#sometimes it’s humanities people who think everything is word games
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My most reactionary opinion is that a well-rounded education is actually a good idea, and you should in fact be forced to sit through subjects you aren’t necessarily interested in in school sometimes.
This is in substantial part nakedly self-interested: I see way too many people with an excessively one-sided education with absolutely nonsense dogshit takes on fields outside their experience, and I would prefer if there was less of that sort of thing in the future.
#sometimes it’s stembrained people who think everything is spherical cows#sometimes it’s humanities people who think everything is word games#but as someone whose interests lie pretty evenly in both directions#it’s all annoying as shit
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What Once Was
A perspective shift, a pause, a brief respite before doubt takes hold again. Android!Ghost feels his heart beat.
You grew up in Manchester, or at least you had a job out there. You don’t like thinking about “growing up.” As far as you’re concerned you’ve been doing this your whole life. Fixing things. You had a job, an apprenticeship, with a bot mechanic at one of the industrial plants. You’d taught yourself coding, but at risk of electrocution you’d found someone to teach you the rest. It was hard, but the work was rewarding. You were young, but unlike people, bots care more about the results than how long a doctor has been a doctor. They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t know they should have.
The area was rough, you always liked the industrial parts of town, but even you could admit the place had seen better days. There was this old butcher shop. Real old school, but people like that. Meat tastes better when it’s cut by human hands, you’d heard someone say once. And there was this kid working there, Simon, he couldn’t have been much older than you. You saw him on your lunch breaks sometimes. You shared your sandwich with him.
He smiled sometimes, more than you would have thought given everything you knew about him. He liked working with his hands, you got that. He liked being away from home, you got that too. He never called you crazy when you talked about bots like they were people. He was sweet, you liked that about him.
He disappeared one day, without saying goodbye. You figured that was just what happened to people who lived like you two did. You didn’t even bother with a police report. Maybe you should have.
-
You still sit with your knees pulled up to your chest when you’re working on small parts. Your brows still furrow the way they did when you were a teenager. Ghost watches you flip down your magnifier over your eyes and remembers teasing you about needing glasses from squinting too much. You still blow the dust out of old cartridges and stick them into your arsenal of wires just to listen to the technicolor drone of ancient video games while you work.
“Just the music,” you’d told him years and years ago, “it helps me focus.”
You’re exactly the same, and yet you’re so unfathomably different. Or maybe he’s different. Different in the ways that matter most, in the ways that mean you’ll never recognize him. It’s better like this. He’s been through too much to be the sort of man you deserve. Barely a man at all, really.
That doesn’t stop him from circling you, like a moth to a flame, or a weary soldier to the comfort of home. He finds himself in your workshop with repairs that aren’t repairs, with injuries that he’s never been bothered by before. Ghost sits and lets you run diagnostics, lets you poke and prod at his gears, and he never says a word. Never mentions that you still look beautiful in work lights, that you shouldn’t hold your tweezers in your mouth because you always pinch your lip, that you’re still you even when he isn’t sure he’s still himself. He never mentions that he has a million things he’s never told you, that he wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.
He thinks them sometimes: when he’s watching you work, when you smile up at a bot warmly, when you ask him what’s wrong, when you start walking towards him before you even know what he needs, when you lay your hands on him and he flips every sensor to try and feel your warmth. He thinks that he loves you, that no matter how little of him is left he’ll always love you. He could love you with nothing, with bare circuits and white matter, and that would be enough to keep him going.
It was enough to keep him going. It isn’t anymore. Not when you’re here, so close and still a thousand miles away. Not when you don’t recognize him, when you don’t see the scrawny kid from Manchester in the corded steel and dense circuitry.
Did you think of him when he left? Did you worry? It always felt melancholic, said as a joke that neither of you laughed at: it’s gonna kill me one day, this world’s gonna kill me. Was that what you thought happened? When you knew about his father, when he sat down for lunch with fresh bruises and a split lip, did you think that’s what happened when he didn’t show up the next day? Did you mourn him?
He should have taken you with him. Sixteen. Young enough to kill for a living, but still too young to save you. He couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t even save himself.
They shouldn’t have put him back together.
Not if it meant he’d see you again.
Not if it meant you’d look at him like this,
Like nothing.
Repairs that aren’t repairs. Injuries that never bothered him before. Diagnostics. Circling. He knows it will burn him, he can feel the heat, but he can’t stop. Androids aren’t supposed to feel. Men aren’t supposed to be metal. And you don’t love him.
Not anymore.
(If you ever did.)
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#android!ghost#cyberpunk au#gn!reader
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why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys
I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.
If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:
I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:
If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?
It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?
The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.
A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.
So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?
Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.
Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.
Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.
If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.
Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.
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BSD MEN WITH THEIR TOXIC TRAITS
➪ characters : osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, ryūnosuke akutagawa, fyodor dostoevsky, sigma, saigiku jouno
➪ other notes : i love writing silly angst with silly characters from my favorite silly anime / manga <3 non-edited
osamu dazai :
running away at any conflict with you
- whilst dazai has a lot of toxic traits and red flags, this issue is the biggest one by far
- running away is all dazai has left when it comes to arguing with you
- you’re someone he can’t lose, so instead he pushes everything under the rug, expecting it to go away
- you don’t dare mention his habit, but this fighting and forgetting habit has your hands tied together, not knowing what to do
- one minute you’re at each other’s throats, the next minute he’s gone, with uncomfortable silence choking you
- when you wake up, he’s hugging you tightly in the middle of his sleep as if your previous night’s encounter never existed
- he brings small bouquets of flowers to you when he comes back, wilting away once you get up and put them in a vase
- it’s almost a routine at this point, you fight, he leaves, you go to sleep angry, he comes back with flowers and lies next to you
- a relationship is staying with each other when things get difficult at times, but what happens when they leave you and come back into your arms with no other words said ?
chuuya nakahara :
over possessiveness and accusing of cheating
- this all roots from his previous betrayals where he thinks he’s found a family, only for it to be gone in a split second
- he’s a darling partner except that he can’t seem to trust you as much as he tries to
- ‘it’s just for precaution’ he says when he sends his men to be with you when you go out, it makes you feel weird having someone by you at all times
- if he ever gets the feeling that you’re being too friendly with a random waiter it always ends up with him accusing you of cheating on him
- you beg him to believe you when you say that you aren’t like the people he had in his life before, that you wouldn’t leave him
- he wants to trust you but when someone gets too close to you, it’s almost like a primal instinct to get you away from them
- he spoils you to no end but nothing materialistic compares to being alone without someone breathing down your neck
- it’s overwhelming not having time to yourself, always being surrounded by someone because they’re afraid to lose you
- you love him like a human so why does he love you like a trophy in fear of betrayal ?
ryūnosuke akutagawa :
lashing out at you for caring
- what else were you expecting when you started dating someone with so much trauma that he can only express with anger
- he doesn’t mean to lash out at you for no reason, he wants to make it work but instead of improving, his attitude continues to grow
- he doesn’t like you “nagging” at him to take better care of himself
- you know that there’s a big brick wall that stops you from reaching his heart but at what point is too much, too much
- when you nod at him after he screams at you, it almost angers him more because he thinks you aren’t listening even though you are, not wanting to argue back and cause more chaos
- there’s times where he makes up for his behavior, sometimes he picks a random flower from grass and gives it to you
- he doesn’t know why he gets so angry that you care for his wellbeing, isn’t that what couples normally do for each other
- it’s saddening seeing the own man you let into your life berate you for no reason
- it’s so hard to love someone who just seems to loathe you so much even with his small actions of caring
fyodor dostoyevsky :
seeing himself as your superior and seeing you as a pawn in his own game
- another man with a shitload of red flags and toxic traits, this one rising above them all
- he cares about you, he does ! but not in the way you’d like, he cares about you like how humans care about their pets
- sure he’d give you the world if he could, but he’d also give you up for his ideal world if it ever came down to that
- a relationship is a balance where each partner sees the other one as an equal, yeah not with fyodor it’s not
- you’ve proven your worth to him so many times for him to see you as the same as his level, instead it just makes you seem as a pawn under his control
- despite this, there are times where it almost seems that he cares about you like a person should, when you’re hanging onto his arm walking in a park humming quietly
- he indulges in your needs every so often, not before bringing you right back down to your place beneath him
- not even death would allow you to escape this cycle of rising and being kicked down
- why does he expect you to see him as the righteous hand of god when he sees you as a mere pawn ready to be sacrificed
sigma :
unintentionally guilt tripping you every time you get frustrated at him
- he’s been used so many times, his naivety is something he hates to the core, all he wants is someone to settle down with, a family
- he’s another sweetheart partner when you can push past the teary eyes and begging for you to not be mad at him and to not leave him
- his biggest fear is losing you, someone who doesn’t use him, he’d rather abandon his casino than end his relationship with you
- whilst he doesn’t realize, you notice his wording when he begs you to stay, often saying that he’s nothing without you, that he’d rather die than be without you
- maybe it’s heartwarming for the first few times but once it becomes a cycle you start to truly wonder if he’d actually go crazy without you or if it was all bluff
- even then, you can’t deny him when he guilts you into staying, he doesn’t know any better
- if you ever mention this to him, he’ll burst into tears, thinking you were breaking up with him, it takes hours trying to convince that you were here to stay
- it’s a repeating cycle he doesn’t notice and you can’t break for the sake of both of you
- love is a powerful thing, powerful enough to guilt you into staying with a man who loves you a bit too much
saigiku jouno :
putting his work above you at all costs
- he swore to protect those that need him, he’s not going to break that just for you
- you knew what you were getting into when you started dating the hunting dog, yet sadness can’t help but fill you when he misses important events with you
- after all you’ve been through with him, and not a single happy birthday text, not a single note for your anniversary, nothing
- he knows when you’re upset with him even if he can’t see your face, he can feel you rejecting his touch, and that’s when he reminds you of what he swore and what you agreed to
- it doesn’t help when he has his snarky attitude and almost mocking voice explaining to you why he can’t just walk out of a meeting
- despite this, he does love you, otherwise he wouldn’t waste his time on you, he loves that you still stick with him no matter what
- you really don’t ask for much, you understand his work and what he has to do, but he still thinks you make a big deal out of nothing
- as hypocritical as it sounds, he always expects you to be there for him even if he’s not
- you knew you were never going to be his first priority but it hurts so much more when he makes sure you know
#written by terra#sincerely terra#engraved with bitterness#bsd#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs#bsd manga#bsd manga spoilers#bungou stray dogs angst#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya x reader#ryūnosuke akutagawa x reader#akutagawa x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#fyodor x reader#bsd sigma#bsd sigma x reader#sigma x reader#saigiku jouno x reader#jouno x reader
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TW for mild unreality
So in a lot of DP x DC crossovers I notice that everyone instantly makes the connection of infinite realms = ghosts. But what if they didn't? I mean, to most humans ghost equals dead person. Not everyone in the infinite realms is dead.
Instead, what if everyone thought it was a realm similar to the Fae Realms? A place where everything is only as real as you want it to be, where the land itself lives and breathes and changes it's form every which when. Perhaps that's why the Fentons think of ghosts as mischievous semi-sentient tricksters, they misread some older texts talking about them.
And they could be right in a way. What if dead ghosts are actually the souls of people who caught the attention of the realms/someone in them and so the realms grabbed their soul upon death to keep. If liminality means you're a guaranteed ghost then maybe that's the realms' way of keeping track of Interesting People so they know when they're up for grabs (they were patient and let you live out your life without interference, it's only polite).
But then, why are ghosts so quick to jump to fistfights now instead of battles of wit? Well that's because of Pariah Dark. The older kings were all the cleverest, the smartest, and perhaps Pariah was clever in a way (he turned a battle of wits he would surely lose into a battle of power after all, and that takes some wit in and of itself) but he valued power and physical might more and so the realms changed to reflect that. And then Danny came along. A small baby child who beat Pariah AT HIS OWN GAME. A child who employs both might and wit in equal measure because he knows the value of both. That small child, king of Ice and Snow, Little Prince, Boy King, a Strategist, a Warrior, that tiny kid is now the King. And the realms change once more to reflect that.
So when Danny is crowned King the ghost zone goes back to being similar to Faerie, only with more fights because Danny is not afraid to straight up punch someone (he's kinda feral like that).
So on the DC side of things maybe there's a summoning (accidental or cult induced), or Danny ends up in the watchtower/Gotham/important place, or maybe the League decide they have enough time to scout out Amity Park and figure out what's going on. They meet Danny, who calls himself a ghost, and are like "You're not like the other ghosts I've met but I don't know enough to refute that" and eventually it gets back to Constantine about this "ghost" boy, and he FREAKS OUT. This is an Infinite Realms denizen, a people similar to Unseelie Sidhe in all the legends, him being a ghost just means he was (or would be, time likes to wander in the realms. Sometimes the present is the future and that past has Not Yet Occurred) interesting enough to nab when he died! And they've been TALKING to him?? That's how you get their attention! You don't want their attention! It's bad enough that Red Hood has a guaranteed fast track there with the sheer amount of Realms Energy swirling around him ever since his resurrection he doesn't need any more people putting up massive I AM HERE signs willy nilly! Just because most denizens are willing to wait until you die to try and steal you away, that doesn't mean that all of them are. And now that Pariah Dark is gone, and the New King is perfectly willing to entertain wit and humor in his court once more, well. It's free real estate.
TLDR the Infinite Realms are Fae-Adjacent and Constantine is Terrified.
I-
this is just incredible. I have no words. I am in awe.
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au where sam goes along with the demon blood drinking 'cause he figures if anyone can grant clemency in hell, it oughta be the boy king of the fucking place.
cue full-on yellow-eyed juiced-up rightful prince of hell sam winchester who has spent the past four months picturing how he'll pour into the depths of hell with legions of demons and hellhounds at his beck and call to break his brother out of whatever implement of torture he's been strung up in... except that when he gets there, dean's unbound, unfettered, up on his own two feet with a knife in his hand, and doesn't even notice sam right away. he's dialed in, laser-focused on peeling back the skin of what might've once been a person with all the care of a shearer going after a sheep, everything from his face (oh, god, his face, his dear face; last time sam saw that face he was nailing pine boards over top of it after he'd closed the eyelids and wiped it free of blood and salt and kissed that cold, still mouth and--) to his bare feet spattered in abattoir-floor gore.
(in the end, sam's never entirely sure how he gets dean's attention -- whether he calls his name, or chokes on a sound trying to be words, or if something inside him deeper than a soul screams out for dean -- but there's a knife in dean's hand and blood on the blade when he turns to sam.)
dean just stares at him for a second, that still, cool, animal look he gets sometimes on a hunt; all predator, 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for I am the meanest sonovabitich in the valley' kind'a look that makes the hair at sam's nape stand on end. then dean's face contracts all at once -- eyes narrow, lip curls, jaw tightens -- as he turns on his heel and flings his knife into the chest of the -- man? demon? demon, gotta be; nothing still human wears a face like that -- standing just out of arm's reach.
"thought we had an agreement," dean snaps, gravel-scrape low at the bottom of his register, like he's been sick but won't admit it for weeks on end. (or screaming. like he's been screaming, a lot, for weeks. or months, maybe. but maybe not; sam's been wrong before.) "no more projections, no more games. we agreed."
the demon puts his hand to the hilt of dean's knife, still buried in his chest cavity, and sam can't have that, can't have an armed demon within throwing distance of deandeandeandeandean, and all he has to do is think about it -- not even really think, not anything so complicated as holding the words or the image of it in his brain; just the intention behind the thought is enough to send the knife jerking out of the demon's grasp and slapping handle-first into sam's open palm.
the demon doesn't laugh, exactly, but his face stretches into what might be the memory of a grin; all teeth, no smile. "we did, and I have not thus far reneged on our agreement, boy. if I'm not mistaken, that's the genuine article; sam winchester, in the flesh. and what pretty flesh it is, too. goddamned succulent."
"hey!" dean barks, "knock it off." that habitual, spine-up, big brother voice that's been part of sam's life since before he can remember. "quit talking about his fucking... flesh." he says 'flesh' in a tone people usually reserve for words like 'fascism' and 'gangrene' and sam's chest aches for the dean-ness of it.
for a second, like a hologram or a magic-eye puzzle, sam sees dean. dean disarticulated, splayed out like a frog pinned to a dissection board, chest cut open, organs scooped out and toyed with and put back wrong. bones rent from their joints, eyes ripped from their sockets, fingers broken one knuckle at a time, nails torn from their beds in a bloody little pile. pieces cut off and waiting for their white waxed paper wrappers; bloody red pieces of flank, ribs, leg, shoulder.
"dean."
(he doesn't say his brother's name so much as he breathes it, horror and relief and delight and longing all shading his tone.)
the look on dean's face is like missing the bottom step of the staircase in the dark. he looks at sam like he hasn't seen him in a hundred years. he looks at sam like he saw him yesterday, the very last thing he saw, sam's face inches from his when his pupils blew out, the fine muscles inside his eye relaxing as his brain and heart and lungs all stopped working.
"sam?"
#dean winchester#sam winchester#cw gore#boy king of hell sam winchester#headcanons & other nonsense#she speaks#supernatural#spn fanfic#the brothers winchester#alistair
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Random Human AU Cars headcanons that probably don’t make any sense before I go to bed bc I can.
Lightning McQueen:
- Has accidentally called Doc “dad” before
- Has accidentally called Strip “dad” as well
- Bro can literally not stop moving- like he will not sit still and he tries so hard
- He has the shortest attention span ever if it doesn’t have to do with his friends or racing
- He actually really enjoys American Football and plays a modified version with Mater sometimes
- He was an orphan growing up
- Bro would 100% go apeshit feral if he lost a game of Uno
- Loves carnivals
- Dog person
- Forgets he’s rich sometimes and he can make his own decisions about money
- His love language is hugs and gifts
- He bought the Hot Wheels of his car and continues to buy every variation
Chick Hicks:
- Bit other kids as a child
- Filled water guns with lemonade and shot at people’s eyes
- Daddy issues(actually this is canon isn’t it?)
- Cat person
- Frighteningly good at card games like Casino “house always wins” levels of good. Like bro will somehow know what your cards are without even looking at them
- He put rocks in snowballs
- Alcoholic
- Loves anything horror, gorey, and True Crime
- He’s notoriously bad at getting people gifts, like seriously bro is not allowed to buy anything for anyone for Christmas or their birthdays that’s how bad it is(someone usually gets it for him)
- He probably has a huge gambling problem
- His love language is giving gifts
- He gives gifts as a form of apology because he’s shit at words
- Literally the best mustache in all of cars- like he keeps that thing at top condition 101% of the time
- He never actually finished school because his dad forced him into racing as soon as he could
- Probably had rabies at one point and somehow survived
- If you somehow manage to become a good friend of his, he’ll actually be super chill w/ you
- Rich as FUCK
Strip Weathers:
- Legally adopted Cal after his parents passed away(or sumn idk)
- Has several scars on his arm from the crash during the tie-breaker race
- He, Tex, Lynda, and Cal were practically inseparable after the crash
- He and Tex are literally the bestest of buds like they are homies to the MAX
- He doesn’t hold any ill-will against Chick even if he should and is allowed to
- The “Boy Scout” of racing(think Superman or Captain America)
- He listens to “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X while working with his horses. Cal cringes every time.
- He never swears unless he’s serious about something or is extremely upset or concerned
- He almost fainted when he met Doc for the first time, almost immediately asking for an autograph
- He has a ranch full of horses and enjoys horse racing as well as car racing
- Received an apology gift of both cologne and a miniature trophy from Chick
- He let Chick sign his cast after the crash
- He’s tried to teach Lightning and Bobby how to ride horses with Cal’s help. It did not go well
- He wanted to be a doctor for a little while before switching career paths
- Racing is literally in his blood(he comes from a very VERY long line of racers)
- Weirdly good at writing. Like for no reason.
- He heavily fanboyed over Doc when he was younger
Doc Hudson:
- He loves Lightning as his son
- He thinks of Sally as a surrogate daughter
- Unironically says “back in my day” whenever he’s telling a story
- He owns a shotgun and it’s hidden away in his house, far away from Lightning(who keeps trying to find it with no luck)
- He knows the most shit out of everyone and all their backstories. Bro hears the gossip and goes “nice”
- He loves watching fruit dissection videos on YouTube for some reason
- Bro is great at knitting. Like seriously. Give him ten seconds and you’ll have a whole ass sweater with a theme and everything
- He is an alcoholic(especially after his crash)
- Never got married or had children… until Lightning and Sally lmaooo
- He nearly started crying tears of joy when Lightning called him dad the first time
- He has several large burns and scars on his legs and lower back from the crash(like shit is really bad dude)
- His favorite movie is the original ghost busters
- He is a cat person
- He is a neat freak at heart yet gave up trying to clean out his garage because of all the bad memories
#cars 2006#human lightning mcqueen#humanized cars#chick hicks#headcanon#lightning mcqueen headcanon#chick hicks headcanon#humanized chick hicks#doc hudson#strip weathers#humanized strip weathers#humanized doc Hudson#headcanons#humanization#I’m really tired lmao#it’s like 1 am#i’m very tired#lmaooo
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I will never shut up about how Kingdom Come: Deliverance is the most tenderly written game served to the most loutish horde of jackasses. I think it is possibly one of the greatest pieces of popular fiction made about feudalism in recent history, even if it's not always the most historically accurate.
And that's because the whole damn thing is about the profound, authority-enforced inhumanity that self-propels feudal order... but this time, it's written from the perspective of, for lack of better word, "humanity undermines, and humanity wins."
Love wins, if you want to be cheeky.
This was originally meant to be a reply to @feelinungry's excellent post on the subject, but it outgrew itself and got super bloated, so I'm plopping it in its own post to not be obnoxious...
KINGDOM COME: DELIVERANCE MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW
And the reason all this about humanity and love is so important to the core of the story, to the very backbone of the narrative (even beyond the plot), is that it exists in opposition and to the impairment of the feudal system. Kingdom Come: Deliverance means to teach us, by way of deeply dramatic plots following individuals, how feudalism works and why it worked the way it did. And why and how that system fails.
The vehicle by which the game does this is by showing us, over and over, how the stratification of feudal class is eroded and sometimes outright dissolved (either in general, as with Henry and Hans, or when it matters most, as with Radzig and Henry) by plain and simple love.
Feudalism, like most class-stratified systems, relies upon 1. dehumanization of those beneath one's appointed status; 2. fealty (mock-love) to those above one's status, their title-appointer class; and 3. the maintenance of a deep separation between these artificially bestowed statuses, as enforced by church (as in word of clergy, not word of god) & state (legal rules and law). Those words and laws existed to propel the system by divide-and-maintain (of the workforce populace, placing it firmly below the next class in line, etc.) in the service of unify-and-profit (for the ruling class).
Sigismund & his invading army are wholly separated and adherent to the feudal theory, even if they have flouted codes of warfare & inheritance; they are presented to us as the main dehumanizing force of the story world, a wave of Order that indiscriminately burns opposition flat rather than an individual leading a royal coup, a cyclical destruction that paves the way for the next flavor of rule to continue the feudal system ad infinitum. They're thoroughly separated from the story even when they are burning down a village in front of our eyes and generally move as one, with Markvart occasionally stepping out of that mass of Feudalism and its antihuman nature to give it a face. They're more a force of nature than an individual as far as the narrative goes.
And we are meant to understand that in sharp contrast to the "close" story, the cast we get to know and watch as they attempt to answer this force of nature. And the second we see these characters get close enough to each other, by raw proximity, to poke a pin into the wineskin of feudal order as dictated to them by authority, it bleeds--everywhere. Not in the sense of ruination but in the sense that a tiny wedge of empathy cracks open the dam and leads, yep, to rehumanization--and love, the most human driving force there is.
And that changes everything, for everyone. Not just internally, as with a character's personal development arc (i.e., Hans learning why his duties, which he resented and viewed as an impingement on his freedom when dictated to him by authority, are incredibly important for real people who experience pain) but externally as well (as @feelinungry so elegantly points out in the original post).
Over and over, at every stage of the story, it's the rehumanization of and by these decision-makers (at a family level, at a community level, at a regional level, at a national level) that cracks the feudal cycle, even if in very small ways. Hans really brings this back home in a petri dish in late game, after the siege, when he complains to Henry about the noble's code (letting Istvan go) potentially leading to pain and disaster for the common people Istvan's machinations are likely to harm in the future. He chafes--and we chafe, and so does Radzig, and so does Divish--against feudal stratification because he has learned a general empathy through loving an individual, and that has in turn reshaped the way he sees the world.
And that's exactly why and when feudalism begins to fail, and why it thrashed itself the way it did, from the enforcement of sexual mores (though this wasn't exactly like it is in movies) and gender law to terror upon its own populations.
And it's the crucial understanding I think we begin to forget after being exposed to so much Hollywoodification of history, where the oppression always exists for cruelty's sake alone rather than in active and deliberate service to a political construct.
And I think it's why we've "lost the plot" so horribly when it comes to understanding that people in history were still people, not monolithic one-mind entities (as the feudal system demanded they be). And why we somehow forgot that such people fall in love, in all kinds of love, in a way that has never given a damn about authority. And that this in turn undermines supposedly supreme authority, even divine authority, and will always continue to do so, as long as people are people.
This is what it always comes back to. Always. From Henry's parents and their mysterious bond with Radzig informing the protagonist's journey from "the past"--to Henry & Hans falling into stupidly fierce soulmatehood with each other in the present--from Istvan & Erik's destructive fuck-the-world romantic love on the "enemy" side--to Divish's humbling, humanizing realization that he loves Stephanie in some way, he really does, despite the chasm of age/gender enforced upon them by their adherence to feudal order that doomed their romantic love to failure.
People will always love each other, even when the world orders them not to, even when faced with death and worse. People will always, given proximity and shared experiences, learn to see each other as human again. KCD reminds us of that. It's why the "slow" storyline exists and why it works.
And that is why this game is so fucking fantastic, and why the genpop fandom has utterly failed it.
#kingdom come deliverance#kcd#kcd2#henry of skalitz#hans capon#radzig kobyla#divish of talmberg#stephanie of talmberg#redmeta
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They're back at that one bit of woodland again, with the strangely cut trees and the avocado sapling and an unusual number of birds. Fit hates it here, he hates what it does to his friend. He sees the distant look in Philza's eyes, the way his movements become softer, slower, almost floating. He sees the warpstone, and takes it, and knows it means that sometimes Philza comes here alone.
He sees the way Philza puts his parachute away too high, and does not bucket clutch when he lands. Hears the crunch of his ankles, too.
It's not the first time Fit's seen it either, though its novel in /Phil/. In the wasteland, in the many wars... Yeah, he's seen this before. People who can't face what they've done - what the world did to them - so their minds fade into a dream until reality crashes in with a knife through their spine. Nobody wastes an end crystal on someone who got lost in a dream, at least not the quiet ones.
(To kill those lost in a nightmare you want a bow, anyway - even if you dress in their colours, they might still consider you a monster in their dreams. Fit's almost glad Philza's brain cracked quietly - its safer, less likely to draw the Federation's ire, but it also means the pain goes unnoticed. He wonders, just how many islanders' suffering has been missed?)
The doubt in reality even when present Fit has seen less of, but it's not unheard of. In the wasteland people tend towards killing and being killed, but sometimes someone gets a grand idea into their heads.
Well, no, a lot of people do. Even if Fit only considers grand torture he can think of a good number of people, they're just not often met with success.
He has seen it, though, between one incursion and the next. There had been this one asshole up in the north eastern quadrant who took a delight in fucking with people's heads. One of the Veterans - Fit can't remember his name, why can't he remember even his allies-of-occasion's names? - had been caught. The guy managed to break himself out in a few days, but even that had been enough to have him clarifying reality for months.
Philza...
Well Philza was gone for at least twice as long, and, old crow that he might be, he doesn't have nearly the training against mind games and /human/ bullshit a Wastelander has.
He's still quick with the scythe whenever monsters appear, so at least the Feds haven't stolen that from him too.
"The birds are here, right?" Philza eventually asks.
"Yup," Fit pops the word a little, wanting to go home but not wanting to leave a trauma-fucked friend at ground zero too long. "Still here, still the wrong biome. The avocado sapling is still here, too. There was something here, they just took it down."
Philza squints at that sapling, and hums under his breath. Fit doesn't expect to be believed. It's just, despite everything, he has his own fucking eyes. This place is clearly fucked up, the Federation builds in an instant so why not destroy, and not /once/ has Philza asked him if something is real and the answer was no. His perception wasn't fucked with, just his faith in it.
Which is, in some ways, harder to deal with.
Fit would wonder why he's dealing with this, but he knows everything Philza has done for him and how, when its down to the wire, they're about the only friends either of them can really rely on. Seasons change, alliances are betrayed, lovers fight, and in the middle of it all is always black wings and Philza.
If after all these years all the man needs is an occasional reality check then, gods damn him, Fit won't even charge him for it.
He's nice like that.
"Alright," Philza eventually says. "Let's go home."
They warp back to his home - an empty home, but a home - and Philza hesitates at the hatch.
"Look," Fit says. "If you want to go out there again, or you see something you're not sure about? Just ask me. If I'm not about, take a photo and ask me later."
"Thanks mate," Philza says, with a smile reading 'I'll never do that, but the offer's appreciated'. "Sleep well."
"You too," Fit calls back, and really, he did expect that to be the end of that.
---
It is not, of course, the end of that. There's a few more times in the coming days when they're together, and Philza asks his opinion on the reality of a bird - almost always a bird, sometimes a shrub, and Fit is lining up what triggers he can to try convince his friend to avoid.
He knows Phil, and he knows people, and he knows that most people would rather claw their own eyes out than ask for help. Philza included. Himself included, to be fair to the man.
It's what makes what happens next more horrifying, and more of a surprise.
He is out with Pac and Mike when it happens. Mike is still acting a little odd, but so far he has attacked nobody, threatened nobody, and made no creepy comments about the eggs - Fit will take what he is given and call it a success. Mike is even acting a little more normal, herding Pac and Fit onto a picnic rug and serving them drinks.
Pac laughs and smiles, and Fit slips poison test strips into every single glass he is handed but laughs along with him.
So far, no poison - Fit knows better than to think doing nothing will have fixed the brainwashing (possession?), but maybe the level of control varies. It seems reasonable, then, to expect a chill day for the morning crew; Tubbo is offline, Philza is tens if not thousands of blocks out exploring, and Fit has a date with his two favourite scientists.
... A social engagement with one of his favourite scientists, chaperoned by the other.
Fit sits and listens as Pac explains some additions he and Mike wish to make to the Murder Mystery Arena, occasionally offering his admittedly uncreative takes. Fit knows what he's good for, and it isn't interior design. He just... did not quite expect his thoughts to be so bad that they managed to trigger a laughing fit in the still somewhat out of it Mike.
If only he could also help Mike like he tries to help Pac and Philza, but whatever happened to him, his green-eyed scientist no longer trusts him enough for that.
It's a shock, then, when Mike speaks over Pac, scowling at his communicator. "I don't think this message is for me," he says.
"What message?" Pac asks, already moving to look.
Fit leaves him to it - probably Aypierre asking about some newfangled machine, or Cellbit wanting some answers - before realising Philza is the only person both awake and not at the picnic. That has him standing, grabbing his own communicator, even as Pac is already reading it.
"It just says 'can you come over here a second'?" Pac frowns. "From Philza. Do you think he's okay?"
"He probably just hit the wrong name and didn't realise," Fit tries to keep his voice easier than he feels. Even while he's speaking, he types out a quick 'sharestone?'.
Almost immediately he gets a reply 'thanks mate' and then 'red, named parrot'.
Fit's brain clicks in as to exactly what that might be.
"Yeah he meant me. Mind if I just go check in with him? I'll be right back."
Mike shuffles a little closer to Pac, who in turn waves him away. Their sharestone today is blue, not red, but he takes it to Spawn, and then heads out again.
Sure enough, there's a new red sharestone connected to the network. It's named 'prart', however, and Fit really has to wonder just how badly Philza must be doing to let that happen.
---
Arriving across the link, Fit finds Philza sat on the grass next to the sharestone, knees curled up and hands shaking. It is the middle of the day, but he still quickly checks around for threats. Swamp, no crocodiles, sharestone and Philza tucked close to a tree. The only other living beings he can see are birds - hummingbirds, parrots, and a grey one pecking at Philza's trousers.
Given Philza is in a swamp, Fit has a good idea as to what he might be doing.
"Oi Philza," Fit calls, tossing himself onto the grass beside his friend. "You were missing me?"
"Hit me," Philza replies, still curled in the ball. "You're real, right? Then hit me."
Fit knows the queries about birds well enough by now, but the query about his own presence makes dread settle in his stomach.
"Alright," is what he actually says, before backhanding his friend across the arm.
At the contact Philza's breath stutters for a moment, before his fingers reach out and trace where he was touched. It's a slow movement, one alongside which he mouths words without sound, before the fingers dart out and grab Fit's hand. He clings, tight, for a long moment, and then lets go with an exhale.
"Thanks mate," Philza's voice shakes, far too quiet for comfort. "... You can see the birds too, right?"
"Yeah," Fit frowns - for all he doubts reality, Philza has /never/ said he's seen a bird that Fit couldn't also see. "Let me see. Five or six blue parrots over there, three hummingbirds, another parrot in darker blue, pair of red ones, I think there's a green one in that tree over there... Four chickens, and then there's a grey bird by your ankle."
At the mention of the grey bird, a shaky hand reaches out, and Philza begins to pet its head. Fit knows of some people back in the wasteland who take animals to help with the trauma, but he can't help but think a bird is, right now, a terrible choice for his friend.
"So you are real," Philza speaks so gently to the parrot, though. "Here you go, come on up."
Fit watches quietly as Philza uncurls, sprinkling a handful of seed on his lap to tempt the bird up. Sure enough, it goes.
"What do you see in this photo?" Philza then asks, handing something to Fit.
It's a photo of a tree. It's not a tree that Fit can see nearby, but it is one for sure. A single black bird sits in it, watching.
"I thought crows had been banished from the island," Fit frowns. "Wild ones, anyway."
"Okay, okay," Philza runs one hand through his hair, and another over his bird's head. "I'm only going a bit crazy then."
"They're fucking with you," Fit frowns. "Else I'm somehow reliably hallucinating the same as you."
Philza shakes his head - Fit wonders just what happened in that birdhouse, that his friend's brain would rather deconstruct reality than face that it could have happened, and just what purpose it serves the Federation to try.
"This bird... You remember the parrots by the museum?"
"The ones that vanished?"
"When I got back to the bunker, he was in a cage right next to the trap door." Philza's eyes are wide, a little wild.
"Well shit." Fit frowns at it. "Same bird?"
Philza gently lifts one of the bird's wings, showing Fit a very distinctive pattern on it. Same bird, else the Federation did something extremely fucky.
"I have to cage him to bring him places. Dumbass doesn't understand ladders, let alone warps. I don't like caging him. But keeping him in the house is just another, bigger cage. I can't do that to him, Fit, I /can't/." Philza's fingers twitch as he says it. "But I can't let him go either. What if the Feds take him again? What if they hurt him? They hurt our children, why wouldn't they hurt him?"
"He sure seems happy enough to me." Fit doesn't actually know much about birds, but its eating out of Philza's lap and has never made any attempt to get away. "Likes you well enough, too."
"But its a /cage/, Fit," Philza emphasises the word. "I know he's only little, but the cage is small too."
It's not about the bird. There is no way in hell that this is about the bird. There is no universe, here or anywhere else, where this is actually about putting a bird in a cage for five minutes while Philza teleports.
Fit just isn't sure if Philza actually knows it isn't about the cage, though, and with him teetering on a full breakdown, decides its better not to ask.
Instead, he offers an arm. Philza collapses against his side.
"They were just fucking with you," Fit tries to reassure him. "Everything you're asked about has been real, your reality is fine, I'm here, you're here, we're both real. So are the birds. The eggs? Real. Missing, but real, and we will get them back."
"I wish they wouldn't despawn my withers so I could blow the fuckers up."
Fit gives a laugh, noting how Philza's own wings fluff up a little at the words.
"Same," he says. "I want to see it."
"Do you know how many I tried to spawn?" he asks. "And they just erased them from existence."
"Yeah, we noticed," Fit agrees. "Assholes."
Philza is still shaking a little, but laughs as he falls against Fit's side. He's managing to talk normal enough, but Fit's been around both him and the mentally fucked long enough to recognise the way his fingers cling and eye flitter. It's not the usual paranoia, he's looking at all the wrong things to check for danger - not the swamp, but the birds, Fit's hand, the sharestone...
Fit's communicator pings. Looking down he finds a message from Pac, 'how much longer will you be?'
'Not long. Can I bring Philza?' he replies. Then, a moment later, adds, 'Feds are fucking with him.'
There's a longer pause than Fit expects before he receives 'yes.' and then 'is he okay?'
"Hey Phil," Fit says, rather than immediately reply. "I was having a picnic with Pac and Mike. Do you want to join us?"
"I shouldn't-" Philza looks up.
Fit raises an eyebrow.
"Fine," Philza sighs. "I need to get rid of some toast anyway."
"That's the spirit!"
It really isn't; Fit tilts his communicator away from Philza as he types back. 'Not really. I'm worried.'
Pac doesn't reply again, or at least not immediately; Fit shoves his communicator back in his pocket, before untangling himself from Philza and hoisting himself up. "We have a blue sharestone set up; meet you at spawn?"
Philza doesn't reply as he collects his own sharestone and returns it to his inventory. He does, however, raise his portable warpstone as he traps his bird in a cage.
Fit waits to make sure Philza is actually leaving before raising his own as well. Spawn is far from beyond the Federation's influence, but its a hell of a lot safer than a random swamp... Fuck, 300,000 blocks out. Someone's always passing spawn, the Federation can't mess with it easily.
"Here," Fit points out the right sharestone as he arrives. "Mike hasn't even poisoned any tea yet! Or threatened to murder anyone today."
Philza's laugh is a little nervous, but he follows through anyway. Fit checks the map to make sure he got there, and follows.
He isn't surprised to get there and find the bird already free, sitting on Philza's shoulder, but how quickly he let it out...
It isn't about that bird and that cage at all.
"Fit!" both halves of Tazercraft at least are excited to have him back.
"I have wine!" Pac seems very excited about that, despite the concerned glance he throws at both Mike and Philza.
Fit does his best to give a reassuring one back - impossible given Philza's very quiet 'hi mate' before silently curling up under a tree. "Great! Sorry about the disruption, the swamp had crocodiles."
"Multiple?" Pac pulls a face - Fit would be Philza is convinced that Pac believes it, but Fit knows the tells. "Eesh."
"Bad luck," Mike passes Philza an entire bottle of wine before Fit can even think about subtly stopping him.
Philza does pour some into a glass before downing it. Right now, Fit will take what he can get. And if that is just he's going to need to play up his separation anxiety to keep Philza close and safe... He just hopes Pac and Mike understand, because he's not sure Philza will survive to see his kids again otherwise.
#qsmp fanfic#qsmp philza#qsmp fitmc#hurt/comfort#dissociation#angst#its a bit heavy on the dissociation but from an outsider perspective#also vague references to Fit's memory problems#a cage for a cage#or rather its aftermath#pac and mike are also here because I love them#oh god this got too long save me
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𝘉𝘌 𝘚𝘞𝘌𝘌𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘔𝘌, 𝘉𝘈𝘉𝘠 𝘍𝘛. 𝘓𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘈𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘕
- ̗̀໒ WARNINGS : TW FOR INSECURITY READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. f!reader, angsty in the beginning, loss of virginity, teasing, nipple play, begging, fingering, oral, mating press, creampie, squirting
- ̗̀໒ WORD COUNT : 2k
req: can we get a insecure virgin reader + levi plz? if ur comfy with it can it go into feel better smut? I've read all your fics on ao3 and I'm obsessed I need more of your writings! xx
Your tears make him feel sick to his stomach.
It breaks his heart, seeing the glimmering saltwater welling and spilling down your cheeks in damp tracks. Your lip wobbles as you sniffle while your hands shakily grasp his forearms, further widening the canyon opening in his gut.
"Why are you upset?" His voice is soft, trying his best to be soothing and not spook you. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel like he's coming towards you confrontationally.
"I feel," you hiccup, "I feel like you just don't like me- like that." The way your words dissolve into more tears.
It's a helpless feeling, not knowing why you feel this way or what to do about it. He knows he has a tendency to get lost in something, tunnel vision on whatever new release is happening or whatever game he's immersed in, but to know he made you feel so unimportant in the process? He thought you could see through all that, but maybe he'd just assumed rather than ever have a conversation about it.
His mind is racing, tripping over itself as his own hands shake. How long were you carrying this feeling? He felt like a fool, he was a fool; shamelessly failing you.
Yet, he's doing it again, staying silent for far too long and falling inside himself, leaving you to crumple against your mattress. You push him away as he attempts to hold onto you, console you. Instead wailing, "Am I not what you wanted?"
You feel stupid, humiliated, just wanting the earth to open underfoot and swallow you into it's depths. Anything to get away from this feeling. You were human, and he's been surrounded by the most beautiful inhuman beings for eons how could you believe you could compare?
Softly he places a hand to your back, fingers stroking up and down your spine in a deliberately comforting manner. "I... You're everything I wanted. I want you all the time, always, I want to be with you every second of every day. I feel real jealousy towards the people who are with you in moments that I'm not," you hear the hitch in his voice, "I think you're the best thing that's been in my life."
His face is aflame by the time you turn around, no longer feeling the need to hide so urgently. Not when he's just made himself, finally, vulnerable to you. "Do you really mean that?"
He swallows thickly, but his eyes never stray from yours and his hand comes to tightly lace your fingers together against the mattress.
"I really do. I just... You know how sometimes when things feel like they're going really well, say a sunny day happened- you don't bother to check the weather," his voice becomes smaller as he squeezes your hand, "but when the sun's out at midnight, you should be checking. I should've checked on you. Should've been less selfish all the time. I'm sorry-"
His words are cut off in a low groan of surprise as you throw yourself against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his skin. "I love you, it's not all on you. I should've- I should've said something, even just once."
His arms come firmly around you as you continue, "I just... I just want you to love me, too."
"I do love you," he murmurs against the side of your head, pressing his lips there just for that moment of closeness.
"Why haven't you shown me?"
That gives him pause. "What do you mean?"
It almost stumps him, truly. He makes sure to kiss you, always be there with you when he can, helps you with anything you need-
"You never try, you know, touching me," your voice is suddenly shy. "Haven't you wanted to?"
His breathing almost stops as you grasp his wrist tenderly, clearly giving him the space to pull away and say no if he wishes, but he doesn't. Instead watching with bated breath as it disappears beneath your shirt, feeling your warm skin under his fingertips.
Even when you draw your hand away, his remains, gingerly moving upward over your belly before stopping, letting the curve of his thumb and index rest beneath the swell of your bare breast.
You hum in approval, gently tugging him down as you let yourself fall back against the bedspread and pull him into a heated kiss, full of sudden desperation.
You nip at his bottom lip while he draws his hand back down, only to tug on the hem of your tshirt, prompting you to prop up on your elbows as your chest is exposed to the evening chill. When his lips wrap around one of your hardened nipples your head tips back with a groan, enjoying the feel of his tongue sliding over the bud.
Quickly you become restless, whining and moving your legs in an attempt to accommodate your fastly dampening underwear. You can feel the nerves standing on end, making you squirm even more and cueing Levi to slide his other hand down past the waist of your pajama pants.
The tips of his fingers rest just before he'd reach your slick folds, making your clit pulse in anticipation. You're trembling, trying to gasp out how badly you just need him to touch you or you might go insane.
It could've been hours with how much he was teasing you, coming up to slide his tongue between your lips and dipping back down to alternate attention between your breasts. That hand, however, remained still inside your panties.
You rutted your hips brazenly, not caring for anything but relief now, but he evades it. Always managing to move his hand ever so slightly so as to not touch you. The pressure was reaching its boiling point, your clit ached so fiercely it left you with fresh tears gathering in your waterline.
Finally as your eyes meet, his fingers slide through your slick folds and you nearly sob at the sensation. The sticky noises as he slides two fingers inside you, prodding your warm walls, and keeping steady pressure on your clit with his thumb makes you feel lightheaded. Still, you don't look away from him.
He's drinking in every expression like a fine wine: your pupils blown out and glassy, lips moving in moans and whimpers, the flex of your neck muscles wishing to tip back.
The feeling in your gut is akin to a spring loaded coil, just reeling and reeling further back with every swipe of his thumb over your clit and every curl of his fingers. The sheer intensity of the environment between you two makes that coil suddenly snap, causing you to break eye contact and wail in ecstasy.
Your thighs shake and your hands come to claw at his back furiously, mind going numb as you feel your bottoms growing wetter the more you writhe in the pleasure high.
As your orgasm slowly dissolves, rose colored world coming into focus when you open your eyes, your legs still tremble with aftershocks as his hand pulls out of your bottoms. You're floating, delightfully boneless as he leans back and tugs them down your legs.
His mouth waters at the glossy mess between your legs, watching the way you throb around nothing. All thought ceases when he shimmies down on his stomach between your legs, warm breath on your thighs sending a shiver down your spine.
His tongue slowly rolls from his lips while you're stuck still, eyes unable to look away, before licking a fat stripe up your messy cunt. He holds your folds open before going back in, tongue prodding your entrance and making your eyes roll back in your head.
He's a panting, moaning mess as he devours you and there's nowhere else he'd rather be than between your legs. Lithe fingers brush against your clit once more, relishing in the way it makes you squeal from above. He presses his tongue flat against it, feeling overjoyed at the way it tears an even bigger reaction from your body.
Something shifts, he wants, no needs, all of you right now or he feels like he may very well die. That thought is what has him shooting up, tugging his pants off and letting his throbbing cock smack against his abdomen as it springs from his underwear. Quickly he shuffles back between your legs, sliding his cock in between your sloppy folds.
You reach down to hold your legs open, mind switched off and only chasing the base instinct for complete intimacy with him. Slowly he presses forward, rocking his hips slowly before his cock fully nudges inside you. Your legs spasm as it does, fighting against the overstimulation as you gasp out but don't call for him to stop. Slowly he slides inside you until your hips are flush, once again watching your expressions. You look like the picture of bliss, chest heaving with full breaths and adjusting to the new sensation of being full.
It nearly renders him shocked as you cup your breasts, kneading your flesh and your hips grind up so that you're using him.
He lets you, holding your hips for support because honestly it's the hottest thing he's ever witnessed. You getting yourself off with his cock, like it was a toy, sets his head spinning. Your moans rise and rise as your pace becomes messy, frantic. Your back arches and your pussy clenched around him so firmly it makes him draw in a sharp inhale. It's beyond beautiful, watching you completely lose yourself and fall apart on his cock.
In your pleasure chasing daze you stop holding your legs up, letting them fall sharply and he eagerly chases after you, folding your legs up and pounding into your hungry cunt while one of your hands fists in his hair. He's never had the privilege to feel something this incredible, hearing you chant his name like a mantra and the sound of skin slapping in some perverse harmony.
He's clenching his jaw, unable to take his eyes off you as he feels you clamp down once more. It's only slightly jolting to feel liquid spray his abdomen but it doesn't make him slow down, if anything it only encourages his thrusts to become deeper and messier before slowing. Relaxing into the feeling of your pussy and his cock throbbing in time while he fills you to the brim with warm, opaque fluid.
He's certain you could never doubt his devotion again after tonight, and he'll make sure to see you fall apart and to fill you up again and again from here on. It's a promise on repeat in his mind as you both slow, coming to lay still against one another as you catch your collective breath.
Gently you release your grip on his hair, fingers lazily sliding through the strands instead as he presses his ear over your heart, just enjoying the afterglow especially with such an intense series of events tonight.
"I love you," he whispers into your skin, arms sliding beneath you as he relaxes further against your body.
#obey me smut#leviathan smut#obey me x reader#leviathan x reader#obey me x female reader#om! leviathan#obey me levi smut#obey me leviathan#obey me imagine#obey me shall we date#om smut#x reader#꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes
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IT'S GONNA KILL ME - E.M (VOLUME TWO)
summary: you knew that any words that came out of eddie's mouth were too go to be true, but he was proving your theory correct with any chance he could get. two could play that game.
w.c: 7.1k
warnings: SMUT. 18+ MDNI!!!. angst, swearing, drinking, party scene, mentions of being drunk, p in v, overstimulation, oral (m & f receiving), throatfucking, bondage (a belt), dom!eddie, fuckboy!eddie (all kinds of ! eddies), reader getting hurt during intercourse, unprotected sex, creampie. this is all i can think of and see for right now and i will update as necessary!
it’s gonna kill me vol. 1 (here)!
authors note at the end, pls read <3
It was easy to say the last three weeks between you and Eddie were less than eventful. You were both back to the intolerable normality of meet up and fuck, which slowly came to a stop; no obvious signs, no gentle touches, not even a kiss goodbye. You didn’t feel very exclusive to him, regardless of his last words to you that night.
You should’ve known better— should’ve expected it from him. He wasn’t hard to read, he was a guarded person who had fortified armies around his very being. He didn’t feel remorse, he basically didn’t feel anything, which was only evident from the glimpse of him with another girl in the woods ravaging at his neck just as you had done—eyes laced with sacrilegious intent.
You could tell from the way his eyes pierced blazing holes into you that he never meant a word of what he said.
It was about time you ventured to someone different, someone with no attachments, someone you had barely known. It was the perfect opportunity to release all the anger pent up inside of you, transfer it into this poor human being looking for no more than a good fuck. Chris didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he thought he had bagged a horny babe looking for hookups—little did he know he was trespassing.
You and Chris had tentatively planned to go to a party you both just happened to get an invite to, which meant the two of you were in an awkward limbo until you were positive you wanted to be seen with him in public. You and Chris were not together, no one had seen you together, and you weren’t a couple; but people in Hawkins loved to shoot the shit. It was a never ending cycle of sneaking around to avoid the judgmental looks sent your way from the ruthless citizens that resided within.
You and Chris had tentatively planned to go to a party you both just happened to get an invite to, which meant the two of you were in an awkward limbo until you were positive you wanted to be seen with him in public. You and Chris were not together, no one had seen you together, and you weren’t a couple; but people in Hawkins loved to shoot the shit. It was a never ending cycle of sneaking around to avoid the judgmental looks sent your way from the ruthless citizens that resided within.
Ultimately, you decided to go to the party with Chris—god forbid if anyone saw you there together. You already mapped out your plan for the night: you would arrive with Chris, go “get a drink”, and just happen to get lost. Your interest in him had waned and he was pretty annoying. It wasn’t a well thought out plan, but this man was dense.
―
It was about twenty til eight, just about the time he was supposed to be picking you up. On cue, his headlights were flashing through your living room windows, casting a warm glow on everything that lay untouched. You were usually home by yourself and things began to collect dust. Your parents were away more often than not on various trips, meetings and vacations they claimed their job sent them on. Sometimes, they went away for entire weekends to visit your brother in Pennsylvania, leaving you on your own. You didn’t mind though, you liked your alone time.
You gathered your wallet and house keys in one hand and finished the fruity drink you called your pregame, which was clutched in your other, and discarded it as you walked out the front door, making sure to lock it behind you. The chill winter wind bit at the apples of your cheeks with a shade of rouge covering your skin as your breath fanned out in front of you, only to be left behind you with each quick step towards Chris’ car. Winter had just set in the dreary land of Indiana and soon enough the roads would be too treacherous to venture out onto.
“Hey there, sweetheart.” Chris shot you a wink as you shut the passenger door behind you and you fought to hold back the gag that threatened to force its way out at the blazen ick he gave you
You were always the one throwing around pet names, but now you hated them. The very thought of a title being put in place instead of your name made your whole body cringe—it was never the same after things were cut off with Eddie. You grew to hate the very thought of being with someone romantically, and frankly you didn’t care about others anymore. Since then Chris was always the middleman between you and your constant inner quarrel with your feelings, doggedly taking the brunt of it.
“Hey.” It was all you could give to him.
Chris was fast to put the car into drive and head to the party. The radio was playing low as the defroster worked double time to keep up with the cold air, preventing it from fogging up and distorting the driver’s view. Soft tunes reverberated from the sides and the back of the car as you fiddled with the hem of your sweater.
“I wonder how many people are gonna be there tonight considering the roads are absolute shit.”
Out of all things Chris could’ve been good at—it was small talk. He was the type of person to never leave you alone, silence was not his thing, and you hated that. You knew it wasn’t his fault. He’d seen every inch of you clothed and completely naked, so what was the issue? What was your problem?
“‘M not sure, hopefully not too many people with how cramped Lacy’s trailer already is.”
Lacy was a distant friend, yet a decent one at that. The two of you didn’t always talk but made time for the annual get together, consisting of talking shit about fellow schoolmates and complaining about home lives. It was the one thing you seemed to look forward to.
Chris took your small replies as a notion to cease the small talk and focus on the road. It wasn’t too long until the snow covered sign of the Forest Hills Trailer Park came into view and you were pulling into the drive. Previous car tracks surrounded by the wintry mix led to the back of the second set of living quarters, while shoe prints and red solo cups littered the outskirts.
Plenty of unfamiliar faces were staggered around the front of Lacy’s trailer, all accompanied by a significant other or friends, none recognizable though. Most of the guests were clad in their winter attire with the bottom halves of their faces covered by the wool scarves their mothers made them, no doubt. It was a trailer party, after all.
—
Eddie fucking hated parties, they weren’t his forte, neither were small spaces in general—so you can only imagine how a party in a trailer was going to go. Unlucky enough for him it was a brisk three minute walk down the unpaved road to get there.
Eddie weighed out his options on what the night could possibly have in store for him: getting drunk (that was a must), skipping out and going to The Hideout, fucking some random, lighting up in his van at the quarry—really anything to get him out of his damned trailer. He definitely wasn’t planning on having a companion for the party, nor was he planning on going home with anybody—but drunk Eddie was the worst at sticking to his planned agenda.
He made a swift beeline to the drinks while his eardrums shrieked in terror at the god awful music they were playing. Rock Me Amadeus by Falco was not on his party playlist.
The assortment of alcohol that lay before him wasn’t very vast; wine coolers, hard liquor, and natty light. Trailer party. He went with hard liquor, anything to not have the taste of perfume or cat piss, an unwelcoming yet unsurprising taste for the quality of beer, lingering in his mouth.
He even took a shot. Or, it was supposed to be one. One turned into multiple shots of lukewarm whiskey, but one thing about Eddie was that he could hold his liquor in ways others couldn’t. He may have been on the skinny side, not much meat to him, but plenty of nights at The Hideout while trying to shake pre-show jitters was enough to condition him.
Alas, nothing had been stimulating him well enough and he quickly grew bored, which ultimately led to him taking a step outside on the front porch to light the pre-roll he had with him. He never left home without one—even when home was a couple of yards away. His motto was always you never know when you might need to show up and toke up.
As he took long drags from his joint, his last exhale caught in his throat and his eyes trailed to the end of Lacy’s driveway, finding you almost instantaneously. Tears were brimming at his lash line as he tried to clear the burning in his throat, coughing up a lung—smooth move, Eddie.
You were placed under Chris’ arm like a new found toy he couldn’t wait to show off, but your face said what you didn’t need to. Your lips were pressed into a tight line and your eyes stayed harsh. Eddie could see you were unhappy and couldn’t help but feel resentment within him starting to bubble. Although, it was pretty fucking funny to see you with Chris out of all people—lord knows that man didn’t even know what a vagina looked like. The jealousy didn’t last long, pity soon took over, and he couldn’t help but feel for you. There was no way Chris was pleasing you, satisfying you the way you deserved.
Eddie removed himself from the situation before you could notice him and made his way back inside with a gameplan. If you could show up with someone else knowing Eddie would be there, he was going to find someone too.
It didn’t require much effort to find a desperate girl looking for a dick to grind on, then again, he was pretty charming when his high was doing the talking for him.
—
You wrapped your arms around your exposed torso, compensating for the lack of fabric since you had opted for a smaller shirt—hoping to bring some sort of spice to your night. Chris attached himself to your hip and grabbed your arm as he led you to the front. You really weren’t in the mood for being paraded around, nor were you willing to deal with the quizzical looks or questions of whether you two were together or not so you were in a foul mood. Definitely shouldn’t have come with him.
The two of you ventured your way inside as waves of bodies crashed into one another in the tight space. Music resounded off the walls while the very picture frames holding sacred memorabilia rattled. As the bass crept into the tattered wood, the paneling of the walls squeaked and you could feel every step of the other partygoers.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink, I’ll be back.”
You were grabbing a drink, but you sure as hell weren’t coming back for Chris.
You sighed to yourself as your eyes scanned the excited crowd of inebriated teenagers, shuffling your way into the kitchen. The counters were littered with alcohol; while most of the bottles were tipped on their sides, the remaining liquor poured out onto the laminate tops, subsequently covering every item in a sticky glaze.
You decided to pour yourself a drink from a bottle containing blue liquid rather than opting for the spiked punch that seemed to make an appearance at every get together. You took a few sips of your liquor as a familiar warmth coated your throat and you were pleased it didn’t taste disgusting, a content sigh leaving your lips after you finished off the rest.
It didn’t take long for a few more cups of liquor to hit your system and leave you with a floaty buzz that lingered in your actions— rendering you quick to forget Chris had been your plus one.
A familiar voice traveled through your ears and sent a pang to your chest as you eavesdropped into a conversation nearby.
“We can totally go back to my place, yeah? No pet names though, or any funny business like that. Just this once, ‘kay?”
You could feel the resentment in this man’s voice.
“Haha, yeah, totally.” The female drunkenly giggled.
Your features dropped, a frown contorting onto your lips.
Eddie.
This is bullshit, absolutely not.
You poured yourself a fresh cup of a red wine that was untouched and mustered up all the courage left in you to turn the corner in an abrupt motion. You were holding the cup out in front of you with only a soft grip on it, any quick movement was sure to knock it onto whoever it came in contact with. The scarlet liquid proceeded to spill all down the front of the ‘innocent’ victim, a groan of disgust leaving the male’s lips.
“Oops?” You mocked as you looked the person up and down with a scowl and shrug of your shoulders.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Your eyes blinked rapidly trying to clear the blurred vision that distorted Eddie’s figure.
“Looks like you have a little something on you there, need me to help?”
He snarled through gritted teeth as his hands balled into tight fists. “No, actually we were just leaving. I don’t need your help, she can help me.”
Eddie wrapped his hand around the drunk female’s arm and yanked harshly, eyes burning into you as you stood with your mouth agape.
“Yeah, alright! Go ahead! Fuck her, sounds like a plan. Not like you said you’ll be exclusively seeing me or anything—I was the best one you had, nah.” Your tongue was laced with venom and your blood boiled beneath your skin.
You could visibly see Eddie’s body tense up as the words hit him. You could see each syllable savor within his being. His grip was loosened immediately and the girl’s arm was thrown back to her side as he charged towards you. In one swift motion your wrist was enveloped in his large grasp and you were being rushed away to the backyard of the trailer—his trailer visible from where you two were.
“What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me, Eddie?” All emphasis was pushed onto his name.
“I have no fucking clue,” he drawled, “I saw you were here with Chris anyways, why don’t you go find him? Go fuck him, huh?” His finger drilled directly into your chest.
You cackled in disbelief. “You think I want to be here with Chris? How stupid do you really have to be to think I want to be at a party with Chris?”
Eddie’s hands fell beside him, gripping the fabric from his denim jacket while his knuckles turned white.
He knew you didn’t want to be at the party with Chris, but it was really all he could use against you considering the circumstances—he was the one who left you hanging.
“Are you just going to sit here and bitch at me, or go fuck Hannah and Emily? Or god knows who?” You spat at him as your face was riddled in disbelief that he had the nerve to confront you about Chris.
“Can you just shut the fuck up for two seconds? Like is that a thing you can do?” Eddie glared.
“No, actually I can’t. Do you want to know why?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, good. I was going to tell you anyway.”
“You were the one who told me I was the best. You were the one who said you exclusively see me. How I am acting, Eddie, is completely your fault, and you’re too self centered to even notice anything!”
By then your hands were trembling and your words were flying out faster than your mouth could form them.
Eddie stood unphased as you unleashed on him. He knew he was in the wrong, but it's what he did, and you should’ve known that.
“Oh look at me! My name’s Y/N and all I want is a boyfriend to care for me and kiss the soles of my feet because I’m just such a lovely lady! Eddie’s the perfect candidate! He loves me, and I know he does! He’s just the best!” Eddie mocked, voice significantly a few octaves higher, “you’re a fucking idiot. If you would’ve opened your eyes for just one second outside of me fucking you, you would’ve realized I’m one of the most unavailable people in all of Hawkins! You just don’t want to accept I didn’t want you.”
He was lying to you and himself.
The air between the both of you grew hotter as you invaded each other’s space. The veins in his neck bulged and your face flushed red hot as you screamed at one another—chests heaving and hearts racing.
“Pah! You’re hilarious—are you a comedian?” You almost fell forward from the outburst of laughter that left your mouth.
“Shut your mouth, Y/N. I swear to god if people see us having a lovers quarrel at this party—” He trailed off while he snatched a hand over your mouth.
You ripped Eddie’s hand off of your mouth and glared.
“We’re not lovers. You don't do that, remember? And the reason why we’re even having this quarrel is because of you! You’re too fucking selfish, you say you don’t want me but you roped me into this. All of a sudden it’s such an issue that I’m pissed off and here with someone else, who I don’t even really want to be here with—but why would that even matter? Unless you care, and you’re too worried about what I would think, hm?”
Eddie snickered as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “That’s a good one, Y/N. Now you’re the comedian!”
“Hilarious, I know." You deadpanned.
Eddie stood before you, eyebrows quirked as his nostrils flared with vexation. You could see his heartbeat bounding off of the alabaster skin of his neck that was riddled in marks from various women. Eddie was out of his element—he was never the one at a loss for words. His thumbs twiddled beneath him with each corner of his thumbs inflamed from the incessant picking at them that he was doing.
“Alright since I’ve struck you speechless, here’s what you’re gonna do,” you paused as you snapped in front of his face with curtness, “You’re taking me back to your trailer. Do you copy, Edward?”
His only response was a stiff nod.
—
The silence between the two of you was deafening. Nothing could resolve the insufferable tinnitus that played between your ears; not the booms from the attendees, and not even the roars of the engines going up and down the drive.
There was a significant amount of distance between you and Eddie as you walked—he stayed on his side and you stayed on yours, reluctant to not have any lingering touches of each other's hands swaying back and forth.
Eddie’s features were hardened; his lips showed no emotion, his eyes stayed lidded to the ground, while the muscles of his jaw tensed with every step he took. Eddie was uncomfortable, and he really did not want to do this—so why was he letting you coerce him into this? It couldn’t have been the way he was drawn to you, nor the way you made him realize what he had wanted.
According to Eddie there was absolutely no way possible his fortified armies were surrendering. He saw no tattered white flag being waved around his heart, and there wasn’t ever going to be one at that. Those armies surrounding his heart were to stay on full lockdown, but they could for only a small amount of time until you started treading through No Man’s Land.
Your army consisted of you, and only you. You tore through endless cities while you left a warpath in your wake as you came to your final destination—Eddie.
As you stumbled upon the steps leading into Eddie’s trailer you pondered at who might’ve been here when you weren’t. Could it have been Pam Macy, or Chissy? Or god forbid Lacy?
You inhaled deeply through your nose as the familiar scent of his humble abode tickled your senses, his trailer hadn’t changed much. The numerous caps on the wall that collected dust lay in the same spots they were while the coffee table littered with taxes and bills remained unkempt. Dashes of empty beer cans and microwaveable dinners lay across the counters as you strode by to his room. You even made sure you were careful enough to not step on any of the land mines of dirty clothes that trailed back. You paid no mind to the disarray that was his trailer though, you knew they were scraping by for all they could.
“Alright, why are we here?” He stared at you quizzically as his left hip popped out—a nervous habit he developed from his unsteady childhood.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” You drawled while making yourself comfortable on his bed, a bed that was all too familiar to you by now.
“Jesus christ, Y/N,” he huffed, “I’m so sick of this back and forth. You tell me this shit is my fault, then you don’t elaborate. And then to top it all off you turn around and attempt to interrogate me as if I can follow all of the incoherent sentences that come out of your fucking mouth!”
Ouch. That was a low blow and he knew it.
You couldn’t stand the way he talked to you, but his strong stature lured you in. All dignity that was left within you circled the drain by the second until it completely left your body and seeped into the floor, leaving a mortifying puddle at your feet. Your bottom lip trembled as you swiftly made your way over to Eddie, hoping he wouldn’t murder you for what you were about to do.
You raised your left hand and wound it back as if it was under tension until the spring let loose in your elbow and the flat of your palm came in contact with Eddie’s cheek. A welt and imprint of your hand formed almost immediately while you were able to notice small blood vessels bursting under his skin, interrupting his ivory complexion.
Eddie stood unphased as the only noticeable feature were his eyes darkening underneath the dim light of his lamp.
A malicious smirk spread across his face as he soothed his cheek with his left hand—cool rings bringing comfort to the sting.
In a blur Eddie’s free hand attached to the nape of your neck simultaneously drawing you closer.
Well this certainly wasn’t the plan.
Both of your hands reached to grab at his wrist that strained under the pressure of pulling you closer while all of your attempts to get him to detach failed. His grip trailed to the front of your neck now, still no words being spoken from either party.
“Eddie—,”
“Shut up.”
With little to no effort, similar to if you were a rag doll, you were tossed onto the bed—and Eddie was quick to follow up. He slotted himself above you, his face as though it was chiseled from the marble the Greek’s used.
With one finger he gestured up and down your quivering figure, “do not move.”
All color drained from your cheeks as Eddie worked at your hands with his belt which resulted in you losing any leverage. A carnal instinct was inhabiting itself inside of Eddie, burrowing deep within his skin and trumping any sense of remorse that lingered.
The constant turmoil that festered inside of him when he looked at you was truly the worst, he had never been so at war with his mind before. Both battalions in each hemisphere of his brain were waiting for the next command, armed and dangerous as they defended their morals. The morals in question were whether or not Eddie was to give up his deadbeat persona of being the ‘sex god of Hawkins’, or finally surrendering and telling himself to raise up his white flag just for you. By the end of the night either side would come out victorious; however, it may not happen the way he hoped for.
This back and forth the two of you were doing was sending him into a spiral, the real culprit being his feelings that he dreaded, but it wasn’t going to stop him. Eddie planned on getting what he wanted regardless of how he had to do it. That thing he wanted lay in front of him on the bed with big doe eyes piercing through him, wrists bound, lips pouting—just the way he preferred. You.
Eddie danced his fingers along the curvature of your hips to your waist, finally stopping at their final destination on your supple lips. He pried your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb and gently swiped it across, resulting in a small bounce back from them since his hands had been clammy. He could feel your body quivering beneath him as he was still hovering over you; scared of what was to come.
With both hands he ravaged at your shirt, you were sure it was going to tear from the brute force he applied. You could hear the seams popping as he worked around your bound wrists—until you couldn’t. Your bare chest was displayed (much to his liking), nipples budding at the bite of the cold air that engulfed his trailer; Wayne hadn’t paid the electric bill this week. You could feel the intensity of Eddie’s stare as it trailed from your navel only to stop at your neck, his eyes bulging out of his head almost instantly.
A familiar heat rose from the floor and into Eddie as his pupils blew and his jaw clenched.
Were those marks from Chris?
Eddie huffed through his nose and jolted towards you, never missing a beat as he grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you to him.
“So now you’re letting Chris touch you? Unbelievable,” he scoffed as he tossed your face to the side in revulsion.
“I—,” you choked.
“What did I say?”
Your eyes fluttered down in defeat. You could see the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest with each sharp inhale and exhale that he took; he was fuming. You hated letting Chris touch you, let alone just look at you, but you still had needs that required being tended to—but Eddie wasn’t going to listen.
The rest of your garments were quickly discarded by him to the floor as his followed right behind. He placed both hands on your inner thighs, his fingertips leaving indents in your pliable flesh. Eddie pried your legs apart, salivating at the sight of your bareness before him, this was his favorite part; you were vulnerable and you couldn’t do anything about it. His mouth attached to where your thigh and pelvis met while he suckled and nipped at the skin with intent to leave a trail behind.
To say Eddie was fuming at the thought of Chris’ mouth on your body was the understatement of the year. Granted, Eddie was the one who did leave you, and the one who led you on—but he never expected you to go out and fuck someone else. He was too strung up in the fact he thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but yet again, he was wrong.
Each reminder fueled his malicious intentions with you tonight, each becoming stronger than the last. His mind spun as he began to feast on your core. You were dripping from the force he was using on you, and you tasted divine. He had been starved of this, starved of you—completely malnourished that just the taste of you sent him into a ravenous disposition of no return.
He lapped up all that he could before prodding into your hole with the tip of his tongue, each stroke deeper than the last. Eddie hovered his thumb around the hood of your clit, only gently flicking when he reentered his tongue to match the pace of his thrusts.
“Dear lord,” you mumbled out breathily.
Eddie worked and worked at you while you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Profanities slipped past your gaped lips and hung in the air that surrounded you two; and the scent of sex, weed, and sweat wasn’t following too far after. Your wrists were still bound in front of you and within no time the handcuff links started to bite at the delicate skin around them, leaving small—but noticeable—irritated splits in place. You yearned to lace your fingers throughout his locks that cascaded down his shoulders and hung besides his chiseled cheeks but you were rendered helpless.
There had been multiple chances for you to have had your release by now, but Eddie wasn’t going to be generous with you tonight. He could feel you clench your walls around him and hear your breath hitch in your throat, yet was quick to halt all movements he was making so your orgasm would dissipate. It was borderline torture what he was doing to you, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You needed a break—your body needed a break.
“Good god Eddie,” you writhed under the harsh grip he had on your thighs, “it’s too much. T-too sensitive, please. Please for god’s sake.”
Your chest heaved with each syllable as your eyes fluttered to the back of your head, only the small galaxies that rippled across the back of your eyelids keeping you grounded.
Eddie’s eyebrow quirked up at your pathetic pleading, able to decipher what you needed without you elaborating. The male grabbed your hips and slung you to the edge of the bed on your back so your head was hanging off, hair tumbling beside you.
Eddie reached to his nightstand and shuffled through the top drawer, returning with a lit pre-roll in his posession. He took a long drag from it and exhaled with his lips pointed downwards for the smoke to invade your space, and sneak into your lungs. You inhaled with each exhale that he aimed towards you. You could feel the pulsating between your legs, the way Eddie’s comforter caressed the baby hairs on your arms, the ache that settled behind your knees and in your calves, and the heaviness of your surroundings.
It wasn’t even thirty minutes in and your mind had been fucked out, yet the marijuana contrasted everything you were feeling in that moment. While you huffed and puffed beneath him with worry that your wrists were never going to be set free, you knew that Eddie had you—just like Eddie always had you—and he was going to take care of you the way that he always took care of you.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he gripped the entirety of his cock in one hand and tapped it against your lips.
You willingly obliged and he was quick to push himself to the hilt of your throat, emerging an instant gag from inside of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he nuzzled himself inside of your throat—you could feel the bulge that poked underneath where your chin and neck had met.
“That’s it—,” Eddie praised with a soft pat to your right cheek, “good fucking girl.”
You grunted in response around him eliciting a heavenly moan from his mouth, more smoke tumbling past his chapped lips. He began to thrust into your mouth, assaulting your uvula and the top of your mouth. He would pull out fully to let you gasp for air, as you choked on the oxygen that your lungs so desperately needed.
Eddie grasped onto each side of your head for more leverage with one hand taking a fistful of hair and continued his fluid motions of pillaging your throat. Spit began to pool at the corners of your mouth and trickle down to your temples, knotting your hair in the process and leaving a puddle of spit beneath you.
Your throat was growing sore along with your bound wrists, and Eddie was able to tell. He could see the distraughtness that covered your features, leaned forward with his length still in your mouth and hastily removed the belt that restricted you up until now. Regardless of the discomfort you were in you could feel the wetness that gathered between your legs and covered your thighs, complete embarrassment wiping over your body. Your cheeks flushed a bright red and your eyes stayed half-lidded as Eddie observed you from above.
“Poor poor thing, too cock drunk to even tell me that I was hurting you.”
He gently caressed your shoulder and grabbed your wrists to inspect them, still inhabiting your mouth with his throbbing length.
You whipped your head backwards, spit dripping down the tip of your nose with an uneasy feeling in your stomach from the amount of times you had gagged around him.
“It’s kinda hard to protest when your cock is in my mouth and I can’t move my fucking hands, ‘ya know?”
“Thanks for the insight, dumbass,” he chortled.
“Anytime,” you deadpanned.
Eddie reached forward, cock twitching from the cool air brushing past it, and grabbed your hands while being mindful of the open sores on your wrists. He looked down at them and maneuvered you to be facing him, his lanky frame still wavering over you. Everything about you was a mess: your mascara left tracks down the apples of your cheeks, dried spit covered your chin and neck, and your hair had been knotted behind your ears and near the nape of your neck.
“‘M sorry about your wrists, didn’t think you’d pull that hard,” he whispered as he circled his thumb around them.
“All good, nothin’ I can’t handle. Now are we gonna get this show on the road?” A smirk encapsulated your lips as your eyes glimmered under the dim, warm light of Eddie’s domain.
You situated yourself to where your legs were propped up and spread on the edge of the bed, your head meeting in the dip where Eddie laid the most.
Eddie dropped to his knees in front of you with blown pupils, face level with your puffy lips beneath you. He cradled each of your thighs in his hands before taking one swipe of his tongue over each fold, inserting himself instantaneously after. Eddie filled you up like no other—not even Chris had made you feel so full to the point it felt like he was going to rip through your uterus and puncture through your stomach. It was a comfortable stretch nonetheless, you enjoyed—more like loved—having Eddie bury himself so deep inside of you. You adored his ridges, his veins, his mushroom tip that prodded each spot so perfectly. You’d be a liar to say you didn’t miss this.
“Oh fuck—,” Eddie wavered from above you, hands gripping the sheets beside you.
He was quick to thrust into you, not sparing any time for you to adjust to the newfound stretch. A cacophony of sounds ranging from skin slapping, whimpering, and moaning reverberated in both of your ears, blissfulness settling in over the both of you.
As Eddie barrelled into you your hips pulled back to meet each movement forward, eliciting sweet sounds of pleasure from your lips. He curled his lower half upward to prod at the spongy spot that was located just past your entrance, each thrust harsher than the other. His hand found its home placed around your neck and gently placed pressure on the sides, rather than directly on your windpipe. Stars clouded your vision and your mouth hung open, only choked out moans and whimpers able to be heard from you.
“You take it so fucking good. Did you know that, baby? You can handle me better than anyone else can. Eddie’s so proud of you,” he praised as he bent forward to lick a stripe near your earlobe.
“I always knew that, Eds.”
A cynical smile curled onto his lips and his pace quickened. You could feel a burning growing in your stomach, trailing down to either side of your thighs, and down to your toes. It developed fast and grew even faster when he began assaulting your clit with his free hand, the calluses giving an otherworldly sensation to the overstimulation you were already experiencing from your never-ending night.
“R-right there, please, please don’t stop, Eddie,” you drawled out.
Eddie took that as a sign to quicken his pace and pour everything into you. He could feel your walls sputter around him as your release took over your body, the liquid covering both him and the sheets underneath you. You threw your head back crying out in pleasure and frustration as Eddie’s hands and cock resumed pillaging you, relentlessly plunging into you. With each entrance the head of length gave your cervix kisses, sure to leave it bruised, and sure to leave you with a bit of soreness the next day. But who were you to care when it felt this good?
“J-Jesus H. Ch-Christ, Y/N, your pussy loves me,” he mocked, yet stuttering as he was nearing his end as well. “She’s so needy for me, I can feel her sucking me in for more.”
Eddie pushed you further onto the bed and flipped you around so that you were on all fours. He grasped each ass cheek that lay displayed in front of him and quickly submerged himself back inside with a shiver. It took him no time to resume where he had left off, his hand now placed back around your neck so his chest was pressed flush against your back. He contorted your body to hit your spongy spot once again, your thighs shaking from beneath in response.
“Cum inside, do it, Eds.”
“Right where I was going to anyway. Jesus fuck—,” he stuttered with the lasts of his strikes into you.
You could feel him twitch inside of your gummy walls, his hot seed covering everything it came into contact with as his thrusts faltered. His body fell forward and he was now hunched over top of you with your face buried into the musky comforter that was now soiled. Eddie peppered small kisses over the small of your back and left them hovering just behind the shell of your ear.
“You did so good,” he mumbled with his hot breath fanning across your neck.
Eddie was pussy drunk as he came down from his high, so inebriated to the point where coherent thoughts were thrown out of the window and back at the party you both abandoned.
He placed himself next to you in a more comfortable position now, both of you now laying rightways on his bed. You stared over at him as you traced your eyes along his silhouette; his hair was matted to his forehead and his brow laid firm across his face as he steadied his breathing.
“Quit staring.”
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh—even when he was so fucked out he was still his egotistical self.
Eddie slung one arm around your shoulders and pulled you to him, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent invaded his nose; lavender, bergamot, and the sweet smell of your release reminded him he was where he should be—beside you in his bed.
—
The morning sun shone through the blankets Eddie hung up as makeshift curtains since he couldn’t afford any real ones and breezes of cool air came through the cracks of his window. It was the perfect concoction to disturb the peaceful sleep you had dozed off into the night before.
You blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust your eyes to light that distorted your view after just waking up. Eddie’s arm was still wrapped around, only now it was around your torso and his leg was sprawled across. You sighed quietly to yourself, careful to not disturb him as he was still asleep.
You unlatched his arm from around you and sat up gently, swinging your legs to the edge of the bed. You pinched the bridge of your nose between your pointer finger and thumb, penitent of what you were about to do to him.
It was an extensive search to find your clothes among the sea of dirty clothes piles that belonged to Eddie, reluctant to find they weren’t too far when you stumbled near the door. You slipped yourself into last night's garments and whisked yourself out of his bedroom after taking one last look at him as he rested. His mane stayed unkempt even in the early morning, curling around his ears and forehead while he took deep and even breaths. Only slight twitches came from him as his brow furrowed—you wondered what he had been dreaming about.
You didn’t want to do this to him, but he left you with no choice. After previous occurrences you had to give him a taste of his own medicine whether you liked it or not. You were never the person who up and left, you were the one getting attached quicker than what you liked to admit, and this was hard for you to do. It was especially hard after how sweet he had been when he noticed he’d hurt you last night—but it was what you had to do. You had to show him what it was like.
You whisked yourself out of his front door, not allowing yourself any time to think further about Eddie or last night. You soon realized that Chris was the one who had dropped you off and you were left with walking home, or searching for the nearest phone booth to have someone pick you up—you opted for the latter and continued on your way home.
—
Eddie soon woke up after you had left, the noticeable indent in his bed missing. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his balled fists and groaned as he got up to put on a pair of most likely dirty sweatpants.
“Y/N?” He called out as he popped his head around the door of his room.
You were nowhere in sight.
He ventured into the living room to see the screen door and the storm door hanging open, the cold winter breeze taking the opportunity to invade his humble abode. All that was left behind were your shoe prints that led to the entrance of the desolate trailer park.
To be continued.
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson series#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie st4#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#stranger things angst#stranger things fluff#stranger things one shot#firefly-graphics
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DARKNESS AT THE BREAK OF NOON SHADOWS EVEN THE SILVER SPOON THE HANDMADE BLADE THE CHILDS BALLON ECLIPSE BOTH THE SUN AND MOON TO UNDERSRAND YOU KNOW TOO SOON THERE IS NOW SENSE IN TRYING POINTED THREATS THEY BLUFF WITH SCORN SUICIDE REMARKS ARE TORN FROM THE FOOLS GOLD MOUTHPIECE THE HOLLOW HORN PLAYS WASTED WORDS PROVES TO WARN THAT HE NOT BUSY BEING BORN IS BUSY DYING TEMPTATIONS PAGE FLIES OUT THE DOOR YOU FOLLOW FIND YOURSELF AT WAR WATCH WATERFALLS OF PITY WAR YOU FEEL TO MOAN BUT UNLIKE BEFORE YOU’D DISCOVER THAT YOU’D JUST BE ONE MORE PERSON CRYING SO DON’T FEAR IF YOU HEAR A FORIEGN SOUND TO YOUR EAR ITS ALRIGHT MA I’M ONLY SIGHING AS SOME WARN VICTORY SOME DOWNFALL PRIVATE REASONS GREAT OR SMALL CAN BE SEEN IN THE EYES OF THOSE WHO CALL THAT MAKE ALL THAT SHOULD BE KILLED TO CRAWL WHILE OTHERS SAY DON’T HATE NOTHING AT ALL EXCEPT HATRED DISILLUSIONED WORDS LIKE BULLETS BARK AS HUMAN GODS AIM FOR THEIR MARK MAKE EVERYTHING FROM TOY GUNS THAT SPARK TO FLESH COLORED CHRISTS THAT GLOW IN THE DARK IT’S EASY TO SEE WITHOUT LOOKING TO FAR THAT NOT MUCH IS REALLY SACRED WHILE PREACHERS PREACH OF EVEIL FATES TEACHERS TEACH THAT KNOWLEDGE WAITS CAN LEAD TO HUNDRED DOLLAR PLATES GOODNESS HIDES BEHIND ITS GATES BUT EVEN THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES SOMETIMES MUST HAVE TO STAND NAKED AND ALTHOUGH THE RULES OF THE ROAD HAVE BEEN LODGED ITS ONLY PEOPLES GAMES YOU GOT TO DODGE AND ITS ALRIGHT MA I CAN MAKE IT ADVERTISING SIGNS THAT CON YOU INTO THINKING YOURE THE ONE THAT CAN DO WHATS NEVER BEEN DONE THAT CAN WIN WHATS NEVER BEEN WON MEANWHILE LIFE OUTSIDE GOES ON ALL AROUND YOU YOU LOSE YOURSELF YOU REAPPEAR YOU SUDDENLY FIND YOUVE GOT NOTHING TO FEAR ALONE YOU STAND WITH NOBODY NEAR WHEN A TREMBLING DISTANT VOICE UNCLEAR STARTLES YOUR SLEEPING EARS TO HEAR THAT SOMEBODY THINKS THEY REALLY FOUND YOU A QUESTION IN YOUR NERVES IS LIT YET YOU KNOW THERE IS NO ANSWER FIT TO SATISFY ENSURE YOU NOT TO QUIT TO KEEP IT IN YOUR MIND AND NOT FORGET THAT IT IS NOT HE OR SHE OR THEM OR IT THAT YOU BELING TO BUT THOUGH THE MASTERS MAKE THE RULES FOR THE WISE MEN AND THE FOOLS I GOT NOTHING MA TO LIVE UP TO FOR THEM THEY MUST OBEY AUTHORITY THAT THEY DO NOT RESPECT IN ANY DEGREE WHO DESPISE THEIR JOBS THEIR DESTINY SPEAK JEALOUSY OF THEM THAT ARE FREE DO WHAT THEY DO JUST TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN SOMETHING THEY INVEST IN WHILE SOME ON PRINCIPLES BAPTIZED TO STRICT PARTY PLATFORM TIES SOCAIL CLUBS IN DRAG DISGUISE OUTSIDERS THEY CAN FREELY CRITICIZE TELL NOTHING BUT WHK TO IDOLIZE AND SAY GOD BLESS HIM WHILE ONE WHO SINGS WITH HIS TONGUE ON FIRE GARGLES IN THE RAT RACE CHOIR BENT OUT OF SHAPE FROM SOCIETYS PLIERS CARES NOT TO COME UP ANY HIGHER BUT RATHER GET YOU DOWN IN THE HOLE THAT HES IN BUT I MEAN NO HARM NOR PUT FAULT ON ANYONE THAT LIVES IN A VAULT BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IF I CAN PLEASE HIM OLD LADY JUDGES WATCH PEOPLE IN PAIRS LIMITED IN SEX THEY DARE TO PUSH FAKE MORAL INSULT AND STARE WHILE MONEY DOESNT TALK IT SWEARS OBSCENITY WHO REALLY CARES PROPAGANDA ALL IS PHONY WHILE THEM THAT DEFEND WHAT THEY CANNOT SEE WITH KILLERS PRIDE SECURITY IT BLOWS THE MIND MOST BITTERLY FOR THEM THAT THINK DEATH’S HONESTY WON’T FALL UPON ‘EM NATURALLY LIFE SOMETIMES MUST GET LONELY MY EYES COLLIDE HEAD ON WITH STUFFED GRAVEYARDS FALSE GOALS I SCUFF AT PETTINESS WHICH PLAYS SO ROUGH WALKED UPSIDE DOWN INSIDE HANDCUFFS KICK MY LEGS TO CRASH IT OFF SAY OKAY I’VE HADE ENOUGH WHAT ELSE CAN YOU SHOW ME AND IF MY THOUGHT DREAMS CAN BE SEEN THEYD PROBABLY PUT MY HEAD IN A GUILLOTINE
BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IT’S LIFE AND LIFE ONLY
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Hi so i had this idea for a while. When your free can you do like a Jenna ortega x Male Reader where the reader is basically Michael Jackson?
Oh..The Wicked Games We Play
This got so much Darker than I wanted it to be, so I just sort of ran with it lmao. I was listening to Wicked Games by The Weeknd and it just sort of flows out. And I consider The Weeknd definitely on Par with MJ in this current music Landscape, so I’ll try and go for that.
Fame, Fortune, the lifestyle normal people dream for, is really a nightmare you eventually never wake up from. That was the case with you. The lavish cars, men and women screaming your name as you stood before them, like a god amongst men. You truly felt, untouchable. That’s how all those wiry fame feel, that they’re invincible, that human emotions don’t matter to them now, nothing matters. The stage was set for another concert, you had a final performance before the end of the tour, and like the scary perfectionist you are, you put 200% effort into all of it. Rehearsals, vocal performances, workouts, everything to push the human body to its limits. There was only one person that got inbetween all of this.
Jenna.
It wasn’t on purpose of course, it wasn’t her fault her natural beauty, amazingly perfekt personality and allure caught your eye so often, the way she watched so intently during your rehearsals, the concern she would show when you began to slow down, lose balance, look a bit, disheveled from lack of sleep. She loved you, but she was slowly starting to resent what you became and she hoped this tour will be the last for a while, with her workings schedule and the performances you put on on a weekly basis, it’s amazing you two have time for anything. While the premiere Wednesday was stellar, you unfortunately couldn’t make it due to being halfway across the country, but you watched, called, texted and constantly showed your support, regardless of presence or not.
But one thing, one small occurrence showed you an unfortunate side of popularity, watching the cameras flash of Jenna, and Percy, who played Xavier, the way he seemed so, calm around her, his natural they seemed together. While it irked you, you couldn’t be angry at costars being well, Co-Stars. Ready to put the subject down, you watched as his hand wrapped around her shoulder, her smile, his, and that gnawing feeling sank back into your heart, jealousy. And In that fit, you extend the tour another two weeks, and pushed yourself to take the world over, she’ll have to notice you then.
You stopped responding to her text so much, simple one worded answers, short calls, barely getting any sleep, work, work, work. Focus, confidence in yourself, that’s what you needed. And it all came to a final push during the last night of the tour, backstage you sat down in the room, trying to think straight as the sleep deprivation and exhaustion took its tole, looking in the mirror you saw the bags under your eyes, the weary look in them, and in the reflection of the mirror, you watched the door open, and Jenna was there, she looked worried, having to fly all the way out here, just for this.
“(Y/n).” She said in a slightly upset tone, she folded her arms as you kept staring at the mirror.
“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” She asks.
“I have—“ you attempt to reply, but she isn’t buying your obvious bullshit.
“Stop lying, you aren’t like this, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” She approaches your chair, and your anger slowly began to rise up, letting it boil.
“Why? Why don’t you just go talk to Percy, you two seem close.” You say, not out of Hate, but misguided feelings, She stood in her tracks and was in disbelief.
“That’s what this is about?” she said, and you stood up to turn around.
“What else would it be? Jenna I can barely get to hold you sometimes and he gets to put his fucking arm around you?”
“That’s, I don’t know why he did that, but you know we just work together. You know that’s true, why are you so angry?”
“You always told me that we try to keep it friendly with everyone we work with so shit like this doesn’t happen and the media doesn’t run with it!”
“What am I supposed to do? Shove him away? What do you want from me? You’re mad because I didn’t scream at him?!”
“Because I—“ you start, but stop and shake your head, you saw the hurt in her eyes, and it didn’t make you feel better as you thought it would.
“I love you… but I can’t be around you right now.” You said, and Jenna took a deep breath walked back to the door, you wanted to say something, anything, but nothing you said would fix this. The performance was less than ten minutes and you had all of this baggage, you took the rest to try and sort it all out, and began the performance. Darkness enveloped the stage, and red lights, like a highway began to go along the stage and one appeared before you in the middle, the crowd exploded with cheers and love, but it all felt so.. hallow. Because the one person you wanted there left in a fit of rage because of you, but as the veterans of music would tell you, the show must go on. The music bellows and you step out under the red in the classic Red Wine suit bladed, black slacks and button up shirt and gloves, with your eyes hidden behind the glasses, your voice took over the world at that moment, as Blinding Lights roared though the stadium.
“I've been tryna call, I've been on my own for long enough, Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe
“I'm going through withdrawals / You don't even have to do too much / You can turn me on with just a touch, baby!~
“I look around and / Sin City's cold and empty (oh!) / No one's around to judge me (oh!) I can't see clearly when you're gone!
“I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights / No, I can't sleep until I feel your touch / I said, ooh, I'm drowning in the night / Oh, when I'm like this, you're the one I trust
(Hey!, hey!, hey!)
Song after song, Wicked Games, StarBoy, Earned It, the crowd drinking in the roar of your voice, the sound, as the music downs out and it’s all black, you pull out your phone and make a single text to the DJ.
“Change of Plans, Die for you.” He says, and as the crowd prepares for the final song, you walk up to the mic stand and grab it, and nod. Your eyes look desperately out to the crowd, as if to yell for him but, no one can hear, and you look forward, only hoping she’s watching from somewhere.
“This is for you Jenna. Love you and, I’m sorry.” You utter in the mic, missions of “Awws” echo but you ignore them and continue as the song begins.
“I'm findin' ways to articulate the feelin' I'm goin' through, I just can't say I don't love you..
'Cause I love you, yeah
“It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold But tonight, I'm gon' let you know
Let me tell the truth Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah!~
“You know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes!You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry, You're scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night, I'm scared that I'll miss you, happens every time, I don't want this feelin', I can't afford love I try to find a reason to pull us apart
It ain't workin', 'cause you're perfect, and I know that you're worth it!
I can't walk away, oh!!~
Even though we're goin' through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you! Baby, I would die for you, yeah!~
“The distance and the time between us It'll never change my mind 'Cause baby, I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah!~
“I'm findin' ways to manipulate the feelin' you're goin' through, But, baby girl, I'm not blamin' you Just don't blame me, too, yeah 'Cause I can't take this pain forever And you won't find no one that's better 'Cause I'm right for you, babe I think I'm right for you, babe!~
“You know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry It ain't workin', 'cause you're perfect, and I know that you're worth it! I can't walk away, oh!
“Even though we're goin' through it!And it makes you feel alone, Just know that I would die for you! Baby, I would die for you, yeah!~”
“The distance and the time between us It'll never change my mind ‘Cause baby, I would die for you, uh Baby, I would die for you, yeah
“I would die for you, I would lie for you, Keep it real with you, I would kill for you, My baby
I'm just sayin', yeah, I would die for you, I would lie for you, Keep it real with you, I would kill for you, My baby
“Na-na-na, na-na-na, na-na, ooooooooh~”
“Even though we're goin' through it!And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah
“The distance and the time between us It'll never change my mind 'Cause baby, I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah…”
As the music drowns out, after spending so much energy, your legs began to gave out, the heat of the lights, the deafening crowd, it all was too much for your body, and you toppled down, the last thing you saw before the darkness were the red lights flashing black.
Your eyes began to flutter awake, resting on something, soft and warm, but it slowly began to return to focus as you saw Jenna, she looks down at you. You were backstage, resting on her legs on the couch.
“You’re a fucking idiot you know that?” She said, you opened your mouth to speak.
“Shut up, you haven’t eaten, slept? This is why I wanted you to stop, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Jenna—“
“No, save your strength, I get you were upset and I’m sorry.”
“I’m.. sorry too..” you murmur, and she kept that cute angry pout that she did on Wednesday, but it slowly crumbled down as she placed her hand on your chest. Feeling your heartbeat.
“Let’s just… take the month off, Wednesday stopped production and season two is a while away, and I think you’re doing touring.. right?”
“Well—“
“That was a rhetorical question.” She replied, annoyed, you take her advice and just go along with her, you raised your hand and placed it on hers, holding it. All that fake and fortune means nothing without the love of your life, her hand near your heart.
I Suppose fame and fortune have their Wicked Games to play on those who chads it.
#netflix#male reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x male reader#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega x y/n
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Obey me! but with the brothers having had always been demons, formed in kid/baby-form as manifestations of the seven deadly sins. Lucifer was raised as the right hand man of Diavolo, appointed the brother of Mammon, then Levi, then Asmo etc. etc.
A version where they are more depraved and dark than they otherwise would've been 'cause they were essentially raised in the outermost layer of hell (think VERY questionable morals, moves like uncanny valley characters, where Satan tears and rips beings apart in his fits of rage, they don't understand MC's sense of right and wrong). I wonder how Lucifer and his brother's dynamics would have been with each other, with Diavolo and Barbs growing up. Would Belphie still have hated Diavolo for his absolute authority? Would baby satan still have formed as a manifestation of Lucifer's wrath, again adding to his rage due to his circumstances?
Lilith based on mythology was described as the 'queen of demons'. If the story was somewhat compliant to that, imagine she fell into the Devildom after the whole 'fall-in-love-with-human shtick' and Diavolo fell in love/took pity on her, which the brothers didn't respect or understand at the time (why feel bad for someone who fell in love with a puny mortal?). The bitter parallels it would draw when they fall in love with MC years down the line.
Imagine that instead of just reincarnating her soul as a human, Dia REPLACED the soul of a human infant with hers (again, being very morally dubious). Maybe he saw it as an interesting experiment of sorts, to see if it would have any effect her human off-springs. He purposely kept an eye on her descendants (hence, mc being brought into the DD). Cunning, manipulative and conspiring Diavolo (Soo-won type character) omgomg
I want the brothers to legitimately handle otherworldly, gory demonic entities (think of that monster from nocturne of nightmares), sort political Devildom affairs, kill/mess around with humans instead of just sitting around attending the demon-equivalent of highschool! They're eons old for crying out loud, why subject yourself to 1000's of years of the Academy??? If anything, their attendance at RAD should be a refresher course that happens for 5 - 10 years once or twice every century or so.
AKA Obey Me! but more Devildom-centric, where the characters got to actually deliver their role in Diavolo's government, where Diavolo had ulterior motives making the exchange program (perhaps to instigate an uprising, an all-out war to overthrow the demon king?). Where the other characters are actually fleshed out instead of just meaningless plot-devices (Barbatos with his powers, Monsolo, Lilith, and etc. all had so much potential)!
Sorry I wrote a lot, this is just everything I hoped OM! would be.
NO OMG I think about this sometimes too!! like I know why they didn't do it but still can't help but wish for more
demons are often depicted as everything but sweet and kind, which is what we see in the game. dia would not be this golden retriever type character (although I love that) he's supposed to be the next king, so he would be much more devious as for lack of a better word. god i wish they explored barb so much more. like why are we brushing over him like he's part of the wall?? he's so powerful it's insane. I'm glad solomon is getting more of a spotlight in nightbringer but I hope they use it to its full extent. i also wish they explored the general worldbuilding more and made it feel more real, like there's stuff outside the relationships mc has with the named characters
i absolutely love the lilith queen of demons thing, like it makes sense as to why it was mc in specific. of course they would bring back someone that important to them over and over again
another thing that feels totally ignored is that it's hell!! most people there are there for a reason! while personally don't know where the line should be drawn for what counts as being a sinner or not, for a fact i know that mc would 100% be meeting murders down there, like actually terrible people.
you put this entire thing so wonderfully so i hope you don't mind if I incorporate aspects of this into my obey me as horror piece! like don't get me wrong I love my silly little demons but realistically they would be anything but silly lol
#obey me#obey me!#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me levi#obey me belphie#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#UGH OBEY ME HORROR#love this anon#hope it hasn't been too long since this was sent in and that this anon is still around!!!!#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me mc
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Steddie week. Day 3: First kiss. 1.4k words. Ao3 link.
@steddie-week
~
Yeah, they’re absolutely, 100 percent, morons. Like, who even is this stupid? Steve thinks that ever since facing off an evil wizard with interdimensional powers, they do not have a sense of preservation or survival when it comes to actual normal human beings.
They just wanted to have dinner! Honestly Eddie hasn’t had much trouble with people, the story that was put out made him look like a hero (which Steve is glad for, because he is) and the town believed it like they’ve believed everything since 1983.
But these fucking jocks will not leave Eddie alone. Steve is tired of this, he can’t even imagine the exhaustion that Eddie feels.
When they approached them Steve knew that it was going to be a little bit harder to get out of than the other times. There were 5 of them, and just Steve and Eddie. When it’s just one or two, Steve can usually just scare them off with a glare and a name drop.
And Eddie.
He’s an idiot.
An idiot!
Since the whole thing he pulled in the upside down, they’ve had talks. About how he’s not a coward. He’s brave and he doesn’t need to prove anything. Sometimes running is okay. Sometimes running is the only option.
But he still has trouble believing it sometimes.
Steve is patient and understanding. Robin has said many times how people have a process.
He just wishes Eddie didn’t have to live his process right at moments like these!
He loves Eddie (wait, hold on, what?), but he can be somewhat impulsive and unpredictable. Steve was hoping that while he was defusing and excusing themselves, Eddie would follow his lead. Well, wrong.
He doesn’t even know what happened! One moment he was talking and the next they’re running away from some soda splashed jocks. Oh come on, Eddie.
Robin sometimes jokes about him and Eddie being the kids’ co-parents. The kids find it funny, for some reason. Dustin calls them both dad and Mike likes to call Steve mom as if that would bother him.
But right now, Eddie doesn’t feel like a co-parent as much as he feels like another goddamn kid. Always the babysitter.
So now, they’re running from 5 guys who are pissed. And sticky.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” Steve is almost hysterical.
“I panicked! They’re so many!” Eddie is panting, and he doesn’t know how much more he’s gonna be able to keep running.
“So throwing drinks at them was your solution?!” Steve is talking a big game, but in an alternative universe, he’s probably the one who threw the drinks.
“Better than what you were doing!” Eddie argues.
“I was doing just fine!” He was! Steve was gonna get them out of there. Unscathed. He had to. That’s what he’s for.
“Words weren’t gonna stop ‘em.” True, but at least they could’ve walked out or ran, before they were pissed.
“Well I hardly see anything that could stop them now!” They take a turn so they have some time to think of something while the jocks catch up. But like Steve said there’s nothing that can help them here.
There’s some stores. And an alley in the middle of a clothing and a pet store. Eddie grabs his hand and guides them towards the clothing store. “Come on, follow my lead.”
There’s some mannequins in front of the store, Eddie takes a long dark coat off the mannequin. “What are you doing?” Steve asks.
“Shh.” Eddie just shushes him. He shushes him! What is he on?
“Wha- don’t you shush me!” He whisper yells with not a very convincing anger in his voice.
“Stop asking questions and just do what I say!” Eddie requests. Which is kind of a lot to ask considering he’s the one who worsened the situation. “I got us into this and I’ll get us out.” Huh. Steve thinks that’s fair, but he’s still hesitant.
“But I don’t know what we’re doing.” Steve doesn’t like that.
“Me neither. But it’s better than nothing.” Steve thinks Eddie kinda lives by that philosophy. Does he have that one on that doctrine he came up with?
What’s the difference between philosophy and doctrine? Huh. Wait, no sidetracking. Steve, focus! You’re both in danger.
Eddie puts the coat on, it’s so long it covers most of his legs. He also grabs the beanie and jacket that were on the other mannequin and puts it on Steve. “What’s this even gonna do?”
“I told you to stop asking questions!” Eddie’s eyes look wild.
“Sorry.” Steve’s sure Eddie is scared right now, but he does a good job of hiding it.
Eddie takes his hand and they run to the alley. Who has a dead end. Shit. They hear the voices turning the corner. Fuck, they’re gonna come across the alley anytime now.
Eddie turns to him and backs him into a corner. “Kiss me.”
Well. Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He shakes his head. “What?”
Eddie turns his back on the entrance of the alley. It’s kinda dark and they’re all the way to the back. “Now! They’re coming!” Eddie demands.
Eddie doesn’t give him much time to answer or even come up with something to say. Suddenly there are lips pressed to his. Eddie swallows any sound of surprise he might’ve been about to make. Eddie’s hands are on his chest and Steve finds himself putting his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulling him closer, as if he’s acting on instinct. There’s footsteps, voices, they seem to stop in front of the entrance. Steve doesn’t exactly know what they’re doing because he’s closed his eyes. They mutter something, god knows what, and then they go on their way. Looking for them somewhere else.
However, they don’t stop kissing when they’re gone. In fact, Steve hugs Eddie’s waist now, pulling them chest to chest while Eddie’s hands move to his face. They pull apart just to catch a single breath before going back in. Huh, now they’re just making out. Steve can call it what it is. He doesn’t know what Eddie is doing with his tongue, but he’s not complaining at all.
“I- um.” Eddie tries to step back but his embrace is strong. “My long hair.”
“Your…?” Steve’s brain isn’t computing much right now.
“From their point of view, it-“ Eddie inhales deeply. “It probably looked like a girl and a guy kissing.” Oh. Oh, Steve is so stupid. “Plus this coat almost looks like a dress.”
“Yeah, no, that’s- you-“ God, can he not even form sentences anymore? “Good thinking.” If he could, Steve would facepalm right now.
“They’re gone now.” Eddie nods.
“They sure are.” Steve confirms. Doesn’t really know what else to do.
Eddie looks around, and then directly at his eyes. That’s intense. “You can let me go now.”
He can let him go now. Eddie’s hands have moved to his shoulders, probably not knowing where else to put them.
He could let him go, now. They could go back to their respective places. And move on like this was another normal day for them.
He could do that.
Or.
Or he could confront this. Confront this thing that’s been going on between them for, in Steve’s humble opinion, far too long. He was scared before. He still is, but it doesn’t feel like something he can’t conquer, now. So he makes the decision. He’s not running away from this anymore. Even if sometimes that’s all you can do, that’s not the case here. He could be doing so much more. They could be doing so much more.
“No.” Steve says. And it’s said with finality.
Eddie looks confused. “What? What do you mean?”
“I won’t let you go.” He shrugs. They’re still holding on to each other. “I like you too much for that.”
“What are you saying?”
“Exactly what you heard. I like you.” He leans in. He waits for Eddie to back off, show any type of discomfort or rejection on his face. But there’s nothing like that. “Can I kiss you again?”
A gasp comes out. Eddie nods. “Yes.” It’s whispered and if they weren’t so close he might’ve never heard it.
This one is more gentle. Slow and soft. Almost lazy, like they don’t need to rush because they know they’re gonna get to this again. And again.
“I like you too.” Eddie rests his forehead to his.
Steve smiles at him, and when Eddie smiles back he knows. He knows that he’s gonna fall so hard. He kinda already has.
#it’s still the 24th here folks#i am NOT late#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie x steve#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things 4#mer writes sometimes#ficlet#steddieweek2023#steddieweekprompts
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i just. sometimes i think back about devil may cry again. and. damn. like dante and vergil barely got to be actual children, vergil's obsession with power comes from his insecurity about being supposedly unable to save his mum and dante and. they were so young, they should've been able to play around as kids and enjoy their childhood. the fact that both of them just. lost their parents so quickly and had to find their ways in this godforsaken world alone.
it's so interesting to me how dante uses his taunts to like. lower his anxiety. he runs through fights making jokes because he's always scared. and i'd go as far as saying that on the other hand, vergil is just scared for his brother. the whole "im better than you" thing? it's always read (to me) as "i gotta make you strong enough but also i gotta unlock all my power so i can protect everything i love" but just gone too far. like he's taken it really to an extreme, obviously, but i do think it started out as genuine fear that he wasn't enough. these men for real just need therapy. all of them need therapy someone get the dmc gang THERAPY.
OH. AND ANOTHER THING. THAT FINAL FUCKING FIGHT IN DMC3 BETWEEN VERGIL AND DANTE. i like to think it's always been dante trying to bring vergil back from "POWER". like the "we are the sons of sparda" part is very much a "fucking wake up and look around you can do so much better" and vergil is so far gone that genuinely his response is "our souls are at opposites, brother. i need more power." which is such a personality defining statement from him. But the part that hurts most? When Vergil cuts Dante's hand on his way down to hell. He reaches out for his brother.
AND OOH. BEFORE I FORGET. lady saying to nero (not an exact quote bc i cannoooooot remember it) "you'll never be able to recover from killing your dad don't do it" isn't just a "no dont do it nero". DMC3. SHE'S SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE. she knows what it's like to be in neros place on dmc5, and. i just feel like sometimes we look over lady and her past. she went through so much too, like imagine being like 16/17 (?) and having your dad be like "yeah holup lemme go open the gate to hell come here daughter lemme k word you so i can open the gate to hell" and have to actually go out and stop him. and like i guess even with dante and vergil there's an element of "oh they're half demon they. kinda. expect this shit in their lives" LADY ISN'T. she's 100% human and has been through so much.
and like when that's put in perspective, it really makes me enjoy the games more. like, growing up playing the games it was all "wahoo haha pizza haha motivated haha gun-trick-sword-trick-gun-trick" and now it's all "man. more of my favourite characters are just. traumatised people who have really gone through the worst shit ever."
anyway. ro lore dumps about devil may cry again. maybe if i get time mid coursework i'll add more lmao we'll see 😔
But yeah. Sometimes even a Devil May Cry. Ouch.
#devil may cry#dmc dante#dmc vergil#i've been thinking about this for years#lore dump#can you tell im hyperfixating#ro has late night thoughts
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