#just to prove to you all that progress is being made :p

[paradiseprincesss]

Absolutely ANYTHING with psychiatrist reader x patient jon crane! We don’t have enough of these 😭 and I loveee your fics so far!

Just a suggestion, maybe him meeting reader who has suppressed feelings for him in order to not cross any professional boundaries, at her place after breaking out of Arkham. Could be angsty with some intense lovemaking afterwards (once again, it’s totally up to you what you want to write. This was just an idea I had. No smut is fine too)

experience - jonathan crane x psychiatrist!reader

hello my love - this is such a good idea! i tried to write it the way you explained it so i hope this lives up to all ur expectations haha <3 and thank you for the kind words! i had so much fun writing this!

this lowkey became a song fic (but aren't all my fics song fics? hehe) because i also had a few requests for more of them. to anyone else who requested a specific artist/song there are more fics coming don't stress i'm just tryna get through them all it might take me a min !!!

summary: falling in love with your patient was not something you ever thought you'd experience - but what if he's fallen for you too?

warnings: smut 18+ mdni!!, mentions of suicide, swearing, p in v, masturbation, slight choking, kind of size kink lowkeyyy, just sex lol

working at arkham asylum was...interesting to say the least. you were in the last year of your psychiatry residency, and after this you'd be a full, licensed, practicing doctor specializing in psychiatry. it was exciting for sure, but dealing with your patients at arkham was no easy feat.

you'd seen it all - criminals, drug addicts, the insane; all of it. every single day there was something, wether that was an patient or inmate causing a riot or someone having a mental breakdown and hanging themselves in their cell - there was always something happening.

however, there was one patient; inmate - that stood out the most to you; jonathan crane.

he'd been your patient for the last eight months as none of your colleagues wanted to take him on because of who he was - but you loved a challenge. you wanted to prove yourself to your higher-ups, you wanted to show the preceptor in charge your residency program to see what you were capable of.

so, you offered to take him off everyone else's hands - and well, you'd come to partially regret that decision. however, your higher-ups and preceptor were impressed by your skills. he wasn't easy to deal with, that's for sure. he was the scarecrow after all - and don't forget, he was a psychiatrist himself.

though, you had a hold on him the same way he had a hold on you - but you didn't tell him that. jonathan made it clear from the start that he found you attractive, even behind bars and wrapped up in a straightjacket he would find ways to flirt with you, talk to you, or get your attention.

today, you had a scheduled session with jonathan to see if any progress was being made regarding his medication (which you knew he never took), and his behaviour.

your black pumps clicked against the wooden floor, and you closed the door quietly behind you, taking a seat in your office chair. you pulled up his file quickly on your laptop, and he sat a few feet away from you on the plush couch in your office. straightjacket and all.

"good morning, jonathan." you say, finally looking up from your laptop and locking eyes with him - god, his eyes were so pretty.

he never addressed you as "doctor" with your last name following, but instead, he insisted on calling you by your first name, or some pet name he felt like using that day.

you didn't mind actually, he was one of your more...tame and easy patients that you had, if not the easiest to deal with.

"you look beautiful as always." he said, and you smile at him sweetly. "thank you, jonathan."

today, you wore a black, mid-length pencil skirt and white blouse, with your hair down in your favourite style, some black pumps - and you finished it off with your doctors coat, of course.

skimming over his file, you type a few quick notes into your laptop - freshly done nails clicking over the keys in the otherwise silent office. after that, you got up and went over to him, helping him out of the straightjacket as he sat there in his white arkham inmate jumpsuit.

at first, you didn't let him have this privilege, but as he proved himself to be non-temperamental over time, it started off with the loosening of the straightjacket just a little...then taking it off fully but making sure he wore handcuffs. slowly, under your careful watch, you allowed him the freedom of zero restraints in your office once he proved he wasn't a threat or a danger towards you.

"let's get you out of this." you say softly, and he stays quiet for a moment, just stretching once the restraint was fully off of him. you had a different method of approaching him than the other doctors who worked (and gave up) with him.

you noticed that in a calmer, less hectic environment he responded better. so instead of having check-ups in his cell or in an interrogation room like you did with all your other patients, you let him chill in your office - restraint free.

you returned to your chair, and started to type away as you asked him the usual questions.

"how are you feeling today?"

"fine, i missed seeing your face though. seeing you three times a week isn't enough for me anymore." he says to you, making you stop typing and look up at him.

"please elaborate for me, jonathan." you say clinically, trying to ignore the way your heart started to race when he said that.

"you know what i mean. you're the only thing keeping me sane in here." he says to you with a pleading tone, making you sigh as you continue to write down your clinical notes onto the laptop.

"but you're making progress, jonathan. you seem to be doing better, there's no need for me to be seeing you more frequently." you answer curtly, but pause for a moment for letting the next few words slip out in a hushed tone, "...unless you feel like you need a few extra therapy sessions on a weekly basis."

he smirks, looking you up and down - clearly checking you out with no shame. "that's exactly what i need. i'm going crazy without you. i'd be so good to you if you were mine..." he throws in that last part quickly, but you catch it.

you clear your throat and try not to pay any mind to it, as to appear professional - but he's slowly breaking your walls down. he already has. you couldn't even lie to yourself - you were attracted to your patient. fuck, maybe you were even in love with him - how could you not be?

the fluffy brown hair, slightly tousled and messy, those beautiful, blue eyes that reminded you of sapphires, those plump, pink lips that-

no, stop it, you told yourself, focus on your job.

"ah, um- have you been taking your medications?" you ask softly, giving him a small smile to which he returns. "...yeah." he says hesitantly, and you know he's lying - you find the little cup the nurses gave him full of the pills he's supposed to be taking every time you check up on how he's feeling in his cell.

but you turn a blind eye - you may have been giving him special treatment because you were attracted to him, but you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that it wasn't like you were breaking any professional boundaries because technically, you didn't act on his advances - yet.

"good, just wanted to make sure." you speak in a hushed tone again, typing up all information in his file.

"you're a really good doctor." he says, breaking the momentary silence between the two of you, "you work hard, i can tell."

"thanks, jonathan." you say, trying your hardest to sound detached as you keep your eyes on the laptop in front of you, continuing to type away but he speaks again.

"you're welcome. you're so pretty." he sighs, "is it wrong for me to be having these thoughts about-? never mind, actually."

now it was your turn to sigh, looking up at him with a raised brow. you knew what he was doing, he was literally trying to play mind games with you. he was on purposely trying to get you to pry so he could flirt with you more - but that was your job...right? to pry?

"what thoughts?" you ask, biting your lip. "i have to ask cause...it's my job to know what's going on up here." you gesture to your own temple. he knew that this was indeed your job - to know what was going through his mind.

buuuuut you were definitely curious. the way he would talk to you gave you butterflies. the way he would act out and act violently to everyone except you gave you butterflies - even though it shouldn't have.

"i just can't get you out of my mind, pretty girl. you do things to me. 'm thinking about you when i'm all alone in my cell, how your body would feel. how it feels to kiss you, hold you. what it's like to love you." he breaths out, and you look at him incredulously, feeling your cheeks heat up at his admission.

"well," you stay, breathing slightly staggered now, "you must have an active imagination, then." you couldn't look him in the eye after that. you were trying so hard to suppress your feelings for him that were ever growing.

although one part of you knew it was wrong on both ends, wrong of you to let him effect you this way (and letting it happen), and wrong of him to be talking to you like this - you couldn't stop yourself. however, a part of you wondered if this was really how he felt - or if it was just some ploy to get out of arkham. perhaps he thought if he could get into your head, you would either help him escape or sign his release papers.

you always tried to force yourself to believe that to prevent your fantasies from growing any further - but it drove you wild.

"i know you feel the same way," his voice cut through the silence, snapping you out of your thoughts again, "i have a doctorate in psychiatry - don't forget i can also see right through you and your thoughts too."

"i-i can assure you that this is strictly professional - you and i. i mean, even if it were true, that it was mutual, it wouldn't work. you're my patient in an asylum for the criminally insane and i'm your doctor because you are criminally insane." you say, looking at him with a stoic expression, though both you and him knew of the feelings that were lurking underneath your "professional" facade. "plus, saying this won't help you get out of here any quicker. i'm not stupid."

you entirely regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth, and he shot you a look of surprise.

suddenly, he got up off the couch and made his way over to your desk - your heart now palpitating in ways you didn't even realize was physically possible.

he placed his hands on the desk, looming over you - but not in a psychotic way - or threatening, even. he just looked at you up and down, with a small smirk.

"why can't you just give in? i'm not going to tell anyone. it's not like i can, anyway." he said jokingly, but went back to being serious quickly. "please."

the way he said "please" made your breath hitch, and you look up at him with poorly concealed desire. "w-we can't, okay? we just...can't."

"but i have feelings for you - and i know you do too." he insists, and you get up out of your chair, walking over to him, having to look up at him due to your height difference.

"how i feel isn't important," you state, trying so hard not to break your facade. "if you really cared about me, you would stop doing this to me. stop making my job harder than it has to be, please jonathan. it's- it's just not fair. telling me this won't make me sign those papers-"

"fuck the papers, i don't need anything as long as i have you. you're-" he exasperates, but pauses before continuing, "you're all i have in here, you're the only one who's treated me like a person, like a real person with valid emotions. you know who i am and you don't have any fear - you aren't scared of me. you see me for...me."

silence.

after he confessed that to you, it was silent. he stood there, looking at you through his wire-frame glasses that he always wore, and you stood there in shock. at that moment, you didn't know what to say - what to do.

"i'm not feeling well," you suddenly say, "i-i'm going to take the rest of the day off. i'm going to call a nurse to escort you back to your cell." you say quickly, trying to keep your composure.

you weren't very good at that when he was around, but he didn't say anything. he let you process your emotions in your own way - of course he would. but he was plotting.

you paged a nurse to escort him back to his cell early, and you didn't dare look at him when they took him out of your office - too embarrassed and such to do so.

that night, when you got home, you decided to take the next few days off work before returning - you were too high strung with anxiety for work right now; and the cause of that anxiety was literally at work.

you ran yourself a hot shower, dried your hair, and got ready for bed throwing on your silk nightie in your favourite colour. that night, you couldn't sleep at all - constantly tossing and turning in bed, thoughts running wild.

why did it all have to be so complicated?

you didn't understand, honestly. the one guy who actually managed to steal your heart happened to be...him.

you laid in the dark quietly, the only thing light source being the tv on the wall of your bedroom. the sound of your tv playing faintly in the silence, some random show you put on was on in the background.

"can't sleep either?" a familiar voice said softly from the doorway of your bedroom, causing you to let out a small scream from being startled - nobody expects someone to be in their house at nearly 3 am unnoticed.

"what the fuck?!" you say, reaching to turn the light on your bedside table on, and sat up in your bed - seeing the one and only jonathan crane standing in your bedroom looking a little different than before.

he had escaped, that much was clear. but instead of that stupid inmate jumpsuit, he was in his actual suit and tie attire but no scarecrow mask.

"sorry, darling." he cringed at the way he startled you. "hear me out, please. you look beautiful, by the way. you always do."

"jonathan-" you warned.

"i know." he says, walking towards you, now sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched in both fear and awe. "i can't let you go. if 'professional boundaries' are whats standing between us-"

"you broke into my house, jonathan!" you exclaim, cutting him off but he just gives you a small smile, which made your heart leap. "and i'm sorry for that," he explains, "but like i said, now there is nothing standing in between us."

you look at him, and your jaw almost drops. was he for real right now?

"i just wanted you to know that, um, i wasn't just saying those things with the hope that you'd ya know - release me from arkham." he says to you softly, and you nod. "well, you've made that pretty clear by doing...this." you tell him, a small smile playing on your lips.

god, he was crazy - but he was crazy over you, and maybe you were fucked up in your own little way because you found it endearing, the thought of it all excited you.

"you don't need to fight the feeling anymore." he informs you softly, reaching a hand out for you to take - and you do. his hands were surprisingly soft, a little calloused but soft.

"you know how i feel about you, i want to be yours - i want us." you finally tell him.

"be mine, then." he whispers, and you crawl over to him on your king sized bed. you crawl onto his lap, and you can already feel him getting harder by the minute.

"i can't sleep, dr. crane." you tease, calling him 'dr. crane,' instead of the usual 'jonathan.'

he places a trail of kisses down your neck softly, pushing your hair back to do so, and whispers softly to you. "why don't you let me take care of you for once?"

the words gave you shivers, and you felt yourself getting wetter with every word he said - hanging onto them with desperation. "please, baby." you whisper, and he pulls you into a frenzied kiss.

his lips were soft - so soft. you kiss him back and he takes his time with you, hands roaming all over your body as he explored your mouth. you moaned softly into the kiss, giving him the green light to keep going. he pulled away from the kiss hesitantly to undress you.

slowly, he pulled the skimpy little nightie you wore to bed down, past your shoulders - then all the way down. you felt the cold air of your room hit your bare chest, but that feeling was replaced with the new sensation of jonathans warm mouth taking one of your nipples in his mouth. he took the bud in his mouth, licking and sucking.

"oh, baby." you say, letting out a breathless moan at the sensation. in response, he took hold of your other breast and started to play with your nipple between his fingers.

"fuck, need you so bad." you say, profanities leaving your mouth every five seconds with the way he was touching you. "yeah? tell me how badly you need me, sweetheart." he says to you, coming back up to trail kisses along your jawline and neck.

"i need you so bad, jon. please, you're everything i want." you tell him, breathless and soaked. he snaked his hand up to your neck and gave it a light squeeze, keeping his hand there. "fucking jerked off to the thought of you every night in arkham," he says, making your cheeks heat up from the thought, "every time we had our little scheduled meetings - fuck, you looked so good. just the thought of you alone had me cumming all over my fist instantly."

"i-i touched myself to the thought of you in my bed, too." you tell him, making him smirk. "did you?" he cooed, "why don't you show me how you did it. let me see."

that had you blushing, and you swallowed. you nervously laid back, propped up on your elbows as he watched. with a little hesitance, you spread your legs - suddenly feeling very vulnerable. he watched you intently, still smirking, and ran his hand along your lower leg - slowly trailing it up to your thighs, rubbing up and down.

"don't be shy, sweetheart." he says lowly, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt on full display for him. you take your hand and slowly started to rub your clit in front of him, and you can feel how wet you are.

tossing your head back slightly, and closing your eyes you let out a filthy moan, and he groans at the sight of you. you hear his belt buckle being undone, and you open your eyes to see him pulling his cock out - fat and leaking at the tip.

he positioned himself between your spread legs - your hand still rubbing your clit. he started to stroke his cock slowly, the pre cum leaking out the pink head of his cock. it was so big it looked like it could split you in two. "feel good, princess?" he asked, making you nod and moan.

"f-fuck, yeah. f-feels ah- so good, baby." you respond, and he started to rub the head of his cock through your sticky, soaking folds making you whine. "please!"

he chuckled lowly, and pushed into your soaked cunt with no warning. your hands flew to his shoulders, and his hand snaked to your clit to replace yours. "oh fuck-" you say, his cock stretching you out to the limit. you felt so full.

"jesus, sweetheart," he moans as he sunk into you, "fuck- tightest pussy i've ever had. best pussy i've ever had, actually." he decided as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

"right there, baby ah-" you moan, looking up at him. his fat cock was stretching you so good - he was so deep. as his fingers played with your clit, you couldn't help but start screaming out his name.

"jonathan, fuuuck-!" you were a screaming, moaning mess for him - and he adored it. the sight alone almost had him cumming into your tight little cunt. as he pounded the same spot in your cunt, you felt yourself about to cum for him.

"i-i'm gonna fucking cum, please." you started to beg incoherently, and he moaned as he felt your pussy tighten up around his cock. "cum for me baby, i wanna see your pretty face when you cum." he says to you softly, voice saccharine.

as you came all over his cock, you swore you saw stars. the feeling was otherworldly when your orgasm washed over you. jonathans thrusts started to get sloppy and erratic indicating that he was about to cum, too.

"gonna fill this little pussy up, make sure everyone knows your mine, fuck-" he grunted, "you're gonna be dripping with my cum."

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before stilling with a groan, and his cock twitched inside of you; spilling all of his cum into your cunt, filling you up with everything he had.

he pulled out slowly, and used his fingers to push his cum back into your cunt as soon as it started to leak out, causing you to moan. "what a sight." he sighs out of breath, and you giggle breathlessly to that.

"can we cuddle?" you ask quietly, and he was already pulling you into his arms. "open." he says, fingers covered with both your fluids mixed together at your lips. you wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking them and swallowing the mixture with a little moan. "such a pretty, obedient girl." he coos, making you blush.

you settle into his arms, exhausted, and he holds you close as his heart beat heavily in his chest. he placed a kiss on the top of your head, and you felt your eyes grow heavy.

when you went back to work, you knew you would have to pretend that you didn't know where or how jonathan escaped arkham (to be fair - you still weren't 100% sure on how he actually escaped), but that was still a few days down the road - you were too fucked out and sleepy to think about that right now.

"go to sleep, sweetheart." he says to you softly, turning the light on your bedside table off, "i'll be here when you wake up - i'll always be here. i love you."

with a content sigh, and a sleepily mumbled little "i love you too," you fell asleep wrapped up in your no-longer-forbidden lovers embrace for the night.

together at last.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy imagine #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x f!reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x female reader #jonathan crane x y/n #cillian x y/n #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x y/n

[munsonluhvr]

THE TUTOR

pairing: virgin!eddie munson x virgin!reader. being the straight a+ student you are, you're asked to tutor the most difficult student at hawkins - Eddie Munson. word count: 3.6k. warnings: (18+) p in v, oral, fingering, body parts described, light cussing, probs misspellings.

“Y/n, come talk to me please,” Your teacher Mrs. Bennett asks, as you stand up from your desk. The bell had just rung, signaling that it was time to head to your next class. English was the class that just concluded, your favorite course for the semester. English came to you with ease, and you enjoyed to book you were reading so far. 

You walk up to Mrs. Bennett’s desk. “You wanted to speak to me?” 

Mrs. Bennett nods, taking her glasses off. “I’ve received another request for an English tutor to help… an older student.” You had been a peer tutor since your first year of high school, now entering your fourth year.

You cock your head to the side, “An older student?” 

Mrs. Bennett nods, “Yes; Eddie Munson.”

Your mouth slacks open, “You want me to tutor Eddie Munson? Hasn’t that been proven to be impossible?” You had heard from the small group of peer tutors that Eddie Munson had been proved to be a challenge, either showing up to tutor sessions smelling of weed or not showing up at all. 

Mrs. Bennett frowns, shaking her head. “Let’s be forgiving, y/n. Plus, all the students like you; your success rate is the highest of all the tutors. I thought you would be up for the…challenge.” 

You re-adjust your attitude, “Of course, Mrs. Bennett.” 

“Good,” Your teacher says, now smiling. “You should meet with him starting today, every day for the next couple of weeks. He really wants to graduate finally and a lot of his English grade rests on the final quiz.” 

You nod, listening closely. 

“-And here are the books his class is reading,” Mrs. Bennett says pushing a small stack of books towards you, “With tests quizzes to help further progress along.” 

“Great, I’ll start today,” You say, “Thank you, Mrs. Bennett.” 

Mrs. Bennett leans forward, “Goodluck, y/n.”

You back up from the desk, heading towards the door. On top of everything else you had going on; you didn’t need to be tutoring the Eddie Munson. 

You enter the hallway, dodging students that are rushing to their next class. You make your way to your next class, which was just down the hallway, thinking about your plan to help Eddie pass his last English class. Eddie was 20, failing to graduate two or three times, and he barely has the patience to pay attention. 

You make it to your next class, taking a deep breath in hopes to make it through the rest of the day. Which you did, your last two classes flying by quickly. Once your last class concludes, you made your way to the library in attempt to find out Eddie’s schedule and where to find him. 

When you push the door to the library open, you see Eddie standing at the desk. You hear the desk attendant say, “That’s her there,” and point to you. 

Eddie turns around, scanning you up and down. “Are you the poor soul who is going to attempt to help me pass my English class?” 

You nod, “That would, sadly, be me.” 

Eddie tucks his hands into his pockets, “The enthusiasm is overwhelming.” 

You shift the books that Eddie’s class in reading in your arms and you place them on the table that is nearby. “So, shall we start?” 

Eddie shrugs, coming over to the table and sorting through the pile of books you put down. You watch his nimble fingers, covered in big, metal rings, flip through the pages of the books, his shirt pulling up at the sleeves to reveal the tattoos of a cluster of black bats on his forearm. 

You had always heard rumors about Eddie Munson and his club, that were mostly started by the basketball team, and you always found him mysterious. You never believed that he was a freak like they called him, or that he was a devil worshiper. You knew that he lived in a rough neighborhood, the trailer park off of the highway, and that his uncle was his guardian. You always thought that those facts could impact the way a person acted. 

You are brought out of your thoughts when you notice Eddie waving his hand in front of your face. “Helloo, y/n?” 

“Sorry,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Let’s start.” 

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, but sits down in a chair, kicking his feet up on the table. You roll your eyes, sitting down as well. You flip through the book that Eddie’s class was reading, remembering when you read the book a year prior. 

You begin your tutoring session, making connections between the reading and the discussion questions that were in the papers that Mrs. Bennett has given you. You feel Eddie’s eyes on you as he listens to you. You look over at him after a few minutes, “Are you even listening?” 

Eddie kicks his feet of the table, leaning forward onto the table, his face only a few inches from yours. “I’m listening.” 

You clench your jaw, backing up a few inches. You shake your head, starting to get frustrated, “Look, I’m not the one about to miss graduation for the third time. I’d suggest paying a little more attention.” 

Eddie smiles, amused by your attitude. “It’s a little hard when a girl as pretty as you is talking.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard about Eddie’s playful, flirty side. You had also heard that he was equally shy. “Eddie, seriously.” 

Eddie laughs, “I am being serious.”

You ignore him, continuing on with summarizing the book, writing down short notes for Eddie to refer to and study. You continue on like this for the next hour, the hallway quieting down as everyone has gone home. You decided it was best to end the tutoring session, Eddie’s attention starting to fade away. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie says, collecting the notes you had made for him. You nod, heading towards the library entrance. “Same time, same place.” 

You pushed the door open, and head out of the library. The hallway was significantly cooler then the library and you felt your cheeks blush when you thought about Eddie’s compliment. You shook it off making your way home. 

When you get home, your mom is waiting for you, bouncing your younger sibling on her hip. “Where have you been?” 

“I had a tutoring session; sorry I’m home late.” 

Your mother passed your baby sister to you as she stirred the pot that was boiling on the stove. “I just found out I have a meeting tomorrow at the same time you normally tutor so I need you to cancel so you can watch your sister.” 

You roll your eyes, strapping your sister into her highchair. “I can’t just cancel, mom.” 

Your mother sighs, looking over her shoulder at you. “I know you’ll figure just something out. Just be home right after school, okay?” 

You nod, leaving the kitchen to head up to your room. 

The next day of school went by quick, your mind occupied with solving your study location issue. After your fourth-class finishes, you step out into the hallway, joining the crowd of students. A few feet away, you see Eddie standing with his friends, seemingly his club members by their matching shirts, and you make your way towards them. 

Dustin, one of the boys standing around Eddie, nudges Eddie to alert him of your presence. Eddie turns around to greet you. “Y/n,” 

“Eddie,” you say, taking a peek at the couple of boys that stood behind him. They all stare at you with curiosity. “I need to switch where we’re meeting later. Can you come to my house instead of the library? I have to watch my sister for my mom.” Dustin’s mouth slacks slightly at the sound of you, a girl, inviting Eddie to your house. 

Eddie nods, his eyes scanning your face. “Yeah, that works. What your address?”

You rattle off your address, starting to back away. “Come around 4,” you say, hoping your mom would be gone by then. You weren’t sure what she’d think about inviting a boy over when she wasn’t there, even if it was just for a tutor session. 

The rest of the day blew by and before you knew it, you were standing in front of your mirror that stood on a stand next to your dresser. You toss your hair, leaning in close to inspect the lip gloss you just applied. You shake your head at yourself, catching yourself primping for Eddie. Downstair, you hear someone knock at the door. You glanced at your clock, seeing that it was half past four.  

You jog down your stairs, hoping the knock didn’t wake up your infant sister who you had just put down for a nap. You open the door and Eddie is leaning in the doorway. 

“Hey,” he says, stepping around you to enter your house. “Nice place.” 

“Thanks, now be quiet, I just put my sister down for a nap.”

“Sorry,” He whispers, readjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

“Follow me,” you say, guiding Eddie up the stairs. You lead him into your room, shutting the door behind you quietly.

“So, this is the princesses’ room,” Eddie says, taking a look around your room. He seats himself on your bed, picking up your stuffed bear that rested near your pillow. Eddie smiles, making the bear waves it’s hand at you. You roll your eyes, sitting next to him on your bed. “Hand me your books,” you say, putting your hand out. 

Eddie unzips his bag, pulling the books out. He hands them to you, your fingers brushing his. You pause as Eddie glances at you. Your faces are only a few inches apart, close enough to notice that his clothes smelled like cigarettes mixed with laundry detergent. Your breath hitches, and you cough to break the silence. Eddie blinks out of his trance, pulling out the notes you had made for him the day prior. “These were really helpful when I looked them over last night, thanks.” 

You nod, “Good; of course.”

Again, another instance of silence occurred, and you glance at Eddie to see he’s looking at your freshly glossed lips. “Eddie, are you ready?” Eddie jumps slightly, turning his head to his laps where his notebook lays. “Yup, ready.” 

You blush, wondering what Eddie was thinking while he looked at your lips. You begin to start your tutoring session for the next hour, Eddie actively paying attention. You felt like you and Eddie were making good strides and you felt confident enough to interrupt and initiate a snack break. 

“Do you want water, soda?” You ask Eddie, standing up from your bed. 

Eddie shrugs, “Whatever you have, I’ll have too.” 

You nod, moving to leave your room. You take a trip downstairs, grabbing two soda cans from the fridge. You run back up the stairs, taking the stairs by two, and enter your room again. Eddie stands at your dresser, picking up the small picture frames of you and your friends at the beach. He notices you walk in and moves back to your bed. You walk over to where he sits, on the foot of your bed, and hand him a soda can. Again, your fingers brush Eddie’s. 

You lift the tab, opening the drinking hole, and Eddie does the same. You take a sip, realizing how thirsty you are. Eddie leans back against your bed foot-frame, glancing at you. You lean back on your hands, creating extra distance between you and Eddie. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Eddie asks, boldly

You swallow your sip of soda hard, making eye contact with Eddie. “No; why do you ask?” 

“Because you don’t have any photos of guys, it’s just you and your friends,” Eddie says simply. 

You glance at your dresser full of picture frames, and then back to Eddie. “Yeah, no boyfriend.” 

Eddie continues to stare at you, and you squirm under his attention. 

You break the silence, “Do you have a girlfriend?” You feel foolish asking, but why couldn’t you ask too? 

Eddie scoffs, turning his attention away from you. “Like anyone would date a freak.” 

You frown, “That can’t be true. You’re a good-looking guy.” You blush when you realize what you’ve said. Eddie glances at you once again, a curious look on his face. 

“You think so?” Eddie says, leaning forward, closing the gap between you and him. His face is only a few inches from yours, sending the scent of his cigarettes and laundry detergent back to you. He placed his can of soda on the ground, right on your white shag rug. 

You nod, letting him invade your personal space. Suddenly, you feel the intense urge to let him truly invade your personal space, your attraction to him causing you to lean close to him. In an instant, your face was only an inch from his. You had very little experience with guys, and you assumed Eddie had no experience with girls, yet you felt confidence of an experienced women. You didn’t know where these feelings came from, but you wanted to explore them more. 

You push your lips into Eddie’s, and in an instant he responds to your gesture. Your lips move roughly with his, Eddie’s tongue slipping into your mouth. You sigh at the feeling, your stomach forming a knot in anticipation. Eddie pushes you back, your back laying on your bed. 

Eddie kicks his shoes off, climbing on top of you. You arrange your body in a way that allows him to nestle himself on top of you. Eddie cups your face with his ring covered hand, deepening the kiss. You feel his nerves showcasing themselves in his movements, each touch un-confident and inexperienced.

Eddie moves his hands down further from your face, never breaking contact with your lips, as he cups your breast over your shirt. Your body reacts intensely to his touch, your body craving him. You break the kiss with Eddie to lean up and lift your shirt up and off. Eddie’s eyes widen at the sight of your bra-covered chest, and you lay back on your bed, letting your fingers play with the bottom of Eddie’s t-shirt. 

Eddie gets the hint and lifts his shirt off. You reach out, cupping his face and guiding him into yours. You feel Eddie harden in his jeans as your almost bare chest presses against his. Your core aches for Eddie’s touch, every touch becoming more desperate. 

Eddie feels hunger for you too, his mind in autopilot. His fingers toy with the band of your jeans, his nimble fingers moving to unzip your pants. You help him by wiggling out of your pants, leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. You thank yourself for picking out your decent underwear, so you didn’t embarrass yourself.

 You spread your legs open wider, Eddie settling himself between your thighs. Eddie moves a hand to let his hand grope you between your thighs. You moan softly, sending Eddie into a tizzy. Eddie pulls his big, chunky rings off, letting them drop to the floor. He pulls your panties to the side, letting his fingers plunge into you. 

You gasp, your hands clutching your sheets. Eddie breaks the kiss, your mouth agape as you breathe heavily. He peppers your neck in kisses, letting them trail to your chest and between your breasts. Eddie’s fingers move out of you in a rhythm, pressure beginning to build in your abdomen. Your hips jut up, expressing how you were experiencing pleasure from Eddie’s touch. 

You feel the urge to taunt Eddie, drawing him in to pull his pants off and pleasure you. You lean up again, un-clipping your bra. Your breasts fall out and Eddie is quick to move his kisses on your nipple. Eddie, takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue across your bud. You place your hand into Eddie’s long, curly hair, pulling him further onto your chest. Eddie feels your desperation radiating off your skin, laced in every movement you make. He pulls away from you, standing up next to the bed to unzip his pants, leaving him in his boxers. 

You bite your lip at the sight of Eddie’s tent in his black boxers, and you forget that you’re essentially naked in front of a boy for the first time. Eddie climbs back onto the bed, kneeling below you. You part your legs to allow for more space on the bed. He kneels, moving your legs so they rest on his shoulders. He hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly while he makes eye-contact with you. He flicks your panties to the ground, leaving you completely naked. 

Eddie gazes at you for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight of your naked body. He moves to hover over your body, aligning himself with you again. His face dips down, his lips meeting yours once again, and you take the opportunity to hook your fingers into his boxers, pushing them down his thighs. He helps you, kicking them off, letting them fall to the floor. Eddie trails kisses from your lips to your neck and you take the initiative to look at Eddie’s cock. Your stomach clenches at the sight of it, its large size intimidating you. 

Eddie, nuzzles his face into your neck, leaning on his arm. “Can I?” 

You nod, spreading your legs open to let him in. Eddie lines himself up with you and you take a deep breath. With one swift push, Eddie enters you, his size demanding your sex to adjust to fit his size. You grab on to his bicep, squeezing it roughly as you react to the slight feeling of pain. 

Eddie starts out with slow thrusts, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him further into you. You moan softly, your eyes fluttering shut. Eddie sighs too, the feeling of you clenched around him sending shivers up his arms and down his torse. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” You say, your back arching. Your nipples graze his chest, and Eddie takes notice. His pace quickens, his movements a little rougher. 

Your fingertips graze his sides, his warm skin feeling hot against your cold, exposed skin. Eddie initiates another kiss with you, and you lean into it. Eddie’s strokes continue, sending pleasure up your body. Your head was spinning with thoughts but all you could think about is how your body fit perfectly with Eddie’s. 

“You feel so good, y/n,” Eddie mutters against your lips. 

Your skin flushes at Eddie’s comment, your thighs clenching around his waist. Eddie’s movements weren’t enough for you, your body craving more. You maneuver your foot between his and use it as leverage to move yourself on top of Eddie. Now, Eddie lays on his back, his face expressing shock from the whirlwind you sent him in. You sink down on the length of his cock and his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. 

You begin to rock back and forth, like you had seen in the movies, and knew you were doing it right by the way Eddie reacted to your movements. You grasp Eddie’s hands, moving them to your waist. Eddie’s grasp tightens around your hip bones, helping you set the tempo. 

Eddie moans loudly, one of his hands moving to your backside. Eddie sits up, colliding his lips with yours. “I’m close,” Eddie says, between kisses. 

You sigh, wishing the moment could go on forever. You lean back, creating inches of distance between you and Eddie. You let your fingertips graze his cheek, taking in his features. He was truly a beautiful person.

You push him back, moving from your position on his cock. Eddie frowns, missing the feeling of you clenched around him. You back up, taking his length into your hand. Eddie shivers under your touch, watching you take his member into your mouth. His fingers intertwine in your hair, pushing you down further. You bob your head, discovering your love the action of giving head. 

Quicker than you wished, Eddie comes in the back of your throat, his hip jutting up to push his entire self down your throat. Now, you missed the feeling of him moving in and out of you, your mind full of filthy things you wanted to try. 

You stand up, feeling awkward and exposed all of a sudden. You pick your panties off the ground, stepping into them, and put your t-shirt on over your head, leaving your bra on the floor. You toss Eddie’s underwear to him, and he catches them, his eyes lingering on you. 

“So..” Eddie says, sitting up and swinging his legs to the side of your bed. 

You look up at him, a small smile on your lips, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t know what to say, not knowing how the moment got so out of hand. You were studying, drinking soda, and then before you knew it you were naked, Eddie deep inside of you. 

“We should probably continue studying tomorrow.” You say, leaning against your dresser. 

Eddie frowns, cocking his head at you. Your mind is in a flutter, your eyes gazing at Eddie’s barely clothed body. “You’re really going to graze over what just happened?” 

Your eyes shift, going from Eddie’s eyes to the floor. “I don’t really know what happened, honestly.” 

Eddie laughs, once again amused by you. “I think we should do it again; after I take you out on a date of course.” 

Your eyes snap to his, your eyebrows raised. “A date?” 

Eddie shrugs, picking his rings off the floor. “Would you be interested?” 

You didn’t even have to think about it. You were intrigued by Eddie, his mysterious and complex persona pulling you in. You also didn’t mind that he had just performed perfectly in bed. 

“I’d love to.” 

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

[misshoneyimhome]

ok so like i have an idea… so reader is the first female in the nhl and just happens to be a rookie at the same time with Knies, and they also happen to share John and Aryne’s basement together. And let’s just say things get spicy and we get a little smut between the two of them. just a thought… hehe. oh and they also watch Jace, Ax and Rae together. Thank you😌

Did this turn out a little longer than I anticipated? Yes, yes it did. Do I care? No, I do not 🌺

Babe, I really enjoyed this idea, and I truly hope I came somewhat close to what you'd imagined 🤗 Please, enjoy 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; Matthew Knies x reader; professional hockey players; roommates to lovers; 18+ smut; fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, protected sex (p in v), indication of more sexual activity;

Word count; 4.5K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

・✶ ｡ﾟ

A Home Away From Home I Matthew Knies 🖋️⚡️🌺

You'd always been a ground breaker, determined to break every glass ceiling placed before you. Since you first laced up your skates as a young girl, you knew hockey wasn't just a game; it was your passion, your calling, and your ticket to greatness.

Growing up in Toronto, the heart of hockey in Canada, you were surrounded by the sport's rich history and undeniable allure. But as a girl with dreams of playing in the big leagues, you faced more than just opponents on the ice; you faced a society that often underestimated your abilities simply because of your gender.

Yet, with unwavering determination and a fierce dedication to your craft, you climbed through the ranks of the any Hockey League you came across, unisex or female, leaving a trail of shattered stereotypes behind you. Every early morning practice, every gruelling workout, every setback, and social sacrifice—all of it was a testament to your steadfast resolve to prove that women belonged on the ice just as much as men.

And then, finally, the moment you had been tirelessly working towards arrived: the inception of the Professional Women's Hockey League (PWHL), a league where women could showcase their talents on the highest stage possible. It was a culmination not only of your own journey but also of the collective efforts of women and men alike who had fought tirelessly to make this dream a reality.

So, as you put on your Toronto jersey for the first time, sporting your favourite number, your heart swelled with pride. No longer were you just a player from one of the "standard" leagues – as some men would call it; you were a pioneer, a symbol of progress, and your city's emblem decorated across your chest only added to the weight of the moment.

With every stride on the ice, every puck you sent flying towards the net, you carried with you the hopes and dreams of a generation of young girls who dared to defy expectations. Toronto wasn't just a logo on your jersey; it was a symbol of everything you had overcome and everything you hoped to achieve.

And as you took your place among the elite athletes of the PWHL, you knew that this was only the beginning of your journey to greatness. The ice may have been cold beneath your skates, but the fire burning within you was hotter than ever before.

_

As you embarked on your journey, entering the very first season in the PWHL, there was one other thing that made the experience truly unforgettable: the unwavering support and boundless kindness of Aryne and John Tavares.

In a city where so much was happening and you could easily lose your way in a heartbeat, Aryne and John welcomed you into their home with open arms, treating you not as a guest, but as a cherished member of their family. Their generosity knew no bounds, and their genuine care for your well-being was a beacon of light in the sometimes dark and daunting world of professional sports.

Never before had you met such extraordinary people, whose warmth and compassion seemed to know no limits. With John’s many years in the NHL, they became your pillars of strength, offering solace and support during the inevitable highs and lows of your rookie season.

And while you had always been grateful for your mother's unwavering support, the Tavares’ hospitality filled a void you never even realised existed. Their home became your home, a haven of comfort and belonging amidst the chaos of professional hockey.

Yet, as you settled into the comfort of the Tavares family house, little did you anticipate the surprising twist: sharing the basement level with none other than Matthew Knies, a rookie of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

_

Fortunately, Matthew was nothing but a sweet and kind guy, and his easy smile and friendly demeanour made it effortless to coexist in the shared space of the basement. Each evening, as you bid each other goodnight and retreated to your respective rooms, there was an unspoken understanding between you—a silent acknowledgment of the unique bond forged by sharing living quarters as well as the same intense passion for hockey.

And each morning, as you crossed paths in the hallway either of you on your way to the shared bathroom, there was a sense of togetherness that went beyond the differences in your respective hockey careers. Despite the small gulf between the PWHL and the NHL, Matthew treated you with the same kindness and respect he showed everyone else, his humility a bit of a contrast to the fame and fortune that often came with his profession.

It was in those quiet moments before the day's chaos descended upon you both, you found yourself drawn to his genuine warmth and sincerity. There was something comforting about his presence, a sense of familiarity that eased the loneliness of being away from home for the first time. And as you navigated the intricacies of living together under the same roof, you couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected friendship that blossomed between you two.

However, amidst the hustle and bustle of coordinating your busy schedules, there came an evening when fate seemed to throw a curveball, causing a brief clash of your lives.

The evening had been planned with meticulous precision—a night in with Aryne and the children, Jace, Ax, and Rae, while Matthew and John were away for training and later dinner at Mitch’s restaurant. It was a rare opportunity for you to unwind and enjoy some much-needed downtime in the midst of the chaos of professional hockey.

As Aryne then tended to the children, you did your best to assist in the bedtime routine, hoping to ease the process. Yet as the minutes stretched into hours, it became clear that Ax was proving to be a bit more resistant to sleep than anticipated, followed by Rae's unexpected awakening, requiring Aryne's undivided attention.

So, realising that your help wasn't really making much of a difference, you decided to call it quits and head for the sanctuary of a long, leisurely shower instead. With some light, cheery tunes playing in the background of the basement-level bathroom and the flicker of candles casting dancing shadows around, you allowed yourself to fully immerse in the moment, embracing the rare chance for self-care that your busy life didn't often afford.

And as the warm water enveloped you, washing away the day's stresses, you found yourself getting lost in the simple pleasure of the moment, lathering soap onto your skin and massaging shampoo into your hair. Lost in the bliss of the shower, you found yourself singing along to the music, your voice blending with the gentle rush of water. And upon stepping out of the shower and continuing with your night-time routine, you remained lost in thought until Matthew suddenly burst through the door.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n!" he exclaimed, swiftly shutting the door again.

Caught off guard, you didn't even manage to cover up your naked body in time, and while blushing a little, you realised you must have forgotten to lock the door, assuming he wouldn’t be home before you had gone to bed. So, now he’d seen you naked. Yet, you did your best to shrug it off, finishing up quickly before heading to your bedroom.

Equally embarrassed, Matthew quickly retreated to his own bedroom, mentally kicking himself for not hearing you in the bathroom and barging in, assuming you’d be in bed by then. Leaning against his door, he scolded himself softly; not only had he caught a glimpse of you naked, but he also found himself captivated by your figure.

Even an hour later, tucked into bed, the image of your body still lingered in his mind, despite his best efforts to push it away. And though it felt so wrong, considering you were his roommate and friend, he couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards you.

Matthew knew he’d liked you from the very beginning, yet the labels of roommate and friend had kept his primal instincts at bay. Every day, he pushed aside any attraction he felt towards you, which had worked perfectly well, until the moment he saw you naked.

Before he could imagine you in ways he wouldn’t be as attracted to. However, now he knew just how gorgeous you were underneath your stylish sense of fashion. 

He tried to convince himself that it was due to his intense focus on his career that had made him miss female company in general, and not specifically yours. However, lying in bed with his hard-on stirring in his boxers, images of your figure persisted in his mind. And eventually, he gave in to his desires, fantasising about your body against his as he gently stroked his shaft till, he finally came all over his hand and lower torso.

_

In the days that followed, both of you still felt a lingering awkwardness in the air. Matthew, perhaps more so, given his recent thoughts about you while climaxing. Yet, you couldn’t completely shake off those intrusive thoughts either.

After that incident, you found yourself briefly considering Matthew in a different light than before as you’d settled in for the night. You couldn’t deny your beyond good relationship and then of course his undeniable attractiveness, yet you swiftly pushed those thoughts aside when your alarm interrupted your musings the next morning, plunging you back into your routine.

However, just a few days later, on a casual Friday evening when neither of you had any games, Aryne and John kindly asked if you could watch the children for them. They hadn't had a date night in a while, and they trusted you both implicitly, given how well you looked after their little ones on a daily basis.

And naturally, you happily agreed, feeling it was the least you could do for them considering their kindness towards you both.

Despite the lingering awkwardness between you and Matthew, the evening unfolded smoothly. You cooked a delightful meal with Rea offering moral support from her highchair, while Matthew kept the boys thoroughly entertained with games of mini sticks and Nerf guns, resulting in how they were so exhausted from all the fun that it didn't take much effort to settle them in for the night. Even Rea seemed to nod off more easily than usual, leaving you and Matthew with an unexpected early moment of tranquillity in the night. And it was during the final tidying up in the kitchen that Matthew decided to address the awkwardness, hoping to ease the tension a little.

"You know," he began softly as he washed the last pans from dinner. "I... I didn't see... anything..." His voice was low and calm, his eyes briefly glancing towards you as he tried to maintain a relaxed demeanour. “The other night.” 

And you couldn't help but smile at his subtle attempt to alleviate the awkwardness. "It's alright, Kniesy... it was just an accident," you replied, flashing him a smile as you dried a pot with a towel and placed it back in its spot.

"I know, I just... um... wanted to say sorry for, you know, barging in like that," he attempted a half-smile, his face still betraying a hint of awkwardness.

"And I already said it's fine," you chuckled lightly. "I mean, I should've known it could happen, considering it's just as much your bathroom as it is mine."

"Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to be home, right," Matthew chuckled as well, setting down the sponge and leaning against the counter.

"So? Come on, Matts – so what if you saw me naked? It's not like I have anything you haven't seen before,” you tried to inject some humour into the situation.

And Matthew had to admit that was true. He had seen a woman's body before, yet this felt different somehow.

"I know, it's just... you're not exactly bad looking," he grinned, but as the words had quickly left his mouth, he realised what he'd just said.

"Oh, so you did see something?" you raised an eyebrow, flashing him a soft smirk as you too leaned against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

"Um... well... maybe," Matthew gently admitted, staring into space as he tried to gather his thoughts and words under his breath. "I mean... you do have a very... fit and strong, athletic body, you know, for a female hockey player, that is..." He tried his best to salvage the situation, but as he continued to stumble over his words, he knew it was futile.

"Ah," you grinned, looking at him while he only briefly glanced your way before turning away. "So, my body is only good-looking because I'm a female hockey player?" you teased, playful hints lacing your words. You knew he was in an awkward spot, but you couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Well, no, I mean – that's not what I meant..."

"So, what did you mean?" you asked softly, offering him a sweet smile, prompting him to let out a deep sigh.

"Just that... I don't know... you have a great body, alright?" Matthew threw his arms up in defeat and turned to face you. "You're incredibly hot, and sweet, and kind, and funny – and now I think I have a crush you since I can’t stop thinking about you. I know, I'm a terrible person, so I'll be moving out, goodnight!" he blurted out faster than you expected, softly slamming his hand down onto the counter. 

You were stunned by his sudden confession, blinking a few times as you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

"You what?" you asked softly, still in slight disbelief.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I didn't mean to make it awkward between us..." Matthew sighed again, trying to meet your eyes and offer a gentle smile.

You suddenly felt your heartbeat quicken as your eyes met his, feeling a rush of emotions in the moment of his deep confession. There was no denying it any longer. Just as Matthew admitted his attraction to you, you couldn't ignore the mutual feelings stirring within you, causing you to slightly gasp for air.

Though, not entirely sure how to proceed, you took a deep breath and tried your best to speak.

"Well, maybe," you began softly, briefly glancing down before meeting his eyes again. "Maybe I don't really mind you having seen me naked..." you confessed, causing Matthew's eyes to widen a little as he tried to grasp your message. "I mean..." you carefully continued. "Had it been the other way around... I probably couldn't stop thinking about you either..."

There was a moment of silence, the air thick and heavy between you as your eyes remained locked, your breaths deep as you both processed what had just been revealed. Then, with a small step towards you, standing tall, Matthew glanced down at you with a pleading look, meeting your eyes.

However, just as you were both about to lean in, the front door clicked open, and Aryne and John entered the home, causing you both to quickly step back.

Then greeting the couple with excitement, you both shared how smoothly the evening had been, and Aryne and John recounted the romantic night they'd finally enjoyed after so long. The atmosphere felt nothing short of wonderful as you bid them goodnight, however, as you and Matthew slowly made your way to the basement, uncertainty lingered. So, with care, you both simply smiled, letting out deep breaths before saying goodnight and retreating to your respective rooms.

Yet, as you lay in bed, sleep eluded you. Thoughts of the night, the words exchanged, replayed in your mind, keeping you awake as your thoughts circled the conversation endlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew was equally lost in thought beneath his duvet, his mind consumed by the events of the night and the possibility that you might share his feelings.

And a smile tugged at his lips as he considered it, the embarrassment of earlier slowly fading away. However, his reverie was suddenly interrupted by a soft knock on his door, pulling him from his thoughts. And curiously, he rose and opened the door, only to find you standing there in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Whether you wore anything else, he couldn't tell.

You weren't entirely sure what had spurred you into action. While you were confident on the ice, dealing with guys was not always your strong suit. Yet, the moments shared with Matthew in the kitchen had left you yearning for more, and a newfound sense of confidence had propelled you out of bed, determined to pick up where you both left off.

No words were necessary in that moment. Your eyes and desires spoke volumes as you stood before his almost naked form, his tall, athletic figure towering over you in just his boxers. And already by then, arousal stirred within you, sending tingles through your core, parting your lips as you held his gaze, your breaths deep.

So, with deliberate movements, Matthew stepped aside, silently inviting you into his room.

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. In the silence, the sensual tension hung heavy in the air as you turned to face Matthew, slowly pulling your t-shirt over your head, revealing your bare breasts and lacy knickers.

Matthew felt a surge of desire course through him as his eyes drank in the sight of your naked body, this time intentional and for a longer duration. And the mere thought that this time he could actually have the chance to feel you against him spurred him into action, closing the distance between you to capture your lips with his own.

The moment was nothing short of exquisite, a tender intimacy as your mouths moved in harmony, tongues meeting and tasting each other gently. Matthew's hands cupped your face with his large palms, while your own hands explored his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

And soon, the hunger and eagerness escalated. Giving in to temptation, you cast aside any concerns about your living situation and roles, feeling the heat ignite between you. Your bodies pressed together, skin against skin, as Matthew gently guided you onto his mattress, lying on your back, lips never parting.

In a hovering position, Matthew pressed his body against yours, his hardened member brushing against your core as the kiss intensified. It was a desperate longing shared between you both, and as if by instinct, you wrapped your legs around his lower torso, fingers tangling in his brown locks as you pulled him closer, signalling your mutual need for each other.

And as you both reluctantly pulled apart, gasping for air to refill your lungs, Matthew then took a step back, his eyes locked on yours, as if waiting for any objection, before he lowered his boxers, revealing his proud, hard length.

Yet, you didn't object. Instead, your deep desire for him couldn't be suppressed, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with hungry eyes. And your expression only spurred Matthew on, his lips moistening as he knelt before you, gently hooking two fingers under the hem of your underwear and pulling them off.

It was a moment where a line would be crossed, where there was no turning back, but neither of you could deny the longing for it. With another quick, hungry kiss shared, Matthew then began to gently trail kisses down your jawline, across your collarbone, and down to each of your breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his hand explored the opposite breast. And slowly, he then continued his descent, passing your navel and reaching the top of your heat.

You couldn't help but release a deep breath as your eyes followed his every move, instinctively falling back onto your back as soon as his mouth made contact with your sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"Oh yes..." you panted, as Matthew hooked his arms around your hips, keeping you in place while he allowed his mouth to explore your most intimate area, tasting every essence you offered, relishing in the sweet moans he caused you to emit.

It was nothing short of incredible as he pleasured you between your legs, your body responding instantly, curls tightening while one hand sought his hair to tug on, and the other reached for the pillow behind your head.

Whether it was solely his oral talents or the fact that you hadn't been with a man in a while, you quickly felt the rush of pleasure building within you, the knot in your tummy tightening as your mind became clouded. And you had to bite down on your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, mindful of the other couple and their children in the house. Despite being in the basement, you knew the walls weren't entirely soundproof.

And as Matthew continued his oral ministrations, you had to close your eyes, tilting your head back and surrendering to the rising sensation of ecstasy. Then sensing your erratic breathing and the silent cries of pleasure, Matthew freed one arm to allow two fingers to press against your entrance, easing them in.

"Mmm, fuck yes..." you moaned in a soft whisper as he skilfully multitasked, sucking on your clit while pumping his fingers in and out of your core, stimulating your walls. And it didn't take long, with his fingers curled and his mouth working wonders, to push you over the edge, eliciting a husky whisper of pleasure.

Suppressing the urge to moan loudly was challenging as waves of pleasure washed over your body, but you knew you had to, so you pressed your heels into the mattress and let yourself go, releasing your juices all over Matthew's mouth and fingers.

"Oh my god... Oh my god," you gasped for breath as you slowly came back to reality, immediately covering your head, the intensity of the pleasure causing you to squirt.

But Matthew could only chuckle lightly as he pulled away from your deliciousness, his face glistening with your essence as he gently withdrew his fingers. "Why are you saying sorry?" he whispered huskily, a proud smirk gracing his handsome features as he admired your flushed body beneath him.

"I just... I've never..." you breathed out, removing your hands from your flushed face.

"Oh," Matthew simply responded, his smirk widening as he felt a surge of pride. "Well, baby, never be sorry for that... ‘cause it's just fucking hot."

With that, he leaned in for another hungry kiss, allowing you to taste yourself as arousal surged between you. The kiss quickly became messy, as if all insecurities and uncertainties had vanished, leaving nothing but hunger and desire in their wake.

And as Matthew then pulled back once more, both of you gasping for air, he slowly got off the mattress and retrieved a condom from his bedside table before returning to cover himself up. Your eyes followed his every move, and as he returned to a missionary position, connecting your lips once more, your body instantly surrendered to him.

It felt as though the heat in the room was causing your bodies to simply meld together as he effortlessly slid his length inside you following your intense orgasm. Mentally thanking him for the incredible climax, you felt your core envelop his larger member, turning into a pool for him as he began to rock his hips, stimulating your walls with perfection once more.

Matthew knew he was well-built, his cock matching the rest of his size, and as he felt the tight warmth of your embrace around him, he saw nothing but stars. Your muscles felt incredible as he let his shaft glide in and out of you, his fingers gripping the sheets on either side of you as he uncontrollably picked up the pace.

And with each thrust, each surge of force, your moans mingled softly, both of you mindful of the noise level. Yet the pleasure was almost overwhelming, consuming you entirely. Your fingernails dug into the skin on the back of Matthew’s shoulders as he pounded into you, the tip of his cock hitting your G-spot repeatedly. And as the stimulation unintentionally caused you to clench around him, it only propelled him closer to his own climax.

With the sound of your bodies colliding, mixed with your soft cries and whimpers, Matthew couldn’t help but increase his speed and force once more. And with several more thrusts, he sent you both over the edge, causing you to release a deep breath as you sank back into the mattress, your eyes closed while his name fell from your lips. Meanwhile, he let out a deep grunt as he released himself into the condom, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

It was a moment of pure pleasure as the euphoria consumed your minds, your sweaty and heated bodies collapsing together. And only slowly, you both found your way back to reality, regaining your senses and catching your breath.

Then when Matthew finally found the strength to rise again, you couldn’t help but share smiles in the dim light of his bedroom. It was nothing short of blissful, having finally given in to the intense desire for each other. And though you knew you might have crossed a line in your living situation, in that moment, you didn’t care.

Instead, you simply relished in the feeling of your bodies connected as you regained control of your breathing. Yet eventually, Matthew had to gently withdraw from you and went to the bathroom to discard the condom. 

And lying on his bed, your body still tingling from the pleasure, you too found the strength to join him in the bathroom, where you both helped each other clean in the shower. Your movements and touches remained slow and soft, but your kisses were deep and passionate. And with Matthew's strength, he effortlessly lifted you into his arms before pressing you against the cool tiles and deepening the kiss even further.

Never in your life had you slept as soundly and deeply as you did that night, wrapped in the arms of Matthew Knies.

_

You knew it wouldn't be long before Aryne and John caught on to your little fling. Despite your efforts to keep it low-key while focusing on your careers, living in such proximity made it easy to sneak into each other's rooms for late-night or early-morning activities.

So soon enough, things came to a head when the number of used condoms began to pile up in the bin, and the truth couldn't be ignored any longer when Aryne accidentally stumbled upon the evidence of your interactions.

It was then that you all agreed that perhaps one or both of you should start looking for your own place to stay. There were no hard feelings, as neither Aryne nor John were upset about how your relationship had developed. However, it was clear to everyone that having two young adults attracted to each other under the same roof was perhaps a bit too much for the family of five.

#my asks #18+ smut #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey smut

[junggunz]

tape it slow ft. eli jang | 🔞

summary: eli doesn't like that there have been rumors of you collabing with another streamer on the adult site the two of you are popular on. so, before that newbie can lay a finger on you, he takes matters into his own hands. cw: fembodied reader, established relationship, SMUT, camboy!au eli, camgirl!reader, literal crumb of plot (it's in the same universe as camboy!goo LOL), oral (f and m receiving), simulated voyeurism (reader and eli are both aware they're being filmed), p in v, wc: 2.9k an: 69ing with eli has now been checked off the to do list uwu.

Eli doesn’t like to think he’s in competition with any of the other male streamers on the platform even if the viewers see it that way. He knows that there’s no one quite like him. If he was another generic pretty face, he wouldn’t have so many fans flocking to the adult site, making accounts and paying a monthly subscription solely to see more of him. He has nothing to prove to anyone so there’s no use flaunting and being boisterous about how much money he makes; especially when haters lurk around the corner, ready to throw it back in his face that he’s a father and engaging in “immoral” behavior just to make money is shameful. Nothing really phases him in this field of work after doing it for so long.

However, what does manage to get under Eli’s skin is that the top cam model on the site had expressed interest in working with someone other than him. 

A harmless crush had led to him popping into your streams. Watching your streams led to him leaving the occasional message in your chat, often getting lost in the thirsty comments made by your fans. Then by stroke of luck, his messages being noticed by you would lead to messaging each other in private and speaking often. In his mind, Eli had done everything right— he was kind and courteous to you with no ulterior motives, your friendship progressed organically and he never asked you to promote his channel or even watch his streams. He thought by now, the two of you would discuss doing some sort of collaboration on content since the two of you were in the same tier of popularity. Alas, he heard through the grapevine that a certain blond, novice streamer would beat him to the punch. 

Eli could admit to himself that he may have been in the wrong for assuming that you’d want to work with him and feeling entitled to it, but based on the playful borderline amorous conversations he would have with you, he figured there was some sort of mutual spark between the two of you. Wanting to get to the bottom of things, as soon as he heard the rumors of your upcoming collab, he called you. 

“Hey, Eli. How are you? I was just-” Your voice is cheery when you answered his call; more proof that you do like him along with the fact you had answered on the first ring. But he wasn’t seeking any more validation.

“How come you never asked to collab with me?” Eli questioned immediately, his voice calm and even; genuinely curious about why he wasn’t on your radar. 

From your end of the line, he could  hear you do that little laugh you do in your streams. The laugh when a viewer asks a question that’s a little too personal or out of pocket. He could practically envision the small lopsided smile of amusement on your face and the way you shift in your seat awkwardly in these types of situations. 

“I wanted to work with you for a long time, honestly. Like, even before we started talking…” You started off gently, your tone of voice eerily reminding him of all the times he’s faced rejection. “It’s just that you have really scary fangirls.” You let out another sweet sounding laugh before going into a long tangent about what you’ve seen his fans say online but at that point, Eli’s mind went blank.

So, he was never the issue, his fans were. That puts things into perspective for him 

“If I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about my fans, would you want to work together?”

After making the suggestion, Eli explained the idea he hatched and much to his delight, you’re just as elated as he is to finally see each other in person. 

All he had to do was wait for the day to come.

When the day finally comes, it’s like a normal outing between friends—you talk, you go out for a light meal and some drinks then return to his place to speak in a more private setting— there’s just one thing that’s different. Your time together is being not-so secretly filmed. 

Eli had pitched the idea of emulating one of those voyeuristic secret camera pornos to you. As much as he hated the idea of filming someone without their consent, the genre was insanely popular. He wouldn’t have to stress about perfect camera set up and getting into sex positions where he could keep the camera steady. There was no need to fuss about professional lighting and quality editing. And most importantly, he wouldn’t have to name drop you to ensure it was a hit.

He knew that the idea was a good one but to hear you tell him how great it was gave him the extra confidence boost needed to perform.  

You sit on the edge of Eli’s bed, shyly and totally unaware of the hidden cameras placed around his room facing your direction. Effectively selling the idea of a first date Eli’s hand rests on your thigh while the two of you idly chatter, his fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt. The shy giggles and the warm flush that heats up your neck and face are all genuine reactions to his touch. He’s so nonchalantly speaking to you about normal things while his hand gets bolder, venturing under your skirt and groping your inner thigh. Goosebumps rise along your skin as his fingers spider higher and higher; not even realizing his face was getting closer until you feel his lips on yours.   

 The intensity he kisses you with makes your mind go blank and your body is on autopilot, letting him guide you and maneuver you as he pleases. So pliant and willing, Eli briefly wonders if the role of being submissive is what comes natural to you or if you’re just really good at acting. Once the short lived thought passes, what’s at the forefront of his mind is getting between your legs and seeing if your lips down there were as soft and sweet as the lips on your face. 

Though you didn’t put up much of a fuss when Eli was making out with you and coaxing you out of your clothes while feeling you up, when you notice his kisses moving lower and lower, you grab him by the shoulders to hold him in place. Before he can get out the words to ask you what was wrong, you’re nonverbally instructing him to lay on his back.  Once in position, you shimmy out of your panties then climb on top of him; letting him get up close and personal with the treasure between your legs while you face the boxer clad length twitching beneath its confines. 

Just seeing the outline of him through the tight briefs had your mouth salivating—almost as if your body knew that you would need the extra lubrication to welcome his size into your throat. When you finally unveil his cock, you audibly gasp. Realizing he rivaled one of your biggest toys, any shred of confidence you had flies out the window. Alas, faking it was a big part of the porn industry and today you would have to pretend that you weren’t worried about his dick making you tap out before you even started. 

The moment you reach to grab the base of his shaft, Eli takes this as the green light to dive right into you. As soon as you had put that pussy in his face, he was dying to get a taste. The minute you took to strip him out of his boxers and brace yourself for his cock had felt like forever in his mind.  After months of watching you on cam, seeing you, feeling you and finally tasting you in person was well worth the wait. Tongue dragging languidly from your clit to your fluttering hole, he laps up all the honey leaking out of you; his taste buds going into overdrive as he tries to decipher the complex taste of your arousal. 

More vocal than you expected as he eats you out, it’s hard to focus on trying to get Eli’s cock thoroughly coated in your spit to prep him for your throat when you hear the raspy grunts falling past his lips. With each swipe of his tongue against your folds, his length pulses beneath your palm. With his hands played on the back of your thighs, he keeps you nice and spread open for him, kissing and practically making out with your dripping cunt then transitioning into hungry suckles and slurps.  Every time he buries his face in your wetness, his nose brushes against your folds in the most salacious manner causing sweet whines and whimpers of his name to fall past your lips.

“Oh my god, Eli—” You pant, trying to claw your way out of the thick haze clouding your mind so you could finally return the favor and give him some pleasure too. Even if he seemed so pussy drunk already, his tongue totally feral as it tasted you inside and out.

Your moans had escalated in volume so much, it was enough to snap you out of your lewd reveries of how hot Eli must have looked while he ate you out so ferociously. Swallowing thickly as you eye his cock, you finally get enough courage to put your mouth on him. Carefully swirling your tongue along his tip, you take more and more into your mouth. Saliva leaks from the corners of your mouth as you finally have him filling the warm orifice. The tip of his cock is nicely embedded in the back of your throat by the time you take all of him; every single miniscule vibration from the little moans you make as he continues to feast on your pussy going straight to his dick. 

Licking long stripes along the length of his shaft while gradually bobbing your head along him faster, it’s hard to tell who’s making more noise. Slobbering all over his length, creating a vacuum like suction on his cock with muffled moans reverberating in your chest, you’re the farthest thing from silent. And Eli is in a similar predicament, shamelessly groaning into your cunt as he gets lost in his own pleasure created by the mere act of tasting you while you suck him off. Quite honestly, he was content in this position. He could die happily between your plush thighs. Though he didn’t want to think about this encounter ending, Eli knew that the warmth of your pussy on his tongue was something he would fantasize about for ages. 

And when the ministrations of his tongue prove to be too much and you involuntarily cum all over his face, he thanks the heavens that this intimate moment was being documented. The way your body quivers on top of his to you letting out the whiniest garbled moans along his cock as you had tried to hold off your climax. It was all so precious. But you cumming on his face once wouldn’t stop him. He continues to lap at your cunt, licking up the remains of your orgasm even as your hips buck and try to escape him due to your sensitivity. 

Whether the tears pricking your eyes were the result of your intense finish or from Eli’s cock nudging your gag reflex every so often, your vision is blurred and vivid colors dance behind your eyelids as you try to blink away the stray tears. It seems to bother you more so than Eli as you release his cock from the warmth of your mouth since he was still happily lapping at your pussy, your breathing comes out ragged. Just as you feared, you had broken down before you made him cum in your mouth. But you were so far gone, the little pity party you have for yourself doesn’t last long before you’re begging to be released from the intense lashings of Eli’s tongue. 

“I can’t take it anymore.” You say, voice coming out slightly hoarse. “Need you inside.” 

With the way his cock twitches at the sound of your words, you thought he would heed to your desires immediately. However, you had severely estimated how much Eli liked eating you out. 

“You don’t wanna cum on my face one more time?” He coos gently, his hand trailing from your thigh to rub at your throbbing pussy when he takes his mouth off you. “You made me wait so long. The least you can do is let me taste more of this pussy.”

How easily he speaks those lewd words sends shivers down your spine and your hole is fluttering in desire, aching to be filled. When he speaks that seductively to you, you almost feel bad for rejecting his wishes. 

“Eli, you can have that next time. I need you to fuck me now.” You state in the firmest tone you could, trying to not let your voice waver when you feel the pads of his fingers grazing your clit. 

The mention of there being a next time seems to be what causes Eli to relent before he gently pats your butt, signaling that it was time to change positions.

Finding yourself on your back with Eli towering above you and licking the clear gloss of arousal that lingered on his lips as he took in your current state. Hair disheveled. Skin shining with a light layer of perspiration. Twitching inner thighs decorated your own arousal. It was so enticing and it was even more satisfying knowing that he was the one who got you like this. 

“So pretty,” He muses, mostly to himself before taking hold of your thighs and pushing them to your chest so he could get a better look at your pussy once again. 

Eli’s cock is hard and heavy against your folds when he moves closer, letting his shaft glide along your arousal. You shiver every time he grazes your clit, unable to stay still until you feel his tip teasing your entrance. Freezing up, just the mere sensation of the head breaching the tight ring of muscle has you consumed with anticipation. Were you scared of him splitting you in half with his massive cock? Perhaps just a little. But what really had you nervous was how quick he could probably make you cum because of how sensitive you were from orgasming on his tongue. 

“How do you like it? Gentle? Rough? Fast or slow?” He asks you softly, his voice full of warmth and giving you a strange sense of comfort that pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“Be gentle first.” You respond in a coy manner, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck and fanning across your face. 

Leaning in to give you a quick reassuring kiss on the forehead, Eli slowly eases his cock into you; eyes trained on your face to see your reaction as he feeds you each thick inch of his shaft. You’re so shy and cute to him with the way you avoid his gaze, opting to gawk at your point of connection. Jaw hung open in a silent moan, you watch his length burrowing deeper into your warmth. It’s a mostly pleasurable stretch until he bottoms out and you tense up from a sudden sprinkling of pain you recognize as the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. Your thighs want to lock up around him but he holds your legs firmly against your chest, keeping you spread open for him to devour with his eyes. 

Hips pulling back, the pain fades just as suddenly as it had come and he rocks into your heat slow and sensually, causing both of you to let out harmonious moans together. By the time Eli develops a consistent, slow and steady pace, you feel more than confident being able to take something more exhilarating but the mere feeling of having him rubbing up against all the good spots within you leaves you speechless. He’s putting in so little effort and all of these salacious noises are leaving you. 

Finally brave enough to make eye contact with him, the arduous flames of desire dancing behind Eli’s pupils sends a shiver down your spine as you look at him with an equally needy expression that piques his interest; his lips curling into a pleased smirk.

“Want me to fuck you harder now, baby?” He asks in a saccharine tone, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Wanna find out what you’ve been missing out on?” 

You nod eagerly, the verbal response you had rehearsed in your head several times over dying on your tongue when he shifts the angle of his thrusts and the head of his cock makes contact with the sweet spot nestled in your gummy walls.

“You’re a big girl. You can use your words to beg me.” Eli tells you, smirk growing wider and his eyes growing darker when he sees the look of shock wash over your face as he keeps stimulating your sensitive area and hearing your own moans keep cutting off what he assumes are the beginnings of your sentences.  

Eli had patiently waited for his time with you. The last thing he wanted was the night to end too soon. Seeing how speechless he made you, it'd probably be a while before you were able to find enough mental clarity to get your words out. And even if it meant having to spend hours cutting down and editing the footage he recorded with you; you were definitely worth the time and effort to him.

#lookism x reader #lookism smut #eli jang smut #eli jang scenarios #eli jang x reader #junggunz.txt

[triplexdoublex]

What The Cuck?

Parings: Pete x Reader / Colson x Reader

Warnings/tags: Cuckholding, squirting, P In V sex, Anal sex, Anal gaping, cum play, cum farting, make shift cock ring, dirty talk, degradation.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this, and that it was worth the wait! I’m opening anons back up.

“That’s it, Pete! I’m done, I’m leaving!” You shouted in the middle of a heated argument.

“Oh yeah, where you gonna go!?” Pete fired back as you made your way to the front door.

“I dunno, maybe I’ll go to back to Colson—he fucks me better than you do anyways!!” You let the door slam behind you.

The second it left your lips you regretted it. You were so caught up in the argument you were just saying things to be hurtful and spiteful at that point— even if there was a hint of truth to it.

It’s not that sex with Pete was bad by any means, but, yeah, Colson was definitely better. You had dated Colson for a few years, prior to you dating Pete, but things had ended amicably— just due to his hectic schedule.

You had gotten close to Pete through his friendship with Colson, and with him being more available, your friendship seemed to naturally progress into something more. Colson didn’t mind, a lot of people in their friends group had dated the same girls before, plus you were still on friendly terms with Colson, so it made group hangouts a lot less awkward.

You hoped your angry outburst wouldn’t affect their friendship, especially after you and Pete had made up and got back together. Neither of you brought it up. You silently hoped he had forgotten about it, much like how you both seemed to forget what had even started the silly argument in the first place. But you couldn’t help but notice the way he began acting when you both were around Colson lately; the way Pete tensed up when ever Colson got close to you, the way Pete would fuck you so hard the second you were alone again, like he had something to prove. At least that’s what you assumed, but the truth is Pete had a very different reason for the way he’d been acting. A reason that all came to light one day after an afternoon at Colson’s, followed by an intense fuck by Pete.

You had barely finished coming down from your high and catching your breath when Pete brought it up.

“So uhh, I’ve been thinking .. a-about what you said when we were fighting — ya know umm , what you said about Colson—”

“Pete, I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have said that , I was just mad and—”

“But you meant it? Didn’t you? He fucked you better than me.” Pete said, the last part sounding more like a statement than a question.

“Pete I-I” you stuttered , giving yourself away “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me he fucked you better than me!” His breathing increased and his flaccid dick slowly started springing to life again. “I wanna hear you say it!”

“Pete what the hell is —”

“Just say it! —PLEASE!” He cut you off , hand reaching for his hardening cock.

“Fine—! Uhhhh.. Colson fucked me better than you!— Happy?”

And happy he was; his shaft standing at full mast once more as he worked himself at lighting speed, “AGAIN!” He pleaded.

“Colson fucked me better than YOU!” You obliged, confused as hell but turned on nonetheless.

“Ughh Fuck— s-say something else.. about you and Colson , I’m- I’m so close!”

“At least Colson’s made me squirt before!” You teased.

That was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed , his cock fountaining over his fist.

“Pete. what the—” you were at a loss for words, but strangely into whatever the fuck was going on.

“I have no idea, all I know is that day we were fighting…and you said Colson fucks you better than me and slammed the door…I’ve…I’ve never been that hard in my life…haven’t been able to stop thinking about Colson fucking you since,” Pete admitted, out of breath. “Do you think Colson would … if .. if I asked?”

“Lemme get this straight — y-you wanna watch Colson fuck me?” You asked, completely flabbergasted.

“Yeah and not just that— like I want you both to tell me what a piece of shit I am in bed.”

“But — but you’re not! Colson’s not even that much b—”

“Just indulge me, ok?” Pete cut you off.

“Man, and I thought Colson had some weird kinks!” You teased. “But to answer your earlier question.. yeah, I think Colson would absolutely do it.”

“And umm.. uhh— what about you?”

“If you're really serious about this then, yeah, I guess I would. I mean , I’ve already had sex with him before so I don’t think it’d be a big deal.”

***********

“So you’re a cuck!?” Colson exclaims with a chuckle, after Pete proposes the idea the next time the three of you are alone together at Colson’s house.

“A what?” Pete questions

“A cuck— C’mom Pete, there’s a whole category on pornhub for this shit, what’d you think you were special cuz you wanna be degraded while you watch your girl get fucked?

“Well excuuuse me, for not being an expert in kink terminology like you” Pete jokes nervously. “So will you do it or not?”

“Oh I’ll do it alright,” Colson smirks as he makes his way over to the couch in his bedroom, where you’re sitting next to Pete.

Your abdomen churns with desire with every step he takes towards you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with him in this way and you almost feel guilty at how much you’re eagerly awaiting his touch, his cock, his everything.

“I’d love to hear about how this came up,” Colson teases as he pulls you off the couch to your feet and roughly spins you around to face Pete. “You gonna tell me the story, pretty girl?” He prompts, from behind you, lips ghosting along the side of your neck and a hand slowly gliding up your inner thigh, causing your clit to swell with excitement.

You gulp with nervous anticipation before speaking as Colson’s fingers begin to disappear under the hem of your pleated skirt, and Pete’s eyes widen. “W—we had an argument, and I …Mmhhhm.. I said some things,” you let out a moan mid sentence, his fingertips having found your already engorged bud.

“You told him I fucked you better, didn’t you?” He roughly cups your pussy with his large hand, a smirk present in his tone. You nod, but it’s not good enough for him, he wants to hear you say it. “C’mon baby, you know I like it when you use your words.”

You let out a meek “yes” in response but he still wants more.

“Full sentences baby, and look at Pete when you say it.” He roughly jerks your jaw up with his free hand, forcing you to make eye contact with Pete. “Tell him who fucks you better!”

You look to Pete with unsure eyes— this is all so strangely alluring but a small part of you is still worried about hurting his feelings. But Pete gives a reassuring nod, letting you know it’s ok.

“Colson— Colson fucks me better than you!” You continue.

Instantly, you swear you can actually see Pete’s pupils darken and expand with lust — he’s truly enjoying this.

“Damn right I do!” Colson licks a bold stripe up your neck. “Did you tell him I can make you squirt?” He questions. “And use your words this time!” He warns, intensifying his grasp between your thighs.

“I did.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should do more than just tell him, maybe we should show him,” he growls in your ear as he slips your skirt off your hips and down your thighs, followed by your panties, helping you step out of them. “Feel how fucking wet your girl is for me.” Colson says tossing your soaked panties at Pete.

“Jesus, babe!” Pete gasps looking at you after catching the saturated fabric in his hand, his voice cracking into a brief laugh of disbelief at just how truly drenched they are.

“Bet you never get her that wet!” Colson mocks, and a wave of guilt mixed with humiliation wages over you, because there’s no denying that Colson’s right.

But Pete doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the revelation, in fact he stuffs your wet undergarment down his pants and begins rubbing himself with them, all while keeping his eyes intensely locked on you and Colson. He watches wide eyed as Colson shoves you forward. You’re practically straddling Pete’s lap from where you stand now, your stance widening as Colson inserts two long slender fingers inside of you.

“Mmmm Fuck!” You cry out, your hips already bucking against his hand when his fingertips reach your G-Spot; each prod against it an erotic novel being written in Morse code. Your arousal is plentiful and squelches audibly between his fingers as you begin to tighten around his slick digits. Moan after incoherent moan fall from your lips, as he expertly works your spot.

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers. You’re already close, Huh?” He teases with a laugh. “I still remember all your tells,” he smirks. “And I still remember how right when you start to cum you let out that little sque—”

And as if on cue your voice cracks, your moans morphing into a shrill squeak as your orgasm warmly pulses to life in your abdomen.

“Ahh there it,” Colson chuckles smuggly, watching as your release gushes onto Petes lap; the soft light denim of his jeans now morphing into dark patches of midnight blue, all while Pete’s hand moves furiously beneath their fabric.

Pete’s speechless, his eyes flicking from you to the mess in his lap and back again in exhilarating disbelief like an unsuspecting passersby of some David Blayne-eques street magic. It was one thing to watch some strange girl in a porn squirt a million miles away behind the screen of his laptop, but it was another experience entirely to watch it live in front of him, as his own girl soaked his lap at the hands of his best friend.

“Annnd that my friends is the look of a man who’s never made a girl squirt in his life!” Colson taunts with a chuckle, while licking his fingers clean. “And don’t even think for a second that I’m done with her yet.”

Without warning Colson grabs you roughly from behind and maneuvers you in the direction of the bed, tossing you face down on his mattress. “ Ass up, you know how I like it.” He instructs before snatching off your remaining clothing.

You’ve barely even had a chance to come down from your first orgasm — in fact you're still dripping- when you hear Colson fumbling with his belt behind you. And the next thing you know he’s inside you, not even giving you a moment to adjust, his huge cock stretches you so deliciously, so perfect, each thrust pummeling your g-spot just like you remember.

“Fuck, Colson— so good.” You cry out.

“Yeah, you like this big dick deep in your guts, huh you little slut? Want me to keep fucking in front of your man like the fucking whore that you are?”

“Yess!” You moan breathily. God, he could dirty talk like no other.

“I know what else you like—” he proceeds to lick his thumb. “You like this pretty pink asshole played with, don’t you? He begins tracing his slick thumb in circles over the tight ring of muscle, slowly coaxing it open enough for him to slip his thumb inside” Your breath hitches in pleasure as it enters you.

“Mmmhmm FUCK! I missed my ass being played with like this.”

“Missed?” Colson’s questions. “Don’t tell me my boy Pete over here is too much of a pussy for some anal play?” He says, giving his friend a dirty look.

“It’s ‘not his thing’.” You mock while making direct eye contact with Pete.

“Can’t even give your girl what she wants— Pathetic !!!” Colsons fires his words in Pete’s direction, while he rotates his thumb inside you. “Now your sorry ass can sit there and watch ME give it to her.”

Pete’s eating this up, every teasing and taunting word spat his way traveling straight to dick. So much so that Pete desperately needs out of the hellish confines of his jeans to work himself more vigorously. His dark, wide pupils stay locked on the scene before him as he quickly lowers his pants down and over his pale ass to their final resting place right above his knees, and pulls out his cock, your soaked panties tumbling out with it.

Colson’s long slender body contours to your curves as he leans forward to seductively whisper in your ear “Should I loosen you up a little more, since it’s been so long? Or you think you can take me?”

“Fuck, Colson! Just give it to me!”

You know it’s gonna hurt, but you're so desperate to feel him back there again that you don’t care — besides in the words of Colson himself ‘a little bit of pain kinda make it feel good sometimes.’

With nothing but remnants of your arousal and his own spit as lube he begins his taboo entrance into what most only consider an exit. You relax your body and breathe through the inevitable discomfort of adjusting to his size, just as he had taught you years ago.

“Good girl, that’s it, breathe.” He praises. “You know it’s gonna feel so good in a minute.” He gently caresses your hips, helping you relax further.

By the time his length is fully inserted the pain has already begun to subside, replaced by the most intoxicating pleasurable fullness; every tiny nerve ending inside you set ablaze. God, you’ve missed the unique sensation. He feels impossibly deep, but yet somehow you crave him deeper.

“Fuck, Colson. Right there” you cry out as you push back against him; your backside now pressed appropriately against his XXX tattoo.

Just when you think it can’t possibly feel anymore pleasureful he begins to move inside you, slow at first, drawing his hips back until he almost slips out, then steadily forward until his hips kiss your backside again, his thick length reaching that pleasurable spot deep within you.

“So good, sooo FUCK-ing good, Oh My God , Colson!” You babble, already inebriated off his cock.

“Mmmmm Yeah, say my name again, remind Pete who fucks you right!”

It’s at this point you realize you’ve been so lost in the pleasure your ex is giving you that you completely forgot your boyfriend exists, nevermind the fact that he’s in the same room .. watching!

A cocktail of arousal and guilt swirl in your abdomen as you look towards Pete. Lucky for you he hasn’t seen to notice, too lost in his own fantasy-come-to-life playing out in front of him.

Suddenly, Pete’s head lolls back, his eyes slip shut and his eyebrows knit together ; a sign you know all too well.

“Gonna— Mmmm Fuck!, Gonna cum first like usual?” You taunt Pete through shattered moans.

Determined not to prove you right, Pete stills his motions for a moment and tightly grips himself at the base, silently wishing he had a cockring to restrict blood flow and help him last longer.

Pete adjusts his position on the couch while trying to gain some composure before he busts, his free hand coming down on something wet — you’re panties from earlier. The discovery sparks an idea. In an act of pure desperation, Pete fashions a makeshift cockring from the garment, quickly twisting the elastic waistband around the base of his cock, veins bulging almost immediately. Despite his best efforts he knows he isn’t buying himself that much more time, especially when he notices the way your arousal from your unplugged hole is dripping down your inner thighs like thick honey; so sweet he can almost taste it.

Colson's stamina is unmatched, he could drill your asshole for hours on end if you really needed him too, but he knows you're ready to cum by the way your legs are beginning to shake. You can feel it too, the way your lower abdomen squeezes and tightens climbing it way to the peak, and then just like a rollercoaster it comes surging down at a break-neck speed, an endless series of loop de loops as you climax hard. Your body is useless,, unable to even hold itself up on all fours while Colson’s warm cum fills you to the brim.

Quickly Colson pulls out and props you back up, turning your body so your ass faces Pete, and spreads your cheeks open. “Uhgmm, yeahh, fuck!” His voice is dry and raspy “Show Pete that gape, and show Pete how I came inside you, push it all out baby, let him see.”

You do as you’re told, and Pete cums, forcefully fountaining over his fist at the site of his best friends cum bubbling and farting out of your used hole.

The three of you are blissfully silent in the aftermath but it’s quite clear by everyone’s euphoric expression this will definitely be happening again .

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #colson baker smut #mgk smut #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker fanfic #Pete Davidson #Pete Davidson smut

[sarahmadisonxoxo]

Steve Harrington has trained himself in the art of saying goodbye before a relationship actually ends. Whether that be friends, potential partners, or anyone besides maybe Dustin and the rest of his six kids.

The change is subtle. Steve had been through it so many times that he stopped noticing the moment he started pulling away from people. The moment his thoughts would start lying to his heart. Slowly. Gradually pulling itself away until the inevitable fact of being left alone happened.

His own parents hadn’t wanted him. Wasn’t that supposed to be one of the strongest bonds people could share? One between a parent and child. Something about blood being thicker than water. If he’d been broken enough for his own parents to reject him... why would anyone ever want him?

He’d been desperate to prove the hateful voices in his head wrong. Willing to do almost anything to feel important. To feel like he fit in somewhere. He’d gone so far as to change his entire personality... taking on the persona of the respected and ever-beloved King Steve. Going on with the idea that he’d permanently lock that broken child somewhere deep in his memories to never see the light again. His younger self would be locked away, but at least he’d be safe.

There had been a moment, with Nancy, when he’d felt safe to be a little less like King Steve and more like Steve. She was a good person. Nancy wasn’t only beautiful, but she was brave, compassionate, and easily one of the smartest people he’d ever known. Nancy accepted people for who they were. It was the answer to his prayers. His manifestations coming true. Finally, he was being given someone that could accept him... even for the broken parts.

‘ Bullshit’

The word hit like a final nail in his coffin. Shattering his heart in a way that he hadn’t figured out how to fix.

It worked easier this way... handing out pieces of himself. He didn’t have to give the most vulnerable pieces, instead handing out the parts he didn’t mind losing.

Robin had been one of the first people in a long time he gave a larger part of himself to. After she’d opened up to him on a gross bathroom floor at the Starcourt Mall. Nearly dying with him at the hands of the Russians. It felt safe to trust her... Robin was his soulmate with a capital P for platonic. Their friendship helped him start piecing himself together. Slowly, but progress was progress.

During his days at working at Starcourt he purposely struck out with dates. It was easier for the world to assume he was hitting a rough patch than to let them know he was ready to give up on love.

Enough time with Robin had him ready to start again... He actually tried to get dates, and let it just appear that he was getting his game back.

Countless dates... none of them made him want to risk his heart again. Lovely women. The issue sat solely on his own shoulders...

Eddie Munson pinned him to a wall with a broken bottle at his throat.

Vecna happened.

According to Eddie... Nancy hadn’t hesitated to jump in Lovers Lake to save him.

The world was practically ending again... running back to Nancy felt safe. Easy. Familiar. If only he’d known how stupid he’d feel when he came to realize Nancy just couldn’t love him. She never would.

Surprisingly Nancy’s rejection didn’t break him again, sure it hurt like hell. It struck him hard, but he survived it.

Days turned into Months. Seasons changed, Spring to Fall then Winter.

“ Weary travelers.. it appears your Royal Carriage awaits and I wouldn’t want to delay the King’s plans. We will pick up next week” Eddie’s eyes looked up from the table to Steve, leaning against the doorframe, returning his gaze back to the table. Amusement burst on his face at the annoyed groans and mutters of the kids.

“ They are all yours... your grace.” Eddie’s gaze once again flickered up toward Steve.

“ Steve... My name is Steve man. “

“ Steve, you are free to take your kids”

“ Thank you..” Steve chuckled.

“ Anytime..”

Steve ignored how his heart jumped due to Eddie’s smile, being under his gaze. If there was anything he didn’t need it was to fall for someone else..

Only he was afraid he was too late...man this one was going to sting.  

#steddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve/eddie #stranger things

[luxstring]

Before I begin, let me just say that I am not trying to defame this person in anyway, that’s not my goal, my goal is to show what I discovered in their post and leave it at that. Do not harass the user that I will be bringing up, that’s not the outcome I want.

A few months ago, I saw a mutual of mine reblog a post of someone’s drawing of a twisted wonderland character and then the original beside it to compare, and I won’t lie, it looked traced. So I went to the ops account and found their other works, the op goes by the username kazenomegaminowanpisu. The one that caught my eyes was their BNHA work and realized that some of the panels looked traced from the anime and one was I THINK from someone else’s work. So I messaged them about it in private and of course they denied ever tracing but used the screenshots as reference. I asked if i can see their progress and I was denied the request.

That was the first red flag for me. If you say you didn’t trace but deny a simple request of a video of your progress, I hope you realize how bad that looks for you.

The second red flag was when she mentioned I wasn’t the only who had suspicions of her tracing others work. If more than one person has been cautious of your work, prove them wrong, address it. Bring proof other than a screenshot of your reference and the one you drew in your style, or else nothing will change and one day another person will ask you about this.

Before I reveal what i found, I’ll be leaving a link on the difference between tracing, copying, and referencing, by chihirohowe

https://www.instagram.com/p/CJZP2McJU4M/

If the link doesn’t work then I’ll upload the images, and of course, the credit still goes to chihirohowe

Click 'Keep Reading' to see what I found

[I kept trying to find the Og artist for the all the jojo art using reverse image but it kept leading me back to pinterest] The chibi art is from a game called Tears Of themis, Company being hoyoverse.

Now, she did write that she used a reference for the chibi art but left no link for the image she used. That’s not really giving credit is it? She’s using a company property, the least she could’ve done is leave a link or the image she used for the reference

These ones art commissions made by her (yes the cosplay pic and her work aligned with one another, same with the cat) She didn’t even mention that she traced or credit the manhwa The broken ring or The artist of the cat witch, who is Nikury

That’s all I have to show and say. Again, I don’t want nor wish to defame her, I only want to bring this up, that’s all.

[venusjailer]

Will I ever stop pathologising the AP main characters and creating incredibly detailed backgrounds riddled with childhood trauma? It’s unlikely!

(INSANELY LONG) (LIKE INSANELY) (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) EXPLANATIONS BELOW

(And If you have hc’s feel free to share!)

Patrick: cmon. The entire plot of AP is literally him just begging to be noticed.

Bro is devoid of attention right until the very last scene (aka the one with his lawyer). Sorry to all the SiGmA mALe AMPS fans but this is not a “sigma 🥶”, this is a man who did not receive a MORSEL of affection during his formative years.

His obsession with ‘fitting in’ (ie being accepted and therefore cared about) through his clothes, his looks, his social circle; his outbursts of intense emotion and inability to regulate them (almost as if he was never taught how to do so); the way he views the women in his life in an almost maternal way (namely Evelyn and Jean) - he just needs a hug!!!

And some intense therapy. And heavy duty psych meds.

Paul: this one is partly canonical, partly not.

The way that his character is almost revered by the other guys at P&P is interesting; he comes over as this über cool, competent, successful finance bro almost to a greater extent than they think they are.

But then he gets drunk with Patrick away from the office and from the constraints of corporate professionalism and becomes this silly goofy little guy.

I don’t necessarily think his work ‘persona’ is an act: I think it’s the parts of himself that he has to accentuate in order to succeed.

Also - I took influence for this from the amazing Paul character studies written by my dear friend @leoblooms on AO3 - please check them out

Luis: this one is pretty self-explanatory.

He’s the only confirmed canonically queer character in AP (although, come on, Patrick’s canon closet is made of glass at this point). And yet - in a way that so many LGBT+ people have suffered with throughout history and sadly even to this day - he can never, ever show it. Being openly gay in his environment would make him a social pariah.

Instead, he has to fit in: he’s marrying a woman, he’s acting like ~one of the guys~, he’s hoping that he can suffocate that part of himself by burying it six feet underground. But as so many of us know all too well: you can’t hide who you are forever. The bathroom scene with Patrick just proves this.

I also wanted to make a note of this because it’s very interesting to me - I read the most AMAZING fic a couple of years ago that was written from Courtney’s perspective, and in it it was mentioned that Luis is Catholic. I’m a Christian as well (from a famously progressive denomination) and although a lot of attitudes are changing within the Catholic Church, particularly right now, the ‘gay = sin’ mentality does prevail for many.

So it makes sense that if Luis was raised Catholic he has been suppressing that part of himself for a very long time. I can see him lying to himself and having girlfriends in high school.

Courtney: my literal baby girl. I’ve written a whole 18k character study on her because I find her so canonically fascinating.

My headcanon is that her father was absent from her life from a young age - but this is rooted in how she actually acts in the source material.

In the boardroom scene, Luis thanks Patrick for “taking care of Courtney last night”. To me, it sounds like he’s taking on a role that’s almost paternal. She is also notably reliant, and almost clingy, on the men in her life: telling Patrick she can’t go out because she’s waiting for Luis to call, and practically begging Patrick to call her after they’ve slept together.

Additionally there’s the whole ‘fucking my best friend’s boyfriend’ thing - I’m getting WAY off topic here but I see so much of her in Cassie from Euphoria. Unless someone is purposefully malicious and nasty, I think there’s always a reason for that kind of thing, even if it is complex and unsavoury.

I hate to use the term “daddy issues” because it absolves absent/abusive fathers of all of their damage and unfairly places the blame on young women, but if I had to describe a reason for why she might act in this way - having seen it first-hand myself from many people - that would be it.

Evelyn: so I did take some influence from Reese Witherspoon’s character in Legally Blonde here - but I think Evelyn is actually one of the smartest characters in AP and so I feel it’s fitting.

She comes over as incredibly ditzy and shallow, but remember we’re seeing and reading all of this from Patrick’s perspective - of course he’s not going to have a high opinion of her, because…it’s Patrick Bateman were talking about here.

In reality, she’s probably one of the most socially clued-in characters. For example: she effortlessly hosts big gatherings with grace and decorum even if the majority of guests are, let’s be honest, fucking insufferable.

She’s also the only character who can actually handle Patrick and meets him on his own level. She absolutely refuses to take any of his bullshit (“what am I supposed to do with that? Floss with it?”).

Her actions and force prove her to be the strong willed and savvy and to me that suggests intellect, as much as it may be hidden - again, due to the environment she exists in.

Bryce: he’s so interesting.

I’ve not written as much about him in my fics as the others, but his actions in the source material suggest that underneath his finance bro Wall Street image, he’s someone who’s very disillusioned, and almost broken.

I really wish the scene of his…episode?…in the club hadn’t been cut from the film. I’d recommend anyone to watch it (and the rest of the deleted scenes because they’re class) if they’ve not seen it already.

There’s also The Informers, the book and film adaptation of another of of Bret Easton Ellis’ works, which features a young Tim Bryce (referred to as Price) and the complex relationship with his father. I’ve not read/watched it in full yet, but whilst they’re on holiday Bryce’s father gets drunk and acts lecherous and gross towards young women on the beach, and Bryce is disgusted by this (perhaps he’s not as much of a raging misogynist as his peers?), and then makes ‘joking’ comments about Bryce being the subject of attraction by other men, to which Bryce walks out on him (perhaps he’s less condemning of homophobia than the others? Or, possibly…maybe he has less than hetero feelings himself? Not to spoil any of Mergerizations but I headcanon him as bisexual tbh).

This behaviour suggests that, at least as a teen, Bryce was very assertive of what was and wasn’t okay and was happy to make these views known.

But due to bullying by his father and, again, the environment that he likely grew up in, he has to suppress this part of himself to be accepted.

WOWWWW that was a whole ass essay. If you’ve read to this part, 1) I’m sorry 2) THANK YOU 3) I love you!!!!

#american psycho #patrick bateman #american psycho memes #bret easton ellis #mary harron #christian bale #gay #lgbtq #patrick bateman x paul allen #paul allen #lesbian #biseuxal #trauma #childhood trauma #daddy issues #character study

[stillarandom-radfem]

There's something that I want to say, and I'm trying to work out the right way to phrase it right now.

Libfems. They are so... idk. Is wishy-washy the right term to use? They're sort of silly. They are so adamant about the notion of "smashing the patriarchy" but it's all just lip service, and it's not even necessarily because all of them are intrinsically bad or anti-woman. For some of them, idk, a few, their hearts may actually be in the right place, but the actions (or rather, lack thereof) that they take to get there are misguided and will never grant them their desired result. And I want to elaborate on why I think that is. It's because you can not fight against a social institution (in this case, patriarchy) without first having a clear understanding of what it is, why it exists, how it operates, and what it's goals are. In other words, you have to know your enemy in order to fight it effectively.

Libfems don't. Their version of feminism lacks a solid sense of analysis. They don't know who the patriarchy consists of (jealous, controlling, entitlement-minded men acting collectively against women in their own self-interest). They don't understand why it exists (the male phenomenon of womb envy exists at the heart of patriarchy; men wish to control the biological function of life-giving which only women possess, and to do that, they must first control and subordinate women). They don't grasp how patriarchy operates (by controlling the legal, financial, and social norms and institutions that govern every patriarchal society on the planet, and forcing them to operate in men's favor rather than women's, and also by using violence against women in order to keep us in line). And they don't know what patriarchy's goals are (complete and utter control, subordination, and enslavement of women to men). They don't know that men are the enemy, that hurting and controlling us is their goal, not some unfortunate accident. They don't realize that the system is working as it's intended to (by men), that it isn't a fluke or a flaw. They mistakenly assume that men are like us, that they are truly decent people underneath it all, and not that they are being cruel on purpose. They see men show compassion and kindness and empathy for other men, and falsely believe that they would do so for women, too, if we could just show them the way. But, they couldn't be more wrong, and the fact that men do show such kindness and caring for other men tells us that they know what that looks like, that their horrible treatment of women is a choice on their part, and a very deliberate one at that.

Sucking up to men, doing their bidding, and pleading for kindness from them will never eliminate patriarchy; only full liberation from them can accomplish that. But libfems, still blithely unaware that men are the enemy at all, dont grasp this. So, they keep doing the opposite, thinking that, if they can prove themselves to be "cool" girls who will submit to men's desires and even convince themselves that they are their own, then men might maybe listen to them about rape culture or abortion rights or something. Baby steps, they tell themselves. Slow progress is still progress. They don't realize that control over women's reproductive capacities is at the heart of patriarchal societies the world over, or the role violence against women and girls has in maintaining men's hierarchal dominance over women, and thus, said reproductive capacities. This is why liberal feminism is so ineffective, so man-centric, so wishy-washy. This is why it will always play directly into the patriarchy's hands. It's why all of the major changes made to benefit women over the past century or so have been made by radical feminists, not liberal feminists. It isn't even that libfems are entirely evil or misogynistic (although, make no mistake, their behavior is definitely frustrating to see). It's because, in order to fight your enemy, you must first know your enemy. In order to destroy the patriarchy, you must first have some sort of feminist analysis and framework to work within.

#radfems do interact #radfems please interact #radfems please touch #radfem safe #radfems do touch #radical feminists please interact #radical feminist safe #proud radfem #radfem analysis #patriarchy

[soulnb42]

Focus (bruises will fade)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything but those poor words.

Summary: After a long training session with Beatrice, Ava has an epiphany

Howdy everyone. So, this is my first fic after over two years of a writing dry spell. Anyway, Mojo is awake again and this is the first part of trilogy. And yes I know, I suck at summaries! :P

It’s an Avatrice story, so if it ain’t your thing, don’t read.

Enjoy,

AO3

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

Ava growled in frustration as her body slammed hard on the floor. She let out a deep sigh as she took Beatrice’s helping hand to get back up.

“You need to stay focused.”

“I am focused!” Ava protested through her teeth.

“Every second you let your guard down you give your opponent a chance to hurt you,” Beatrice pointed out.

“I know that,” Ava mumbled. She wasn’t stupid, and had they been in a real fight she wouldn’t have let her guard down. “I do!” she asserted more forcefully at Beatrice’s incredulous gaze. “You make it sound like I want you to kick my ass.”

Ava was drenched, in comparison Beatrice looked like she had barely broken a sweat. Ava knew she was better at fighting than before, but at the end of the day she was always the one to finish flat on her back.

“Look,” Ava continued with a sigh. “We’ve been working on this combo for weeks and I finally nailed it, so yeah, I may have been a bit distracted with a sudden urge for a happy dance…”

Beatrice couldn’t hold back a small grin at Ava’s confession.

Ava put her right hand over her left shoulder and started rotating it as if to loosen her muscle up. Beatrice could feel that something was weighting on Ava’s mind. “Talk to me,” she prompted softly.

Ava stared at back at Beatrice then shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Ava…” Beatrice prompted her gently.

They had been training for almost four hours now, first fighting with weapons, then hand to hand combat; Ava had lost count of how many times her back had hit the floor after the twenty minutes mark. If she was being honest, she felt a bit discouraged. They had trained almost every day for weeks, yet every training session seemed to be the same, it didn’t matter how much she progressed, it never felt enough.

“I just…” Ava took a deep breath then exhaled. “I guess… I’m just frustrated because… well, I’m training as hard as I can and yet… it feels like I’m barely making a dent.”

“Hey now, don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re doing well. I don’t think you realize the tremendous progress you’ve made in a short period of time.”

“Yet I can count on one hand the times I’ve beaten you, and even then, I don’t need all my fingers.”

“I have years of training on you, so that doesn’t mean anything,” Beatrice put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Be patient and have faith in the process. Yes, you still have a lot to learn but trust me, you’ve come a long way already.”

As always, Beatrice’s confidence in her made her feel better. It was one of the things Ava liked about her, Beatrice always found a way to assuage her fears or boost her morale. That didn’t mean she told her things she wanted to hear, but even in her critic Beatrice was always gentle and benevolent.

“Do you want to stop for today?”

Ava was tempted to say yes, but at the same time she wanted to show her commitment, also she wanted to pull off the fight combo they had been working on once more, if only to prove to herself that the first time wasn’t a fluke. Besides, if Beatrice still had the energy, so should she because unlike her, she had the halo to boost her.

“No, we can go on.”

Beatrice nodded with a smile. “Alright, then, let’s try again.”

Ava took her fighting stance and readied herself for the next onslaught.

“Ready?”

Beatrice waited for Ava to acquiesce, then launch her first punch. The exchange was quick and fierce. For every hit she managed to land Ava had to block ten. Beatrice was relentless, barely giving her room to breathe. A well-timed kick in the chest sent her flying, she fell on her ass but roll with the momentum and got back on her feet just in time to block Beatrice’s next attack.

Ava pushed herself, slowly but steadily she dug into the halo’s power to move faster and hit harder. She got into a groove, she dared phasing to avoid Beatrice’s hits, taking her aback she gained the upper hand. Beatrice caught up quickly though (seriously, Ava suspected that she had some kind of sixth sense). Ava blocked two punches then seized the opportunity to work in the combination of moves Beatrice had been teaching her for the past few days.

Ava felt like she was on fire. She was so caught up in the action, it’s like she could anticipate Beatrice’s moves, she parried the incoming blows then when the moment was right, she pushed Beatrice away with an impulse from the halo, Beatrice flew a few feet backward.

“Yes!” Ava exulted with ferocity.

“Stay focus, Ava!”

“Oh shit!”

Ava had been so busy rejoicing at the fact that she had indeed understood how to place the new fighting combo, she had missed Beatrice getting back on her feet and launching at her even more forcefully as if she hadn’t just been thrown across the room and onto a wall like some ragdoll.

The penalty for her lapse in focus was a well-placed punch in her solar plexus. All oxygen left her lungs in one go.

“Fuck!”

Beatrice didn’t give Ava time to recover and kept on attacking. Ava could swear Beatrice had somehow grown two more arms because the blows were raining on her harder and everywhere at such a speed she could not keep up. A few of her punches touched her target giving her the opportunity to push Beatrice away once more but it was useless, she was two steps behind.

She barely had time to register what was happening, within seconds she was trapped between Beatrice’s legs, then the world flipped upside down, she felt her body defying gravity and crash hard on the floor…again.

Ava closed her eyes in defeat. “Damn it!” she cursed.

Beatrice was kneeling over her, fists still raised, breathing hard and fast.  “I think we’re done for today,” she announced as she straightened up.

Ava stood up, panting. “I almost had you.”

“You had me, that five seconds ride on the gloating parade did you in.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Ava looked at her feet with obvious disappointment.

“Hey,” Beatrice waited to have Ava’s attention again. “You did very well.”

She pressed two fingers gingerly against her temple and winced at the contact. “And, you did manage to hit me,” she stated with a bit of pride.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked with concern, she grimaced upon taking in the bruises and cuts on her friend’s face. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Beatrice reassured her. “If anything, you should be proud. This means you’re ready for us to take it up a notch starting tomorrow.”

Ava snorted with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “As in…you’ve been holding back this whole time?”

She meant her question as a joke but her smile faded at Beatrice’s blank stare. “Of course,” Beatrice’s tone suggested that it should have been obvious. She started gathering their gear, when she looked back at Ava she was confused by the incredulity in her gaze.

“I wouldn’t be much of a teacher if I didn’t level with you,” she added.

Ava tilted her head and narrow her eyes as she pondered that statement. “Yeah…” the word was dragged out “I… don’t think you understand the meaning of ‘level’,” she remarked with an amused pout.

“But I do,” Beatrice frowned in confusion.

“Debatable,” Ava chuckled as they made their way back to their place.

xxxxx

Beatrice put a butterfly band aid on her left temple and hoped that her face would be back to normal by the end of the week end otherwise she’d have a hard time explaining her state to Hans. She was oddly proud of the cuts, scratches and bruises because they were proof of Ava’s progress. Lucky her, she could count on one hand the times her face had been tumefied since the beginning of their training, still those instances had made for awkward conversations – clumsiness could only go so far as an excuse.

She turned around to look at her back which was covered with so many bruises she could pass for a leopard – at least those were not hard to conceal. It looked worse than it actually was, mostly because they trained almost daily, meaning her body didn’t have time to recover properly, fresh bruises settled on top of old ones.

She was exhausted because Ava’s training was intense. It had to be since they didn’t have the luxury of time given the circumstances. They could be called back in at any moment, so every session was essentially a crash course to get Ava up to speed and ready for a fight against one very evil and very powerful being.

At least Ava was a fast learner and a willing student both qualities that made her job easier. She hadn’t lie earlier when she had said she was holding back, still she’d be lying if she said that she was cruising through their sessions. She hadn’t trained that hard since her first two years in the OCS.

She looked around her, then hung her head exhaling forcefully when she didn’t see her shirt. “Darn,” she cursed softly. She had been so eager to soak her battered body into iced water that she hadn’t checked that she had taken all of her change of clothes with her.

She opened the door of the small bathroom and listened for any sign that Ava was around. Satisfied when she didn’t hear anything she walked across the apartment to the bedroom in her pants and bra.

They’d been living together for two months now. Beatrice didn’t mind the size of the apartment; she was used to live in small spaces, in fact the apartment was an upgrade space wise compared to her quarters at the convent.

Ava was a good roommate by all measure; it had taken as little as a week for them to find a ‘domestic’ groove. That being said, sharing the space came with challenges, such as having to share a bed and a bathroom or never being alone.  

There was something unnerving about being around Ava all the time. She knew it was because there were no real secrets between them. It was a good thing in itself, but still it made her feel… virtually naked. Ava saw her, completely. She could read her easily like an opened book. That ability went both ways, more because Ava didn’t seem to want to hide anything from her, or maybe she couldn’t.

Beatrice was scared about how she felt around Ava. She avoided thinking about it too much but it was a fact she couldn’t deny, she cared about Ava, a lot… she cared about her more than she had ever cared about anyone before and that terrified her. Sometimes, everything would feel like… too much.

Only, in many of the silences they shared she’d catch Ava watching her and for precious moments she could swear that Ava felt the same about her. It was in her expressive eyes, or in the soft smiles she would give her before looking away.

They never spoke about it but at the same time it felt like words weren’t needed, like they were on the same wavelength.

“Oh my god, Bea!”

Beatrice nearly jumped out of her skin and turned around quickly, clutching her shirt to her chest. She had noticed a button had come loose on her shirt and while pondering if she should sew it back on right away or do it later, she had lost herself in her own thoughts and thus failing to realize she no longer was alone.

“Geez… I didn’t hear you coming in,” she said in an unsteady voice, her face warming up all over at once. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. “Uh… do you mind?”

She wanted to put her shirt on but for that she needed to undo buttons, which meant exposing herself for a few seconds – or a minute, more like, considering her trembling hands.

“Your back…” Ava whispered as if she hadn’t heard her.

“What?” Beatrice frowned. She was confused and her state of undress made it hard for her brain to compute anything.

Ava had come back from grocery shopping and had been about to announce that she had decided to treat them with some pastries and ice cream as rewards for a good training session, when her words had died in her throat at the sight of Beatrice’s back.

Upon seeing so many bruises, worry twisted her guts. It quickly turned into horror when she realized that she was the source of those bruises.

She rushed forward and Beatrice took a step backward, away from her. “I hurt you,” Ava’s eyes were shining with dismay “This whole time, I’ve been hurting you…oh my god…”

Ava felt so dumb right now – and slightly sick. Of course Beatrice would get hurt when they sparred. Heck, she had thrown her into a freaking wall merely two hours ago!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Beatrice was always so quick to get back on her feet and never said anything. There were the odd wounds on her face every now and then but those were rare because Beatrice was good at dodging any blow. In a way, Ava had come to see her as invincible.

It only now dawned on her that she had been beating Beatrice up almost every day for months and all this time she never realized just how much she was hurting her.

“You idiot,” Ava muttered to herself, one hand holding her forehead.

It finally sunk in, that her oversight of the situation stemmed from the fact that she had forgotten what it felt like to be injured herself because the halo was healing her almost instantly every time. “I’m so sorry, Bea.” She could feel tears prickling her eyes.

Beatrice, who now understood the source of Ava’s anguish, let out a soft sigh of amusement. “Ava, it’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Like hell it is!” Ava snapped much to her surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what?” Beatrice frowned; she was a bit at a loss in front of the outburst. “Scratches and bruises are part of the training, just like sore muscles, it’s nothing to fret over,” she spoke in a placating tone.

“Your back is purple and blue… don’t tell me it’s okay!”

“Ava…”

“No, Bea, this isn’t right! Training is one thing, hurting you is another.”

Ava was upset at the situation but Beatrice being dismissive of it all made the matter worse. Surely Beatrice could see that she wasn’t being hysterical here.

Beatrice sensed there was something more going on but she didn’t know what and Ava was obviously on the verge of spiralling down into a very bad headspace.

“Ava, look at me,” she spoke as gently as possible. She continued once she was sure she had Ava’s attention. “Listen to me, okay? This is fine, I am fine.”

She could see that Ava was not convinced but she kept on. “Like it or not, part of the training is learning how to take blows. As Mother Superion would say ‘if you’re going to dish it, you better learn how to take it as well because whoever and whatever we’re fighting against won’t attack us with hugs and cuddles.’”

The ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of Ava’s lips, she could hear Mother Superion’s voice loud and clear.

“And don’t think you’ll get away with holding back during our next sessions,” Beatrice warned her as if she had heard Ava’s thoughts. “I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to fight at the best of your abilities. I know you won’t hurt me; I trust you.”

“I hate to break it to you but those bruises mean I have been hurting you,” Ava pointed out.

“No, they mean you’ve been training your butt off, nothing more,” Beatrice corrected with a firm voice. “You’d be bruised too if it wasn’t for the halo, mine just need a few days to fade is all.”

Silence set upon them, filled with unsaid and inner turmoil.

Reality was catching back to them. Training aside, it was so easy to forget that they were not just living a quiet life in the Alps; that there was an evil out there that they’d have to fight eventually.

“My job is to train you so you’re ready to confront Adriel,” Beatrice said calmly. “If being covered in bruises is what it takes to get you there then so be it. I’ll gladly take a thousand bruises a day just so I never have to…”

Beatrice trailed off, her throat closing up. In a second, she was transported back to the night of Shannon’s death. Her mind provided her with vision of Ava in Shannon’s place and the thought alone filled her with an unbearable pain.

“I’m your best friend and I cannot watch you get hurt or die,” she confessed. She knew that right at this instant she was completely bare, but she couldn’t hide all the care she felt for Ava any more than she could stop the Earth from spinning.

“Nor I, you,” Ava replied immediately. “Yet, you ask me to be fine with hurting you.”

“Again, I trust you, completely. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. Now, I’m asking you to trust me when I say I’m fine, trust that I’d never put you in a position where you could hurt me,” her tone was unwavering. “Please, trust me.”

“I do,” Ava affirmed without hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time that Beatrice demanded her trust. Ava doubted many things but she had never doubted was her trust in Beatrice, as blind as it was. She’d always trusted her friend and Beatrice had never let her down.

“Good,” Beatrice grinned softly.

Now that the crisis was over, her brain reminded her that she was still half naked. She cleared her throat. “Now, do you mind? I’d like to put my shirt on.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Beatrice clutched her shirt tighter against her chest.

“You’re not getting dressed until I’ve put some cream on your bruises.”

Beatrice felt warmth rushing to her cheeks. “That’s really not necess…”

Ava’s glare told her with no equivoque that this wasn’t up to discussion. Since she had won the war of their argument, she relented to lose that battle. “Fine,” she conceded.

She watched Ava disappearing into the bathroom, then coming out a few seconds later with the tube of lotion. “Turn around.”

Beatrice obeyed and focused on her breathing, all her senses on high alert.

Ava clenched her jaw at the sight of Beatrice’s back. Now that her worry had subsided a bit, she did understand Beatrice’s point but that didn’t make the pill easier to swallow. She tried to force herself to focus on her task, not wanting her mind to go to dark places.  

Beatrice was very modest by nature so to display so much flesh made her feel like an exposed nerve. She had found herself in the same position back at the convent after particularly difficult missions. Mary or Lilith had been the ones taking care of her then. Yet it felt very different right now with Ava. Deep down she suspected why but she really didn’t want to go there.

“Cold!” she squeaked with a start. Oddly enough, if Ava’s fingers were indeed cold, her skin felt electric under her touch. Breathe… she needed to breathe.

“Sorry…”

Ava gently rubbed lotion onto a dark bruise, wishing she could make it disappear. There was a nagging thought at the back of her mind that was the source of the dread she felt in the pit of her stomach, but she just couldn’t make sense of it.

She added lotion on her hand to attend to the next bruise but frowned when she noticed a scar. Actually, now that she paid attention, scars – some fainter than others – were marring Beatrice’s flesh. Before she realized what she was doing, her finger was tracing a long scar running across Beatrice’s shoulder blade, a silent question on the tip of her tongue.

Beatrice was clenching and unclenching her fists around the shirt she was still clutching against her chest, trying not to focus too much on Ava’s touch. She turned her head halfway when she noticed Ava was tracing over an old scar.

She knew her body bare the marks of her missions but she never gave it much thought. She could recall the story behind almost every scar, most of them were from what she referred to as her ‘rookie years’. With both experience and time, bad wounds were not as frequent an occurrence, just the occasional job hazard.

Needing a distraction, she latched onto the day she got the scar Ava was touching. “My fifth mission…” she cleared her throat when her voice came a bit hoarse. “It was the first time I was facing a swarm of possessed people… Shannon was calm and collected, fighting them all at once. I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed, disoriented and a bit scared, truth be told.”

Images from that day flashed in Beatrice’s mind. Lilith and her had been the less experimented nuns in their row, back then. They had held their own but mistakes had been made. Shannon had had to remind them to stay calm several times, not to succumb to panic; though they were the ones supposed to have Shannon’s back, it was Shannon who had protected them both all the while fighting demons.

“I got thrown into a glass panel and over a balcony of sort, that crash landing cut my breath but it sure brought my focus back,” she pointed out with a sardonic chuckle. “I was so pumped up with adrenaline, I didn’t realize I had pieces of glass lodged deep into my flesh until we were back at the convent.”

She shook her head at the memory. She hadn’t felt much as long as they were in the middle of the fight, once the realisation hit though, she had felt that pain alright. “It took Lilith almost an hour to get all the pieces out.”

She snorted. “I hate to admit it, but I cried a bit like a baby, much to Lilith’s amusement. That is, until it was my turn to clean her up and she wasn’t boasting then,” she paused. “That girl is tough as nail but sometimes, a paper cut will have her behave like a toddler,” she stated, laughing when she pictured Lilith’s pouting face that night.

Ava smiled at the pictures brought forth by Beatrice’s words. She did envy Beatrice and her friends. She longed for that sort of camaraderie because that was the closest she’d ever have to a family of sort.

Ava had known all the nuns were close to one another right from the start. She had come to the OCS as an outsider and everyone had made sure she was aware of that fact – granted the circumstances had been less than ideal, their hostility had stemmed from their grief, she could acknowledge that. Beatrice had been the only one not to be hostile toward her and to give her a chance.

Even though she hadn’t spent much time at the OCS Ava had started to feel like she belonged. She cared about the others and they did care about her, at least she felt like they did.

“Shannon and Mary snuck ice cream into my room afterwards, and we stayed up all night talking,” Beatrice continued. “I think Shannon wanted to make sure Lilith and I were okay and make sure we knew we had done alright on the field in spite of everything.”

Nostalgia engulfed Beatrice, her grin faltered when her grief resurfaced. She missed Shannon and those blissful days.

Part of her wanted to go back in time, but she also hated what that entailed. Shannon being alive, meant Ava would be dead, and she couldn’t get behind that as much as she missed her sister.

Life could be cruel that way.

Ava couldn’t explain it, but she felt Beatrice’s sadness right at that moment. She wished she had a way with words, maybe then she’d know what to say to alleviate Beatrice’s pain. Instead, she refocused on the task at hand, putting lotion on another bruise.

She loved hearing about Beatrice’s past, about Shannon and the others. However, sometimes like right now, it made her feel inadequate. Even though it hadn’t been Beatrice’s intentions, hearing about Shannon being a great leader only served to remind her how much she was not.

Beatrice had called her out on the fact that she could be flaky and selfish – a charge she couldn’t deny at the time, but then again, she’d had every reason to be that way.

She hadn’t asked to be paralyzed for over a decade. She hadn’t asked to be murdered by some sociopathic nun, nor had she asked to be burdened with some mystical powerful artefact by a desperate nun.

All she had known then was that she had been given a literal second chance at life and she wanted to live. So, she had run away from the OCS and tried living a normal life…only to find out that ‘normal’ was no longer an option thanks to the halo.

Once she had resigned to that fact, she had returned to the OCS and done her best to assume her leader role. She had failed miserably.

Now, months later, she wanted to correct her mistakes, be a better leader, one Beatrice and the others could rely on. One that kept her team away from harm.

As she traced yet another scar on Beatrice’s back, the halo felt like a thousand-pound burden on her back. The thought that had been nagging at her became finally clear. She felt dread coiling around her, constricting her airways.

She finally saw the hidden price tag of being the halo bearer. She couldn’t prevent Beatrice and the other from getting hurt. It didn’t matter if she became the best leader there was. The bottom line was that they would always put themselves in harm’s way to protect the halo at all cost. Beatrice and the others would lay their lives for the halo and by extension, for her.

Ava didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of her, much less to get hurt for her.

“I…uh… don’t think you’ve ever been quiet for this long while awake,” Beatrice’s voice pierced through the veil of her anguish. “Should I be worried?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

The reality of potentially losing Beatrice hit Ava in the guts with unbearable ferocity. She suddenly felt the urge to give a voice to her feelings; before she knew what she was doing her lips landed softly onto a bruise and lingered there.

Beatrice startled not sure if she was imagining things. She sucked in a sharp breath when the warm contact she had felt happened again. “Ava?” she whispered. “What…are you…doing?” her voice was unsteady and breathy. All her senses were going haywire. She tried to focus on her breathing but the frantic pace of her heartbeat made it difficult.

“Kiss and make it better,” Ava’s answer came calmly as if her action were the most natural in the world.

Ava laid soft kiss after soft kiss onto the bruises on Beatrice shoulders, putting all her focus in the affectionate gesture. Now that she had started, she couldn’t stop herself. She was instantly addicted to the feel of Beatrice’s skin, its warmth, its softness, its smell.

Too much, it was all too much. Beatrice was overwhelmed, her skin was on fire, her brain on the verge of meltdown. She was dizzy and just about to fall because her legs were threatening to give out on her. She turned around abruptly, facing Ava.

She was heaving, a war was waging inside of her between wanting more and wanting it to stop. She had never found herself in such a position before. She was out of her depth and on the verge of drowning.

Ava lowered her hands to her sides but held Beatrice’s gaze steadily. Everything she felt was laid bare, no hiding, no pretending.

The affection between them wasn’t new. It had started when they were confronting each other’s pain and fear when training. It had only grown steadily since. It went beyond friendship, that much she knew and she knew Beatrice was aware of that as well.

They never spoke about it, but it was there, uncompromising, all encompassing. Ava didn’t want to waste any more time keeping whatever that was suspended between them.  She didn’t mind it being unsaid, but right now she needed it to be properly acknowledged and real.

They could lose everything in a heartbeat, so Ava was determined to cherish it for as long as she could, starting now.

She stepped closer to Beatrice invading her personal space, without a word, she kissed the wound on her left temple. She heard Beatrice’s sharp intake of breath. When she pulled back, Beatrice was looking at her with eyes wide open, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Say when,” she whispered, offering Beatrice the chance to back away. She was about to cross the line, but she wouldn’t go any further if Beatrice didn’t want to.

Beatrice was not certain to be awake. Maybe she had a concussion. On the off chance that it was real, she was torn between keeping a fierce hold onto everything she had always kept buried deep inside herself or letting go. She was at a crossroad and all she knew was that whatever she decided right at this moment, nothing would ever be the same after, this was the no-return point.

Her eyes darted to Ava’s lips, then back onto Ava’s. She swallowed hard; she couldn’t bring herself to say stop. In all honesty, she didn’t want to, as terrifying as everything was.

Ava leant in again, this time her lips touched the scrap on her cheekbone. She pulled away just enough so they would look at one another again, silently offering a last chance to put a halt to what was happening.

The next cut was on Beatrice’s upper lip. If they were to stop, now would be the time. Ava watched the myriad of emotions flashing in Beatrice’s eyes and waited patiently. “Say when,” she repeated with a voice barely above a whisper.

After a beat, Beatrice once more glanced briefly at her lips, she unconsciously tilted her head a bit forward in a barely perceptible movement. That’s all the encouragement Ava needed; slowly, she closed the distance.

Their lips met for the first time and everything stilled.

Beatrice’s fists tightened on her shirt at the contact. It took a second but she then kissed Ava back. Something imploded in her, everything she felt melted into one single sensation she couldn’t name. It spread through her veins, setting her whole body ablaze.

It’s like she had been sleeping all her life. She was taking her first breath, for the first time she felt…alive.

Ava pulled back, her breathing shallow and fast. She searched Beatrice’s eyes to make sure everything was okay. Many emotions were playing in those hazel eyes, but regret wasn’t one of them. Wanting more, she captured Beatrice’s lips again.

The kiss was firmer, more demanding. Ava’s mind was reeling. She only had one point of comparison, but one thing was for certain, whatever she had felt kissing JC was nothing next to what she was feeling now. With JC, it had been new and elating. Kissing Beatrice was also new but the sensations were thousandfold.

She was hyperaware of everything, their breaths mingling, the softness of Beatrice’s lips, the sweet taste of her, the warmth, every minute detail was registering with mind blowing intensity.

When her tongue caressed Beatrice’s, it was like lightning struck her. She pulled Beatrice’s closer to her, pressing the hand she had on the small of her back a little tighter.

Beatrice hissed, abruptly breaking the kiss. “Easy, easy…”

Ava only then remembered Beatrice’s bruised back. “Sorry …” she breathed out with an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay,” Beatrice mumbled bashfully before casting her eyes downward.

Stupid bruises! They didn’t hurt that much by themselves, but because all of her senses had been operating on a higher level, Ava’s hard press of fingers on her tender flesh had caused an acute burning sensation. If she hadn’t been surprised by the sudden pain, she’d still be losing herself in their kiss.

They’d just kiss…

Beatrice felt a grin tugging at the corners of her lips, incommensurable pleasure still pulsing through every cell of her body.

They’d just kiss…

The grin faded as she realized that this was real and not some kind of dream, her mind started spinning in a downward spiral.

This is disgusting and wrong.…unnatural…you’re an embarrassment…you’re an abomination…an abnormality…you should be ashamed… this is unacceptable…

The voices she had muzzled for years were rising from the depth of her psyche… the repressed memory of her first and only kiss many years ago and the ensuing shame she had been made to feel… all those ugly feelings were resurfacing with a vengeance, rapidly engulfing her in a dark cloud…

Ava sensed a shift; she could see Beatrice’s walls going back up. Instinctively, she just knew she had to bring her back to her, in a safe space. “Bea…” she called gently

The soft voice cut through Beatrice’s thoughts, calling her back to the moment. Beatrice looked up into concerned brown eyes.

“It is,” Ava’s statement was firm and suffered no argument and there was no mistake as to what she was referring to. “It is okay.”

Ava’s voice was calm and yet it was louder than the ones in her head. Those three words cut through the fog of darkness, silencing her inner demons.

Don’t hate what you are…what you are is beautiful…

Beatrice’s mind latched onto the words Ava had spoken months ago when her worst flaw had been revealed. They had made her feel grounded then and they did just that now. She nodded slowly. “It is,” she echoed weakly. She may need time to fully believe it, right now, she didn’t mind leaning on Ava’s assertion.

Ava smiled at her affectionately, she brought a hand on her cheek, her thumb moving in a soft back and forth. Beatrice inclined her head against Ava’s palm, finding comfort in the touch. 

When Ava felt Beatrice’s guard crumble down, she kissed her again. It was a tender kiss meant to reassure, one to convey that everything was indeed fine.

Beatrice felt a soothing warmth coming from Ava surround them as if wrapping them in a blanket. When Ava ended their kiss, she noticed a thin layer of light confirming her suspicions. “You’re glowing,” she whispered.

Ava turned her head to look at her back and did notice the soft shine emanating from the halo. She was hardly surprised. The halo reacted to her emotions and right now she felt freaking amazing… no, actually, she felt beyond freaking amazing.

“Yeah well…” Ava smiled sheepishly. “So are you,” she pointed out with amusement, her remark made Beatrice’s cheeks flush with heat.

Ava kissed Beatrice’s forehead tenderly then rested hers against it, taking a moment to get her emotions back under control.

“I should uh… finish tending to your bruises so you can put that shirt back on… we don’t want you to catch a cold,” Ava said, biting her bottom lip in a vain attempt to fight off a large grin.

Beatrice chuckled. “Yeah…”

They stayed like that for another a moment before Ava finally straightened up. “Right… lotion,” she stated, moving behind Beatrice once more.

Ava gently put lotion on every bruise, rather than letting her mind be overcome with dread, this time she focused on what they had just shared. She tried but failed to keep a smile from splitting her face.

At this very moment the only thing that mattered was Beatrice, her and the affection they were both basking in.

She was beaming so hard her cheeks hurt and she never wanted it to stop.

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

Alright, I'm rusty at this, but I'm having a blast, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading!

#warriornun #warrior nun fanfic #avatrice #ava x beatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #warrior nun fandom #ao3 fanfic

[lords-of-mayhem]

Can you write Pelle and Øystein story that includes P fucking Ø in Ø's room when Pelle first came to Norway? And Pelle having to gag him so his parents don't hear

Sure thing! I hope you enjoy it <3

Socially Constructed Sabotage

Warnings: Loss of virginity, brief dirty talk, top Pelle, bottom Øystein, barebacking, creampie, fingering, brief rimming, loud sex, gagging, rough sex

Words: 4,386

The first problem Øystein had run into with Pelle was communication. Jan, Jørn, and himself had all assumed that they’d be able to understand Pelle. Their languages were close enough for it to make sense, after all. They’d figured they could at least identify enough words to piece together what he was trying to say and he could do the same for them. The car ride back to Øystein’s home had proved that theory incorrect. 

“Vart är vi på väg?” Pelle asked and Øystein was totally lost, having him repeat himself a couple more times. He went slower each time, but Øystein still couldn’t quite make sense of it. 

“Jeg forstår ikke,” Øystein admitted after a moment, deciding to just tell Pelle that he hadn’t understood any of his words. “Snakker du noe norsk?” He asked, hoping that Pelle spoke more Norwegian than he spoke Swedish, but Pelle only stared back at him. It was clear that he didn’t understand him any better. “Do you speak English?” Øystein finally decided to ask, hoping it would be a good middle ground for them. 

If they couldn’t communicate in English, he genuinely didn’t have any other ideas for how they’d be able to. He couldn’t imagine not being able to talk at all would work out. His heart had begun racing in his chest, hoping bringing Pelle all the way out here wouldn’t be for nothing. He was confused when Pelle began giggling, unsure of what had been so funny. 

“Engelska. Ja,” Pelle agreed finally. “You have a cute accent,” He added in English, words a lot clearer than Øystein had expected them to be. The words themselves made Øystein turn red, caught off guard by the compliment and unused to words like ‘cute’ being used for him. 

That brought about the second problem Øystein had with Pelle. The blonde had a habit of ascribing him various descriptors or names that made his stomach feel weird. The real problem came with the fact he knew why Pelle complimenting him made him feel like that. He’d found Pelle attractive from the moment they’d met and he enjoyed being around him, and all the flirting from the Swedish man made things worse. 

He was very fond of calling Øystein every name he could think of. Cute and adorable were usually the ones he used most often, but he was also partial to using pretty and any variation of calling Øystein small. The latter annoyed Øystein more than the rest did, but that knowledge only seemed to encourage Pelle to continue doing it. He tried to act unphased by it in hopes Pelle would get bored and stop, although that hadn’t worked yet. 

Luckily, Pelle didn’t often comment on his size. Most of the time, he was friendly enough and could even be pretty agreeable. As agreeable as he could be, he was also equally capable of pushing boundaries and trying to force Øystein out of his comfort zone. This often came in the form of physically putting himself in Øystein’s personal space. 

It had started small at first, so small Øystein hadn’t even noticed it right away. There were touches that lingered a bit too long, touching him when it definitely wasn’t necessary to, hands resting on the small of Øystein’s back when he tried to slip by him in the kitchen, Then it progressed to outright groping at Øystein’s sides, finding the soft curves where a bit of baby fat still clung to him and kneading at the skin. 

When Øystein protested, he’d simply laugh at him and squeeze rougher. Øystein knew he could push Pelle away if he needed to, he could likely even fight him off if it came down to it. A part of him had to admit he kind of liked it, though. It was hard to explain, but he liked Pelle’s hands on him and he liked them more when they were handling him so roughly. He’d never been touched like that before, but he could get used to it. 

One such morning, Øystein was trying his best to make breakfast with everyone crowding up the kitchen. Nobody else had left the house yet and he was annoyed when he kept getting bumped into, but he paused when he felt a familiar hand circle around his waist. Pelle squeezed tighter and peered into the pan. 

“Looks good,” He praised in English, giving Øystein a small smile. His parents talked away in the background, but Øystein was solely focused on Pelle and the fact he was not pulling away. Pelle’s voice lowered and he whispered to him in Swedish, something he only did when he was angry or saying something filthy. “Jag önskar att jag kunde ha dig över den här disken,” He began, his tone definitely indicating it was the latter. “ Jag skulle knulla dig tills du grät för mig,” Øystein shivered, being able to identify the word fuck in there somewhere. 

He “accidentally” elbowed Pelle in the ribs, dislodging how close they were. Clearing his throat, he went back to his cooking and tried to stop blushing so brightly. Pelle smirked at him, but left him alone for the time being. Øystein knew this peace wouldn’t last very long. Øystein decided to get ahead of this and confront Pelle about it first, not giving him the opportunity to corner him about it. 

They were both sitting in his room when he decided to bring it up. He was flipping through a magazine, only halfway paying attention to it. He was far more focused on how he was going to handle this. Pelle was sitting at his desk, reading a book and occasionally stopping to jot down notes. Øystein wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he’d learned it was better to just let Pelle do his thing when he wasn’t causing any trouble. 

“Pelle,” Øystein said suddenly, catching the blonde’s attention. “What did you say to me in the kitchen this morning?” He questioned, heart in his throat. He didn’t know where this might lead them and he wasn’t sure if he was more scared or excited to find out, but he was too far gone now. 

“Oh. I told you I’d like to fuck you over the counter until you started to cry for me,” Pelle told him as though he was talking about the weather. Yet another problem with Pelle. He was extremely blunt, either not being aware of social etiquette or simply not caring. It made Øystein shift on the bed, still staring at him. Pelle didn’t glance up from his book and notes very much. 

“Would you mean it?” Øystein asked after a moment of silence between them. His heart thumped faster in his chest, definitely bordering on nervousness more than excitement. “I mean, would you actually do that with me?” He elaborated and this seemed to draw all of Pelle’s attention. He sat his book and notepad down entirely, giving his full focus to Øystein, head tilted curiously at him. 

“I would,” Pelle agreed, not taking much time to consider it. He watched Øystein carefully, reminding the dark haired man of a cat peering over the fields and looking for a mouse. It was a fitting comparison, Øystein felt a bit like prey even while sitting in his own bedroom. “Why? Would you?” His words had an odd inflection on them that Øystein couldn’t quite decipher and that annoyed him. It made him feel as though Pelle had an advantage over him here and truth be told, he likely did. 

Pelle rarely played any games where he did not have an upperhand. He liked racing because he had longer legs, he liked games of wit because he was smart, he did not like games of luck because they were unpredictable and out of his control. And he liked putting Øystein in uncomfortable situations because he was marvelously good at it, and he enjoyed the power of making Øystein squirm around. 

“Maybe,” Øystein said finally. “I don’t know, I can’t be sure. I’ve never been with a man before,” He told him and it was the more tactful, although less divulging truth. He’d experimented in the past with himself, only ever a couple fingers to see what it might be like. Pelle did not need to know that information, he reasoned. 

“I could show you what it’s like if you’d let me,” Pelle offered and Øystein nodded before he could overthink it. He did want Pelle in this way and he knew that, it was just a matter of not letting himself worry too much. Pelle moved almost as soon as Øystein had said yes, seemingly anticipating that he would agree. “I’ve hoped for this since I arrived,” Pelle admitted to him and went to dig through his bag, eventually fishing out what he had been looking for. He showed it to Øystein proudly, showing off a travel-sized bottle of lube that made Øystein’s cheeks warm up. 

It was a bit embarrassing, knowing that Pelle had been hoping to fuck him. Even going so far as to buy the things they would need for it. He wasn’t too surprised, though. He supposed this wasn’t more embarrassing than Pelle whispering filthy words into his ear with his parents mere feet away from them. 

“Do you have a condom?” Øystein asked suddenly, vaguely aware that people were supposed to use those. Even two men. Surprisingly, Pelle laughed at him and gave him a look, eyebrow raised. 

“I won’t get you pregnant,” He assured and Øystein’s cheeks burned harsher at that. He hadn’t been visibly blushing before, but he knew he was now. He looked away from him, borderline sulking, but Pelle didn’t seem to mind it too much. “Take off your clothes,” He ordered bluntly and Øystein nodded.     

When he began taking his clothes off, he was happy to see that Pelle was doing the same. It felt less voyeuristic with him as the center if Pelle was also losing layers at a similar rate. It made him feel more like this was a normal consummation rather than a one-sided, consensual exploitation.     

“I’m worried it will hurt,” Øystein admitted to him after a moment, deciding to be honest. His fingers had been uncomfortable enough and he hadn’t quite seen the appeal of anal sex with himself as the receiving partner, but maybe doing this with Pelle would make it inherently different. He distracted himself by admiring the expanses of pale skin that Pelle stripping down exposed to him. 

Pelle was so thin that his skin looked painted onto his bones, many of them jutting out sharply. He looked more like an exaggerated  illustration of a horror character rather than a real person, reminding Øystein of Dorian Gray’s decrepit and withering body. Yet, there was an odd beauty to his macabre form. Scars littered his body in no real patterns, some intersecting awkwardly. 

“I will do what I can to make it not hurt,” Pelle soothed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not seeming to mind being stared at. Øystein hadn’t fully stripped yet, still wearing his sweater and underwear, and Pelle did not seem to mind this either. “You can take it,” He told him and Øystein raised an eyebrow this time. 

“Most people would say they’d be gentle,” Øystein pointed out. The choice to avoid the words seemed deliberate and knowing Pelle, that was definitely likely. The blonde haired man grinned at him with sharp teeth, once again reminding Øystein of the predator in the grass. He was suddenly much more inclined to believe Pelle had no intentions of being gentle with him. 

“Do you need me to be gentle, Øystein?” Pelle asked in a tone that left Øystein wondering if it was a genuine offer. The blonde crawled onto the bed with him and slid between his thighs, ignoring the fact Øystein was still clothed. He placed himself there like he belonged, spreading his thighs to be the perfect space for him. He didn’t stop until he was pressed as close as he could manage, leaning over his body and trapping him down to the bed. “Does the idea of giving your virginity away frighten you? Do I need to be soft and sweet while I take it?” 

Øystein still couldn’t determine if Pelle was being serious, but he could determine his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Pelle was so close to him, whispering things more sensual than he’d ever been told before. Pelle watched him with intent eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips when Øystein finally shook his head, telling him he didn’t need to be soft and sweet with him. 

“Then I won’t be, but you can take it. I’ll make sure you can,” Pelle assured him once he pulled away from the kiss. This time, Øystein nodded in agreement. He could take it. “Finish taking your clothes off for me. Then get on your hands and knees,” Pelle guided and leaned himself away enough to give Øystein the space to do so. 

It was obvious Øystein was more insecure about being nude in front of someone else, though it was unclear how much came from inexperience. Still, Øystein followed the instructions given and shivered when the air hit all of his bare skin, highly aware of the differences between their bodies. His skin was unmarred by scars, though he did have areas of acne in some spots and a few stretch marks that had turned white, but not yet disappeared. Pelle had already felt the curves of his hips, one thing Øystein was most self-conscious of, yet he had not seemed to mind them. If anything, it was quite the opposite. 

Øystein felt awkward as he turned himself over onto his hands and knees, knocking into Pelle by accident at one point. It was a bit difficult to find a comfortable position, but two hands found his hips and guided him around until he was as settled as he would ever be. 

The position was not like anything he’d experienced before, exposing him in a totally new way and letting some of his most sensitive spots be seen. He felt shame wash over him, ass in the air like a bitch in heat. Pelle settled in behind him and cold hands found his ass, spreading him open even more. He barely resisted the urge to try and close his legs, but he knew they’d just be forced back open anyway. 

“Perfect. I knew you’d be gorgeous like this,” Pelle praised and Øystein was grateful for this position because it meant Pelle couldn’t see the way Øystein’s face turned a light pink at the comment. “I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked. You’re certainly made for it,” He tacked on and shifted around a bit, hands changing position on his skin. Øystein wasn’t sure what was happening until he felt the first warm, wet press of Pelle’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Øystein hissed out through his teeth, surprised by the sudden contact. Yet again, he found himself thinking about how different things would be if Pelle was a normal lover. Anyone else would warn him before doing such a thing, likely would even ask his permission. But he found himself preferring Pelle’s methods, it was simply shocking. Nobody else had ever even touched him there, let alone like this. 

He’d heard about people doing this before, only ever whispered recounts of perverse things. The only tales he’d heard of it had come from someone who knew someone who had slept with some deviant who had licked them there. Now, he was that someone that someone knew and it was more unbelievable than he ever could have imagined. 

Pelle licked over every inch of his skin there, moving in steady up and down motions before switching them to left and right. Øystein would squirm every time he hit a particularly sensitive nerve, but he didn’t start fully reacting until Pelle stiffened his tongue just a tad and pressed it inside. It obviously didn’t go in as deeply as a finger or a cock might, but it felt even better than his fingers had. 

It was hot and slick enough to glide easily, none of the awkward harsh pressing he’d had to do to get his fingers inside. Pelle moved his tongue in ways Øystein didn’t even know was possible and it earned a moan that was far too loud. His nerves there were sensitive, but not in the way they had been once he’d finally withdrawn his fingers. This sensitivity didn’t make it painful, it didn't leave him red and sore. 

He barely even registered it when one of Pelle’s fingers slipped inside of him. It was a completely different experience than it had been with his own fingers. Pelle’s were very slick and went in easily, finding a more comfortable angle and sinking deeper. It moved and wiggled comfortably, encouraging his insides to part rather than forcing them to. All of a sudden, Pelle’s finger pressed differently and it felt as though Øystein had been electrocuted. 

He let out a high-pitched sound he would deny if Pelle ever brought it up. He wasn’t sure what had happened to himself, but he knew he wanted more of it. His body froze when he heard the television downstairs turn to silent and he knew his parents were listening for more of a disturbance, trying to see if something was happening that they needed to worry over. 

“Be quiet,” Pelle laughed as he pulled his mouth away from Øystein’s body. He kept moving his finger, adding a second one now and avoiding the spot that had made Øystein react so harshly. It was torturous, but Øystein was grateful for it. He doubted he could keep quiet well enough if Pelle hadn’t purposefully gone easier on him. “Don’t want them to hear, do you?” He asked and stretched Øystein out carefully. 

Luckily, the sounds of the television resumed a bit later, his parents seemingly satisfied that nothing was amiss. Pelle slid his fingers back against that spot almost as soon as the sounds had continued and Øystein bit his lip so hard it nearly bled to try to stay quiet. His thighs squirmed, but there was nowhere for him to escape to. His cock was fully hard by now and leaking against the bed, and he dreaded having to wash his own sheets tomorrow. 

“Does it feel good, liten kråka?” Pelle asked and Øystein could identify these words. They were close enough to his own and he wasn’t sure how he felt about being called a little crow, but his mind was focused elsewhere. He nodded because he didn’t trust his own voice now. “It’ll feel even better when it’s me fucking into you instead,” He added another finger and Øystein had a feeling this would be the last one he used. 

It was already more than Øystein had tried on himself, although he was beginning to wonder if he’d done something wrong. Fingering himself had not felt anything like this. Pelle stretched him slow and deep, letting this finger stay inside of him for less time than the others. Perhaps Pelle himself was growing impatient, that thought made Øystein smile. His insides clenched when Pelle’s fingers were removed, already feeling empty and longing for something to replace them. He knew something would. 

“Be quiet for me now. Once I start, I’m not stopping. I don’t care if they do hear,” Pelle warned and a person less experienced with him might call his bluff, but Øystein knew better. He knew Pelle would likely keep fucking him even if his parents were knocking on the door. Øystein pressed his arm beneath his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, letting out a small noise when he felt Pelle pressing against him. 

His cock felt a lot bigger than his fingers, the blunt head warm as it lined up. The push inside stretched him open a bit, but it was nothing like the pain he imagined he would feel. It burned slightly and the feeling was a little uncomfortable, mostly due to his body never experiencing anything like it. He’d never been so full before and now, it felt as though his organs might not even have enough room. 

Øystein breathed out a shaky whine, only stopping when Pelle was all the way inside. It was hard to get enough air into his lungs, feeling so overwhelmed by this. He considered the fact he was no longer a virgin for a moment and wondered if he should mourn the social concept. If he should care that he had given something “special” over to Pelle so easily. Before he could consider the impact of it too much, Pelle was beginning to pull out and press back inside in long movements. 

They were slow, deep thrusts that still allowed Øystein to get used to the feeling. Although, he was growing desperate and perhaps felt like he needed to prove something. He pulled his face free from his arms just enough to speak, trying to compose himself a bit. 

“Don’t hold back,” He encouraged and he could hear Pelle chuckling behind him. It was a sweeter noise, endeared and amused. Pelle’s body leaned in an awkward way, too long arms reaching down beside the bed and grabbing something. “What are you doing?” Øystein asked skeptically when he saw Pelle had grabbed his underwear off the floor, unsure of what was happening. 

“There’s no way you’re going to stay quiet,” Pelle told him and Øystein’s brain was going into overdrive. There was no possible way he was suggesting what Øystein thought he was, but the underwear was pressed in front of his face before he could protest. “Open,” He instructed, his words were even and didn’t leave any room to argue. So, Øystein didn’t. It was embarrassing, more embarrassing than anything else he’d ever done, but he opened his mouth and let Pelle press his own underwear into his mouth. 

He shoved the fabric deep, prodding with his fingers until it would be difficult to spit it out without the use of his hands. It nearly gagged Øystein, but he did his best to avoid that from happening. His teeth clenched around the fabric when Pelle began moving his hips once again. 

This time, Pelle didn’t hold back. He gave Øystein exactly what he’d asked for, gradually building the pace up and teasing him for just a moment. His hands wrapped tightly around Øystein’s hips, threatening to leave bruises along his delicate skin. It felt primal and desperate, and the makeshift gag only added to that feeling. As Pelle had anticipated, Øystein couldn’t help moaning the second Pelle truly started fucking into him. Although, he was definitely making more noise now than he would have before. 

He felt more comfortable making sounds now that he knew they’d be muffled. There was also the fact that it just felt so overwhelming for him, new and exciting. Pelle felt like he was pressing deep into Øystein’s stomach with every thrust, making Øystein’s body feel hot and tight. His teeth clenched down even tighter when Pelle’s angle changed and he was pushing against that spot from earlier. 

Øystein would have to have Pelle show him what was making him feel that way later, so he could find it on his own. Although, a major part of Øystein hoped that Pelle could do this for him again. Pelle was mostly quiet behind him, although he didn’t occasionally let out a moan or a shakier breath. His sounds were drowned out by Øystein’s own noises, but he still sounded perfect. 

“I want you to come for me,” Pelle whispered out, close to Øystein’s ear and making him shiver. He nodded the best he could and thought for a moment that Pelle wanted him to do it without being touched. A hand pressed down beneath Øystein’s body and wrapped around his cock a few seconds later, though. 

Pelle’s hands were soft and long, surprisingly talented as he touched Øystein. He wondered just how much experience Pelle had, but he was grateful for whatever had gotten him so skilled at this. Øystein let out a noise close to a wail and Pelle briefly worried that Øystein’s parents might hear him even through the gag, but as he warned earlier, he didn’t care enough to stop or slow down. He had a feeling that Øystein didn’t want him to either. 

Øystein fought to breathe through the gag and the noises that kept tearing their way from his chest, almost impossible to get a full breath in. His toes curled hard enough to cramp up, but he was pushed over the edge a moment later and pleasure overtook the pain. Pelle stroked him through it until it hurt before letting go of his cock, not stopping his own thrusts. 

Pelle panted like an animal against his ear as he got closer to the edge. It didn’t take much longer before he came too, spilling deep inside of Øystein and continued fucking it deeper into him. His thrusts slowed finally, after what had seemed like hours, and his breathing was still ragged. He was surprisingly aware, clean hand moving to pull the gag out of Øystein’s mouth. As he did, he heard Øystein choke on his own saliva and cough wetly for a few moments. 

“Are you okay?” Pelle asked and Øystein nodded, regaining his composure as his coughing fit died down. Long, clean fingers pressed into the back of Øystein’s hair, close to the roots at the top of his head. He wasn’t sure what Pelle was doing, but he mostly ignored it. His body was overwhelmed and Pelle was prone to doing odd things that Øystein didn’t quite understand. It was best to let it be. Shortly after, Pelle made a curious noise. 

“Øystein?” He hummed out and he could hear the grin in Pelle’s voice. He made a noise of acknowledgement. “You never told me you were a blonde,” And just like that, Pelle was once again back to his annoying self and he earned an elbow to the side for it. Although, it barely landed due to the angle and Pelle simply laughed at his efforts.

#eurodead #euronymous x dead #dead x euronymous #rpf #smut #nsft #lords of chaos #mayhem #oystein aarseth #pelle ohlin #euronymous #asks

[anxresi]

GOD am I sick of this. (Watch Out, MAJOR Rant Ahead)

Why do Chloe haters (nearly) ALWAYS insist on using this tired old line to ‘win’ an argument?!

No-one (at least anyone I’M paying attention to) is saying Chloe should get away with her bullying because of her shitty parents.

We’re saying poor Chloe has been a victim of character assassination, sabotage, purposeful vandalism, ruination etc by the very person who created her! No... not her fictional dad or mom... but a certain real-life Frenchman by the name of Mr Thomas Astruc.

If you want a somewhat over-exaggerated parallel, it would be like Da Vinci painting a moustache on the Mona Lisa, Michaelangelo chopping David’s ‘bits’ off or Geppetto making Pinocchio into firewood (I say this because there’s been TWO movies about the lying puppet in the last year. Hint: don’t watch the Disney one).

It’s like... I can’t even debate these people, because they haven’t just got the wrong end of the stick, we’re not even in the same forest!

My point is to those somewhat disingenuous individuals, and let me be VERY blunt here, because I ain’t repeating myself... (clears throat): 

Chloe’s Character Writing Has Been The Worst I’ve Ever Seen In A Professional Cartoon Show. The Fact They Utterly Destroyed One Of The Few People In Miraculous With Any Potential For Serious Development For Growth And Basically Replaced Her With Another Girl Who’s Just As Blandly ‘Perfect’ As Most Of The Other Females Demonstrates How Utterly Lacking In Ambition, Creativity And Talent The Makers Truly Are. (As If The Glaring Lack Of Other Positive Attributes To The Show Isn’t Evidence Enough) The Only Reason You Use A Completely Manufactured And Different Scenario Than The Case I Put Forward As Your Lone Defence Proves You KNOW I’m 100% Right. THAT’S Why So Many People Are Defending Her... Not Because They Think She Should Get Away With Her Progressively More Ridiculous Misdemeanors Inserted Into The Scripts To Convince The Audience To Hate Her More And More, But Because We Recognize The Less-Than-Subtle Route The Writers Have Taken In The Last Few Seasons To DESTROY Her Character, Her Role, Her Agency And Any Hidden Depths Or Layers She Might Have. This Is A Girl Who LOVED Her Daddy, (Occasionally) Valued Her Best Friend, Adored Adrikins, Confessed How Inadequate She Felt In Front Of Her Idol Ladybug, Made A Heartfelt Apology To Her Teacher In An Emotional Hug (It Made Me Cry :,/ ), Made REAL STRIDES With Her Behavior In terms Of Being More Independent Towards The End Of S2, Had An Intriguing Relationship With Her Favorite Stuffed Bear Which Acted As Her Conscience, Was Setting Herself Up To Be An Efficient Anti-Hero With Questionable Loyalties... And All This Fascinating Narrative Was Left To ROT In Favor Of Turning Her Into The Most Boringly Generic Baddie In The Entire History Of The Show. WELL DONE, EVERYONE. Then To Add Insult To Injury, They Claim This Was The Plan All Along And Her Rapid Deterioration Into A Teenage Psycho From A Standard School Bully Is Some Kind Of Bizarre Statement On ‘How Some People Can Never Change’ Rather Than The Obnoxiously Terrible Piece Of Hackneyed Writing It Actually Was. Damnation Arc? A Fancy Title For Utter Bullsh*t That’s An Insult To Miraculous Ladybug Fans’ Intelligence Everywhere, I Say. I Don’t Know About You Guys, But I Feel Cheated, Swindled, Bamboozled... You Name It, Or Just Thorughly P*ssed Off Should Suffice. Want Some Evidence For My Claims? Okay, Here Goes: Get Comfortable... Removing ALL Of Chloe’s Positive Traits And Redemptive Moments Overnight After S3. Pretending They Never Existed Or Happened In The First Place. Turning Her Into A Villainous One-Dimensional Sociopathic Object Of Ridicule. Giving Us Zoe Who’s Goodie-Two-Shoes Non-Personality Is No Substitute Whatsoever For The True Queen. Cynically Producing AN ENTIRE EPISODE in S5 For The Sake Of Retroactively Making CHLOE Solely Responsible For Adrinette Not Happening Sooner. (Thus Purposefully Exposing Her To More Vitriol From Obsessive Shippers) Pretending That She Had ‘Plenty Of Help’ To Change When The Truth Is No-One Seriously Attempted At All. (Even Saint Marinette ‘Encouraged’ Her And Good Ol’ Toxic Audrey To Bond By Being Awful To Each Other Instead Of Getting To The Heart Of Chloe’s REAL Issues), Breaking Up All Her Closest Relationships One By One Until The Only Person Left Is With Her Is Her Tyrannical Mother Who Promises To “Take Control’ Of Her Life Now In A Different Country That Her Father Has Disowned Her. (So I Guess Letting Chloe Get Further Traumatized By Her Main Abuser is Thomas’s Idea Of ‘Punishing’ Her... Great Message There For Children!) This Means Adrien Wants Nothing To Do With Her, Sabrina Has Been Unceremoniously Dumped And Even Butler Jean Has Been Fired With Little Fanfare. (Not That Chloe’s Had Any Interesting Interactions With Adrien Since S2... What Was The Point In Making Them Childhood Friends Again?! Her Dad Is Basically An Enabler Who Got Off Scot-Free Now He’s Resigned As Mayor And Looks To Have A Fresh Start With His ‘Perfect’ Adopted New Daughter, Sabrina Has Been MIA For YEARS And Only Gets Acknowledged This Once To Further Isolate And Damage Chloe And As For Butler Jean... Who?!) What It Boils Down To Is That Thomas Doesn’t Just Want To Strip Chloe Of The Bee Miraculous Permanently And Write Her Out Of The Show, Oh No! He Wanted To Transform Her Into The WORST Possible Version Of Herself To Try And Forcibly Extract Away The Last Few Fans She Has, And Then Give Her The WORST Possible Ending In The S5 Finale Despite Other Characters (E.g Gabriel) Doing FAR Worse And Yet Either Ending Up Getting ‘Redeemed’ Or Thought Of As Heroes(!). Oh, And Lila Has Multiple Moms Now(!), A Completely New Identity(!!) And Is The Main Antagonist From Now On(!!!)... I Think Her Superpower Is Dumbing Down Everyone Else So They’ll Believe Her Obvious Untruths. GREAT STORYTELLING, GUYS. Mr Astruc Is A Pathetic, Petty, Spiteful, Talentless Excuse For A Showrunner Who’s So Problematic To Discuss His Many And Numerous Controversies Would Take Another Post Probably Five Times As Big As This Already Overlong Wall Of Text, So We’ll Save That For Another Day. Good To See Though, That His ‘Brilliant” Scheme Appears To Be Failing And The More He Sticks Pins In Chloe’s Likeness The More Support She Gets Online And The More ‘Very Sweet’ Zoe Gets Hyped Up Into Something She’s Not, She’s Recognized As The Shallow Shill She Truly Is. I Just Hope Little Kids Aren’t Taken In By His Obvious Crusade To Make Chloe The Most Hated Teenager Since Joffrey. Why Couldn’t The Idea For Miraculous Have Fallen To A Guy Who Had Some Semblance Of Ability, Instead Of This Mediocre Hack Who’s Happy To Wallow In Stale Romantic Cliches, Underwhelming Superhero Fights, Uninteresting Lore, Non-Existent Continuity, Bbaadd Dialogue, Filler, Filler And More Filler, An Overabundance Of Characters = No Development For Them, ‘Special’ Episodes Abroad That Are Anything But, Prioritizing The Merchandise Above The Show ALWAYS, Allowing SO Many Spoilerific Leaks To Spread Under His Watch, Blocking Fans Left, Right And Center When They DARE To Question ANY Part Of His Writing (Because Apparently We’re Too Dumb To See The GENIUS)... And... rreesstt.

I am well aware that this post started out as one thing and ended up rather more convoluted than I hoped for, but Tumblr has always been a great source of therapy for me... so what better to get all my major bugbears out in one word soup of a paragraph that nobody will ever read if they know what’s good for them, before slouching back in my spinning chair with a glazed yet satisfied look on my face?

Nothing, that’s what.

#This was wwaayy longer than I intended #time to cut back on the coffee methinks #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #ml #ml spoilers #ml leaks #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #ml salt

[sultrysirens]

I just turned 21!!! and it got me thinking, how would the guys celebrate their 21st? Got any headcanons for us, Miss Nightshade?

Oh shit how long has it been since you sent this...? Timestamps aren't a thing lmao, sorry. And congratulations! :D

Of course the boys would wanna try alcohol! They've been waiting their whole lives for this moment!!

Raph goes first and foremost for the hard liquor like gin and rum

gotta prove he's a MAN amirite??

then he smells the fruity drinks Mikey and Don are sharing and changes his mind

can't be that bad if TWO of his bros are drinking it, right?!

Leo tries to keep sophisticated about it and totally puts on airs lmao

"I'll drink the sake one sip at a time like you're supposed to"

also tries to keep his bros under some measure of control

it does not last

Mikey just starts chugging the drinks he's always wanted to try

and also spits out any of them he doesn't like just all over the table

Donnie's the smart one, making sure he stays hydrated between drinks and imbibes slowly while keeping active notes of how drunk he's feeling after each one so he can figure out his tolerance level

soon Mikey and Raph are hanging on each other and singing along with whatever music is on the stereo, probably loudly and off-tune

it annoys Leo a lot but he can't say anything cause baby bro Mikey looks so h a p p y

Donnie suggests they play arcade games as they get progressively drunker

Leo eventually gives up on propriety and chugs an entire bottle of wine which he fails to remember doing

Donnie starts filming shit at that point while chortling all the while

he thinks he's more sober than he is and keeps trying to narrate and thinks he's holding the camera steady but NOPE

Mikey strangely holds his liquor the best, but he also drank the hardest so he's still the first to blackout

Raph and Leo devolve to chanting drinking rhymes and doing complex patty-cake games in an attempt to out-sober each other

Donnie is now mumbling and slurring everything he says but he still thinks he's being perfectly coherent

Mikey intermittently gets up, talks to himself, yells at the TV, has another drink, etc, then blacks out again

usually he's staring at the neon signs when it happens with his mouth open like

like he's just lost in how pretty lights are, like bros, bros, hey bros, do you -- do you see how -- how pretty lights are??

keeps passing out and waking up and he falls into the canal like seven times

Leo and Raph have devolved further into arguing with each other but at the same time are having two completely different conversations with each other

Raph's talking about monster trucks and Leo's talking about Mozart

they both think the other is responding to their subject

somehow Donnie ended up filming the ground and mumbling about the cracks in the concrete and the tiny microscopic civilizations living inside them like tiny worlds all of their own

do you think there's tardigrades down there??

next morning Mikey is facedown on the floor in a puddle of drool

Donnie is slumped over in a chair, snoring louder than he's ever snored

Raph made it to the bunk beds but fell asleep in Mikey's

Leo's in the dump truck and has no idea why or how he got there

they all slowly rouse while Splinter goes about making hangover remedies

they crawl to the kitchen one by one, and when they're all there and staring at each other with dry, sunken eyes, they simultaneously just go

"...That was AWESOME"

and thus did getting blackout drunk become a yearly birthday tradition

#siren nightshade #tmnt #all the boys #all the turtles #honestly would not encourage this #but these dumbfucks are too resilient and incorrigible #they don't take their own safety into consideration #they just really liked getting drunk together lmao #sfw #drinking

[lazar-codes]

21/07/2023 || Day 55

Frontend Mentor Social Media Dashboard - Log # 2

Made some small progress on this today. I managed to get some stuff done, namely getting the different main social media cards to display:

I also learned how to change the colour of an element depending on certain criteria. Yes, I already know how to do that in vanilla JS, but it's a little different with React. I can't just use "document.getElementById().style.color = myColor"; that will give an error due to the node not being rendered yet. So, I did some googling and saw that I can store the colour in a state, and then once the node is rendered I can change the state of the colour, like so:

Then, when I'm actually calling the element, I can directly change the colour of that element with the in-tag style keyword (the last <p> tag, notice it has "style = { {color: rateStateColour} }:

All in all, this function will display the rate in green if the rate is positive, and red if negative, as denoted by the direction of the triangle (as we can see in the first image). This is also good because it's given me an idea of how to tackle switching between dark mode and light mode, but that's a later problem.

However, despite this progress, I'm currently struggling with CSS, more specifically with adding the border colours to the top border of each card. All the cards are fine except for the "instagram" card, and the only difference is that this colour is in fact a gradient. As a result, I can't use the border-top-color attribute, but instead have to use the border-image attribute. Now, this isn't normally a problem, except for the fact that the border-image attribute doesn't respond to the border-radius attribute. In other words, the edges for the border are straight where my border image is, while the other borders are round. You can see this in the first image in the "instagram" card. I've been doing some digging and it seems like I need to MacGyver it to work, so that'll be something for later.

Also, can a component itself not have a className? Does the component's className only take into effect inside the component's return statement? As in I have to wrap everything in my return statement with a div with that className, and only then will my CSS take into effect? It's weird, but it seems to be the case.

Anyways, that's it for today! Working with React is proving to be fun!

#codeblr #studyblr #100 days of code #programming #coding #lazar blogs

[shadowofwar-goober]

The Shaman and the Bard- Ch. 4: It was an accident-

They were both accidents. Or, maybe, he was the real accident-

Warnings: Corporal Punishment, Lashings, Some Blood and Violence

xxx

    Hûra hated the weapons he was forced to use. No, that’s not right. He hated the swords given to him. Through… borrowing some swords from the quartermaster, Hûra has realized that the weapons he and his littermates were given were of poor quality. Unbalanced, without proper hilts, without proper sheaths… It was no wonder why they struggled to make any progress with their training. Yet they were blamed all the same and Hûra became all the more determined to be better. Not wholly to please- he was desperate for praise and for recognition of any kind, even if it was fleeting- but also to prove he was worth something. To them, to himself, to anyone that would see him pick up a weapon and fight.

    Swords didn’t feel right to him. In his hands, they fit… awkwardly. Hûra couldn’t imagine them as an extension of his person like the bladesmaster had instructed them all to do during their rigorous training exercises. They weren’t a part of him, merely… objects that he had in his hand. I was beginning to get under Hûra’s skin, though he hadn’t a clue as to why. During one of these training exercises, he broke one of his blades. 

    As much as he despised the weapons, it, of course, was an accident. Complaining about his blade chipping and cracking fell on deaf ears. When it did finally snap and splinter into different pieces while he was sparring with another uruk, Hûra was surprised by the anger directed towards him for such a common occurrence, as damaged and poorly made the equipment they were forced to use was. 

    It wasn’t the first time Hûra was struck for such a minor offense, but he would argue that no offense occurred. It’s a dull piece of shrakh blade that was due to crack any day! It didn’t stop his trainer and the quartermaster from hurling insults at him, his worth, his being an uruk and him being a disgrace to the Dark tribe and the clan as a whole. He was forced to his feet, after collapsing to his knees from the blow to his face, and stripped of his other, brittle blade.

    “If you can’t be arsed to take care of your weapons proper, then you don’t deserve proper weapons!” Hûra’s ears burned as he could feel the moist breath of the quartermaster hit his face. Others giggled. Some looked away, uncomfortable. He turned on his heel and left the young uruk standing there, awkward and jaw clenched tightly.

    “Stay put, boy!” He called out from over his shoulder as he entered his tent. 

    ‘Boy’. Hûra gritted his teeth. He should have just said ‘maggot’, instead, he thought bitterly. The mute stares were starting to get to him. The silence was broken by a tent flap being swatted open and Hûra felt tears of shame well in his eyes when two sickles were produced in front of him. 

    “Here, since you can’t treat your weapons with respect, you get to use tools instead. Since you obviously don’t get their importance…” His sneered as he shoved the tools into his chest. Hûra barely managed to collect them in time, before they slipped through his trembling hands. 

    More laughter… Everything he does is nothing but one big joke, he guesses. He wouldn’t laugh at them if this happened to anyone else. 

    It wouldn’t happen to anyone else. You are the sorriest one out of this entire lot… 

    Farming sickles… they weren’t meant for combat. That doesn’t mean they can’t be mastered, or at least somewhat learned. Hûra needed to make due with what was given to him. His form was improving, that he was certain of, so what’s the difference if it’s a new tool given to him? He’ll learn it all the same… He must, no matter what. 

    Soon, his tears began to dry and calm overtook him. They laughed. His littermates laughed and the older uruks laughed and his captains laughed, but the sting of humiliation Hûra had once felt began to warm into something different. The weight in his hands, the size… different possibilities began to form in his mind and he believes that this might be something far greater than the shoddy swords he was forced to weld in his training. Yes, with more practice and application, Hûra could make something great out of these so-called farming tools. 

    “Maybe Hûra should show us how it’s done!”

    “Yeah! C’mon and show us the way of the farmer!”

    “I’ll take him on!”

    He recognized that voice. Gubu. Just another lad that thinks he’s better because he’s bigger, older, and more favoured by the captains. Hûra didn’t like him, but he didn’t hate him, either. He was hesitant to take on the challenged duel. These sickles are sharp… They aren’t for training. One wrong move on either of their parts and someone will be seriously injured… 

    But he can’t turn away a duel.

    It will prove them all right if he declines. Hûra isn’t incapable. He isn’t stupid, he isn’t weak… No, he must do this. Even if he loses, not all of his honour will be tarnished irreparably. And if he wins… 

    “...as you wish.” 

    Excitement quickly spread around the training camp. Ever uruk wanted to see some unfortunate pup be beaten into submission by a stronger, more capable warrior. All the more because that pup was using farming tools as weapons. ‘Was it a dare?’ ‘It’s a punishment!’ ‘He’s going to die…’ ‘So what?! Blood’s blood! I wanna see it spilled!’ 

    A ring was formed around them. Not much room was given. Fine. Hûra bowed before his opponent, who merely grinned down at him with sharp teeth and malice in his eyes. As Hûra raised to his full height, Gubu already had his sword drawn and was pressing his advance towards him. 

    Gubu did exactly what he always did: rush forwards as a means to overwhelm his target and send them off balance. It worked to Hûra's advantage. His sickles were of short reach, but Gubu went ahead and closed the distance between them so quickly and so sloppily. Hûra hasn’t used these blades before, but he didn’t need to be a master to counter such a rushed action. 

    Hook one near the hand, around the blade and hook the other around his raised leg-

    Two crescent-shaped gashes were cut into his flesh: one on his right hand, between the thin skin of his thumb and forefinger, and another, much longer and deeper one around the back of his mid-calf. Hûra all but lifted him off his feet and sent him and his weapon crashing to the ground, the blade falling out of his reach. Not that Gubu could do much fighting after those injuries.

    He let out a cry of surprise. The crowd fell silent, shocked that one of the bullies of this company had not only lost a duel, but was injured by a nobody pup fresh out of the vats and with such ridiculous weapons to boot. The smell of blood hit Hûra’s nose and he felt sick. It wasn’t his intention to harm Gubu… even if he was a bastard that was asking for it. He holds the sickles in his right hand and offers his left to the fallen uruk, who stares at him, bewildered, before snarling and spitting at him. 

    “You little shrakh-!” 

    Hûra yelped and dropped the sickles as his braid was yanked hard from behind. Their trainer, seeing the commotion, had come to break up what fight was taking place and punish whoever was involved. Upon smelling blood and seeing Hûra, blades glistening black, standing over an injured upstart, flew into a rage and dragged him through the crowd that quickly dispersed, spreading thin enough to avoid the wrath of several pissed off captains who’s rage was focused solely on Hûra while also remaining close enough to witness the righteous retribution that was about to take place. 

    “Get back to work! The lot of ya! You two!” Two uruks that were still close to Gubu stood stiff. “Take ‘im to the healer! NOW!” They help Gubu to his feet, who promptly shoves them away and refuses assistance in walking. 

    There is relief when he gets up and walks away on his own. Hûra didn’t completely fuck up, then. Gubu wasn’t a cripple and he was going to survive. But he was still going to be punished. His hair was pulled tight even when he was shoved to the ground and onto his knees.

    “What did you plan to prove by doing that?!” It was shouted into his ear and Hûra thought he would go deaf. He hissed and winced in pain as his braid was tugged yet again.

    “-allenged- H-He ch-challenged M-ME-!” He’s silenced by more pain. 

    “So you go and try to cripple him?!” Hûra shook his head.

    “N-NO! -didn’t- I DIDN’T-” It didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say. Hûra knew the real reason why they were going to punish him. 

    They liked Gubu and hated him. Hûra was supposed to be humiliated by the quartermaster’s punishment of giving him sickles, not use them as actual weapons and make due with what he had. Once again, Hûra has proved himself to be a disappointment, regardless of his adaptability and willingness and capability to learn. 

    “Give the brat fifty lashes. Maybe then he’ll learn his place.”

    Hûra screwed his eyes shut as both his arms were grabbed and held out by two different elders. His shirt was yanked up by its helm and it rested bunched up around his neck. The sharp stones under his knees ground into his skin painfully. This will be painful, but he can endure. The heartache he faces, however, will be a struggle on its own. 

    Fifty lashes… Hûra can count them and be glad when it’s over with. The disappointment he is faced with, knowing he will never be desirable? 

    He wishes for it to be over with, already.

@space-arsonist, @sinick, @boozy-dwarf, @elvenmoans, @dirtymeanuruk

#lotr #middle earth shadow of mordor #middle earth shadow of war #uruk culture #uruk society #uruk hai #my ocs #uruk ocs #tw coporal punishment #tw blood and violence #he finds his weapon of choice #unjust punishments

[iturbide]

Will admit my dislike towards Shez is mostly based on how everyone seems to now be bashing Byleth for it, because "Oooo it was SO easy to make a protag with personality" or "Ooo Shez is doing the bare minimum and is still better" like?? You don't HAVE to put a character down when you say you like a character? And Byleth did have personality i thought - they're even shown to have a little in the brief glimpse you get before they get snapped out of the demo in my opinion. Or maybe I'm just being too sensitive :P

-- wait people are bashing Byleth because Shez exists?? What's even the point of doing that??? They're two different characters with two different personalities and please excuse me I'm about to devolve into an AC3 rant.

Okay so I have been an Assassin's Creed fan for a long time. I played the first game when it was newly out. That's how I got into the series. I have kept up with it...well enough? I played the first "three" (yes I'm counting the Ezio trilogy as a single unit, and I have played all of them), I eventually managed to get through the next trilogy of Black Flag, Unity which I loathed we do not speak of it, and Syndicate, and I keep trying to play Origins/Odyssey/Valhalla but the major changes to the control scheme have made them impossible for me to succeed at so at some point I need to go in and overhaul the controls so I can actually progress out of what amounts to tutorial land. This isn't about the later games, though: this is about that original trilogy, and you will understand why shortly.

So you might have noticed that the first "three" bit is a bit odd. See, the first game took place during the Third Crusade (1191), focusing primarily on the cities of Acre, Damascus, and Jerusalem and followed master assassin Altair as he royally fucked up, got demoted, and then worked his way back up through the ranks and learned some humility (among other things). He was kind of full of himself at first, but while he was an interesting enough guy overall, it was really the wider story and open world game mechanics that proved to be the major draw of the game and got it greenlit for another.

The second game took place during the Italian Renaissance, and followed a young Florentine nobleman Ezio through his teenage years and the trauma of losing his family to a conspiracy, becoming an assassin under the tutelage of his uncle, and hunting down the men responsible for having his family killed. Ezio was...well, very Italian: very expressive, very emotive, very suave, very charming, lots of gestures when he talks, very open and expressive and emotive. And he was popular -- so much so that, rather than going to Assassin's Creed 3, they instead did two spin-offs that continued to follow Ezio through his life: one covering the Borgia papacy and set mostly in and around Rome, and a second covering the rise of the Ottomon Empire in and around Constantinople.

Revelations brought Ezio's story to a close, at which point the series finally moved onto the "third" game, set during the American Revolution. And this was where they did something that to this day I find incredibly clever: they start the game having you play as Haytham Kenway, a British man working to establish an operative network in the colonies and find the use for a key he stole back in England. You spend roughly five hours with him, going through all the usual motions of an Assassin's Creed game, and while he's rather more brutal than Ezio was he still acts and talks just like the assassins we've come to know over the years...

...and then at the end of those five hours he gets together with his operatives and speaks the Templar phrase and pulls the fucking rug out from under you

Look to this day I think fondly of that reveal, that for all their enmity and their millennia of war the Assassins and Templars basically operate the same way such that there's very little to distinguish one from the other when approached from an outside perspective, it's brilliant and it plays so beautifully into the game's overarching themes

So after that, the main game opens up and we start following Ratonhnhaké:ton (who goes by Connor, in interactions with people outside his tribe), the son of Haytham Kenway who was raised by his Kanienʼkehá꞉ka mother among her people, as he sets out to join the Assassins for the sole purpose of stopping the Templars who threaten his people and their way of life. The whole game with him is probably my favorite narratively, and Connor is my favorite assassin to this day.

Fandom hates him.

Or at least it did when I was playing. For all I know opinions have changed. But there were lots and lots and lots of criticisms about Connor being emotionless, uninteresting, etc. despite the fact that he...really wasn't? He had a quieter emotional affect: he was generally more measured, more tempered, but that meant that when he raised his voice you knew he meant business. I loved his generally more stoic handling and how powerful that made his more emotive moments, but the fandom just looked at him and said that he had the emotionality of a brick wall and generally dismissed or derided him...in favor of his dad. Who was an upper class British man, cultured, polished, and emotive in familiar ways.

A lot more similar to Ezio, basically.

They latched onto the character that was more similar to the one they'd just spent three whole games with, and that sent the message to Ubisoft that that's what people wanted -- which is why the next three games featured Ezio clones as their protagonists: Edward Kenway, Arno Dorian, and Jacob Frye are all very Ezio-adjacent, though some more successfully pull it off than others. Connor became a failed experiment because people didn't want to bother learning how to read a new character: they just wanted more Ezio.

And that's what immediately comes to mind with Shez bringing on Byleth bashing. People want an emotive avatar for their Fire Emblem game: they don't want someone with a more nuanced emotional affect, they want Brash Shounen Protag, and when one appears they will bash the more nuanced character for being "emotionless" or "not having a personality" (which, for the record, I do think Byleth does have -- seeing how they become more emotive through their Supports in 3H is great, the way they become more expressive in B and A conversation, says a lot to me about how they're willingly adapting to the norms of people around them in order to better interact) when they're just not seeing what they want to see and therefore not paying attention.

Anyway, Shez is fine enough but I still prefer Byleth from all I've seen so far (though I do love Arval being a sassy little shit).

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem: three hopes #assassin's creed 3 #i do not care for haytham kenway myself #frankly loathe the man #give me more connor any day #shez is fine #byleth is great though #thank you for reading my long-winded rant