#why did they speak it into existance?!?! why?!?!?
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what you want you cannot find. so you let someone else find it for you. (18+, dark!simon x curvy!fem!reader, arranged marriage)
you don't really know what you were thinking when you answered the ad. it is many things, maybe, why you chose to apply. why you were grateful to be chosen.
the loneliness, it aches. you cannot find yourself in anyone else, you cannot find the thing that should move you and hold you. you cannot find what it is that should ignite what is asleep, the thing nestled between your ribs that feels like it beats to a rhythm that you cannot hear.
the bitterness, too. there is something sour that you taste. there is acid under your tongue, something rotten between your teeth, and you wish for anything that you would stop tasting it because it reminds you of how alone you are, how alone you'll remain, the inevitable thing that you wish you weren't but that you unfortunately are.
it is the thing you cannot die for because there isn't anything to die for. you live, and you breathe, and you exist, but there isn't anything there. this is nothing that makes you want to gnaw on your own flesh, there is no life you would take in sake of another, there is no purpose to your existence except the hope that perhaps there is still time to have what you want more than anything.
but you don't know what you want. you don't know because everything that you thought you wanted, you do not want any longer. you never feel anything with other men. they are beneath you. they maim what they shouldn't. they complain about things that they can fix. they stare at a problem head-on, with the solution at their back, and they chase their tails. they do not know their right from their left. you hate them. but you want it. you want something. you want one of them, but you don't know which, so maybe if you don't choose, you will find what it is that you don't know you're looking for.
you're alone in the room. they gave you a bouquet of white roses. you hold them nervously between clammy palms. you wear a silk white dress that skims the floor, fabric falling soft over the curve of your waist and gentle along the swell of your cleavage. your hair is loose, and there is a short veil over your head, covering your face.
you stare at your handler. he's dressed in his military fatigues, tactical vest still strapped with the Union Jack across his chest. he has introduced himself as captain john price, and he is the one who arranged for your arrival. he is the one who told you to wear white, and he is the one who gave you the roses.
captain john price is rugged. captain john price is kind. and captain john price is not what you want. you are grateful that you are not yet disappointed with your match.
the door opens behind you. you straighten your posture that extra inch when you hear his heavy gait. there is a pause as the door shuts behind him, and you see his captain nod to a figure that you cannot see. his boots hit the floor low, and you swallow when the sunlight that comes through the window is blocked entirely by the size of him as he stands at your side.
the vows are short. you say your i do first, soft voice that hits his ears in a way that makes him nearly purr. when it is his turn to say i do, your eyes sparkle. he speaks in such a low voice, a Manchester accent that makes your toes curl in the white kitten heels that you wear. a drawl that you can feel in your chest, an accent that ticks a corner of your brain you did not know was there.
"you may kiss your bride."
you turn away from the captain. you tilt your head to look up at him, and you let out a soft breath when you realize the sheer breadth of this man.
he is barely a man. he must be something else. he is dressed all in black, and he wears all of his gear. his tactical vest is stocked well, magazines tucked into their pockets, a grenade dangling from one strap, a handgun tucked into its holster on his chest and around his thick thigh. his belt is heavy with more, knives in sheathes, devices in their places. even without all of the weight, you know the size of him won't shrink.
you cannot see his face. he covers it with a mask, one that resembles the front face of a skull. it is dirty. you aren't certain if it is blood or soot or dirt. maybe it is all of that and more. you cannot see his eyes through the veil either, but they are dark, and they are intense.
you keep your eyes fixed on his as he lifts your veil. the delicate fabric settles over your head, and you see him without obstruction.
there he is.
it is like seeing a man for the first time. it is like being in the presence of the dream you've always had and could never remember.
he tilts his head to the side, curious. he is seeing your face for the first time, too. soft eyes. glossy lips. the curve of your mouth. the untouched skin of your cheeks, the unmarred flesh that you wear. he follows the line of your throat to the peek of your tits dressed in silk. you are a present wrapped in luxury. hand delivered goods, of the finest quality.
his bride. his wife. something he will have forever. he does not know if he has ever been able to say that about anything else. he's never had anything except for his life. nothing except for himself has ever belonged to him, but even now, not even his life is his own, it belongs to someone far away, someone in an office somewhere, who moves the chess pieces of his world around, where he cannot do anything but follow.
you stand on your toes to get closer to him. he thinks for just a second you will ask him to remove his mask, but you don't. you cant your head, and you kiss him over the mask, sticky gloss leaving a light imprint on the fabric. you settle back onto your heels, and your breath hitches when one of his gloved hands comes to settle at the dip of your waist.
"she's all mine now, eh, cap'n?"
you blink, your eyes still on his. you don't move, and you don't say anything. you wonder, if you could see his face, if he would smile.
"all yours, simon."
you let him drag you closer, shuffling on your feet until your hips press against his. your back arches gently as he uses both hands, gripping you around the middle and feeling the soft flesh underneath your silk dress. he is a rabid dog, his next meal at his fingertips. she is his, and he wants to take her home. if his captain was not standing at his back, he knows he would take you on this very floor.
she is mine. she is mine. she is mine.
he has studied your picture. he has memorized your name. he has been waiting for you. he is too awkward to leave base. he is too quiet to attract birds, birds that matter, birds that sing. he is too ravenous to be anything but permanent, he isn't capable of the mundane, of casual. it is everything or nothing at all, and at the sound of permanence, he foamed at the mouth.
at the thought of something to keep, he was blinded. when beasts lose control, they call their keeper, and he had none. this change could be good. this change would do him well. when he ignores the order of a commanding officer, he will bend to yours, because he is bound, wrapped, tied to you with something invisible that weaves between his bones.
you do not know what you were before, but you know what you are now.
you follow after him. he turns to leave, and you let him lead. your heels click as you walk, and when it is hard for you to keep up, you reach for his hand. he grunts when you do, but he doesn't push you away. you hold wilting roses in one hand, and you clutch him in the other. recruits and privates stop to salute or step out of your way, and they stare when they see a trailing angel behind their lieutenant, a pretty girl in a pretty white dress with a veil fluttering against the breeze as you try and keep up with your husband's long strides.
the door he stops in front of is plain and unmarked. he fits a key into the lock, turning it and opening it, and he invites you over a threshold that no one else has ever stepped over. you stand on the other side, holding the roses to your chest. he turns when you don't follow him inside. you get a glimpse of him as a whole, the man that he is, big and menacing and taken. you wonder if he will wear his ring under his glove or if he will put it on the chain that holds his dog tags.
"is this where you live?" you ask. you stay on the other side, looking in, a little timid as you stand there.
he nods, silent. he crosses his arms over his chest, and you admire the bulge of them, the paint of skeleton bones along the fingers of his gloves. you look him up and down before smiling a little.
"is this where i will live, too?"
he shakes his head, a no.
"can't have a thing like y'here," he murmurs. "boys'll eat y'up."
you tilt your head to the side.
"i find that hard to believe," you quip. "do people often eat what's yours, lieutenant?"
he snarls, narrowing his eyes. "no one takes wot's mine."
"then what are you so afraid of?"
"that 'f y'r 'ere, i won't get any fuckin' work done."
you break out into a big smile, pearly white teeth flashing, and he clicks his tongue at your reaction. he reaches up and lifts his mask, pushing it up until it rests over his nose. his nose is crooked from being broken so many times. his face is scarred, as if someone took a blade and carved out the skin and muscle. a deep one stretches from somewhere under the mask to his lip, where it looks as if the skin was haphazardly stitched back together. another long jagged grey streak comes over the line of his cheek down his jaw, as if someone tried to peel his face off.
he grins. it's ugly and unsettling, as if he sees prey that he knows he will catch. your own smile does not fade. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you want to taste him. beast, bear, killing machine, the boogeyman, a ghost that haunts, you do not know exactly what he is, but you know, immediately, that he is what you have been searching for.
you do not know him. you do not love him yet, but you will. you are sure of this. you are sure that he is missing piece. he will fill the spaces that you have always felt hollow. he will scratch a place in your head that has always itched. there is something in his eyes, you're not exactly sure what it is, but you can't wait to discover it. you can't wait to explore, to indulge, to lick the salt of his skin and know that everything he is has been waiting for something like you.
you did not choose him, but he chose you, and now you see it clearly. you see this thing, and you know the truth of what's been hiding from you all your life. the curtain has been taken down. the veil is off. the walls are invisible.
"come 'ere," he says lowly. "won't ask so nicely next time."
you drop the flowers onto the floor, crossing the doorway. you kick the door shut, hearing it click, and he comes closer, until you can feel his breath fanning your nose.
"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"
he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.
"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."
"w-what...what?"
"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."
your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.
"is it really that easy, simon?" you ask. his gloved hands slip over your throat, sliding low and skimming the silk of your dress before he cups both sides of your ass and squeezes, drawing you closer until you are uncomfortably pressed up against him. his gear digs into your softness, sharp edges cutting into you, but you ignore it as he begins to draw up the skirt of your dress. "is it really that easy to say you'll do all of that for me? isn't it...it's wrong, isn't it? to do those things for me?"
he laughs. humorless, condescending. as if that is the stupidest thing you could have ever said.
"'s olright, swee'eart. gonna take all those ideas outta y'r pretty lil' head."
you relax when you feel his gloved hand under the hem of your white lace panties. your eyes shut, and you reach forward and grip his vest for stability.
"christ..." he hisses. "y'r soaked..."
you are. you have been since you first laid eyes on him, on everything he is. you know why you are here, and he knows why he is here, and that is because there were two people so desperate to find one another, that they let someone else choose. the gods, fate, whatever they want to be called.
matched by design, together by choice.
you lean forward and kiss beside his lips, and you whine when his big fingers slide between your folds, soft on your clit before he fits two fingers inside of you. his gloves are warm, and you wet them easily.
"wot a good girl," he breathes. "knew y'were the right one."
"y-you did?"
"could see it in y'r eyes, dove. could see wot y'needed. could see it plain as fuckin' day. dyin' inside, just like me, aye?"
you shake your head.
"n-not anymore...not anymore..." you gasp, and he tsks as he steps backward, the weight of him heavy as he takes a seat on his perfectly made bed, bringing you with him. you fall into his lap, unafraid to because you know someone of his size can carry you easily, and he hums as you spread your thighs apart. you straddle him, pressed up against the gun holstered to his chest, and you moan softly against his scarred face as he fucks you open with three unforgiving fingers.
"not anymore," he echos, baring his teeth as he pumps his hand. the squelch of it is filthy, but it isn't enough. he wants you to soak his arm, his thighs, his bed, let the slick of you stain him from the outside in. "not anymore. not as my wife."
you scramble. you rip the veil out of your hair, untie the corset of your dress. there's a naked angel in his lap, perky tits and soft figure, giving way to the gorgeous place you keep hidden by white, wet lace. the place that is his, the place that belongs to him, a pretty pussy that will keep him satiated until he breathes no longer.
after he tears apart his enemy, he will have you. after he tastes the blood he desires to see run, he will have you. the adrenaline, the fire, the shout of every order and the sound of their cries, it won't exist anymore in this place, he knows it.
"y'll never want for anythin'," he mutters. "y'll never be lonely. always get wot y'want...wot y'need...wot y'deserve..."
you reach up and cup his cheeks gently, pressing your mouth to his as you ride his fingers eagerly. you want him, you want this, you want all of it, even if it isn't what's right. but something brought you here, right into his arms, and this is what you deserve.
he's not even human, you don't think. he must be something else. with how good he makes you feel, with the sheer precision that he rocks his fingers into you, the way he smiles, he must be made of only something synthetic, something not organic.
you feel so small underneath him. he tosses you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow gently. you giggle, and his grin widens. he has a warm pink tongue, and it's between his teeth, and you giggle again when he moves his head from side to side, staring down at you. he's studying you. you assume he has seen photos of you, but this is his first time seeing his bride for all that she is. soft, pretty, unscathed by war. at least on the outside--but on the inside, you are not as you seem.
there's a parasite in you. something that slithers behind your eyes and settles in that corner of your brain that only he can touch. he knows that feeling well. he feels it every time he is in the field, and he feels it now, with you. he chases this tick when he works. it knocks his senses just right, makes him feel good and big, like the reaper that he really is. he can be this with a rifle in his hand, and he can be this without it, with the weight of his wife in his hands.
you smile, biting your lip, and you spread your legs for him. his eyes fall between your thighs, and he chuckles. he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, the one that smells like you, and you watch as he slips it inside, sucking on it for a moment before he uses his teeth to take both gloves off.
he bends, still in all his military glory, and he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up the seam of your cunt, using one thumb to pull the puffy lip apart and suckle on your clit for just a moment.
you gasp, arching your back, and he stands to his full height again, laughing.
"oh, y'taste sweet," he purrs. "y'taste good. hard t'believe i'll have this cunny for m'whole fuckin' life."
"believe it, baby," you coo, and he sighs. he nods his head, reaching low, gripping himself through his cargo pants and squeezing his cock. you follow his movements, watching him pay special attention to the tip of him, running his finger over where you guess the slit is as he watches you squirm. "why are you so far away, simon? don't you want me?"
he laughs again, smiling wide, and he nods.
"course i want ya, swee'eart. who wouldn't want ya, huh? who wouldn't want this?"
you meet his eyes. the question is a sound one, but it never mattered that you were wanted, what mattered is that you never wanted. not really. not until now.
you watch him as he reaches for his zipper. he undoes it easily, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them low. they won't go very low, thanks to the holsters around his thighs, but it's enough that you watch his cock stand at attention, the red tip of him leaking down the sides, making the bulging vein on the underside of him shine.
you whine a little, and he growls happily, watching as you cup the swell of your tits and squeeze them in anticipation. perfect, perfect, perfect girl, practically a mail-order bride that checks every single fucking box.
he grips you by the thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. you whimper when he slides the tip through your folds, letting it catch at the entrance before smirking down at you.
"'s big," you hiccup, and he tsks, shaking his head.
"y'can take it, swee'eart," he murmurs. "y'r a riley now, luvvie. y'know what tha' means?" you shake your head, your eyes a little watery, and he smooths a hand up your sternum, gripping you around the throat gently. "gonna find out...gonna find out how well a riley takes wot they're given."
"simon--"
"'s alright, luv, we'll start nice, yeah?" he breathes. you grip onto his forearms when he feeds you his cock, slowly, and your back bows at a sharp angle as you squeeze him for everything he is. "fuckin' hell...yeah, just the tip, yeah? oh, good girl..."
good girl, yeah...i'm a good girl--
you cry out, digging your nails into him when he mutters fuck it and bottoms out. his palm flattens just under your belly button, a choked groan leaving him as he presses down, a rush of something fucking glorious running down his spine. it's a high--he's so fucking high, as if he is popping fucking pills.
"feel me here, yeah?" he drags his hips back, smoothing a hand further up your stomach until he paws one of your tits, squeezing it firmly. you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, fisting the fabric of his mask at the base of his neck. you feel him everywhere, you feel him in your chest, running down your spine, you feel him in your mouth and in your head, and it feels so good, it feels so so so so good.
"yes--yes!" you gasp. fuck, he's huge, he's putting a shadow over you. you're naked, bare underneath him, and his gear rocks with every thrust, and it's filthy because you wonder if he worked, you wonder if he didn't even change before he went to marry his perfectly-picked bride, you wonder if he got off the tarmac not even an hour after killing his target to go and take what is his.
how long ago was it that he last fired his weapon? the gun on his chest, did he use it before he saw you?
i bet he did. i bet he used it. i bet he smoked the cigarette that i smell on him, and i bet he came here, and then he married me, and now he's all mine, and he's fucking me six ways to fucking sunday--
you think you're drooling. your lips are wet, and with every smack of his hips against yours, you feel a little more trickle down the side of your face. you're moaning, gripping his neck, pulling him further down on top of you. you want him all around you, you want him inside, you want him to come every day wearing this terrifying fucking uniform and to fuck you so stupid, you forget everything except for the name he has given you.
you want to know nothing except for his name. simon. riley. simon. riley.
you want to know nothing except for what you are. his wife. his wife. his wife.
it's so hard to remember to breathe. his hands grip you tight around the hips, and he's losing momentum, hissing, letting out choked groans as he brands the shape of his cock into you. he never wants you to forget what he feels like--he never wants you to know anything except for him, for the rest of your life.
"simon--" you whine, and he smirks, reaching up to hold your face in one big hand, keeping you still as you chase the grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit. "simon--!"
"tha'sit, luvvie...yeah..." he nods, "look at me--look at me," he leans down, a big weight over you, suffocating you, "good girl, yeah..." he clicks his tongue, "cum f'me, swee'eart. cum f'y'r husband, yeah?"
you lean up, chasing after him, gripping onto the sides of his face as you kiss him hard. it is the first time you really kiss him. slotting your mouth over his, slipping your tongue into his mouth, the sting of your wedding ring cooling his warm face as you taste him for the very first time.
it is gone. the bitterness that you always taste, the acid and the sourness and everything that always is so unpleasant under your tongue, it is gone when you have him. he takes it out of your mouth completely, and you chase after this just as you chase after the harsh grind of your clit against his pelvis.
he is carrying you. you're lifting, coming over some kind of sweet, exhilarating euphoria, and you're blinded by it, by the feeling, by him. you want more, more, you want it all, and he said you could have anything you want, that you'll never need anything ever again, he said, he said, he said--!
he laughs when you come. he swallows your moans, hisses when you soak his pants. you are the prettiest thing he could ever hope for, the personification of the things he does not deserve and could never have, and it is selfish that he has taken you this way, but he does not fucking care.
the things we cannot have are the sweetest, the most desirable. and simon is nothing if he isn't a thief.
he is nothing if he doesn't just take what he wants. he likes to think that perhaps he adopts the "ask for forgiveness, and not for permission" philosophy, but he does not ask for forgiveness. and he has never asked for permission.
"please--simon--" you gasp, looking up at him. your eyes are wet, and a few tears wet his hand around your face. "please--inside me, please..."
"'s olright, luv--" he grunts, pumping faster, his pretty little wife just begging for him, for more, and how could he say no to that? "easy, baby...i'll give it t'ya, don't worry, fuck--" he hisses, "lieutenant's wife gets woteva she wants..."
"please--inside--" you choke. "simon, inside, i-i want it inside--"
fuck, that is all he needed. he nestles deep, pressing his hips to yours, and you kiss him once more when you go blind again. a second high, when he stuffs you full. just as you should be. just as you always should be.
"yeah, fuck--" he breathes. "tha' wot y'wanted, yeah? nice and full, good girl..." he licks his lips, standing up straight, and just when you think he is pulling out, he yanks you back towards him, cum leaking down your thighs as you cry out from being so sensitive.
"simon!" you gasp, giggling, and he grins, patting your ass gently before pulling out. you let your knees fall onto the cot, swallowing hard as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. he brings the mask back down, and you watch as he slips his gloves back on. "hmm..."
he tilts his head to the side, sighing as he watches you settle there. something warm settles in his stomach, something satisfied.
"like havin' y'in my bed," he says lowly. "look nice there."
you smile, and he holds out one hand, beckoning you to sit up. you do, slowly, a little shaky as you try and compose yourself, and he leans down and kisses you through the mask. you close your eyes, humming, leaning into his touch.
"so i can stay?" you ask, and he chuckles.
"mmm...y'r so cute, luvvie..." he rumbles. "a doll, yeah? can't say no to ya."
you look down at the ring on your finger, a solid gold band complete with a precious diamond. you will have to get used to this--you are his wife, you can ask things of him, and you don't think he'll say no.
you look up at him when he tosses something at you. an army green shirt of his, and you slip it on, letting the fabric fall, and you lay back down in his cot as he moves around his room. you lay in comfortable silence, watching as the thing that calls himself your husband looks for files on his desk, adjusts the gun strapped to his thigh, shuffles his boots across the linoleum. you are mesmerized by what he is, and you haven't known him even a day.
you don't believe this is your vision askew. the honeymoon phase. the sugary sweet moments in time at the beginning where nothing is wrong, where all is well. simon riley is a practical man. he does not lie. he does not do things he does not want to do, and he does not say things he does not want to say. he is not in the business of comfort and ease, that much is clear to you.
simon riley is practical and resourceful. you think maybe he counts his words. that he doesn't say more than he has to. waste his energy on things that don't require it.
his wife. i'm his wife. his wife.
"why..." you swallow. "why...why did you pick me?"
he pauses as he stands in front of a locker. when he opens it, you see shelves of personal weapons stashed away, handguns of different sizes and shapes, knives of differing steel, toys that with a small push of a finger could destroy whatever building they went off inside. you don't flinch, don't blink, don't feel fear. you don't know why, but you just don't. you don't think it's possible.
he doesn't look at you as he surveys what lines the walls of it.
"just knew y'were the one f'me, swee'eart," he mutters. he shuts the locker, and the lock clicks. he comes closer, twirling a small blade between his fingers, and you don't cower away when he flicks it towards you, holding your chin up with the sharp tip of it. he hums appreciatively at this. "in all honesty, had no idea really until i saw ya, 'f you'd be mine."
he bends down, leans close, and you follow the curve of the blade with your head, keeping your eyes on his. there is no timidness in your gaze, and for that, he beams under the mask. perfection in one woman.
"and what would you have done if i wasn't the one?"
he shrugs.
"would've killed ya, luv."
"just like that?"
"just like tha'."
the tip of his blade drags, sliding up the length of your throat, along the line of your jaw. your lips part as he traces your mouth with it, and you tilt your head to the side as you trace the edge of it with your tongue. he leans forward more, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can see where the eye-black around his eyes fades into his pale skin under the balaclava. you see yourself in those eyes. the you that you have been waiting for. the you that you have missed for your entire life. the you that has been hiding, too scared to come out, too afraid of what might be said if someone saw the real you.
she had not been hiding. just lying dormant, in someone else, waiting for you to come home.
you smile, big, and simon presses his mouth to yours again through the mask, kissing you there, growling from deep in his chest, a purr that only emanates the contentment and the relief he feels because he has found that thing to live for. it is so easy to die. it is so easy to give oneself for what they believe. it is not hard to give the best of yourself away, he knows that.
what he has never been able to do is find something that will keep him alive. he has only ever lived because he found dying pathetic. he found it cowardly. but the alternative had been just as unforgiving, just as unfulfilling. but not this. not you.
you will make it difficult to die. you will make death a challenge. and when he eyes that smile, this one that you give only to him, he is happy to be given this new objective.
"but don't worry y'r pretty head about all tha', luv."
you give him those eyes, and he drinks it all in, all that you are. finally, finally, finally--
"until death do we part, yeah?"
#this got AWAY FROM ME#pleaseeeeeeeeee i swear idk where this CAME FROM#take away the computer#TAKE IT#take it FROM ME#what is wrong with me#seriously lmao#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#dark!simon#simon thoughts
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sweet girl
Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader
Summary: You and Steve are held captive in a bunker under Starcourt, forced to admit secrets and expose yourselves to one another to stay alive.
WC: 6k+
CW/Tags: enemies to lovers, fuck or die trope, dub/non-con (depends on how u view it), language, pet names, somno, toys, oral (f receiving), PiV (unprotected) rough sex, brief anal play, dacryphilia, spit play, cum play, degradation, humiliation, etc.
A/N: okay. fair warning. this is probably one of the dumbest things i wrote back in the height of covid’s initial quarantine (because being stuck inside for too long did a number on us all) but it exists, and i got tired of seeing it in my drafts, so hopefully some of y’all like it too lmao
Steve can’t remember how he got here.
There’s an ache, constant but distant, stretched across the features of his face, spreading across his torso and fading into the rest of his body, but he can barely feel it. Only if he focuses hard enough.
Right now, Steve would rather focus on you, instead.
You, gliding your wet core against his thigh as he tenses up his muscles every now and then, smirking at the whines you squeak out when he does. You, gripping onto Steve’s shoulders tightly, fingers digging into his skin while he just sits back and watches. You, practically glowing from the sheen of sweat across your features, sealing in the blush that’s crept across your cheeks long ago.
Steve’s definitely more interested in you right now.
His eyes rake over your body as your breasts bounce while grinding against his thigh. He drinks in the way your lips part and eyes roll back while the slick from your cunt drips down his leg.
All Steve wants right now is to touch you, but he can’t. His arms are stuck to his sides and he can’t figure out why. He wants to run his hands across your soft skin, wants to play with your tits and suck on them, wants to make you moan more and more with every teasing move… and he can’t.
A flash of the ache, sharper, closer now, blurs his vision. He winces, trying to focus back on you, back on how good you look coming undone on his thigh, but again, he can’t.
A sob ripples through you, breaking the string of moans, and Steve’s brows furrow at the noise. He goes to speak, to ask if you’re alright, but his mouth won’t open. It feels too… too heavy to open. A wave of fatigue washes over him, slowly making the rest of his body feel heavy, too.
Slowly, your whimpers transform from ones of need to ones of despair. The slight change in tone alarms Steve, and the vision of you in front of him begins to fade in and out.
He tries moving his arms, but they don’t budge. He attempts speaking again, and still, his mouth won’t open, but a closed mouth groan erupts from his chest the harder he tries.
The harder he tries, though, the more intense the pain grows for Steve. It spreads like lightning within his head, nearly blinding him.
Another sob slips past your lips, but this one teeters on the line of sounding desperate for help, or desperate for… something else.
“Steve…”
Voice still stuck in his throat, he tries his hardest still to say something, anything. A raspy groan finally pushes past his lips.
“Steve? God, I’m—“ You whimper, catching Steve’s attention as his vision continues to blur and fade out, his surroundings growing dark. “— I’m so sorry.”
The pain envelops him now, gripping Steve in a grim reminder of the reality he faced earlier, all rushing back to him so quickly.
The secret Russian base under Starcourt. Getting separated from the group as you and Steve held off the guards from chasing your friends. The guards locking you and Steve away in separate rooms. The… the screams that echoed down the hall from your room to his, and the way he threatened the guards in front of him that if they ever laid a finger on you, they’d be dead.
They responded with a couple of sucker punches, one good hook to the eye, along with roughing up the rest of Steve. That’s all he could remember before it all grew dark.
When Steve woke up, it seemed too good to be true. You’d never fuck around with him beyond his dreams. No, the two of you hated each other in reality. The summer was spent trying not to kill each other while working in the same mall. Empty threats and death glares were common whenever the two of you crossed paths.
What you didn’t know was how much Steve actually liked you. A crush he tried pushing aside that only grew by the days that passed by, turning into nights he spent waking up covered in sweat and his own arousal.
It was a dream, the good part, at least. As Steve begins to come to, he remembers everything.
So… why can he still hear your whines and whimpers? Feel the movements of you rocking your hips against his thigh?
“Steve, If you wake up… do- don’t look, okay?” You whimper as a sigh shudders through you. Curiosity tugged Steve further awake, though.
Another sigh echoes around him, and he wants to open his eyes despite your warning, but one of his eyes is swollen shut. Still, he pushes himself to open the good eye, the dim lighting of the room barely helping him adjust to his surroundings.
Steve notices the nearly empty room, first. The giant mirror takes up the one wall across from him, and in the dim lights, he squints when he notices movement above him. He first sees the blood covering him, his face swollen in agonizing pain. His gaze falls to the chair he’s in, slowly noticing restraints holding him tight to the back of the chair. Panic floods through him as his vision grows steadier, finally adjusting to the shitty lighting.
A figure is straddling him, moving against him, but he can’t feel them. Not fully. Only a second of questioning lasts before a moan tumbles from your lips, realization hitting him like a truck—
Steve spins his head back to the front, eyes falling on you while his jaw hits the floor. His heart nearly beats out of his chest as he notices you’re fully naked, skin prickling with shame and a sheen of sweat covering your body.
Steve’s eyes fall to his leg, the one you’re riding, just like in his dream. Only, he’s still in his Scoops uniform, with some kind of device strapped to his leg. One you’re furiously rubbing and bouncing against: a strap on, secured to his thigh.
You’re looking away, tears pricking at your eyes; you know how wrong this is, but you can’t silence the pleasure building within you. Curiosity tempting you, your gaze flicks back to Steve, only to see him watching you in disbelief, swollen lips parted as he began matching your panting with his own.
“Steve— I- I can explain—“
A sharp click and whiny feedback echo through the room, startling the both of you before a voice with a Russian accent follows. “I see your friend is awake, now it’s time to play.”
Steve can’t take his eyes off of you, wondering if this was what started his dream, wondering how the fuck the two of you got into a situation like this.
He watches as you shake your head urgently, clamping your eyes shut.
“I- I can’t,” You blurt out, hips slowing down. “I won’t!”
“You don’t want us to finish the job.” The voice counters. “Why did you stop? You know what will happen to you both if you stop.”
Tears slip down your face as you open your eyes, daring to look at Steve. He gives a look, almost silently pleading with you to listen to the guards.
“Whatever you have to do,” Steve whispers, hoping it’s quiet enough not to be picked up on whatever communication system they have in the room. “Do it.”
“Steve, I- I’m so sorry— ”
The voice cuts back in, booming against the walls, “NOW!”
“I want us to be safe,” Steve whispers, gulping before he bounces his leg gently, slightly thrusting the toy up into you. You squeak out reluctantly, but it did feel good, especially with Steve’s attention on you. “I’m here, it’s okay.”
It’s not okay, though. Steve is still fighting off the exhaustion of unconsciousness, still trying to get a grip on the reality before him, but is coming up short with rationalizing in any other way that doesn’t have a terrible outcome for the both of you.
You take a deep breath before rolling your hips again, your leg between Steve’s thighs softly brushing against his bulge, quickly growing hard. You glance at him, eyes narrowing.
“You like this, don’t you?” You breathe, slowly lifting your hips up on the dildo— a difficult feat with your hands bound behind your back— before gently bringing yourself back down. A groan escapes your lips as the toy reaches deep inside you.
Steve scrambles to say something, at a loss for words, before feeling your own slick drip down the dildo and onto his leg. He glances down at the mess you’re making before glancing back at you.
“You’re one to talk, sweetheart,” Steve bites back, causing your cheeks to flush a shade red deeper. “Look at- at this… mess you’re making on me.”
You whine and throw your head back, grinding your hips down as you take the entire toy within you while your clit brushes against his leg ever so gently.
“I’m supposed to be— ” A moan slips out, stealing your sentence. “I- I have to make you feel humiliated, Harrington.”
The grave situation the two of you are in is slowly falling away, when all Steve can see is you. He smirks, though it blooms pain across his face, but he powers through it.
“That so?”
“They… god… they want me to kiss you and I- I can’t-“
“Are you afraid it’ll hurt me?” Steve wonders, and you shake your head as you try rolling your eyes, but they roll back into your head as he stiffens his leg again, thrusting the toy into you again.
“I- I don’t give a shit about th- that, Harrington. That’s what they want.” You whine, glancing over at the mirror. The sight of you riding Steve’s thigh was insanely hot, but you were distracted by the guards beyond the mirror watching you. “You know I hate you.”
Steve chuckles humorlessly, “Do you? Because your cunt seems to say otherwise.”
You brush your leg against Steve’s erection, earning a groan out of him. “Seems like your cock says otherwise, too.”
Steve grunts, trying to shift in his seat, desperate to feel any friction against his length. His gaze grows soft, his good eye growing doe-like as he stares at you needily.
“Please,” Steve rasps out. “Let me help you through this. When we make it out of here, no one has to know, I promise.”
You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to admit he’s joking, that it’s hilarious how pathetic you look riding a plastic cock strapped to him. He doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything to build the doubt, just waits patiently for your answer while you continue rocking yourself against him.
“Fine,” You finally agree, but as you lean closer to Steve’s face, you stop just as your foreheads touch, whispering, “Are you okay?”
Steve licks his lips as he looks at yours, nodding, “Aside from being nearly beaten to death, I’m fucking great. You?”
You blush with eyes wide, “Not the way I wanted to admit my feelings… but I guess it’ll do.”
You surge forward, lips catching Steve’s, and he whimpers into the kiss, mainly from the pain. At first, he can feel tears building in his eyes, the sting lasting longer than he expected… but he kind of likes it. A sigh shudders through him as the hurt turns him on even more.
“Looks like your friend is into pain, too.” The voice chimes in, and you bite softly on Steve’s bottom lip before tugging gently. He moans, louder this time. “Show him what you’ve got, sweet girl.”
Steve pulls away abruptly before glaring at the mirror for a moment, then back at you, trying to catch his breath.
“Fuck that, they can’t call you that. You’re mine.”
The sudden possessive demeanor catches you off guard, sending shivers up your spine. Steve slams his thigh against your core, and you cry out as the toy hits your sweet spot just right.
Before you can catch your breath, Steve thrusts the dildo into you again, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Your eyes roll back into your head and you feel dizzy from the extreme pleasure.
“Taking it so well, sweetheart.” Steve murmurs, leaning forward as best as he can to kiss your neck. You whimper as you continue bouncing on the strap, matching Steve’s thrusts.
Steve’s lips latch onto your skin, sucking and nipping at the sensitive spots in the crook of your neck. You brush your leg against his rock hard bulge, and Steve whines against your skin, responding with another harsh slam into you.
“M- more… ” You weakly mumble. Steve chuckles darkly at the request.
“Wish I could do more, sweetheart.” He grumbles into your skin, dipping his mouth lower to your chest. A gasp escapes you as you feel his tongue flick out against your nipple. “You look so pretty when you’re fucked out.”
All you can manage to get out is another long, drawn out whine, desperate to be able to touch Steve, to have him ruin you in return. The grave situation you’re both in almost melts away around you from the intense pleasure, but every now and then the static over the speakers reminds you you’re not alone.
Following the thought, the door clicks open, startling you from the forced bliss you were in. You feel Steve stiffen underneath you, but still he continues to keep his pace while bouncing his leg for you.
“Hm…” A guard you haven’t seen before, one with a thicker Russian accent spoke up as he took slow, agonizing steps towards the two of you. “It seems we’ve underestimated your friend.”
The guard circles the tangled mess of you and Steve, stopping as he ends up behind you. His hands wander from your shoulders, slowly caressing your arms, and you clamp your eyes shut in disgust.
“H- hey! Hands off of them!” Steve snaps, but the guard only laughs. Steve feels anger, white hot, building within him.
The guard circles back around to Steve, and your eyes open back up cautiously. You feel yourself almost relax as his touch leaves you, but tense back up as you watch the guard lean behind Steve.
“Wh- wait- what are you doing?” You ask as you panic. The guard smirks before the sound of metal hitting the floor echoes out against the cold, empty walls.
A beat of silence follows; with a swift motion, the guard pulls a syringe out from god knows where, plunging the needle into the side of Steve’s neck, catching him by surprise.
You gasp in horror as Steve cringes and hollers in pain, feeling helpless only being able to watch. It only lasts a moment before his head lolls forward onto your chest.
“What the fuck are you doing to him?!” You rasp out, tugging at the restraints your arms were still tightly bound in. Your eyes fall to Steve’s head resting on your chest, panicking as you wonder if he’s even still alive.
He leans down to Steve’s ear, dangerously close to you, as his eyes are still locked with yours. “Don’t disappoint us.”
The guard backs up, slipping out the door, leaving you stunned and confused. Panic continued to build in your chest; all pleasure had left your body as you worried for Steve’s safety.
“What just-“ Your eyes dart from the door, then to Steve, repeating a few more times. “- What just happened? Steve? Are you okay?”
For a moment, Steve is still silent. You hold your breath, hopeful to hear his own breathing if you listen closely enough, but your heartbeat is painfully loud in your ears.
It’s only a minute, maybe even less, but it feels like an eternity passes before you hear Steve groan. You sigh in relief.
“Oh my god, Steve,” You gasp, pushing yourself forward to try and push him off your chest. “Steve, wake up. Stay with me.”
A shaky breath rattles out of Steve before he speaks up, voice barely above a whisper. “You… you want… this… right?”
You nearly choke on air, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions attached to the events unfolding in this underground base.
“What do you mean?” You dare to ask.
“I- I don’t think— I don’t know what that was, b- but I don’t feel s’good…” Steve breathes, voice wavering.
Your brows furrow at Steve’s words. “You’re not making sense, Steve. What did they give you—”
You feel the words die in your throat as large, warm hands grip your hips. Steve slowly pulls his head up, flashing a devious smirk your way that makes your heart drop into your stomach.
The restraints holding Steve back had been undone, and whatever the fuck they injected into his veins had a strong hold over him now.
With gritted teeth, Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at you once more. “Tell me- tell— tell me you’re okay with this-“
“With what Steve?” You counter, still lost. “What are you— look. Just untie me, we can get out of here if we stick together.”
Gaze still fixated on you, Steve’s fingers dig into your skin, gripping you with a desire that reflects in his eyes.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” Steve murmurs, licking his swollen lips as his hands wander up your body, fingers splayed out as far as they can reach. “We’re just getting started.”
Frozen stiff— from fear or desire, you weren’t quite sure— you can only watch as Steve’s touch reaches your breasts, wasting no time in kneading. You melt into his touch, groaning, and it only tugs at the ends of his smirk even more.
Steve’s lips crash against yours, this time with more desperation and passion. You hear him whimper into your mouth as his tongue parts your lips, probably from the pain he still felt. Still, he pushes past the discomfort, massaging your tongue with his slowly.
You feel the slick of arousal build back up between your legs again, dripping down the strap still inside of you. It seems both you and Steve become aware of it again at the same time, because as you remember it’s presence, he bounces his leg up against your core.
Steve’s hands grip your hips again, guiding you as you ride the toy still strapped to his leg. A loud moan escapes you while Steve watches you with a heightened hunger.
“Y’get so wet so easily,” Steve husks, groaning as you work to build the pleasure back up within you again. “I bet you’d feel so fucking good and tight.”
Your stomach flips, but you’re so exhausted at this point, you can’t find the right words to keep up your end of the dirty talk.
“Such a filthy girl, too.” Steve groans, leaning down to kiss your chest. He trails sloppy kisses across your skin before reaching a nipple, teasing with his mouth as he did before. “Fucking a toy to save our lives.”
You speed your hips up at his words, despite the ache growing in your legs, barely holding you up. If it wasn’t for Steve holding onto you, you’re sure you’d collapse onto the floor.
“And you thought they wanted you to humiliate me?” Steve laughs sharply into your skin before biting the sensitive bud in his mouth. “Look at you, being forced to ride my leg— an inanimate object on my leg, and you’ve been dripping to the fucking floor.”
“Steve…. ” you whine while panting.
“Tell me what you want, sweet girl.” Steve encourages at first, but his eyes grow dark as he grips your throat with one hand, teasing with your breath. “C’mon, use that cocky mouth you were running all summer. You had no problem telling me how much you hate me, honey. Why so quiet now?”
The combination of the exhaustion and the way Steve is talking to you begins to make you grow weak, overcome by pleasure, and you begin to drool on yourself a bit. Steve barks out a laugh, turned on and disgusted.
“Jesus, you’re filthy.” Steve said lowly, removing his hand from your throat before slapping your face. “Don’t act cock-drunk yet, you’re not even fucking the real thing.”
While panting, you manage to get out, “I… want it.”
Steve’s brows quirk up, knowing exactly what you’re talking about but he doesn’t give in so easily. His hand snakes down between the two of you, fingers immediately reaching for your soaking, wet core.
You jolt at the sensation of Steve’s fingers on your clit, rubbing in painstakingly slow circles. You buck your hips, trying to add pressure, but Steve laughs lowly and pulls his hand back, barely touching your clit.
As you whine in desperation, Steve asks, “What do you want?”
Drained, you let your head loll forward, resting against Steve’s shoulder as your hips began to slow and stutter. Your panting is shallow as you feel exhaustion begin to grip you tightly.
Steve groans, shoving his shoulder forward to try and push you off, but to no avail; your forehead still rested on him, feeling your eyes growing heavy.
Again, Steve groans, almost like he’s… fighting with himself. A few moments pass until he strains out, “... You- you can’t s-stop…”
“... Hm?” You hold onto consciousness for dear life, both metaphorically and physically speaking.
Steve tucks his face into your neck, bouncing his leg softly, fucking the toy up into you, keeping you awake as you moan weakly.
“Let— let me take over,” he murmurs into your skin before kissing it gently. The soft touch of his lips against your neck sends shivers across your body. “D- do you trust me?”
“Y- yes, Steve,” You answer honestly, though still in a daze.
“Just— ” Steve forces out through gritted teeth before his mouth opens again, tongue darting out sharply to your skin before he bites down roughly. You cry out, feeling slightly alert again. “Ha- hang on for me, okay? I’ll take care of you… just hang on, can y’do that?”
As he waited for an answer, Steve began biting your neck again, sucking on the sensitive skin and soothing over the pain tingling across with his tongue. You groaned loudly in response.
“I need to- to hear you, babe,” Steve murmurs into your skin before biting once more, harder than the last time. You cry out at the sharp sensation. “Th- they’ll hurt us if— fuck!”
Steve inhales sharply, gripping into your skin with more force. You cry out at the pain as he shakes before crying out himself.
Whatever the guard gave him, he was able to fight off for a moment, but now it was just sinking deeper into his veins, taking full control again.
It’s probably too late at this point, but you still manage to blurt out, “I- I- I want you! I want you, Steve!”
Steve chuckles darkly into your neck before slowly licking a stripe up your skin, leading to your ear, panting heavily into it. “I know you do, sweetheart.”
In a quick, swift motion, Steve pulls you off of the toy while standing up, spinning you around before forcing your front against the nearest wall. Even through the roughness, the cool, metallic surface feels welcoming against your flushed skin.
With one hand, Steve holds you firmly by the back of your neck while he undoes the clasp of the strap around his leg, letting the toy fall to the floor. He quickly pushes his shorts down as best as he can with one hand before pressing himself against your backside.
You moan sinfully as you feel him, rock hard against your ass. Steve pants heavily while reaching around to your chest, groping your tits roughly.
“Mnph… S- Steve, please—”
One of his large hands reaches down to your ass, smacking harshly, earning a sharp cry from you again.
“You’ll take what I give you,” His voice is gravelly, serious. “Understood?”
You nod quickly, both startled and aroused. “Y- yes, Steve.”
“Good girl.”
Slowly, Steve kisses down your back, down your arms still bound behind you, before kneeling as he reaches your backside. You shiver under each, sloppy, wet kiss he leaves behind as he inches further and further down.
As he reaches the swell of your ass, he begins biting into the skin, gently, then gradually with more force as moves down.
“Spread your legs, babe.” Steve murmurs as he pushes your feet apart. He grabs you by the ankles, pulling you from the wall a bit, and you hold yourself up as best as you can with your upper body still against the surface.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck this tight, sweet cunt so bad,” Steve groans into your skin, hooking his arms around your thighs, pulling your ass closer to his face. “But I wanna taste you so much more.”
A breath shudders out of you before Steve kisses your soaked folds lightly. He sucks slowly on your folds before delving his tongue between them, collecting your arousal onto his lips.
You push your ass out further, desperate to feel more of Steve’s mouth on you, and greedily responds by sucking roughly on your clit.
“Oh… oh, fuck,” Your moans begin to fill the empty space around the two of you. Steve groans into your skin, vibrations adding to the pleasure he’s creating with his tongue. “M- more… god!”
Steve pulls back, laughing at your desperation while you whine. “Jesus Christ, I knew you wanted me, but you’re such a needy fuckin’ slut.”
He falls silent for a moment before spreading your cheeks and spitting onto your tight hole. You gasp in shock, knees growing weak as you feel Steve tease a finger around your entrance.
“Y’know, I bet your mouth would feel so good around my cock…” Steve mumbles before spitting again, spreading the saliva around your skin before slowly pushing a finger into your tight ring. Your eyes roll back in your head. “It’s a better use than you running it all the fuckin’ time. God— some days I just wanted to- to push you to your knees and shove my cock down your throat to shut you up.”
At this point you feel yourself begin drooling onto your body again, and Steve notices the mess trailing down onto the wall in front of you.
“Filthy slut… such a filthy, dirty girl,” Steve groans, slowly fingering your ass. “You’re gonna cum for me before I fuck your brains out, understand?”
Before you can answer, Steve’s lips are back on your core, flicking his tongue against your clit with precision. All that tumbles out of your mouth are breathy moans.
You look down to the floor and see Steve look up at you, position switched as he’s eating you out from the front, still fingering your ass and groping your cheek with his free hand. Though you can only see his eyes, you can tell he’s smirking while watching you come undone above him.
Steve adds a second finger into your cunt while groaning at how wet you are, how easily his digit slides in. Your head spins as he continues to finger fuck both your holes while lapping away at your clit. Your legs begin to shake, and Steve lets out a breathy laugh from between your thighs.
“M’close…” You whimper, flexing your wrists as far as you could between the restraints; you wanted nothing more than to pull on Steve’s hair right now, make him moan.
“Already?” Steve asks, pulling back from your core with his chin and lips glistening. He’s flashing a fake, mocking pout up at you. The sight makes your pussy throb as he continues fingering you. “I just started playing with you, babe.”
In your desperation to reach the high you’ve been chasing this whole time, you whine out, “I- I promise, you can do as much as you want— whenever you want!”
His tongue flicks lightly across your clit, but pulls back, leaving you whining in disappointment. “Yeah? This your truce? You finally gonna admit you’ve always liked me?”
You roll your eyes and huff, “Steve, no- now’s not the time—”
“Admit it.” Steve orders, voice low before he spits onto your cunt. You groaned at the sensation of his spit rolling over your clit, adding to the wetness from your arousal. “Admit you’ve always liked me. You’ve always had the hots for me, always wanted to fuck me—”
“Steve!”
“Sorry, right, you wanted me to fuck you.” Steve teases, driving you mad at this point. His fingers begin to slow, barely fucking you. “Just say the words, sweetheart, and I’ll let you cum.”
Taking a few deep breaths and rolling your eyes, you give in.
“Fine! Fine, okay!” You yelp out, twitching when Steve sucks on your clit for a second before pulling back again. You felt like you were going to die if you didn’t finally climax.
Which… yeah, that was technically the truth down here.
“Fine? Okay? What’s fine and okay, babe?”
You huff, ready to slam your thighs together on his irritating, cocky, pretty head. For a quick second, you almost do, but you remember neither of you are making it out of this room until the both of you climax, all for the guards’ pleasure.
This is so fucked up.
“God- fucking—”You pause as Steve leans back in to spit again, and a moan tumbles out of you. “— yes, okay, I- I- like you, Steve!”
Smirking, he leans in to swirl his tongue around your sensitive bud, just enough to feel good, but not enough to reach that high.
“And?”
“And- and- and I really like you, and always have,” You begin to stutter out. Steve’s tongue continues its pace. “I’ve always thought you were— oh, god- you— I want you to fu- fuck me, Steve. Please.”
Sickeningly sweet, he responds, “Anything for you, sweet girl,” before delving into your folds again, fully focusing his attention on the spot you needed him the most.
His fingers pick up speed again, and you’re thankful he’s got a good grip on your legs, or you’re certain you’d fall over by now.
You can’t stop the noises from escaping your lips as he continues his pace on ruining your body in the best ways possible. He hums into your core; the vibrations push you closer to the edge and your eyes close in bliss.
It’s only a moment longer before you’re shaking, orgasm ripping through your body while stars explode behind your lids. Mouth falling open in a silent scream, you feel yourself really let go. You swear, you’ve never felt this good by anyone before, not even your own actions on lonely nights.
Finally, a scream leaves your body in ecstasy, and Steve’s moans nearly match yours as he watches you reach your high above him.
“Fuck... that’s so... hot.” He rasps out. You open your eyes to his words to find his face covered in the aftermath of your high.
You feel embarrassment as heat creeps along your face in shame. “Oh- oh my god… Steve, I’m so sorry- I- I- didn’t even know I could do that-“
Steve licks his lips as they twist into a smirk up at you, pulling himself back along with his hand out of you. You whine at the loss and shiver as you watch him suck on his fingers, groaning around them.
A blush creeps across his face as he breaks through the haze of the drug again, only for a moment, but you don’t miss it.
“I- you— don’t apologize,” Steve says meekly, running a hand through his hair, also damp as well from the sweat and your climax. “That- that was my fucking dream—”
You almost laugh at how dorky he sounds, but notice how he tenses up again. His breathing becomes shallow as he winces, trying to fight it off.
“Steve,” You call out, worried. “We just have to finish and then we’re out of here, okay? You- you have to help me out here, I can’t move well with my hands still tied.”
Steve struggles at first to get to his feet, letting the substance in his body regain control again, but he manages to stand up between you and the wall. You’re more aware now than you ever have been of how he towers over you, shivering as he looks at you like you’re some sort of prey.
“You’ve been so good for me,” Steve says as he pushes a strand of hair from your face gently. His touch is soft, almost too soft for the way he’s been acting tonight. “I’ll let you pick the way you want me to fuck you.”
You gulp sharply, before responding with no hesitation, “Against the wall.”
Steve smirks, laughing lowly. “You were just against it, sweetheart.”
“I- I- yeah, I know,” You agree, blushing. Steve’s hand slowly cards through your hair before tugging, causing you to whine. “I mean like— my back against the wall. I- I wanna see you when you cum inside me, Steve.”
Steve groans and in a flash, he’s pulling you by your hair, slamming you against the wall. You gasp at the sudden movement, watching as Steve quickly pulls his clothes off before pressing himself against you.
Your heart sinks at the sight of more injuries across his body, blooming in radiant shades of purples and reds and blues. Steve slams his mouth against yours in a rough, quick kiss, pulling you from your worries of him. There’d be plenty of time later to clean up and care for each other.
He hoists you up by your legs, holding you tight as you’re balanced up against the wall. Steve looks between your bodies before spitting between them, coating his swollen cock in the makeshift lube.
“Please…” You whimper as Steve runs the head of his cock up and down your folds teasingly. He smirks at you before plunging in all at once, shuddering out a breathy moan of his own.
You heard the rumors back in school; you knew Steve was somewhat decent in bed, you just had no fucking clue he was packing the length and girth he had. Your head falls against his shoulder, biting the skin to hold back a scream as he stretches you out.
Steve’s brows furrow slightly before forcing out, “You… you… okay?”
You hum and nod in response, rasping out, “Move.”
Steve’s hips roll slowly into yours at first; you can tell he’s trying so hard to go easy on you. The real Steve would’ve wanted this first time to be slow and soft, still where he’s dominant, but caring and gentle. But, he’s not in control right now.
You, on the other hand… you’re not sure if you could say the same about your desires for the first time with Steve.
As he moves in and out of you with ease, pushing against your slick walls, you feel his cock twitch a little already.
“Whoa… you gonna cum this soon?”
Steve’s eyes turn dark as he slams into you. “Sh- shut up.”
Your stomach flips at the change back to this dominant, rough demeanor, and decide to push it further.
“Aww, is Steve gonna finish faster than I did?” You tease, and Steve’s pace picks up, slamming into you harder. You cry out, watching his expression turn frustrated.
“I said, shut up.” Steve spits, fucking you harder. Your eyes begin to roll back into your head.
“What? Can’t handle being teased, Stevie?” You continue to mock him, enjoying the way he’s reacting to it. “Don’t you like it? Don’t you— ”
Steve pulls you away from the wall and out of you before he shoves you towards the chair. As you stumble onto it, Steve unlatches the restraints, letting your hands fall to the back of the chair just in time to hold you up.
Bent over, Steve smacks your ass roughly before slamming back into you. You lurch forward and cry out again before he begins his steady, rough pace into you again.
“You’re such a fucking brat. Such a filthy, insatiable, brat.” Steve growls through gritted teeth, pounding into you relentlessly.
All you can do is continue to let your moans echo against the metallic walls in response.
Steve’s hands reach around to your face, gripping you for a moment before opening your mouth, hooking his fingers into your cheeks. You begin drooling all over yourself as he pulls at your mouth while continuing to rail you.
Again, all you can do is cry out… and make a terrible mess with your spit.
“God- fuck-“ Steve groans out, rutting into you mercilessly. “I- I’m gonna— where do you—”
“In me!” You manage to yell out around his fingers still in your mouth.
Steve’s breath hitches as he fights the drug again. “You… are you…sure?” His hands fall from your face and grip your hips tightly.
“I’ve never been so fucking sure of anything in my life,” You hurry out, gripping onto the chair while your knuckles grew white. You moan out sinfully, “Fill me up, Steve.”
Almost on command, Steve releases into you, coating your walls with his arousal while sloppily thrusting any energy he has left into you.
He feels like his high shoots him straight up to the stars. Even if it was fueled by that nasty mystery drug, it doesn’t matter to him. Not in the moment as your cunt milks out every last drop from him, just like he always dreamed of.
As you try to catch your breath, you rest your head onto your hands on top of the chair, closing your eyes as you feel him inside you. Steve slowly pulls out, groaning at the loss of you squeezing him, as you do the same at the loss of him inside you.
“Fuck… Steve….”
“I- did I just- did we just-“
You look back to see Steve, back to his doe-eyed, slightly shyer, dorkier self, blushing as he looks back at you. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or laugh this whole thing off, and you can sense the conflict in his feelings.
“Steve- it’s okay. We’re okay, I promise.” You pant out as you search his face, watching the real him break through.
His eyes fall to your cunt, dripping from your mixed juices, and he groans as he palms himself before dropping to his knees. As he grips your thighs, you gasp in surprise while feeling his tongue run up your folds slowly, lapping up every last drop.
You shiver and twitch from the overstimulation, still shaky from your orgasm from earlier.
“Fuck. Fuck.” You breathe out, exhausted and in disbelief of what just happened. Steve presses a kiss to the swell of your ass before moving to his feet.
His arms wrap around you, pulling you up right before sitting you in the chair properly. He searches your face carefully, looking for any signs of distress “You okay? I’m so- god. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
You cup his face in your hands softly, giving him a weak, but sincere smile. “Fucked up… but I wouldn’t have wanted this with anyone but you. Are you okay?”
Steve kisses your forehead softly before nodding, still shaking himself. “M- might ask you to stay over later… could use some aftercare. Kinda want to check on you too. Y’know… if we make it out alive.”
A loud buzz echoes in the room, followed by a clicking noise. You and Steve turn to see the door slowly, automatically open.
“Is… are they… can we go?” You ask, and Steve’s eyes dart between you and the door before pulling you up.
“Let’s get dressed and get the fuck outta here.” Steve rushes out, pulling you behind him.
You tug his arm back, and Steve spins to quickly run into you with a soft “oof!” Reaching up to him, you press your lips against his, savoring one more kiss before leaving this horrid room, this time, soft and slow.
You mumble against his lips, “I don’t think I’ll be leaving your side anytime soon.”
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MORE ANGST.
Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.
So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?
changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes
c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication
you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time
it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself
surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear
looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit
if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland
you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”
you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction
john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts
the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good
it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours
he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known
“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady
the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”
simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about
he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”
“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye
price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room
“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow
“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off
“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…
#mw2#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#captain john price#john price#john price x reader#ghost x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john soap mctavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader
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𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ❜
chapter no. 000!
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀CONTENT : angst-ish. reader is lowk insecure and paige is lowk not good at reassurance (its for the plot trussst)
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀ WORD COUNT : 637
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if yall like this or not!
THERE WAS A TIME WHERE PAIGE KISSING YOU, having you underneath her warm lips, was the best thing that could happen to you. you loved how human it was. how natural it felt for her to be on top of you, her body heat engulfing you. whenever you were together; it was like you entered a little bubble…one where only you and her existed.
but everything is temporary, (including humanity, apparently) because one november night, she had you pinned against her bed and all you can think about is how much you hate the feeling. you’re alone together now, in the private comfort of her apartment. the blinds were drawn shut but it wouldn’t matter because by now midnight had already rolled in and everyone looking in was most likely sleeping. you had her to yourself, finally –– nothing about the setting was unusual, most of the alone time you and paige had was past 11pm. she only loved you in the dark.
but it wasn’t enough anymore.
perhaps you had gotten greedy, finding yourself wanting to hold her hand in less private spaces. you’d been with her for months, six to be exact, and yet it felt pointless. she wouldn’t tell anyone. she said she loved you but she couldn’t tell anyone. and it didn’t help that she was possibly the biggest flirt most likely ever. she pulled away, noticing your lack of usual enthusiasm.
“is something wrong?” three words that jump started the end of the relationship—if you could even call it that. it was inauspicious at best, nonexistent at worst. that was your greatest fear when it came to the two of you––that there was really nothing there. those three, almost dismissive words, completely shattered you.
you bite your tongue but it’s futile. when you open your mouth again the words escape before you even realize it, much less stop yourself from saying them. “why did you say that?”
“cause you’re being weird and i wanna know what’s up?” she says in an obvious tone, confused as to why you’d even question her motives for trying to know what’s wrong with her girlfriend.
“no, not that.” you sigh, realizing your vagueness. “earlier.”
paige’s confused expression doesn’t lift for even a moment, in fact, it seems to increase.
“to the girl at the shop. when she asked if you had a girlfriend.” you reply simply, annoyed that the situation clearly meant nothing to her when it meant everything to you. at the moment, at least. “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”
“well, that’s not exactly a lie.” she’s mostly joking but it’s clear that you didn’t take it that way. your hand, which was running up and down the length of her spine subconsciously, stops abruptly. her words are spoken lightheartedly but they suffocate you.
“i just mean…i’m kinda with you, y’know? so i’m not actively looking.” she doesn’t know why that’s what she chose to say in that moment and those words would prove to haunt her for long after.
“would it kill you to call me your girlfriend?”
she pauses, tensing like she always does whenever you talk labels. her silence is the worst answer. her silence is indifference. she doesn’t care, of course she doesn’t. why would you even expect her to? it was clear she only wanted a good time from you.
so you decided to make this easy for her. by saying what she never ever wanted you to say to her. you sit up, standing from the bed. “i think it’s best if we don’t keep seeing each other.”
she hates how formal you sound. she hates even more how she can’t say anything. she hates how she can’t speak even when you gather your things to leave her. she let you go, too frozen to stop you.
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Enhypen kisses off your flavored chapstick/lip gloss (kinda boring idk)
라이즈 𐙚 guess .
genre fluff 𖹭 warning kisses ﹗ pairing boyfriend OT7 x fem reader | bookshelf .
𐙚 heeseung
about ten minutes ago, your boyfriend has been staring at you, well, at your lips. and of course, you noticed.
“what with that face?” you asked with a raised eyebrow as you looked at him. and without answering, he stands up and sits next to you, looking with his deer and shiny eyes.
“that color is new, isn't it?” he comes closer to your face, staring at the color. you nodded in response.
you were going to speak until you felt the warmth of his lips on yours, moving them slowly in a sloopy kiss, savoring the flavor of your lipstick.
“hee, you kissed off all the..”
“hm, and now peach, it's my favorite flavor” and ignoring your words, he kissed your lips again.
𐙚 jay
“all right. bye babe, see ya' later” you quickly peck his lips and turn to leave, putting your bag on your shoulder.
“wait!” he says, making you turn around to look at him with curiosity. “can you kiss me one more time, please?” your boyfriend asks, looking at you with a mini smile.
“no jay, you're gonna kiss it off all the lipstick” you whined, but anyway, you walked until you were next to him, making him chuckle. he turned his chair, holding your waist with both hands.
you tried your best not to smile when you saw his face. you approached his lips, and with that, your lipstick was gone.
“i love when you put this” with his eyes still closed, he spoke. as you shake your head in defeat, you run a finger through the corner of his lips, wiping the color.
𐙚 jake
“this is for you” a box, who looked like a lipstick one, was placed it in front of your eyes. you raised them, looking at the package, and then to your smiley boyfriend, who looked jut like a big puppy in this moment, with his excited eyes.
“aw jake.. thank you!” you also smile, grabbing the mini box. “but why did you buy me this?” he 'frowned' as he looked at you.
“because i love you, and because i know that this color will suit you” he sat in front of you, now looking at the lipstick in your hands. “so, c'mon. try it on”.
as he said, you put some, looking in the screen of your phone. and once you were done, you turned to look at him.
“what do you think?” you playfully pout in his direction, causing his smile to grow bigger. jake put a hand on your cheek and nodded.
“yeah, i knew it” and one moment to another, his lips were over yours. obviously, kissing off all the lipstick. “and the flavor is so sweet!” his now colored lips made you laugh.
𐙚 sunghoon
today you had a date night with your boyfriend. you were excited all day, so you bought a new lip gloss at the mall.
“ready?” sunghoon appeared from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist, resting his head in your shoulder, as he looked at you through the mirror.
“ready” you turn your body to look at him, closing the cosmetic, hearing a click.
“hm, that's a new color?” staring at your lips, then at your eyes, he smiles, showing his fangs. you nodded in response. “it's so shiney. i like it”. before you can respond, he pressed his lips to yours, grabbing both sides of your face. “you are so pretty”.
“hoon..”
“and the flavor is.. cherry?” after liking his lips, he kissed you one more time.
𐙚 sunoo
“oh, you bought the chapstick i recommended!” the excited tone and the smiley, foxy shaped eyes of your boyfriend in front of you make you smile.
“mhm. here” you close it and hand it to him.
“but i didn't know that this flavor existed. blueberry” he read it out loud, examining the package.
“if you want, you can try it” you said with a smile, looking at the chapstick in his hands.
“all right” he came closer to your face, surprising you with a kiss, grabbing the back of your head, so you can't get away. “hm.. probably next time i bought one” liking his lips, he smiled at you.
then he laughed at your face, which was all red.
𐙚 jungwon
as always, after a long day of work, your boyfriend comes home, and the first thing he does is hug you. and today wasn't the exception; arms around your torso and face in the crook of your neck.
“hey, that sweet smell comes from your lips?” he suddenly asks, raising his head, meeting your eyes. you nood after a few moments, knowing what was coming.
“won.. don't—” you tried to escape from him, but your boyfriend was fast, hugging you more tightly, not letting you go.
“nuh-uh, i have to kiss you. it's strawberry!” he approached your face, chasing your lips. but you hide on his chest. “hey!” your boyfriend whined.
before you can keep protesting, his lips collide with yours in a tender kiss. and after a couple of seconds, his hand made their way to your nape, making the kiss deeper. kissing off all the strawberry chapstick.
𐙚 ni-ki
“here..” your boyfriend handed you his chapstick, which he took out of his pocket. you looked at him.
“oh” opening it, you put some on your lips. “thank you” with a smile, you returned to him.
ni-ki stares at you a couple of seconds in silence, like he was thinking about something, and at the same time, he grabbed the chapstick he approached to your face, pecking your lips.
“why was that for?” you asked, blinking.
“just because i wanted to taste the flavor. hm... vanilla” he jokes with a smile on his face, avoiding your eyes. a pink color decorates his cheeks.
you giggle, playfully punching his shoulder.
#lim ⋆#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#enhypen#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jungwon#enhypen niki#enhypen x reader#enhypen drabbles#enha x reader#enhypen x you#kpop imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines
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Kickin Chicken once said
@hiwelcometothemonstersancturary gave me the go to do this, which is mistake one for them, so here is my go at giving them what they encouraged while I pray it works well. And if not...well I at least tried.
* (Refering to Bobby) She is called Captain Heartbeat cause she will squeeze love out of your heart...and blood, but mostly love.
* (After speaking pr-bt for a 2 minutes) You ever forget your first language?
* Mods, take their swimming privileges away and put them in the pool.
* I would go evil, but I am going to follow dad's steps of being good...plus I saw they went shoe shopping so...
* What do you mean I can't seduce myself!?
* (Loud thud off Camera) PERCEPÇÃO DE PROFUNDIDADE!
* Our ship has a pool, an omelet bar, tons of rooms for you to sleep in, one would say that is a cruise, to which I say, fair, but have you seen the plank, cause I am about to get you real familiar with it.
* I heard some demons were touched starved. I got more than enough buckshot to help with that.
* Bubba, reading chat: "Kickin isn't the sharpest knife in the group," Well that is rude...
Kickin: I did eat packing peanuts when I was younger to be fair.
Everyone in room:
Kickin:...Wait is this new information for you?
Everyone: YES!?
* Wonder how many people come on to see me stream thinking "Oh hey, the voice actor for Kickin does streaming," or "Hey is this the official channel for the Smiling Critters show?" And they just come in on me saying something like, "I HAVE BUILT A TO SCALE JOLLY ROGER WITH POPSICLE STICKS!"
* Hey Theo, it's you! (Gets empty bottle thrown at head) Ow.
* White is the color of evil, cause nothing exists in it! Delight taught me that!
* I would cry, but I am too dehydrated to do such a thing. (Goes to drink some water, pauses, puts water bottle back down)
* It is always funny to see people react to my complete indifference to horrible stuff.
* I needed to find a way to get a gambling addiction, so I thought space could have the answer.
* (Seeing Bubba being affected by the blue screen) Bubba, I know you always wanted to become the one thing I love, but this is ridiculous!
* I am just saying revenge is amazing, ok? Yeah, you gain a tremendous amount of regret sometimes, but it is amazing.
* Cool motive bro, still murder!
* (In response to Angel giving them food) It hasn't been that long since I started streaming, it has only been...5 hours...
* This is my favorite bird. (Holds up middle finger before pointing to self) It is the chicken.
* (Wearing VR) The future is today!...I might need it adjusted though.
* Does dying take away time away from my vacation days?
* IT IS ALL A CONSPIRACY TO END ME! IF NO ONE EVER HEARS FROM ME AGAIN, IT IS CAUSE THEY KILLED ME, CHOPPED ME UP, AND FED ME TO THE WOLVES DANG IT!
* Fursuits are getting so good you can now subject yourself to your own form of trauma to fuse into it. Brought to you by Playtime.
* I have seen the internet and honestly, have seen worse. Which is saying alot.
* (Looks at Candy Cat in his lap before looking at camera)...Help. me.
* Theo: You finally did it! Did it help when you imagined it was me you were fighting?
Kickin: Not at all...worked when it was Dogday though.
Dogday: WHAT DID I DO?
Kickin: Hell if I know. As long as it works though.
* (Playing I Expect You to Die, dies trying to do an action pose)...(Starts singing the James Bond theme notes)
* (Reacting to "Unnecessary Feelings") Bubba, I was promised a crime drama, not a reminder that no one in this house knows how to feeling well, including us!
* I would boop you, but I don't want a pirate hook this early in my character development.
* William then preceded to commit several hours of joy, on at least an entire classroom of kids to learn why death does.
* You can have one hit Hoppy...Ah não, ela tem uma cadeira!
* Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I am just going to turn into a nuke to fall on you.
* (Stares at camera while winding music box)
* Chica, you wouldn't hurt your brother, would you? Or would you want me to be you and Foxy's kid, whichever makes you more merciful on me.
* I am here to break the stereotype that parrots can only be pirates and no other reasons at all.
* (Refering to how much money he has in game) $60!? I can finally afford 1 AAA video game! (Pulls up Balan Wonderworld steam page) I am going to buy this one guys!
* Kickin, coming into Crafty's stream: You mind if I borrow a picture.
Crafty: Uh sure...Why?
Kickin, taking one of the monsters: A reminder.
Crafty: A reminder of what?
Kickin: Of who in this family is an actual threat. (Leaves without elaboration)
* Don't make fun of me, I will cry will I beat you up.
* We don't even own a game cube, I just want to find a copy of Skies of Arcadia to display.
* When you get into a certain mindset for so long, it is so jarring to have to go into a different line of think, like you just suddenly ask, "Wait I don't have to ration this sandwich for the entire year?"
* WHY DID I LET THEO TALK ME INTO PLAYING THIS!?
* I am still surprised I recovered so well from all of that.
* What would the others do without me? Minus not having a heart attack everyday.
* I SURVIVED THAT FACTORY FOR OVER 10 YEARS, I WILL NOT LET A SLIDING PUZZLE DEFEAT ME!
* Have good night everyone! I don't remember how I end these...I will make you walk the plank! No, that is not it...
#is it clear I used Google translate cause I don't know the language?#i am very sorry for that#poppy playtime#smiling critters#au#smiling critters arg#smiling critters poppy playtime#kickinchicken#poppy worldwide
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Dream’s Therapist
Insomnia
I have prepared for the session by pulling up the notes from the intake.
The client is very punctual again, albeit only 15 minutes early this time. I have made sure that my office is not too bright since this seemed to have caused a certain amount of discomfort during our intake session.
Like the previous time, he will not take off his coat, and he does not engage in friendly smalltalk at the beginning of the session. My remark about the terrible weather brings up, “You have no idea what terrible weather is,” or some such like, and I begin the session without further ado.
DT: I would like to start today’s session with examining your current sleeping habits, since you hinted you were suffering from insomnia during your intake.
Dream: Sleep eludes me. But truth be told, I do not have any need for sleep. I inspire, and I have dreams and nightmares to create.
DT: And why do you think that is?
Dream (I notice a certain annoyance in the way he leans forward in his chair): It is my purpose and my function. And I am quite certain I told you this the last time. (I notice the wish to be perceived). As I have already pointed out: I weave dreams and stories. But lately, I have been feeling... uninspired.
DT: Uninspired? Are you feeling particularly stressed?
(I notice he is still rather enamoured with the paperweight on my desk. He proceeds staring at it without replying).
Would you like to hold it?
Dream (I notice his eyes dart towards me, and he looks at me for a moment with rather wet eyes): May I?
DT: Sure.
(I notice the way he picks up the paperweight and then holds on to it not unlike a pre-schooler would engage with a stuffed animal. I decide to carefully explore childhood nighttime memories)
DT: Tell me about your childhood. Did you have a teddy when you were little, or a favourite stuffy that you took to bed at nighttime?
Dream (deadpan): I am the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Stuffies are beneath my notice. (I might have hit a sore spot since he puts the paperweight back on the desk rather unceremoniously)
DT: Have you always believed you are a cosmic entity?
Dream (I notice the way he sharply exhales through his nose): I do not believe I am a cosmic entity. I am Dream of the Endless. I walk the realms of imagination and story, and I conjure dreams and nightmares. How often will I need to repeat myself?
DT (I notice the wish to be perceived again): I am aware of your beliefs. Do you think that all of these… responsibilities are a bit much and might be the cause of your lack of sleep? And before we go any deeper, let me quickly check in: Have you tried the usual, like counting sheep or a warm glass of milk?
Dream (I notice a degree of exasperation): It is usually I who sends sheep to dreamers, even to the ones who would rather opt to count lost socks, and milk is for mortal stomachs. Strictly speaking, your kind shouldn’t even drink cow’s milk, but not to get too involved in human delectations. That is to say (he leans forward in his chair again and gives me a piercing stare): I exist beyond such trivialities.
(The delusion seems to run deeper than I imagined, but I decide to stay on the topic of insomnia for today’s session. A better sleep schedule certainly won’t do any harm and will aid in tackling the deeper issues.)
DT: During our last session, you briefly mentioned that you have commitment issues (I notice he looks at the paperweight again). Take it, please.
(I notice his eyes turn wet once more, and I will need to get to the bottom of why a paperweight made of rose quartz creates such a strong reaction in him, but not right now. He takes the paperweight and this time, he lets it disappear in his coat pocket. I decide to ignore the attempted theft for now).
Is it possible that your problems with commitment extend to other areas of your life? Like committing to a sleep schedule?
Dream (I notice a degree of confusion that seems to morph into annoyance): I assure you, I am extremely committed to my realm. I do not shirk my responsibilities and adhere to… rules meticulously.
DT: I don’t doubt it. Do you avoid the bed?
Dream (He straightens in his chair and looks me dead in the eye. I notice his pupils have dilated considerably, which suggests sympathetic innervation/a surge of adrenaline): No. However, I do not peruse it to… sleep. (I notice he is not sitting still as a statue anymore. His legs are crossed, and his supporting leg is engaged in a tapping motion originating in his foot)
DT (I try not to linger on the uncomfortable silence that is only interrupted by the slight squeaking of the sole of his boot and the accompanying tapping): Did you ever try a bedtime routine that is more to your liking than counting sheep? Warm bath? Reading? Chamomile tea?
Dream (I notice teeth grinding): Chamomile tea tastes like mortal tears.
DT: And smells like urine, not keen myself (I notice a fleeting facial expression I cannot quite place. His mouth twitches). Are you open to suggestions?
Dream (I notice slight hesitation, and I decide to shrug my shoulders and smile. Daring move. He furrows his brow): You may… suggest.
DT: I think journaling might be helpful for a while to see what keeps you from sleeping. Write down whatever comes to mind, from what you have experienced during the day to what you’ve eaten.
Dream: I do not eat.
DT: You do not?
Dream: Well, sometimes I do, but… (He seems to contemplate something for a moment). No matter, I shall… write.
DT (I sense a basic degree of cooperation, which is a start): All day, but especially around bedtime. We can use it the next time and see if we spot any patterns. It might also be helpful with the topic of emotion processing.
Dream (I note he engages in his habitual nose-bridge-pinching, and he closes his eyes. I am fairly certain he is also rolling them behind closed lids, and I wonder if his cooperation has just disappeared into thin air): I already told you I do not “feel”. It is a…
DT: Quaint human invention? Like love?
Dream (I notice his eyes open at alarming speed. He looks annoyed for a moment. He then quirks one eyebrow): You have paid attention to my words after all.
DT: Did you expect me not to?
Dream (I notice uncertainty): Perhaps.
DT: Then why are you here?
Dream (I notice a facial expression that hints at confusion): I… because I respect your… delusional expertise.
DT (I am not certain if that is a compliment or an insult and decide to pay no heed): That does not answer the question though, or at least not in its entirety. Because this is not about my expertise, is it?
Dream (He leans forward in his seat): What is it about then?
DT (I notice he is trying to engage in subversion tactics): You.
Dream (I notice he flinches and immediately leans back again. His eyes are wet, and he does not speak. I decide to give the silence space.
The silence lasts for 12 minutes. One needs to be able to sit with the discomfort on occasion.
He stands up all of a sudden): I trust our time is up?
DT: No.
Dream: Good, I shall leave then.
DT (I notice the same pattern to end the session as the last time. He begins to walk out): Are you going to keep that?
Dream (He turns around): Keep what?
DT: My paperweight.
Dream (I notice he looks flustered and reaches into his coat pocket.): My apologies. (He hesitantly comes back and places the paperweight back on my desk.)
DT: No harm done, we all forget things from time to time.
Dream (I notice he lifts his chin and seems affronted): I do not forget things. Ever.
DT: Well, you just did.
Dream: I… (I notice he blinks thrice in quick succession) Same time next week?
DT (I notice the reversed initiative compared to our last session and choose to reply accordingly): Yes, let us pencil it in.
Dream: You may use ink…
< Previous Session
#the sandman#sandman#dream of the endless#Dream’s therapist#morpheus#dream of the endless rp#morpheus rp#satire#or possibly still a#tragicomedy#and walking that line kills me#queue crew
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the perennial Tai Discourse is really interesting to track bc, speaking broadly, the two major camps are just:
those who focus primarily on ruby’s recollection of her childhood and relationship with her dad (and filter what yang says through that lens such that “i had to pick up the pieces and keep things together when i was five” gets diluted into “yang had responsibilities as a child”)
those who focus primarily on yang’s memories and her arc in v4 (and tend to just ignore or minimize the things ruby says that suggest a positive relationship with tai, in particular often just flat out disregarding how excited ruby is to spend time with or receive care packages from him)
when it’s like. yeah that’s. literally the point. that ruby and yang had profoundly different childhoods.
they’re half-sisters in a story about fairytales and only one of them had a decent dad. rwby is unsubtly interrogating the fairytale archetype of the Evil Stepmother/Dead Mother with raven (not dead, but absent) and summer (villain, presumed dead) and that archetype quite literally requires its counterpart archetype of the Neglectful Father who remarries and tacitly participates in the Evil Stepmother’s abuse of his child from his first wife
tai is as much an exploration of the fairytale Neglectful Father as raven is the Dead Mom and summer is the Evil Stepmother. that’s. a core aspect of the narrative surrounding the rose xiao long family.
the Dead Mom often reincarnates as a bird or tree or similar spirit to watch over her child; rwby turns this on its head by reimagining the Dead Mom as an absent one. raven watches over yang in her bird form because she is too afraid to be meaningfully present; she isn’t dead, but her absence in yang’s life is so complete that she might as well have been, and the fairytale tension between the Dead Mom’s death and her lingering presence is explored through these cramped and inadequate half-measures raven takes in trying to have it both ways.
the Evil Stepmother is a vehicle for making the fairytale heroine miserable; she has no identity nor any reason for her monstrous treatment of the child who is not her own. rwby, again, flips this over with the mystery of summer rose. who was she, really? did anyone know? she was a good stepmom—she loved yang like her own daughter—but now she’s gone. she left. she never came back. she lied. she joined salem. why? what expectations did she feel on her shoulders? what broke her? why did she do the things she did?
lastly, the Neglectful Father must either be a love-blind fool or a weak, contemptible man with no love or loyalty to his own blood; he forgets his motherless child at the behest of his new love. rwby turns this on its head too by rendering tai as a human being—messy, flawed, fully-realized. wicked stepsisters exist for the purpose of being spoiled by the Evil Stepmother in juxtaposition with her cruelty to the first child, who is kind and good because she remembers her mother’s lessons. the fairytale children of these archetypes function as repetitions of their mothers. rwby makes that the central conceit of its spin on the Neglectful Father: what if he loved both the Dead Mom and the Evil Stepmother so much and then both of them broke his heart in mirrored ways, leaving him a single father to both of their children? if he sees raven in yang and summer in ruby, how does that color his relationships with both girls? if you take away the Evil Stepmother but not her daughter, does the Neglectful Father remember his first child? or are people more complicated than that?
and with all three, the narrative engages with these one-dimensional archetypes by constructing complicated, multi-faceted characters on top of them; by tossing the simplistic moral didacticism of a fairytale and presuming, first, that everyone is trying their best, that bad choices can be made from good intentions, and that no one gets it right all the time, or even most of the time. love and profound dysfunction can coexist.
ruby and yang had very different childhoods. that’s the narrative foundation the whole rose xiao long family is built on, because they’re a deconstruction of the archetypal fairytale blended family.
#this is also why every permutation of ''tai isnt rubys Real Dad'' is nonsense btw. ruby being yang’s half-sister instead of step-sister is#on purpose. the condemnation of the archetypal fairytale Neglectful Father is he mistreats his own blood in favor of another man’s children#and rwby uses his blood relation to both his daughters to question that framing;#the dynamic doesn’t become any Less dysfunctional if the favored child is equally the father’s by blood
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hmm. so i had... another svsss idea.
A-Niang was the best mother Luo Binghe had ever had, which was a pretty weird feeling to have, considering he was 50% sure he'd only had the one mother.
That was a weird feeling, too! Why was he only 50% sure? From the beginning of his life to his present feelings, wasn't it clear there was only one woman taking care of him? Didn't he only have the one mother to honor?
Okay, two, if you considered the one that had dumped him in the river and let A-Niang find him, but considering that one had dumped him in the river --
"That's really mean!" Luo Binghe said, when A-Niang had told him. "What if I drowned? Babies can't swim! What if I died??"
"But you didn't," A-Niang said gently. "The river brought you to me, didn't it, Bing-bing?"
"Well, yeah..."
But his birth mother couldn't have known that. Who would put a baby adrift in an icy river in winter and think that it would survive?
But his birth mother didn't have a choice. She would have kept him if she could, but she'd been dying, so she'd had to hope for the best --
Why did he think that? This wasn't only something that he wanted to believe -- though it would be nice to believe that his mother didn't leave him to die!!! -- it was something he knew. Faith and belief were nice things, but it wasn't the same thing as knowledge. This, he knew, with an off-hand certainty, the same way anyone would know that the midday sky was blue.
The sky was blue. His birth mother wanted to save his life. He had more than two mothers.
"My stepmom," he'd say, thinking that A-Niang cooked better than -- who? "My mom," he'd say, thinking that A-Niang was so much prouder of him than --
Than...?
When he wasn't paying attention, he'd have stray thoughts that didn't make sense. It was a pain getting water from the river and heating it up, what he wouldn't give for a sink and a stovetop. Who wanted to shit outside in the bushes, wouldn't it be nice to have a working bathroom? Ah, he was so bored, he even missed writing, even if writing twenty million words had killed him --
It was like this. Drawing shapes in the dirt with sticks, thinking that they didn't look right, smoothing it over and trying it again until he ended up with something that he knew with certainty was his name.
Luo Binghe.
Except he didn't know how to write? Except that wasn't his name? Of course it wasn't his name, Luo Binghe was his OP protagonist son who he'd proudly written to ensnare the audience of Qidian so he could have all the instant ramen he could ever want, even if his dad and his mom stopped remembering he existed, and. And --
"Bing-bing, what's wrong?" A-Niang said, when she found him crying in the dirt. He hadn't even realized he was crying -- hadn't realized it until she smoothed her hand over his shoulder and brought everything back into focus.
He couldn't stop crying, fat tears dripping to the ground unceasingly. His throat was dry, too tight to speak what he'd really wanted to say --
There's something wrong with me, isn't there?
#my writing#svsss#i'm sure someone's come up with this idea before#i'm sure it exists!!!!#if someone knows of a fic please tell me!!!
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Surprise Bag 2024 Story (Prologue)
The April Fool's story from 2024. This is only the prologue, as the continuations are sold as story sales that I will not be purchasing. I do still think it is very funny, though.
The premise is a bodyswap, Ellis <> Jude and Elbert <> Alfons
Ever since I became a Fairytale Keeper, I like to think that my tolerance for the extraordinary has increased.
However, this latest happening in Crown far surpassed anything I had ever experienced.
"Jude": Good morning, Miss Kate. I'll make you happy today too.
Kate: ...Jude, did you... hit your head on something?
"Jude": Hm? Nope, I'm perfectly fine. Haven't hit my head on anything.
Kate: What happened to your usual terrible attitude?! Did you catch a cold? Are you injured? We have to go to the hospital now--
"Ellis": Tch, the hell is this?
"Jude": Ah, Jude.
"Jude": Huh? Jude, why are you me?
"Ellis": I should be the one asking. Why the hell are you me?
Kate: Wha? Huh??
"Elbert": Ahha! Something terribly amusing seems to have happened, hasn't it?
Kate: Alf- Eh, Lord Elbert?
Kate: Wait, so then is that 'Alfons' standing behind you...?
"Alfons": ...When I looked in the mirror, I became Al.
"Elbert": Being able to look at oneself from the point of view of an outsider truly is fascinating.
"Elbert": Oh yes, El. Do speak more energetically. It's unsettling to hear myeslf sound so glum.
"Alfons": ...More energetically? ...I'll, try...
"Alfons": ........Ahha.
"Elbert": I suppose that's my mistake for asking you to be more energetic.
Kate: Wait, just hold on a second. So what's happened is...
Kate: ...Jude and Ellis, and then Lord Elbert and Alfons have swapped bodies!?
Kate: What kind of ridiculous situation is this...!?
"Ellis": It's that goddamn doctor bastard's fault. I'll kill him.
---
Gathering the remainder of Crown, we questioned Roger about the circumstances. He let out an unrestrained laugh.
Roger: My bad, my bad. Who'd ever think that the results would pay off this quickly? Aren't I a genius?
Victor: Now's not the time, Roger! What did you do to cause this adorable- excuse me, very troubling situation?
Liam: Victor, you're not hiding your true feelings very well. Your words and face don't match at all.
Roger: I had the thought of swapping a cursed person with a normal person. That could lead to the curse transferring, couldn't it? So I was doing some research.
William: Your unquenchable thirst for knowledge is admirable indeed. But if that were the case, shouldn't you be experimenting with a cursed person and a normal human?
Roger: It'd be pretty dangerous for us if something went wrong while I was experimenting on a normal person, wouldn't it? I thought I'd test things out on these guys first.
Harrison: Just what do you think we are? We die just as easy as normal people, you know.
"Elbert": Let's toss that musclehead four-eyes into the Thames.
"Ellis": Yeah. Fix some stone weights to him and it'll be over quick.
Kate: Stop, stop! Don't say things like that wearing Elbert and Ellis's faces!
"Jude": But that's pretty amazing, Roger. I never thought that medicine like this could exist.
Liam: ...Jude being all soft is- nope, that's just weird!
Roger: Don't worry so much. Once I've collected enough data from you lot, I'll whip up an antidote.
Roger: ........Once I've got an antidote, I can start testing on the others.
Harrison: ...You just said something awful, didn't you?
Roger: Don't know what you're talking about.
"Elbert": You're acting like you're in any position to bargain about turning us back? Pardon my French, but go die.
Harrison: Yikes... Uh, Liam? Hey, Liam, hey. Did he fall asleep?
"Jude": Sorry, I touched his head. I was curious about whether I could use Jude's power or not.
Roger: Huh, so the ability stays with the body. I really am a genius after all, aren't I?
(This isn't helping anymore...!)
Kate: A-anyway! Please make that antidote as soon as possible, Roger!
Kate: ...Geez. What are we going to do if Her Majesty hears about this?
Roger: Well, I might end up getting fired...
Roger: ...So it's up to you to watch over the lot of them to make sure nobody else finds out about this, little lady.
Kate: Huh? ...Roger? Wait!
"Ellis": Tch... Fuck it. Let him get kicked out.
"Jude": Ah, Jude, my body isn't used to--
"Ellis": *cough, cough*... Ellis. First thing we're doing is to start training so you can at least handle one cigar.
"Elbert": Hmm... with a face like this, I could get away with doing pretty much anything, don't you think?
"Alfons": ...Kate, is this spoon beautiful?
Kate: M-my poor sanity...!
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Crack idea but like
I was reading a thread that was going over all the possibility for horror in Hell as an immortal sinner, and a comment mentioned Alastor’s bit of somehow being special in “disappearing” sinners presumably with the lack of angelic instruments and capturing overlords and their voices to be used for his broadcast- you know, all that stuff.
I’ve imagined that he possibly really sends them over to Roo/Eve which is how they stay trapped, but for this instance I thought about what keeps being taken.
The Root of All Evil & the Sin of Knowledge Perceiving
Relating to the maxim of “See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil”, if we are to assume Eve and Roo are separate beings, what if the proxies/agents of Roo are to be compared to them as twistings? That they have methods in which a sinner could be permanently killed and extract respective parts or receptacles of evil from them, or maybe Roo or at least an extension of her/their power is used to tear a sinner’s soul apart the different sensitivities are given for the different proxies to govern.
Why not say that eyes and the voices are entirely directly related to Roo?
Roo needs proxies (aside from a possible plot of being trapped somewhere and needing external forces to break out like the difficulty of getting out of an egg vs breaking in) because Evil only exists when there is Will to pervert, it lies inside humanity and only humanity (and similarly sentient beings) has the free will to act upon it. Ways for her to be perceived and to be enacted upon, the keys to her prison. So she has them as vessels of her power.
Seeing Evil - Eve acts as Roo’s eyes (because what is an Eye if not an Eve that had extended a root-) , to observe the Earth and all of the Afterlife and learn of the corruption around. Brings suffering to the world by manifesting as that spine chill when you think someone’s looking at you, imagine eyes in the dark, or feel the weight of a hundred eyes fueling your anxiety when giving a presentation.
Al can fit in with the theme, acting as a vassal for
Speaking Evil - The trapping of hundreds of voices, to scream of pain and misery that would await death and after death, Alastor bringing forth unsilenced terror. He may act as a conduit or microphone from which Roo would whisper her sweet nothings and everythings to Earth- she definitely was able to do that before, without him, but who’s to say it wouldn’t help with the poisoning to have some kind of anchor? (Who’s to say she hadn’t had a different mouthpiece before, that Alastor was neither the first nor would be the last?)
This is just a fun thing that could be done for fanfiction- I don’t really think that a pattern like that is gonna happen for Roo followers, but it might be fun.
We’d still have “Hear No Evil” to compare to—I mean I guess you can put Roo themself as that but ehh—, maybe someone in the next season could fit the bill though I’m not sure how like ears manifesting could really look any kind of horrifying rather than weird compared to Eyes or Mouthsand/orScreams.
There could also be more to the types of followers in the pattern, if we take up the possible fourth monkey additions of “Do No Evil” or the good ol’ “Think No Evil”, or even “Smell No Evil” (yes that’s a variation).
Could be a good alternative to having a 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse theme!
[or maybe do both at the same time, that’s what Cult of the Lamb did and what totally wasn’t further inspiration for this drabble]
👀
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I was rewatching some old 4-Sided Dives this morning bc I'm still in a weird mood since Thursday night. I'm watching episode 8 and -
Then a little bit later:
CURSE YOU 4SD FOR SPEAKING IT INTO EXISTENCE!!!!
#cr spoilers#critical role#bells hells#4 sided dive#sam riegel#taliesin jaffe#marisha ray#matthew mercer#cr fcg#fcg#original convo was about what marisha was doing backstage when laudna died#why did they speak it into existance?!?! why?!?!?
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
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We have fog like this back home. Always spooked me as a kid.
MASTERS OF THE AIR
Part Three
#motaedit#mota#masters of the air#perioddramaedit#perioddramasource#tvedit#tvgifs#hbowaredit#hbowardaily#appletvsource#austin butler#barry keoghan#gale cleven#curt biddick#userbells#userstaud#simizone#ronsparky#*#mota rewatch#god why wouldn't they think they try to speak that into existence#odds of survival are awful for them#and yet#see you in algeria#anyway love what this show did to me
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Complete DVD rips of Always Sunny seasons 1-10 are up on the Internet Archive, as well as Blu-ray rips of Season 6's bonus features. Everything is included; episode commentaries, bonus features, bloopers, deleted scenes, etc etc. all episodes soft-subbed in English, French and Spanish. Go nuts.
I'll continue adding to this archive when I can, I plan on archiving various commercials and internet exclusive content from FX's YouTube channel as well, since they've been taking various videos down lately.
#iasip#it's always sunny in philadelphia#always sunny#ada speaks#iasip extras#iasip deleted scenes#the only thing i didnt upload from the dvds were commercials for various other FX shows that were being advertised#and the first episode of archer that was included on the s5 dvd#also pspspspsps sunny video editors. use these rips. i promise theyll make your edits look uber sexy#(can confirm. ive already used them in my own and they are MILES better than anything currently existing online. that's lowkey why i did it#(use handbrake and run them through a lossless reencode with a dash of deinterlacing if your video editing software doesn't like mkv format
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every once in awhile that one anti comes up with the craziest takes on the show, just now they said Will doesn't have a dark nature, hannibal induced him...............well, okay then, you're beyond help
#like theres no point in even talking to someone who believes that bc WHAT SHOW DID YOU WATCH#antis are so cute tho cause they're these rare creatures that when u see one you're like oh hi omg didn't know u existed#then they speak n u get why they're rare lol#they have zero points its all delusion on top of delusion#idk if it's homophobia or if its that they cannot deal w their own ahadows#and they project that by being DESPERATE to make will a good guy#nbc hannibal#hannigram#hannibal#will graham#murder husbands#hannibal lecter#hugh dancy#mads mikkelsen
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لست عظيمه ،لكنني أثق انني مختلفه❤