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jeff-from-marketing · 2 years

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So... tabletop roleplaying games, they’re pretty good!

As tempting as it is to just leave the post there and refuse to elaborate, I actually do want to talk about ttrpgs, both in general as a hobby but also some specific systems. Why? Because fuck you, this is my blog and I’m going to continue to make that your problem, that’s why! As will become the norm, I make absolutely zero promises on cohesion or this making sense. You have been warned.

So yes, ttrpgs are pretty great! It’s a wonderful combination of escapism, and just doing some silly shit with friends, and for my autism brain it’s great because the rules of the world actually make sense! Usually at least, but I may or may not get to that. Real talk, I genuinely believe that for most people there is some style of ttrpg for you out there. Obviously not everything appeals to everyone, and that’s okay, but there’s so many different styles of play and so many different systems to play that there’s a good chance there’s something out there for you. It goes far beyond just Dungeons and Dragons.

Though I guess that’s probably something worth talking about. I mean to be fair it’s hard to talk about ttrpgs without talking about Dungeons and Dragons specifically, as it’s kinda the “face” of the hobby. Heck, it’s the one I started with many years ago, and to be fair it’s much easier to go “hey, wanna try out D&D?” as opposed to any other system, just due to the sheer presence it has in popular culture. For something that’s somewhat a niche hobby, it’s actually fairly impressive come to think of it. But there’s some elements of D&D (and Wizard of the Coast’s handling of it) that kinda makes me wish it wasn’t the face of ttrpgs.

To preface: if you enjoy D&D fifth edition as it is, keep enjoying it! Do not let anyone shame you for what tabletop games or similar that you enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still grateful for D&D for getting me into the hobby, without D&D and the sheer staying power it has I probably wouldn’t have gotten into the hobby to have some good times. But, especially with the trajectory it’s taking, it’s hard to go “but why are you like this” sometimes. For starters, man does WotC absolutely fucking hate DMs and supporting them at all. Not only does basically every supplement they release lately seem to be almost entirely player focused, to the point of some books being like “I guess here’s some rulings for the main draw of the setting, but you probably shouldn’t use them,” but even the prewritten adventure modules (y’know, the things meant explicitly to make a DM’s life easier and give them something to run out the box) require so much work and messing around with to get to an even functional level. The prewritten modules for D&D 5e give the person running the damn thing very little to actually work with, and basically mandate that the DM effectively do WotC’s job for them and just finish writing the other half of the module before you can run it. Compared to something like Pathfinder Second Edition, where Paizo gives you basically any detail you could possibly want when it comes to running a module, and it’s kinda shameful honestly. Especially since the DM is the most important part of playing a ttrpg. Without a DM, you have no game. And yet knowing this, WotC seem to shaft them at every turn.

I suspect this is a part of why it’s so hard to find a DM for tabletop games. Even ignoring the fact that it is definitely a different style of play than being a player, if their only experience of DMing is with either incomplete materials or having to write out huge chunks of the adventure (potentially to just set that writing on fire later) then I don’t blame them for not looking forward to doing it more. I know that doesn’t apply to everyone, and that many DMs absolutely love making up entire campaigns, but that shouldn’t be the default expectation of someone coming into the hobby. They should have something they can fall back onto.

Making matters worse is WotC’s latest approach to lore and worldbuilding. Namely, their stance of “there can’t be controversy if there’s nothing that can be controversial!” They have been on one heck of a warpath to gut out as much existing lore of their setting as possible, with entire chapters now simply just being a vague paragraph or two instead. Exemplifying this behaviour of “no lore = no controversy” is the controversy with the Hadozee, a race introduced in one of the newest (at the time of writing) books that had some questionable lore (with what little it had). Instead of addressing this in any way, WotC’s response was to simply delete the offending segment and swipe it under the rug never to be spoken of. Again, not a problem for those who would rather make their entire world to begin with, but it absolutely sucks for a newer player or for someone who would rather have a world to get immersed into out the box. Compared to so many other ttrpg systems like Cyberpunk, Lancer, and Pathfinder, all of which are so rich and full of life and a lovingly detailed setting, D&D just saddens me. I mean sure, the Forgotten Realms were never my favourite setting of all time, but it was at least a setting that had a decent amount of fleshing out and things to work with. Now there’s basically nothing, but not so little as to be truly setting agnostic.

And I’m not even going into other issues like martial classes being incredibly dull, spellcasters overshadowing everyone, the action system being difficult to balance around, etc.

I guess what I’m getting at with all of this is: D&D has a lot of power to wield, and I feel like it’s squandered. It doesn’t look after DMs at all, making them more likely to burn out if they’re not interested in massive amounts of worldbuilding, and even players it does a poor job of catering to sometimes. Sure, most people may not even realise this when first getting into it, but that almost makes it worse.

But like I said earlier, D&D is not the only system in the world. I myself have largely moved onto Pathfinder 2e for my fantasy fix as it does many of the things I wanted from D&D. Though they are very different games, I probably wouldn’t recommend Pathfinder to players new to the hobby since there’s a lot more rules covering a lot more things, and it is a bit crunchier, but that’s also why I like it myself. I like the crunchy rules for my autism brain. Plus all the rules are available for free, and oh my god it’s just so gay and full of actual rep... I may have to make a separate post on it. If you want more sci-fi, there’s also Cyberpunk for, well, cyberpunk dystopia, or there’s Lancer if you’re more into giant mechs. I could have whole rants onto those on their own... and I may do that if I feel like it.

But holy shit this has already gone on too long. Let me reiterate: if you enjoy D&D 5e and don’t feel the need to change, then keep enjoying it. The hobby is a lot of fun, and there’s many ways to have that fun! And hey, it’s still the easiest way to get people into the hobby, and if you’re like me who’s a bit jaded on it then it works as an excellent gateway drug to go “well if you like that, wait until you try this!”

#ttrpg #holy shit I typed way more than I thought I would #someone please take this power away from me for the safety of us all #send help

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textmel8r · 15 days

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try.

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak.

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass.

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail.

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in.

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance.

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips.

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him.

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.”

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around.

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other.

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle.

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline.

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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vivwritesfics · 22 days

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.5K

Series Masterlist

"Happy birthday, Stinky."

Lando opened his eyes and let out a groan. It was far too early. He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the pillow.

A hand was in his hair, brushing through his curls. "Oh, you're so cute," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Lacing her fingers through his own, she tried to pull him up. "C'mon, birthday boy. I made breakfast."

The promise of food was what coaxed him out of bed. As he stood, she threw a pair of pants at him, covering up his nakedness.

The moment she opened the bedroom door, the smell hit him. It was so damn sweet. Pancakes, waffles, French toast. It was a kids dream. "Holy fuck," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Baby, what time did you get up?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter," she said as she turned back to the stove, where more was cooking. Holy shit, he was gonna be double his body weight by the time his birthday was over.

Lando strode over to her. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't have to do all of this, baby," he whispered against her skin.

There was a moment of hesitation before she answered him. "I... this isn't like your normal birthdays, I'm sure. I still wanted to make it special."

He kissed her shoulder again. "You already have."

There was no hiding the smile she wore as she placed the newest batch of pancakes (American style this time) on the table. "Eat up," she said as she placed the pan in the sink. "I'll bring takeout home tonight, yeah?"

French toast halfway to his mouth, Lando paused. "Huh?" He asked, mouth still open, ready to take a bite. But then he put the toast back down. "What? It's my birthday," he said. "You can't leave on my birthday. That's the birthday boy's rules."

"Well, birthday boy," she began as she walked past him. "I've got work. Unless you wanna live in a cardboard box in the back alley."

For a second, Lando looked like he was contemplating it. She rolled her eyes as she headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.

The way Lando missed her when she was working was unhealthy, he knew. But over the weeks, months (he wasn't sure how long it had been, all of the days seemed to blend together), he'd found ways to entertain himself.

She'd given him complete access to her laptop. Lando had felt so guilty when he'd hijacked it, downloading programmes and logging into software to get into contact with his employees. But the fortification of his house was coming along nicely, all because she had given him her laptop.

Any day now the house would be ready, he knew. Lando wanted nothing more than to see her roaming the halls. He'd show her around, show her the office (once he'd made it his own), show her the library, the garden. He'd take her up to meet his mum, and his dad now, too.

The thought of her in his house, in his space, helping make it his own, it stirred something in him. Something that had him grabbing her waist before she could walk through the door and head out to work. "Lan!" She said in surprise as he nipped at her neck. "Calm down, birthday boy. I'll be back in a few hours."

He watched her go. But the moment the door shut, he sat on the sofa and opened the laptop.

Nobody had wished him a happy birthday, but Lando wasn't surprised. That wasn't how it worked in a family. It was business as usual, maybe a private celebration with the head of the family's partner.

This was already the best birthday Lando had ever had. He logged into the laptop, typed several different and intricate passwords into the software he had to get into.

Will and Max had left him messages, detailing what they had done to the house. You'll need to come by today and get yourself onto the system, Will had messaged.

A groan left Lando's lips. He threw his head back for just a moment, eyes shutting. Her rarely used car was parked just across the street, and Lando knew where she kept the keys. If he left how he could be back before returned from work.

Getting changed into his suit (the one she'd cleaned up for him), Lando grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. He pocketed them and made his way out to her car.

Lando hadn't been back to the house in months. It didn't look any different from the day he'd left it.

By the gate waited Max Fewtrell. He looked at Lando with a frown before using the keypad to open the gate. As the gate opened, Max climbed into the car. "This isn't yours," he said.

"Nope," Lando replied and began driving up towards the house.

Still, Max looked at him,clearly waiting for something more. Something that Lando wouldn't give unprompted. "You haven't run off and become a car thief, have you?" Max challenged. "Because that would be really bad for business."

Lando couldn't help but laugh as he pulled up to the house. "Nope, this beauty belongs to the love of my life."

Beauty. Max snorted at that. The car was anything but beautiful. "If we get everything set up today, you gonna move her in?"

Truthfully, Lando didn't know. If he'd been any other rich guy living in this huge ass house, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he wasn't just any other rich guy. His world was dangerous and he wanted her away from it. If he could have kept himself away, he would have.

Max led him to the security office. He sat Lando down in front of a bunch of monitors and began setting up the security system, coding it to his passwords and prints.

It was a long process, one I will not bore you with. Lando was nearly falling asleep by the time he was finally finished. He checked the watch on his wrist and couldn't wait to get back to her apartment, back to her. His baby.

But he wasn't quite ready yet. With Max trailing behind him, Lando walked to his bedroom.

How many mindless hookups had he had in this bed? "Get new sheets," he said and Max wrote it down. "And clear out half of my wardrobe."

Because Lando really couldn't stay away from her, could he? After spending the last few months living together, living in bliss, he couldn't imagine not waking up beside her every day.

So, Lando had his staff readying the house for her to move in. It was incredible to watch happen, all for his baby. And, as soon as that was done, he headed home, headed back to hers.

***

Things had felt normal, leaving the office. He stopped into the shops, got the birthday boy some birthday chocolates, and got some takeout for the both of them.

It was her usual route home and not too far at all. Although she lived in a sketchy area, she'd never felt unsafe on her walk home.

Until tonight.

Maybe it was paranoia. Ever since Lando had told her, she'd been a lot more wary. But she'd never felt this before, never this terrified.

She sped up her steps and quickly glanced back.

The person behind her with his hands shoved into their pockets sped up their steps, too. They crossed the street when she crossed the street and followed her around corners.

When she got to her street, she was running. She kept the takeout and the shopping held tight to her body as she legged it as fast as she could to her door.

The person behind her started running, too.

As soon as she got through the door of the apartment building, she pushed her way through and kicked it shut behind her, buying her just a few more seconds.

She managed to get her own door open before the person grabbed her. Throwing her body against the door she shut it, locked it and put the chain across.

Her chest was heaving as she dropped her bags and wandered into the kitchen. As she poured herself some water, Lando came running out of the bedroom. "Baby, what is it?" He called as he strode over.

She was shaking when Lando pulled her into his chest. "You're okay," he whispered and ran his hands through his hair. He ignored the smashed bottle of wine by the front door. "I've got you, baby."

She didn't tell him what happened that moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. Lando held her until she could and, when she did, he spent his night by the door, watching through the peephole with his gun pressed to the wood.

Tomorrow he'd get her out of here, get her somewhere safe.

a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated this one in over two weeks, my focus has been elsewhere lmao

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plussizefantasia · 29 days

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More Body, More Money

Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

warnings: Allusion to smut towards the end, references to a female body and that body being bigger

an: holy shit sorry for disappearing for so long. I make no promises as to when I'll come back as I seem to have a habit of breaking those. I've been in a Bridgerton mood recently though and typed this on my phone in like an hour so no promises that it's all that good. I will say though that I've been working on a request recently and it's currently at 4k and counting which is by far the longest fic I've ever written and I'm not even to the good part yet. I've also finished outlining the rest of the parts for my Kili x reader fic. I think that's it though, thanks for reading this far if you did and for putting up with my bs.

“Darling, could you come here a moment?” Your husband called from his desk. Recently you had taken to reading while lounging on the couch in his study. It was a great way to spend time with your busy husband while also letting him get his work done.

You didn’t exactly know what he was working on at the moment but apparently, your presence was needed to solve whatever issue he had stumbled upon. It wasn’t until you got closer to his desk that you noticed the receipts and ledgers sprawled across his desk. He was updating the families' books and tracking the spending that you and the rest of his family had done that month.

“Yes, my love?” You moved to rest your hand on his back and traced it across his shoulders and on his neck. It was as if you two were magnets, unable to keep apart for very long. If you were close enough then you would feel your hands gravitating towards him. And if the way his arm moved to rest on your back as well, he had the same urges when in proximity to you.

“I’ve noticed something odd in the charges from the modiste.” Anthony handed you the papers. Both you and Eloise had gone to the modiste at the beginning of the month to be fitted for some new gowns to prepare for her second season in the marriage mart and your first season as the Viscountess.

“I’ll admit to not being the most knowledgeable about gowns and other frivolities my love, but is it normal for the cost difference to be this large? I mean when Ben and I get new suits the price is almost always similar.” He pointed to the two prices listed on the bill from Madame Delacroix.

You didn’t know how to respond to this, you knew the reason behind the price difference between yours and Elioises dresses, of course, it was something that you had thought of already. After all, it was the same reason that your younger sister always got more gowns than you every season that the two of you attended growing up. You were larger, and as the modiste you had gone to grow up with had said “More body means more fabric means more money.” more money that your father had deemed unnecessary so you had only ever gotten one or two new dresses while your sister would be fitted for five or six of the newest and most flattering styles.

But how could you explain this to Anthony? That your dresses cost more than his sisters because you were bigger, and that meant more money.

You knew Anthony loved your body, he worshiped it often in fact but there was a difference between getting lost in the softness of your embrace and seeing the real-life sometimes the financial consequences of living in a bigger body.

“Oh, Anthony, it is uh- just a matter of resources I suppose.”

He raised a brow at you. “I’m not sure I understand. What do you mean by resources?”

“Well dear husband, you and your brother are very similar in height and build which means the two of you have very similar resource usage, whereas myself and your sister are quite different in the… resource usage department.”

“My love, I need you to speak to me as if I am an idiot.”

You deeply sighed and prepared yourself to have the conversation that you had been trying and failing to get out of. “Eloise is small, therefore it does not take as much fabric to make her dresses, whereas I am quite well endowed and my dresses require more material. More body means more fabric means more money it is as simple as that.”

“That is preposterous, are you both not getting dresses?” His tone was getting more defensive, and it warmed your heart to know that he was willing to get upset at the simple fact that Madame Delacroix had charged you more because your dress was bigger. You had expected him to be embarrassed, and deep down somewhat afraid that he would realize that he had signed himself up for these extra expenses for the rest of his life by marrying you.

“Well darling, think about it, would you expect to pay the same amount for a child as you would for yourself? Do you not pay more for your suits than you do Greg’s?”

“No, I see your point darling.”

“That is all this is my love, different sizes of clothing cost different amounts. If it is a problem I can just see about getting some of my old gowns altered to make them somewhat nicer for the new season, that way you would not have to spend as much.”

“What? No. Darling, this is not about the money, I was merely worried that that woman had tried to take advantage of you, charging you far more than Eloise for the same thing. I couldn’t care less about the money. In fact, I think you should get ten more gowns made, show everyone in the Ton that I am married to the most voluptuous, sensual, and desirable woman in the world.” He pulled you closer to him so that you were standing in between his spread knees, you still standing over him as he leaned back in his chair.

Anthony began training kisses up and down the arm that he had grasped within his hand. Turning your wrist over so that he could place one at the center of your palm.

“I do not need ten new gowns, Anthony, that is far too much.” You giggled and protested, feeling more enamored with the man you married with every word out of his mouth.

“Perhaps I shall buy you ten diamond necklaces then so that I can have an excuse to stare at your chest as often as I’d like.” You snorted and gently smacked the back of his head. “Anthony Bridgerton, that is scandalous talk and you know it.”

“Nothing is scandalous between husband and wife, especially when the two are alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and lifted the corners of his lips into a sultry grin, one that had your knees feeling weaker by the second.

“All I really need, dear husband, is you.”

A smile that you could only consider adoring spread across your husband's face.

“And I you, my love.”

“No Anthony, I need you.”

His grin turned to a full-blown smirk spreading across his face, “Well, what the Viscountess needs she gets…”

;)

#anthony bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x wife!reader #anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #plus size reader #fanfic #plus size!reader #fluff #requests open #requests wanted

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skyrussy · 8 months

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simon ghost riley having a crush on you.

* y/n is masked as well.

* first thing ive written on here. bare with me as i improve <3

• when having a crush on you ghost absolutely lingers. silent stares are his absolute specialty. debriefing after a mission? his eyes are on you. sure, he may be standing a bit far from you, but the feeling of his eyes are impossible to ignore.

• your interactions are few and far between at the beginning. however, when you do interact, ghost intends to make your interactions somewhat meaningful. never really outright flirty or affectionate, but his little appraisals never pass you by.

“you did good kid. don’t sweat it too much.” followed by a pat on the shoulder and a lack of eye contact before walking away.

“impressive. keep it up soldier.” after watching you take down a man twice your size. ( he found that very attractive but would never allow that to be known. )

• of course they were always a bit quiet and mumbled, but he never even spoke to the 141 that way. his small praises were his little way of letting you know that he’s watching, and he cares.

• slowly but surely your short but sweet interactions began to be something you looked forward to. as months passed you happened to “bump into each other” a bit more than usual and his lingering became a lot more common.

• in the common room he would always stand behind you as you sat, never too close for comfort, although you wouldn’t have necessarily minded if he had moved closer.

• his quick glances that he used to send your way when you walked into a room turned into lingering stares, prolonged eye contact.

• ghost, not very quick to show affection found himself calling you “sweetheart”. at first he almost slapped himself for calling you that, but after seeing the slight smirk form on you face after he did, you really did become “sweetheart” permanently.

• you found yourself, previously a bit more quiet and closed off, becoming comfortable in his presence. choosing to be near him on missions, sitting next to him any chance you got.

• the type of bond you had was one that came quite effortlessly. neither of you were too chatty anyways. silent nods, soft quick touches, a soft hand on your back to guide you, a gentle rub on his shoulder. quiet affection.

• soon enough, it became known that were ghost was, you were often near and vice versa. your quiet touches became louder over the months. a hand on your thigh, arms around his shoulders as he sat, soft smiles underneath masks.

• the day he realized he had fallen in love with you happened 2 years later ( although he always had been, just never allowed himself to acknowledge it. )

• the task force needed a decoy for a mission, someone who could seduce & distract a sergeant of another force. you had to wear a tight red dress, something eye catching, and of course, your mask had to go. you felt nauseous at the idea, especially knowing that no one on the force had seen your face or your true form.

• nonetheless this job is your life. it’s this or nothing.

• you when ghost saw you enter the room, he felt every bit of air in his lungs disappear. every single thought in his mind dissipated completely.

“holy shit..” he mumbled.

• it was the first night he realized how badly he wanted to protect you. the way that the guys in 141 ogled you. the way the surrounding men glanced at you up and down.

• he knew you could hold your own, but the thought of letting anyone have the privilege of experiencing such a sophisticated, patient soul undoubtedly made him shudder.

• once the mission had been completed, you had sustained injuries from your lack of gear and weaponry. he looked at you sitting on the floor breathlessly, hair in front of your face, body slick with a slight sheen of sweat. you had blood trailing down half of your face and marks that were sure to bruise.

• he quickly made his way to you, and you stared up at him. you smiled.

• it was the first time a smile from any single person had made the brute of a man want to melt into a fucking puddle. you looked fearless.

“i did it.” you said laughing a bit.

“christ sweetheart, you did. come on. let’s get you out of here.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost fanfiction #simon x reader #fanfic #simon ghost x you #konig x reader

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inconspicious-random-thoughts · 4 months

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Broken staff

It more than likely been mentioned elsewhere but I want to talk about Alastor staff.

Vivienne mention the staff is part of his essence. Now it is split into two along with a deep gash from holy power across Alastor torso. He made sure to salvage the broken pieces before shadowing away.

I REALLY hope they do more angsty shit next season with this. Alastor power is severely weaken until he recuperates. That Alastor is covering this vulnerability from the others. Notice in that group hug, his obvious tattered clothes and gash is hidden and he back to his 'normal self' facade after his chilling and rattled part of the song. No one knows how Alastor battle went....except for the Vees. Dun Dun DUUUUUN.

I would love to watch Alastor trying to power play, manipulate and figure out his freedom. All the while hiding his weaken state. It frustrates Alastor greatly as healing seem agonizing slow. Because holy wounds heal slower or some BS like that. The hotel constantly rely on his powers that he would still provide and he continue to use his reserves to cover up his secret.

Husker was the first to notice something up. Be as observant and ability to read people, and just know Alastor. He catches the momently grimace is Alastor moved his torso wrong or an involuntary flinch, clutching his chest in pain. But Alastor recovers these moments quickly. It's in a blink of an eye type movements, that only Husker catches. It's all so obvious to Husker. The extra strain smile when Alastor performs magic. How exhausted from the exertion afterwards. Husker keeps a wary eye on him but doesn't say anything. We know what happen last time he brought up a touchy subject before.

Charlie was next to notice but it took a while. It took some obvious clues. Something like Alastor faceplants to the ground unconscious from over exhaustion after a more complicated spell. Or maybe some more dramatic...

The Vee's. They know Alastor took heavy hits. They will use that to their advantage. They possibly make a move against him and he unable to defend properly. Vox would be mocking loudly what he witness, revealing Alastor secret to the hotel. Naturally, Charlie would be hurt with a "Why didn't you tell us?" after a gasp.

I really hope they do something with it. It doesn't have to be a full season arc, they can probably even manage it in one episode as a focus with subtle clues from a few episode before it.

I be so annoyed Alastor bounce back like his fight with Adam never happened. I am a sucker of Alastor barely keeping it together and nearly losing his shit. HE. IS. BARELY.KEEPING.IT.TOGETHER. But he still keeping together...we haven't see him break yet. Can you imagine the weight of stress finally breaking him?

His staff (which is part of him) is splint in two. Just like how is internal conflicting dilemma of being powerful sociopath demon with a plan vs growing affections of the residence of hotel that complicates his plans.

All of his careful planning will go to shit, he will lose all control-He going to absolutely alone when he finally breaks down from losing control of everything and the audience will see him drop that smile.

He mention to Charlie that a smile is a way to keep control and that's when we see him drop his. As much he careful with control he doesn't even control his own soul.

Edit:

Omg, So when I originally wrote this, I knew staff was incorrect word I want to use but at the time I kept drawing a blank what to call it.

It's a cane

A cane is something be used to support themselves with, a crutch. And Alastors just splint in half. The thing that's also part of his essence and probably help channel/control his powers.

The angsty poetry is fucken delicious

~I am nearly foaming from the mouth from the thought!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel spoilers

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dr3c0mix · 1 year

Note

could you ever try writing a poly between 3 vampires and male reader? like, reader is a painter and the vampires ask him to paint them something while in their house, and is just.. evolves. sorry if it doesn't make sense

Love Bites

Poly!Vampires x Male!Painter!Reader

CW: implied kidnapping, murder, implied vampirism

holy shit this is like one of the chillest fics ive made so far :0 anyways enjoy the funny vampire men !!

🌙 You always had a knack for finding beauty in everything, from the calming dance of raindrops amongst the smell of petrichor or the lovely reds and oranges of the fall when the leaves withered.

🌙 It was very handy considering what you did for fun.

🌙 You loved to paint, anything and everything you saw was inspiration for you. After a long day of delivering bread and pastries to the people in your village from your bakery, you would run up to your room and continue on the latest masterpiece you were working on.

🌙 Everyone in the village loved your work, many of them paying you for a painting of their own.

🌙 Life was simple and calm, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

🌙 But life decided fuck that bullshit.

🌙 Rumors and whispers filled the streets of the town, it wasn't like the usual talk like someone's daughter getting married or the like, it was much more...unusual.

🌙 News spread from neighboring towns of coffins being found unearthed and opened, shadowy figures roaming around in the late hours of the night, and bodies being found in the morning, drained from their blood.

🌙 It was a terrifying thought, but you didn't dwell upon it, you weren't the type to believe such rumors so easily, and yet a feeling of uneasiness lingered within your soul.

🌙 Your town was no longer the vibrant, happy place it once was before. Windows that once had lovely flowers and laundry lines hung on them were shut day and night, the busy streets you once traversed were covered in a gloomy fog. It really was like an evil has brought itself to your home.

🌙 Or should I say evils?

🌙 In the midst of all the tension, 3 men came to your town. Eccentric was an understatement when describing them, it was like the horrors and whispers of death and murder didn't faze them a bit.

🌙 Even so, you were happy to see something other than terrified faces and panicked expressions.

🌙 You greeted them politely during a cloudy day and noticed how covered they were. One had a large hat on, the other draped in a black cloak and the last holding a parasol that shrouded him in darkness.

🌙 "Good afternoon to you too, me and my friends here are just visiting this quaint little village, how uhm...calm..it is here..hah.."

🌙 The cloaked one chuckled whilst looking to the empty streets.

🌙 "My, my! Aren't you that famous painter I've been hearing about! I'd love to get a painting done from you, but it seems everyone here is quite busy with other things.." says the one in the hat.

🌙 "Oh no! I'd love to paint for you! Come, let's talk more in my bakery. Painting is more of a secondary job for me." You guide the men to your home as you hear the cawing of crows overhead.

🌙 Days pass and you grow closer to the men. You learned that their names were Viktor, Garrick and Silas.

🌙 Viktor had long, silky hair the color of raven's feathers. His eyes shone like two rubies in the dim light of the lanterns you lit around the house. He wore a black cape which hid a wine-red vest.

🌙 He was a gentleman and had a love for poetry. He would recite his favorites to you as you painted next to him. One interesting thing you learned was that he's scared of mice. 'Dreadful things' he calls them, you found it quite adorable once when you two were talking and he suddenly squealed and pulled his feet up at the sight of a small mouse crawling passed your floors. His face, although still as pale as the moon, turned into a light red.

🌙 Garrick had messy, dark hair. His fingers were always adorned with golden rings, and he wore a somewhat stained white, ruffled shirt, you can't tell what it's stained with though. His eyes were a deep purple, one of them covered by his locks. He was unusually flirtatious with you. You joked how he should be courting women, not a baker's son such as yourself, but he whined and cooed how irresistible you were to him, why wouldn't he be interested in a boy like you!

🌙 Silas is a bit darker skinned than the others, who were unusually pale. he had round black glasses and silver hair under a dark hat. Over his shoulders draped a coat, you weren't able to decipher what he kept under it, only that they were vials of strange substances. His eyes were the color of amber, like the hues of leaves that fell in the autumn. Rather shy, he was, always looking away from your eyes whenever he talked with you. He had an interest in flowers, always handing you one whenever he visited for inspiration purposes of course...

🌙 You wouldn't notice it at first, but they've gotten quite a liking to you, protective even. They would always check up on you, if you've been eating, who you've talked to today, things like that.

🌙 It was only until they scared off a young lady for making small talk with you that you started to notice something was off about them.

🌙 When you heard the next day her body was found dead with bite marks on her neck and drained of her blood, you started to worry.

🌙 You started avoided them after that, making excuses to not invite them over to your bakery, walking the other way the moment you see them down the street. They noticed your strange behavior towards them and knew something was wrong with you.

🌙 They didn't buy your silly act at all...

🌙 "You just had to leave the body there, didn't you?!"

🌙 "What? It's fun seeing them all scared and panicky!"

🌙 "Hahah yes but uhm...there's no food out anymore..."

🌙 You heard their voices by your door during the late hours of the night. The feeling that your new friends were not what they seem festered in your mind, but your kind nature overrode your fear and you opened your door.

🌙 "Hey! It's dangerous out there! Do you want to be gutted or something?"

🌙 The 3 of them were walking along the moonlit streets when they heard your voice.

🌙 "A-Ah! Yes! Uhm...of course, excuse us, we just came back from uh..."

🌙 "A pub-"

🌙 "A pub! Yes! And we've somehow lost our way! Could you, by chance, let us stay the night? Our inn is particularly far you see.."

🌙 You unlocked your door and let the 3 gentlemen in, going to the kitchen to warm up some bread and tea for them.

🌙 "Make yourselves at home! Apologies for the mess, I been really busy lately..." you say sweetly. Viktor nods with a smile and they all sit down, whispering softly amongst one another.

🌙 As you wait for the tea to warm, you get a good look at the 3 men.

🌙 Pale skin, pointed ears, not to mention their eyes, they have to be. You had to stop yourself from gasping when Garrick laughed, revealing his sharp fangs. Fear bubbled in your stomach once more until you heard the whistle of your kettle.

🌙 After giving them their tea, you feigned a yawn and told them you were off to bed, giving directions to the spare quarters before going in your room and waiting by your door for any sounds, grabbing a broken paintbrush you accidentally snapped, a makeshift wooden stake..

🌙 You then hear the men climbing the stairs, a conversation being exchanged between them.

🌙 "Shame we must drink from him now, he was such a darling though.."

🌙 "Oh, but I believe I'm quite well off with those wonderful treats he offered us. It's a mystery how someone as wonderful as him isn' married yet..."

🌙 "Unfortunate as it is, I don't think it would be in our best interest if the boy lives.."

🌙 Your heart pounded faster as you heard them talk about you. Your hunch was true, these men are the demons that have ravaged your town. You scrambled to your bed as you hear them walk to your room.

🌙 Your door creaks open as you grip your blanket tight. Footsteps approach you as you feel a dip in the bed.

🌙 "I can hear your cute little heartbeat darling~ I know you're awake~" You hear Viktor purr, tears start to well up in your eyes as they open.

🌙 A hand caresses your cheek and brushes your hair away from your face. You brace yourself as you feel Viktor's cold breath near your neck. You dare not move lest the beast lying next to you devour you whole.

🌙 "Do we have to Viktor?" You hear Silas say in a sorrowful tone.

🌙 "I'm with Silas with this one, why can't we just..I don't know, bring him with us?"

🌙 Viktor pulls back as he pauses for a moment. You could hear the smirk on his face when he chuckles. "Actually, that's not a bad idea Garrick.."

🌙 The next morning, the townspeople saw that your front door was wide open, a window or two was broken and paintings that hung on every wall was gone. There was no sign of you. The only thing that remained was a stain of blood on your bed and claw marks on the walls of your bedroom...

oOOoOooooOo cliffhanger or whatever :00000 part 2 soon !! sorry this one took so long, i had a hard time with the story and such..

And as usual, gay men doodles <3

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duke-daemon · 4 months

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hazbin hotel redesigns wooooooooo

okay so. i'm gonna discuss my thoughts about them n shit, putting under a readmore bc it's gonna get long and rambley. sorry in advance for the shit formatting, i'm on mobile </3

just some general shit about how i would rewrite it. i think the premise of redeeming sinners is entertaining but is executed horribly. i also am a fan of the "heaven isn't great either" idea but again, executed horribly. i'd make the hierarchy of angels more accurate because it's cool as hell and i have autism about it. the characters from hell would swear still (albeit not as much), but the angels would outright refuse to swear or make vulgar jokes ever. this would be partially to further the gap between heaven and hell and make the differences more stark.

hell would also be more like dante's inferno (again because i think its cool). the ars goetia would get a full redesign and would be more prevalent in demonic society.

now for the characters!

---

VAGGIE VALTIEL:

starting off with vaggie, or Valtiel as i've renamed her because let's be honest her original name sucks. Valtiel (Val for short) was an aspiring power angel who wanted to be an exorcist. she looked up to lute and thought the idea of killing demons was really cool and badass. however when she actually was on the field for the first time she discovered how awful this actually was. she tried to help a few demons but lute figured it out and felled her right then and there. the rest of her story is relatively the same. personality wise she's more stoic and less prone to all-out aggression. she still get angry, sure, but it's in a quieter and more menacing way. you DO NOT want to fuck with Valtiel.

CHARLIE:

next up is charlie! i had two ideas for her. the first one (unsettling drawing) has her as a mannequin/doll type demon. lucifer and/or lilith was unable to conceive and as such they built a kid from scratch. she's overall similar to og charlie personality wise, very kind and cheerful despite her unsettling appearance. she struggles with empathy sometimes but really does mean well. her motive for rehabilitating sinners is so they get to see their family again. being able to see heaven from where they are in hell must make them sad, so she wants to help make them happy again!

the second idea for charlie has her as an angel. specifically i casted her as a dominion angel due to their reputation as holy judges. she was once a demon but has been rehabilitated and has risen into angelhood! she now wants to help her former kin do the same and redeem themselves in heaven's gaze. again, similar cheery personality, but a bit more prudish in this rendition

tangent time!

as a side tangent, valtiel and charlie would have a different relationship in this rewrite. their relationship felt shoehorned in in the original show, like it was just there for the hell of it. we didn't see much development between them and it just felt kinda bland. so in my rewrite, charlie and valtiel are amiable exes. they tried dating when valtiel first fell (when charlie was still a demon in the charlie-angel version) but realized their feelings for each other were much more platonic than romantic. they ended things off on good terms, deciding they were much better as friends. they are still besties to this day! later charlie ends up with emily (or 'ellie' as i plan to rename her)

back to the characters

Alastor:

note: i made alastor mixed-race, which could be seen as bad by some due to vivzie saying he's black. however, as many have pointed out, he has no ethnic features whatsoever and i honestly wouldn't be surprised if she said that just to get away with using voodoo symbols (a closed religion) in his imagery/design. like viv, i am incredibly white and have little to no knowledge of voodoo, and even if i did i would not use it for something like this anyways due to the stigma the religion already has and (again) it being a closed practice. as such i removed it from his concept altogether, but made him mixed race (white passing) because.. why not i guess, i forgor my actual reasoning

with that being said...

alastor is by far my favorite of the redesigns and i'm honestly tempted to turn him into a legally distinct oc. i imagine he's somewhat reserved, along the lines of norman bates albeit a bit more extroverted. during his life he was a serial killer with a day job as a radio announcer. he took pleasure in reporting about his own murders on the radio, but that is eventually what got him caught (ie accidentally letting slip info that wasn't released to the public). as a result he was sentenced to death. upon arriving in hell, he quickly rose through the ranks to borderline overlord status and is a feared presence by demons and sinners alike. why is he bothering to assist in the hotel project? who knows... his motives are a mystery, like the rest of what he does

(he isn't actually alastair crowley i just thought the naming convention was ironic. however he may have also dabbled with satanic magic in lifetime..)

Angel Dust:

TW: brief discussion of SA

this is definitely my second favorite redesign. i loooove insect themes and wanted to do more than just Extra Arms, so he now has fucked up legs and a lot of eyes too! story-wise, angel used to be a criminal mastermind, hated by both the mafia and the feds. he was a gentleman thief, arranging massive heists under the cover of night while also partaking in the occasional drag show. he ended up a cocaine addict later in life, which caused his work to become sloppier. eventually he was killed in a heist gone wrong, specifically shot by the police.

i'm not gonna go too in-depth on the SA part of his story, but he is hypersexual due to being assaulted in both his life and afterlife. it would be something he'd be working on in the rewrite. his reason for coming to the hotel in the first place may have even been for help with this trauma. underneath his sultry exterior is a broken guy who really just needs someone to care about him for who he really is and not for what his body can do.

LUTE:

so lute and adam are some of the characters i have the most gripes about. the biggest one being why viv chose adam as the leader of the exorcists in the first place. if she wants a biblical figure tied to demon killing, Archangel Michael is RIGHT THERE, aka the one destined to kill satan during the events of Revelations. if she wants the first human to die, that would be Abel, not Adam. and i kinda doubt abel would want to do the stuff that HH!adam has been doing. if she wants an angel related to torture, Dumah is her guy! an angel that rules over wicked souls and tortures sinners every day except sabbath. so many better options...

with that out of the way, Lute is still the lieutenant of the exorcist, who are a specially chosen group of powers sent to purge hell once a year. think navy seals. she's pretty much the same as in the show, albeit more muscular and visually different from other exorcists (seriously why do they all look exactly the same?????) she's a very repressed lesbian who hasn't had time to work on that due to her duties

i also redesigned the exorcist uniform/armor because those LED purge masks are fugly as hell and their clothes don't even look remotely like armor.

Adam + Final Thoughts

i did start a redesign of adam but got bored of it. regardless, i think he'd be the head of C.H.E.R.U.B. instead of the exorcists. he doesn't want his children to make the same mistakes he and eve did, so together they started C.H.E.R.U.B. to help lost souls stay out of hell

final thoughts uhhhh i'm tired. show sucks, it had so much potential but viv ruined it by being a shitty writer and an even shittier person. the designs are fine i guess but they all look exactly the same and are in desperate need of variety. the humor is dogshit, saying dick and balls and penis over and over and over again doesn't make it any funnier than the first three times you made that joke. anyways that's it, i hope you liked my inane ramblings. gonna go vanish for another forty years or so, adios

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rogueddie · 4 months

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A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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steveharringtonat3am · 3 months

Text

Rhythmic romance | drummer!steve harrington x reader | 18+

summary: Robin's drummer friend is hot. What else were you supposed to do? [1.8k]

warnings: SMUT 18+, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of birth control

✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩

You did not want to be at a bar right now. You couldn’t wait to get home, get into bed, and crochet with a sitcom playing in the background until you eventually fell asleep. But it was your best friends’ birthday, so you sucked it up. She insisted on coming to see this band in the sketchiest dive bar you had ever stepped foot in. It was way too crowded and you regret not throwing her a party in your apartment. But from what you can hear, the music is pretty good.

“Here!” Robin hands you a glass of club soda. Being the designated driver was normally fine with you but the pounding music makes you envy her cosmopolitan. She begins pulling you closer to the band and you try to pretend your eardrums aren’t about to burst.

“It’s good!” You nod at her when she looks for your approval. She had mentioned something about knowing the lead singer and the drummer. How? You couldn’t remember the details as they hit a high note louder than you thought possible.

‘Corroded Coffin’ is etched on the front of the drums. It’s actually a pretty cool name. You’re about to ask Robin about it when your eyes drift further and your jaw nearly drops.

Holy shit, the drummer is hot.

So hot, you almost can’t think for a second. He’s sweating from the lights, tanned skin and muscle showing through his white t-shirt that’s almost translucent from the sweat. His gorgeous brown hair is all over the place as he tosses his head back to get some out of his eyes. He’s focused on the beat as his tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly.

You could kill Robin for hiding him from you.

The set feels like it takes forever. Halfway through, Robin tugs you over to a booth where the volume has slightly decreased.

“You said you know the drummer?” You try not to be obvious but she sees right through you.

“You like him, don’t you? He’s a loser you know that right? Like a major loser.” She exaggerates in an obvious way that makes you smile.

“You should have seen this coming. He’s exactly my type.” You grin as you sip your drink and she sighs.

“I know but I hoped you would have higher standards.”

“You do realize he’s your friend right?” That is already a green flag in your mind. No way Robin would be friends with a douche so at the very least he’s nice.

“…Alright fine. Honestly, you two would probably get along well.” She shrugs. Before you can ask much about him though, your eyes lock with his.

“Hey, Rob!” The one with long dark hair greets her as you and the drummer simply look at each other. He’s even prettier up close and you really wanna reach over and fix his hair.

“Hi, Eddie! Hi doofus.” She pushes the drummer on the shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

“Hi, Robin. Did you like the set?” He asks as you pretend your drink is incredibly fascinating.

“Yeah! We both liked it.” She introduces you quickly, putting the name Steve to the face. He reaches out to shake your hand. The contact sends a shiver down your spine but luckily he doesn’t notice. They each slide into the booth, Steve next to you and Eddie next to Robin. You try not to focus too much on his thigh pressed against yours but the warmth of him mixed with his intoxicating cologne is almost too much for you.

The more you get to know Eddie and Steve, the more you understand why Robin was friends with them. Eddie was so funny and nice. Steve was perfect. Kind, has a good sense of humour and is just incredible.

It also helped that he had his hand on your bare thigh.

He had been laughing at something you said, pushing his hair back before letting his hand fall onto your skin, and rubbing it with his thumb. He doesn’t look at you as he does but you swear his smile grows when you tense a bit next to him.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stands to let you out, eyes running over you as you walk past him.

The hallways leading to the bathrooms feel like a different, quieter world so you take a moment to yourself. You liked Steve. But you didn’t even know how he felt about you. And you didn’t want this to be some one-night hookup.

“Hey.” As if you summoned him, Steve is walking up to you. He stops in front of where you’re leaning against the wall, caging you in.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he leans in close. Maybe he’s doing it to hear you better but you like to think it’s just to get closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just needed a break from all that, you know?” You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as he nods.

“Course. Though, I gotta say I liked having such a pretty face watching me play. Should come to more shows.” You can’t tell who’s moving, but he’s closer than he was before.

“You gonna give me a reason to?” The teasing smile sends him over the edge as he presses his lips against yours. You melt into it as he steps closer to press you against the wall. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss gets sloppier.

“C’mere.” He breaks the kiss for a second to tug you into the unisex bathroom, locking the door and immediately pressing you against it. You grin into the kiss as your fingers slip through his curly brown locks.

“Gonna let me fuck you in this bar? That desperate for me?” He teases in a way that soaks your panties more than you thought possible.

“L-like you don’t want it just as bad.” You pant, already chasing his lips again. He tugs you over to the sink and pushes you up so you’re sitting on the counter. He’s impossibly close now as your skirt rides up. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh but you’re too focused on his wandering hands, going from your hips to your sides to your ass.

The moan that slips out when he squeezes the flesh would be embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate for him. His hands slip to your thighs, rubbing up and down. His fingers brush the edges of the lace and he pulls away from your sloppy makeout to look into your eyes.

“Can I take these off?” His eyes are even prettier clouded with lust. You nod quickly in response and he wastes no time, sliding the fabric down your thighs and pushing it into his pocket. Your comment on that is stifled as he kisses your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider for him and try to ignore the feel of his smirk as his tongue runs up and down your slit.

“Come on Steve!” You whine as you tug his hair. He moans at the feeling and the vibration makes you squirm. Luckily, his grip is iron, so you don’t fall. He continues to lap at you and your orgasm starts to build. Unluckily, this is where he chooses to pull away and stand.

“N-no come on I was close!” You pout at his Cheshire grin.

“I know sweetheart but I need to fuck you. That alright with you?” One look at the bulge in his pants tells you all you need to know.

“Absolutely.” You tug at his belt, undoing it as quickly as possible. He helps with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free to slap his stomach and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

Gods, he’s huge.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on the pill and…you seem clean.” You can’t think straight at this point. Your pussy aches for him to fuck you.

“I am. M’not gonna say no to fucking you raw. God you look hot.” You could orgasm right there but then he’s stepping closer and pressing his fat tip into you.

“Holy-” You grab onto his arm, pressing your face into his shoulder as he sinks in deeper. He hums in acknowledgement, easing in nice and slow.

By the time he’s balls deep, you might be seeing stars but you’d happily die in this moment.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He mumbles into your ear with a tenderness you don’t expect from a bar fuck. But you suppose Steve wasn’t just any bar fuck.

“Y-yeah. You can move.” You’re pressed together so tight you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

As he starts to fuck you, you press a fist into your mouth to avoid moaning too loud. He quickly ups his pace, pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of skin slapping is sinful but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Holy shit Steve just like that!” You moan into him, holding onto his arms for dear life. He’s making such pretty noises.

“Feel so-fuck-so good sweetheart.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, moaning when you clench around him. Both your mouths and chins are covered in saliva but as his thumb runs over your clit, all thoughts go out the window.

“G-god I’m so close Steve.” You’re so close to the edge that it hurts.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He slams into you one more time and you’re seeing stars as pleasure overtakes you. It’s enough to make him cum too, pulling out to paint your thighs with his cum.

You both pant in silence for a second, your head resting against his chest. When you’ve both caught your breath you manage to look at him. He looks as if he’s just come off stage, only less sweaty. You can’t imagine you look any better but the look in his eyes almost convinces you otherwise.

“I-I’ll go out first.” He offers hands quickly fixing your hair into place before stepping away to help you down. Your legs are wobbly but you manage.

“Steve wh-” He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, with none of the lust from before but just as much passion.

“I’ll take you on a proper date soon okay? I promise.” He kisses your cheek once more before slipping out the door. You rest against the cold porcelain as you mull over what just happened.

You’re gonna have to get Robin one hell of a birthday gift.

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writingstoraes · 11 months

Text

no way 📹

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reporter!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: i want to say thank you for 1.5k! thank u for all the love you guys have been giving me and my works hehe <3 i really appreciate all notes, reblogs, replies, and messages hehe much love to everyone reading this! ❤️

about: fans notice how charles loses his senses when you're interviewing him, but they don't believe he has enough courage to do something about it!

yourusername

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, and 563,103 others

yourusername Back in the paddock once again 🎤

norristri not charles liking this within a minute of being posted 😭😭

ferrari1655 not surprised if he has her notifs on tbh he's just as whipped for her as we are

mercmilton THE it girl of the paddock i don't make the rules!

c2champs y/n please do some content with charles and carlos i am begging

charles_leclerc ❤️

hamilnicos u a grown ass handsome man surely you can do more than just a red heart

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, estebanocon, and 431,025 others

yourusername Some paddock coverage this week 👩‍💻

chacha16 oh i just know charles is fuming y/n interviews everyone often but him 😭

sainzstappen all he had with her was one post-race interview and he was down bad already and STUTTERING lecstulips she had him giggling and shit while talking about his rear tyre failure prior to qualifying its so funny 😭

paddockgirlie Charles has once again beaten me to liking Y/N's post he is like lightning oh my god

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

chacha16 the two hearts is sending me charles im so sorry HHHDDBHFBHFBH

rbrwinners you dropped this queen 👑

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 540,195 others

yourusername Covering and reporting this week's race from the garage of a certain Italian racing team ❤️

Can't wait for you guys to watch the contents we had prepared!

charles_leclerc We loved having you here! ❤️

sainzbaby lose the "we" charles we all know it was just you

hamilecs ITS HAPPENING OH MY GOD CHARLES GET UP

gaslysgirlie i love how charles is just fuelling the agenda that he has a crush on y/n he's not even trying to be discreet

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly, and 302,294 others

yourusername Some outtakes from today! Had a nice time filming with charles_leclerc and carlossainz55 of Ferrari ❤️

charles_leclerc Til next time, Y/N! :)

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ ilpredesti the smiley face oh hes so adorable

lecsmilton i just KNOW charles is having a field day rn

c2foreva we are getting more of flustered charles then 😭

44sainz we love you queen we can't wait 🙏

ynlover

liked by charles_leclerc, wagf1s, 44fan4, and 1,203 others

ynlover Charles and Carlos with Y/N today 🥰

lestappenthusiast WHY IS CHARLES HEREHFBFBHH

hamilnorris charles liked?????

loverfineline they're both winking 😭😭😭

rbrmercs now a y/n fan account is the last place i thought charles would be

YouTube, now playing: C2 Takes On 2 Challenges with Y/N!

6,372 comments

suckerforcharles: WHEN THE HELL DID CHARLES GET SO BOLD

1655sainz: holy shit i was not expecting that 😭

ricciardotauri: all yall kept saying charles had no rizz whatsoever and he decided to prove u guys wrong im crying

c2luvah: OK I TAKE IT BACK charles has got some moves in him

f1fanatic: what did y/n mean with "finally" like miss girl were u waiting too 🤭

olliefans: Carlos saying Charles is Y/N's favorite?? omg

6,501 comments

sainzmilton: I bet Carlos can't believe they're flirting right in front of his salad

lecslover: NOT Y/N FLIRTING TOO?????

luvroscoe: i'm shocked how charles didn't faint when y/n said that cause

sports55: y/n please flirt with me like that too queen 😣

6,712 comments

lewiswdc: y/n so much better than me i would have dropped dead if charles said that to me

supermaxmax: who the hell gave charles all this rizz and why was he hiding it DAMN MAN

fan2345: I am not an F1 fan but I am so invested in this I wonder if they're actually going to push through with this date 🤨

taytayrep: charles got his head in the game fr

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, pierregasly, and 1,204,582 others

charles_leclerc There really was a great restaurant downtown.

sainzznorris I CANT BREATHEEEEEE

carlandos what a lucky man y/n is so pretty 😣

scuderiazz we're glad you finally got the courage to ask her out, king!

paddock5516 ouuu those interviews with her are so gonna hit from now on

carlossainz55 You know I let you win, right?

charles_leclerc Stop ruining this for me

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @fdl305, @iloveyou3000morgan, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant, @ang3licho3, @pitlanebabe, @riverdalexvixens, @msliz (if anyone else wants to be a part of my taglist, pls lmk by replying or sending me a message hehe)

notes: thank u so much for reading <3

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silent-stories · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟏

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Dustin convinces Eddie, who is always watching you from a distance, to talk to you.

Eddie hated the way his gaze was always looking for you in the school parking lot, hoping you'd arrived a few minutes early so he could watch you from afar.

He couldn't stop it, he could try to hold back but it was useless, he always found himself looking around hoping to hear your laugh at something stupid that Buckley, who you usually drove to school in your car, had said.

Eddie wasn't the shy type: he walked the cafeteria tables making speeches and always said what he thought. But with you?

All he could do was watch you from afar.

"Dude, you're doing it again." Dustin's voice distracted Eddie from his usual search.

"Doing what?" he asked, sounding a lot more guilty than he intended.

He had been caught.

"You are looking for Y/N." The boy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why would I?" Eddie shrugged as if to dismiss the conversation before leaning back against his van.

"Because you like her."

"What? No, absolutely not. We're…I don't even know if she considers me a friend. We're acquaintances. We just know each other. We only have one class together and we've only talked a few times so-"

Three times.

It had been exactly three times you had spoken to Eddie, he remembered them all very well, as well as the way his heart started beating so much faster than usual.

The first time you bumped into him in the hallway. Eddie had initially thought it was someone who did it on purpose, as it usually happened with jogs, but when he heard your immediate apology and from the way you said it was your fault, he understood that you would never do it on purpose.

He quickly realized that you weren't like most of the others at school and that you didn't see him as someone to stay away from and that had only made Eddie fall for you even more.

The second time was during history class, the only one Eddie had with you, that day you arrived five minutes late, having to sit in the only seat left free: the one next to Eddie.

After a few minutes that he had spent sketching in his only notebook trying not to go crazy because of your proximity, you spoke, or rather, whispered.

"I like dragons."

Eddie raised his head as a shy smile appeared on his lips to find your gaze on the dragon he had drawn in his notebook.

He mumbled a "yeah, I like them too" before the teacher turned to you and glared at him.

He didn't say anything for the rest of the lesson but since that day he had always hoped you'd be a few minutes late so you would sit next to him.

It had never happened.

The third time was the only time you really had a conversation with him. You picked up Dustin after a D&D campaign and you spent ten minutes talking to Eddie before you left.

To Eddie's amazement, you two started talking about Metallica. You mentioned that your dad occasionally listened to them and you started the conversation by talking about which songs you knew and which ones you liked more.

Before you left, you talked about how boring math was and how much you enjoyed art class and during all the time you had spent talking a faint smile was permanent on Eddie's lips.

That was all. Only ten minutes.

It had been the shortest ten minutes of his life and Eddie wished you'd stay there and talk to him for hours.

Dustin laughed at the way his friend seemed to lose the ability to form meaningful sentences whenever you were involved.

"Holy shit, you're in love with her."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Eddie sighed, he couldn't deny it anymore. "Henderson, if you tell anyone, consider yourself expelled from the Hellfire Club for the rest of your life."

Dustin adjusted the cap on his head. "Your secret is safe with me. Anyway, Y/N is cool. You should tell her."

Eddie let out a bitter laugh. "For what? To hear her say she wouldn't be with Eddie "the freak" Munson even if I were the last person on the face of the earth? No thanks, I'd rather keep watching her from afar."

"You know she's not like that." Dustin said. "She doesn't judge. Trust me, she was my babysitter for almost three years when I was in middle school, I know her well enough to know that she's a good person, she would never laugh at you and she's a completely badass."

And Eddie knew it. He knew you were kind and funny and so fucking pretty. And that was why the chances he had with you were almost inexistent.

Just as he was about to answer, he saw you.

You walked in his direction, wearing a leather jacket that was a few sizes larger but still looked perfectly on and Eddie nearly felt his heart leap out of his chest.

"Uuh... do you want me to leave you two alone?" Dustin asked with a smirk.

"Don't even try." He retorted, nudging the boy before you reached them.

"Hi" You smiled. "Have you seen Mike by any chance?"

Eddie shook his head. Why were you looking for Wheeler?

"He got into class early, he had to get something." Dustin said.

You rummaged in your bag and pulled out a book. "Nancy was at my house yesterday and she forgot this, could you give it to Mike so he can give it back to her?"

Dustin grabbed the book. "Sure."

"Great. Thank you." You said before a voice called you from behind.

"Y/N, we'll be late for art class!"

Art, right. It was your favorite subject, Eddie remembered that.

But it wasn't Robin who had spoken.

He was a tall boy, with dark blond hair long enough to show his soft curls. His eyes were green and glittered in the morning sun and he was wearing a clean, light blue jacket. His boy-next-door face annoyed Eddie, or maybe it was just the way he was interrupting a moment when he would have a chance to talk to you.

"See you guys." You said before walking towards him.

He put his arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side.

He was your boyfriend.

You had a boyfriend.

Suddenly Eddie was finding it hard to breathe. Of course you had a boyfriend, he'd been a stupid not to think of it before: a girl like you had to have a boyfriend.

And that guy seemed to be the complete opposite of Eddie.

He was also probably rich and had great grades in school. Because those were the kind of guys you liked, right? Certainly not the ones like Eddie. Those who were lucky if they didn't find the words "freak" or "devil" engraved on their locker. Those who had to park further away from school hoping that no one punctured their wheels. The ones who lived in a trailer and had to sell drugs to make ends meet.

"No." Dustin said.

"No what?" He raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his hurt expression.

"He's not her boyfriend, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking about anything at all."

Thank God.

"His name is Aaron Turner. He just moved to Hawkings and he's not Y/N's boyfriend. But he could soon be if you don't talk to her."

"What fool moves to Hawkings?" Eddie asked as his gaze followed your figure walking to school.

You were laughing.

You seemed happy with him.

"What fool doesn't ask the girl he likes out?" Dustin retorted.

Eddie glared at him.

"You said it yourself. 86, your year. Then make it your fucking year and ask her out. Or at least start talking to her and stop looking at her from afar. And try to say things that make sense when she's around."

"I say things that make sense."

Dustin raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, okay."

Since when did he take advice from a fourteen-year-old boy?

But he was going to talk to you.

He had to do it without looking like a complete idiot but he felt he could do it.

Eddie could feel it: 1986 was going to be his year.

Part 2

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfic #eddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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chelseypprimrose · 11 months

Text

Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

Warnings: daddy kink, oral, unprotected/rough sex, slight dom!negan, talk of masturbation, Negan references himself as “the big bad wolf” (cringe but I love it), creampie, forbidden attraction, talk of voyerism, use of derogatory language, glove/leather kink (slightly)

Summary: Negan finds a smut tape of you on the video camera at Alexandria and makes it his mission to seek you out.

A/N: I got this idea in my head while I was watching the episode of season 7 where the saviours first visit Alexandria with Negan and he finds Rick’s confessional video as he’s emptying the houses out. also inspired by another Negan series called Polaroids by @reevesdriver on here as it’s one of my faves ever! 🫶🏼 I just had to write a Negan imagine in the TWD universe again bc as much as I like pre apocalypse Negan, I needed to write apocalypse Negan because there isn’t anything sexier to me than a murderous man swinging a barbed wire bat and talking about his dick, hope u enjoy 🤍 x

“Goddamn it.” You huffed out, a long breath leaving your lips as you shoved the deer that was on your shoulders further up to prevent yourself from dropping it on the ground. You’d been gone since the crack of dawn, with Daryl gone at this point in time, you were one of the best hunters that Alexandria still had. While you felt some type of way about putting in so much effort for someone else to just take the shit you’d risked your life for, you knew Rick needed people on his side at the moment. It would be foolish to try and be defiant right now, too much blood had been spilt recently and you didn’t want to be the reason it continued. Yeah, you’d played your part in the attack on the outpost but you’d all been in acceptance that it was just that outpost. That once that was cleared, you were rid of the foreboding threat that was the Saviours. How wrong you’d been in that moment, it was only the beginning.

You were now dealing with the aftermath of Negan, having to risk life and limb, bend over backwards to make him happy, the asshole. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d had to hold your tongue to stop yourself from verbally berating his people, knowing what the consequences of giving them a piece of your mind would be. You hadn’t been there when he had killed Abe and Glenn, only hearing the horrid, sordid details after the fact.

The blood from the deer that you’d managed to kill was seeping into your white tee, making your shoulders feel sticky and matting up in the tips of your hair. You signalled a high pitched whistle, waiting for the large dark beige gate to be opened, allowing you enter back into Alexandria. Your eyes found the large sign, “Alexandria Safe Zone: Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.” You scoffed, how fucking ironic. The gate began to be moved, revealing three large vans parked up just a couple feet away from the entrance, the Saviour vans. “For fuck sake.” You thought, what could that bastard want with you now, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“Negan, you’ll want to see this.” Negan turned to look at the saviour approaching him, holding out a small silver video recorder. “Well, what do we have here Grimes? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!” He grinned, crossing his fingers in front of Rick’s face. He slid his hand into the leather handle of the camera, a video of Rick coming into view, looking a lot more threatening than he did now. He could barely make out it was Rick, with the massive beard grown on his face he wasn’t used to seeing. “Woah! Is that you? Underneath all that man bush? Holy shit, I would have not of messed with that guy… but you aren’t that guy anymore. Are you Rick?” He grinned, Rick stood with a stern look on his face, not moving. Negan continued to watch the interview, Rick speaking candidly about the amount of people that he’d killed. The video started to go static, indicating there was a tape that had been recorded on top of the original. Negan’s eyebrows furred in confusion, before his eyes widened at what the camera had blessed his eyes with. He watched as you were stood in-front of the camera, a light pink lace open cut babydoll set on, your breast sat in the cups, nipples on show for the camera. You started posing for the camera, running your hands through your hair, holding it up Pam Anderson style. A large sexy smile on your lips, turning to do a 180 spin, your smooth backside coming into view for the camera, Negan pulling the camera closer to his face, almost not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t recognise you, maybe it had been someone that used to be in Alexandria, wasn’t a member anymore. He growled lowly, that would be just his luck, the sexiest woman he’d seen in recent history just missed by a couple weeks. He moved his attention back to the camera, now watching you spread out on the bed, playing with your nipples while starting to rub your folds underneath your panties before the camera cut out, showing Rick’s interview once again.

“Fuck! Just when it was getting good!” He cursed, snapping the cameras screen back into place. A fire now in his stomach, his jeans now contracting around his hard bulge. He couldn’t get you out his mind, he knew he’d remember if he’d come across you before, so who the hell were you?

You’d managed to get the deer half way back to your house before being stopped by one of Negan’s minions, asking what you were doing. You ignored him, just wanting to get back, the saviour hadn’t liked that, grabbing you by the waist, dragging you towards the circle of people that were gathered around one of the vans. You could hear Rick talking about some guns that he’d found, apparently Negan thought you were trying to stash items, to prevent having to hand them over to his people.

“Negan. Got a rude bitch here for you, was about to run home, sneak this thing back with her.” You slightly rolled your eyes. “How am I meant to sneak a deer back, smartass?” You questioned, not believing someone could be so stupid. The man’s face contorted into a rage fuelled look, his hand raising up to you, before he had the chance, Negan whistled. “Hey! We don’t raise a hand to a woman, you know the fucking rules.” He stepped forward, now coming into full view of you, his eyes glancing over your body, looking like a kid on Christmas. You were still here, he couldn’t believe his luck. Lucille sat on his shoulder, his one gloved hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the wood. “Now I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Negan.” He smirked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, his large frame towering slightly over you. You were met with a slight musk, you recognised it as an old spice fragrance, masculine and powerful. You looked at it, questionable look on your face before your hand met his, engulfing you from the size of it. His rough skin a stark contrast from the softness of yours, the movement felt foreign, you shouldn’t feel this way, especially when it’s him.

You saw Rick tensing up as he watched on from the sideline, wondering what Negan was up to, showing such civilness to you. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.” You stated, his smirk getting wider. “Sir? Oh, you my dear, are like the gift that keeps on damn giving!” He exclaimed, bewilderment sitting on the faces of those around you and yourself. What the hell did he mean by that? “Load em up, we’re leaving.” He commanded, the saviours starting to retreat back to their vans, Negan not moving from where he was stood.

A few of the Alexandrian’s moved away as well, not wanting to be in his presence for a moment longer than they were required to. “Now doll, take that damn thing off your shoulders, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” You reluctantly agreed, placing the deer just behind you, before Negan nodded at two remaining men, them coming behind you to take your prized find. You scowled, fury raging inside your soul, you’d risked your life trying to get just one actual nice, fulfilling meal for everyone, just to have your hard work stolen off you. “I believe that’s mine.” You spat out, the fire showing from your eyes as you glared up at him. “What’s yours is now ours doll, or hasn’t Rick drilled that into you yet?” He asked, aware of the sexual innuendo of his words, his tongue rolling across his lower lip. You huffed, knowing if you talked back further, it wasn’t going to end well for you. You felt like you were tasting blood from how hard you bit down on your tongue, fists balled up.

Negan walked over slightly to the back of the last truck, the doors open, a load of stuff that you recognised from peoples homes in the compound. Picking something up, he walked back over to you, Lucille still sat on his shoulder. You saw the small video camera, not thinking much of it, not knowing there was a tape inside that you probably would have never wanted him to see. He placed it on your chest, it digging into your skin, sat just on top of your heaving breasts.

“You should be careful with such sensitive material, never know what kind of perverts going to come across it!” He joked, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you finally understood what he was talking about. You got a look of disgust rise on your face, you couldn’t believe he’d seen such an intimate piece of film. You went to grab the camera from him before he gripped tight on it, making it harder to move. “Now doll, it’s a good job I found this before any of my men did, you know that right? They would have taken this back with them and sat around in a circle jerk together, I however am returning this to you, soooo… How about a thank you, Negan?” He demanded playfully, leaning closer to your face, nose almost touching your cheek. You gulped shallowly, your hand moving over his that was holding the camera to your chest. “Thank you, Negan.” You managed to get out, the words tasting like poison to you.

He laughed, letting go of the camera, allowing you take it back with a yank. “You are more than welcome, baby. Also, in case you were wondering, you are most definitely my favourite Alexandrian now.” He winked, walking backwards before getting in the truck, holding his head out the window, giving a small wave to you as they drove out the front gates. You huffed, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you held in your throat.

It had now been a couple weeks since Negan’s last visit, he’d sent groups of his saviours in between but never actually visiting himself. You were thankful that this had been the case, you’d found yourself thinking about what could have been. You’d began to let your mind wonder to the scenario of meeting Negan in another situation, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was one of the most attractive men you’d ever come across, it was just a shame he was also the most evil men you’d ever come across.

Unbeknown to you, he’d found himself thinking about you too, that fucking video. He’d managed to score some old age dvd porno films from supply runs over the years but he couldn’t even watch them to get off anymore, only thinking of your little smut tape. It wasn’t even like you’d done anything massively explicit on the tape, it shutting off before it managed to get that far but he had concluded that was probably worse. It allowed his mind to run at all the different possibilities, what did you sound like when you moaned, what would you sound like whimpering out his name as he was filling you up? What did you look like when you reached climax? All these unanswered questions racing through his mind as he got out his sexual frustration on his wives, not caring which one it was as all he pictured below him was you. Moaning out your name instead of theirs, the women not caring that much as they were only there to be used by him, no affectionate feelings connecting them to him.

You were currently in the garage, clipboard in hand, biting on the end of your pencil in anxiousness as you went over inventory. You were expecting another visit today, making you want to double check over everything to make sure there wasn’t any discrepancies in the numbers. That was the last thing you needed, especially since you were now actively trying to get plans in place to take the fight back to the Saviours. You were just finishing up when a loud knock startled you, the garage door vibrating at the motion. You put the clipboard down on the side, bending down to pull the door up.

“Well well well! If it isn’t my favourite Alexandrian. I’ve missed you, doll.” It was Negan, that signature grin on his face once again, eyes raking over your body. You felt sheepish under his wandering eyes, now knowing he’d practically seen you naked since he’d come across that video of yours. You sighed, hands resting on your hips. “What do you need, Negan?” You asked, him walking into the garage now, the door slamming back shut. The anxiety started to kick in as you were now alone with just him, as he looked over the shelves, picking up random items and studying them. “Nothing really, just wanted to see your pretty face. I just cannot stop thinking about you, doll! I wonder why that is, huh?” He laughed, you knowing what he was alluding to. He noticed how you crossed your hands over your chest, almost trying to shield yourself from him.

“Oh no no no! There’s no need for all that, I’ve seen those pretty babies already, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, doll.” He sauntered over to you, towering over you again like last time, practically feeling the heat from his body on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his, the way he looked at you making you get slick. He wasn’t one to hide his true emotion, his jeans getting tighter as he imagined you as he saw in the video, putting on a little private show for him. “I’ve gotta know, what made you film something like that? You must of known someone could come across it, why take the risk?” He questioned you, hand coming to rub over his bearded chin. “In this world, there’s not much opportunity to feel sexy. I just wanted something to look back at when I felt down about myself.” You squeaked out, feeling very intimate. Here you were telling the leader of a rival camp your biggest insecurities, possibly giving him ammunition to further torment you and your people.

“Oh doll, you could be covered in damn walker guts, and I’d still think you were the sexiest thing on this damn shithole planet.” He purred, grabbing you slightly by the chin, making you smile slightly. You shook your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp. “What are you doing Negan? We can’t be thinking like this. I can’t be thinking like this. You… you are the enemy.” Your hands resting on the lapels of his leather jacket, the slight coldness of it sending shivers down your spine. You leaned dangerously close to Negan’s lips, his beard scratching the surface of your skin. “Rick would fucking kill me, he’d fucking kill me, if he knew I think about you the way I do. Think about you when I touch myself, wishing it was you.” You whispered, getting more confident in your tone, your eyes staring at his lips, then back up to his dark eyes, your lips partially open as you let out shallow breaths, anything you could to try and lower your heart rate that was pumping under your chest. The silence in the room was deafening, you started to get nervous again, like you were just waiting for him to recoil away from you and laugh at your confession, that this had all been a massive joke to humiliate you further. “Goddamn it doll, looks like great minds think alike because I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I saw that little treat on that fucking camera.” He chuckled, picking you up in one swift movement, placing you on top of the workplace bench.

“Did you think about me claiming your pussy, doll? Fucking you until you can barely remember your goddamn name? What would Ricky say if he saw you submitting yourself so easily to me, the big bad wolf?” The dark tenor of Negan’s voice caused you to whimper in half fear, half pleasure. You could tell his personality was darkening to the more intense side, the jolly joking and fucking about traits were completely absent. You didn’t feel terrified though, like you did when he committed some of the horrific atrocities in front of you, the feelings of excitement causing your hairs to stand on edge and your pussy getting wet with every word that spilled out of his mouth.

“I did, god I want you inside of me.” You confessed, as Negan’s hands ghosted over your cleavage that was exposed by your tank top, before he pulled it over your head, your breasts spilling out of your lace bra. He shoved his gloved hand into your mouth, commanding you to suck. You obliged, your hands holding his arm in place as you swirled your tongue around the two thick fingers, head bobbing up and down as you did. The leather of the glove rubbery on your tongue, causing you to moan onto his fingers.

He grinned at you, a deep grunt as he leaned over capturing your right nipple into his mouth, suckling it, swirling his tongue around and biting it with his teeth causing you to moan and pull his head against your chest as you kept sucking hard on his fingers. He did it again, giving you light bites and licks, alternating between your two erect nubs. Negan removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop, bring them down to give one final pinch to your nipples, the wetness of his one hand causing the cold air to make your nipple more sensitive.

“Get on your knees, I want to see your mouth full of my dick, doll.” Negan grinned with a wicked smile, his hands undoing his jeans, letting them fall to pool at his boots. You felt your mouth salivate, eager to take him as slid off the table onto your knees. You started to lick him, going from bottom to top slowly, teasing him like he did to you with his dirty sweet nothings in your ears, hearing his low groans. You sucked the precum from his tip and swirled your tongue under his head, and then looked up at him, making sure you held eye contact with him, opening your mouth and taking him in little by little, bobbing your head up and down. Your mouth was being stretched wide, you started to move a little faster, sucking him, licking him, taking him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your throat. He was big, causing you to gag a little as your eyes began to water, your throat starting to get a sore feeling within it as he fucked your throat at a quick pace. He gave a slight gasp and his hand took a firm hold of your head keeping you in place, as his hips bucked, making it his mission to get as far down your throat as possible.

“I need to fuck you now, doll. Get up here.” Negan pulled back to your feet, slamming you stomach down onto the table, almost ripping your jeans as he pulled them down your thighs, your moist panties now on show, one tug and the flimsy material broke in two halves, now fully exposing your slick entrance to Negan. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit eliciting a pleasurable moan from both of you, pushing his length inside and then pulling out and rubbing it down your slit again.

“Please... Negan! Please!” You whimpered out, pinching your nipples, trying to get some relief from his teasing. He smirked down at you, that dark gaze watching your every move. “Please what? I want to hear you saying you want daddy's dick. I want to hear you beg me. Come on little girl, say it.” he demanded as he rubbed his length along your wet slit. “Please daddy! I want you deep inside me, please fuck me!” He groaned and pushed himself hard inside your walls, with no hesitations. You screamed, even being sopping wet, you were too tight around his shaft. He leaned on top of you and started to kissing your neck, biting lightly. Negan felt you getting used to his girth, you started to move your hips against him, wanting friction. He started to thrust in slowly, checking for your reaction to his movements. “I'm fine, please, fuck me daddy!” You moaned out, Negan pulling almost all the way out of you and then thrusting in hard making you gasp.

“You're loving this doll, aren’t you? Yeah, you're loving having my dick inside of you. I’d love good old Rick to walk in right now, see you bent over for the big bad wolf.” he chuckled, turning you on even more. Thrusting again and again building up speed, going faster and harder, just like you had imagined he would in your dirty dreams, but so much better than your imagination. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you are going to thank me for it.” He whispered in your ear, pulling your hair with one hand and holding your hips firmly with the other as he snapped his groin into you, making your ass ripple with the powerful movements. “I want to hear you doll, thank me.” You almost rolled your eyes at the narcissistic request but your brain was too blank to comprehend it. “Thank you, thank you Negan!”

You focused on the obscene sounds of your bodies echoing around you, amplified by how small the garage was. Negan continued fucking you rough and hard, until you felt the orgasm surging inside of you, building fast and strong. When it finally hit you, you screamed with the intensity of it, your body shook with the pleasure waves, running through your core. Negan released your hair to hold your hips so he could keep fucking you. His thrusts shortened, you clenched around his length, a groan leaving his mouth, feeling him finally release just after you. Negan pulled himself out of you, watching as his cum spilled out of your hole, dripping slightly onto the concrete floor below you. He leaned on top of you, leaving small kisses on your spine, body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Y/N! We need you out here! Negan is on his way!” You turned to Negan, a confused look on your face, he’d snuck into the compound to fuck you and now you had to act like he wasn’t even here.

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blacknedsoul-blog · 6 months

Text

Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven

So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.

What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.

Montresor's possible backstory

A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:

Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.

In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.

But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.

"I know this game better than anybody"

We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.

Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.

Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".

Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.

Same goal.

If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.

But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…

"So I'm not afraid to cheat."

Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.

So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.

Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.

Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.

And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).

Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.

She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).

The bad ending

These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.

The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.

But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #montresor nevermore #By the way #I don't want this to be read as me defending Montresor #Just because I believe that his attitudes follow a logic does not make them good or excusable #But that's how good antagonists are written #as a reflection of protagonists #And perhaps we should take whatever happens to him as a dark omen for Annabel and Lenore #And speaking of antagonizing Morella where the fuck are you? Your spectre is the opposite of this guy's

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