the room began to clear. Her heart sank at seeing the long queue of Dr. Hadley’s admirers. Disappointment washed over her, but she was determined not to let this opportunity slip away. However, the organizers pulled Dr. Hadley away before she could step forward.

Cassie checked the event schedule on the conference app and figured she had enough time to grab some swag for Elijah before the next session. She still hadn’t heard from Ethan.

No! She wasn’t going to think about him. This time was for her.

Ethan was her attending, that’s it. No, he wasn’t Ethan. He was Dr. Ramsey. Cassie repeated this to herself, a mantra reminding her of her resolution to move on and break the spell he’d cast on her.

She thought this weekend was already proving challenging, recalling their conversation after the Nash debacle. They hadn’t even been to their suite yet or figured out how they were going to spend two nights in close quarters. Would he casually dismiss her from his presence then, too?

Shaking off the anxiety, she entered the exhibit hall and made a beeline for the first table. They gave out branded pens; they were nothing special, but her friend wasn’t picky. Besides, Elijah lost at least two pens daily and would use them all.

With her tote bag bulging, she was halfway down this row when she spied a booth handing out frisbees. She sped up, grabbing the last one as someone reached for it. Cassie turned sideways and found herself in a tug-of-war with another attendee.

“I was here first,” she tugged the plastic disk a little too forcefully.

“Debatable.” The man grinned charmingly before letting go. “But my mother raised a gentleman,” he glanced at her lanyard, “Cassie.”

“Thanks,” she stared at the name tag in her line of sight, “Evan. My compliments to your mother.”

“Wait till I tell her how her lessons on manners led me to my future wife.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking.

“Wow, you’re easy,” Cassie quipped. “Beat a guy at the Swag Olympics, and his true intentions come out.”

His lips twisted in a half smile, and he eyed her tote. “First conference?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Evan laughed. “First-timers always grab too much stuff. Then, you realize you can’t possibly take it home in your carry-on and start throwing out perfectly good swag.”

That made her pause. The space in her luggage was indeed limited. Still, she promised Elijah goodies, and she would deliver them.

“It’ll be okay,” she shrugged, unconcerned.

“I heard Panacea’s giving out briefcases,” Evan said, stepping closer, just at the edge of her personal space. “I was just heading there.”

Cassie caught the unspoken invitation in his voice and the interested look in his eyes as he peered intently at her. She started to decline, not wanting another run-in with Declan Nash, when their phones pinged.

“Oh wow, I don’t believe it,” Evan exclaimed, staring at his phone. “They just added Dr. Ramsey to a panel. It starts in twenty minutes.”

He glanced at her over his phone’s screen, his eyes filled with eager excitement. “He’s amazing. Man, what I’d do to work with him. I tried matching at Edenbrook last year, but their residency is super competitive.”

“I know,” Cassie said quietly, but Evan didn’t hear her as he continued talking.

“…got into Grady, so not a total loss. How about you?”

“Edenbrook. First year, internal medicine.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “Have you met Ramsey, then? What’s he like? Are rounds with him a masterclass in diagnostic excellence?”

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she supposed to tell a stranger that she had not only met Ethan but fallen hard for him? That when he focused those laser blue eyes on her, she melted, heat pooling in her belly, fingers itching to touch him everywhere?

Ethan was a complicated man who hid his emotions behind an austere exterior. But when he let his guard down and let her in, she fell through a rabbit hole, knowing her life would never be the same again.

“Rounds with him are intense,” was all Cassie said, keeping her expression neutral.

Ten minutes later, she reluctantly followed Evan into the ballroom where Ethan’s session was taking place. Despite the last-minute announcement, the room was almost full, with just a few empty seats scattered around the room.

“See? I told you the room would be packed early,” he said, scanning the space.

They shoehorned their way to the center of the room, hopping over bags and feet to park themselves on two chairs in a row of theater seating. Cassie almost tripped over the ankles of a woman who wasn’t keen to let them pass, but Evan helped keep her upright.

Cassie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Ethan’s tall figure standing off to the side of the raised dais. He must’ve gone to the suite, for he was now wearing a blazer over the black shirt and gray slacks from this morning.

He hadn’t noticed her, and she doubted he would, given the size of the crowd. Still, she slumped slightly in her seat, practically hiding behind the person seated in the row before her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She turned to face Evan, her brow raised in confusion.

“A few of us are getting together later,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s nothing fancy—cheap booze, music, dancing on the beach.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’m here with my attending. He might need me for work.”

“All night?” Evan asked skeptically. “He doesn’t seriously expect you to be on call all weekend? Give the old man the slip and join us.”

When she still looked doubtful, he insisted, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Cassie scoffed. “What makes you think you’ve earned my number?”

“My eternal optimism?”

“Nice try,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m on the conference app. Ping me the deets there. No promises.”

The emcee called the room to attention, and the commotion around them died down, replaced by excited anticipation. He introduced the session topic and speakers, reading a brief bio for each panelist.

Despite her earlier intention, Cassie straightened in her seat, unable to look away as Ethan joined his fellow panelists on the stage. As soon as the applause subsided, the moderator smoothly jumped into the discussion, throwing Ethan the first question.

Sprawled in a deep armchair, he held the microphone close to his lips, punctuating his point with a wave of his hand. He spoke eloquently, captivating everyone in the audience and the panel.

Cassie envied his effortless confidence and hoped that one day, she would be as secure in her abilities as a doctor.

She noticed how relaxed Ethan was now compared to earlier. He was in his element now, and it showed. Unlike the uncertainty of the situation with Naveen, sharing his opinions on managing medical resources during large-scale emergencies was easy.

Evan tried to engage her in conversation, leaning too close for comfort, but she ignored him beyond a quick nod. She hadn’t reflected on this topic before but found the discussion and subject area fascinating.

Cassie thought she knew Ethan’s career well, being his biggest fan and all. But she had no idea he’d volunteered in disaster zones during his residency and fellowship. Was there anything the man hadn’t done in the ten short years since he became a doctor?

And was he just as good in bed as he appeared out of it? The naughty voice broke through her thoughts, making her blush.

Cassie surreptitiously scanned faces around her to make sure no one had noticed her face turning red (or the way her skin flushed from the neck down as her breath hitched). It was damn inconvenient.

Listening to Ethan being, well, Ethan, was clearly turning her on.

So much for her resolution. All Ethan had to do was talk passionately about medicine, and she was ready to kiss his breath away.

The weekend just got a whole lot more complicated.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #open heart choices

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

Text

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part II/X

Pairing: dark!Alpha stepbrother Ransom Drysdale x innocent!naive Omega stepsister reader, dark!Alpha Curtis Everett x innocent Omega reader

Words: ~2.8k

Summary: Ransom is already loving how pliable and willing you are to go along with his rules, and introducing you to his friends just cements that feeing.

Chapter Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (exhibition, f receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, scenting, Alpha/Omega dynamics), hints at some super dark stuff that Curtis is involved in, Alpha!Lance Tucker is an asshole (one use of the R word because it just felt in character him), cruel vibes from all our Alphas, SMUT!!! NO MINORS!!!

A/N: It’s finally here!!! My muse is awake and I hope to be gracing you are with more fics in the future now that I’ve finally had a change to my work schedule. This part is more world building but the next parts will be very much focused on just Ransom and bunny and how they may or may not be developing unhealthy feelings towards each other.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“R-Alpha, are you sure?” You bit your lip while you peeked up at him through your lashes, your fingers gripping his sweater against his chest while you curled closer to him as you sat on his lap.

“I would never lie to you, bunny.” He tried not to smirk when you wiggled a little and nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing his lips to your temple and breathing deep of the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine and vanilla and just a hint of something warm and fertile that made up your sweet scent. “I know it seems strange, honey, but that’s why we’re doing it now, so you can get used to it. Your mate isn’t going to want to put up with all these questions and teaching you how to be good once you're bonded, he’s gonna want to breed you and be able to show you off. And I know you want to be good, don’t you, bunny?”

“Y-yes Alpha.” You shivered when he ran his hand up your spine, sitting up and starting to undo the buttons of your blouse even as your hands were shaking. “Want to be so good.”

————————————-

“I dunno man, she sounds like a fucking moron.” Ransom frowned at Curtis when he stamped the cigarette out against the side of his building before the three of them headed inside. “Of course, that would make her perfect for Tucker.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Everett.” Lance smacked Curtis’s shoulder when they got on the elevator and flipped the larger man off when he started chuckling. “Seriously, Drysdale, you’re sure she’s not retarded or something?”

“Nope, just sheltered and naive as all fuck.” Ransom grinned and leaned against the wall when they just gave him disbelieving looks. “I’m serious men, that sweet little idiot wants to be a perfect Omega so bad, she’ll let you do whatever you want to her. Linda and that preacher fucked her up. Just tell her it’s something her future Alpha will expect from her.”

“Anything, huh?” The way Curtis licked his lips made Ransom grin.

“Don’t fucking break her, Curt, none of that rough shit you’re into. Want to keep her nice and sweet so she doesn’t run to my fucking mother again.” Ransom winked at his friends when the elevator door opened and they followed him into his apartment. “Scent her, touch her, go nuts. Bunny! Come on out, we have guests!”

Ransom could tell when the full effect of your scent hit them by the way their nostrils flared and the low growl Curtis let out. Then you walked into the room and he could have cackled at the way their pupils dilated and they had to obviously fight the urge to stalk towards you when you struggled to meet their gazes.

“H-hello Alpha.” He sometimes still couldn’t believe you’d actually just accepted that once you were mated and bonded you were going to be expected to constantly be naked when you were at home, but you swallowed it whole. Just thinking about the way you had nuzzled into his shoulder then looked up at him with big innocent eyes before nodding like a good girl and slowly stripping yourself of every bit of clothing was starting to make him hard. And now he got to see every inch of your sweet, soft body all fucking day, like a damn dream. “Do you want me to take your coats?”

“Yes, honey, you’re such a good girl.” Ransom rubbed his nose over your temple and breathed deeply when you came close, purring when you let out a small chirp and brushed your hand over his chest. “Go say hello to our guests, bunny.”

“Yes, Alpha.” You’re voice was so soft and small and contrasted so sharply with how utterly sinful you looked walking around naked, he could’ve kissed himself for having this idea. “Hi.”

“Hey there, sweet thing.” Lance didn’t even notice the questioning look you gave Ransom when his friend put his hand on your waist and pulled you close so he could scent your neck and run his fingers over your hips, the shuddering breath you took when he licked your jaw making him groan. “Can’t believe your asshole brother’s been hiding you away from us.”

“I-I just don’t like going out.” You shivered when you felt the large Alpha’s presence behind you and his warm hands skimmed over your shoulders. “An Omega’s place is keeping the home.”

“Oh, they trained you good, didn’t they, pretty girl?” The bearded Alpha growled when you tilted your head to the side so he could scent your neck, his hands suddenly cupping your breasts and making you whine when you felt a strange sensation shoot through your core. “Fuck, you smell good.”

“Th-thank you, Alpha.” You felt lightheaded from the scent of their pheromones swirling around you, your whole body getting suddenly warm as slick started to leak down your thighs. “Oh…”

“Alright that’s enough saying hello.” Ransom couldn’t keep from grinning when you looked like you were about to pass out, reaching out to steady you when you stumbled a bit after his friends disconnected from you with a pair of low growls. “Such a good bunny, you stay out here in case we need anything, okay honey?”

“Yes Alpha.” You let out a small chirp when Ransom tucked his fingers under your chin and leaned into his touch, steadying a little when he kissed your forehead before moving to sit at the kitchen table and read your book, trying to ignore the heated gazes that were still locked onto you while you settled into your seat.

“Why the fuck do you even leave the house, Drysdale?” Lance licked his lips when he watched you tuck your feet under yourself, cocking his head and taking a slow sip of his whiskey. “Don’t think I’d ever get enough of that view. She lets you touch her too?”

“Whatever I want. That little thing was made for pleasure.” Ransom grinned wolfishly when he peeked at you over his shoulder and saw you gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

“You fucked her yet?” Curtis kept an eye on you even as he talked to your stepbrother, snorting when Ransom frowned at him and shook his head. “You’re wasting time, you need to do it early if you want to break her in.”

“Told you, not trying to break her.” Ransom caught you glancing at him and gave you a wink that had you burying your face in your book again with a small gasp. “Just having fun.”

“Breaking them in is fun.” Curtis draped himself lazily over his edge of the couch as he grumbled into his bourbon. “You have any idea what most Alphas would be willing to give for the chance to claim some sweet little practically untouched thing like her? Wasted opportunity if you ask me.”

“I’m very aware, my mother likes to remind me of it constantly when she’s scolding me that I need to take care of the golden child.” Ransom just kept giving Curtis a smug grin while he sipped on his drink. “It’s not like I can bring her to your compound, Everett. Pretty sure Linda and the preacher would have a collective aneurysm if their precious girl went missing, or came back completely broken. So unless you have some other idea…”

“Stay here.” The smile Curtis was wearing when he rose from his seat should have maybe concerned Ransom, but he was too intrigued. “Sweetheart, stand up for me.”

“It’s okay, bunny. Curtis is sort of a bond prep expert.” Ransom couldn’t help but be a little proud at how pliable you already were, standing for Curtis with just one wary glance towards your stepbrother before you turned your attention to the massive Alpha. “Be good for him.”

“Yes, Alpha.” You shivered when Curtis reached out to curl his hand around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his and feeling sudden calm wash over you when he put a small amount of pressure on your mating gland. “Oh…”

“You’re a very good girl, aren’t you?” Curtis grinned and pulled you closer when he felt you relax in his grip, the attention of all three Alphas laser focused on you and the way you were melting under Curtis’s touch when he brought his other hand up to caress your cheek. “Have you gotten used to Alpha commands yet, darling?”

You could only shake your head. Ransom had never used a command on you. He didn’t need to, like they all liked to tell you, you were a very good girl, you always wanted to be. But maybe the mate Linda and your father would pick for you would want to be more dominant. You knew you had to be prepared for anything, Ransom kept telling you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be gentle.” Curtis scented your hair before pressing on your mating gland one more time, letting out a deep growl as his voice took on a low timbre. “Present for me, Omega.”

The whine you let out when you felt your hindbrain urging you to submit had all three Alphas snarling with arousal, the noises from them getting even deeper when you bent over the counter and spread your legs. You were so swollen and slick and pretty and Ransom couldn’t believe that Curtis was the first one who had the idea to get a really good look at you.

“What a good little ‘mega. Gonna make such a perfect mate.” Curtis grinned when you cooed softly, dragging his palms up the backs of your thighs and spreading you open even further. “Once you’re bonded, your Alpha’s gonna want to check this sweet little pussy every day to make sure you really belong to him, that you’re being the good girl he mated and not letting any other Alpha use what’s his.”

“H-how would he check my… my…” You let out another lovely sound when Curtis knelt behind you and shoved fingers from both his hands inside you with no warning. “Oh goodness…”

“Bunny, I’ve told you, you’re gonna have to say the word.” Ransom wanted to crawl over the back of the couch and lose himself in you, your scent was getting stronger while Curtis touched you and it was making Ransom feel like he was lost in a haze. “Ask your question like a big girl.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Alpha.” You kept your eyes on Ransom even while Curtis was drawing more slick from your aching core, curling your fingers against the stone of the counter and panting softly while he licked his lips and purred at you. “How would he check my… pussy?”

“Oh, there’s lots of different ways sweetheart. Fuck, look at you.” Curtis hooked his fingers and pulled your cunt open so he could get a really good look at you, biting softly at the back of your thigh and groaning when he watched you try to clench around the emptiness. “So fucking gorgeous, you’re gonna spoil whichever lucky bastard bonds you. Don’t think he’s gonna be able to stop himself at just looking. Might have to smell you.”

Curtis swiped his nose over your sex and breathed deeply, burying his face between your legs and growling when you let out another soft whine and your thighs started trembling. The air in the apartment was thick and heavy with the smell of sex as all three Alphas let themselves get lost in you, Ransom and Lance feeling just as enraptured even though they weren’t currently touching you. But they could practically taste you in the air, Ransom didn’t even need to look at Lance to know the man was well on his way to becoming obsessed with you. Not that he could look at Lance, when you were filling his vision and making those perfect sounds and letting Curtis touch your sweet little cunt however he wanted and never taking your eyes off your stepbrother’s.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so good, honey. Bet you’d let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to you and you wouldn’t make a peep.” Curtis grinned when you only moaned in response and arched your back further, your fingers digging into the counter as you breathed heavily. “Best way to check is gonna be taste though.”

“What do you… oh my!” Ransom snarled when your eyes fluttered wildly before falling closed when Curtis plunged his tongue inside you, your body arching back on itself as you rose on your toes and your breath became ragged. He didn’t even notice the sound of breaking glass when Lance’s grip on his tumbler got too tight, digging his fingers into the back of the couch while he kept watching you and feeling like he was ready to fight something just to get closer to you.

“Such a good fucking girl, shit.” Curtis’s voice was muffled as he dragged his tongue all over your pussy, making sure he tasted every inch of you before releasing his grip on your swollen walls so he could squeeze your thighs while he groaned softly.

You couldn’t answer him, you felt like you were about to pass out, strange sensations shooting through your body. Even the noises coming from your throat were foreign to your ears, high pitched and whiny and desperate as you pressed your hips back into the giant Alpha’s face and rolled them to meet his mouth. There was something pooling warm and low in your stomach that made you feel like you were about to scream, but it couldn’t be bad, Ransom would never hurt you, or let someone touch you who was going to hurt you. But still…

“Oh… oh my… what are you… ah!” You felt like you were cresting a massive wave, some massive, pleasurable sensation crashing over you as you screamed wildly and and your whole body sagged into the counter, shaking as you struggled to come back to yourself as Curtis kept sucking on a spot that seemed designed to make you lose your mind. “What… what did you do to me? What was that?”

“What’s wrong, honey, you’ve never come before?” Curtis just chuckled lightly as he rose to his feet, running his hands over your still trembling thighs and cooing when you just answered him with a wretched sob. “Oh shit, you haven’t! Christ, the things I could do to you…”

“That’s enough for now.” Ransom finally felt the spell break and leapt over the back of the couch and caught your other arm when you almost collapsed, pulling you into his chest after Curtis rubbed his nose over your shoulder with a comforting purr and gave Ransom a lascivious wink. “Bunny you did so good, huh? We’re gonna get you cleaned up, baby.”

“Mmm.” You sighed and nuzzled into his neck after giving Curtis a curious look over your shoulder, clutching at Ransom’s arms and curling as close as you could so you could take in his comforting scent while you were still vibrating from the pleasure that had been ripped from you. Ransom tried not to give Curtis too sour of a look when he shouldered past him, but fuck if he hadn’t realized just how untouched you were. And he definitely would have wanted to be the first one to draw an orgasm from your sweet little body if he had known.

“She taste as good as she smells?” Lance turned his phone off and tucked it back in his pocket, grateful Ransom was distracted with you so he didn’t have to get a lecture about getting you on video. “Don’t know how the fuck you managed to hold back, would’ve broken that bitch.”

“Because you’re horrible and have zero self control.” Curtis frowned as he stepped between the entrance to the hall and Lance, who was still looking pretty keyed up, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips when he heard the shower running and heard Ransom cooing softly at you. “Go bond some easy slut and dump her like you normally would if that’s what you need something to do. As much as I’d love to watch Drysdale beat the shit out of you if you try to move in on his precious new toy, I kinda like her, and you’re a bastard who can’t play nice. This one’s not a pump and dump.”

“Fuck you.” Lance flipped Curtis off as he rose to his feet, calling the lift and frowning at his friend while he waited. “Why don’t you call me when you two are sick of being pussy whipped by some virgin and I’ll show you how you could really have fun with that sweet slice of pussy.”

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mushroomnoodles · 5 months

Text

its no problem at all- i quite love your comments! this does, however, make me want to go into some further detail on simon's journey and emotional state and just.. events during his pregnancy with morrigan. granted, i'm no writer- i'm much more of an artist, but i guess this kinda stuff has me thinking a lot? so sorry if it's weird.

tw for the sfw and non kink mpreg talk ofc, also i touch on simon being depressed and feeling like a burden again. but there's fluff in there too i swear! not tagging this under art because.. i didn't actually draw anything but myself. lol

i think something i find really fascinating, especially from personal experience, is how hard it is to change your frame of mind. it takes long, consistent effort, and you generally have to want to do it. simon becomes pregnant with morrigan, oh.. i don't know, 6-10 months after the events of F + C? he's 60 years old, physically at least. he's going to therapy and staying away from the bar, he's going outside for walks to get that sunlight and appreciate nature.

then GOLBetty dumps a baby in him. simon isn't instantly attached to the baby yet- this whole thing is sudden and terrifying. his mind is racing with thoughts of some terrifying chaos entity inside him, because god knows it's not a normal child with the way pb's equipment has been literally blown to smithereens at the mere attempt to monitor the fetus.

but he's refusing to terminate the pregnancy, because betty had to have wanted this for him if she did it. they wanted kids before everything happened, and she did so much for him- gave up her ambitions, her body, her humanity- she was asking this one thing from him, and it was the absolute least he could do in return.

also.. betty's not coming back. ever. not as his betty. this is a piece of her she's given to him. a parting gift. how could he ever let that go?

even at risk of death or worse, he couldn't bring himself to do it. and simon starts to struggle again, even if he tries to resume his life- he's so hyperaware of this thing growing inside him, and because of its mother he doesn't dare say or announce anything. he agrees with pb on that part- carrying a child of GOLB(etty) is definitely not something any of them want to make public.

he refuses minervabot's therapy in fear she'll detect his pregnancy, or worse, fucking explode.

simon's so guilty and yet so determined by his sense of duty to betty- betty wouldn't do this if she knew it would destroy ooo, he rationalizes, she wouldn't do this if it would kill him, surely? (golbaby, aware unbeknownst to simon, hears his fretting and decides to take a form that closely resembles his own, because they don't want to scare him.)

but simon's a dad at heart. of course he's going to warm up to the baby. and subconsciously, constantly defending betty's decision (to the girls and in his mind) slowly wears down his apprehension, too. and then he finally feels golbaby kick and it's scary because it's new but it's nothing like he thought it was going to be if he was carrying some.. inherently evil chaos entity his deepest fears (and pb, gently) were telling him it was. (not that he wouldn't have loved it in some degree anyway. look at him.) it was more.. just like a gentle reminder that the thing in him is, y'know, alive. like.. alive. it's just a little guy. huh.

and suddenly it's not really about betty's wish as much, it's about.. like.. getting ready to be a parent to this little guy inside him! and there is so much to do and prepare for. even with golbaby's powers sparking up and effecting the world around him in bizarre ways, simon is more and more convinced that it's just.. a baby. a baby what, he had no clue, but it was a baby, and it was going to be his.

but simon is still shutting down his life around him, because he has to. he's getting bigger and he can't really hide his pregnancy constantly anymore. he shuts down his exhibit and has to go out hunched over in his big ass bulky coat, and it's not too long before he simply leaves the human city altogether, because golbaby is fucking with any machine he passes by. and he's not about to be like, "oh no, i'm not trying to break your stuff, i'm just pregnant with the offspring of the most powerful cosmic entity known and it's an unfortunate side effect. sorry"

being alone is hard! especially when the pregnancy symptoms got worse he just found himself missing betty, not just in the normal way but the, yknow, you knocked me up and i could really use some emotional support way. but also in the please god i just wanna be a little spoon rn way. marceline was there for him (assured him he could call her anytime, too) but he wasn't calling her as much as he should. he didn't want to bug her too much. he knew the whole ordeal was freaking her out anyway, and he tended to keep his innermost thoughts to himself when she'd take him out to see pb. pb wasn't helping either, and neither was constantly seeing the effect the baby had on her equipment.

seeing yourself as something other than a burden and an outcast is a hard thing to get rid of, and sometimes he'd just cling to that idea of pushing onwards because somebody is relying on him now- even when the depression had its really bad point simon was pushing himself to take care of himself because golbaby was depending on him to. he still dragged himself to the store to buy groceries and shit, just for his kiddo. this idealogy didn't last- that he was simply going on because his baby needed him to, but it was a good way to keep his head above the water. simon feeling as though he has a purpose keeps him going through extremely difficult times.

things look up again when unexpectedly fionna and cake pay a visit to his new place in the woods. he tries to hide that he's pregnant- he has been since the start, but it doesn't work in person. he kinda breaks down and has a heart to heart with fionna, and they just sort of end up having tv dinners while sitting on the kitchen floor with cake as a pillow.

it gives him some time out of his head. helps him remember all that stuff minerva told him about handling his feelings and coping with them. he goes back to his walks (and getting that sweet sunshine) and i particularly enjoy imagining him awkwardly asking marceline if she wants to come over for dinner.. he has this board game he wants to try and he needs two people..

he finally says yes to the clothes shopping offer too after a while, and fionna keeps in close touch with him to make sure he's doing ok! simon loves listening to her stories and whatever is happening in his little brain universe. plus, he actually goes out and eats or shops sometimes! wow! he bought a lava lamp! cool!

and even when pb ends up placing that seal on him, he keeps his head up and focuses on those things to keep his mood and social life up because he's not about to let himself go back to that state of being again. you got this dr petrikov.

plus, when pb finally builds a machine that can handle golbaby's power and he finally, finally gets to hear their little, very much human heartbeat? he is over the fucking moon. getting to see that ever so fuzzy outline of the baby on the sonogram? serotonin +10000. there it is! simon doesn't happy cry often but he was happy bawling holding that little picture like a lifeline.

(side note, fionna is very entertained by how sassy he gets during the last few months of his pregnancy when golbaby is sealed. simon's filter is slacking. marceline's pretty amused, too.)

he feels like he can hold his own again, sort of, i guess? and golbaby is very much still his purpose, but he knows just being alive is good enough. maybe he still doesn't entirely believe it yet, but he keeps saying it aloud and in his brain so eventually he will.

uh, i was a human being who also felt like i had to have purpose to justify living. soo.. the ups and downs of the journey are important to me, cause i had them too! i'm still growing and learning (and i have a lot of work to do, i'm pretty young) but. idk. shakes simon around like a chew toy

#sona reveal?#prismocore lowkey #cw mpreg #hc moment #nothin but words #little nervous about posting this idk why #looks at floor

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fourseasonscomeandgo · 2 years

Text

jennie gf headcanons

clarification: fem!reader

TW: mentions of bug killing (¿, knifes, and harming people with it (????, cursing

she looks so elegant, so chic, so evil

but she speaks to you in baby voice and cries when there's a bug

calls you in crisis when there's an insect so you would kill it

i don't think she's good a flirting when sober

but when she's drunk she becomes a romeo

a clumsy romeo

she was obsessed with you.

she's a scorpio moon, she's kinda psycho

sorry for the astrology moment

you had an idea that she may like you but you kept denying it

because why would jennie kim, jennie ruby jane, like you, a mere mortal?

but then it was your birthday and she gave you a necklace as a gift

and when you saw the other members giggling and blushing and RECORDING the whole thing, it clicked for you

she couldn't give more of a fuck about your appearance, she fell in love with you because you're smart, sensitive, you make her laugh, you're so unique and you're unnecessarily kind and helping towards people

and if she ever felt that you liked her only based on looks, she would probably start losing interest on you

she's not good at trusting people and give them her heart, so she was doubtful at the start with you

you had many fights because you felt you were dating a wall

an emotionless and cold wall

and you wanted her to be open about her feelings with you, cause you can't date an ice cube, y'know?

it took her her sweet time, and your sweet patience

but now she's an emotional disaster with you and you're always there to contain her

she's a jealous freak

she fights it and tries to keep composure

but she would write her name on your forehead with a knife if she could

you're hers and only hers

she's a scaredy cat and you must protect her

she doesn't care if you're just as or even more scared than her, you're her shield

she stalks you on instagram

you accompany her to rich people events

but you girls just make a disaster, feel like outsiders, embarrass yourselves and leave

the moment she got to call herself your girlfriend she forgot anyone else existed, you're her everything

europe dates

you can't believe you're going on europe dates with someone

she loves sleeping with you and waking up to you the most

if she can't have you with her while sleeping, she would hug a teddy bear with your perfume on it

going on tours and overseas schedules with her and the girls

when you started going out with jennie, the rest of the girls intervened you to see what your real intentions were and what kind of girl you are

rosie and lisa cried because they're so happy jennie found someone that loves her and it's good with her

jisoo teared up but someone had to look scary

matching everything, collars, bracelets, clothes, shoes, hats, the carpets in your living rooms are the same and even your couches too

and everything is from the most expensive brands, of course

but don't think you only do high class shit

you love countryside getaways in which you can have picnics in nature and ride horses. also going to artesanal art exhibitions dressed as true homeless people and buying the most useless stuff just cause it's pretty

she lives hanging off your neck, so fucking touchy and clingy, and you love it

your clothes are full of kuma hair

she's a romantic baby, sees you as her disney princess and dreams about having the biggest, most dreamy wedding

she thinks of you as her soulmate

she calls you "baby", you're her baby, jennie's baby, baby this, baby that, "baby come here", "baby go there", "i love you, baby", baby, baby, baby

—O—O—

STREAM BORN PINK, YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

—ica.

#kpop imagines #kpop #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink reactions #blackpink headcanons #blackpink x reader #blackpink jennie #jennie #jennie scenario #jennie reactions #jennie imagines #jennie x reader

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

Text

Giles x teen!reader - a demigods fate

Part 8:

Giles had noticed a small change in your behaviour, the way you exhibited a bit more teenage like behaviour.

You were more open to staying in the school grounds when you had to, doing your work, though sometimes it was a fight to get you to focus and concentrate.

But you allowed yourself to be a bit more vulnerable, you trained them all in how to fight like a demigod, and that’s what you were doing now with Buffy in the library.

Compared to you, Buffy had speed and strength on her side, but you used your manipulation of the shadows to your advantage.

Everybody watched the tense fight between you and the slayer, the way your weapons clashed, metal on metal echoing around the library, and finally Buffy had you pinned.

“Not had for a human.” You said.

She held out her hand, helping you to your feet.

“Monsters don’t care about a fair fight, like demons and vampires they’ll win by any means, and some of them have powers. Learn the monster and their weakness.”

“They’re coming in full force now, are you sure that we’ll be enough against them?” Xander asked.

You shrugged a little, setting your sword in the table.

“No, but we have no other choice, they won’t send any more demigods.”

“Why? We need the help.” Willow said.

“I can summon the help when the time comes, right now I can’t waste my strength on that.”

“What will you do?” Buffy asked.

You gave her a smile, sitting down in the chair you had placed your jacket over.

“Let me worry about you, just remember your training.”

The bell went and the three other students looked towards one another, grabbing their stuff to head to class.

You looked through some of the parchments on the table, and you set them aside.

“You haven’t told them, have you?” Giles asked.

“I know there’s no point, at the end of the summer the hellmouth will open, creatures from Tartarus will come spilling out, monsters will come from all angles.”

“You don’t think they should know?”

You looked towards the door, shaking your head.

“Not yet, it’ll only worry them. The only thing you all need to do is fend off the hellmouth.”

“And you still don’t know what you need to do?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Not yet, but I was given something.”

Reaching into your pocket you pulled out two coins, you set your first one on the table, and then you set another one on the table next to you.

Giles picked it up, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I.. I don’t understand, what is it?”

“Stygian iron. It absorbs the essence of monsters, and demigods.”

You took the coin from him, tossing it in the air and catching the hilt of the sword, setting it on the table.

“Unlike celestial bronze this can hurt and even kill everything including gods.”

“How on earth did you come across such a powerful weapon?”

You watched as it reverted back into a coin.

“A gift from Hades, along with a note saying only to use it once, and I would know when that time was.”

“Wonderful, how cryptic of him. He hasn’t decided to explain it to you in more detail by any chance?”

You shook your head, putting it back into your pocket, and you picked it up the first one, looking at it.

“This was my first ever sword, given to my by my mom who was given it to her by Hades when I was a baby.”

You took his hand, and you placed it in his palm, curling his fingers around it before pushing his hand back.

“Take good care of it.”

“I.. I can’t accept this..”

“Please, I want you to have it Giles, think of it like a Christmas present.”

Giles put it into the pocket of his blazer.

“I will, and speaking of which, what are your plans for Christmas?”

“I have to go somewhere, retrieve something I don’t know what, I’ll be back before school begins though.”

Giles nodded his head and stood up, putting his glasses back on.

“You’ll be safe won’t you?”

“Yeah, I will.”

He smiled, holding up a hand to you and he walked to his office before coming back with a box, setting it on the table.

You looked at him confused, and he gestured to to it with a smile.

Walking over, you took the lid from the box.

Reaching inside, you pulled out the little teddy penguin and you laughed a little, grinning at him as you held it up.

“Penguin!”

“I thought you’d like it, a little change from the monsters and the studying. There’s something else in there as well.”

You set the penguin down, reaching into the box you pulled out a chain which held a small stone at the bottom.

You looked at it, turning it around to inspect it properly.

“I found it in a Greek shop I went into while I was searching for more books, the Satyr told me that this would bring protection to whomever was wearing it, that even in the underworld you would be safe, it was blessed by Hades himself. I.. I’m not sure if it is true however..”

You smiled, putting the chain over your head.

“It is, Hades blessed three of these, one for his wife, one for a hero long ago, and one for a hero yet to come.”

You looked at Giles, and you leant against the table, looking at the plush penguin in your hands.

“Merry Christmas (Y/N), and good luck with your quest.”

You set the penguin down, and you nodded your head.

“Thank you. Take care of it? I’ll get it when I’m back.”

“Of course.”

Giles took the penguin and you walked to the shadows to start your quest to who knows where for who knows what.

All Giles could do was worry, even as Christmas came up, he worried about your safety, who knows what you were facing or what was happening.

He looked at the tree you had helped him put up in his home, and the few other decorations you had made.

They weren’t particularly well made, they looked like they were made by a child, but you made them, and you were proud of them, so he was proud to put them up.

Sitting with a book and a glass of wine, Giles began to carry on his research about what was to come.

Rig was laid on the couch next to him fast asleep, Oris was laid on the floor by his feet, and both hounds snapped their heads to the corner of his home that he kept dark for you.

Setting his book down, Giles stood up, standing behind the dogs as they growled and paced back and forth.

You came stumbling out, gasping for breath, dropping to you knees.

“I.. I got it…”

You coughed some blood on to the floor, and the hounds rushed to you, supporting you before you could fall on the floor.

“(Y/N)!”

Giles picked you up, laying you down on the table, grabbing his first aid box to clean your wounds.

He noticed the small flicks of shadows at the edges of them, slowly stitching them back together and it made him grimace a little.

“What happened?”

“Giant…”

He nodded his head, and you held up your hand, showing him a book.

Giles took the book, setting it aside so he could finish cleaning your face, and your side.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m hungry…”

He chuckled, smiling a little bit he got up, making his way to the kitchen you heard the microwave and he walked back over.

“Come up, let’s sit you up.”

He helped you to the kitchen, sitting you on the stool by the counter, and he placed the plate in front of you.

“Did you cook all of this?”

“Yes, I had some spare time, I made you one just in case you made it back in time. I’m aware with impending doom you maybe don’t want to celebrate Christmas, but I still do.”

You smiled, grabbing your fork to start eating.

Giles set his plate down, and he stood there eating his own dinner.

“You didn’t eat yours?”

“Well, it would be rather rude of me to start without you wouldn’t it?”

“You didn’t know I was coming back.”

Giles smiled, tapping you on the head with the Christmas cracker.

“I had a feeling.”

You grabbed the other end and pulled up, immediately grabbing the paper crown that fell on the counter and you put it on.

“Ah, the ever so feared forbidden child, wearing a paper crown, I’m absolutely terrified.”

You grinned at him, and he went back to eating his food.

“So, why were you sent all that way for a book?”

“I don’t know, the prophecy said it was for the watcher, he would make sense of it when the time came.”

“Well, I’ll have a look through it and see what I can find, you in the other should go home and get some rest.”

You shrugged, feeding some of the turkey to the hounds waiting patiently.

“The nightmares?”

“Joys of a demigod.”

“Right then, after you’ve finished eating I’ll get the sofa made up for you, we can see if that helps any better.”

You nodded, and he did just that, sitting in the chair while you slept, Oris laid on your chest, Rig laid on the back of the couch.

The book didn’t seem like anything of much importance, mostly myths and legends that he had already heard off.

When you began to toss and turn he set the book down and walked over, picking up the penguin he placed it under your arm.

You grabbed it tightly, and he sat in front of you, picking up the book again.

Nightmares were a reoccurrence for you, and he knew that, and he had learned that you could sense somebody nearby while you slept, and it comforted you to know you weren’t alone.

The following morning you woke up and stretched, shadow travelling back to your apartment to go back to sleep and hide away until school began again.

Grumbling you trudged into the library, dropping yourself into your usual chair.

“How wonderful of you to finally join the land of the living.” Giles mocked.

You put a dollar in the jar then stuck your middle finger up at him with a little grin.

“At least you put a dollar in the jar first.”

Giles sat down, handing you your work for the day.

“Your grades have improved since you started, you should be proud of yourself, and you’re learning how to work through your dyslexia as well. You have come a long way, I’m proud of you.”

“You are?”

Giles smiled.

“Of course I am, you worked so hard to get these grades, just remember in a few weeks you have some more tests.”

You nodded, pulling your books closer towards you.

You opened one of them and began to read what your tasks for the day were.

You worked hard at studying, and you had worked really hard at trying to keep your grades, so when a few weeks when you did your tests and got your results back you ran to the library.

Bursting through the doors you tumbled and scrambled back to your feet.

“Giles!”

“What?!”

He came rushing from the top of the library.

“What’s wrong?”

You held up the paper to him and he jogged down the stairs, taking it from you, looking between your grin and the paper.

“I got my first A!”

Giles chuckled, smiling brightly and he set the paper down on the table.

“That is absolutely amazing (Y/N), I am so proud of you!”

You rushed forward, hugging him tightly and he smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder, patting it a few times.

“You’re doing absolutely wonderful, congratulations.”

Giles grabbed the jar and held it out to you.

“I think after all that swearing, you’ve earned this.”

“Yes!”

You pulled away and grabbed the jar, stuffing the money into your pocket, and you pointed to the paper.

“Keep it!”

With that you ran away again, and he took the paper, walking to his office to put it with all the others and the coin you had given him.

He smiled, seeing the progress you had made and it truly made him so proud, he felt like a proud father, and if he was your father he would be so incredibly proud of you were his child.

But even if you weren’t, he was proud of you nonetheless

#buffy the vampire slayer imagine #buffy the vampire slayer #Buffy the vampire slayer x reader #Buffy the vampire slayer x you #Rupert Giles #Rupert Giles x reader #Rupert Giles x you #Rupert Giles imagine

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inlocusmads · 24 days

Note

Hii 🥰

I saw these picture prompts and I thought I’d send them your way. You can create anything you’d like. Moodboards, edits or even write a story, whatever makes you happy.

The most important thing is that you have fun (and don’t worry you can answer the ask whenever you have time or feel inspired) 🥰

Thanks for the prompt Peonie!

Empty Wallets, Terrible People & Other Signs of Spring: rowan stone & stevie sun (murder at homecoming)

wc: 502, teen and up for strong language

a/n: this takes place before the events of murder at homecoming - i.e when they're sophomores

____

“Stevie, what the fuck.”

Rowan threw her hands up in exasperation. She examined one of the peaches to find some rotten mold stuck to their skin. It wasn't Stevie’s fault, clearly - given it was the contractor to blame but Rowan was a bit bummed nonetheless. She was now answerable to the Spring Fair committee, which involved dealing with a bunch of crappy seniors who took great pleasure in bullying the fuck out of a bunch of worker-bee sophomores. It wasn't like they could call Gabriela to fix the problem, as per usual. The amount of times Rowan would need her to bail them both out was too many to count on a few fingers.

Stevie had just finished up drawing a sign and balanced it on a crate.

“Don't worry about the ones that look dead, I'll have some guy get it thrown out.”

“Good sign.” Rowan pointed out.

“Right?”

“Can you squeeze peaches?”

“Dude.” Stevie rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“I'm kidding.” Rowan burst into laughter. “No, this will piss off like - uh, seven people.”

Don't squeeze me until I'm yours. The sign read.

“Piss off all the right people, you mean.” Stevie delivered a light punch at Rowan’s shoulder. “Guess who's in charge of exhibits?”

“That guy? Fuck.”

Rowan knew Stevie had been having some problems with Brett Morris, but the nature of it was unknown. Rowan didn't want to press on the subject either. It wasn't like she was close enough with Stevie to warrant a reason, much less get comfortable enough to laugh at her jokes.

“Well, if he's giving you problems -”

“Nah, he's -- he's --” Stevie struggled to get through her sentence. “Y'know what, it's his problem. Fuck Brett.”

“Yeah, erm- fuck him.”

“As a matter of fact I should - like draw some stuff on the cardboard- make his job answering to a bunch of kids a lot more difficult.”

Rowan noticed a little bit of discomfort at the mention of Brett but as quickly as she let herself express it, Stevie had let it pass by.

A pause.

“You want to go grab some churros?”

“Aren't we supposed to take care of the peaches?”

“They're just peaches, right?” Rowan shrugged nonchalantly. “Pretty sure nobody even -- eats fruits anymore. Let's go get some churros, c'mon.”

Stevie gave her an amused smile. “This is the most pathetic way I've ever been asked out.”

“No - what the - no, no, this is - dude, it's food. We're grabbing food.”

“Yeah, you give someone else those wet cat sad eyes and they'll toss a diamond carat ring at your forehead.” Stevie laughed. “I'm kidding. Come on. God, you're like - so uptight and everything. Also I'm broke, so you're paying, sorry about that.”

“I've got like five bucks. In this economy we can't even afford half a churro in this overpriced fundraiser.”

“Quarter of a churro it is, then.” Stevie settled. “You can afford a quarter churro, right?”

“I mean- you can get nothing and everything for five bucks.”

“Pretty sure the economy doesn’t work like that, Rowan.”

____

A/N: this was just a really quick drabble I thought of ahaha. Also yes, this takes place a year after Brett Morris almost sexually assaults Stevie. I'd like to think at this point, Rowan and Stevie aren't exactly the best of friends, but sort of like 'hallway friends' - you know the kind where you meet at hallways and say hi, so it takes a lot longer for both of them to kind of start talking to each other - between Stevie's own reluctance to put her trust in a good place and Rowan to actually open up.

So they're kind of dancing on the "hey I want you to be my friend but -- uh, I don't know how to talk to you" line.

I'm still trying to figure out a nice cohesive relationship timeline for them, so prompts like these really help out. Thank you so much!

Tagging: perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls

(since I don't have an MAH-exclusive tag-list yet, I'll just tag some perma people who might be interested)

#askboxed #peonierose #stevie x rowan #murder at homecoming #w:inlocusmads #my drabbles

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vereon · 2 years

Text

Paint and Chocolates

Pairing: Stephen Strange x avenger!Reader fluff and stuff Warnings: none

Honestly, I don't know what this is Masterlist

"Come on, Y/N, what are you doing? We'll be late! One more minute, and I'm leaving you!" The woman outside the room yelled, followed by a loud banging on the door.

"Okay, geez. I'm coming", you hurriedly said before carefully draping the unfinished canvas you're working on. After a couple of seconds, you managed to get to the door as you took your favourite pack of chocolates.

"Wait, you got something on your face, don't move." Yelena smudges the paint or dirt on your cheek, you weren't sure which one it was as you didn't see it earlier, but you have a hunch that it was paint.

As you march to the briefing room, you sneaked two pieces of chocolate in her back pocket. You realized that she noticed what you did as she smiled at you, also the fact that you always do it, not only to her but to everyone you're friends with.

*quick Stephen pov at the New York Sanctum*

"Wong, are you busy this Tuesday?" Stephen said without looking up from the book as Wong entered the library.

"Yes, why?"

"I received two invites this morning, might buy another piece to add to the collection," Stephen answered before entering the portal to the Avengers tower.

You were relieved that it wasn't a briefing about another mission, but just the weekly meeting Cap insisted on having. So you passed two pieces of chocolate for everyone in the room to enjoy while Cap continued this boring routine. You were glad that it finished earlier than the other ones. As you were about to stand up, a voice at the very back of the room spoke. You recognized that it was from the wizard. 'Sorcerer' your mind corrected you due to the unhealthy amount of time he has corrected you and the other Avengers in the past. It was the familiar deep baritone that you've always admired. Automatically all the Avengers, including you, turned around to look at the speaker.

Stephen coughed, clearing his throat to repeat himself. "I was wondering if one of you is interested in arts." None of the Avengers spoke, still looking at him, "Painting," he clarified.

"Y/N paints." Tony blurted, pointing a pen at you. You blinked at the sudden mention of your name as you were munching away.

"I've only painted once or twice, and it doesn't even look good," you painfully admitted while a half-chewed chocolate is packed into your cheeks.

Stephen turned his back, exclaiming, "Good! You're coming with me then. I'll pick you up this Tuesday," he said as he created a portal that you assumed to be the inside of the New York Sanctum.

Not having the slightest idea of what he meant, you walked up to him with the intent of knowing more. Still looking at the sorcerer, you followed and unknowingly stepped into the portal behind him.

"Huh?" you said while his back was turned to you, which gave him quite the scare as he didn't realize that you followed him through.

"Oh, yes. I should've given you more information. You'll accompany me to this exclusive exhibit on the other side of town. I didn't want to waste the other invite." Stephen said dismissively.

"Can't Wong go with you?" as you look around, still eating the chocolate you have earlier.

"Nope," he said coolly, making the p sound pop. "Since you're here, do you want to see my collections?"

You looked at him with admiration as he looked like a cheery boy excited to show off his toys, far from his usual demeanor. You nodded and let him lead the way. Letting your eyes wander at the ancient weapons and relics as he called them, you wonder which of these were as old as Cap and Bucky.

He stopped and opened a door that led to his bedroom, and you stared at the bed with eyes widening. Thoughts were racing in your head, 'What? Bed? COLLECTION? Are we going to bow chika bow wow, or is he going to kill me? Mr. Wizard man, what are you playing at? I'M TOO YOUNG FOR THIS! WHAT IS HAPPEN-' you thoughts were cut off as Stephen told you that his collections were just on the other side of the door near his wardrobe.

You let out a soft sigh as he cleared it out. He showed you paintings to paintings to paintings, more expensive than the previous ones and only from the best artists that ever lived. Before he led you to the door, you noticed a painting draped over by a Vicuna wool.

"What's that one?" You point at the mysterious painting.

Stephen slowly walked over to the draped piece, his cautiousness upon approaching it made it seem like the piece would crumble by the slightest vibration. "This… this is my most prized possession, the very first." Carefully removing the cloth, it is evident that he has taken great care of it as there was no scratch on the canvas and its frame. The both of you looked at it with great admiration studying how precise each stroke was, making it the most impeccable piece ever to exist.

As the both of you finally made your way out of his collection chamber and bedroom. Wong appeared behind you, asking if you'd like to stay for a cup of tea and chat for a little since it's been a while since you've both hanged out.

"Sure, why not. After all, you're my favourite mystical librarian," pulling a chair and placing chocolates on their side of the table. "Mr. Wizard, man here better give me a portal back after," you grinned at Stephen, knowing he can't stand being called that name.

"Doctor and its sorcerer," Stephen protested.

"Actually, you know what, I can give you a pointy hat for Christmas. You and Beyoncé here would look great in it. You can be a wizard or Santa's little helper," you cheekily added.

After the little chat, tea, and occasionally pissing off Stephen, you were portalled back as promised.

Tuesday weirdly came faster than the other days.

You were adding the finishing touches to complete your look. 'Hmm, looks decent enough. You jumped at the sudden knock on your door. Heading over to see who it was.

"Looking quite dapper there, Mr. Strange, who would've known a Belstaff Milford coat would suit you." you smilingly commented at his change of wardrobe.

"Thank you, and you look pretty as a picture, Ms. Y/L/N. Are you sure you're Y/N?" Stephen teased you as you fiddled with the bracelet you always wore.

*portal time skip* * You are now thinking of Dr. Strange's naked butt. You're welcome*

As you looked at the different paintings from various artists, some of you've never heard of. You stumbled upon a familiar brushwork. Studying every inch of it, Stephen caught a glimpse of you intently looking at a particular piece. You heard some viewers, connoisseurs, you presumed, talking about the piece in front of you. Not only did they praise the art, but they also theorized who the real artist was since there were multiple big names claiming it was theirs. You did not want to eavesdrop on their conversation, but they were in such proximity to you it was hard not to.

Enjoying the conversation you were overhearing, you only noticed the time when Stephen called your attention.

"Y/N, it's getting pretty late. Are you ready to go home, or do you want more minutes?" the sorcerer asked.

"Sure, take me home, Mr. Strange."

The next week, you were again in the briefing room with the same people as last time. You were spaced out, unaware that Yelena was talking to you.

"Earth to Y/N, are you here? Get your head out of the clouds!" Yelena voiced, still not giving her your full attention but instead shoving another piece of chocolate into her mouth to keep her quiet.

You were only fully taken back when you heard a snickering at the back of the room.

As the briefing was finished, you strode to the door back to your room. Halfway down the hallway, you heard someone call your name.

"Y/N, wait." you turned around to see who it was and waited for him to say something as you pursed your lips and raised your eyebrows.

Stephen opened a portal half the size of the one he usually conjures. You saw him pull up a rectangular canvas covered with kraft paper and a brown twine lacing it.

"Here, I saw you eyeing this one before. I thought you'd like it, so I got it for you." Stephen said as he prepared to give it to you.

You shyly smiled at him, "Stephen, you shouldn't have. This is too much." you were hesitant about accepting it but opted to take it since he put much thought and effort into giving it to you.

"Yes, I should have. This isn't too much. Actually, it's too little for you. You deserve everything good." Stephen squeezed your hand as you accepted his gift. "You should open it now. I want to see your reaction, but only if you're comfortable. No pressure Y/N." the sorcerer added.

You delicately opened the parcel. The inside of the kraft paper revealed a wool covering the main gift. There was a note, and you read it out loud.

"To my dearest Y/N. This is payback for all the chocolates." You laughed at his little note and turned it around to see if Stephen had written more. He did.

You read it again, "I have been thinking of how best to let you know my feelings for you. I just realized that there is no such time as perfect, so I want to tell you that I love you so much, Y/N, my little sugar rush." you were left speechless not knowing what to say and how to react, until you did.

"So was the exhibit thing a date?" as you curiously and teasingly gaze at him making direct eye contact.

"Yes. It was," Stephen admitted while flashing the brightest smile he could muster, and tears slowly formed in his eyes.

"You know, ever since you took me to look at your collections, I wanted to tell you something," you told him as you studied his face.

"What would that be?" he exclaimed as his bright blue-green orbs flickered from your eyes and lips.

"I- I am the artist behind your most prized procession and this one I'm currently holding."

"Oh," you noticed his eyes drop and his mouth still smiling but with a hint of frowning. Before you could reply, he muttered, "Wait, you're WSSHolmes? THE WSSHolmes? The one that no one truly knows?" excitement came back to his voice.

"Yes, Dr. Strange. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, the enigmatic, the arcane, the mysterious WSSHolmes. In the flesh." You put your free hand out for him to shake as you plaster a sweet smile on your face.

He took your hand with both of his. Instead of shaking it, he just held it there, giving you a nice warm feeling. You could say that the man in front of you gave you butterflies.

"I do too," you told him. "You do too, what?" he replied, slightly furrowing his eyebrows.

"I trust you with my heart Stephen Strange" you whispered into his ears as you cupped his cheeks. "and my paintings too," you added. This side comment received a soft laugh from him.

As you stepped back, giving him space, he instead inched closer, brushed his nose to yours, and applied a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I can now say that the missing piece of my heart is mine," Stephen admitted.

"Just missing piece? Not your 'most prized possession'?" you said with a mischievous smile.

"You were always my prized possession. I just didn't know how to claim you," he said as it was his time to plaster a derisive smile.

"It's settled then. I'm yours, Stephen Strange, yours and yours alone until the end of time."

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