#the pain stage makeup got me fucked up

[zombiec]

Behave | Gojo Satoru

(Top male reader)(could be read as gender neutral reader)

(Rock band au)

Synopsis ☆: Gojo and reader are in a rock band and gojo gets mad because reader keeps flirting/leading on fans

Warnings: mirror fucking, riding, little sub reader but they redeem themself

A/n: please yall I been so lazy but trust some more are coming out (I be lyin.) also this is kinda really long or atleast it took me a long time to make it

You were currently backstage about to get ready for your show. Your band ‘The Painkillers’ was about to perform one of your newest albums. Your band consists of you (lead guitarist), Gojo (lead vocalist), Getou (drummer) and Shoko (backing vocalist). Your band was a rock/punk type, which was very popular.

You were currently in a chair in a room that was provided to you, getting your face touched up by a make-up artist. You were looking at yourself in the mirror admiring how fine you look. Suddenly someone busted the door open scaring both you and your makeup artist. Unfortunately for you when your makeup artist got scared she accidentally poked your eye, causing her to apologize profusely. You held onto your eye a little pissed off but you knew it wasn't her fault it was the idiots behind her.

Getou and Gojo both behind her with little smirks on their face which pissed you off. You politely turned to the make-up artist and asked her to please leave. She scurried out of the room with her head down taking her things with her. You looked at getou and scowled at him. “What the fuck do you two want? And next time knock??” gojo came over to you and put his arm behind your neck “Aren’t you excited??” you looked at him from your peripheral vision and moved his arm off of you. “I guess I am” Getou rolled his eyes and groaned “Stop trynna act all cool you know you're excited” “??? i’m acting completely normal” Gojo slapped your shoulder to get your attention…. Which kind of hurt, but you’d never admit that.

“Whatt?” you whined. Gojo looked at Getou then the door and he took the sign to get out. Gojo then walked to the door and locked it. You just stood there confused because what is about to happen….. He turned around and looked you right in your eyes. Gojo walked towards you slowly and wrapped his arms around your neck. It was cute to you because he had to go on his tippy toes. “Are you gonna behave yourself tonight?” your dick throbbed in your pants. You wrapped your arms around his waist and smirked: “What do you mean behave?” gojo put his hands in your hair and pulled you a bit closer “You know exactly what I mean” you knew exactly what he meant.

You made a confused face just to tease him. He pinched your ear and you let go of his waist groaning in pain. “I’m serious” you looked up at him and he had a little pout on his face. “Awee you look so cute” you said to him gushing because of how cute he looks! Gojo was tired of you teasing him and twisted your ear making sure it hurt more. “AHH STOP IT” you slapped his thigh and he let go of your ear.

Before anyone could say anything else there were continuous knocks on the door. You walked to the door and unlocked it. Opening the door you see Shoko. “SHOKOOO MY LOVEE” you engulfed her in a hug and kissed her cheeks “ok ok get off me” she replied giggling at your enthusiastic mood. You and Shoko are best friends you love her so much she’s such a sweetheart. “What’re you here for?” Gojo spoke up from behind you. “I’m here to get you two so we can get ready to go on stage” “damn it’s already time?” You said. “Yes now let’s go.”

Shoko grabbed your hand and walked towards the stage your band needed to be at. Unbeknownst to you gojo was behind you two frowning. The 3 of you made it to the stage, where Getou was waiting. “Damn finally we go on in like 10 minutes” Getou spoke up.

Finally, it was your band's turn. All 4 of you were dressed up in something that consists of black and purple, your band colors. All the lights went off and you could hear gasps in the crowd. Snickering a bit you and the rest went on the stage.

You walked to the side, gojo in the middle, Shoko next to him, and Getou at the end. You picked up your guitar and played a mini little riff while the lights were still off. Everyone’s attention was on the stage, it was completely silent. Suddenly the lights turned on.

Everyone in the crowd erupted into cheers and screams. You and Getou looked at each other with a shocked face because this is a big ass fucking crowd. Usually you guys fans fill up a bar or something..but jeez this is like a stadium.

Gojo introduced the band and we started to play our sets. In the middle of one of the songs you had a solo and you were currently in the middle on your knees playing the guitar like crazy. Sweat was dripping down your body and you were panting. Gojo could not take his eyes off you he just wanted his mouth on your dick immediately.

In your own world you saw how your fans were screaming and raising their hands like they wanted you to touch them. You saw this one cute boy who was kinda short and getting pushed around in the crowd. He has blue hair and had cute little glasses with thin frames. When your guitar solo was over and Shoko started to sing you walked to the edge of the stage and took the boys hand placing it on your stomach and dragging it down to your belt.

The boy immediately blushed and started squealing. Everyone around him started screaming louder and you couldn’t help but smirk. You leaned down and gave the boy a kiss on the cheek and mouthed ‘call me’ while handing him a slip of paper with your number on it.

You felt a little bad though, Because you only did that to make gojo jealous. You and gojo weren’t a couple at all but you guys have fucked a few times. You both have no feelings for each other whatsoever or that’s what you thought atleast.

On Gojos part he does have feelings for you. He knows you don’t have any for him, but he’s cocky enough to think that he could make you fall for him.

After you went back to to your place you looked to your side to see Getou laughing. You made a confused face at him and he mouthed “you’re in trouble.” You sulked. You weren’t ready for after the concert. 30 minutes later the concert ended. You and the others were now signing anything people handed to you. You were lucky because a girl asked you to sign her boobs, had you giggling like a little girl.

The line for VIP guests was ending and at the very end of the line was the boy who you interacted with during the concert. You smirked at him when he came up. “Hi beautiful.” the boy looked up and you can't even lie he was so gorgeous, if you and Gojo didn't have anything going on you definitely would be going after him.

“Um hi can you sign this for me” he spoke up shyly and pushed what he had in his hand towards you. What he gave to you was a cute mini Spiderman plushie that you thought was so cute. You cooed at his shy persona and signed the plushie on its big ass head. you handed it back to him expecting him to walk away but he stayed where he was. “Did um- did you really want me to call you?” he was so shy it was so cute. “Sure if you want to, you're really cute I wouldn't mind getting to know you better” You were lying, you don’t want to be in a relationship . Especially with a fan. His face brightened up. He giggled, said thank you, then ran away.

….” oh boy,” you thought. You turned around to see if the others were done just to see Gojo glaring at you from the side. You looked back at him and made a confused face. He rolled his eyes and stood up. Once he stood up he roughly grabbed you by your collar and dragged you to his dressing room. Not without telling getou and shoko that you two will be right back.

Gojo walked to his dressing room and pushed you in. He locked the door behind him and glared at you. “What do you think you’re doing” you looked at him with a smirk on your face. “Im not doing anything..are you jealous baby?”

Gojo groaned. He was so fucking annoyed by you and your dumb-ass charm. He hates how stupid you are, He hates that you always flirt with the fans and give them false hope. He hates that you're doing this to make him jealous. He hates that he can’t do anything about it because you two are not together. He fucking hates you.

Gojo went up to you hitting you on your chest constantly. “I.Fucking.Hate.You” you knew how gojo felt for you, but you just can’t reciprocate his feelings. If things go bad in your relationship you dont want it to ruin your friendship with him. You love gojo but you can’t lose him just because you both decided to turn your friendship romantic.

With gojo still hitting your chest which was starting to sting a little (a lot.) you caught his wrists in both your hands before he could hit your chest again. He looked up at you. you could see the tears in his eyes and it made you soften a little bit.

Wrapping his arms around your neck, you leaned down and connected your lips onto his. Almost immediately he kissed you back. At first the kiss was slow and a bit romantical but then the kiss turned hot and steamy. Gojo pushed you in the chair that was conveniently placed behind you. You fell back with a “umph” and he crawled right ontop of your lap

“We can’t do it in here gojo” you said with a little panic in your voice because gojo is very vocal and these rooms are NOT soundproof. You started to adjust yourself so you could stand up but gojo pushed you into the chair with more force…you can’t even lie his aggressiveness was turning you on.

“I know you want me as bad as I want you” he whispered in your ear unbuttoning your shirt. All rationality left your head. Gojo kissed down your neck leaving marks on it like y’all both won’t get in trouble with your manager later. Gojo saw you not paying attention to him and pressed his palm on your crotch.

You winced and looked down at him. “Focus only on me” he spoke against your lips. You’ve had enough. You grabbed gojo by his ass and kissed him causing him to moan into your mouth. You grounded his ass onto your still clothed cock and moved on your hands to his hair. Pulling on his hair to separate you two you looked at his face flushed and his breath being hitched.

You giggled a bit “we’ve barely done anything and you’re already fucked up” gojo rolled his eyes and unzipped your pants. You were intrigued by what he was about to do so you just let him do whatever he was going to. He pulled out your semi hard dick and stroked it until it was fully erect, earning a little groan from you.

Gojo got up from your lap and pulled down his pants. He then took off his shirt and hopped right back onto your lap. Taking your dick in his hands before he lined it up with his hole. “W-wait! Don’t you need to be prepped” you stuttered out taken aback by his eager attitude. “No” is all he said as he sat on your dick and took it fully. “Holy fuck” you breathily let out, he was so tight and warm you could stay buried in him forever.

Gojo let out a moan as he started riding you slowly. You were sitting in the chair while gojo was sitting on your lap knees on the sides of your thighs riding you. “Speed up” you grunted out. Not wanting to disappoint gojo sped up thinking about how you gave that blue haired freak your number making him angrier.

All of a sudden gojo starts riding you like a fucking maniac. “F-fuck yes this dick is mine isn’t it” he said while rocking back and forth on your dick causing you to get a little vocal. “Fuck yes it’s yours. All yours baby” hearing that made gojo go feral. He placed his feet next to your thighs and started bouncing on your dick.

Infront you two was a mirror so you could see your entering and exiting Gojos hole and it was doing something to you. You could feel your release building up in your stomach and you could tell gojo was almost at his limit by the way he was shaking. Gojo grabbed the back of your neck and slammed his lips onto yours causing him to cum right on your stomach. Even though he came he kept bouncing because he wanted your seed in him..he needed it. “Come onn cum in meee. I wanna be bred” him saying he wants to be full of your cum sent you over the edge as you fill him up, watching as it leaks out of him in the mirror.

Gojo looks up at you seeing you panting, he smirks and chuckles. “who’s fucked up now?” No way in hell were you about to get bitched by gojo. You hopped off the chair with him on you still and placed him on the counter infront of you. You flipped him over so he was facing the mirror. “W-what’re you doing?” He spoke up “You wanted it right? It’s yours? So take it.”

You immediately entered gojo from the back causing him to let out a moan and grip onto whatever was in his line of vision. You gripped him by his waist and started thrusting into him. “A-AH FUCK PLEASE” you shushed him and reminded him that you two need to be quiet because again this room is NOT sound proof. “Shh baby we gotta be quiet” you said slivering your hand around his neck and fucking into him in that position.

“IM GONNA CUM PLEASE PLEASE GO HARDER” you lifted his leg and put it on your shoulder going harder than before causing the

Counter infront of y’all to shake. “Come on baby cum for me” you pulled his head up towards the mirror “look at yourself so pretty and fucked out. You look best like this.” You said and kissed him. He came with a loud moan his cum shooting on the mirror. It was quiet in the room for a few. Gojo catching his breath and you starting to clean up the cum on the mirror.

Both of you paused what you were doing when you heard a knock on the door. Gojo looked at you to answer it since he was obviously fucked out of his mind. “Who is it” “it’s nanami your manager” “oh shit” both you and gojo muttered at the same time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hi guys

Ts MIGHT be ass idk

Please request someone as a cam boy so I can go crazy 😽

Also sorry for not posting and posting late I’ve been in a slumpppp. Senior year of highschool is NOT for the weak.

HI COOKIE @xozombiee this one’s for youuu

#dom reader #top reader #bleh :p #seme male reader #sub jjk #sub character #dom male reader #jjk smut #sub gojo #sub gojo smut #for my biggest supporter ash

[dark-mnjiro]

speaking in tongues ::: .01.

Author’s Note: hello again everyone! Welcome to part one and thank you for so much love on the prologue. I know it was quite short but it was needed to set up the story. I hope you guys enjoy part one. Make sure to check out the content warning from the masterlist as it has general content warning. Also, again, I will be tagging “part specific” content warnings. Always check both.

Content Warnings: please see the masterlist for general content warnings for this fic. Please be advised drug use, alcohol content, violence/abuse, creepy men being creepy, exotic dancing, lap dances, sexual innuendos/names/etc, fucking Adam is a content warning himself - let’s be real.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

part one

“How the devil himself could be pulled out of me”

The echo of her name roared over the bass of the music that blared in the club as she stepped onto the stage and took hold of the pole. A smirk curled over her lips before quickly spinning around the pole in time with the music. She could hear her fellow dancers cheering her as well from backstage as she landed another pole trick as the music ended.

Money pelted the stage as Imps scampered to collect the cash into a bin. She gave the onlookers a quick bow before heading backstage where she was greeted with a hug by one of her close friends, Angeldust.

“That was fucking phenomenal baby!” he exclaimed, grinning.

Laughing, she ruffled his snowy hair. “Shut the fuck up. Everything I know is because of you.”

“Don’t be so modest, Cashmere,” he replied, scoffing.

One of the Imps tapped Cashmere on the thigh causing her to glance down. The Imp held up a wad of cash, her earnings from the dance.

Cashmere took the cash before thumbing through the cash, counting in her head but immediately frowned. “This can’t be right.”

The Imp looked down to the floor. “Valentino took his cut.”

“Mother fucker,” she snapped.

Angeldust frowned. “How much did he take this time?”

The Imp sighed. “Over half… nearly seventy percent.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Cashmere cursed again before heading to her dressing room. She tossed the cash on her vanity before falling into the seat. She rubbed her eyes before leaning back on her chair letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh, Chiquita~”

Her lips dipped into a frown as she heard her dressing room door opening and Valentino stepped inside. “I see you got your earnings,” he teased as his firm towered over her. “You know, I wouldn’t have to take such a high cut if you would just make a itty bitty deal with me—”

“No.”

His crimson eyes narrowed at her. “Fine.”

“Now if you excuse me,” Cashmere said, turning away from him. “I’m going to change and head home—”

“Oh not this time,” he said, shifting his weight to one leg as his gold tooth poked out from his smirk. “I have a high-paying client…”

“I don’t–”

He snatched her up by her hair before hissing. “I dare you to interrupt me again.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes as she hissed in pain. “I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Sure, Cashmere owned her soul…

But that didn’t stop Valentino from trying to break her down so she’d inevitably give it up to him… he had tried every tactic. Manipulation. Financial distress. And most recently, physical harm.

He dropped her to the floor. “Now get cleaned up, princesa,” he commented. “You have ten minutes before I drag you to that room.”

“Of course Val…” she managed to say. “I’ll be out soon.”

The door slammed before she rolled onto her side and curled up into the fetal position. Cashmere gently wiped away the tears burning at her eyes before hugging herself… the only amount of comfort she would ever find in Hell.

She managed to stand up and clean up the makeup stains on her cheeks before readjusting her hair. High-paying client, huh? What kind of deprived lunatic did Val happen to find that offered enough money to convince him to offer her up as a private dance… or worse.

She recalled conversations with Angeldust that the majority of private dances ended in some sort of solicitation for sex…

As if she hadn’t done that enough while she was alive.

“Just keep telling yourself you’re anywhere but here,” she told herself as she changed her outfit and shoes. Perhaps, this punishment in hell was well deserved after all the deprived things she did while living…

Shaking her head, Cashmere quickly planted a smile on her face in the mirror as she checked herself out one last time. “Performance. Nothing more. It’s not real.”

“Cashmere!”

Opening the door, she smiled at Valentino who was waiting outside her dressing room door. “Sorry. Shoes were being difficult.”

He bought the lie as he smirked. “You look delicious, princesa.”

If she knew he wouldn’t strike her, she would have visibly gagged at the compliment.

She followed him toward the private dancing rooms. The hallway was barely lit as she passed Angeldust, who frowned at her appearance in that hallway. She gave him a shallow shake of her head, indicating she would explain later.

Valentino pulled back the curtain to one of the rooms as she stepped inside. “Show him a good time.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a threat.

She couldn’t see his face, not that it mattered. No one in Hell was completely human anymore… she noted what she believed to be horns on his head. Oh well, it’s not like it mattered to her.

The music cut on, catching her off guard with the type of rock music that was playing. Not something she was accustomed to dancing to… but no matter.

“Well?”

She held back a scowl before moving to straddle his lap. The dance started as she began moving her hips.

“Are all you bitches like this here?”

…what the fuck did he just say?

“I’m sorry?”

“How is this supposed to be hot?” he asked, scoffing. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Cursing under her breath, she looked back at him. Her eyes had adjusted enough to notice that it seemed his face was similar to a screen. Perhaps he was another TV demon like Vox.

A clawed hand came up and grasped her chin, pinching it in its grasp. A yellow smirk came up on the screen. “That’s right. Lemme see that pretty face.”

She jerked away from him, unable to hide the scowl on her face now. “Don’t touch me.”

He tutted. “I paid for you. I can touch you if I want.”

Fuck. He was right.

She decided to focus on the music again and try to ignore his random commentary throughout her dance. It was insulting really… to be criticized by someone that had no idea how talented she truly was.

This had to be Valentino’s way of sticking it to her in another way.

“That’s it?”

Cashmere rose and stepped back. “I’ll have you know I’m one of the top dancers in this club!”

“Could’ve fooled me. I fucked plenty of bitches livelier than you.”

Was this happening?

“You’re not even that hot you know?”

“Funny,” she hissed. “Coming from someone with a hard-on right now.”

Silence filled the room.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Cashmere crossed her arms before shifting her weight from one leg to another. “I’m not repeating myself.”

He jumped to his feet, his body towering over her before backing her against the back wall. “You’re a little cuck aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped as she shoved him away from her. “Give me my money and get out.”

Silence.

He stepped closer to her. Her hands came back up and tried to force him backward but this time he didn’t budge.

“You’re a filthy, little sinner.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He scowled. “I’m going to enjoy-”

Cashmere put her hands back up and aimed to push his face away from her. Her hand slipped, almost screaming when she noticed it wasn’t his face, but a mask, which had turned completely ninety degrees.

“Mother fucker!” he snapped, adjusting the mask.

“A mask?!”

“Good observation genius.”

Her brow furrowed. She reached around and snatched the mask off of his head. Her eyes widened before he stumbled back, cursing at her.

Golden eyes.

“You’re a fucking angel?!”

He snatched his mask back. “I’m THEE angel babe.”

“Why the fuck are you even here?!”

He ran a hand through his dark locks before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Heaven business. Studying you skanks down here,” he explained. “They want to know what the fuck is going on down here so they sent the most holy of souls-”

Cashmere inwardly groaned. She recalled several newscasts in the past talking about Heaven’s first soul… a self-proclaimed “bad boy” of sorts. Everyone knew his name… everyone knew his story.

“Adam? The first man Adam?”

“Took you long enough babe.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Adam shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust his mask, cursing under his breath as he did so. “Babes… relax.”

“Also why the fuck are you in HELL. In a STRIP CLUB.”

“I told you,” he countered. “I’m studying.”

“Studying what? Hard ons? Don’t get those in Heaven?”

He scoffed. “Please. I’m very well-versed in that doll face. All dick came from me after all.”

“…you need to leave. Now.”

Groaning, he sat back down on the velvet couch. He moved his hand to mimic her speaking. He leaned his head back against the top of the couch as his legs spread apart.

“You’re a pill.”

“Fuck you.”

He snorted. “As if I would waste my time fucking a filthy sinner.”

Her feline-like ears flattened against her head. “Like I said,” Cashmere hissed as her tail flicked wildly behind her. “I’m not the one with an erection.”

He tilted his head. “Can’t stop staring? Can’t say I blame you. The dick is fire, doll face.”

“You know what,” she hissed. “Forget the money. Give it to Val.” She headed toward the door.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he quickly said. “Just wait for a second, princess.”

She closed her eyes in frustration again. But, she paused her movements.

“I think you’ll be the perfect little project to study while I’m down here,” he said before standing up. “You’re going to be so much fun to torment. So be at the embassy tomorrow. I’ll discuss with your “boss” about the arrangements we have set up. No questions from him.”

“He’s-”

“If I pay him enough and tell him I’m fucking you,” Adam continued. “It’ll be enough.”

A frustrated sigh fell from her lips. “Deal,” she replied. “What are you even studying?”

“That’s for me to know,” Adam retorted. “And you to find out.”

“…you don’t know, do you?”

“Fuck you.”

Cashmere checked her surroundings as she reached Heaven’s embassy before sneaking inside. She couldn’t let her reputation be spiked by making an appearance here. As she looked at the tall ceilings, she had to admit that Heaven sure knew how to make beautiful structures.

“…why do we even need an embassy?” She questioned under her breath.

“To keep an eye on you filthy monsters.”

Squeaking, she jumped forward in surprise at the voice behind her. A swear fell from her lips as she turned to see Adam standing behind her looking confused by her reaction.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me!”

Rolling his eyes, Adam moved his way around her before falling back into his chair. He was wearing his mask again.

“Is there a reason you wear a mask?”

He was silent for a moment. “No.”

He sounded almost unsure of his answer.

Cashmere took the seat in front of his desk before shrugging. “I don’t know any angels… do they all wear them?”

Adam was quiet again, pondering the answer to that question. “Yes and no,” hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her. But her stare only told him he would have to elaborate.

He began to explain the different types of beings that lived in Heaven. There was God. The Ruler, the Creator. The Seraphim. The Cherubs. And finally, The Angels.

“So some Angels are human souls, like mine?”

Adam nodded. “They take many forms. Animals, humans… whatever you want. It’s Heaven. The Seraphim can change their forms… often their true forms scare the human souls so they take on more appealing forms.”

She sat back and tapped her chin. “Interesting.” She wondered what Heaven looked like if it was similar to what Hell was like. Was it cleaner? Was it as crowded? Were the souls up there happy? Who was she kidding, of course, the souls in Heaven were happier. None of them were being punished for their actions while they were living.

“Is it nice being happy all the time?”

Confusion filled his golden eyes before quickly recovering and smirking at her. “Of course babe… Every day is a wonderful day in Heaven.”

Cashmere didn’t catch the brief lapse of his mask before offering him a nod. She knew that she would never belong in Heaven. Not with her past and her choices while she was alive. “So what is this supposed to do?” she asked.

Adam let out a frustrated sigh before stretching his arms over his head. “I fucking told you<” he countered. “To study sinners.”

“Study what?” she replied, flatly.

He glanced down at his desk at the folder that Sera had given him before sending it to the embassy. Inside, he found an outline of questions and discussions that she and Emily wished for him to touch base on with a sinner. How fucking boring were these questions?

“The fuck did you do to screw up so badly, you ended up here?”

The question was meant to offend her, Cashmere knew that much, but she managed to smile at him. “I’m a phenomenal liar,” she replied, cooly. “How will you know that I’m telling the truth?”

“You think I give a shit if you’re telling me the truth?” he countered, “I’m merely here to make the Seraphim happy.”

Sighing, Cashmere raked a clawed hand through her hair. “Where do you want me to start?”

Adam merely shrugged in response.

Shaking her head, Cashmere glanced off to the side as some of the memories of her living life crossed her mind. Running away from home at such an early age wasn’t the best decision she had ever made, but it helped Cashmere keep her sanity while she was still living. She fell into prostitution by eighteen. Clients would often stiff her after services, so she learned how to fight back from fellow call girls. She often lured men in with promises of sex for quick cash before hitting them over the head with some sort of blunt object and robbing them blind.

“So not only a skank,” Adam interrupted. “But a thief too.”

Cashmere should have seen this insult coming from miles away but still caused her to frown. “Sometimes you have to do shit to eat.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t imagine you’ve ever gone hungry a day in your life.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Cashmere shrugged before smirking in response. “Nothing.”

“Calling me fat?!”

“If the shoe fits.”

“You know what,” Adam sneered. “Fuck you!”

Cashmere leaned back in the chair, stretching out her back. “My dad left when I was young. Never looked back,” she commented. “My mom couldn’t afford all of us kids. So being the oldest, I took myself out of the equation, to make it easier for her. Last I knew, they were doing amazing without me. That’s all I could ask for.”

His eyes narrowed, confused by her statement.

“I loved my family,” she said. “I couldn’t let them starve.”

Sadness flooded her mind. She had done the right thing, right?

Adam’s eyes fell to the papers on his desk. “They were starving?”

“I imagine the world is a very different place than when you were living.”

He rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “I’m not going to agree with you if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Cashmere rolled her eyes. “So you never told me why you were at a strip club wanting a lap dance.”

“I don’t think I should have to explain myself to whore trash like yourself.”

“Just trying to make conversation I guess,” she sighed. “What now?”

Adam didn’t respond as he was lost in writing a few notes down in the paperwork scattered on his desk. She tried to strain her eyes to read what he was writing before he slammed his hand over the paper and pulled it closer to himself. Her eyes scanned upward, catching his golden hues glaring back at her.

“Haven’t you heard of the saying, curiosity killed the cat, kitten?”

“I’m already dead,” she countered. “It can’t get any worse.”

Touche.

“Just don’t fucking look at my notes okay? Top secret shit for Heaven.”

Cashmere offered a nod, a silent agreement that she would no longer try to spy on his notes. “Do you think we can get this done in one day?”

“I wish I could, sugartits,” he said. “But they said I have to spend three months—”

“Three months?!”

“Oh yeah,” he teased. “Get used to me doll.”

“My name is Cashmere.”

“I know.”

“So call me by my name.”

“I never call bitches by their names.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “So the entire three months you’re here… you’re going to insist on calling me sugartits?”

“Well they are nice,” he teased. “Even for a sinner.”

Adam’s laughter echoed throughout the room as Cashmere decided it was best to not respond to his comment. She couldn’t fathom how she was stuck in a room with a man - let alone an angel - who laughed at his jokes.

“Are we done here?” she finally said.

“Hot date?”

“Hotter friends,” she countered. “We’re going out. Blow off steam.” Her phone buzzed before pulling out the cell phone and saw a message from Angeldust mentioning he had scored some drugs they could split at the bar. “I’m out of here,” she said before turning to leave.

Offended, Adam scoffed. “Fine. Be here tomorrow.”

She didn’t respond as the door shut behind her.

“Fuck yes, bitch!”

Cashmere laughed as she reached the club with Angeldust and Cherrybomb waiting for her at the entrance. Angeldust offered the bouncer a playful wave before gaining access to the club with the other two. Cherrybomb instantly pounced on Cashmere with a hug before showering her two friends with compliments and a complaint weaved in here and there.

“You two are always fucking working,” she groaned.

“Some of us are career bitches,” Angeldust replied before ordering the trio a round of shots.

Scoffing, Cherrybomb waved him off before glancing at Cashmere. “You too miss famous dancer?”

Cashmere rolled her eyes. “He’s right. Some of us have careers,” she teased before downing her shot. The alcohol burned down her throat and felt so good at the same time. The alcohol in Hell was different - it seemed to hit harder.

“Here,” Angeldust said, pulling out a baggy of white powder.

“Got a dollar?”

“You know it, baby,” he teased before rolling the single into a tube as Cashmere poured the powder out onto the table and used a card to line it up into three lines before putting the remaining powder back into the baggy. “You first, Cherrybomb!” she said before waving down a bartender to get them another round of shots.

Their friend grinned before taking the makeshift tube snorting the line of cocaine and chasing with another shot of alcohol. Angeldust followed next. And it was finally Cashmere’s turn.

The rush of the cocaine hit her head first before the burn of the alcohol slipped down her throat. “Fuck,” she said. “Good shit Angeldust!”

He flashed her a playful grin. “Only the best for my favorite bitches.”

“Let’s go fucking dance!” Cherrybomb exclaimed.

Cashmere jumped to her feet. “Okay!”

Cherrybomb grabbed her and Angeldust, tugging them out to the dance floor. The music's bass filled the air as Cashmere closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the music and her high. Her hips swayed in time with the beat as she felt eyes fall on her and her friends. Of course, they couldn’t enjoy a moment of peace dancing without some disgusting ghoul trying to catch a glimpse.

“Shit,” Cherrybomb hissed, glancing over Cashmere’s shoulder. “Don’t look now but a couple of fuck faces are trying to interrupt us.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this!” Angeldust whined.

Cashmere whipped around, catching two demon men approaching them, their frames towering over her. Her eyes narrowed before baring her teeth at them. “Back. The. Fuck. Up.”

One of the demons backed down immediately, but the other… Rage filled his eyes before snatching her wrist and jerking her toward him. “I know you,” he growled. “You’re that little skank dancer at Val’s club, aren’t you? Fucking tease. Won’t fuck anyone in the club.”

She tugged her hand back, rubbing her wrist. “Fuck off. We’re having fun. No one invited an ugly fuck like yourself,” she snapped. “Besides, you couldn’t afford even a second of one of my dances.”

His fist rose, aiming to strike her.

“Oh big scary man,” she taunted. “Gonna hit a girl like a little bitch huh?”

The strike never came, instead, Cashmere watched as he was launched into a table by another bystander striking him.

“What the fuck!”

Whipping around to see who had hit the stranger, Cashmere’s eyes widened upon catching a familiar LED screen with a pair of horns, sporting a glare. “The FUCK are you doing here?!”

Angeldust quirked an eyebrow. “Impressive,” he commented, “you know him Cash?”

She didn’t have time to react, let alone explain who this was to Angeldust. She grabbed Adam by the arm, quickly tugging him into one of the vacant “sex rooms” and locking the door.

“I can’t even begin to explain what a hazard it is for you… an ANGEL, to be waltzing around a fucking club - IN HELL.”

Adam shrugged, looking away from her. “Piece of shit can’t touch my project.”

“I was handling myself fine.”

“Not from where I was standing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he replied, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Saw those slutty dance moves.”

Rolling her eyes, Cashmere raked her fingers through her hair, moving some stray bits from her face. A sigh fell from her lips as she took a seat on the velvet couch. “Just go back to the embassy,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine and I’m with my friends-”

“Oh yeah Angeldust the porn star, super safe.”

“...you know Angeldust?”

Adam seemed to avoid answering the question before grumbling. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” Cashmere said, flatly. “You go, I’m staying.”

“You’re fucking trashed and you’re high. Let’s go before some fucking slimy sinner tries-”

She decided not to respond before standing up and heading to the door. She pulled back on the handle before his hand shot out and slammed it shut. She could feel his much larger form, towering over her from behind. His chest pressed against her back, causing her to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

“Adam?”

“Are you going to fucking listen now?”

Slowly, she turned around, catching the LED screen on his mask glaring at her.

“Answer me.”

Cashmere pressed her back against the wooden door frame as far as it could go. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he made her feel so small versus any other garbage demon on the street. “I’m with friends Adam. You don’t tell me what to do.” She tried to keep her voice stern.

He leaned down to her level before pulling his mask off. His golden eyes stared at her - almost with disgust. Perhaps this was why… He despised her.

“You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

“The fuck are you going to do? Make me?”

His eyes narrowed before moving closer to her face. “Don’t tempt me.”

Her hand came up to paw at the door for the handle again.

He snatched her wrists, holding her hands over her head. “We’re leaving now.”

“W-what? Let go!”

Adam slipped on his mask again before tossing her over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Fuck you!”

Adam shrugged. “That can be arranged, sugartits.”

“I hate you!”

“Feelings mutual, dollface.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel Adam x original character #adam x oc #Adam x original character #hazbin hotel Adam fanfiction #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel x original character #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam x reader #adam x you #adam x y/n #hazbin hotel adam x you #hazbin hotel Adam x y/n #Hazbin fanfiction #hazbin #original characters #original character #fanfiction #fanfic

[crxmxnzl-c0rpzes]

What if meantor!Ellie x tributer!reader? Like a relationship like Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray??

-----

The other tributes were sleeping on the rocky, dirt covered floor. You stayed awake not wanting to fall asleep because of your overthinking. But your thoughts were interrupted by a voice you knew. It was Ellie, your mentor. You immediately got up towards her. The last time you two were together it was where the hunger games was going to take place. Tributes and mentors were taking a look at the arena but then bombs took place and destroyed most of it.

And now she was in front of you, inches away but on the other side of the metal tall fence. You couldn't bare away from her green eyes. They were mesmerizing. Even though it was dark and the only that was giving light was a street lamp. They still shined.

"Those bombs have changed everything. They blew the walls up. So, that means you can't escape up in the stands." She explained quickly and quietly. She was out of breath and frantic about it, "There's a hole in the floor. You gonna go there. It leads to tunnels. I went there myself." Her eyes darted between yours. You nodded, letting her know you were listening. "So, once you hear that fucking bell ring. You fucking go. You- You ignore everyone else. You just go. You go alone." She continued. Your face dropped at the last three words but you nodded. "Okay, there's a hole" you repeated her words, more to yourself so you don't flip the fuck out. "You don't trust anyone. You just lay low down there until it's safe to come out." She simplified.

You breathe in deeply, "Thank you... For taking care of me." You never thought you'd ever say that towards someone. "I can't let you die" she stated, "You saved me."

The roof came trembling down, electricity started fires, the walls fell down and pillars came with. Who would've known your mentor would be crushed by one.

She screamed in pain causing your attention to dart towards her. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched. "Shit, shit, shit." You repeatedly muttered. You ran towards her and you hands fell to the pillar. You grab underneath it to pull it up but it was too heavy. You looked at Ellie, she was shocked that you stayed to try and help. It made her go silent until she saw a tribute escape. "What are you doing?" She yelled, "The exits open!"

You looked at the exit and watched the tribute run but then you looked back down at Ellie. You tried lifting the pillar again, ignoring her comment on the exit. "Go!?" She continued. You shook your head no, "You got a breathing heart. You're not in these tournaments. Why do you wanna die?" You yelled, barely hearing yourself from the collapsing building. You struggled pulling the pillar up. "Help!" You shouted, praying that one of these stupid guards would come and help.

You looked between her eyes then towards her lips. That's bad. That's really bad. "Is this real?" She interrupted your thoughts once again. "Just tell me, if I'm gonna risk everything. That song?" She questioned you. "That song was payback. That's it." You shook your head, "My ex cheated on me with my friend, used-to-be. They dated behind my back, thought I didn't notice. The mayor's daughter-" "The girl from the reap" you nodded, "was my friend but she had a liking to my girlfriend at the time and I guess my ex would rather have a fucking beaver than me. My friend was psycho, she was crazy jealous and had her Pa read my name on that fucking stage. But now everyone will know what they did to me." You concluded.

Ellie looked down at the ground and bit her bottom lip. She nodded at your words in understanding. She reached her hand into her jacket and pulled out a compact, handing it towards you. "Take this" she whispered quieter than before. She quickly pushed the tiny makeup container into your hands. You frowned in confusion, "No, it's too fancy" Ellie was quick to reply, "No, it's not a gift. What's in here, you don't touch. Fuck, don't even breathe it in because small amounts can kill you. Listen, I know what wars and battles do to you, okay? I've seen it and there will come a time you will need this." She looked between the compact in your hands and your eyes.

Once you finally look up towards her she says, "We all do things we aren't proud of to survive." You clench your jaw and your eyes are widen in shocked and fear. You look back down towards the rat poison in your hands. You're gonna need to use this. You don't want blood on your hands, but it's the only way to survive when it comes to you and one other person or maybe several people.

"We're gonna win this" she mutters. "We're gonna win this together."

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

I was listening to Can't Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo and had the inspiration to write this. Thought of making this longer but it's 2AM and I wanted to post this before I go to sleep...

#ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #lgbtq #the last of us #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games au #ellie williams x you #imagines

[spoopydooblr]

Demons | Chapter 1

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Supe!OC

Summary: Over a year ago, Lilith Murphy escaped the experiments and torture of the Sage Grove Center. After laying low and stripping at Super Girlz, she’s found by Billy and The Boys.

Warnings: descriptions of sex work, sexual violence, sexual themes, mental illness, eventual smut (!)

AN: omggggggggg so anyways….here’s ch 1! get excited y’all!!! please do let me know what you think! comments and likes keep me writing lol

Lilith Murphy was running late. So late that her boss at Super Girlz even noticed.

“You’re on in ten, Murph.” He grumbled, barely looking up at her as she entered the back office.

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” She breathed, pushing past him. They both knew it would definitely happen again.

Her manager grunted in response, staring down at his nude magazine.

Lili made her way to the dressing room, smiling curtly to the other girls as she made her way to a chair. She wasn’t really close with any of them—Lili preferred to stay on the outside. It was safest there.

The reflection in the mirror was a sore sight—her red hair was a mess and she still had last night’s makeup on. Smudges of black lined her eyes while leftover glitter stuck to her cheeks. She took a makeup wipe from her bag and wiped her face, preparing it for another night of heavy makeup and sparkles.

The routine was the same every night now. Lili was basically nocturnal at this point, her sleep schedule a mess and social life nonexistent. But she had to be there, it was the only way to survive after escaping Sage Grove.

It was hard for Lili to believe it had been over a year since the facility got broken into by some randos. She had been stuck there for years, enduring endless pain and torture because of the abilities she possessed.

Now wasn’t much different, though. The endless pain and torture didn’t stop, even now that she was free.

She was so used to pain she felt numb.

——————————

“Are you sure this is it?” Hughie asked as Billy pulled the car up to a dark alleyway.

“This the address Mallory gave me.” He grumbled, done with Hughie’s shit.

Hughie felt a shiver down his spine. They were in the middle of a bad neighborhood, about to walk down an alleyway.

“And you’re sure she’s here?”

“What I just tell ya? She’s here.”

Hughie gulped as Butcher led the way into the alley. Black clouds looked over the city. They reached a locked metal door, to which Billy banged on.

A disgruntled man swung the door open.

“Password?”

Hughie looked expectantly to Billy.

“Sixty-nine.” He said.

The man nodded and led them inside a dark room.

“The girls start in five.” He told them, pressing a button and opening another, more heavy door.

Inside, pink and purple lights filled the dark space. Supes were all over, sitting at the bar and on luxurious couches.

“What is this place?” Hughie whispered to Butcher.

“You never been to a supe club before, kid?”

He shook his head. Billy chuckled, looking around. “You ever been to a regular club?”

Hughie laughed nervously. “Um, no.”

“Well, maybe if yer lucky, one of these broads will give ya a wank.”

“I don’t know if I—“ Hughie started, hesitating when the lights started to go down.

“Stay close.” Billy said, walking towards a stage in the middle of the room. It was crowded, but they were able to find room towards the front.

“Butcher, I don’t know if we have time to watch the dancers—“

“Would ya fucking shut it, Hughie?”

“But where’s…uh…where is she?”

Billy didn’t have time to answer as music erupted from the speakers.

————————

“Are you ready?” A voice boomed from the stage. A twinky-looking EmCee had appeared.

The crowd erupted, the men almost feral for the girls that were about to come out.

“Introducing…the Super Girlz!”

The crowd once again went nuts, hooting and hollering.

Hughie looked at Billy, who kept his eyes on the stage, smirking. Work could sometimes have a little play, right?

The lights went off and everything was black. Hughie wondered if they had stumbled into the wrong place.

Pink lights flooded the stage as three girls stepped into view. They were all clad in lingerie, barely covering their asses. The men around them were practically frothing at the mouth.

Rap music started to play and the three girls began their routine, but something was missing. It was almost like they were waiting for someone. They shook their asses in a line, staring seductively into the crowd.

From the behind the stage curtain, a long, pink tongue appeared, snaking around the girls. The tongue licked one of the dancers on the cheek and she grinned.

A man next to Hughie hollered at the girls. It was all so, so weird. Who was the owner of this tongue?

Suddenly, the tongue snapped back into the curtain. The purple fabric was pushed to the side and a new girl appeared.

“Is that…” Hughie whispered.

Billy just smiled, keeping his eyes on the girl with the tongue. He had never seen her in person—just her mugshot in the file Mallory had given him. She was beautiful, of course, but he wasn’t expecting her to be that beautiful. And that body…

————————

Lili stepped out of the curtains, her heart audibly beating. All of the Supes around her could probably hear it.

It was so embarrassing to be nervous every show, but she couldn’t help it. One, she was on the run, and two, it was scary to be naked in front of randos.

Her outfit tonight was an all black bikini, contrasting her fellow dancers’ pink sets. The bottoms were definitely too small and the top barely covered her nipples, but Lili didn’t mind. Less clothes was equal to more tips.

The men in front of the stage cheered for her, sticking out their tongues. It was something her regulars did, thinking she would appreciate the solidarity. She didn’t.

Lili started her routine, dancing along with the other girls and showing off her twisty tongue. She had told her boss that elastic tongue was her only ability, which he was fine with. The other girls barely had powers in the first place. If only they knew who she really was.

Each girl took their turn doing a small solo for the men, grabby hands pushing dollars into their underwear.

Lili stretched her tongue in her mouth, moving her hips to the beat.

When it was her turn, she let her tongue fly, the pink thing seemingly having a mind of its own. The men yelled, begging for it to touch them. She smirked, letting her tongue lick at her own thighs as she knelt, ass out.

Her hands went up to cup her tits, swinging her head around, letting her bright hair flow.

The crowd was getting crazier, as they usually did, but she didn’t mind. It was easy money.

Hands reached out to her, stuffing one’s into her bra. Lili smiled seductively, her tongue also grabbing dollars out of the air.

She was almost done with her routine when she saw a large, strong hand reaching with a twenty.

Lili looked up, mostly expecting some old, rich creep. Instead, her blood ran cold.

————————

Sage Grove, 1 year ago

Lili sat in a damp, cold room. They had just done one of their “sessions”, which was basically just legal torture. The doctors at Sage Grove had specific instructions for her, because of her background. She was apparently too powerful for V experiments. Instead, the doctors at the facility did the opposite, pumping her full of V Inhibitor to control her powers. She felt weak and tired all the time, her once great powers pouring out of her like blood.

She sat on the icy floor, wishing that tomorrow would be the day that the V finally killed her.

Suddenly, sirens wailed from outside. The door to her room opened, but no one was there. Carefully, she got up and walked to the doorway, eyes widening at what she saw.

Patients ran through the halls, their various powers surging. Lili smiled, she was finally free.

She sprinted down the hallway, unsure if her powers would even work. The V Inhibitor was still in her system, slowing her down.

The front of the facility was open, with patients causing chaos all over. She could’ve probably beat the shit out of anyone there, but that would make her more of a target than she already was.

————————

The minute the grass touched her feet, Lili felt like she was home already. Not that she had a home, but if she did. She pondered her next move, the idea of a home on her mind as she ran through the forest.

Then gunshots rang in her ears. Lili ran to the nearest tree, hiding behind it as she searched for the origin of the sound. Fifty feet away, one of her friends lay on the ground, bullet holes in his chest. She gasped, looking to the assailant. A man in a Hawaiian shirt held a smoking AK. Next to him was a blonde woman who kind of looked like Starlight.

No, no. That was Starlight.

What was she doing at Sage Grove with a mysterious gunman?

————————

Lili couldn’t forget a face.

Like literally. Her brain was so powerful she remembered most things.

The face of the man in front of her was the same as the gunman from Sage Grove. Sure, he was hot, but he murdered a kid. Why was he, and the twink next to him, at Super Girlz?

Lili took the money from him, shoving it in her bra and backing up.

He stared her down like she was some kind of prey.

Lili turned, her nerves almost ruining the other dancer’s routine. She had to go. Now.

The dance was almost over and sure, her boss would be mad she left, but Lili was in danger. Even if the guy didn’t want to kill her, he was surely being followed. The Seven had their ways.

Lili left the stage, her stilettos clicking on the floor as she ran to the dressing room.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” she mumbled, trying to grab her clothes and bag. She couldn’t be on the run in lingerie.

“Well, well, well, look what we have ‘ere.” A British accent perked her ears. Lili turned, heart dropping.

“Who are you?” She pushed. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Billy looked her up and down, eyes lingering a little too much on her tits.

“Just a little chat, right Hughie?” He motioned to the skinny man next to him.

“Uh, uh yeah.”

“Whatever you want from me, I don’t have it.”

Butcher took a step closer. “We don’t want nothing from ya, love. Just a little help, that’s all.”

“Help?”

Billy smirked. “I got a tip that a little lassie gave Homelander a run for his money few years ago.”

Fuck. Lili’s body went rigid. Her mouth dried. “Well then you got the wrong girl.”

Butcher laughed. He got even closer.

“Nah. I think we got ‘er right here.” He stared into her eyes. If she wasn’t on the run, she’d consider it a tender moment.

Billy paused. “Eh, Demoness?”

The nickname stung her like a fucking wasp.

“Don’t call me that.” She spat.

“Ah, there’s the spunk!” Billy turned to Hughie.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“M’ sorry love, how rude of me.” He stepped forward, again. “I’m Billy Butcher, and this here,” he clapped the twink on the shoulder. “This is Hughie Campbell.”

“Okay, and?” Lili looked past the men and to the door. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“Not hard when ya stripping around in ya knickers and using that tongue of yours.”

Rude, but true. Lili shivered, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. She was still practically naked. Again, Butcher’s gaze lingered a bit too long.

“You two enjoy the show?” She spit back, turning to grab her clothes.

“Eh, seen better.” Butcher replied. Hughie looked uncomfortable.

Lili scoffed. “Sure.” She rummaged through her bag, desperate to cover up. “Doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?”

Butcher was silent. Lili took a step towards him, almost as tall as him with her heels. “When The Seven finds me, which they will, no thanks to you, they will kill me.”

“That’s why we’re here first, love.”

Lili almost pressed her thighs together at the nickname. “And what makes you think I’ll come with you?”

Billy laughed. “You got anotha option?”

Lili thought for a second. She really didn’t have another option, but Billy and Hughie were still suspicious to her. How did they find out about her in the first place?

“I—“ she started, but before she could get the words out, the door to the dressing room burst open.

For the second time that night, Lili’s blood ran cold. In the doorway stood The Deep.

“Lilith!” He said, seemingly relieved to see her.

Frankly, Lili was too stunned to speak.

“Ah, how nice of you to join us!” Billy said, standing in front of Lili. She didn’t expect him to try and protect her. “Looks like you were searchin’ for the little lady here too.”

He looked past Billy. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

Lili rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kevin.”

Billy looked back to Lili, giving her a questioning look.

“N-no you’re not! Look at you, Lil!” He motioned to her bra and panties. “Why didn’t you find me when you escaped?”

Something inside of her snapped. After the years and years of torture, she was finally free. There was nothing holding her back from finally showing The Deep what she was made of. No Homelander watching over her or power inhibitors.

“You don’t fucking own me.” She spat.

“But, but I thought—“

“You fucking raped me, Kevin!”

Billy turned to Lili, then to The Deep.

Lili could hear his heartbeat pick up.

“The fuck ‘e talking about, Lili?”

She ignored him. Fight now, traumatic backstory later.

“I did not!” The Deep wined. “Why does everyone say that?”

“Maybe because yer a fuckin serial rapist bastard, ever think about tha?”

Lili felt her hands get hot. Oh no. She hadn’t felt her powers in a long time. The energy surged through her body, lighting her nerves up. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. There was no doubt The Deep could hear it, too.

“Lili, please.” He begged her. “Come back with me.”

“Never.”

“Please?” He pouted.

“The lady said no, Kevin.” Billy smirked, stepping towards The Deep.

They stared each other down. Lili didn’t know if Billy or Hughie were Supes. If they weren’t, it was going to be up to her to defeat The Deep. Her hands heated up more.

“Kevin.” She said, pushing past Billy. “You need to go.”

“Lilith—“

“Now!” She yelled, hands lighting on fire. Long, pointed fingernails grew from her fingers. Her eyelids flickered, revealing blood red irises, contrasting to her usual ocean blue.

Billy lunged back, but was unsurprised by her power. He must’ve read her file.

She spoke through new, pointed teeth, with a deeper, more ominous voice.

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to have to fucking kill you.” She couldn’t help the way she was feeling. After years and years of repressing her powers and taking the V Inhibitor, Demoness was back.

“Lili, baby—“ The Deep had only seen her powers once, ten years ago.

Lili opened her mouth, half expecting her tongue to slide out like a big joke. Instead, she breathed fire, flames shooting out of her mouth.

The Deep barely got out of the way before the fire scorched him. He fell to the ground.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

“Get out!” She yelled.

The Deep scrambled up, grabbing the door handle.

“And Kevin,” Lili smiled with her fangs. “Do tell Homelander I’m back,” she looked to Billy, then back to The Deep. “Tell him I’m coming for him.”

Billy smiled to Hughie, who looked terrified. Lili forgot he was even there.

“Y-you can’t defeat him. He’s too powerful.”

Lili laughed, entire body in flames now. “Well a girl can try, right?”

“Lili—“

“No. Fuck you. Get out!” She shot fire from her hands, burning his skin.

The Deep crawled away, leaving an ablaze Lili with Billy and Hughie.

“Fuck.” She whispered, the fire on her body dying out. It was exhausting being a supe. Lili felt her body relax, but the relief was too much and she faltered, barely able to catch herself.

“Haven’t used those powers in a minute, huh?” Butcher grabbed her shoulder.

Lili’s eyelids fluttered. She was not going to pass out in front of a sexy older man.

“Uhh—“

“Here.” Butcher shrugged off his long black coat. “Don’t want ya lookin like a whore when ya meet the boys.”

He said that, though she could tell he would rather have her in her underwear (or nothing at all).

The boys?

#billy butcher x oc #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys

[eddieswh0r]

Before He Cheats.

EddieXyou

Little one shot based on the song Before He Cheats.

Just imagine the song was released in '86🙈

Also may or may not have stolen a scene from another tv show 👀

Summary; You're late for one of Eddie's gigs at the hideout but things fall apart right before your eyes.

Warnings; Angst, heartbreak, cheating, public kissing, brief mentions of sex

8:17pm the alarm clock flashed red and if you didn't get a move on you were sure to miss the whole set. You'd promised Eddie you wouldn't be far behind him as he left in a huff without you to go meet his fellow Corroded Coffin band mates at the hideout, you told him you just needed to do your hair, which you both knew was a lie. You'd normally be ready by now and make your way over with Eddie but he had other plans, other plans being that he couldn't leave without making sure your legs were shaking and the contents of his balls were emptied inside you. After the tough couple of weeks you'd both had, you both needed that release. You'd not touched each other in weeks, which for Eddie, was unusual. His behavior had been all round strange, you'd barely seen each other and you felt un-wanted, but its not like you even bothered to make an effort with him, you didn't care, if anything you were glad. You'd been arguing a lot more and instead of going round to his after work you'd go straight home, you'd avoid his calls and go days without seeing him. You squeezed your thighs together and bit down on your still puffy bottom lip as you visualized what had happened moments before, shaking your head to rid the image you hopped out the shower, wrapping a towel around you, you made your way to the bedroom to start on your makeup straight away. You actually couldn't wait to see him, doing what he did best, making you proud. It had been a long time since you last saw him perform.

. . .

A smoky eye paired with a deep red lip was your finished look as your black hair fell to the middle of your back. A quick glance at the clock, 9:21pm "Fuck. Where the fuck is my purse" you muttered running round the trailer while trying to pull on a knee length, heeled boot. Hanging over the clothes rail you caught the glisten of the shiny black faux crocodile skin strap in the light, you tugged it off and threw it over your shoulder, rushing to make your way out the door to your car, not before spinning on your heel and hitting your hip, with a yelp of pain, on the kitchen counter to grab your car keys, uttering curse words and slamming the trailer door you jumped in your car. Shoving the key in the ignition you glanced in the mirror to check the path was clear, rolling your eyes you snatched out the roller you'd left in your bangs. You shifted the gear into reverse and then forwards and put your foot down speeding off with a screeching wheel spin, kicking up dust from the gravel under the tyres. Unbeknownst to you Eddie was trying to call you only to receive a dial tone, you'd accidently knocked the phone off the hook as you'd slammed the door behind you.

A slam of the receiver and Eddie turned to his band mates "Fuck it, she's not coming boys. I'm not waiting any longer." He picked up his guitar and went out on stage.

9:39pm. It was only 10 minutes to the hideout but you'd been stuck behind the slowest old lady going 25mph, you'd beeped, tried to over take and even driven right up her ass, but eventually gave up when she didn't take the hint. "He's gonna be so pissed with me" you sighed gripping the steering wheel, turning your knuckles white. "Ten fuckin' minutes i told him, 'oh i wont be far behind you babe'" you mimicked your own words in a silly voice.

10:02pm. Slamming the car door behind you, you hitched your purse onto your shoulder while calling the old lady every name under the sun. You heard no band playing as you got closer to the door, just the faint sounds of whatever was playing on the jukebox, your heart sank, you'd missed his set and man was he gonna be upset. They only play half an hour and you couldn't even manage to fucking make it. By this point you knew Eddie thought you just weren't gonna turn up, you knew him too well. Or so you thought.

As you slid in through the door, you made your way over to a dim lit corner and you took a seat. Looking towards the stage you could see Jeff struggling to take an amp through the back with a disgruntled look on his face. Where was Eddie? that's his amp. A loud crash made you jump and avert your gaze, now over to Gareth who was flailing his arms in the air, shooting angry glances ahead of him. Boy, if looks could kill. Part of his drum set scattered between the floor and the entry to out the back. He looked pissed. Your brow furrowed as you slowly moved your eyes across the room. A bleached -blonde girl was bent over the pool table, cue in hand while giggling and pushing her ass out. "Jesus, what a tramp" mid roll of your eyes you caught sight of the person behind her. Bent over her, face in the crook of her neck, very clearly pressing his crotch into her fucking ass, showing her how to shoot a combo. Your eyes slowly scanned him, from head to toe. Brown curls that fell to his shoulders, plump lips, a dirty smirk, a necklace with a plectrum attached. Tears pricked your eyes, a hand covered your open mouth, you didn't want to carry on looking but it was like a car crash, you couldn't turn away. A denim battle vest with the sleeves cut away, a motorhead patch, a w.a.s.p pin. You're eyes made their way to his face, What felt like barbed wire gripped your throat, you could see it, right there in his eyes. The lust. The same lust that you knew, come to think of it, that look of lust wasn't even there not 3 hours before when you were underneath him, moaning his name. "Eddieeee, you're a tease" loud giggles knocked you from your train of thought as you saw him, right there in front of you, their position had changed, although still pressed against a pool table, she was now facing him as he nibbled on her earlobe. Your heart ached at the sight. Never would you think Eddie would do something like this, never in a million years.

You'd snuck round to the side of the bar out of their view, sat on a barstool, you'd thrown back almost three quarters of a bottle of Whiskey and the anger built up inside. You watched them as the night went on, every little thing they did, how he bought her drink after drink, obviously something with a low percentage and fruity as she cant handle shooting whiskey, she'd previously sang some white trash version of something on the karaoke. "I'm s-sooo drunk Eddie" she giggled, hiccupping, rubbing her hands over his chest and down to his waist, up and down his torso, the same torso that was not long sweating on top of you earlier that night. "I know sweetheart" a shit eating grin across his face as his hands explore her ass and his lips crashed down onto hers. Sweetheart? No. Please, he didn't just fucking say your pet name to that girl right before he kissed her. Your fists bunched up at the side of you as the tears fell thick and fast down your cheeks, you stood up knocking the stool over and you held onto the bar for support. Stumbling outside you rummaged in your purse and grabbed your keys, making way over to your car you caught a glance of his van, the left corner of your mouth turned up into a smirk as you ran towards his van.

The screeching noise from the keys dragging deeply over the sides of his van were unbearable, it was a clapped out banger anyway, this only made it look better. You knew he always left it unlocked when at the hideout so they could either pack up quickly or so he could come to his van to smoke a quick j. You threw the doors open and picked up what you knew he kept in there. “It’s just for emergencies baby, just in case a deal goes wrong or, or we need back up” his words echoed in your mind. Two smashes later and you’d completely busted his headlights. “Hm this baseball bat DID come in handy” you laughed to yourself as you took a big swing to his drivers side window, climbing inside you took a pocket knife hidden inside his glovebox “y/n” you carved into each of his seats, laughing manically while the tears still fell fast, cheeks stained with mascara. You sat for a moment, a wave of guilt washing over you. Fuck. All you wanted most was his arms around you , telling you everything was okay, that he loved his sweetheart so much. Faint laughter soon stopped that thought and through the wing mirror you saw them, making their way over to his van, his arms draped over her as he followed behind still nuzzling her neck. You swiftly kicked the dented door open with some force and jumped down, leaning against the door you waited.

"Eddie, baby. When are you gonna tell her? You said you would and that was weeks ago" her whiney voice made your hairs stand up on end, there's that barbed wire feeling around your throat again, your eyes narrowed and before you knew it, you'd made your way around the van, four hissing tyres quickly releasing the air that was once held in them. "Hey!! what the fuck you doing? hey!! you!!" The hissing sound drew Eddies attention quickly as he started jogging over. "I'm fucking talking to you asshole, that's my fuc-." Eddies eyes widened as he recognized your face as you slowly rose up from beside the tyre. His whole demeanor changed from flirty, happy Eddie to kicked puppy Eddie.

"Y/n.. sweetheart, wh-what are you doing? You know that's my van right baby?" as Eddie took a step towards you, you moved back. "Edsss, what is going on, baby i wanna go HOME" the shrillness of her voice was intolerable. "Yeah, 'Eds'. What IS going on.." you folded your arms across your chest stepping out into the light. "Eds, who is this? Tell her to beat it" she shrilled, with a roll of your eyes and a scoff leaving your mouth, you moved a few steps forward, standing in front of her, you could see her bright pink lipstick faded, her hair clearly not a natural blonde and her blue eyeshadow was smeared. "Oh, me? Who am i? No honey, that's not the question you wanna be asking" I was his girlfriend. As you circled her, eyeing her up and down, Eddie watched closely, eyes wide. "The question you should be asking is, why have i wasted my entire night watching a cheap two bit whore and someone who was my boyfriend all over each other the entire night, playing fucking tonsil tennis?" you glared at Eddie with narrow eyes as he looked down at the floor. Coward. A cackling laugh brought you from your stare "Listen i don't know what imaginary world you live in darlin', but me and Eds have been together for a few weeks now" she finished with a toss of her hair and a stupid smirk. Everything was slowly coming together, it was her. She was the reason for his behavior. Your heart felt like it'd been taken out and stamped on. "...So if you don't mind, honey. Me and Eds are going home" your hand gripped the pocketknife still within your grip, knuckles turning white at the pressure. The most deranged laugh pulled itself from within your throat "A few weeks? Try 6 fuckin' years SWEETHEART." Your hand which held the pocketknife slowly lifted itself up to her face like it had mind of it's own, the girl stepped backward but you followed forward. "Edsss g-get this psycho away from meeee" the shrieks echoed the Hideouts parking lot and with a lunge forward, still holding up the pocketknife you shouted "BOO!" you couldn't hold the laughter in as she ran away screaming. You threw the knife through the smashed window as you just stood there, "Look Y/n.. I- I wanted to tell you, i thought i should, I really was going to, and then Steve convinced me not too" you just blinked at him, in shock most of all. That fucking asshole Steve, you wanted to kill him. "Do you realise none of this would've happened if over these past few weeks i didn't think that you didn't wanna be with me?"

"Alright, lets say i met someone else and, and you found out in a bar where you were running late and you got there to find me practically fucking on a pool table and THEN Eddie, you find out I've been fucking him for weeks, no. actually. not just fucking but we're together, in love with each other, fucking every day and every night, holding each other i-in bed, cuddling, would you be able to forgive me?" a choked sob escaped your lips as you imagined Eddie doing all that with her.

"Yes. I would"

"You'd have been okay with me being with another man? Kissing him, been naked with him, made love to him?"

"Yes"

"If you knew our hot, sweaty, tangled bodies..."

"LA LA LA LAAAA" Eddie cut you off by covering his ears and shouting, "Okay! Okay!! yeah, i would have been devastated but, i- i would still want to be with you, because i mean, its you. Its always been you, since kindergarten, always you"

You had found yourself sitting on the floor, back leaning on his dented van, it had been silent for over fifteen minutes now, you had no words after what he said, nothing. He sat perched on his drivers seat facing outwards and looking down at you the whole time, your head tucked down into your knees and your arms cradling around them.

"What, you're not even talking to me now?" Eddie jumped down and sat cross legged beside you, facing you, "I-I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry. I was out of my mind, I thought I'd lost you. I didn't know what to do. C'mon! C'mon, how insane must i have been to do something like this? huh? I-I don't cheat right? I-, that's not me, I'm not Steve. Y'know, Y'know what? I'm- I'm not the one who pushed me away, okay? You're the one who bailed on us, you're the one who ran when things got a little tough."

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it Eddie, That's absolute straight bullSHIT"

"Okay, well here we are. Now we're in a tough spot again y/n. What do you wanna do? How do you wanna handle it? Huh? Do you wanna fight for us? Or-Or, Do you wanna bail? Look, I.." Eddies eyes filled with tears "..I did a terrible, stupid, stupid thing. Okay? And I'm sorry, i wish i could take it back but i cant, i just cant see us throwing away something we know is so damn good. Y/n, i love you so much." Eddie leans forward and kisses your shoulder, moving up to kiss the side of your face and finally pressing his lips to yours.

"No Eddie!!" you stand up, moving away from him. "Don't! You cant just kiss me and think you're gonna make it all go away, okay? It doesn't work like that. It doesn't just make it better. Okay?" you sigh "I think i should go" your voice soft and small. Eddie stands and moves in front of you.

"Look, look. There's got to be a way we can work past this? okay?" Eddie takes hold of your arm gently, "I cant imagine my life without you.." The both of you start to cry, looking deep into each others eyes "..Without- Without these arms, and your face, and this heart. Your good heart Y/n." Suddenly Eddie drops to his knees and hugs you tightly around your waist. "..And.. And.." He sniffles.

"No, I cant. you're a totally different person to me now. I used to think of you as somebody that would never, ever hurt me, ever. God. and now i just cant stop picturing you with her. I cant." Eddie slowly stands up backing away "..It doesn't matter what you say or what you do Eddie, its just changed everything, forever." Tears are falling thick and fast down both your cheeks.

Eddie shakes his head, placing his hand on your cheek "Yeah, but this cant be it?" His voice cracks and hurt pangs through your chest.

"Then how come it is?"

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

likes/rb/comments are appreciated 💜

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x y/n #eddie my beloved #munson #eddie fluff #eddie angst #heartbreak

[candiedspit]

Gorilla Mask

As Nina does my makeup–swivels the contour and punches the blush onto my cheeks, a star, she says, I’m gonna make you a star, don’t you worry baby you’ll knock ‘em dead, you see–I smoke a cigarette and check the time. I’ve got half an hour before the curtains split apart like the legs of a wonderful, beautiful slut. I imagine the audience packed into velvet seats, dressed in cocktail dresses and the suit he plans to be buried in. A Tuesday evening. While my manager insisted on Friday night, I insisted on the opposite. When is the best time to be transported? When you least expect it. After an eight-hour shift at some metal box downtown, moving papers and pushing phone calls. I know my people. I know what they need. 

Nervous? Nina asks, meeting my gaze in the vanity. You’re quiet. 

I shake my head. 

I fuck up, I go home, I say. And that’s the end of it. 

This is my first show in twenty three years. Last time I was on a stage, I was a young golden cat that people rubbed for luck. I could sing God to sleep. I feared nothing and wanted everything. Once, I kissed a girl for the first time twice. 

But that’s the hard part, right? Nina asks. Going home?

I laugh a dry laugh. 

That is true. That is always true. 

At the height of what you could call my career–that never ending totem pole, that white flash of light in which I saw nothing but mercury and moon shrapnel, I wrapped my limo around a city block. And that began the descent into capsules and deadbeat girlfriends. I broke my neck in the accident. Then, the pain pills began to taste like dust. And I needed something stronger to tether myself to the earth. 

It was always a good day when I was high. I could spend seven hours staring at the ceiling and it would feel as though I’d gone on Space Mountain a billion times. I had a sitting heart rate of one hundred and twenty three. I still did shows though they were more like human zoo exhibits. The public came to watch me die. I slurred through old gospels. I fainted during an encore. Once, I gave up. I sat on the stage unmoving and someone had to come remove me. After I went to rehab for the first time, I stopped doing shows. It was only supposed to be a year off. But I couldn’t stop going back. I got into all sorts of things. I huffed paint to watch the wall turn blue. I did coke off of someone’s wedding ring during the wedding recital. I chased some kids down the block for ten dollars. 

Elaine left. And I moved to Memphis. I sat on the back porch smoking heroin, noticing the light ooze through the leaves and feeling every breath in my chest. And I tried again. And tried three more times. I went to a rehab in California where they served lobster rolls and where you had to soak in a hot tub for forty five minutes each evening. I went to a rehab in New York where you could see the skyline pressed against the dark coils of night and the nurses wore short skirts. I went to a rehab in Paris where I beat a lawyer at connect four three times in a row and couldn’t figure out the shower head. Then, I overdosed in South Dakota while visiting some cousins; thin, bare chested men who shoot pistols with one eye closed and drink moonshine for lunch. I died for an hour; saw nothing but a few abstract, pink lines. The rehab I was sent to there was the one that did it. Nothing glamorous. A cold turkey sandwich at noon. Librium in the mornings. After detox, you’re on your own. Gotta change the sheets. Gotta clean the bathrooms. Gotta set the tables. No television after nine. No phone calls in the morning. I was already old by then. And nobody knew my name anymore. What the hell is following the rules for a while? I called my mother halfway through my stay there, after a lunch of fried chicken with plenty of nerve and gallons of black tea. I told her where I was, and what happened. How I couldn’t apologize. 

Are you sorry? She asked. 

I could see her standing in the kitchen, backed into a slant of light, arms crossed. 

If you’re sorry, you won’t do it again. When you get out, you’ll know. So, we’ll see. 

Mama, I can’t do it again.

We’ll see, she said.

And hung up. I knew she was right. I had to be good. It wasn’t enough to want to be good. I had to be out there, doing good in the daylight. When I got out, I didn’t go back to the cousins. I went to Memphis and started going to meetings and church. I didn’t know what to believe but it needed to be huge, crucial. A giant cock to rub. A pleasure to be had. I read scripture on nights I couldn’t sleep. After months of this safety walk, the songs came. I was with my sister Diana; a spoiled eggnog of a girl, ten years younger than I am but we’re wired in the same ways. I can read her mind. I’d know her heart from look alone. It was summertime and we were at the fair together. It was the first time since getting out that I felt safe to be among the others, the extraterrestrials made of crazy glue and fireworks. 

And we were on the Ferris wheel, a thousand feet above the ground, everybody like throngs of specks of dirt below us, the stars as close as they’d ever been. I got a melody in my head like a buzzing gnat. And started singing. Diana stared as I sang, the words mush but the melody there. And we celebrated when I quieted down. I didn’t think I’d ever write another song again. 

But there it was–the massive, throbbing thing to believe in.

#my poetry #new story!!!! #not super happy w ending but i can always fix it

[ladykailitha]

I am frustrated with technology at the moment. Windows 11 decided that it was going to save my stories in two places. And with two stories (I almost put twice, it was way more than twice) it only showed the versions that were from before I got my new laptop.

So like with Royal Pain's epilogue, the version I sent @duraffinity for Exit Eddie Pursued By a Steve was the version I posted here and not my edited copy (I at least try to do a SPaG read before I send it to her so it's not too bad).

So I'm struggling with leaving it as is on AO3 or trying to send the version I had worked on for her to get the right on edited and posted on AO3.

Version 2.0 in all its 4882 word glory under the cut:

Eddie had been on his way to the choir room for his weekly “meeting” of the Hellfire Club. They had to have in there this week due to the unfortunate fact that the school musical was currently being preformed and they actually needed the drama room closet.

Suddenly a gaggle of people came tearing out of the stage in a hurry. The last of which was someone in a large red wig and bright yellow dress. But Eddie knew those hazel eyes anywhere.

He let out a low whistle. “Looking gorgeous there, Harrington.”

Steve skidded to a stop in his kitten heels and turned to see who had cat-called him.

“Yeah?” Steve said to him under half-shut eyes. “You like what you see, Munson?”

Eddie gave an appraising glance up and down. “I do indeed.”

“Too bad I have to change out of it,” Steve teased.

Eddie shook his head sadly. “Now, why would you want to go and do a thing like that?”

Steve laughed. “Because I’m in the next scene, and I ain’t wearing this!”

Eddie laughed, too. “Damn shame.”

Steve looked around and then hurried over to him. “If you like it that much, meet me after the play.”

He winked and then gathered up his skirt and ran for the changing room.

Eddie was still standing there when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian came up behind him.

“Who was the broad?” Brian asked.

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth. “That was no broad, gentlemen. That was King Steve in a ballgown.”

“Wait, what?” Jeff asked, his face screwed up in confusion. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie hummed. “And I’m pretty sure he just asked me backstage after the play for a little action.”

All three other boys turned to him in shock.

“Ain’t no way,” Gareth hissed. “It’s probably some prank to have the basketball team jump you or something.”

Eddie grinned. “Come on, boys. We’ve got dragons to slay before they kick us out of the choir room, too.”

They all followed him to the choir room, a little confused on what just happened.

*

Steve waited nervously after getting one of the band and orchestra geeks to help him back into the dress. The wig and makeup were gone, as were the shoes. Those things pinched.

His dress swished back and forth as he paced wringing his hands.

“Oh.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and turned to the open door. Eddie stood there with an expression that Steve couldn’t quite make out.

“I have to know before we do this,” he rambled. “Are you wanting to do this because you thought I was beautiful as a girl in a dress? Or because you thought I looked beautiful in the dress?”

Eddie paused for a moment. “That is a very important distinction and one you are right in asking, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed deeply.

Eddie crowded his space and lifted his chin gently, “You look beautiful, Stevie.”

He gasped and Eddie dived on in, pressing their lips together. Instantly, Steve’s tongue tangled with his.

Eddie pulled away reluctantly. “We are definitely doing this.”

Steve nodded. “Just try not to get anything on the dress itself, otherwise I’ll be murdered by the drama teacher.”

Eddie chuckled darkly. “You’ve got it, babe.”

*

When Eddie walked in the room, Steve appeared coy. Shy even. And then when Steve asked why he was interested in fucking him in that dress, he suddenly got it.

“Anyone ever take care of you, Stevie?” he murmured, slowly pulling up the folds of the dress to get at those delicious thighs.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve only had sex with girls. They tend to expect you to do all the work.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Steve threw his head back and moaned as Eddie caressed the sides of his thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie purred, mouthing along the expanse of Steve’s neck, “you sound so good.”

He pushed down the pantaloons Steve was wearing and tucked the dress behind his beautiful cock and sank to his knees.

Steve’s hands immediately buried into Eddie’s hair, pulling him all the way onto his cock.

Eddie lifted one of Steve’s legs and tucked it over his shoulder. He took the spit and slick from his blowjob and coated his fingers. He pressed one finger into Steve and the boy let out the most delicious sounds.

Eddie wished he could swallow them up, but he would have to settle for swallowing Steve down entirely. He continued to open Steve up and suck him off. Suddenly Steve was coming in ribbons down Eddie’s throat.

Eddie stood up and kissed Steve dirtily, mouth still slick with his cum.

Eddie gathered up the skirt of the dress and pressed into to Steve’s hands. “Hold on tight to that, darling. We don’t want to get anything on it, right?”

Steve nodded. He let out a low whine, taking in as much of Eddie as he could.

Eddie lined himself up and slowly pierced Steve’s ass.

“Eddie!” he cried. “Oh god!”

Eddie took that as encouragement and slid all the way to the hilt.

Steve wanted to grip the back of Eddie’s shirt and fist his hair, but his hands were occupied by the skirt of his dress. He held on tight, barely holding on as Eddie fucked him wildly.

Soon Eddie was coming into Steve, in rough, hopeless waves.

Steve let out a breathless sigh. “God, oh fuck.” He moved to bring his hands down but Eddie stopped him.

“We need to get you out of this dress first, darlin’,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, “then you can lower your arms, all right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie giggled at how far gone Steve was. He removed the dress and hung everything up their proper places, while Steve panted for air, pressed against the crates Eddie fucked him against.

Once Steve was able to catch his breath, he asked, “How did you know where everything went?”

Eddie turned back to him with a grin. “This is where my club meets for D&D. The Hellfire Club, ever heard of it?”

Steve nodded. “I’ve got these kids I babysit that love that game. It’s all they’ve been talking about when it comes to picking out classes and clubs for next year.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow and sat down to watch Steve clean up himself and get dressed. He wondered where it was all going to go from there. Would Steve throw him out? Punch him? Mock him?

“I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Steve muttered darkly as he ran his hand through his hair. He stood there in sweatpants and ratty old yellow sweater, looking every bit as beautiful as he had in the dress.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, big boy? How’s that?”

“I don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.”

Eddie cackled. “Right back ‘atcha, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed and walked over to stand between Eddie’s legs. “We’ve had dessert, what would you say to a late dinner?”

Eddie smiled up at him and then pulled him down for a kiss. “Sounds perfect, Stevie.”

*

“I call bullshit,” Brian said the next morning at their lockers when Eddie told them. “There is no way you sucked Harrington’s dick.”

“Did a slight more than that, Bri,” Eddie crowed.

Jeff frowned. “Prove it.” He jutted his chin across the hall to where Steve was at his locker getting stuff out for the next class. “There’s ‘your boy’ as you say. Go get him.”

“And even if it is true,” Gareth growled. “There is no way he’d associate with you in the middle of the whole fucking school. He’s going to break your heart and we’ll have to pick up the pieces.”

“Watch and learn, boys,” Eddie said flippantly.

He strutted across the hall to Steve and placed his hand on the locker next to him by his head.

Steve turned around, closing his locker. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”

Eddie smirked. “Morning, princess.”

Steve leaned against the lockers and laughed. “I’m the ugly step-sister, remember. Not the princess.”

“You were as pretty as one last night,” Eddie teased.

Steve grinned and put his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Hmm...that kind of talk is what got us in that position in the first place.”

Eddie grinned right back, putting his hands on Steve’s waist. “You saying flattering works on you, sweetheart?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’m saying it doesn’t hurt.”

He pressed his lips to Eddie’s and they both melted into the kiss.

“Am I going to see you at lunch?” Eddie asked pulling away and pressing their foreheads together.

Steve shook his head. “You have first lunch and I have second.”

“So cruel,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing a patch of bare skin between Steve’s jeans and where his sweater had risen up because of his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I’ll see you after school, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “It’ll be torment until I see you again.”

“For me, too,” Steve breathed.

And then Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve’s sides, tickling him.

“Eddie!” Steve protested, laughing.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed the smile off his face. “Later, Princess.”

“Later, Eds.”

Eddie turned and walked away.

“Eddie!” Steve called out. “Catch!”

Eddie managed to catch whatever it was on sheer instinct. He looked at it to see that it was Steve’s varsity basketball ring.

“Hold on to that for me,” he said with a smile. “It’s special to me.”

Eddie saluted and practically skipped back to his friends.

Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly.

*

“Holy fuck,” Jeff said. “He laughed at an Eddie-ism and not mockingly either.”

“His varsity ring,” Gareth replied numbly. “He gave Eddie his varsity ring.”

“That possessive draping his arms over Eddie’s shoulders...” Brian muttered.

Eddie just chewed happily on his pretzels as he watched his friends repeat all the things that Steve and he had done that morning.

“So...no broken hearts this fine Friday morning, is there?” he said into a brief lull in their retelling.

All three heads snapped his direction.

“How the hell did you manage to convince Steve Harrington to be your boyfriend?” Jeff asked.

“I really don’t think you want the play by play,” Eddie teased.

They all made gagging sounds.

Suddenly their table darkened. They stopped talking and they looked up.

There, standing above them were Tommy H, Carol, and about half the basketball team all glaring at Eddie.

“And how I can I help you gentlemen and lady today?” he asked, grinning around chewing on a pretzel.

“What did you do to Steve?” Tommy asked. “What spell did you use, man?”

Gareth snorted.

“This is serious!” Carol shrieked. “You tell your friend to undo whatever it was that he used to curse Steve.”

“Hon,” Jeff said with a raised eyebrow, “if Eddie could do magic don’t you think he would have magicked his way through school and not had to do a second time at being a senior?”

They all kind of looked at each other a moment before the muttering started.

Eddie just shook his head. “Or maybe, just maybe Steve needed someone to take care of him the way he takes care of everyone else.”

His flicked around the room and he could see Nancy and Jonathan inching closer to hear him.

“Because,” he continued a little louder, “if you lot had given as much of damn about him as he did about you, maybe I wouldn’t have had to adopt him like have all my other little sheep. So fuck off. And maybe ask Steve why he abandoned you lot.”

He waved them off and went back to eating his lunch.

*

Steve was showering after gym and could feel the eyes on him. He looked up to see that half of the boys showering were looking at him and the other half was avoiding his eye.

“Did theater turn you gay?” one of the guys asked.

Steve had give it to the kid for actually having the balls to say something. He sighed and turned off the water. “I like dicks and hard chests, sure. I also like soft breasts and wet cunts. It’s not always an either or thing.”

Some of the guys started covering their junks and he laughed.

“Oh god, I don’t care about your dicks, for fuck’s sake,” he said rolling his eyes. He turned the water back on. “I’ve never looked at any of your scaly dicks. I know how fast you shower. I don’t need to look at your dick to know you didn’t wash it.”

Some of them ducked their heads as they knew he was talking about them.

“And don’t think for a second that I’m the only queer in this shower room either,” he continued. “You lot aren’t as slick as you think you are. Plus, what would I want with any of your dicks? Have you seen Munson’s? Take it from someone who has, it’s far superior to you lot.”

Steve finished up rinsing his hair and got dressed. The second he was out the door, the locker room erupted in a cacophony of gossip. He just shook his head.

*

Steve walked out to the parking lot where Eddie was waiting for him. He strolled right up to where his boyfriend was lounging against the driver’s side door of his van.

“Hey, honey,” Eddie greeted with a big smile. “Miss me?”

“Always.” Steve kissed him soundly.

Eddie pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, hands buried into Steve’s gorgeous locks.

When they finally broke apart, Eddie licked his lips. “Damn, Stevie, if you kiss all the girls like that it’s no wonder they’re after you all the time.”

Steve draped his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Only you, sunshine.”

Eddie tucked his hands into Steve’s back pockets. “You got the play again tonight?”

Steve hummed. “And tomorrow, too.”

Eddie chewed his bottom lip. “I want you to meet my Uncle Wayne. Is it too soon?”

Steve shook his head. “I’d love to meet your uncle, baby. You just don’t want to meet my parents.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “You won’t get into trouble by dating me so openly, will you?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. But it wouldn’t matter if I did. I’d pick you over those jackasses that haven’t been around much since I turned sixteen.”

Eddie hummed. “Okay, baby. I just want you safe.”

Steve kissed him. “Thanks for that. But I’ll be fine.”

“So I’m coming to the play tonight,” Eddie said, “all proper, with a ticket and everything.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You hoping for a repeat performance after last night, Eds?”

“And if I was?” he growled in Steve’s ear.

Steve giggled. “I have an outfit that I’m actually wearing at the end of the play that I think you’ll enjoy a little more than the ballgown, baby.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared in want. “Yeah, honey, we can do that.”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Can’t wait.”

“What time do you have to be here tomorrow for the play?”

“About three o’clock, why?” Steve asked, rubbing his nose along Eddie’s.

“My uncle has work at two,” Eddie explained, “so why don’t you come over tomorrow for lunch and meet him.”

Steve kissed him fiercely. “Okay, sunshine. I’ll bring pizza, is noon okay?”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll see you then, princess.”

They finally broke apart and Steve walked back the school.

Jeff shook his head and clacked his tongue. “Dude that was the most disgusting display of affection I’ve ever seen. And you’ve met my parents.”

Eddie cackled. “Just wait boys, I have feeling we’re about to get so much worse.”

*

Eddie sat in the back of the school auditorium and grinned when Steve came out in a yellow robe over just a corset and pantaloons with stockings and kitten-heeled shoes for the scene with Cinderella trying on the glass slipper.

Eddie ran his tongue over his lips slowly. Steve had been right. The ballgown had been a treat, but this? This was the fucking main course.

He waited until all the other guys had filed out of the drama room to enter. He nearly growled when he saw Steve draped against the sofa dressed as he was in the play minus the silk robe. Which was fair. That was a lot harder to keep out of the way.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” Steve murmured. He rand his hands down the corset and Eddie growled. And then pounced.

Sex that time was different. Now that they both knew that they were on the same page, it was both more tender and a lot raunchier.

When they were getting dressed, Steve hummed.

“You know,” he said. “you really are good at making sure there isn’t anything on the clothes.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “That’s because if you’re sneaking around and don’t want people to know, you learn real quick the art of not letting it show on the outside.”

Steve stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. He lifted his chin and gave him a deep kiss. “You’ll never have to worry about that unless you want to. Like tonight and last night. This is just a bit of fun, but...” he held up Eddie’s right hand that held Steve’s varsity ring, “this is a full on declaration, okay? I won’t ever hide that I’m yours.”

Eddie nodded. “You’ve got it, sweetheart.”

“Good,” Steve murmured. “I’m starving and Benny’s has pancakes on special on Fridays.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, baby, it’ll be my treat.”

*

The next morning Wayne found Eddie pacing the living room.

“What’s got you around the twist?” he finally asked after the hundredth sigh.

Eddie wrung his hands. “So you know how I don’t introduce you to the guys I sleep around with?”

Wayne snorted. “I figured they just liked leaping out of windows when I came home.”

Eddie giggled. “Well, this one wants to meet you.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip. “He’s really good to me, Uncle Wayne. And I mean, really good.”

Wayne hummed. “What do you mean?”

Eddie started pacing again. “It’s like every time I think, ‘oh this is it, this the part where he gets embarrassed by me’ he does something super sweet and cements that he’s with me for the long haul. It’s like he’s inside my head reading my insecurities and coming up with things that would allay those fears.”

He stopped in front of his uncle and handed him the ring.

“He gave this to you?” Wayne asked before really looking at it.

“In front a large crowd of people so that people wouldn’t say I stole it from him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

Eddie nodded, close to vibrating out of his skin. “But he wanted people to know he belonged to me and no one else.”

“It doesn’t look very expensive,” Wayne said with a chuckle.

“No,” Eddie agreed. “It’s a chintzy thing, but it’s important to him so...”

Wayne actually looked at the ring, like really looked at it. “Ed. This is a varsity basketball ring.”

Eddie nodded again. “That’s the other reason I’m nervous introducing you to him. We were both targets of jock bullies in school until we became untouchable through admittedly very different ways. You with auto body and me with metal.”

He sat down and then back up again. “And I won’t lie and say he wasn’t like that, but after getting a concussion he started to realize popularity wasn’t all it cracked up to be so he joined drama, ditched his asshole friends and–”

“Who are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Wayne interjected gently.

Eddie blushed. “He’s just so good, Uncle Wayne.”

“So why are you trying so hard to convince me?”

Eddie gulped and sat down on the sofa, hard.

“Because it’s Steve Harrington.”

Wayne stared at him for a moment and then moved to sit next to him on sofa. “We’ve talked about him before, what so different this time?”

“He wants to meet you for a start,” Eddie said furrowing his brow. “Like even the boys that were out when they were with me didn’t want to do that. He bitched out a bunch of boys in the locker room for ragging on me. And I didn’t hear that one from him by the way. I overheard a couple of guys from his gym class talking about it. When I asked it about it later, he brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It wasn’t a big deal to defend you against bullies?” Wayne asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

Wayne licked his lips slowly. “All right, let’s meet this boy of yours. When is he coming over?”

“Today at noon?” Eddie said with a grimace.

Wayne looked around at the newly tidied trailer and simply said. “Ah.”

“He’s bringing pizza for lunch,” Eddie said sheepishly, “if that helps.”

“Depends from where.”

Eddie pushed him playfully. “You are such a pizza snob, God!”

There was a knock on the door and Wayne looked at his watch. “Looks like your boy is a little early.”

Eddie blushed.

“I wonder if I can have him teach that trick to you,” he said rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

He got up to get the door and had his hand on the doorknob before Eddie came to his senses.

“Don’t you dare open that door, old man,” he said scrambling to the door. “I won’t have you to scare him off because of his pizza choices.”

Wayne laughed, but let Eddie open the door. On the other side was a grinning Steve.

“I hope Carlos’s Pizza is good enough,” he said holding up the two large boxes.

Wayne took the boxes from him and peeked into the top one. “You’ll do.”

He wandered off into the kitchen for plates.

Eddie grabbed Steve by the lapels of his stupid Members Only jacket and hauled him inside to kiss the daylights out him.

Steve yelped in surprise, but went willingly into his boyfriend’s arms.

“You brought pizza from the only Italian pizzeria in town,” Eddie breathed. “He is going to love you.”

Steve laughed. “I have an Italian grandmother and rich parents, we only have ever gotten pizza at Carlos’s.”

Wayne stopped short in the small area between the kitchen and the front room, pizza shoved in his mouth. He swallowed roughly.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Wayne said a little sheepishly. “Of course he brought good pizza.”

Steve couldn’t help feel like that had lost him points.

“I’ve set some plates out for you two,” Wayne said, jutting his thumb behind him.

Eddie and Steve went to kitchen. The plates didn’t match, but Steve couldn’t find it in him to care.

Eddie opened the top box and grimaced.

He went to pull out a slice, but Steve slid the bottom box out and opened it for him.

“Cheese?” Eddie asked looking into the new box. “You bought me a cheese pizza?”

Steve smiled. “Sure. You always pick off the pepperoni off your pizza when we had it at school.”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before snapping it shut to kiss Steve senseless.

“I didn’t know you noticed that,” he admitted shyly.

Steve laughed. “Dude, you used to throw the pieces into Tommy H’s hair.”

Eddie giggled. “Oops!”

They went out to the front room and Eddie sat on the sofa, and Steve sat on the floor between Eddie’s knees.

Wayne raised an eyebrow at Eddie’s meatless pizza, causing Eddie to blush.

“So Eddie tells me you’re dating now,” Wayne said after polishing off one of the slices he picked up for himself.

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, curling one hand around Eddie’s calf and rubbing it soothingly.

“You’re not worried about what’s gonna happen to two boys out in Bumfuck, Indiana?”

Steve looked up at Eddie and then back to Wayne. “Not really. I probably should. I know it’s dangerous. But I’m tired of hiding who I am to be palpable for other people.”

“You aren’t worried about what your parents are going to think?” Wayne pressed.

Steve shrugged. “They’d have to actually be home to do shit.”

Eddie and Wayne shared a glance over Steve’s head.

“What do you mean, baby?” Eddie asked softly.

“They started taking trips together when I turned sixteen,” he explained, picking at the crust of his pizza, tearing off little chunks. “The trips have gotten longer and longer the older I’ve gotten. Some days, I don’t think they remember they have a son.”

Wayne wanted to poke that statement a little bit more, but Steve was already shutting down.

“They will find out eventually,” Wayne said gently. “It’s not as though they aren’t completely disconnected from the Hawkins rumor mill.”

Again Steve rubbed Eddie’s calf, a move Eddie was starting sense was about Steve’s comfort and not his own.

“They didn’t come home when Billy Hargrove bashed my head in with a plate for stepping between him and a black fourteen year old kid for daring to hang out with his step-sister.”

The glance between Wayne and Eddie was far more concerned the last.

“Is that why you came to school after missing a couple of days with your face all black and blue?” Eddie asked softly, not sure he could say it louder. Not with Wayne nearby.

Steve nodded. “Quit the basketball team after that. That got my dad calling let me tell you. Hurt and in the hospital in the second major concussion in two years, fucking crickets. Quit the basketball team, on the phone screaming about wrecking my chances to get into a good college.”

“That’s more reason to be concerned, you realize?” Wayne asked.

Steve sighed. “Probably. But when I turned eighteen, I opened my own bank account and have been stashing away money to get out if I needed to.”

Eddie bristled at that. “You shouldn’t have to.”

Steve shrugged again. “I’ve been wanting to get out that house for a while now, and I have enough saved up to do it. Which probably why I outed myself, I guess. I knew I could walk away if I needed to.”

“So why Eddie?”

Steve blushed. He looked up at him with a dopey grin. “I’ve had a crush on him for years. Hell, my first major girlfriend was essentially fem!Eddie. Beautiful, dark curly hair, deep soulful eyes...” He ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Years?” Eddie asked. “Seriously?”

Steve stroked Eddie’s calf again and hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Ever since I started high school. You were so unapologetically yourself standing up to bullies, making sure the weirdos, freaks, and outcasts were taken care of. God, how I wished I could be one of your sheep. But I had to have the right friends, date the right people, take the right classes. So I watched you from afar.”

He looked up at Wayne. “Did he tell you how we got together?”

“Yup,” he said, sucking on his teeth.

“All of it?”

“Yup.”

Eddie laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart. I tell him everything.”

Steve shook his head. “That must be so nice.” He scratched his cheek. “When Eddie told me he was into me, that it wasn’t just about having sex, I wanted to make sure everyone knew how much I was into him.”

Eddie leaned down a kissed the top of his head. “That’s because you love loud, Stevie. And I wouldn’t have any other way.”

Steve kissed Eddie’s knee as a thank you.

“Ed said that you seemed to recognize the doubts in his head,” Wayne said, “and take steps to combat them before they took root.”

Steve blushed. “Oh, I didn’t even realize I was doing that. I just knew all the fears I had and what I would have liked my partner to do to allay them. And then did that.”

“You’re so sweet, babe.” Eddie ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and he leaned into the touch with a sigh.

Steve laid his head on Eddie’s knee, soaking up the comfort. Eddie kicked Steve’s thigh with his foot.

“Eat up, Stevie,” he murmured.

Steve straightened up and began to eat. The rest of the meal, descending into a comfortable silence.

They cleaned up and Steve let them keep the leftovers.

Steve said goodbye to Eddie and Wayne and him walked out to their vehicles together, Wayne for work and Steve to the final practice before the last performance.

Wayne patted his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Steve. And if you ever need a place to run to, run here.”

Steve blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, but nodded. As he got into his car and pulled away he shook his head fondly. In the space of two hours, he had found himself a home.

The last two days had really changed his life. He had someone who loved him for who he was and a place to run to if things got bad. The ugly step-sister didn’t need a prince to happy, all it took was one earnestly sincere metalhead and Steve would take that over Prince Charming anyway. Especially since the prince had been played by Tommy H.

#my writing #ladykailtiha writes #trouble with technology #editing #ao3

[abbatoirablaze]

Welcome To The Dollhouse, Fall From Grace

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: noncon/dubcon relationship, coercion, manipulation, unprotected sex, rough oral (M receiving)/rough sex, threats, purposefully talking down/mistreatment of women

“I’m just saying, Angel, you’re about to lose your room…” Bucky said gruffly as he looked at the young woman, “Hansen stopped paying for it after your little rendezvous with the cocky trust fund brat.”

“Ther-there’s got to be something that I can do,” she mumbled as she bit her lip, “h-have you tried my sister’s sponsor?  I’m sure I could talk to-“

“Kemp just picked up the tab on the girl who’s willing to sell her flesh to him,” he reminded Angel, “and I doubt that your sister’s cannibal is looking for more flesh to satisfy his appetites.”

Angel felt her stomach turn, “I-I can’t do shows on the floor, Bucky!”

“There is one guy who’s had an interest in you…” Bucky said slowly, “But from the way some of you girls talk…that might be worse than doing shows on the floor every night.”

“I-I’ll do anything…I just can’t lose my room!”

She regretted the words as the conversation echoed in her mind. 

The creepy assassin who used the children’s magician gimmick as a cover was possibly the cringiest man in the entire dollhouse. 

But he was the only one who had been jumping at the opportunity to be with her. 

Everyone knew that Lloyd Hansen, while extremely stubborn, and even more pissed off that Angel had slept with Drysdale, also knew that if he’d decided he suddenly wasn’t mad at her, and came back, then the new guy would have hell to pay. 

She was always going to be Lloyd’s naughty little angel. 

And every man knew that.

But Terry the terrific didn’t seem to care as he pounded into Angel from behind. 

Hell, she wouldn’t have cared either, had he not insisted on wearing his face paint.

He stopped her hands as she held the makeup remover wipe close, “don’t.”

“I-I just want to see you.”

“And I don’t want you to know my real identity!” he growled, gripping her wrists a little tighter, “and I’m the one paying for your lifestyle right now…so what I say goes…”

“Can-can you at least lose the cape?” The growl rose in his throat yet again and she felt nervous about having asked the question in the first place.  Her fingers relaxed and she dropped the makeup wipe to the ground, “w-what would you like me to do then?”

“I just had a job,” he admitted, “and right now…I need release.  So strip down and face the wall on your hands and knees.”

“You want to fuck me from behind!”

“Strip down and get on the bed facing the wall!” he repeated. 

Angel nodded as he let go of her, and she nervously reached for her robe.  When it fell away he groaned appreciatively.  One hand went down to his pants, while the other reached for her again, this time grabbing her by the base of her skull, his fingers tangling in her hair.  She whimpered as he pulled her forward into a searing kiss.

It wasn’t good.  He was practically trying to shove his tongue down her throat, and she could taste the chalkiness of his white stage makeup. 

She tried to ignore the pain from him pulling at her hair, by letting her hands slide up his chest and under his vest. 

Her stomach turned as she felt the movement against her thigh; a clear indicator that he’d reached into his dress pants and was stroking himself underneath the fabric. 

“I want you to suck my cock!” he growled as he pulled away from her. 

His hand came out of his pants and he reached towards her, stroking her cheek.  He smirked as his fingers danced over her lips, and she held back the bile in her throat as she could smell the distinct smell of sweat and his salty tinge of manhood on his hands.  When he removed his hand from her mouth she noticed the black lip stain that had obviously smeared to her face on his fingertips.

She could vaguely make out the tan skin that lay beneath the makeup as he pushed her head down, forcing her to her knees. 

They hit the floor with a heavy thud and he released her hair long enough to unzip his pants and push them and his briefs over his thighs. 

His cock sprang to life, hitting her chin before bobbing up and thudding against the vest.  He chuckled yet again and gripped the girthy length. 

Angel’s eyes watered. 

Everything about the situation felt wrong. 

Terry wasn’t Lloyd. 

He wasn’t her sarcastic, possessive, jealous lover who had showered her with sinful praises as he used her any way he wanted. 

The man in front of her was just some creepy magician with a fetish for makeup and a tendency not to shower from what she could sniff out. 

“Well!” he growled, his free hand reaching out to grip her by the hair once more.  He tapped his thick length against her cheek until he was almost slapping her with it, “I’m paying for you, Angel…suck my cock!”

Her mouth opened and she tried to turn her head, but Terry jerked it away from his cock.  She whimpered, but tried again.  This time he pulled her hair even harder. 

“Beg for it!” he demanded, slapping her with his cock even harder, “beg to suck my cock you greedy little slut!”

“Please…” she whimpered, the tears falling down her cheeks.  She didn’t want to beg for his cock, and if she could get through the night without doing so, she would.  Begging for it felt like she was truly cheating on Lloyd.

“BEG!”

“P-please, Terry!”

He slapped her again with his cock, this time, an imprint starting to form on her cheek, “AGAIN!”

“Pleas-“

He slapped his mushroom capped head against her cheek once more and chuckled, “I’ll show all those little whores what happens when they push me off until they can’t….”

And without further explanation he shoved his cock into her mouth.  The musky, sweaty taste made her stomach turn, and her eyes watered as he plunged his cock so far into her mouth that his head hit the back of her throat.

Her hands reached out, bracing and scratching his thighs, in an attempt to tell him that she couldn’t take it, but he didn’t care.  He kept up a pace, plunging in and out of her mouth, slamming into the back of her throat, until she was drooling and sobbing. 

His thighs were filled with scratches and blotchy from her nails digging into his flesh. 

“That’s right, you little slut…take it!”

“That’s right, you little slut,” he growled as he pulled on her hair until she was looking back at him awkwardly, “you take every fucking thing that I give you.”

Her mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Terry had fucked her throat raw, and she wasn’t able to do anything other than make a few worthless whimpers. 

“Bet your little boyfriend never fucked you so good you couldn’t speak, did he?” he hissed in her ear as his brutalizing pace continued, “you’ll never go back to him, you know.  I’ll keep you stuffed full of me and be your new sponsor.  Fuck you every time I have a job…maybe I’ll even get tired of visiting and buy your contract out…move you into a real nice place my ma owns…quiet little town.  Big fucking place…oh GOD!  Fill it with tons of little brats!”

Angel couldn’t answer as Terry reached his high, talking about his own sick fantasies. 

She felt sick as a warmth spread throughout her lower half, and he let go of her hair, collapsing onto her back.  She felt her stomach turn once again as she felt his cock spasming inside of her, ropes of himself filling her already stuffed cunt. 

Her sobs, though silent, felt like they echoed through her very soul as the quiet tears slid down her cheeks. 

She just wanted to be in Lloyd’s arms again.

#welcome to the dollhouse #magic of passion #terry the terrific #sebastian stan characters

[fizzarollitm]

.thinking about a proper loose fizzy timeline now that I've played him more and developed him Note: This is like 50% character study and build for me to better understand Fizz and how I want to interpret him. Everything is adaptable for the sake of threads or hc's!

tw; stalking

1-3: Born in Greed, he has very little memories of his bio-parents. Thinks they were low level in some mob but hard to know for sure. Never reached out (and likely don't even know/recognize Fizzy is their child once he gets famous) in his life.

3: A circus worker found him abandoned by the popcorn stand. While at first people thought it was a case of some couple losing their kid (not the first time nor the last) as announcements became more "Come get your fucking child", it got obvious no one was going to claim him. Cash saw money signs in adding another child (sweet, sweet unpaid labor) to the roster, and that was that. Cash got the name Fizzy from a random clown prop/sign (I just love the idea Fizzarolli is like HHverse of naming your kid Krusty)

5: First glimpse of Mammon; it was one of those blink and you miss it life altering moments: An ad on a TV in a shop window, a millisecond of Mammon performing at some mall before getting shoved out by security, him passing by on a float of money. He saw him and his whole brain flared to life and he saw his future ahead of him. He will be the greatest clown ever!

General childhood notes; Grew up in step with Barbie and Blitz following everything they ever do. He did any stunt they did because they didn't seem scared so why should he. He loved performing for them and making them laugh and that love spilled over into Clowning very easily. If you had asked him what his dream was at this age it was the three of them forming a traveling trio and TAKING OVER THE WORLD

13-15: Light teen fuckery like shoplifting makeup they can't afford and fabric to make costumes. He gets handy with a sewing machine and makes everything for the three of them usually basing it off of whatever Clown Fashion magazine he swiped. He also starts to experiment with his gender around here and comes out as nonbinary in his early teens!

15; Seeing Mammon was the greatest night of life. He still thinks about it as an adult and the whole night gets swept up in this haze that destroys every blemish, in his mind it was the perfect show. Blitz's (right) negative comments bleeding the jealousy filter that comes later. He will be Mammon's protege even if it means leaving the Circus. This was also when the "light" stalking he experienced hit a new high and when Blitzo became his unofficial bodyguard. Cash told him to ignore it and " Take it as a good sign of how popular you are!"

16th [Explosion]: This will be a full hc post by itself one day but tldr he spent most of the after unconscious. Later, he got told the "hero" Cash pulled him from the wreckage before the remains of the tent finished what the fire didn't. He is shocked and hurt made worse by Cash's claims it was Blitz who did it, years of jealousy turning unfortunately deadly. Barbie is in not much better shape and they are alone in the wreckage wracked with betrayal, pain, and medical debt.

16-21: Recovery time. He got fitted with prosthetics and started physical therapy pretty quickly. He focused on his goals and put his head down while also learning ASL for when 1) His voice is too weak to speak from smoke damage 2) Hearing loss in his right ear. Soon he was able to rejoin the Circus (Albeit in a much more stripped down form) and eventually after Barbie's use made her unable to perform, took on most of the performance rolls. He mostly stayed out of guilt with Cash being his "savior".

21: Things hit a boiling point. After Barbie left it was a lot on him as the face of the Circus and he started making demands as such. Cash pushed back again and again until finally he snapped and ended their professional relationship. Out of impulse, he left the Circus for Mammon's stage entering the competition in a thrown together costume and a prayer. And. He. Fucking. Won. After signing on he realized the debt he had with Mammon but shrugged it off as a reality of fame. He moved into greed and took up a small apartment and lived out the year as any other winner. This includes an AI scan to create a robot for LooLooLand.

Nebulous pre-canon I have no set date for:

Mammon announced his wish to start selling robots in his likeness. He felt a little weird about it but went along with it using a more advanced AI based off the LooLoo Land model.

Asmodeus was commissioned to work on them (Fizzbot was made by Mammon hence its...quality) and him and Fizzy gradually grew closer over the project.

Sex robots come shortly after and he just keeps saying yes because its Mammon! His Idol! ...wooh. Also the echo of Crash's words about the stalking not helping much either.

As Mammon shifted focus to the Fizzy Bots, the stage became less a focus and he started working in Ozzies. Moving to Lust as his work moved out of Greed just made sense.

#[ooc] 「backstage pass」 #[musings] 「froggy flips」 #stalking tw #ok im going 2 bed

[prettyandsarcastic]

heart on the stage

Seven (@infamous-if)/MC

≈2,300 words

Mentions of substance/alcohol abuse

EDIT: I had to repost this because I noticed I got Avina's pronouns wrong. Also added some things.

Music to read by: "Euclid" by Sleep Token 

The whiskey sears down her throat as Munroe throws back the shot, so used to it now that it no longer comes with the full body shiver as it settles in her empty stomach. For courage, she tells herself, has to tell herself. Not to dull the ache in her chest or the pounding between her ears, or burn out the sharp pain in the back of her throat. And that’s definitely why she’s taking shots in the bathroom of the green room because she’s not hiding it. No, of course not. 

Her eyes drag upwards to meet her reflection in the dirty mirror and she nearly laughs. The stage makeup just barely hides the dark circles, and the contour only draws more attention to how hollow her cheeks have become in the last months. Despite the wild, manic brightness behind her eyes, she can’t help but think how threadbare she looks. 

Munroe takes a deep, steadying breath and steps out into the green room as her bandmates all turn to her with varying degrees of concern. And why wouldn’t they? These last months they’ve seen her fall farther than she ever thought she would trying to chase away an unspeakable heartbreak, while she tried to keep the fracturing pieces of herself together long enough to get them through to the winner’s circle. And with all their eyes on her, Munroe has never been more aware of the fact that she’s become their weakest link. 

Especially after their last gig landed them in the bottom two and so close to elimination. She knows it was her fault, so out of her mind that she barely remembers performing. When she watched the performance back, saw how she staggered around the stage and skipped whole lines in the lyrics it made her physically ill. 

Her vision fills suddenly with Orion as he steps up to her. His warm hands cup her face and draw her eyes to meet his. Munroe sees herself as he sees her in the reflection of his dark eyes - blown pupils, clammy and flushed with the hint of whiskey on her breath. 

“Munroe…” he trails off, his expression crumpling in disappointment and worry. Because she promised him she’d ease up. Orion didn’t want to see her burn out, collapse on herself like a dying star and leave just as much devastation in her wake. 

Munroe appreciates Orion and everything he does, more than she could ever say, but this isn’t what she needs from him right now. She needs the man who has helped take care of her, promised to get her through this, who has kept her on just this side of breaking. She needs the calm, steady presence that she’s come to rely on - the eye in the center of the storm she's become.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, twisting her head from his hands. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve never played this song live before,” Devyn pipes up. Beside them Iris anxiously gnaws on her thumb, and by the look on her face she agrees. 

Munroe sighs. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the experience we expected and I know I fucked up last gig, but I need you guys to just… keep trusting me.”

She knows she’s asking a lot, but Devyn’s right. The song they have lined up for their performance has never seen the light of day. And while Munroe puts a piece of herself into every song she writes and bares herself for the world to judge with every performance, this song will be the equivalent of pulling her heart from her chest for a live audience. 

Rowan rises from his seat, nervous energy obvious in the way his fingers twitch at his side - pantomiming his chords. He’s unusually serious because he knows what this song means to her, knows what singing it is going to do to her. But he smiles wide and confident as he cups her face in much the same way Orion had. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill it,” he says, taking over Munroe’s usual task of assuring them that their performance is going to be amazing because she’s not sure she could muster her optimism. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“We’ve got your back, Munroe,” August says with a nod.

Her phone vibrates in her hand as Rowan steps away and Munroe finds a text from Sebastian: 

‘Good luck!’ 

Quickly followed by another:

‘Oh crap, I’m not supposed to say that… Break a leg! Maya and I managed to get second row! She’s practically vibrating with excitement!’

Despite herself, Munroe smiles. She can only imagine how excited Maya is going to be when she realizes the song they play is one she’s never heard. Munroe wouldn’t be surprised to see the girl combust from the stage. 

The speaker in the green room crackles to life before a tinny voice filters through: “Wanderer please make your way to the stage. Wanderer, to the stage!” 

The crowd doesn’t know it, but they’re about to witness a performance that they’re going to talk about for the rest of their lives.

.

.

Seven can’t stop smiling as the band stumbles, laughing and hollering into their green room. They gave, hands down, their best performance thus far. There’s no doubt in any of them that they’re going to make it through to the next round. One step closer to the finale. 

He feels too big for his body as he grabs and chugs a water, like he wants to run in every direction at once just to expend the pent up energy. Although he always gives everything he has into every performance, tonight feels different and his throat is on fire from singing, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat and he can hear his blood in his ears. Nothing could kill this high. 

Not even when Avina turns on the TV and switches to the channel featuring Battle of the Bands and he hears: “Stay tuned! Up next are everyone’s favorite underdogs: Wanderer! Can they claw their way out of being in the bottom two from last show?” 

“God, turn it off,” Kieran moans, “We don’t need to watch them this time - we won this round!”

Avina turns and gives Kieran a look. Their hair is sweat-damp mess, cheeks rosy. “I want to watch it, thank you very much.”

Kieran gapes at them before turning to him, “C’mon man, I know you agree with me. Besides, after their last gig, ain’t no way they’re staying after this week.” 

Part of him wants to agree with Kieran. Wanderer bombed their last gig so badly Seven's surprised that they weren't eliminated. And it wasn't even the band's fault - it was Munroe. She'd been such a mess, so clearly not in her right mind, her voice wrecked and thready, even forgetting her own lyrics.  

But Seven’s on cloud nine, his ex could walk into their green room right now and he wouldn’t give a shit. He shrugs, “Let 'em watch it.”

The commercial break ends, the camera pans along the audience before Munroe’s band is introduced and then the lights on the stage go out completely. Seven resists the urge to roll his eyes - always with the theatrics. 

A single spotlight comes to life on the stage. Munroe is seated at a keyboard with no sign of her bandmates. Seven watches as she takes a deep breath before raising her hands to the keys and starts to play - something slower and emotional so unlike Wanderer’s previous, high energy performances. Did she really think a ballad was a good idea? 

It feels like a bucket of ice water gets upturned over his head when she begins to sing - no back up, just Munroe and the keyboard for the opening lines of the song. It’s been so long since he’s heard her play, he had almost forgotten how good she was. It feels like a lifetime ago when it was just her and her keyboard and him and his guitar writing together, falling together between chords and lyrics. 

“Turn it up,” Seven says, ignoring the surprised looks from his band. 

As the lights dim once again, the rest of the band’s vocals rise like a choir in the dark for the refrain, which surprises him because Rowan and Iris don’t usually provide backup vocals. He sees Munroe’s shadow take her mic and make its way to the front of the stage, place the mic in its stand. The rise of the band’s instruments finally coming in takes his breath away as the lights come back up and Munroe, now joined by the band, is backlit by the stage lights, her too thin silhouette outlined in the short, sheer black kaftan-like dress she’s wearing. 

These months on tour have worn her thin, broken her down in a way Seven never thought possible. Munroe is an eternal optimist, she's not like him, she pushes aside her anger, her hurt, holds it quietly inside herself and puts a smile on her face, always, because she never wants anyone to worry about her. But this tour has dulled her light, turned her into something Seven never, no matter how he felt about her, wanted to see. 

Munroe has thrown herself into self-destruction as she is wont to do. Into the parties, the hookups, and the glamor of it all - anything to avoid facing herself. She’s tried to hide the effects, but Seven notices more than he’d like - the drinking, the erratic behavior, the insomnia, the bloody noses. 

Something in his chest kicks watching her and it suddenly occurs to him - he’s never heard this song before. This is new, or at least unreleased… and then it dawns on him: This is for me. And Munroe’s singing with her entire being, all her rage and pain and heartbreak displayed on live television for someone who has barely shown her any kindness these last few months. 

And she had endured it all, his snide comments, his attutude, his disdain for her with such grace. While there were moments when Munroe seemed to reach the end of her long suffering patience, she still smiled at him, always had a kind word for most everyone, hid behind her laugh. Now, a shadow lurked behind her eyes, and Seven is forced to face the uncomfortable fact that he's, at least in part, responsible.

The camera pans to the audience that seems to be held in a daze as they watch her. And Seven understands, he really does. At her best, Munroe is magnificent on stage, something divine - a goddess demanding devotion and supplication from the masses. 

They bring Munroe in close up - there are tears lining her cheeks, but her voice is strong as ever, ringing clear throughout the venue as the song comes into the denouement. It’s as soft as the beginning of the song, with the band slowly fading out until - 

"You will never be mine…"

The lyric hits like a punch in the gut as, for a moment, the crowd is quiet in awe and then erupts into uproarious applause. He watches as Rowan sets his guitar aside and rushes Munroe, enveloping her in his arms. To the crowd and the people at home, it’s a happy hug - a celebration of just how amazing their set was, but it’s not. It’s to keep Munroe from crumpling right there on stage - he saw how her knees went weak.  

Seven’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved, propelled by a sudden gripping panic. He hears the questioning of his bandmates, but can’t make out the words over the roar in his ears, the way his heart wants to escape the prison of his ribs. He rips off his mic, then he’s over the back of the couch and out the door of the green room, sprinting full tilt down the hallway. 

The song wasn’t just for him. It was good-bye. It was letting him know, in the only way he’d listen, the only way he'd hear, that Munroe was letting him go. And Seven realizes he doesn’t accept it, can’t accept it. Once, not even very long ago, it was what he wanted, a freedom from the grip she's always had on his heart and soul. But he didn't realize until now just how much he unintentionally let her light and warmth back into himself because despite his behavior toward her, Munroe still tried. Tried until she was fractured and hopeless and worn. It was something he loved and loathed about her in equal measure, her refusal to give up even when she should. 

Seven bursts through the door to backstage, dodging stage crew and members of other bands. He’s managed to make it backstage in time for Wanderer to come off the stage. He has to get to Munroe before she’s mic’d up again, before the after-performance confessional. 

His body collides with hers with a surprised grunt, and for once he doesn’t care about the cameras and the people as he gathers her against his chest. 

“Seven?” Munroe chokes out. But he feels her cling to him, her hands under his vest, nails in the back of his shirt. Then she's trembling, crying softly into his chest. Finally shattering apart as he tries to hold her together.

“I’m sorry,” he says, into the damp of her hair. He has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he angles her face up to his, thumbing away fresh tears. And the awe on her face breaks something in him in turn, because he knows she doesn't believe he's there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against her lips. They have so much lost time to make up. 

And kissing Munroe feels like a sun rising in his chest, like being found, like coming home. 

#infamous #infamous mc #infamous oc #infamous if #seven/mc #seven lawless #kay writes #munroe redding

[moonshotsx]

on stage - popstar anarcia au

just to get y'all ready for tonight's episode 😌 enjoy! fyi the outfit i’m picturing anetra in is this!

--

Anetra nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking at herself in the mirror, and trying not to mess with anything.

At least the stylist didn't put her in heels, she wasn't ready to make a fool of herself in front of a venue jam packed.

The dressing room door opened without a warning, Marcia entering in a slight panic.

If Anetra was nervous, she couldn't imagine how the singer was feeling, having her concert almost ruined by the lead dancer hurting himself mere hours before the show.

"Just need to fix one more this-" Marcia stopped mid-sentence, noticing the choreographer, "Oh, wow".

"That bad?" Anetra chuckled, trying to make light of the sudden tension.

"Uh? What? No! You look stunning, I mean, yeah... pretty," she fumbled her words, her signature blush coming through the makeup.

"Relax, Marsh, I was just messing with you," Anetra replied as she fixed the leather harness that was styled over her dark button-up shirt.

"They had to change the whole outfit since the shirt your dancer used wouldn't fit over the girls," she gestured over her chest, the slightly open shirt revealing the butterfly tattoo.

"I don't mind the change," Marcia whispered, just low enough for Anetra not to make out what she said.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just... do you want me to help you with that? I know how much of a pain it can be when your stage costume bothers you".

She walked up to Anetra, somewhat towering over her with her heels, "Can I?".

"Sure, go ahead, blondie".

Marcia carefully set her hands on Anetra's sides where the harness was digging into her. She tried not to notice her heartbeat going 80 miles an hour as she made contact with the warmth of the choreographer's skin.

Anetra, on the other hand, was also trying not to show how affected she was by the sudden closeness, how much she wanted to just lean in and taste those pretty pouty lips.

As soon as Marcia's hands were on her, they were gone.

"All done," she let out before lifting her eyes and meeting Anetra's. A detail in the latter's makeup catching her eye, "Your scar".

It wasn't hidden, but rather accentuated with a white line and integrated with a soft sunset eye look.

It was Anetra's turn to blush, "Yeah, the makeup artist thought it would be cool to emphasize it, you know, making me look cooler".

The singer's face broke into a smile, "I like that, your scar," she explained, "It's so you".

The brunette smiled back, "Maybe one day I'll tell you how I got it. It was, like, super badass, you know," she teased, prompting Marcia to chuckle.

"I bet it was, I can't wait to hear it".

Anetra's reply was cut off by one of the staff members coming in to snatch Marcia away for the last soundcheck.

"I have to go," the singer pouted, "But I'll see you soon, alright?"

The choreographer gave her a small nod before Marcia left the room.

Anetra let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Fuck, this isn't the time for that," she said to herself, "We can't afford to possibly fuck this work opportunity just because a pretty blonde smiled at us, okay?".

-

@ NewsInPop: #Marcia trends worldwide as she stuns fans during her latest concert when she reveals a female dancer as her dance partner for her latest single 'Break My Heart'. She has already earned a nickname from the singer's fandom: #butterflygirl

#fic prompt #anarcia #popstar au

[dreamiesformula]

todo es un acto - PG10 (Pierre Gasly) x Reader

Idk I had a weird bout of energy while in hospital and wrote this, if it’s shit I’m sorry blame the pain killers? Nevertheless I hope you enjoy this weird little story and if the Spanish or French is written wrong dm me what to fix and help me lol cause google translate isn’t a friend, I learnt that from year 7 Indonesian project… that I failed! Anywho have a bloody lovely day y’all and thanks for taking time to read my silly little imagines, I love you all 💙.

Warnings: mentions of weight, beauty standards & abusive exs.

Anything written like “this” will be spoken in Spanish.

______________________________

Pierre Gasly had gained himself a reputation and not a good one, the fans were turning on him, his life was in shambles and he was titled a player and not the good kind. A new girl every location, showing up hungover, risking being dropped from Alpha Tauri all because he had given up on love, his dreams and life, the stress from the world’s eyes had broken the now 26 year old. That’s when y/n got a call from her manager she was a back up dancer for international pop stars CNCO, her life was going well until rumours of her relationship with her assigned dance partner member Christopher broke. The fangirls turned on her and abandoned the couple they once shipped and it wasn’t even true, they had great chemistry… sparks even but they were best friends they put on a facade a show for the audience and they bought into it a too hard.

That’s how y/n found herself here in a Alpha Tauri office, F1 driver Pierre Gasly sat across from her and her manager, at least 5 members of his team, who she knew as his team principle cause that’s how he introduced himself and some shareholders in their business all having a meeting. “You two will stage a relationship” the girl’s manager Mary said, she’d grown up with Mary she was her other best friend she was older than her by 3 years and got the job after a few years in university. “Fuck off” the driver mutters “nah you’re kidding right” she looked at her friend fear clear in her eyes she was 21 freshly and had too heard about what he put girls through, at this point the whole world had. “He’s 5 years older than me, how is that even believable?” y/n stood up but Mary pulled her down hand in hand “it’ll save all 3 careers, You, Chris and His” she points to the Frenchman who’d now gone defensive as his team manger man speaks up “Pierre as you’re aware you are one mistake away from being dropped completely from his sport, don’t ruin what we’ve put money and hard work into for you. Y/n here will be your girlfriend, we’ve made up a story and everything. You two met last year at that Spanish Grand Prix, you’ll reunite making it officially public… cnco will perform at the Spanish Grand Prix this year, obviously you’ll dance there. We need physical affection galore, sell it or your careers are finished.” He stands up dismissing himself as I stare at the man.… Pierre, Pierre Gasly. How did this even happen?

Y/n’s p.o.v

A woman wearing a Alpha Tauri blazer speaks next “Y/n and you have a date planned for tonight at 7pm, Pierre pick her up and take her home after. There will be at least 10 paparazzi there” she smiles a sad smile at me “we have your dress picked up, Carmen will come do your makeup and hair” Mary pats my back Chris’ artist had really been flown all the way out here for this, what I thought was a getaway in Milan was fairly changing. I stand up walking away quickly calling Chris as soon as I could “they’re making me fake fate some fallen off sports star all because of our rumours” I breathlessly splurt out “aye aye, amor… breathe they’re what?” He tries to calm me down “they’re making me date a F1 driver whose gonna lose his job cause he’s a fuckboy” I scoff “hey, it’s gonna be okay amado” I start to tear up “he’s 26, he has serious issues and woman aren’t known as valuable to him. Chris this is a death sentence” I take a seat on a chair outside “look I know it’s hard, but it’ll save your career… apparently so his too. Look I’ll be here every step of the way if he tries anything I’m ending him” I chuckle Chris was my everything Mary was all I had left in my childhood. Disowned by my father after my mother died… I thought my life had been shit enough without being sold to a boy but apparently not. “I’m coming to pick you up, we arrived in Milan last night. We have a meeting with some car racing company… which makes sense now” he sighs “Chris, he’s walking over to me, I have to go… I love you” I hung up before he can speak.

“Hello, y/n was it?” He sits next to me I simply nod and he break character “look I know this isn’t ideal. You’re not my type anyways, but I really don’t want to be known as the guy I am I wasn’t always like this. Believe it or not I thought I’d found my forever clearly not…” he pauses while bitterly laughing to himself he’d obviously been through some shit “I just, I guess I’m asking although we don’t know each other… can you please help, just don’t fall for me mon amour” he smirks what the fuck this guy was seriously tryna play like a player after all I know well then “maybe, look it’s not ideal but if it saves Chris’ career then I’ll do it” I don’t bat an eyelash leaving him out that’s when I notice a few fans taking tours I snuggle into his side quickly putting his arm around me “don’t ask just play with with it” I whisper into his ear as he smiles “babe I have to go soon I have meetings” he speaks at a inside level volume as two young girls approach us “omg Pierre, hello!!” They smile widely slightly side eyeing me “ah hello, what are your names?” He stands up detaching us to give the girls attention I stand up too slightly to the side I watch as they try to take selfies “did you want me to take photos for you both?” I ask as the blonde girl turns to me “could you PLEASE?” I chuckle lightly “of course” I grab the phone and start taking photos getting good angles of everyone as the girls thank me “you’re literally the sweetest thank you!” The brown haired girl smiles “no worries at all, gotta get the good pics for Instagram babes!!” I smile and they laugh overall pretty good so far “so Pierre is this a new play thing?” The blonde snaps I freeze as I feel a hand over my waist then a head on my shoulder “no, this is my girlfriend, those days are gone” he smiles it looked genuine, it’s silent for a while “I’m so proud of you for changing for the better, it would’ve been so upsetting if I had to stop supporting you” she sighs I step in for a second “hey trust me, if he acted like a dick to me he’d be beat” I laugh and she does too “trust me malice commenters on the internet have no idea how good he is, everyone makes mistakes but he’s improving himself everyday!” I smile at the Frenchman fondly “can we all take a selfie?” The brown haired girl asks shyly “of course lovely” I smile pulling Pierre in and posing “thank you so much, we will leave you alone now!” They both smile hugging us both and walking the opposite directly “wow y/n you handled that well!” He budges my shoulder “happens to Chris all the time I’m used to it, Pierre I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll do whatever I have to for my friend I’m doing this for him, his career that he’s worked hard for, I could care less about you” with that I kiss his cheek to put on a show turn around walking to the office I knew Mary was still sat at. “I told you, for Chris I’ll do anything” with that I nod to Mary signalling to leave “it’s been lovely to meet you Fabiana I have a feeling I’ll see you soon” they smile sharing a friendly handshake before we leave “you’re committed to this already huh, just don’t fall in love with him” she snarks “trust me, he’s too much of a prick for me to wanna be with him” I laugh “now remember you attend a few dates, then in 3 weeks we fly to Spain for the Spanish Grand Prix. You’ll be offical, remember…” I cut her rant off “ appearance is everything” I roll my eyes the same line she’s told me for years. As I’m about to hit freedom I feel some hands around my waist I turn around shocked but I am met with Chris “eyyy, Christopher” I scream hugging him it had been a month or so since we’d had a rehearsal so I hadn’t seen him, “aye mami, save the screaming for later” he quirks his eyebrow as I smack his shoulder “let’s go get you ready for a hot date” he smirks “I hate you” I mutter as he walks us to a car he rented “Carmen is in the hotel lobby you are staying at the same place, let’s go” Mary demands and Chris opens the door for me laughing I get in.

Pierre’s p.o.v

Pierre stood at the door watching it unfold how friendly and touchy they were Chris, that’s who he was a tattooed up 2012 Justin Bieber knock off who spoke Spanish. He was gonna stalk socials before the date “careful staring is bad for your eyes” Pyry sneaks behind Pierre “she’s not meant to be my type” I whisper allowing myself to be vulnerable as I trusted him “Pierre buddy, your type is superficial, obedient from what I’ve heard she’s grown up around Latin women. She’s gonna fight you with her first energy, she’s not a precious model” he pats my back laughing “she’s a bit fat” I whisper “she’s healthy mate, say that shit again you’ll not have anyone left in your corner” with that he walks away I never used to be like that, what happened to the old me?

Y/n’s p.o.v

Chris takes us back to the hotel and I let him, Carmen, Richard, Erick & Mary into my room “where is Zabbie?” I ask “he went to visit his mama” I nod as Erick replies “so what? You’re just expected to fake date this random guy?” Richard asks me “yeah to save and I quote his career and break the reputation he has as well a woman using asshole, to save Chris and I too as well” I scoff “chica you didn’t tell me that… I’d rather lose everything then have you suffer through this man” Chris bursts out “no, it’s okay. We promised our dreams would come true, I now must work to keep what I promised” I smile to him sadly yes I loved him, but we had too strong of a bond to ever risk losing each other that we agreed upon in the beginning “well it’s 5 pm now let’s get you ready” Carmen ushers me to the bathroom “Dress and shoes is in there, I’ll do your hair and makeup after “You have time for a shower” she smiles and I lock the door getting ready for the longest night of my life after my shower I stare at the navy blue lace show string strapped dress in front of my a metallic silver 3 inch heels “not bad” I say as I put it on zipping it up at the back with great struggle, I walk out “what do we think?” I ask the group currently sprawled across my bed and floor “aye mami” Chris almost moans turning me red “estas caliente!” Erick says straight up making everyone laugh “thank you, thank you” I smile Richard looks like a hungry lion looking at me “now are we sure she can’t fake date me?” He winks and I remember now why I never hang out with these idiots unless I must “stop it y’all” I gush. Carmen works her magic with my hair curling it and gives me fancy makeup like proper red lip, slightly Smokey eye but with dark blues and culver accessories “I feel like a new person” I say to no one in particular “you look gorgeous” she smiles “all thanks to you” I hug her briefly.

“Time check?” I yell to the boys over pretend playing in the background “6:50 pm” I nod would he even show up? “Come dance” Chris takes my hand and we salsa around to the addictive beat playing loudly through a speaker I didn’t take notice of the boys filming us in our own little world spinning hand in hand laughing slightly, like we did when I was new to the group. Interrupted by the knocks on the door “here we go” I mumble “you got this y/n” Chris mumbles I fix my hair straightening up opening the door with a smile “hi” I say no louder than a whisper “hey” he smiles “you look…étonnante” he says in French giving me chills “ah amazing” he corrects himself I smile “you don’t look to bad yourself Gasly” I smile I open the door to grab my purse “he’s staring at your ass” Erick says a little too loudly “for real for real” Richard adds “ah Pierre come meet my friends” ushering him in with my hand “meet Richard, Erick and Christopher!” I smile pointing to each boy he shakes their hand “this is Mary, you’ve met her and this is Carmen” I watch him hug them both “well we should be off, lovely to meet you all. I am sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you!” He smiles titling his head slightly was he being overly fake? “Don’t wait up” I smile waving to them all offering Chris a reassuring smile as Pierre takes my hand to escort me out “I drove here by the way, so I could drop you off” he looks down I couldn’t tell if this was an act or how he was it was confusing “that’s very sweet, I appreciate it Pierre” I offer him a smile lifting his head with my hand “you’re quite the gentleman” I smirk placing a hand on his forearm “I’m really trying” he sighs “keep this up we might actually pull off being a couple” I giggle as we reach the car he opens the door for me to get in closing it jumping on his side it’s awkward at first but it’s like a 5 minute drive music lowly playing Pierre humming a little nervously.

When we arrive we get seated outside on the balcony of the 4th floor of the restaurant I take in my surroundings it was so surreal, “this is so nice” I gasp this wasn’t what I was expecting we sit down being handed champagne and menus looking through I already knew I was having pasta… when in Italy right? “So tell me about yourself” Pierre breaks the silence I’m not gonna lie his voice was addictive “well that depends how much you wanna know, I’m 21… I am a professional dancer, I have no family so cnco are pretty much my bros. I dabble in song worrying and production, I really love travel and my biggest fear in losing my loved ones.” I laugh “you gotta be specific or else I’ll just say anything I think of” I shrug he looks intently into my eyes unbeknown to me mentally noting to ask when more comfortable about the past “what about you Gasly?” I smile and he replies with more than I expected “uh well, I’m 26, I drive fast cars for a living, I used to drive for red bull but go demonted after poor performance so I’m with Alpha Tauri have been for a while. I want to be world champion one day, I love fashion and I was born in Rouen in France” he lights up the awkward tension floating away “fashion, I can tell you dress incredibly well” I smile I found myself doing a lot of that he didn’t seem that bad so far he takes a sip of his drink “may I take your order?” A man asks standing at the end of our table Pierre orders first then I do “I’ll get the _________ please, sir” I smile and he nods “of course anything for a gorgeous lady like you” he comments and I shift uncomfortably, the sir wasn’t an advance it was a formality Pierre notices and grabs my hand across the table “also I think girlfriend and I will get some more champagne please sir” he bites and I giggle lightly “yes of course, right away” he scrambled away “you okay mon Ange?” He asks soft tonnes almost worried “yeah yeah, just… uncomfortable for a second, thank you for that by the way” I can’t lift my gaze as it’s stuck firmly on our interlocked hands “I have to protect my girlfriend, wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t” he laughs right yes the act… it’s all just an act.

Pierre’s p.o.v

Once again I found myself growing fond of this girl, she was so far left of what I aimed for in the past that it was almost right. I saw she was uncomfortable and acted before I thought, I wanted to protect her, I couldn’t become this attached to a stranger but something was pulling me to her something aside from a contract. Our food comes out and after eating we talk some more I notice she’s really cold so I stand up as her eyes follow me to beside her taking off my blazer revealing my white button up shirt placing it around her I notice slightly that there are paparazzi outside cameras pointed at us so hopefully they get good shots of me haha. “Thank you Pierre” she smiles at me while my heart rate picks up, I thought she’d be so closed off, cold but she embraced this whole act… right it was only an act.

We have dessert with very little begging required from y/n for me to cave Pyry wasn’t gonna be happy with me, I didn’t care she looked to happy right now for me to care, gorgeous and happy there was something rather wholesomely endearing about her. Sexy and cute maybe this whole fake dating wouldn’t be too bad, but how long could I let this just be an act. It was already driving me mad she just wasn’t typically what I wanted or what any other driver had. I learnt that she was passionate about her loved ones and would do anything for them, she learnt about my struggles in F1 this far we opened up that was usually a good first step. “What are you comfortable with, when we have to public ally display ourselves?” I ask her genuinely as not to overstep we were still strangers “hand holding, being clingy, playful pecks on the cheek ect” I was slightly flustered when she mentioned kisses “might I have a good luck peck prior to my races” I chuckle and she slyly nods “does that also mean when you have to attend more races, you’ll walk into the paddock by my side?” She hesitates “I’m not sure” I pause before figuring I might as well be honest “it would mean a lot to me, right now I’ve turned everyone even my own parents against me… I walk in alone and it breaks me” I feel myself tearing up I wasn’t about to cry, I was never that vulnerable or weak she stands up coming over to me throwing her legs over mine sitting facing me in what should’ve been a sexual position but she turned it tender, comforting. She places her hands on my face as she looks at me wiping under my eyes “for now I’ll be in your corner Pierre, you have me, I’ll allow that much but please don’t break me” she smiles sadly before connecting her lips briefly with mine I was taken aback but I kissed back for a short time she tried to stand but but I pull her head against my shoulder bringing her closer to me, I look down to her exposed thigh thinking about how she was so vastly different, she wasn’t a perfect stick, she had captivating curves, thicker thighs, an ass and some perky boobs. I couldn’t deny he loved looking at her “you’re incredible” I mumble “I know” she smirks “let’s be the best couple ever” she smiles playing with my hair I freeze she didn’t say fake, why didn’t she say fake? He is broken in his thought “thank you for not saying I was too heavy” she looks down to the ground behind her “what? Why would I say that?” I was confused did she hear what I said, did someone tell her what I said to Pyry? “My ex used to say it all the time, I couldn’t sit on him or cuddle or play fight or anything he said I was too fat, too heavy, weighed too much to be shown off like that” I hate myself in that moment I was so superficial she may not know I said it but oh gosh did I feel guilty, she was younger than me and I really tried to profile her something so variable as looks. “He didn’t deserve you angel” the words flowed so easily as of it was more than a sentence but a declaration, “well aren’t you a charmer mr. Gasly” she smiles her head going to the nape of my neck “let’s hope they haven’t caught us” she giggles hearing camera clicks galore “alright let’s get you home or else I’m going to take this too far” I admit no higher than a whisper I didn’t want to ruin the moment but I felt more than I should in that moment she stops lifts her head and smacks my arm playfully “cheeky” and gets off me I slightly miss the close contact it’s like I’ve been spelled. That couldn’t of been an act, no way.

Y/n’s p.o.v

He paid for us, thankfully I probably couldn’t afford a breath of air here let alone what we ate but he seemed more genuine less guarded “let’s get you home shall we” he smiles I still had his blazer on arms safely through the arm holes it smelt expensive much like he did. Comforting, attractive and very nice honestly if he kept this up I may very well fall in love, he was charming, cheeky and safe… he felt safe how could this be the man I read all those rumours about? On the drive home he rested a hand on the wheel and one on my thigh it felt weirdly cliche but also perfect, “I think most people have brought it” I smile to him telling him indirectly he could drop the act but his hand stayed “the internet will believe anything, we have to play the part well enough to convince everyone around us” he says I could tell impressing the paddock, ultimately getting his friends back, that was most important “if they don’t believe us, I’ll just make out with you in front of them” I laugh “promise” he smirks pull up at my hotel “I almost don’t wanna say goodbye” I sigh realising what I said smacking my hand I’ve my mouth “you’re not the only one” he turns to face me giving my thigh a little squeeze “I’d like to take you out again soon” the contact was intense feeling myself losing touch to reality “I’d like that you did” he lets go getting out of the car to escort me to my room. “Why don’t you come to Grand Prix this weekend? It’ll be as a spectator but maybe you’ll get a feel for what goes on to… Yaknow ah prepare for Spain?” He scratches the back of his head “I’d love to, I wanna see you in your element” hugging him before I even thought about it “what’re you doing to me y/n” he scoffs “oh I’m sorry” I back away looking hurt “no no no, I mean… I like you being near, probably too much” I was taken aback “for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad guy Pierre I just think you got lost in all the fame, pressure and what not” I pat his shoulder but he bends down hugging me “you’re the first person to say that mon chéri” my heart flutters pet names “I told you, I’m in your corner mi querida” I caress his cheek as he connects our foreheads “this feels right” he mutters almost too quiet to hear “if I don’t say goodnight now I won’t leave” he chuckles standing up and walking away “aye Gasly” I call to him as he stops in place I run up to him connecting our lips “it does feel right” I smile turning around back to my room shocked at what I did but more shocked when I open my room to Christopher, Richard, Erick and Mary all watching a horror movie so I sneak up behind them phone filming in hand sneaking up to them “BOO!” I scream and they lose it I laugh so hard I could’ve peed myself. “Hello crazies, it is I the best friend y’all got back and alive from my date” I announce and they bombard me with questions which I ignore “mes tired, mes going to shower and to beds, good night my sexy people” I throw a peace sign up and strut to my bathroom.

This wasn’t just an act anymore and that was terrifying.

#f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly oneshot #pg10

[cdyssey]

Sorry

Summary: When both Peeta and Katniss's scores come back as perfect and punitive twelves, Haymitch finds himself in Effie Trinket's room with a bottle of gin.

A/N: I've been re-reading The Hunger Games trilogy and got all up in my Hayffie feels again. The grip that these two people had on me as a middle schooler, omg.

AO3 Link

—

It’s a corridor on the twelfth floor that Haymitch knows a little too well. Over the long and unending years, he’s taken to calling it Capitol Row because it’s where people like the stylists and their prep teams have been given temporary residences during the Games. All fully furnished and luxurious, the kinds of suites that would comfortably house entire shacks from the Seam. His uneven footsteps mechanically carry him to the door at the very end of the hallway, where a faint sliver of golden light seeps through the cracks and fans across the mahogany floor. He slams his knuckles against the paneled wood rather harshly, not even bothering to stifle the violence.

It's the only way he knows how to carry himself in the world.

“Not now, Haymitch, please,” Effie Trinket calls out from somewhere within the room, her voice high, pitched with audible strain. “I’m a little… indisposed at the moment. Hardly suitable for company.”

He laughs roughly at this, leaning heavily against the nearest wall to support his tenuous equilibrium. His other fist is clenched around one of the cloudy bottles of District 11’s gin that Chaff managed to smuggle on to the train. Strong stuff. Could probably clean the rust off of an old threshing machine. Was probably originally distilled for that very purpose anyway.

“Is that a fancy word for drunk, sweetheart?”

“No!” He can hear her bristling indignation in just the one syllable. “Just… I don’t have my makeup on or my wig… or any of my other necessary accoutrements! Furthermore, it is well past midnight, and—“

“And I’ve seen you without all your fancy shit on before.” He says this a little more quietly—far more carefully—wriggling it through his chapped lips as though he’s negotiating a key in a lock. He glances behind him, craning his head, but the six or so doors beneath Effie’s room are undisturbed, the hallway silent and dark. 

It’s just them awake after an exhausting day.

For the most part during the Games, it usually is.

“I’m… not in the mood tonight,” comes an even quieter reply—close to him, he thinks, just on the other side of the door, the sound pressed right against the grain. “Surely you’re not either, Haymitch—not after, you know…” She trails off awkwardly, but he has no trouble following her thoughts.

Dinner.

The kids’ tiny rebellions.

Their dual punishments of a perfect score.

The boy painted Rue in a bed of flowers.

The girl hung Seneca Crane.

Heavensbee is likely furious; they can hardly stage a proper mutiny if Katniss and Peeta are both immediately killed by jealous Careers at the Bloodbath.

“I’m not here to fuck you,” Haymitch agrees gruffly, taking a long drag of the gin, almost ecstatic that it burns his abused tongue. He swishes it around in his mouth a little and lets the pain erupt down the column of his throat before finally swallowing. “I just wanna talk.”

“So vulgar,” Effie whispers disapprovingly.

“Let me in,” he only returns, knowing that he’s won when her strongest counterargument boils down to manner—which both of them are well aware that he doesn't have. There’s an infinitesimal sigh and the telltale ker-clunk of a lock before the door suddenly sweeps inwards, and Effie Trinket is standing there in the triangle of light, bathed in golden fluorescence. As she had complained, she’s not wearing any makeup and that ridiculous orange wig is just behind her on a table, sitting neatly atop of a custom mannequin head. Her natural hair falls in soft waves across her shoulders, light and flaxen and not bleached to oblivion yet like her nonexistent brows. Beneath those very same brows, he can see that she’s been crying recently, the redness of her eyes unmistakable.

“I like you better without all that crap caked on your face,” he offers by way of greeting and waddles past her into the room, giving her the time she needs to collect herself. She closes the door with a quiet click, and he hears her sniff surreptitiously at the exact same time. With Effie Trinket, he’s come to learn that timing is never a coincidence with her.

They’re in her small living area where there’s a comfortable couch, a large television screen embedded into the wall, and a full mini-bar outfitted with all the precocious wines that District 12’s bubbly escort likes to drink. He heads there first and scoops up two crystalline glasses from the display cabinet, studying them with a knowing smirk. They’re far too elegant and expensive for the bootleg hooch that District 11 herbalists brew in their back rooms, but still, he pours himself a generous finger from his bottle anyway. And he reaches upwards towards the shelf, instinctively grabbing the Prosecco he knows to be Effie’s favorite, and fixes her a glass too, filling it to the rim.

“You only say that because you have no taste,” she accuses, and he hears her dainty footfalls as she comes up behind him. His entire body tenses, primal instinct, muscle reflex. Ever since his own Quarter Quell—almost twenty-five years ago to the day now—he doesn’t like when people approach him from behind, where he can’t see their faces and what they’re holding in their murderous hands. But then she’s right beside him, nearly a foot shorter than he is without her heels, examining the gin skeptically, and the moment passes. He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

“Case in point,” she frowns obliviously, tapping the bottle with one of her long fingernails, “this simply looks abominable, Haymitch. When is the last time this bottle was washed?”

“It’s gin, Princess,” he snorts, nudging her glass towards her. “It’s doing all the cleaning itself.”

“That seems like a dubious fact,” Effie shakes her head, capturing her glass in a delicate tangle of fingers. But she’s decidedly anything but delicate as she knocks back a long swill, nearly getting a quarter of it in one go. He almost laughs at her, almost calls her out on the impropriety of it all, but then he sees that her fingers are quivering.

“Hey, what do I know?” He shrugs gently, absently swirling his own drink around. “I’m just an alcoholic fuck up from District 12.”

She stops short and stares at him with wide, impossibly blue eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost wager that they're surgically altered.

But no, she's Effie, and she's frankly vain about having all of her natural parts.

("Boobs 'n ass too?" He'd teased her less than a year ago, when they'd been sweating in the sheets in her room on the Victory Tour train. It was a damned better way to deal with the night than succumbing to the nightmares.)

("Crass," she had just rolled those vivid eyes, lithe and luminous in the faint light emitting from the overhead vents. "I despise that in a man.")

(And they promptly went at it for another hour.)

“You’re a victor.” She briefly touches his wrist, right on the jagged scar he’d gotten from one of those wretched birds that had skewered Maysilee. Its swordlike beak had nearly gone through bone before he’d hacked off its head with his axe, scaring the flock away. But it’d been too late for his once ally—his almost friend—the girl whose blonde hair cascaded down her back like water. He still nightmares her blood, how it bloomed across her sliced open skin, how his calloused hands were covered with it, long after he left the arena.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Haymitch says flatly before taking a long drink himself. “In fact, one caused the other.”

Effie doesn’t look like she knows what to say to this, gaping silently, and a ripple of familiar disgust shudders through him as he is reminded of the escort’s  utter Capitolness, how the stench of it rolling off of her is even stronger than her trademark floral perfume. She’s never known true suffering, never been driven to the bottle or a morphling drip ‘cause she’s seen the life leave someone eyes and maybe even caused it. Her hands, her mind, her sheltered life are perfectly manicured, and not for the first time since their informal bedtime arrangements began a few years ago, he wonders how he can lay in her bed and kiss that very same perfectly manicured body and be inside of her and—

But then, just as he’s thinking about leaving, she is carefully bending down and pressing her pink lips to the leathery skin of his scarred arm with all the tenderness of a lover. And when she straightens up again, he can see the fresh tears clinging to her pale lashes. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, almost inaudibly. He has to lean forward to really hear her. “I am.”

He freezes, unsure of what to do with an unguarded Effie Trinket, how to navigate this unexpected moment. He doesn’t want to say it’s okay because it damn well isn’t—none of this is. They’re all pieces in a chess game that ends in the deaths of twenty-three goddamn kids nearly every year. They are bodies shuffled around by the hands of a malevolent god. Reap. Kill. Rinse. Repeat. And sorry is insufficient in the cruel reality of that fact; tears are more than useless when the gong rings and the Bloodbath begins, whether for the tributes of the new year or in his nightmares every night, Maysilee just to the left of him, the candy-colored sky stretching like taffy above them both.

So Effie’s sorry isn’t sufficient because it just damn well isn’t okay, but still—both the fight and the need for flight gutters through Haymitch’s tired body, like a drain unplugged, replaced with an unpleasant epiphany that he has about the District Twelve escort every now and then.

She actually cares.

He can’t say that about many other Capitol lackeys.

“So many broken people goin’ into the arena this year, sweetheart,” he smiles at her sadly, “two of them my—our—kids.”

Of course they’re both of their kids. He remembers that last year, it was Effie by his side in the Donor’s Lounge, charming potentially sponsors and directing them back to Haymitch with a winning smile. She’d stayed up in the monitor room on many a night too, helping him keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta even if they were just sleeping in that cave, trying to stave off various infections. He and the escort were the first in the clinic after the star-crossed lovers had been pulled from the arena, bloodied and half-mad, the boy on the brink of death, and Effie had snarled at one of the doctors for daring to suggest that they might do some cosmetic alterations on them while they were both under the knife: breast augmentation, jaw sculpting, lip fillers. 

“They’re children,” she had shrieked, getting into his face, feral and ferocious, a lioness standing between a surgeon and her cubs. “Save them. Save Peeta’s leg, but don’t you dare, don’t you even think about—!“

It’s this visceral memory that prompts Haymitch to suddenly breach the space between them, gently lifting her chin so that she’s not staring at the ground—so that she’s looking at him—and he can see her that her lower lip is trembling from a concerted effort not to cry.

“Our stupid kids,” he laughs hoarsely, drawing his thumb across the soft plane of her cheek, over and over again, until he soothes the sadness from her. “Gettin’ perfect training scores because they wanted to stick it to the man. They’ve got balls, I’ll give ‘em that, but they’re not making it any easier for us to help them.”

To save them, really, if Heavensbee’s batshit insane plan works perfectly—not that the woman across him can know anything about that. Not yet, at least, until Haymitch is sure that he can secure her a spot on a rebel hovercraft. Because if the hijacking succeeds, and they can get the Katniss and Peeta out, then one of the first things that happens is that their teams will pay for it—arrested, tortured, interrogated, maybe even killed to prove some sick point to the people of Panem. He can’t save them all, and he’s so fucking sorry that he can’t, but maybe, just maybe, he can save one person.

It’s the responsibility of the mentor.

He always has to choose just one.

“No,” Effie sighs, leaning into the touch ever so slightly. “But they never have, our darling children. So naughty… always stirring up trouble...”

These final words stir the dregs of his memory, and he remembers why he had lumbered here in the first place. Because Effie had said something curious at dinner—shocking even—after she'd learned what the kids had done. She had betrayed much more knowledge about the unrest in the districts than he could have ever expected from a career Capitol.

You’ll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss, she had pointed out, directly indicating that she was well aware that the young victors were in trouble to begin with. He’d suspected as much when she spent her entire post-Games interview circuit last year tearing up over her star-crossed lovers as she sat across from an emotionally sympathetic Caesar Flickerman. Most escorts during their winning years tended to talk about themselves and their overstated roles in their victor’s success.

But not Effie.

If the entire team, from the stylists to Haymitch, was consciously united in trying to convince Snow that Katniss extending those berries was the desperation of a besotted lover, then Effie, without having ever been prompted, contributed her ample talents to the machine as well. 

But what had surprised him most at dinner was that she’d known what had happened to Seneca Crane. Rumor has it that he was made to eat the nightlock berries that started this all: tumbling dominoes, a glass Capitol, and an even shakier nation of cards. From what he can tell, the citizens of the Capitol just think he’s retired to the Pax Romana Islands for a well-deserved retirement at the respectable age of thirty-six.

But not Effie.

Oh, Katniss…. How do you even know about that?

“So Seneca Crane,” he puts it out there bluntly, causing the escort to flinch so violently that she spills a little wine on the side of her hand. Letting go of her cheek, he swipes it off for her with the cuff of his very nice sleeve, earning a remonstrative glare. 

“Don’t,” she says sharply, turning away from him. With graceful footsteps, she heads in the direction of the couch, where he can see that her brightly colored notebooks are piled. She sits down next to them, places her glass on an end table, and fusses over them, even though they’re already immaculately arranged. “We shouldn’t discuss such matters.”

“And why shouldn’t we?” He challenges a little recklessly, following her, sitting down on the couch right next to her. He doesn’t give up his gin, though, keeping it close to his chest. “You’re a Capitol darling. Your room isn’t bugged.”

He’s already ascertained that at least ten times over the course of his nighttime visits, scouring every inch of her suite for a spying device and satisfactorily coming up short every time. She's Effie Trinket. The last thing from a threat to the perilous standing of the government. A model citizen. Voted the most stylish escort for three years straight.

The fact that she's such a reliable goody two-shoes occasionally has its perks.

Like freedom of speech in her inner rooms.

“And you’ll be the very one to change that,” she hisses without looking at him, now seemingly trying to reorganize the notebooks by color, “if someone gets wind of the fact that we were talking about forbidden topics in here. What is it that you always stress to me? Circumspection and precaution? Safety?”

Haymitch knows she’s right, as she annoyingly tends to be—but maybe it’s because he’s furious with his impulsive tributes or maybe it’s because he’s secretly impressed by their resolve—that he continues to push her anyway, wanting to see how far he can take this night and all the madness it already contains.

They're all probably going to end up dead soon anyway, so what the hell?

He’s got nothing to lose that isn’t being taken from him already. 

He turns up his glass again.

For liquid luck.

“There’s no safety in being anywhere near District Twelve these days,” he smiles at her mockingly as she now stacks her notebooks based on size, slamming one against the other with perfect and violent precision. “Surely you must know that by now, huh?”

Effie doesn’t say anything after this for a long time—hands carefully poised around the edges of what he knows to be her agenda—and he’s nearly decided that she isn’t going to say anything at all, too cowardly, too Capitol, but… then finally—

“Do you want me to say yes?” She asks in a cool, measured tone. “Will you go away if I acknowledge the unspeakable precariousness of our current situation? I fear for my own life, yours, and certainly Katniss and Peeta’s—though I can hardly do anything where the children are concerned. None of us can because this Quarter Quell, and it is... it's—" But before she can say anything that could potentially be construed as rebellious, Haymitch watches, in real time, as the escort, ever a perfect self-disciplinarian, cuts herself off, subjugating her feelings into a word that springs awkwardly from her accented tongue. "... unprecedented. Are you happy now, Mr. Abernathy?”  

“No,” he says plainly, any maliciousness sagging away from his face at her outburst. He had hardly estimated the depths of her feelings and the lengths she'd go to ensure that they never surfaced. “I’m never happy and definitely not about that.”

“Then why make me say it?” She barely whispers, her eyes glazed and her voice constrained. He has a feeling that if she lets go of her planner, there’d be nothing left to tether her to any sort of dignified display of composure. So she grips it far too tightly, her chest visibly fluttering beneath the silky fabric of her nightshirt. “Why do you insist upon hearing it aloud?”

It’s a pointed examination of what she believes to be his cruelty, and perhaps she’s right. Maybe he is just being a dick, pressing her to admit what she can’t possibly control, but Haymitch slowly shakes his head at the implicit accusation, his free hand tightly holding his knee.

“Saying it makes it real, Effie,” he tells her and doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to see this particular realization register in her porcelain features like a blow. “We’re all in danger, and if we’re going to have a chance of makin' it out… it’s gotta be real. To you. To me. To those two unlucky bastards right down the hallway."

He hears but doesn’t see her shuddered breath, how a sob audibly hitches in the back of her throat. But to her credit, she pieces herself together remarkably fast, a rebuttal soft on her lips.

“I don’t want it to be real,” she says, almost whimpering it, like a child in the throes of a nightmare. He pities her, suddenly reminded that she’s young and terribly naïve—not unlike a child—and he is simultaneously disappointed in her for not realizing the ultimate truth of the Hunger Games.

All of it is real.

The brutality and the carnage.

The bodies and the bodies and the bodies and the—

“But it is, sweetheart,” he says. Almost kindly. “Seneca Crane's not sipping’ piña coladas at a beachside resort.”

Effie closes her eyes at this, the faint lines beneath them stark in the warm light that floods the room, and finally lowers her agenda to her lap, even as she continues to sit primly—with perfect discipline.

A single tear slips down the pointed architecture of her face, falling in such a straight line that he imagines that she arranged for it to do so.

“He was two years above me in grade school,” she murmurs, lacing her shaking fingers together just below her stomach. “Seneca. Our fathers were both product importation overseers, and Seneca would come over sometimes when they were working and talk to me about aesthetic game design.” 

“So you were friends,” Haymitch surmises, watching a uniquely painful expression twist her pale features into unsalvageable convolutions. “More than that?”

His gut inexplicably lurches at the added supposition, but to his surprise, Effie laughs humorlessly at this, finally opening her eyes again.

“Less than that,” she smiles faintly, as though she had heard what his stomach had done in the timbre of his voice. “Acquaintances, really. I partially despised his arrogance, even when we were children… but even still, I knew him, Haymitch. I played tag with him in our gardens. I danced with him at balls. We congratulated each other with bouquets and champagne bottles when we both assumed our respective positions. He didn’t retire. He would have never retired—Head Gamemaker was his dream job—so I searched until I chanced upon an answer that I had to live with.”

“He was dead,” Haymitch doesn’t sugar coat it, doesn't see the point in doing so.

“He was executed,” Effie amends, with unmistakable bitterness in her quiet voice, before she suddenly realizes what she has said. All of the color leaches from her face, and she presses a hand over her mouth. 

“He was a friend,” he repeats himself, reaching over again—a little awkwardly this time—and curling a hand over the one she’s still resting on top of her stomach. The spines of her knuckles peak sharply beneath his palm. “You're grieving for him.”

She nods but doesn’t take her hand from her mouth, looking faintly green. He’s starting to think that he’s taking this too far, pushing this Capitol sycophant towards and off the edge of no return, where he and so many other thousands citizens of Panem already are. But he can’t stop himself, the words spewing from him like the vomit he’s well-acquainted with from all the collective years of killing his liver.

“I know what it’s like,” he shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “I’m about to lose a lot of friends myself.”

Chaff. Seeder. Finnick. Johanna. Cecelia. Mags. Maybe even one of the kids if Plutarch can’t get them out. Maybe even both of them if his plan entirely fails. He’s not stupid enough to believe that the Head Gamemaker can make the impossible happen and save all of these victors from their imminent dooms, and he’s cynical enough to know that the cost of winning a war is going to involve losing a few battles. The other rebel victors intimately know this too, and they’ve calmly accepted their fates.

There will be no long and drawn out goodbyes over the next few days.

Just strategizing in the dark.

Exchanging notes.

Whispering secrets.

Hoping for rebellion and simultaneously understanding that they might never live to see it. Haymitch knows all of this—goddammit, he’s immersed and committed and so perfectly aware—but even still, his hand violently shakes around his glass of gin, and there’s blood on his palms again. Maysilee’s blood. He can’t stop the bleeding. He’s so sorry, Chaff. And he’s sorry, Finnick. Johanna. Seeder. Mags. Jesus, he’s sorry, Katniss, and he’s sorry, Peeta. They're both too young to be living through this shit. Wasn’t he once upon a time? Weren’t they all? There’s just too much of it, the blood. It’s bright red and sticky, and he can’t fucking do any—

Just as his gin falls away from his fumbling fingertips, he feels a pair of arms slide around his neck, slender and smooth. The glass hits the wooden floor harshly, exploding into innumerable shards—so much damage bisecting Maysilee's neck, the artery clearly nicked, and the eruption from the volcano, he's gotta find high ground quick, is that what flesh smells like when it's fucking burning?!—but there’s a chin resting against his shoulder preventing him from immediately assessing his immediate surroundings. The foul-smelling alcohol seeps unpleasantly into his shoes—all the water sources in the arena are poisonous, everything except the rain, tributes twitching on the ground, their skin an unnatural shade of blue. He's so thirsty. Just one sip wouldn't hurt...? District 12 tributes aren't supposed to live this long anyway...

The mouth pressed into the skin beneath his ear is unbothered.

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispers against his jaw, her manicured fingertips curling into the nape of his neck, and the gesture grounds him in the same way booze makes it all sort of float of way.

“You’re bleeding,” he says numbly, his quivering fingertips finding purchase in her nightshirt. He’s looking down at her white leg, where shrapnel grazed the side of it, leaving pops of bright blood.

“That’s something I can handle,” she returns gently, but surely she must be crying again. He can feel a telltale wetness against the column of his throat.

“And me?” He rasps, burying his own face into Effie’s bony shoulder so he doesn’t have to look at the blood anymore.

Her blood. Maysilee’s blood. Katniss’s. Peeta's. Chaff's. Seeder's. Johanna's. Finnick's. He held his own guts in his stomach—waiting for District 1 to come and find him—and felt his intestines slide against the crumbling wall of his abdomen.

“How do I handle it?”

“It’s merely a simple scrape, Haymitch,” she says it dubiously, like she already knows that’s not what he’s talking about. 

“It never fucking is,” he growls, so relieved that he can’t see her face, already itching for another bottle, something to burn all these feelings away, to scald himself alive. But even in the midst of his sick cravings, he’s aware of a strangely gentle sensation along his scalp: Effie running her fingers through his hair—slowly, rhythmically, and smoothly. “Don’t pretend otherwise. This is just the pre-show for everything to come.”

He’s not sure if it’s fatalism or a subtle warning.

Maybe even both.

Probably both.

“Scrapes don’t have to become open wounds, Haymitch,” she insists fiercely, still clearly holding on to the delusional hope that none of this is actually happening: the danger, the Quarter Quell, the blood.

“And seventeen-year olds don’t have to become mockingjays,” he snarls into the sleek silk of her shirt and feels the desired effect course through Effie’s entire body almost instantaneously. She freezes in his arms, all ceramic and glass and an inhalation of utter shock.

A squeak and then absolutely nothing. She stops carding her fingers through his wiry, unwashed hair but but doesn’t let him go—even though she could—and he inhales the scent of her, all flowers and other lovely things that have no place in this godawful world.

Effie Trinket.

She scarcely knows that the world is godawful to begin with.

“Don’t say that,” she breathes, her heartbeat thrumming against his chest, quick and erratic, like the flapping of a bird’s wings.

“Why?” He tests and he provokes her. He resists the wild urge to press a kiss against her collarbone, where it sharply protrudes from the rumpled collar of her shirt.

“Because like you said, then the quiet part becomes loud.”

“Real,” he viciously offers her the exact word.

“Yes.” And he’s thoroughly surprised that Effie actually accepts it, though the sound is nearly unintelligible in the back of her throat.

But maybe she has no choice to otherwise. 

When he experiences rather than hears her wince, all her willowy limbs tightening against his own, Haymitch finally uncloses his bleary eyes and immediately sees all the blood, how it spirals down her shin in lovely ribbons—both beautiful and terrible to behold.

His fault. 

How many people?

His family.

His friends.

His fellow victors. He can't save them all.

District 12's stylists and prep teams.

Effie herself.

He might not be able to save fucking any of them.

His fault.

"Sorry," he chokes out as she wordlessly cradles his head to her chest, holding him and all of his endless horror; he doesn't think he's ever been held like this before, not since his mother was still alive, and he was just a gap-toothed boy scraping his knees on coal piles in the Seam. At the mere thought of her—the first person in the world who had ever loved him—hot tears prick his eyes and assault the sunken hollows of his face, dampening Effie's beautiful shirt.

"Sorry," he says again, even though he knows it's not sufficient; she could be dead three weeks from now, and she doesn't know it. Or maybe she does. Maybe it's all becoming real now. 

"Shh," she murmurs, easing the tortured syllable into his hair, and it is is not absolution. It could never be for either of them.

They are what they are, him and Effie Trinket.

There is no making up for the monsters they have become.

"Shh," she consoles him anyway and all the same.

#hayffie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #the hunger games #catching fire #f: thg #reginianwrites #all of my writing has been about indulging childhood nostalgia lately

[ashanimus]

I got invited to Renfaire for fantasy weekend at the last minute this year by an old friend and it's been the first time in years that I've been strong enough to go to an event like this without the risk of incapacitation for 8+ days or after. I have a weird immune condition that reacts to stress but also physical pressure and makes all this horrific, immobilizing, on fire-inflammation when it's triggered (this is important for later). Wearing heeled shoes almost invariably do this, even short, comfy ones.

I haven't cosplayed since the Homestuck Days but I was insanely excited to go and despite the strictures of a newish full time job (when does a job stop being new? I still feel new. Ive been at this for almost four months? Feck). Now, one thing my friends know of me is that when it comes to creative things, the unhealthful combination of insecurity and vanity make it near impossible for me to not over-commit myself to an artistic folly.

So I quickly assembled a Very Cool Classic-ish Satyr costume. It includes these great furry legs with a fun little tail. I got an awesome black huipil with hand embroidered flowers on it, a cool little corsety belt. Ears and little deer horns that were brown with silver tips. Did nails to match. I had fangs in, red contacts to match the flowers on my huipil.

And then there were. The hooves.

They are made out of tall, heavy bottomed pumps with the heel sawed off. The hoof part is made of heavy resin with hot glue for traction. So you're on the balls of your feet without the heel, which is fine for flat surfaces. Flat.

My stupid ass thought it was a great idea to wear these to Renfaire. I have never been. But I was warned by concerned experienced people at the costume supply store where I picked up a staff real quick (because it did take me like three weeks to realize I'd ASSUREDLY need one for balance to walk extended distance) that the site this year was a bumpy field full of loose gravel and dust. I have a high pain tolerance! I want compliments.

The walk from our parking space to the fair itself was excruciating. It wasn't painful--yet--just slow going and stupid because as sure-footed as I am I had to be careful to not roll and break my god damn ankles because of the hilly, pockmarked field where the divots are hidden by hay, grass and gravel.

I walked over a mile and a half in these things over that terrain. I sure got my fucking compliments!! Concerned merchants asked me to sit on their couches (I did). People took pictures, little kids liked my hooves. But I ended up needing a trip to the first aid tent because I developed a savage blister that with all the dust needed cleaning and the Reaction on the other foot. My friend, the fairy queen and my handler for all intents and purposes plopped me at the bleachers where they were doing the jousts and horse stuff for an hour to go get the backup outfit (and it gave her a chance to wander freely at not a glacial pace and catch up with some of her people).

I knew I was going to Suffer so I was in for a penny in for a pound. But all of this is just the precursor to the more succinct truth of the experience. I was smiling the whole time because everyone, even in the blistering heat, was SO happy to be there.

Ive never seen such unfettered and shirtless joy at an event. Everyone of every age, every size from tiny little ones bouncing with their fairy wings to ancient grannies tottering around in shiny wire crowns and trailing gowns in the white dust. Fat and thin alike people wearing resplendent outfits furnished with body paint and chains with big old thigh slits and intense makeup. Mermaids with glittering tails and wheelchairs fashioned into shelled thrones, druids with a private forest festooning their walkers. Everyone yelling, singing, everyone playing and committing to the bit and having a grand old time. It made everyone, absolutely everyone in melting makeup and beginning stages of sunburn absolutely beautiful!

One of of the merchants I liked best was standing outside his and his partners tent--some kind of clothier making beautiful jackets. He had this great druid beard and playful blue eyes, and he stopped me as we were walking and earnestly approached me with, "Have you seen the coat we made for you? :3 and pulling a coat about my size off the rack, "As you can see there's a slit in the back, perfect for your tail!"

And breaking character for a second he was like "Seriously, regardless of if you get anything you're always free to use our couch to rest."

Everything was so gosh darned cute. Everyone was so unashamed and having fun. I got to do a Haggle on behalf of my much shyer friend. Since i was already in for pain I thought I'd try mead and see how my system handled it and it was fine! I got halfway to tipsy in the sweltering shadow of the beer garden and screamed myself hoarse (as you do! Being a good audience member is the least one can do for any performance! Clap and scream!!) in the stands at the joust where hot men on horses performed some genuinely incredible and dangerous combat re-enactments.

Today, I can barely walk and I have reactivity on my left hand because of how hard I had to hold my staff. So Im staying back in shady spots today with a wifi hotspot (SINCE APPARENTLY VERIZON DOESNT HAVE SERVICE OUT HERE?? THE ONLY PROVIDER THAT DOESNT). But man. Absolutely worth it. I want to go again so badly, with more friends for another few days of exuberant crafts, and play in this magical place of creativity yess--but its a magical little kingdom absent of shame.

#renaissance faire

[praise-mammon-titties]

A group session

TW: full on porn, degradation, double penetration and other things that could possibly be triggering. This is ALL consensual btw

An unknown demon was mad at Mammon. He was thousands of dollars in debt to him and also missing some very expensive earrings and everyone knows Mammon loves shiny stuff so it was obviously him who stole it. He needed his revenge. Pacing around the purple halls of his home. A sudden lustful sense of hate his mind comes up with a deed so evil, a deed so stupid, it would work.

Step 1: frame mammon for stealing

Step 2: anonymously post the old vids online

Step 3: make Solomon  jealous

Step 4: convince Mammon to come with him to the strip club

An evil grin slips onto his lips.

~~~~

Barbatos entered the castle treasury, worried for he felt as if someone had been in here, someone that was not meant to be here. It annoyed him to a great degrees and whoever had the balls to invade this room must surely want a world of pain. oh wait he knew. The butler picked up the distinctive white hair. "Well well Well...old habits surely die hard"

~~~~

Coming across porn videos made by Mammon was something Mephistopheles never imagined in his long lifetime. Never thought that that would have ever existed ever. Never considered the possibility of that existing. But here he was, Dick in hand, watching one with a very strong desire. Man he wished he was the person fucking his brains out, he wished the greed demon was handcuffed to HIS bed, with HIS Dick in that tight asshole. Fuck...

But his little session had been ruined when he recived a call from Barbatos, the sneaky little bitch barbie, with an idea so evil it will complete his desire. "I'm in" he says right before hanging up, then cleaning up with a strong sense of enthusiasm.

~~~~

Getting a call from Asmodeus this late into the night never was his plan. Actually he wanted to sleep early but here he was on the phone with his her close friend and pact demon, discussing some meters like nails makeup and other boring this he never paid any mind to. "MC and mammon have been getting very close lately, actually he's been eating their cooking. Even saying it's good so weird. Oh and they got him a charm, a ruby, and they've been doing tarot readings for an hour. sure it's a joke and all but really- it's saying something when he does it with them and not you." you could hear the smugness and oh was Solomon jealous. He was fuming jealous! How dare that human try to take away HIS Mammon! This was unacceptable and he needed to remember who he had belonged to. Damnit Solomon knew he should have made a pact with him. "Anyway I'll be taking him to the local strip club tomorrow. don't come" Then he recived a call from Barbatos.

~~~~

"Please mammon come to the strip club with me it'll be fun" "but asmo buddy those places are filled with horny men and women who want nothing to do but get a quick fuck outta someone like you, or another demon. Sure I've gone before and all but it's not all that fun. Besides I wanna go gambling" "if you come with me I'll convince Diavolo and Lucifer to give you their credit cards. + goldie" "Fine you gotta deal"

~~~~

Mammon didn't know how it had gotten to this point. Finding himself on that stage showing off his sexy body while men and women threw countless amounts of money at him cheering for more. Pole dancing removing his articles of clothing watching as the crowd grew more and more horny and feeling so much pride. But then...Then he spots them. His boyfriend, it's hard to miss. Not when it consisted of he demon prince, his butler, the immortal human wizard, and the prince's childhood best friend that's hated by his older brother. Oh the embarrassment he felt at this moment. He dare not look at them while he's still on stage until his shift was over, where he tries to sneak out through the back only to be stopped. "Hello dear, we were looking allover for you" says Barbatos with a voice a little too sweet. "Oh heeyyy uh.....didn't think I'd find all of you here haha..see I'm here with asmo and he ditched me so I gotta go look for him-" get cut off. "Nono it's alright deary. Actually we've been meaning to have a little chat"Mammon finds himself being pulled into one of the private rooms with a massive bed just for customers who paid extra just to yknow do the dead with a worker. "Look guys- I know it might seem like I show off all the time, really I don't even work here- that was like a one time thing honestly-" his protests go ignored, instead mammon finds himself being handcuffed then pushed onto the bed. Considering how mammon was pratcally naked at this point all they had to wonder remove Mammon's boxers to reveal his hard he had been. Of course he is the man's a masochist. "Aww he's already so hard" gushes diavolo, joining mammon on the bed holding him by the waist then roceding to kissing his neck allover before finding s good spot an bitting into it. This leaves a bitemark s deep it causes bleeding.  Not a shit ton but yknow.

meanwhile the others had begun to remove their clothes, with mammon being made to watch every second of it. He gulps. They were all rock fucking solid which things the realization he's probably wousknt be able to walk for a while, a week? Maybe a month of 2? Considering this wasn't with just Barbatos or diavolo it's likely be longer than that! Diavolo would then proceed to bend Mammon over his lap. Rubbing his are gently at first before giving it  a loud slap. "Dia whyyy" he whined. "Well Mammon. You see, we're punishing you for your crimes dear" explains the prince. continuing to spank the demon over and over, leading to mammon whining every time, for it hurt but in such a good way. "really Mammon. Stealing from the castle, I thought we trained you out of that," he chuckles, placing a kiss on the speedy masochist's shoulder. 

After a while, Dia would finally stop. Instead choosing to remove his own clothes then have the boy suck on his own solid cock. And God was Mammon good at it. Sucking, bobbing his head, and deep throating that thing like a professional gay porn star. Mephi grew a slight bit jealous "Hey don't to get bout me now" he says, leading to Mammon giving him and in turn Solomon a hand job all while Barbatos watched on. Turned on like the sadist he was. eventually, Barbs chose to enter the smaller demon, not even bothering with lube cuz tbh mammon doesn't need it.

"Look at you" he grunts. "Sucking on cock while your slutty ass is being fucked hard." Another hard thrust. "You truly are made to be fucked" comments Solomon. Who was now the one getting sucked off. After a while Barbatos would cum inside whilst com gushed down Mr greedy's throat and splurged onto his face/hair. "Gee guys that was ho- woah wait wait-!  Nghhhh~ holy hell~" meph was next to push into Mammon, using his hands to spread his legs wide and hold them up, just as Diavolo enters with him. Both men would proceed to thrust in and out of him, at different intervals but with the same strength and speed. "Mmm~ fuckkk. I can't believe you'd rip me open like that" whined mammon, tears now filled his face. "Oh don't worry little crow we'll pay for your medical bill" oh how mammon wanted to slap the shit outta Solomon right there.

Keeping their boyfriend quiet was hard. Especially with him getting his brains fucked out by 2 dicks recently bullying his prostate but somehow they do. Likely having to do with the fact he's been sucking on dicks the whole find but yknow. when the pair finally pull out after both cumming into his ass Solomon would enter. Holding the demon by the neck, tight enough to the point it chokes but gentle enough so it couldn't cause any injury of any kind. his brain hazy and focused on one thing and one thing only as he hit all the sweet parts that could make even someone so used to getting fucked over howl. The way Mammon's beautiful body moved in ways once thought impossible, just because it could. Was he really that fucking flexible? beautiful absolutely beautiful.

Eventually like everyone else Solomon would cum inside. This left a mix of cum from litterally all of them inside of mammon, and being the selfish male he was, he'd grab a butt plugs and unplug up the speed demon.solomon would the now exhausted demon close and all of them would cuddle. WELL after yknow cleaning the mess they had made. Barbatos would chuckle a little.

~~~~

"My we seemed to have made a mess outta him" said the ever sadistic butler, kissing Mammon's head. "Mm..you owe me ur credit cards otherwise I'm kicking all ur damned asses!" "Yes of course honey, do whatever you want with them" replied Diavolo kissing his head.

~~~~

A/N: normally I wouldn't write something like this but yknow I was fucking possessed with something while writing this. Sorry if anyone got triggered when reading, and also I promise I'll post part 2 of pure fluff later. just at this very moment I'm tired and working on another smut fix that should be released some point this week. Also btw Asmo wasn't apart of the unknown demon's plans ;-;

#obey me smut #obey me lemon #barbatos x mammon #barbmon #bottom mammon #mammon x barbatos #obey me barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me ships #om! barbatos #om! mammon #om! diavolo #om! smut #om! solomon #om! mephistopheles #mammon harem #they're very gay #diavolo x mammon #solomon x mammon #mephistopheles x mammon #smut fanfiction #tw degredation #full on smut #you have been warned #mentions of asmo #this is all consensual #double penatration

[911nmg]

Bring me out of the dark

Chapter 3

Also published on AO3

Tw: childhood abuse

Tw: csa

Tw: eating disorders, purging

Tw: ptsd, intrusive thoughts

Control

Natasha's POV

The first act of Giselle was not simple if we’re talking technique, but the muscle memory was there, working through every arabesque, frappé and attitude turn. The uncountable hours spent fortifying my technique helped me dance even through the jumped pax de chevals without difficulty. My favorite part, however, was the madness part with its menage of chaineés tourneés.

Every girl had felt like Giselle at some point, broken-hearted to the point you think you might die. But in real life you don’t, because that would be too fucking easy.

We girls all ran to our changing rooms the second the intermission curtain came down. Some of our male colleagues went to shower and relax, their work finished for the night, others sat by the wings, both for enjoyment and to cheer us through the second act. 

Lauren, our costume assistant, helped me shed the peasant costume and get into my ghostly white and rhinestoned dress after I changed from an almost dead pair of pointe shoes to a soft but still strong one.

- Do you need anything else? - She asked with a soft smile.

- I'm all good here - I started with the makeup - Maybe Harumi needs help with the damned Mirtha’s wings.

She laughed and wished me luck.

I finished the makeup by shadowing my cheekbones in light gray, not that I needed much help looking ghostly, lack of sleep had definitely taken a toll on my body.

It had been the last variation he had coached me for, and his words and acts had awoken from deep within my bones this past month.

That night before the competition he had made me repeat all act two with weights on my ankles and wrists, and any time he had found a mistake I’d gotten a hit from his cane and had to ran the solo from the start. It should have felt wrong but instead I had slipped into his methodology with surprising ease. Dancing night after night until I collapsed into a nigtmareless sleep.

I could deal with pain, but his words, his touch, that was what had been poisoning me.

I tried to calm myself in front of the mirror, arranging carefully the white flowers in my low romantic bun, still, I could feel his warm, labored breath on my neck. One hand groping my breasts, the other one forcing my legs open. My good girl. My Natalia...

- Enough! - I punched my thigh hard enough to bruise, and took a look at the monitor above my head, Mirtha’s solo was starting, I still had some time. More than I’d need.

I washed my hands with care, soaping each and every one of my fingers, rinsing in scorching water. In a trance I kneeled by the ceramic toilet and pushed at the back of my throat with two fingers.

The threats and insults, his teeth digging on my skin, the slaps and hits that colored my body, his hands curling around my neck, the slow and reverent undressing, him taking whatever he wanted. I should had learnt earlier that if I kept my mouth shut and stayed still it would be over sooner, pity I had always been a feisty little shit.

I purged my memories until I could no longer throw up, acid and bile turning the water an ugly greenish color. My body was covered up in a cold sweat, still, I rose from the floor, washed my hands and brushed my teeth, then took a deep breath.

The moment I got on stage everything disappeared. It was me and the music. The lights were shining so bright I couldn’t see the public, much less think about them.

I floated through the steps, they were second nature. The rhythm cursed through my blood as I jumped, and turned, and swayed, my limbs moving on its own accord. I became one with the character, pleading for the love of my life not to suffer, she laughed but agreed, Mirtha did too.

When I started bowing I finally came out of my bubble and got to hear the energetic applause and the shouted bravos.

- Great job, Natasha - Thomas smiled at me - I think it was my smoothest debut yet.

- You are a great Albertch. Those entrechats had the public roaring!

- Said the queen of chaineés.

We bowed a few more times, waiting for the crow reaction to die down, before exiting the stage.

- Thanks for making it so easy, Thomas. Partnering with you.

The experienced man gave me a soft kiss on the hair - I’ll bring you some ice to your changing room, just, one minute.

- There’s no need.

- I insist. Albretch is supposed to be a gentleman.

I laughed at that, then caught a glimpse of the tiny beasts coming for him - Daddy! - They tackled him to the floor, two golden haired boys. His pregnant wife running behind them trying to get them to behave.

- Natasha - She hugged me softly - These are for you. Tom said you like them - She extended a box of warm oats and coffee cookies.

- There’s no need.

- That’s her favorite line - He teased - It’s okay you know? We want to help, and give you some tasty food, and shit like that.

He talked the kiddos into going for an ice bucket for me, and Gilda promised to send the recipe if I ever felt like making cookies. I interchanged some pleasantries with the ballet mistress and the artistic director, both content with my work, then kissed Lauren goodbye.

- Gosh, Tony!

My changing room was overflowing with flower bouquets, roses, violets, lilies, daisies, dalias, pansies and so many others I couldn't name, not even in russian.

- Looks like a flower shop exploded here.

- I have a friend who’s got too much money to burn through.

- Have a good night, girl - He placed the bucket at my feet - Don’t forget to have something nutritious before crashing onto bed!

- Kids! - I called the unruly boys before they were out of earsight - Pick a bouquet each for mama. She’s going to love getting flowers from you.

The older one waited for their father's approval, but the younger one had already chosen flowers for their mother and was running in her direction.

I iced my feet for ten minutes, then had a warm shower. Dreykov’s hands tried to snake around me, my good girl, my rising star, you did it... When the trail of kisses started to follow down my spine I just turned the water to its coldest setting and washed him away, scrubbing my skin raw and red.

My friends were all huddled together by the left stairs at the lobby, dressed in their finest, and glancing with worry at the clock.

- I’m here.

Maria was the first one to hug me, the striped pants suit she wore on special occasions creasing - You made me feel for the character, it was amazing, really.

- Thanks.

- Red - Tony kissed my hand, as a gentleman from times begone - One of the best performances of the role I’ve ever seen, you were magnificent.

I blushed hard, fighting the strange combination of pride and fear that accompanied any kind of praise. I both loved and hated it. It had always meant more for Vladimir.

- You turned my dressing room into a jungle. I’m supposed to get changed there tomorrow, you know?

- That’s Bruce’s fault.

He had the decency to look ashamed when I fulminated him with a glare - I asked on the chat who wanted to send you a bouquet and everyone said they did, and I might have gotten a little carried away. My mum had a flower shop and I just couldn’t decide...

His voice turned so bittersweet when talking about his mother that Tony embraced him and kissed his forehead with disgusting tenderness. His veiny branches used to hold me safe like that.

- So it’s everyone’s fault, noted - I kept the annoyed tone just a second longer.

- Not me - A deep smooth voice interrupted my show of petulance. It belonged to a strong build man with wavy brown shoulder length hair, deep frown and short beard - James Bucky Barnes - He extended his right hand in a movement that felt overly polite but I shook it.

- Natalia Romanova, or Natasha if you prefer the anglicized version - If he was going to give me the full name, it was polite to do the same, wasn’t it?

He chuckled, a soft smile illuminating his dark features - My pleasure.

- Now that you’ve shown you’re still a charmer, we are going to miss our reservation! - Tony’s whines took me out of the enchantment of his purring voice and the spell of his icy blue eyes.

Fuck dinner. I just wanted to drink until I could no longer think.

We walked just a few blocks to a small family owned italian restaurant decorated with photos of the motherland and bathed in warm light. There were a couple of childhood pictures of Tony in the walls, it apparently belonged to removed relatives he had great relations with. Because of course it did.

James scanned the seats in a way I recognized, deciding on best visibility while assessing possible escape routes. That's how we ended up seated side by side, Steve monitoring him, or both of us, from the opposite side of the table.

Menus came and went, I barely looked at mine before ordering a salad, knowing I would be contending with their worried glances all evening, or worse, we’d fight, with whom was still up in the air. The whole month had been a long fight over food, Maria, Sam, Steve, even Tony and Bruce had intervened. I had just lost a few pounds. Nothing to worry about.

Do not lie to me, kid! I shook his voice away by concentrating on the moment. Maria and Sam glanced playfully at each other, Tony was almost splayed across Bruce’s chest, looking kind of childlike and blissful, Peggy and T’Challa chatted away about a case and Steve failed at pretending not to watch over James. He was dripping in sweat, clearly struggling with whether or not to take his suit jacket off as everyone else had.

- Bucky, take the jacket off, you’ll overcook. Besides, it’s rented, we’re going to have to pay for dry cleaning - His friend finally encouraged.

- You didn’t have to dress up, none of you, there was no need...

- But we wanted to - He responded - Show respect for you and your profession. Even if it meant having to rent a suit jacket that I can barely move in.

Maria helped him out of the fabric, his figure turning unbalanced because of the missing arm and shoulder.

- What happened to the t-shirt pal?

It was missing a sleeve, tiny remnants of threads showing it had been torn apart.

- Felt wrong having the sleeve hanging there - He shrugged - Knits do not fray so, no need to fix it really.

- Do you know which fabrics fray? - Sam teased - Didn’t know you took home economics back in the fifties.

- More like in the army. Clothing can’t be bought online in Herat you know?

They had fun banter and the golden boy smiled relaxing back into his seat. He had been tense all night, waiting for something to make his friend go over the edge, yet, everything seemed to go smoothly.

I knew, though, the man next to me wasn’t really fine: he shook a little in his seat, his feet were firmly planted on the floor in case he had to hit the ground running and his eyes scanned the room and everyone at the place at a speed that almost gave me vertigo. Still, he talked, and joked, and ate.

- What do you think when you are dancing?

- I just kind of feel - I answered Bruce - I lose myself in heartbreak, sadness, supplication... Whatever the character is supposed to be feeling.

- You don’t think of the steps then? - T’Challa asked from the far left corner.

- I do when I train, I even record myself to review it, but when dancing on stage you have to rely on muscle memory and act.

- Like shooting - James muttered under his breath. Making me stifle a laugh. Just like that.

- Does it ever get taxing? Feeling so much?

- Sometimes.

The talking died down as they sank into their meals, then Sam perked up - Are your shoes made of wood?

- Wood?! - I shook my head in disbelief - They are made of fabric and glue! Almost like paper maché. Most have a strip of cardboard as a shank, but I three quarter shank my shoes to show my arches.

- You’ve lost me after the paper maché thing.

I motioned to Steve to pass me my bag and took one of the now too soft shoes out.

I peeled the sole back and showed them the cut strip of cardboard, then placed the shoe over my palm and allowed it to take its shape - The place where it bends coincides with the arch of my foot inside, that way the movement is more fluid and it shows my lines better.

- What’s the sewn thing? - Steve pointed to the darning on the box.

- I use russian pointes...

- Of course she does - Tony muttered.

- They have narrower bases compared to other styles so most users darn around to get a bit more surface to balance on. It also keeps the satin I cut off the box from fraying.

- So you go on your tiptoes on glue and fabric alone... You must have super strong feet.

- And unsightly as well, all covered in blisters and calluses.

- They’re not that bad! - Maria interjected.

- Key word being “that”.

They laughed and I relaxed, taking another bite from my plate.

- Dream role? - Steve had long ago finished his meal. Most of them had. And was sketching on the paper napkin while participating in the conversation.

- I would like to dance Swan Queen of course, but I don’t have a dream role apart from that.

- Not even a role choreographed to you?

- This man is unreal - Sam protested - Do you also know about ballet?

James just gave him an unimpressed smile before turning back to me, his eyes stopping for a second the analysis of our surroundings.

- That's every ballet dancer's dream. Mine included.

- You’ll get your chance, Red. You still have a long career ahead. If you don’t starve yourself to death before, of course.

They all stared, waiting for an outburst that wouldn’t arrive. A ballerina is above everything controlled.

- I’m not doing this guys. Not tonight - I rose from my chair and snatched my bag from Steve’s hands. Throwing the shoe haphazardly inside then turning towards my flatmate - Don’t wait awake for me, I’m going out.

- Nat, wait!

But I was already on the street, ready to go from sober to drunk, from girl to woman, from passive to active.

Salt, burning tequila, I gritted my teeth and bit down on a lemon.

Salt, alcoholic relief, acid lemon.

Salt, tequila, lemon.

Salt, tequila, lemon.

My tongue felt numb, my fingers, cold and sticky, held high the tiny glass, getting the bartender's attention - Another shot.

He had asked for my id and said nothing else, refilling my drink each and every time I asked. Not anymore.

- You sure want to drink more?

Deep voice, dark haired, facial stubble, well built... He was definitely my type.

I just shook the glass in the air and smiled, far from tipsy, enjoying the way the neon lights turned the transparent liquid into green venom that would kill my worries, red to replenish my blood, black to exorcize my demons.

- We’ll be closing soon.

I hummed my acceptance of the fact, drowning another shot and raising my glass again.

- Where does a girl go around here when she’s looking for fun? - I enunciated clearly, his eyes on my lips, my tone both innocent and enticing.

- Which kind of fun? - And there was an edge to his voice as well.

- Drink, dance... Those kinds of things.

He glanced at the clock behind the counter - At this hour, nowhere.

One, two, three...

- I have some nice speakers at my apartment though. I’ll even let you choose the music.

- How thoughtful of you.

He made a mate close as I paid the tab, and walked a mere block. He was kissing me before the elevator doors opened on his floor.

My back to the door, he fumbled with the keys before pushing us both in.

I lost myself in the voracious kisses, one of my hands trailing up his side, behind his shoulder, taking light hold of his hair, the other tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen as he undressed himself.

- If you keep touching me like that we are not getting to the bed.

- Maybe I don’t want that - I whispered to his ear, licking my way to his neck before nibbling at his skin.

He held me against the wall, my hands pinned over my head as he pulled down my skirt.

We lost my blouse and his pants on the way to the couch, its vinyl squeaking as we laid there.

He used to push me down, ignoring my pleas for him to stop, trapping me under his large body. You provoke me! Stop saying no!

Ben, if I recalled his name correctly, sucked on my nipples with care, brushing lightly my hip bones with big strong hands.

- Do you have a condom?

- Nightstand.

- Go for it. And leave those boxers behind! - I added - I want to enjoy that ass.

He laughed boyishly and came back in an instant, rolling it on.

- Sit - I ordered. Taking my remaining underwear off and sitting on his lap, lowering myself on him, a nice firm pressure between my legs.

I started moving slowly, rocking my hips back and forth as he got deeper in me, enjoying the sloppy kisses he pressed to my shoulders and the way his hands grabbed my ass.

He never minded whether I was ready or not, whether I was in pain, whether I was enjoying it. You know you like it!

I kept on riding him, pressure building at a steady pace - God... Natasha, it feels so good.

You feel so good my girl.

I sank my teeth on his lips, drawing blood, contracting around him until I pushed him over the edge, his thrusts accelerating - Natasha don’t stop, please...

One of his hands found his way to my clit, rubbing crazed circles as he pounded in me, moaning.

- I have to say I love my choice of music - I teased at his moaning. He just kissed me harder, pushed harder, rubbed faster, making me unravel as well under his ministrations. Waves of warm pleasure rocking me whole.

#bring me out of the dark #buckynat #winterwidow #normal life au #fanfiction