#LED screen trailers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

Text

Seeking Salvation

Label Mature 18+

Summary spiritually broken, lost, and living in a world turning to chaos, you seek refuge at Peak Ranch, where the charismatic cult leader Vernon Jefferson Peak takes you as his chosen one, stripping you to your core to rebuild you as his own.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Cult leader x curious girl •temptation• ulterior motives• brainwashing • persona splitting • chosen one •isolation • indoctrination• celibacy •sacred union • body worship • talks you though it •nipple play•clit play• fingering • stretch fingering • simultaneous stimulation • multiple orgasm denials• squirting• p in v • lotus pose • devine orgasm • cream pie •after care

📖 Proof readers / plot consultants @peggyao3 @eternal-love ✨ Inspo multiple DMs comments & requests, nine seconds of a trailer clip.

Seeking Salvation

You were never one to follow blindly. Restless, curious, always chasing something just out of reach, that was you.

You lived in a place where everyone had a plan for you, their voices a chorus of shoulds and musts that drowned out your own.

You were always, too defiant and sharp-witted with a heart guarded just enough to survive, and when the weight of their expectations pressed in, you left.

You left in search of your purpose, your meaning in life, only to discover the world was just a bigger cage, lined with obligations and responsibilities.

You sought solace online, scrolling through endless social media content seeking something that resonated in a sea of voices.

That’s where you first found Vernon Jefferson Peak.

His words were clipped from a speech about freedom, rebirth, shedding expectations. It hit like arrows, piercing the armor you’d built.

You’d watch his videos late at night, your phone glowing in the dark, his voice a quiet storm that stirred something deep.

He wasn’t like the others, peddling quick fixes or hollow promises. He spoke like he saw you, like he knew the ache you couldn’t name.

In those clips, he was striking, his messy blonde hair, and handsome features expressing so passionately, but it was his eyes that drew you in. Blue and intense, like they could see right through the lies.

You’d pause the screen staring a him, wondering what it’d be like to feel that gaze in person.

You weren’t a follower, not yet, just curious, drawn in to the way he seemed to be both dangerous and divine, a paradox wrapped in white shirts and casual suits.

Your curiosity led you to one of his gatherings, a makeshift auditorium filled with restless bodies. The world outside was unraveling, masks, lockdowns, fear, but here Vernon Jefferson Peak was a beacon, a voice in the chaos of uncertainty.

As you gather among a sea of countless others you feel your pulse quicken with anticipation, a spark of something raw and real, like you’re teetering on the brink of revelation.

You linger at the back, your fingers pulling at the edges of your sleeves, caught between curiosity and unease, as your heart races with the promise of finally seeing those blue eyes in person.

You’re not here to become one of his followers, you just want to see him, to know if the man matches the myth.

The stage is bare worn wood, with an orange and yellow backdrop spreading like rays of sun, with a single spotlight that seems to bend toward him, as if even the light can’t resist.

As Vernon steps forward, the crowd goes still. His sandy blonde hair is messy and long, falling to his nape in soft, defiant waves.

His blue eyes are a paradox, calm yet searing, like a sky hiding a storm, his full lips and strong jaw framing a face that feels both angelic and dangerous.

His white shirt beneath his matching blazer hangs loose, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a glimpse of ink, the edges of wings expanding across his chest.

At the hollow of his throat, a small tattooed happy face stares out, jarring in its simplicity against the intensity of him. He is untamed, physical perfection to behold, but it’s the impact of his aura, that truly holds your captivation.

“The world teaches you fear,” Vernon says, his voice a low, velvet cadence that weaves through the air like whispered truth. “Your leaders teach you guilt.” He steps to the stage’s edge, peering out. “Your body is uncertain, weary, carrying the weight of those expectations. Your pain is not a coincidence. We are not a coincidence.”

His blue eyes find yours immediately in the crowd. Not wandering, not by chance, they find you pinning you in place, and you’re unable to look away.

In that moment, you feel seen, not your face, not your clothes, but the raw, hidden truth beneath your skin. The truth you’ve spent years burying.

You find him just after the crowd has started to disperse. He’s standing at the edge of the stage, tall and still, his white shirt open at the collar beneath his white blazer. He’s mesmerizing, not just in how he looks, but in how he commands the space around him.

His gaze meets yours and he doesn’t quite smile, but his eyes… they admire you. Not in a way that feels performative or polite but in a way that feels deep, private, like he’s seeing something you didn’t even know was there.

You hesitate before you step closer. “I wasn’t sure if I should come over,” you admit, your voice low, uncertain. “But I wanted to thank you, the things you teach really resonate with me.”

He studies you for a moment, then tilts his head just slightly. “I know the look in your eyes.” He confirms his expression shifting still unreadable, but slightly softer. “You’ve been living in pieces, haven’t you? Never fully allowed to be whole.”

The words strike you deeper than they should and your eyes widen.

“I don’t know how you…” you trail off, suddenly unsure how to explain the way his voice touches places inside you that no one else ever has.

He steps closer, his presence quiet but absolute. “You don’t need to explain,” he says gently his eyes lowering to your heart. “You just need to explore what’s already there… what’s been aching to be found.”

He looks back up and your eyes lock, his stare is calm, unwavering… hypnotic, reaching into you with nothing but his presence.

He leans in slightly just near your ear, his voice low and intimate. “Come to Peak Ranch,” he says, and as he pulls back, something inside of you opens without resistance, like a silent agreement has already been made.

You don’t intend to follow him, not really, but you know the invitation to join him at Peak Ranch is always there, lingering, waiting and all you have to do is ask.

The weeks blur as the world outside becomes sharper, crueler. Lockdowns begin, news flashes scream mandates, pandemics, hoarders empty shelves, offices shutter, schools close, and hospitals overflow.

It feels like doomsday the way panic spreads so widely, and as the fear of the unknown seeps in and the world is thrown into chaos, you finally choose to seek the solace in the haven Vernon promised.

Peak Ranch is a sanctuary sprawled across wildflower fields, with open skies, and wooden cabins, a valley of abundance hidden in the middle of nowhere.

His followers move with purpose, tending gardens, building structures, their faces lit with something you can’t quite name…devotion… or maybe even fulfillment.

You plan to stay here, hidden from the chaos of the outside world for as long as you can, even though you don’t know how long that will be.

As the days weave into weeks , Peak ranch finds you.

You savor the simple structure, rising with the sun, sharing meals, tending the earth.

You lie in the grass midday, the blades tickling your skin, the sky above endless and free, a stark contrast to the cage of the city.

You swim in the hot springs and lake, the pure water washing away the weight of fear, each ripple a retreat from the world’s clamor.

Here, time slows, and you breathe easier, as if the ranch itself is a safe haven carved out from the madness you no longer hear beyond.

Vernon is everywhere, a vision in white shirts or casual suits, the fabrics tailored but relaxed, his tattoos teasing at the edges of his collar. Those wings, always half-seen, remain a mystery you can’t quite unravel, their curves a silent promise that pulls at your curiosity.

He holds small sermons daily, often at dawn or dusk, gathering followers under the open sky or beneath a large wooden pavilion.

One evening, as the sun dips low, painting the wildflowers gold, he stands before the group, his blue eyes scanning the crowd as he speaks, and every time they land on you the weight of his gaze feels like a hand resting on your soul.

“You’ve all been taught to shrink,” he says, his voice a low, velvet tide that washes over you, warm and commanding. “To fold yourselves into shapes that fit the world, to be small, obedient, afraid.” He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours, “But you’re not small. You’re vast and boundless, waiting to break free to let go of the lies and discover the truth.”

His words hit deep, stirring the restlessness you’ve carried since the ache you felt scrolling his videos.

He makes you feel exposed, yet alive, like he’s speaking only to you, pulling back layers you didn’t know you had.

Your fingers curl into the grass where you sit, a flush creeping up your cheeks. You want to believe him, to step into that vastness he sees, and the way he watches you it makes you think he believes it too.

He observes you with quiet patience over the next few days, like a sculptor studying stone, his blue eyes tracing your movements with a veiled intensity.

One afternoon, as you kneel in the garden, tending rows of blooming herbs, your fingers brushing the soft leaves and rich soil, he approaches.

His white shirt is loose, the tattooed wings peeking from his chest and his messy blonde hair catches the light like a tarnished halo as he stands over you.

“You nurture life so effortlessly,” he says, his voice low, watching you tend to the plants with care. You stand to face him, brushing dirt from your hands, your pulse quickening under his gaze.

“You’re finding your purpose here,” he says, his voice a velvet current, his blue eyes locking onto yours, like he sees every nervous spark within you.

“Yes,” you say, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere… until now.” You admit. His eyes darken, taking in your vulnerability, his lips curving just shy of a smile, like he’s savoring a secret only he knows.

“It’s because you have a higher calling,” he conveys, his voice softer like a sacred vow. “Ive always known and I can see it inside of you just waiting to be awakened.” He confirms, his voice low and reverent.

Your cheeks flush at his words, a warmth spreading through you. His praise makes you feel special, chosen, like your right where you belong.

You gaze up at him and a soft smile breaks through your usual guardedness. For the first time you feel a flicker of hope that he’s the one who will finally be able to fix what has been broken all along.

At dusk, as you make your way to your cabin, you spot him sitting barefoot on the edge of his sprawling porch. His sandy blonde hair catching the last rays of the sun, as his blue eyes track your every step across his ranch.

You wonder what goes on in the mind of a man who seems so untouchable by anyone, but the weight of his stare makes your heart race with questions you’re not ready to voice.

The next morning, when he summons you to his study, you can already feel the shift, like a current pulling you under, drawing you somewhere deeper where you won’t return from the same.

His study is austere, steeped in the faint scent of jasmine and sage. His shelves are lined and filled with leather-bound books of philosophy, and ancient texts.

Handwritten journals lie in uneven stacks on a side table next to novels marked with his name.

The high steepled windows let in slanted light, casting shadows across his large oak desk piled high with books.

The room feels instilled with his presence, every object a piece of his carefully crafted enigma.

He gestures you to sit in a velvet chair, the deep fabric soft under your thighs, and he rests a hip against his large oak desk, staring at you.

His blue eyes are soft but unyielding, his messy blonde hair falling slightly over his face as he tilts his head to study you.

His voice is smooth and steady as he speaks, each word intentional. “You’re carrying something that’s holding you back,” he finally says, leaning forward, his fingers steepled like a prayer. “What is it?”

Your throat tightens, your hands knotting in your lap, finally forced to face it. “I—I don’t really know how to say it,” you confess.

He tilts his head, the happy face tattoo on his throat shifting with the movement.

“You don’t have to say it perfectly. Just say it from here.” He reaches out, his fingers pressing your chest, just over your heart. “It’s here, isn’t it? Heavy. Like a stone.”

You swallow, his touch anchoring you as much as it unravels you and his eyes search yours, his fingers pulling back, leaving a warmth that lingers.

Then he waits, expectant, unmoving until finally the silence breaks you.

“I-I’ve always felt… wrong,” you admit, the words forcing their way out. “Like I’m not good enough. Like I’m failing..at my life at whatever I’m supposed to be doing… at even just being me….”

He nods slow and deliberate. “That’s not yours,” he says, his voice a quiet blade. “That’s what was forced upon you. Your shame, your memories, your fears … your pain ……they’re chains.” He says as his finger moves to your temple, faintly making contact. “You were never meant to be who they told you to be. Let me show you who you are beneath this skin.”

Your breath trembles. His words aren’t just words they’re a current, pulling you under. “How do you do that?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

He smiles, a flicker of something warm, almost tender. “By letting me take what was once yours.”

You want to ask what he means, but his gaze holds yours, those blue eyes a tide you can’t resist, and the question dissolves. All you can do is nod, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and longing.

The next day when you are moved from your cabin into Vernons main ranch it feels like crossing a threshold, a shift from self discovery into something deeper, more binding.

The ranch is vast, a haven of blooming meadows, and boundless skies, but in the main compound, in Vernon’s inner sanctuary it’s different.

You’re given a room on the second floor near his, simple but intimate with a single window overlooking the valley and a canopy bed draped in white linens.

Living with him brings structure and discipline something that makes you begin to feel both favored and entrapped.

He begins teaching you one-on-one, his philosophies unfolding in private sessions that blur the line between guidance and submission.

He isolates you slowly, praising your unique potential and pulling you from the group, assigning you tasks only to him, organizing his journals, tending to his personal gardens.

“You’re different,” he says, his fingers lingering on your arm as he hands you a book of his notes. “You see in me what others miss.” His praise fills you and makes you crave his approval, and you start to measure your worth by his words.

He controls your environment, limiting outside news, framing the world beyond the ranch as a place of “falsehoods” and “distractions.” “The world wants to keep you in fear,” he says, his voice sharp as he paces the study. “Here, you’re boundless. What do you need from them that you don’t already have?”

You nod, your mind softening, the ranch feels much safer than the chaos you left.

As the weeks wear on, you become devoted, hanging on his every word, his philosophies reshaping your thoughts.

You don’t notice how he’s rewiring you, how your old self, sharp, and skeptical, fades under his gaze.

He starts hinting at a deeper union, his words laced with promise. “To be one with me, is to be initiated, to be broken and remade.” he says on a night where you sit beneath a giant oak, its branches casting shadows in the moonlight, “It is the final step to freedom.” He says as he looks over at you.

Your throat tightens, a mix of awe and fear. “What does it mean… to be broken and remade?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

He smiles, slow and knowing, his fingers tracing your jaw. “It means you give me everything, your body, your mind, and your soul.”

You shiver, his words stripping you bare, realizing he doesn’t just want to have you —he wants your very existence. As your eyes meet, his hand slides to your neck, resting there, a gentle claim. “We’ll be together soon,” he says, his voice a hushed vow. “You’ll see what it means to be truly free.”

He chooses your union ceremony to fall on a moonless night. You walk down a long hall toward a black door, the air heavy with wax and rosemary, candles flickering along the floor like fallen stars.

At the end of the hall, you push open the door to reveal a room glowing by candlelight, its walls draped in soft curtains. In the dimness, you make out a full-length mirror standing in the center, and in the reflection, your thin white robe hides the pulse thrumming wildly in your chest.

Vernon enters, barefoot, his white shirt open at the collar, his hair loose and wild, the winged tips on his chest spreading like a promise, the happy face at his throat a quiet taunt.

He steps behind you, his reflection merging with your own, his presence a weight you feel in your soul.

“Tell me who you see,” he says, his voice soft, encouraging.

You stare at the mirror at your own reflection now with his. “I… I don’t know.”

“Name it,” he says, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, grounding you. “What do you feel?”

“I feel changed,” you admit , your voice cracking slightly. “From my former self.”

“Again but claim it,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear, his breath warm.

“I am changed,” you say, the words softer but certain. He nods, his fingers tightening briefly on your shoulders with approval. “Free yourself from your pain,” he says, his voice soft but commanding. “Shame your former self and watch it vanish.”

He steps back to watch, and you pour out every thing into your reflection, all your failures, your rejections, the weight of every expectation you never met. Each word feels raw and painful, but it’s unapologetically true, and as the pain shifts from guilt into release you feel like you can finally breath again.

Vernon watches you fall silent your chest heaving, laid bare, and takes the mirror, his movements graceful and methodical as he pushes it to the floor, shattering it to pieces behind its frame. The sound is jarring in the quiet, and you gasp, your body tensing.

The air becomes heavier with the scent of molten wax, rosemary, and the unfiltered silence of surrender.

The shards of the mirror glint on the floor, a chaotic mosaic reflecting your former self, broken apart to make way for the new.

“Now we can begin,” Vernon says, his voice a low vow.

He approaches you with reverence, his blue eyes locked on yours, unwavering and knowing, as if he’s peering into your very soul.

His fingers find the tie of your robe, undoing it with care, and as he slips it off your shoulders he unveils you as if you are something sacred to him.

When the fabric falls at your feet you shiver standing naked before him, not just from your body but from feeling your very essence laid bare.

He doesn’t touch you, he circles you, his blue eyes tracing your every curve with unrepressed desire.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words landing like a truth you’ve never felt before. “Come with me,” he says, extending his hand. “Let me take you where our union will set you free.”

He guides you to the back of the room, parting the curtains to reveal a smaller chamber within.

A woven mat lies encircled by candles, their flames flickering in the intimate setting, and he turns to you as he stands at the edge.

You watch as he reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning the fabric to reveal the full expanse of his tattoos, the wings spreading across his chest, stretching toward his shoulders.

His torso is lean and chiseled, every ridge taut with restrained power, and as his hands move to his waist, his fingers deftly untie the fabric, sliding it down his thighs as your eyes follow the motion.

His body is a revelation, long limbs, golden skin kissed by candlelight, and between his legs, his cock sways with each step, unapologetic, commanding.

Your eyes are drawn to it, the movement hypnotic, a primal pull that makes your thighs press together instinctively.

He is beautiful, not just in form but in the way he inhabits it, every inch radiating a quiet, terrifying power.

He crosses the small distance to you, his gaze never wavering, and he takes your hand. His touch is warm and laced with affectionate. “Come,” he says, his voice a low, a hymn.

He guides you to the mat, easing you down with a gentleness that defies the intensity in his eyes. “This is sacred,” he says, kneeling before you, his hair falling slightly over his face. “This is where we form our union.”

You lie back, your skin prickling against the woven fibers, your heart pounding as he settles above you, and his hands begin their work, trailing down your skin, slow and methodical.

“Your body is a map,” he says, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. “Every part holds a truth.”

His hands slide lower, palms warm against your chest. “Here,” he says, his fingers pressing gently, “is where you’ve hidden your love.” His hands brush the peaks of your breasts with a reverence that makes you shiver. “You’ve been taught to guard it, but I want it open.” He says.

Your nipples harden under his touch as he circles them, slow and knowing, making a sigh escape your throat. His eyes flick to yours, reading every reaction, every sound, and you feel seen, not just your body, but the raw, aching need deep inside.

He moves lower, his fingers gliding across your stomach, pausing at your navel pressing firmly into a grounding point that makes your core clench

“And here,” he says,” is where you hold your trust.” Your breaths are shallow, your hips shifting instinctively, seeking more, but he holds you in place with a look in his eyes.

His hands slide lower, his fingers pressing into your inner thighs and parting them with a care that feels ceremonial.

Your slickness is evident, your body filled with need for him, and his eyes glint with approval. “You’re already offering yourself to me,” he says, his voice laced with veneration.

His fingers trace your outer folds with featherlight strokes, teasing you in ways that make you sigh with pleasure . “This is your sacred gate,” he says, his voice hushed as he presses a single finger against your clit, holding it still.

The pressure without movement is maddening, and your hips buck, seeking friction as a whimper escapes, but he pins your thigh to the mat, his free hand forcing your surrender.

He holds you in place pressing your clit until your body twitches as you whine for relief, then he slides his finger inside of you, slow and methodical, curling it to stroke against a ridge that makes your hips writhe uncontrollably.

His thrusts are rhythmic, hypnotic, syncing with your breaths. “Feel it more,” he says, adding a second finger, stretching you gently, his thumb brushing your clit in slow, alternating circles, the varied stimulation driving you to the brink.

You can’t hold on in your current state, the sensations too powerful, too overwhelming, like a current surging through you, and your body trembles as your thighs shake, your sounds of soft gasps and desperate moans rising like a chant.

You feel yourself slipping away as your consciousness becomes tethered to his touch, his voice, his will.

Your hips surge up against his hand as you whine and just as you reach the edge, your muscles clenching, your breaths hitching, he stops, his fingers stilling inside you cutting off the pleasure flowing through.

A cry tears from your throat, your body twitching, slick and aching, your core screaming for release. “Not yet,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring reveling in your desperation.

“I want you to offer more for me.” He says. The denial is exquisite torture, filling you with such an intense need your hips rock by force, seeking relief, but he presses a hand to your stomach, holding you firmly in place, his control absolute.

You look into his blue eyes, your gaze pleading, begging, and he watches you, unyielding, until your breathing slows, your body calming despite the throbbing ache deep inside.

Then he begins again, slower, pulling his fingers all the way out to circle your clit before dipping them back inside. He does it repeatedly, alternating the depths and speed, until your hips rock against his hand and you plead to him with soft whimpers.

When he pushes in a third finger, it shocks you to your core, the fullness pinning you in place, making you unable to move.

His fingers stretch you wide, shoving in over and over again, his movements precise, scissoring, curling, and driving you to a deeper level of sensation beyond anything you’ve ever known. You choke back sobs as his thumb flicks your clit at unpredictable moments, your moans rising higher and more depraved as your body tries to lift from the mat uncontrollably.

Your moans turn into high, broken whimpers and pleas, that merge together like a desperate prayer. Your need is shameless as he reshapes you, forging you into something raw and divine.

“You’re transcending,” he whispers, his breaths syncing with your own as he pulls his fingers from you again and the emptiness causes a raw sob from your throat so helpless it sounds like it was torn from your soul.

You softly whimper feeling your core throb so painfully, and as a warm slick pools beneath you, your hands clutch the mat as if it could save you.

“Not yet“ he says his blue eyes glinting with approval . “Not until you’ve given yourself completely.”

His denial amplifies your need to a fever pitch, pushing you into a state of heightened awareness where everything feels intensified.

When he positions himself to take you, it is like reverence laced with divinity, a union of body and spirit as he settles above you, his cock heavy and hard, leaking with his desire.

“This is holy,” he says, his voice a low chant, his blue eyes locked on yours. “This is where we become one,”

He pushes into you slowly with shallow thrusts, letting you feel every inch, every pulse and your consciousness struggles to maintain, every thrust into you deeper for his devine claim.

Your breaths are short gasps, each one laced with a soft moan that breaks into a whimper. Every part of you is overstimulated and hyper aware, your pulse thundering as your hips shiver trying to take his thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” he says, his voice steady and calm, guiding you back to him, syncing your rhythms together. His cock nudges your cervix with every stroke, and as your body trembles your core clenches around him, teetering on the brink of release again.

He shifts angles, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you wider, his thrusts precise hitting a spot that makes you see stars on every stroke, and as your walls clench around him on the verge of another orgasm he stops.

“Stay with me,” he demands, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place, and your core throbs around him as your moans fracture into soft needy whimpers.

He thrusts in again alternating rhythms from shallow and quick, to long and deep, his hips slamming against you prolonging your pleasure for as long as he can.

Your sounds spiral, losing coherence, a cascade of breathless cries and choked sobs as you lose yourself entirely, your voice no longer your own but a primal echo of surrender.

Each thrust is a promise and a punishment, building a pressure so intense it feels like you’re consumed by the intensity. Your body trembles uncontrollably, your slick coating your thighs as your sounds merge with his in a symphony of moans and desperate gasps.

Your consciousness fragments into a state of pure sensation, pushed beyond the limits of flesh, your mind lost in a haze of euphoria, of exhaustion, transcending the physical into a realm where pleasure blurs into divinity.

His rhythm shifts, his thumb returning to your clit, and this time he doesn’t stop. “You’re there. Let me take you,” he says, his thumb spiraling on your clit with relentless precision and his thrusts deepen, each one striking your core with devastating accuracy until suddenly you break.

Your orgasm is cataclysmic, an inner-body experience that tears through you, your vision whiting out as your body pulsates, a raw, primal scream ripping from your throat.

It’s more than physical, it’s spiritually binding, you see the light, you see him, his face above you like a deity forged from pleasures you can’t name. He holds you through it, his movements steady, his blue eyes locked on yours, and in that moment, he’s more than a man—he’s a god, and you’re his creation.

Your slickness drenches you both, making every thrust wet and obscene as his cock glides in you with in a rhythm that’s profane.

His abs pull tight, muscles flexing as he holds your leg over his shoulder, his hips thrusting into you so hard, that each plunge drives deeper, claiming you fully, and the sounds escaping his throat are so pleasurable they cause you to moan too.

His fingers dig into your soft flesh with bruising need as he nears release, his cock pumping faster, his muscles flexing with strain. Then he slows, pulling his cock back, only to plunge in again at his deepest, his eyes never leaving yours.

Watching him climax is like the universe aligning, his face softening in divine ecstasy, his blonde hair falling in his face, the wing tattoos stark against his flushed skin. You pant beneath him, your body a trembling wreck, bound to him in this sacred act.

As he comes, he spills into you hot and thick, his release filling up your core as your walls throb faintly unable to take more. His fingers splay across your stomach, grounding himself as he ruts the last few ounces into you, and his hips stutter with the force of his release.

He lowers your leg and stays close his chest heaving as his body hovers over yours one hand resting on your stomach, sealing what he’s given you.

Your breaths are shallow, your mind still half-lost in the haze, every touch sending aftershocks through your oversensitive core.

He slowly eases out of you, his cock slick and softening, leaving a warm trickle that makes you shiver.

He doesn’t pull away, instead he lays beside you drawing you closer, his arm curling around you, his lips brushing your temple in a gesture that feels both possessive and tender.

His voice is low and sated as his blue eye search yours in the dim light. “You’re mine now,” He breathes his as fingers tighten slightly on your hip, grounding you in his words, his presence.

You nod, your throat tight, still reeling from the intensity. “ I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice raw, your body humming with the weight of what you’ve become under his touch.

The candles have nearly burned out, their wax spilling like tears, and as you lie beside him and his fingers trace your shoulder, you look into his blue eyes, and you truly want to believe in his divinity.

“You are my chosen one,” he says, his voice serene almost worshipful “Never forget who you are becoming.” He says placing a soft kiss to-your forehead.

The truth settles down like ash. Vernon hadn’t freed you. He bound you to him, to his touch, his world, his teachings. And the terrifying part is how much you want him, how much you see him as your salvation, even though deep down you know he will be your ruin.

END 🌻

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty @louisejoy86 @butlerrizz @kulturalismellektermek

177 notes · View notes

heart-eyed-love · 10 months ago

Text

Making Moves

Summary | Eddie tries to make a move on you

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing, Eddie being a typical boy, Sweet kisses :)

Word Count | 900ish

Eddie thought tonight was the perfect time to make a move. It was just you and him. No Wayne, No Hellfire, just the two of you. Alone.

You both sat in the living room of his trailer as some movie you picked played on the screen. He wasn’t really paying attention to it, he was mainly thinking about how he wanted to go about this… or maybe he’s stalling.

But every minute that passed of the movie he felt like his chance of doing this tonight was getting smaller.

Fuck, was it always this hot in here?!

He can admit he’s feeling slightly nervous. I mean last time he tried putting the moves on one of his friends, it sent her screeching away from him, and ultimately they ended up remaining friends. Yeah, it was definitely a humbling experience.

So he’d prefer if it didn’t go down that same way with you.

Which is why he’s been feeling it out, he’s been paying close attention to you and how you act around him, and based on what he’s gathered, you might feel the same.

Fuck it, he thinks. Just do it.

He simply begins moving his arm to the back of the couch behind you. Laying his arm out, and moving closer, just slightly, hoping it’s not too intense.

You had yet to notice the proximity between the two of you now. But after you suddenly get a whiff of something. Snapping your head to Eddie, brows furrowed confusedly.

It’s now you notice how close he is.

“What?” His brows are furrowed now too, different reasoning though. Scared he might be getting the wrong reaction, he withdraws his arm slightly.

And now you’re laughing.

He furrows his brows even further, “What are you laughing about?!”

“Your armpits fucking reek!” You giggle out, now holding your shirt over your nose for extra dramatics. His cheeks slightly redden and he looks at you offendedly.

“No, they don’t. Don’t be so dramatic…” He lifts his armpit to his nose and smells. Shit, maybe they did smell a little, he must have been a bit more nervous than he thought.

“Smells like you actually play sports!” You’re still giggling, and Eddie rolls his eyes at your teasing. A tiny bit embarrassed that this is what him trying to make a move led to, but whatever.

“You think this is so funny, don’t you?” He glares, and you smirk back at him.

“Obviously.” You chuckle, “I’m not sure why you were shoving your armpit in my face though…” You add teasingly.

“I wasn’t shoving it in your face, Y/n.” He deadpans. You smile at how easy it is to get him riled up.

“Sure you weren’t…”

He rolls his eyes once again, “You know what?” and he’s now pinning you down to the couch, shoving his armpit into your face forcing you to smell it, “You thought I was shoving it in your face before?!” He’s laughing now, and you squirm underneath him.

“Eddie stop!” you’re screeching, but you can’t help but giggle as well. He thinks he likes this kind of screeching way better, than the alternative of getting rejected.

Sure, the move he made might have gone unnoticed but at least he was able to make you laugh.

But has he continued playfully torturing you, you find enough strength, even through laughter, to push him off. Sending him to the floor with a ‘humph’, unexpectedly he pulls you down with him.

Falling on top of him, you sit up to look down at him, he’s rising slightly in his elbows. Silence falls around you both as you look at each other, both of your gazes soften, like there’s something unsaid that you both seem to finally understand…

He sits up a little more and you shift on top of him slightly, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your eyes widen, surprised by how forward he seems to be right now. You feel your cheeks tingle.

He then leans in a small amount, and then hesitates.

Holy Shit! Was this really happening?!

You lean in slightly too, but you hesitate as well, you want him to do it. You want him to make the final push, and he does. He lingers for a second before slowly moving his lips to yours and catching them in a soft kiss.

You melt into it immediately, sighing into the kiss as you feel his hand curl around the back of your neck. The kiss was a sweet one, not wanting to push the limits too much yet, and a soft smile spreads on your face once he pulls away gently, still close and now looking you in the eyes.

“That move was way better than the other one…”

He narrows his eyes at you, suppressing the smile that’s begging to form, “Oh? So you knew I was making a move? You just have to make everything difficult for me, don’t you?”

You smirk at him, nodding. “It’s just more fun that way…” You shrug, and he’s pulling himself out from under you, causing you to fall back on the floor. You watch him scramble to his feet, and he’s rushing off. “Hey! Where are you going?”

You’re looking up at him with softened eyes, and he feels himself softening too, before a smirk pulls at his lips, “To put more deodorant on… I have a feeling it’s gonna get a lot more steamy in here…” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly and you're already rolling your eyes.

But once he’s out of view you let the smile overtake your face, feeling the butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

Smelling foul and he still has a hold on you.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #heart-eyed-love

879 notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 10 months ago

Note

Could you write more Eddie x shy!reader it was so good! Maybe with her staying the night for the first time?

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

You stood on the porch of Eddie's trailer feeling anxiety coursing through you. You looked down at the duffel bag in your hand then back at the door that you were waiting for Eddie to answer, your anxiety getting worse as you heard his footsteps getting closer.

The door flew open and he was on the other side, a wide grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of you. It had only been a few weeks since the two of you made it official but he still got so giddy when he was around you, never able to keep that goofy grin on his face.

"C'mon in," he took you by the hand and led you inside, shutting the door behind you. "So this is the place," he gestured to the interior of the trailer and you took it in, immediately feeling comfort once you stepped inside.

"It's nice," you told him. "It feels really cozy." Eddie took that as a huge compliment. His whole life, he had been teased for living in the trailer park, but he never saw a problem with it. Just because it wasn't a house didn't mean that it wasn't a home.

"Well, I've got mac and cheese on the stove and I picked up a movie from Family Video for us to watch."

"That sounds great," you smiled and he couldn't help but mimic it, pulling you closer to him by your attached hands. He then grabbed hold of your chin with his free hand, tilting your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips.

He then grabbed hold of your duffel bag once he pulled away, leading you to his room. He pulled you inside and set your bag on his bed before turning to you, resting his hands on your waist. He then went in for another kiss, this one deeper than the one you had just shared.

Eddie was trying to take it slow with you. He knew that you had never been in a relationship and wanted to go at your pace. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable, that you were in control of the whole thing. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.

He felt your tongue swipe along his bottom lip and he panicked. In the few weeks the two of you been together, your kisses had never gotten that far. Because if they did, they could easily escalate to sex and he didn't want to pressure you into that.

But he let you in anyway, not able to resist and your tongue swirled around his, an involuntary moan falling from your lips. Eddie could feel himself getting hard at the sound of it and he quickly pulled away from you, hoping that you hadn't been able to feel it against you.

"We should stop," he said, licking his lips and you nodded, understanding that he was wanting to take things slow. You were grateful that he was willing to do so for your sake.

"You're right," you nodded again. "Did you say something about mac and cheese?"

"I did," he smiled and took you by the hand once again before leading you to the kitchen. Just like Eddie promised there was in fact a pot of the pasta sitting on the stove.

He grabbed a couple of bowls from one of the cabinets and you didn't miss how the bottom of his shirt rose, revealing his stomach. You almost wanting to reach out and touch it, but you stopped yourself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You watched him fill your bowl and he handed it to you before serving himself some and he then led you to the living room. He motioned for you to sit on the couch while he put in the movie. While it started up, Eddie sat next to you, watching you enjoy the meal he made for you as you stared at the screen. You were so adorable and he still couldn't believe that you were his. That out of everyone, you wanted to be with him.

You half expected the movie to be horror, but to your surprise, it was romcom you had told him about multiple times. You knew it wasn't his thing so it warmed your heart that he had rented it just for you.

Once you finished your dinner, the two of you snuggled up, you tucked into his side, your arms holding onto each other. You decided that you could have been happy staying there forever, wrapped up in his arms. It was the most comfortable you had been in so long and it felt like home.

The movie hadn't even reached the halfway mark when you drifted off to sleep. Eddie almost wanted to wake you up, but you just looked so cute, so at peace. So he waited until the credits rolled to carry you to bed. He scooped you up with ease and saw your eyes open slowly, a drowsy smile forming on your lips.

"I'm not ready for bed," you pouted and he just laughed.

"Clearly you are since you fell asleep."

"I don't want to," you whined.

"Think about it this way, going to bed means we get to cuddle and you love cuddles, right?" He asked and you just nodded.

"Then let's go." He carried you to his room and set you on his bed. "Is it okay if I pull out some pajamas for you?" He asked, not wanting to go through your things without your permission.

"Mhm," you nodded, scrubbing at your eyes with the backs of your hands.

Eddie opened your duffel and thankfully, your pajamas were on top. He reached for them then moved to where you were sitting, handing them to you before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once you were dressed, you joined him, your toothbrush in hand.

You both brushed your teeth and it almost seemed like you were a married couple getting ready for bed. That was something you found yourself imagining to help you fall asleep every night. And maybe if you played your cards right, in a few years, Eddie would be your fiancé.

After your teeth were brushed, you followed Eddie to the bed. You each stood on either side and got in, scooting closer to the middle where you met, getting snuggled up, pressing your chest to his and tangling your legs together.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips before clicking off the lamp behind him.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you whispered back and snuggled further into his chest beforw the two of you drifted off to sleep, both knowing that you were definitely going t make having sleepovers a regular thing.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x shy!reader

697 notes · View notes

kamiiri · 4 months ago

Text

When Nervous finally gained back the ability to open his eyes, he was relieved to find that he was no longer stuck in that terrifying black void.

But then he realized that he didn’t recognize the cluttered trailer he was standing in now either. A young boy sat alone nearby, watching cartoons on a blindingly bright television screen, seemingly unaware of Nervous’s presence.

“Son,” the booming voice Nervous had heard before called out. The cloaked creature approached him and ghosted a bony hand over the small of his back, gently guiding him outside. Nervous took one last look over his shoulder and found that the boy seemed to be staring directly at him. Could he…see him? Nervous would never find out—he’d already been led to the backyard. “It is time for you to learn your true purpose.”

#strange2 #queue #nervous subject #grim reaper #dustin broke #ts2 premades #sims 2 premades #sims premades #premade sims #the sims 4 #sims #ts4 #simblr #strangetown #pleasantview #sims 4 story #sims story #the sims

282 notes · View notes

ghouldump · 11 months ago

Note

I want to be lestats make up artist and stylist so baddddd after that trailer.

Imagine touring with him while he constantly tries to woo you.

And the fans just seeing him being flirty toward reader

SOMEBODY TAKE MY PHONE AWAY I AM NOT WELLLLLLLLLLL

Diva | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ lestat is a handful to tour with but he's also incredibly handsome and charismatic.

lmfaooo same, more rockstar lestat coming soon!

Touring with Lestat De Lioncourt was not the easiest, at least not at first. The number of makeup artists and stylists who accepted the job, before quitting was ridiculous. Everyone was terrified of him, or of making him angry, walking on eggshells around him.

You were a well-known makeup influencer, starting with tutorials, but with your renowned success, you began working with celebrities, doing makeup, or simply styling them. When you were contacted by his manager, offering twice as much as others, explaining he couldn't keep a stylist or makeup artist, you accepted. You had dealt with plenty of other celebrities in the past, with even more diva tendencies, so you weren't going to let some rockstar ruin your coins.

Meeting him, you immediately realized two things, one, he was even more handsome off-screen, and two, he acted as if everyone was insufferable, like he was gracing their presence, doing them a favor.

“Can we get some makeup on him,” the director told you, picking up the pallet and brush, moving to his cheek, he scoffed.

“Does it look like I need makeup?” he asked you, while you rolled your eyes.

“Actually, yes, you could use some lipgloss and highlight,” you said, matching his tone. Everyone grew quiet, watching the interaction. He turned his head, looking at you, before smirking.

“You may,” he said, letting you lift his head, and apply the highlight, before taking a thinner brush and dabbing the tinted lipgloss onto his lips.

“Better?” he asked you.

“Much better,” you grinned, walking away.

“I like her,” he said, adjusting in the chair.

Instantly after, you were offered a contract, the first in nearly twenty artists to be able to lift a brush to his skin, they needed you. As the tour began, he continued with the shenanigans seducing the audience, while managing to keep them terrified.

“Sit still, I hope you don't frown at your fans like that,” you told him, as you clamped the necklace around his neck.

“And who did your hair?”

“He did,” his assistant mumbled.

“I can tell”

“Is something wrong with my hair?” he stared at you through the mirror.

“Nope, it fits you, wild and untamed,” you snickered, as you moved in front of him, using a brush to apply glitter to his face. Using your finger, you rubbed a bit on his chest.

“You know I enjoy when you touch me there, ma chérie,” he said.

“Whatever,” you laughed, finishing his look.

Over the last few months, Lestat became increasingly bold with his flirtation with you. Hell, besides his manager, you're the only person on his team that he talked to, with eye contact.

“They're ready for you,” His assistant said, reading a text from her phone. Standing, Lestat kept his eyes set on you.

“Come, we haven't finished our conversation,” he held out his hand, stopping you as you were about to put away the makeup.

Taking his hand, he led you out of the trailer, his arm going around your neck to pull you closer.

“What is it?” you asked him, biting back your smile.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

After touring the States, he was set to go on a world tour, and he insisted that you renew your contract to come along.

“I don't know, that's a long time, Les,” you said lowly, intertwining your fingers with the hand over your shoulder.

“I’ll need my makeup done and only the best clothing”

“I thought you didn't need makeup?”

“I don't, but only you could do the task so beautifully, I wouldn't dare let one of those amateurs near me,” he frowned.

“Oh my god, there he goes,” a fan screamed, causing an uproar. Lestat remained unfazed, his arm still around you, his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Is that his girlfriend?”

“He has a girlfriend? I thought he was gay”

“No girl, he's bi”

“Then I still have a chance!”

“They're so cute together”

“You’re going to have us in blogs in the morning,” you told him.

“All publicity is good publicity,” he shrugged.

“We’ll talk more later,” you told him, rubbing your lips together, when you realized he was staring at them.

“Hopefully about you staying with me, and not wanting to go home”

“You need to focus on your concert right now, and we can talk later,” you laughed.

“Fine, make sure to scream extra loud for me, ma chérie,” he said, blowing a kiss to you, before walking up the steps, the loud music starting up.

Crossing your arms, you watched as he performed, his aura exuding sex appeal. After all these months of working with him, you could see why he acted as if he was gracing people with his presence. He was more handsome than most, the attention falling on him wherever he went, and here he was, openly desiring you.

Late nights, after he'd come back from doing whatever, he'd come to your hotel rooms. You eventually realized that on the inside of this beautiful man, was a lonely soul. He craved companionship and being around him, you didn't know how much more you could take before you gave into temptation.

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv

682 notes · View notes

hail-dondus · 7 months ago

Text

Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I was fortunate enough to watch Gladiator II at the Royal Global premiere at Leicester Square last night (Wednesday 13th November) and I NEED to share some thoughts but there are definitely some spoilers, so…

I cannot stress this enough:

THERE ❗️ ARE ❗️ SPOILERS ❗️ BELOW ❗️ THE ❗️ CUT ❗️

Once again

⚠️ DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR II ⚠️

There’s probably things I’m missing/forgetting right off the top of my head, and I might be paraphrasing/summarising some dialogue. I definitely need to rewatch it when I’m NOT super close to an IMAX cinema screen because I spent the whole movie with my neck craned backwards and my eyes darting everywhere because I was trying to take it all in.

Anyway, without further ado:

The opening credits were very beautiful, it recounted the plot of the original film but kind of like in the style of the opening credits of Pillars of the Earth? I don’t know if that makes sense 😭

If I remember correctly, Joseph is billed third behind Paul and Pedro, and Fred is billed fourth 🥹♥️

The film opens with a huge battle where the Roman army, led by Marcus Acacius, conquering the last free city of Africa (I think?), which is what Lucius and his wife are trying to defend

I cannot for the life of me remember what Lucius’ wife was called but she seemed nice, we only had her for a few minutes though before she got killed 😭

Okay so I’m going to start right off the bat by talking about the Emperors as they were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing, and I want to give them their own section!

We NEED to talk about Fred as Caracalla - this isn’t even me being biased, I’m being as unbiased as I can when I say that he was AMAZING

By the way, for months I’ve seen people talk shit about Fred, complaining about how they wish it was Barry Keoghan, whinging because “we could have had Joe and Barry” - to those people I say, shut the fuck up ☺️ I will NOT tolerate any hate for my boy Fred!

Fred actually had a much meatier part than Joe which was pleasantly surprising. I’m not saying Joe wasn’t unhinged or good, but he was way more sane than Fred’s character and you got the feeling that he was trying to hold their rule together and keep his brother from bringing down the whole empire

Caracalla surprised me because he was so much more softly spoken than I anticipated; in so many scenes he was childlike and almost pitiful to watch. For example, there were times where you could see him pouting or fidgeting like a bored toddler, at one point he essentially threw a tantrum and Geta had to hold him back from killing Acacius and Lucilla (and then in the background you could see him playfully swing the sword about like a child would with a toy) He would grin and get excited like a child whenever there was fighting or bloodshed, bouncing in his seat, he looked surprised and excited in the beginning when Geta handed him wine etc.

In the last coliseum fight scene, this was literally Caracalla getting excited when the fighting started - a literal child 😭

Honestly it was just fascinating to watch Caracalla because you could never tell if he was going to be childlike and almost-innocent or if he was going to start screaming and get violent

So apparently the reason that Caracalla is unhinged is because (to quote Geta) “the disease from his loins has spread to his head” (to paraphrase) which makes me think he’s got syphilis or something.

Also both of the emperors are briefly seen with concubines (as in the trailer), and Caracalla has both male and female ones hanging around him 😭 we love a bisexual Emperor!

Caracalla seems to have memory problems (probably as a result of his STI) because he doesn’t remember seeing Lucius fighting in front of them from just a couple of days ago at their party (the scene with the concubines) and Geta tries to remind him, “it’s the poet” but Caracalla just sits down and says he doesn’t remember

There’s a scene where Marcus and Lucilla are brought to the emperors in the middle of the night after being caught in a conspiracy to overthrow them, and you’ve got Geta in that red robe from the trailer whilst Caracalla is basically just wearing a fucking bedsheet toga style 😭 you know that shot in White Lotus where Fred/Quinn has a duvet around himself? Kind of like that

Contrary to that Letterboxd review calling the twins “BJ brothers”, there is NO incest in this film, and no hint of incest between the twins. I know a screenshot is circulating of Joe in the red robe where you could see what looked like the top/side of Fred’s head as if he’s on his knees, but they were absolutely NOT doing that 💀 the scene shows them both entering the room (Geta in his robe, hastily put on) and Fred in his bedsheet toga thing. I definitely didn’t get the vibe of incest at all, I got the vibe of “it’s the middle of the night and they’ve both been woken up because these two traitors (Marcus and Lucilla) were caught plotting against them”

I love that Caracalla’s weakness is Dondas (or Dundas? Different magazines are using different names so I’m so confused), his pet monkey (WE FUCKING LOVE CHERRY AND SO DOES FRED 😭♥️) Like he’s got Dondas/Dundas wearing a fucking dress and on a little chain lead, eating sweets from a bowl, and I have to applaud Fred for being able to act with a straight face while he had the monkey crawling over his shoulders, touching his hair, and at one point when the monkey moved the chain lead literally went right around/over his face

While there’s riots going on outside the palace, Caracalla is freaking out and has Dondas/Dundas the monkey on his shoulder, and Geta straight up threw wine at both of them before saying that maybe Dondas (or Dundas, whatever the fucking name is) go and calm down in another room 💀

There’s a scene where Macrinus finds Caracalla hiding under a table with the monkey and it made me think they were almost playing hide and seek 😭 truthfully I think he was just under there crying and hiding

It’s the fact that Macrinus was able to manipulate Caracalla into killing Geta by using his love of Dondas/Dundas against him; the people of Rome protest against their emperors, and Macrinus basically tells Caracalla that Geta is going to throw him to the plebs outside to be killed - and Dondas/Dundas. “Think about what they might do to Dondas” (or Dundas) - and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

NOT CARACALLA AND MACRINUS SAWING GETA’S FUCKING HEAD OFF LIKE THAT 😭 IT WAS STRAIGHT UP LIKE A HORROR FILM WITH MACRINUS COMING UP BEHIND CARACALLA AND HELPING?!?

Also Caracalla made the monkey a fucking consul of state (I think) after he killed Geta?!?! 😭 Absolutely fucking UNHINGED I TELL YOU

“ALL HAIL DONDAS! 😃” (or Dundas - again, someone please tell me the fucking monkey’s confirmed name)

They showed Geta’s head for WAY too long 😭 and Macrinus just showing it around like that?!? NASTY

Reeling over the fact they airbrushed out Geta’s head for the trailer because in this shot in the film Geta’s head is clearly visible on the table behind Denzel 💀

Sorry but Fred looked damn fine in that purple outfit near the end 😋

I feel like Caracalla had a little bit of a soft spot for Lucilla but the two sides of his personality were warring with each other: the sadistic bloodthirsty side wanted to murder both her and Marcus right away, but then near the end he whispers to Macrinus “must we kill Lucilla?” and he sounded a little hesitant or unsure which was interesting

Seeing Fred as Caracalla without Geta in that last coliseum battle scene? I can’t help but love him, Fred is seriously too good in this role. The shouting, the childlike excitement when the fighting started (see gif above)

Fred was definitely playing up the childlike side of Caracalla in his last scene when the people started revolting, he was literally curling up in his seat, snivelling and crying like a baby until Macrinus killed him from behind (he put something in his ear, i think he stuck a pin in his ear to impale his brain?) Truly pitiful end for Caracalla.

Once again: Fred Hechinger for Best Supporting Actor at the 97th Academy Awards campaign!! 😊↕️

Okay so now I’ve talked about the Emperors, I can talk about the rest of the film:

Ridley Scott truly said fuck historical accuracy in this film 😭 which is not surprising to be fair if you know him and his movies

This film was, expectedly, VERY bloody and violent from start to finish

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

At one point where they’re bringing the slaves into Rome, they show statues of a wolf feeding two human children from her teat and Lucius recounts the story - this is obviously a reference to Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a wolf mother. This is actually really fitting because from earth on, Ridley AND Fred and Joe have mentioned the idea of the twins being based on this Romulus/Remus story?

DAMN, Paul Mescal was super beefy in this film like holy fucking shit dude

Honestly I adore Pedro but his role was way smaller than I thought it would be. His role is essentially to be Lucilla’s decent and loyal husband who also happened to lead the invasion that killed Lucius’ wife in the beginning of the film, something he did not want to do, hence why Lucius wants to kill him so badly (family drama, eh? 😭) and who is part of a plot to dethrone the twins

MATT LUCAS AS THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES?!? 😭 I won’t lie, at first it distracted me because I was like “why the fuck is Matt Lucas here” but he got a few laughs out of the cinema screening so his tiny parts added a little bit of humour to the film when it got tense

As I said above, there’s no incest shown - there is a MENTION, however, of a rumour that Lucius’ real father wasn’t Lucius Verus(?) but rather Commodus (obviously Lucilla’s brother/Lucius’ uncle from the first film). However, it’s not true because they make it very clear that Lucius’ father is Maximus. They do however briefly mention that Lucilla was a child bride at the age of 14 which is a bit fucked up

I was probably the only person in my screening who noticed this but at one point I saw graffiti on one of the walls on the outside/entrance to the coliseum that said something like “Irrumbo Imperators” - according to Google, that translates as “I attack the emperors”. However, it could have also been “Irrumabo Imperatores”, and if you ask Google to give you the Latin word for “fuck”? It’s “Irrumabo”. So essentially there was graffiti in the film that either said “attack the emperors” or “fuck the emperors” 💀

I thought that maybe Lucius had somehow forgotten that Lucilla was his mother despite being 12 when she sent him away but nope, he’s fully aware of who he actually is and who his mother is, he’s just angry at her for sending him away and never seeing him again 😭

NOT THAT SERVANT TATTLING ON LUCILLA AND MARCUS?!? 😤

They killed Marcus off WAY earlier than I thought they would by the way. The trailers give the impression that the final battle is Lucius vs Marcus but it’s actually Lucius vs Macrinus which is WILD to me

You know that scene in LOTR where the orcs shoot Boromir full of arrows? That is basically what happened in this film to General Acacius but with about 20 more arrows 💀 I had major Boromir flashbacks watching this scene

I’m glad that Lucilla and Lucius got to reconcile before the ending, given what ended up happening

“Because Emperor Caracalla is generous, he will allow Lucilla to have one Gladiator to fight to defend her” - ONE. ONE AGAINST ABOUT 30 TRAINED GUARDS 💀

I’m still reeling over the fact Derek Jacobi spoiled his own character’s death on the red carpet a mere hour before the film screening in front of THOUSANDS of people 😭 that man did NOT give a fuck quite frankly and I think that’s kind of hilarious of him

THE GASP THAT EVERYONE IN THE SCREENING COLLECTIVELY LET OUT WHEN MACRINUS KILLED LUCILLA BY SHOOTING HER IN THE CHEST?!? HE KILLED CARACALLA AND LUCILLA IN 60 SECONDS FLAT 😭

That said, this shot from the behind the scenes featurette about Ridley Scott is ten times funnier to me after watching the film and realising that not only is Ridley showing Denzel how to shoot the arrow that kills Lucilla, but Fred is also supposed to be dead in the chair at this point since Macrinus takes the bow and fires the arrow straight after killing Caracalla 😭

Poor Lucius has now seen his father, his mother, his uncle and his wife all die right in front of him, the man CANNOT catch a break 😫

That final battle between Lucius and Macrinus was GRUESOME 😳 Lucius cut off his hand and slashed him - I’m not sure if he actually cut him in half or if Macrinus just crumpled in the river in a heap but DAMN

This film used footage from the first Gladiator film so they gave the actor who played Lucius in the first film a credit which was nice!

That said, I know obviously it’s been 24 years since the original film so of course the child actor from the original is no longer 12 and so could not be in the flashback scenes showing young Lucius, but damn the difference was a little jarring to be honest, especially when it went from footage of the original film to new footage with the new child actor

Ridley Scott spoiled the ending of this fucking movie by saying he wanted to have Paul back to play Lucius again as the main character in Gladiator III 💀 so yeah, I already knew Lucius was surviving this film

Some final summary thoughts:

Let’s be honest, it would be impossible to top the first Gladiator and so while I loved Gladiator II and think it was amazing, it was obviously never going to quite reach the same level as the original

I know I just made the comment about nominating Fred for Best Supporting Actor but I have to be honest, I truly think Denzel deserves the nomination - if there’s only one actor from this film who gets that nomination, it has to be Denzel because he was by far the standout of the whole film. If I had to rank it personally I’d say Denzel and then Fred is a close second, then maybe Joseph and Pedro?

^ This isn’t me saying Joe and Pedro were bad at all, they were all really amazing, but this film just had so many characters and quite frankly Fred, Joe and Pedro had WAY less screentime than Denzel so they didn’t have nearly as much to work with as he did.

Again; I’m biased because I went in the most excited to see the Emperors, but I wish we’d had more of Caracalla and Geta. Fred and Joe did their best to work with what they were given, but they didn’t have that much and pretty much all of their scenes were shown in trailers or TV spots etc.

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

I obviously wasn’t expecting Paul Mescal to fight real baboons, rhinos and sharks but the CGI was… not great. It was quite obvious that it was CGI for the baboons and sharks, I think the rhino was slightly better though (Fred mentioned in an interview his first day involved “the mechanical rhino” so it was somewhat partly practical as well I suppose)

The pacing of this film was a little all over the place, if I’m being honest. I want to rewatch soon, from further back in the screen because, as I said, I was craning my head back the whole time and it ended up giving me a neck and headache so that probably added to me being uncomfortable (plus I’d had a long day and was thoroughly burned out by the time the screening started), but there were times where I was like “oh… we’re back here then 😐”

^ What I’m trying to say is that some of the storylines happened so fast and had very little build up (eg. The emperors in general) whilst other plots were so slow burn in comparison.

The music was so good! I know people are going to compare it unfavourable to Hans Zimmer’s original score from the first film, but I LOVE Harry Gregson-Williams (he did the soundtrack for the first two Narnia films so I’m biased 😅) and I thought he did a great job with the score here. The fact he had Hans Zimmer’s approval and praise made me confident the score would be great anyway

I feel like people are obviously going to compare Paul Mescal to Russell Crowe which… let’s be honest, has gotta suck for him because how the fuck do you live up to Russell Crowe?!? Some people have already said that they didn’t like Paul in this film, which… okay, fair enough. I honestly don’t think comparing him to Russell Crowe does him any favours. I enjoyed watching him personally, and I think given that this whole film rests on him, he did great. Not quite Russell Crowe but I have no complaints about his performance personally.

People are also going to compare Joe and Fred to Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus, and I think they both did a great job given that they didn’t actually have nearly as much screen-time as Joaquin did in the original film. It’s almost unfair to compare them because in the first Gladiator, Commodus was the main antagonist - in this film, Macrinus is the main antagonist overall whilst the Emperors are more secondary antagonists that serve as obstacles for Macrinus’ rise to power. But they both did great with what they had.

Overall, my opinion of the film?

This film NEEDS to be seen on a big screen at the cinema! Go and watch it!

223 notes · View notes

bibluebutterfly · 2 years ago

Text

Okay so I’m taking a risk here by talking about StaticMoth (as some fans will come at your throat if it’s mentioned), but let’s do it since I discovered something interesting.

The main thing being, I noticed that throughout these last few months, there has been a steady rise in StaticMoth fanart (which would make sense as StaticMoth has gotten a lot more shippers since the Instas were confirmed as noncanon), with Viv herself liking the more comedic/wholesome pieces.

Then upon closer inspection (aka, seeing one specific artist pop up constantly and finally deciding to check her profile), I realized that the Animation Director for Hazbin and Helluva has a LOT of their own StaticMoth fanart, with Viv even sometimes commenting on it.

So I’m now beginning to suspect that StaticMoth will NOT be as abusive as we were initially led to believe.

Check it out

(Smiles is the animation director for Hazbin and Joel is Val’s VA, just to be clear) that, and if you check this account you’ll see that they are all a BIG VoxVal fans, and Smiles also mentions how she worked with them a LOT in the show.

Now call me crazy, but I don’t think this woman, or any of them would ship StaticMoth as hard as they do if one was abusive and the other wanted to get away from them. And since the art that Viv likes is actually really sweet at times, I think that StaticMoth will actually be a functional couple.

I mean they also get a playmat and the only couples who get playmats are the canon functional/going to be functional couples (ie. Chaggie, Stolitz, M&M, and Fizzarozzie)

Also while I’m at it I may as well mention that they WERE included in her Valentines post. And in that gif, we have Vox is smiling evily at Val while he isn’t looking. That doesn’t really scream “abuse!!” to me.

Ironically, the last time I saw behavior like this from the team (Viv liking fan art, animators and storyboard artists making their own cute fan art, playmats before canon, etc), it was about Fizzarozzie, and they turned out to be the healthiest couple on the show.

Coincidence? I think not. (Art below is done by Hunter B, a storyboard revisionist and Vivziepop herself)

Now don’t get me wrong, I DONT think that they will be in any way healthy, but I don’t think it will be abusive. Or if it turns out Val does hit Vox to the point of breaking his screen, I think Vox will in return rip his arm out. If they’re abusive, it will be on both ends.

And since Vox has been appearing more in trailers and promos than Val, I think he will be the bigger, more prominent character. And it has been confirmed by many that Vox will very much be as bad as Val. He’s the most powerful the the Vees, and is clearly the head of the group. At the very least, I highly, HIGHLY doubt he will be the uwu babygirl that some fans think.

I think StaticMoth will have a “evil couple” vibe where they probably aren’t head over heels, (their one true loves will almost definitely be money and themselves), but they have a blast bringing other people down together. They will be equally awful, we’ll hate them, but we will LOVE to hate them.

Or I’m dead wrong, and this post will age like milk.

812 notes · View notes

devilshalfhour · 4 days ago

Text

"Your Honor, I'm a freak bitch." -Matt Murdock at some point probably

[FLASH WARNING]

General video description: A fan edit of Matt Murdock also known as Daredevil to the fourth verse of WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. Clips are mostly from the Daredevil TV shows, but there are some from She-Hulk: Attorney At Law as well as a few panels from the comics

A detailed description with dialogue and lyrics is under the cut

[We hear the song's looped intro of "There's some whores in this house" playing as the edit opens on a scene from Daredevil: Born Again showing the trial of Hector Ayala. Lawyer Matt Murdock is cross examining a witness.]

Dialogue: "Officer Powell, good morning, um, I'm told you have a black eye. I hope everything is okay," says Matt

"Yeah, don't worry about it," responds Powell.

[There is a cut to the scene of Matt fighting Powell in Nicky Torres's apartment. Matt grabs him slams him against the fridge, hard, on the refrigerator door.

Another cut to a scene from the Daredevil Netflix show of Matt training in a church basement. First, there is a close up shot of him boxing using a punching bag, then we see a zoomed out shot of him, later on in different clothes, practicing his punches on the air. The double D Daredevil logo pops up on the screen and the scene turns black and white.]

Dialogue (now a voice over): "There's this thing they say in boxing: the best cure for a black eye is fast hands," says Matt.

"Objection!" shouts the prosecution.

[A transition as we hear Megan Thee Stallion's iconic "Ah" in the background and then we see the cover art of Daredevil Volume 2 #50 on screen of Matt Murdock sitting slouched in a chair in front of a grey background, in his daredevil costume, unmasked with tousled hair, a scar on his face, and his eyes closed. The next piece of dialogue moves across the screen and the cover art before it disappears.]

Dialogue (still a voice over): "C'mon, Mr. Murdock."

[END OF INTRO]

Lyric: Your Honor, I'm a freak bitch.

[Matt in his Daredevil suit with a gun taped to his hand, smiling]

Lyric: Handcuffs, leashes

[Matt, wrapping his hands in preparation for a boxing match in the church basement, and then him in his Daredevil costume standing at the bottom of a staircase unfurling a chain under flashing red lights.]

Lyric: Switch my wig

[Matt's array of Daredevil cowls from Born Again]

Lyric: Make him feel like he cheating

[Matt, shirtless, eyes wild with boxing gloves on, getting punched in the face by the gloved hand of his opponent]

Lyric: Put him on his knees

[Daredevil dodging She-Hulk's arm in their parking garage fight scene and then pushing himself back up to his feet seamlessly]

Lyric: Give him something to believe in

[A sped up clip of Daredevil standing on the roof of a church with a large, red LED cross from the first episode of season 2]

Lyric: Never lost a fight, but I'm looking for a beating

[Matt and Elektra sparring in the boxing ring at Fogwell's gym. She punches him. He ducks and slaps her butt as she is propelled into the ropes by her own motion. He grins.]

Lyric: In the food chain, I'm the one that eat ya

[Matt fighting the ninja Nobu in his black mask costume while Nobu is on fire.]

Lyric: If he ate me ass, he a bottom feeder.

[Daredevil, cocking his head and pretending to look at something someone is showing him. Cut to Matt in the black mask outfit shot from a low angle, pulling out two wooden clubs from his cargo pants pocket in preparation for a fight.]

Lyric: Big D stand for big demeanor

[Twelve different drawings of the double D Daredevil logo appear on screen, one at a time, to make a photo grid. Then, a set photo of Charlie Cox in the black Daredevil suit with said double D logo on the chest pops up over the rest of the photos]

Lyric: I could make you bust before I ever meet ya

[Cut to a a scene from one of the Daredevil: Born Again trailers of a mural of Daredevil painted on a brick wall with the words "Born Again" painted underneath. The clip then morphs into a smiling Daredevil in his yellow and red She-Hulk suit with his billy clubs in hand.]

Lyric: If it don't hang...

[A shot of Matt from the back doing pull ups]

Lyric: ...then he can't bang, can't hurt my feelings

[Daredevil wrapped in chains body slamming the Punisher on a rooftop]

Lyric: But I like pain

[Daredevil punching the Punisher repeatedly]

Lyric: If he fuck me

[Matt and Elektra making out in the ring in Fogwell's]

Lyric: Ask whose is it

[Matt in Defenders walking down a hallway with Jessica Jones behind him. He is wearing normal clothes, save for the grey scarf wrapped around his head to conceal his face.]

Lyric: When I ride the dick

[Matt on the roof of his apartment complex in Born Again training. He throws his weapon at the camera and the screen goes black]

Lyric: I'mma spell my name, ah

#BIG D STANDS FOR DAREDEVILLLLLL #look at my lawyer dawg I'm going to (horny) jail #jk i'm a lesbian #i just think he's neat #i made him look too cool here though I'll have to make fun of him a lot for the next few days to compensate #daredevil #matt murdock #netflix daredevil #daredevil born again #ddba #charlie cox #edits #daredevil edit

69 notes · View notes

stevesgother · 1 month ago

Text

When Steve Harrington was young-- eight or so-- he'd wait until his mother and father fell asleep before wrapping his blue blanket around his neck, stuffing his favorite action figure in the waistband of his pajama pants, and sneaking down the stairs towards the door in the kitchen that led straight into the garage.

Despite how popular, how handsome and charming he was destined to become, when Steve was small, he had little to be proud of. He was cute, sure, but he was homely. His hair was a bright, bleach blonde-- not yet the crisp chestnut brown it would grow into, and he wore glasses. Thick lensed, coke bottle glasses that made his eyes look bigger than they were. Steve didn't have a lot of friends, didn't like all the popular things that his classmates liked. His hair stuck up at weird angles because of the two cowlicks on either side of his forehead.

Steve Harrington did have one friend though, and he was on his way to visit him tonight.

If Steve was unpopular, the Eddie Munson was practically an outcast. His mother having died when he was a baby, and his father a drunk because of it, he was sent to live out the remainder of his childhood with his uncle in a dingey trailer park on the sketchy side of an already sketchy town. Eddie was a year older than Steve, but that hadn't stopped him from trying his luck at a conversation with the boy-- hanging upside down on the monkey bars one afternoon.

Eddie's uncle Wayne let the boys stay up when Steve came to visit late at night, let them curl up on the thrifted sofa and watch cartoons or reality game shows like Family Feud. Steve hadn't understood it then, but perhaps Wayne knew. Knew that just because Steve wasn't an orphan like his nephew was, didn't mean he was all that better off. Knew that Steve was lonely, because he didn't have an uncle to love him the way Wayne loved Eddie.

They shared Steve's blue blanket and would stare at the ultraviolet of the television screen until their eyelids grew heavy. They'd fall asleep, heads knocking together as they dozed off, hair sticking out at all sorts of funny angles. When Steve woke up in the morning, he felt different than when he woke up in his own bed at home. The sun shone differently here, in Eddie's trailer with the sleeping boy clonked with his head in Steve's lap.

Things changed as they grew. Steve's brown hair grew in, and he ditched the glasses for contacts. His father made him join the basketball team; girls liked him, wanted to talk to him.

And Eddie. Well, Eddie was Eddie. Still trailer trash, who loved DnD and sold Ketamine to jocks and addicts make enough money to get the hell out of this shithole town. Eddie who missed Steve-- the only real friend he'd ever had. Before everything changed.

Weird that they've been thrown into each other's lives again in such a peculiar way. Interdimensional demons? Wonder what might come of that.

94 notes · View notes

jaimexbrienne-fic-finder · 3 months ago

Note

Any slowburn,angsty,drama-ish with happy ending Braime fan fic reco?

All of those words don't have universally agreed upon definitions, so I can only hope both of us kind of have the same definition!

If anyone wants to add something that fits their own definition, please do!!

when the sun shine, we shine together by cardinalgirl75

Brienne spent one incredible weekend with hockey superstar Jaime Lannister, only for him to break her heart when it was over. Four years later, she's moved on with her life and made a name for herself as the lead choreographer for one of the hottest shows on television--Lip Sync Battle. The last thing in the world she wants is for the show's creator to announce that he's pursuing Jaime to be one of the contestants.

A Twist of Fate by ChocoNut

As soon as Catelyn dispatches Jaime with Brienne to King's Landing, the road trip takes a turn when Jaime manages to overpower the wench and take her hostage.

Roles are reversed and they continue their journey to King's Landing, this time on his terms.

The Lion, the Wench, and the Wardrobe Trailer by GilShalos1

Jaime Lannister’s entire acting career has been built on playing reckless cads and heartless villains – ever since a scandalous death on his first film, Kingslayer, was quickly hushed up at his father’s behest. Nearly fifteen years later, acclaimed director Olenna Tyrell has announced her retirement: after one last film, Oathkeeper, inspired by the mythic story of the Long Night. She wants Jaime to do what he does so well, play into his on-screen persona and off-screen reputation, and be a villain for the ages in her final film. But to make sure his infamous ways don’t interfere with production, she requires his personal assistant to keep him on the straight, narrow and sober. Brienne Tarth, in her first job on a film set, finds herself tasked with keeping the impossible Jaime Lannister under control …

A Good Knight Sleep by SeeThemFlying

Ten years ago, Jaime Lannister was world famous as the lead singer of Westeros' favourite boyband Kingsguard and Brienne Tarth was his number one fan. However, after getting the chance to meet him, she soon discovers he is not the man his music led her to believe, and the two take a passionate disliking to each other, which they don't forget over the years.

Fast forwards a decade, and Brienne herself gets chance at the limelight with Jaime as her manager, reopening old wounds. Can Brienne work with Jaime to write the next big hit? Or will she find her inspiration elsewhere?

Just For Tonight... And Maybe Tomorrow by JailynnW

The Best In All The Land- Male Escort Service (Rating 4.5 stars). Click more to read reviews from our satisfied clientele

She looked at her computer screen, staring unseeingly at the words which were starting to blur together. The fact that she was even on this website was insane.

A Dance with Ice and Fire by ShirleyAnn66

This is how it ends (or Jaime and Brienne and End Game).

Never Know How Much I Care by earthwindandfiber

Catelyn Stark’s Senate reelection campaign is floundering, so she enlists help from an unlikely quarter. Unfortunately, she underestimates the havoc this will wreak in the office, particularly with her assistant. Drama ensues.

Or, a modern politics AU that is much more about tension, snark, and desire than it is about actual politics.

Run Mad As Often As You Choose by brynnmck

Faced with the untimely death of her brother and the resulting threat of losing her guardianship of her wards, Sansa and Arya Stark, Lady Brienne Tarth determines that she has no choice but to dress and act as Galladon until such time as she can see Sansa safely married. Enter infamous rake Jaime Lannister, Lord Casterly, sent to secure Sansa's hand on behalf of the marquess Aerys Targaryen. It should be a most fortunate arrangement, except that much as Brienne's present is not all it seems, neither is Jaime's past, and--quite inconveniently for both--they find themselves wondering whether they might have a future together.

Or: five times Brienne refused Jaime's proposal, and one time she proposed to him. (And also she's wearing 19th-century men's fashion because of reasons and fuck the patriarchy.)

Maiden, Monster, Knight by PrioritiesSorted

The tale was told throughout the Seven Kingdoms: the tale of a mother’s mad grief, the tale of the maiden in the tower, the tale of the dragon who guarded her. A dragon who had once been a girl.

A Big Cop in a Small Town by SeeThemFlying

When Brienne Tarth, a tough London copper, is forced to move to a sleepy town in Somerset to be their new police sergeant, she is partnered with Jaime Lannister, who is not happy about the whole deal. However, things are not what they seem in Casterly, and Brienne and Jaime end up uncovering a conspiracy bigger than anything they were ever anticipating.

A bit of ridiculous, murderous fun to help us all forget about Series 8!

References to a certain 2007 buddy cop comedy abound.

Measure in Love by dancinginthecenteroftheworld

Brienne Tarth isn't wild about the new building that's been built across her office, blocking her view of Blackwater Bay. But what she really doesn't expect the gorgeous nudist who moves in or the chaos he brings into her life.

All Choked Up by theworldunseen

Brienne of Tarth marries Jaime Lannister, and neither are happy about it. Until, one day, they are. Just an AU arranged marriage.

Man of the Hour by hardlyfatal

Brienne gives up on love just in time for love to move in next door. Suddenly, the girl who rescues everyone has someone rescuing her. He's gorgeous, needy, sweet, funny... the ideal man, really, or at least the ideal man for her.

Too bad he doesn't actually exist.

#jaime x brienne #braime #fic recs

76 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 8 months ago

Text

I assume this is because I criticized Kamala Harris in my last post.

I want to address this because it's important to me and frustrations currently consuming my life, and I'm very emotionally unwell right now. I want to share my experiences and make a point I feel is important at this time.

Once again, this is very unfitting of the smut fanfiction blog and will be deleted later, even though I'm sure this is a huge follower-losing post, but whatever.

Forgive me for rambling so much, but I encourage you and people who think like this to read in entirety.

I realize things are tense right now in the US.

Part of the reason for my inactivity the past while (besides multiple hospitalizations) is that I'm glued to my screen every night now because I'm very scared. I've been spending all my time researching, watching videos from economists, etc.

(Preemptively, sources for everything I'm about to say: the FEMA Privacy Act Statement itself, the official CPB database, Helene People Finder, United States Council of Foreign Relations, Samaritan's Purse, NYC.gov, Starlink, Politico, ABC, CNBC, georgia.gov, nc.gov, tn.gov, my own life)

The US is an extremely high-tension, polarized political climate, largely due to the bipartisan system.

However, no one should be immune from criticism.

All politicians should be criticized when they do harm. I am allowed to criticize her, and I will.

Criticizing one candidate is not the same thing as endorsing/supporting their opposition.

3,000+ Appalachians are missing. The current death toll makes this the deadliest single event in the US since 1862. A higher death toll than Hurricane Katrina, a higher death toll than the events of 9/11/2001, a higher death toll than any mass shooting.

However, it is largely going completely ignored, and mainstream news media has barely acknowledged it, in part due to elections, but largely because the people who live in Appalachia are poor, rural people. And the harsh reality is that poor people's lives are not treated with the same value as people of higher classes.

FEMA continues to do nothing, and the feds are now threatening to take children away from homeless parents... yet they blocked donations of trailers and campers from nearby areas that would help those people to, you know, not be homeless. A kind group of Amish have come down from Pennsylvania to build shelters, and FEMA may tear them down too since they don't have "permits."

Harris had the opportunity to do something, and has the authority to order FEMA agents to act differently, but she chose to exploit the situation for publicity, then leave and otherwise ignore them. She then went on to pay Beyonce $10,000,000 to speak for 5 minutes.

That deserves to be criticized.

Her campaign continues to claim a good economy and job market, when inflation and cost of living has peaked, and just this month, their policies actually have officially led to one of the worst employment outcomes the United States has seen since the Great Depression, disproportionately affecting low-income workers.

That deserves to be criticized.

She has a bad track record during her time in the judicial system for the way her actions harshly affected underprivileged people, especially Jamal Trulove, who was terribly wronged.

That deserves to be criticized.

Furthermore, the reason FEMA/the government does not have money for Appalachia is for a few reasons, all of which were ordered, facilitated or allowed by the current administration:

1) we've sent over $100 BILLION to the IDF so they can keep blowing up hospitals and kindergartens,

2) we sent $175 BILLION to Zelensky so he can keep sending young men into violent deaths even if its against their will,

3) we just sent $100+ million to Lebanon even after the hurricane crisis, meaning the federal government explicitly chose to prioritize foreign aid over its own people,

4) money was taken directly from FEMA reserves for crises like ours, and used as part of a whopping $150,000,000,000 spent on mass migration — including free flights, a $20 million welcome center with a free-use "game room" with dozens of Xboxes plus free food/lodging, and in NY, an average of $1400 prepaid debit card per individual each month.

Meanwhile, Appalachians get a one-time $750 per family, and if you have insurance to cover anything, it's a LOAN you have to pay back (many "fact-checkers" are claiming this is false when its literally in the FEMA eligibility statement). Many of the independent line workers FEMA hired for repairs are reporting they have not been paid AT ALL since starting.

In other words, the money that was specifically reserved for saving lives in times of crisis was spent on video games and free money handouts.

That, holy hell, deserves to be criticized.

Secondly, I want to address the message itself.

I realize that a lot of the american tumblr userbase is 1) people young enough that they're still partially financially dependent on parents and/or 2) are, like most of the US statistically, earning middle-class incomes, and live in fairly population-dense environments.

Most people outside the US, on the other hand, are getting their perceptions of life, politics, etc in the US from the posts/narratives of people within the aforementioned groups, popular culture, and their own local media, so their perspective is often quite limited, to no fault of their own. I'm sure my perspective of life in other countries is also very limited.

Most of you live in places other than where I live, and live very different lives from mine. As humans, we are naturally prone to subconsciously assuming the lives of others are not too different from our own, and do not naturally stop to consider how various factors might affect people's lives and decisions.

We are social beings, prone to adopting the beliefs of others who have the same experiences and thereby the same limited perspectives as us, especially in ideologically homogenous environments.

However, I have just as much of a voice as anyone else.

My hope is that I can use my words and experience to foster empathy for one another between different people in a very polarized climate at a very tense time.

I'm originally from a fairly rural community of about 8,000 people, largely low-income, low-education, evangelical blue-collar workers and farmers, in the Bible Belt.

It is well-known that this demographic overwhelmingly voted for Trump. I don't deny that. I visit home a lot, I see the yard signs everywhere, flags hanging from pickup trucks and farm fenceposts, lots of red hats.

There is a reason for that.

The administration of the past four years has utterly destroyed many rural, low-income communities.

It caused a huge spike in job layoffs, leading to homelessness, drug abuse, hunger and poverty for many already low-income people, and for select communities, violent crime.

I'm fortunate enough to have had parents better off than most of the community, but I'm self-sufficient now, and I am in the bottom 20% of incomes in the US, even with a degree. I could write endless paragraphs on how hard it is to get by, but to summarize for the sake of shortening — it's very, very rough.

Everything has become drastically more expensive, very rapidly over the course of a few years. Groceries are 3x their 2021 prices. I had to get a guarantor for a one-bedroom apartment.

Many rural families resort to drastic measures to get by. Small farmers are being financially strangled out of their way of life.

The actions of the Biden-Harris administration is the reason a huge portion of my extended family was laid off and now face total destitution, as there are simply no jobs left available.

The Biden-Harris border and crime policies are responsible for the brutal rape of a significant number of women and girls in this geographic region. Statistically, these rapes have quadrupled compared to the previous administration.

A woman was raped and stabbed to death about a mile from where I live.

Our nearby neighbor, a cow farmer back home, was attacked on his own property.

I have personally faced multiple instances of sexual harassment and aggression, some of which were very frightening. I know other girls nearby experienced the same or worse.

Alcoholism and hard drugs due to the spike in unemployment and poverty has ruined many lives, and help is often hard to access in rural regions.

A woman my mom was acquainted with ended her own life in 2023 because her children were taken from her due to her drug addiction and poverty. People I played with on the church playground as kids are now unemployed heroin addicts.

I've watched my mom driven to tears after realizing how drastically her income tax increased, and how little she has left after them despite working around the clock.

All of these can be traced back to the policies and actions of the current administration, and the current Harris-Walz platform's proposals will drastically increase it all — largely voted for by people who live in economic situations and locations as such that they are fairly unaffected by these consequences, so they may not understand how it affects these people.

I could write endless paragraphs of all the people I know who have been at best negatively affected, at worst utterly ruined, by the current administration.

Since I have the unique background of understanding these people whilst having more liberal values as an individual, with a broad range of people I interact with now, I have tried to have discussions on this over the last year or so, in real life and virtually. I believed that raising awareness would make people on the left-leaning side empathize with them, and inspire dialogue to work to implement ways to account for the concerns and needs of the rural poor, and incorporate that into their existing proposals.

I was incorrect. I've been very polite and respectful in how I address others in these discussions. In the vast majority of interactions, I was not given the same in return.

A few were receptive, which I appreciate, but in most of my experiences, the same group that is known for encouraging empathy, apparently doesn't apply that philosophy to people they dislike — no matter how I presented it, they immediately rushed to demonize, censor, humiliate, shame and gaslight me, and expressed callous apathy at best, if not active contempt, for my people.

They say "that doesn't happen," and I think they genuinely believe that due to limited perspective — but the reality is that they're simply in a position of privilege as such that it isn't happening to them.

Similarly, what you have to understand is that from the perspective of many rural people in red areas, their experience is that more privileged people inflicted this suffering on them by voting for it, then silence and shame them for speaking out about it.

Likewise, they also have a limited perspective — for them, the issue I see is that they adamantly believe the "other side" is already well-aware of the effects their choices have on others. I don't think this is true, I think many on the other end are unaware of these issues.

This dual lack of understanding creates mutual resentment and bitterness, which fuels tension.

I will say that trying to explain how girls in my community were assaulted or my own harassment, only to have it spammed with replies along the lines of "don't care" or "deserved" or calling me a liar, seeing posts mocking or wishing harm on people like my family accumulate tens of thousands of likes, having people I care about referred to as "trailer trash," passive-aggressive statements implying I'm too unattractive for a man to harass — this, along with other distasteful actions I've seen, has pushed me away from the left as a community, and I don't think that's unreasonable.

Similarly, labeling people you know nothing about as bad people, without making any effort to understand their circumstances or what they actually believe and why, will drive people away and make them resentful.

My community is multiracial, women are highly valued in southern culture for various reasons, and they themselves are marginalized and underprivileged. They're kind people who have been good to me.

I haven't really met any people who are hateful, nor is hate the reason for their votes — they're all voting as they do because they are scared, exhausted, grieving and desperate. A lot of people in the area never voted before, but are now registering to vote in droves because they feel their backs are against the wall, so to speak.

Moreover, Orange Man himself redirected $14 million dollars to Appalachia, continues to raise awareness for them in speeches, and Musk, who is associated with him, has a team working to help Appalachians. He's also the only noteworthy figure that has acknowledged certain issues affecting them.

They realize that the situation in Appalachia could just as easily be them in the future, that they'd be given the same treatment.

This has resulted in a lot of rural poor people feeling that he cares more for their lives, compared to Biden/Harris who more or less neglected them. Which, considering that, is a fairly reasonable conclusion on their end.

Finally, it is true that blue voters tend to be in favor of abolishing or ruining crucial aspects of our way of life that, I say this politely, they do not fully understand, while the people here want to preserve their way of life.

So, while I have more liberal values that differ from most people back home, I don't believe they are bad people. They are reacting very reasonably to the circumstances they're in.

All I ask of others is to consider, no matter where you are or what beliefs you align with, and no matter what happens tomorrow, that the "other side" to your own may not be the evil people you have been led to believe they are, but are humans whose lives are simply different from yours, and they are acting in accordance to their experiences, circumstances, and fears.

The growing trend of demonizing political opposition with no attempt at empathy, only creates more pain in the world. I hope this has helped to foster better understanding, and that people can be kind to one another.

That is all I wanted to say.

109 notes · View notes

passengerprincessblog · 7 months ago

Text

“Off Track” ~ Pt 8 Franco x reader

WARNING: angst?

Note: sorry it took me so long! Finals was WAYYY more stressful than I expected! Hope you enjoy 💜

Summary: Y/N navigates the tension and heartbreak at the Vegas track, she’s more conflicted than ever. Seeking solace in Franco’s arms, she’s faced with balancing the pain she’s caused with the uncertain path ahead.

The Vegas night was electric, the hum of the crowd and the buzz of the track vibrating through the air. Lights glimmered off the sleek motorhomes and trailers, casting shadows that danced across the pavement. The sound of engines revving in the distance only added to the energy, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. My thoughts were louder than the chaos around me.

It had been 24 hours since Lewis and I last spoke—an eternity for us. Even in our worst arguments, we’d never gone this long without speaking. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finally saw him. Would I get the cold, detached Lewis who could cut me down with a few harsh words? Or would he be the softer version, the one who’d make sure I was okay before sending me on my way for good?

Neither thought brought me comfort.

I was sitting in Franco’s hotel room earlier, scrolling through my phone as I tried to figure out what to do. Texts between us had been frequent, but his most recent one had left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

**Franco:** *You could come… but maybe you should do something else?*

**Me:** *I know, but I feel like I should support Lewis.*

**Franco:** *I don’t think so.*

I sighed in frustration, staring at the screen. Franco’s tone in text was as calm and measured as ever, but his words felt like a subtle warning. He didn’t want me at the track. Maybe he thought it would stir up more drama. Maybe he didn’t want to risk running into Lewis. Or maybe… maybe he didn’t want to share me.

I didn’t respond. Instead, like the idiot I am, I opened a new text to Lewis. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting over and over again.

*I’m sorry.* Delete.

*I shouldn’t have done what I did.* Delete.

*Are you okay?* Delete.

Nothing felt right. No words could bridge the canyon between us. And yet, I still found myself heading to the track, my credentials burning a hole in my pocket. I wasn’t sure who I was there for—Lewis or Franco—but something inside me said I needed to be there.

---

The Vegas track was as dazzling as the city itself, every corner lit up with neon and flashing lights. The air was crisp, almost biting, and I pulled my coat tighter around me as I moved through the hospitality area, keeping my head down. My heart was racing, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the anxiety of running into either of them. I texted Franco to let him know I was there, but his reply was short, almost dismissive: *Okay.*

I decided to find somewhere quieter, away from the crowds and the chaos. My feet led me to a spot Lewis had shown me once—behind the Haas motorhome, where it was quieter, less busy. I leaned against the wall, the noise of the crowd muffled by the distance. My thoughts raced as I stared at the ground, trying to make sense of why I’d come.

Was I here to support Lewis? To apologize? To make things right? Or was I here because I wanted to see Franco, to feel the way he made my heart race and forget all the guilt I carried?

I didn’t have an answer.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps until they were too close. When I looked up, my heart stopped. Lewis was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable, his eyes locking onto mine like he’d been searching for me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us was thick, heavier than the chill in the air. I pushed off the wall, standing straighter as I tried to gather my thoughts.

“Lew—”

“You came—”

We both spoke at the same time, our words colliding awkwardly before falling into silence again. I swallowed hard, my nerves making it impossible to think straight.

“I didn’t know you were going to come,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“Well… I wasn’t sure if I should,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. “I just…”

I trailed off, unsure of how to explain myself without giving too much away. His eyes stayed on me, sharp and calculating, like he was trying to figure out what had changed about me in the last 24 hours.

“I saw you hadn’t left Vegas yet,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, more serious now.

I blinked, surprised. “You… you’ve been looking at my location?” My voice came out more accusatory than I’d planned.

He shrugged, his gaze hardening just a little. “Of course I have. What did you expect? You disappear into another hotel, don’t tell me where you are, and I’m just supposed to act like I don’t care?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

“Why didn’t you just get another room at my hotel? You didn’t have to go to another one,” he said, his voice sharp and edged with irritation.

I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Well, I didn’t exactly know what to do because you kicked me out,” I shot back, sharper than I meant to. My frustration was bubbling to the surface, and I couldn’t hold it back.

His expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it hardened again. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I asked you to leave because I needed time to think. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, is there?” I retorted, my voice rising slightly. “Because it felt pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for just a moment. “I needed space, okay? I needed to figure out what the hell to do after… after what you told me.”

My heart ached at the pain in his voice, the way his words cracked slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. I wanted to apologize, to explain myself, but I didn’t know where to start. Everything I said would sound like an excuse, and he deserved more than that.

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” I said softly, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You didn’t mean for it to happen? That’s supposed to make me feel better?” His eyes met mine again, and I could see the hurt behind the anger. “Do you even understand what you did? You didn’t just hurt me, Y/N. You made me question everything.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I know I did,” I said, my voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it.”

For a moment, his expression softened, like he was on the verge of reaching out to me. But then his walls went back up, and he shook his head. “I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice low. “I have a race to focus on.”

I nodded, my heart sinking. “I understand.”

He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the cold, feeling more alone than ever.

The Williams hospitality area was buzzing with activity. Engineers shuffled around, team members compared notes, and the media vultures were circling as usual. I slipped inside unnoticed, blending into the chaos as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. Being here felt safer—less fraught than hanging around Mercedes, where every glance or conversation might lead me back to Lewis. I needed a break from the tension, from the guilt. From everything.

As I lingered near a corner, scanning the room absentmindedly, I spotted him. Franco. His easy smile lit up his face as he charmed a group of media people, gesturing animatedly while they laughed at something he’d said. I couldn’t help but watch, drawn to the way he carried himself—so effortless, so magnetic.

Then his eyes found mine.

For a brief moment, everything else faded. His gaze softened, and his smile faltered, just slightly. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. When I dared to glance back, he was already excusing himself from the group, weaving through the crowd toward me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but laced with concern as he stopped in front of me. His hand reached out, brushing against my upper arm in a gesture that felt too intimate for the public space. His thumb rubbed gently, a reflexive move he seemed to forget wasn’t appropriate here.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly as he searched my face.

I forced a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fine.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he studied me, clearly unconvinced. “Come with me,” he said softly, his hand lingering for a moment before he dropped it. He turned and led me toward the back of the hospitality area, weaving through the halls until we reached the door to his driver’s room. He opened it, motioning for me to step inside.

Once the door clicked shut behind us, the noise of the bustling hospitality melted away, leaving only the quiet hum of the air conditioning. I stood awkwardly in the center of the small room, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, while Franco leaned against the door, watching me.

“You’re not fine,” he said gently, his voice low. He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to pretend with me, hermosa.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed down on me. “It’s just… it’s a lot.”

He nodded, stepping closer until we were only inches apart. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the small couch against the wall. I obeyed, sinking into the cushions while he knelt in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees.

“You talked to him, didn’t you?” Franco asked, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

I hesitated, looking down at my hands. “Yeah. I saw him. It wasn’t… bad, but it wasn’t good either.”

Franco’s fingers brushed against mine, a small, reassuring gesture. “What did he say?”

I looked up, meeting his expectant gaze. “He wasn’t angry. Not really. I mean, he asked why I didn’t stay at his hotel… but he’s hurt. And I can see it all over his face. I just… I feel awful, Franco. I need to make it right somehow. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

At that, Franco’s jaw tensed, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He tried to hide it, but I noticed the slight clench of his teeth, the way his fingers gripped my knees a little tighter.

“You don’t owe him anything, Y/N,” he said, his tone even but firm. “You’ve already done what you could. Staying here, trying to reach out—it’s only going to make it harder for both of you.”

I frowned, unsure how to respond. “I can’t just… walk away, Franco. I hurt him. He loved me, and I—”

“And you’re not with him anymore,” Franco interrupted, his voice sharper than usual. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his frustration. “He’s going to be fine. He’s Lewis Hamilton. He’ll survive. But you? You need to move on. You need to stop carrying this guilt around like it’s your responsibility to fix everything.”

I stared at him, my heart twisting at the intensity in his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he insisted, his voice softening. “You’re here with me now. That means something, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I liked Franco—more than I wanted to admit—but the weight of everything I’d done, the wreckage I’d left behind, made it impossible to feel anything but guilt. I tried to smile, to lighten the mood. “You’re really jealous, huh?”

His eyes darkened slightly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his hand moving to cup my cheek. “But can you blame me? He had you first. And now…” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “Now, I want you to be mine.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I nodded slightly, leaning into his touch, but the guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind. “I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” I whispered.

Franco smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then stop hurting yourself, hermosa. Let him go.”

——-

The start of the race crept closer, and the energy at the track shifted, growing more intense as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I stood in the grandstands, bundled in my coat as the cool desert air nipped at my skin. My heart pounded as the cars lined up on the grid, the roar of engines filling the air.

My eyes scanned the track, finding the familiar silver-and-neon yellow of Lewis’s Mercedes. My chest tightened as I thought about him, about the pain in his eyes when we’d spoken earlier. I wanted to run to him, to explain, to somehow make him understand that I never meant to hurt him. But I stayed rooted in place, watching as he climbed into his car, his helmet masking whatever emotions he was feeling.

Then my gaze drifted to the Williams garage, where Franco was preparing for the race. He looked so focused, so determined, and I felt a flicker of pride watching him. But the pride was tinged with anxiety. Somehow, I’d gotten myself tangled between these two men, and no matter how much I wanted to believe I could fix everything, I knew it wasn’t possible.

As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, I clenched my fists, my heart racing as fast as the cars on the track. This wasn’t just a race—it was the beginning of whatever came next. For me, for Lewis, for Franco.

And I wasn’t ready for any of it.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you

83 notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 1 year ago

Text

Playing the Part

actor!Eddie x actress!reader

summary: you and Eddie are playing the romantic leads in a movie. The only problem? You can’t stand each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) fingering, oral (f receiving), hurt/comfort

You and Eddie stood in the middle of the street, staring at each other like nothing else had mattered. No words had been exchanged between the two of you, but just from the looks in your eyes, it was obvious what you were feeling. Eddie pulled you into his arms as rain poured down on the two of you. It pelted your skin, making it cold and wet, but all you were thinking about was the man in front of you. Even soaked from the rain, he still somehow looked so angelic. Almost as if the rain made him look even better.

The man was looking at you with so much love that it was almost palpable. His brown doe eyes bored into yours, saying so much even though no words fell from his lips. He was always so good at telling you exactly how he felt just by looking at you. How exactly he did it, you’d never know.

“So you’ll marry me?” He asked and you grinned.

“Of course I will!” You exclaimed before pulling him into a deep kiss. His arms wrapped tighter around you, deepening the kiss by tilting your head backwards so he had more access to your lips.

“Cut!” A voice yelled from behind you and the two of you broke apart instantly. You wiped your mouth the with back of your hand while Eddie sprayed some breath stay into his mouth, looking at you with nothing but disgust.

It was needless to say that the two of you despised each other. It was obvious in the way you spoke to the other and the looks you shared. As soon as the two of you had been casted as the romantic leads for the film, everyone held their breath. You had hated each other since the moment you had locked eyes and they were honestly surprised that you both had actually agreed to work together.

The fact was, neither of you actually wanted to participate with the knowledge that you’d be working together let alone having to act as a couple, but the roles were forced upon you since both of your teams decided that your feud was childish and that if you had actually spent time together, you’d get along.

What a pipe dream that was. All you two had done was argue if you weren’t doing a scene. Off screen, you were absolutely insufferable together, but on screen, it was like magic. Your relationship almost seemed believable.

It had gotten to a point, though, where the pull was threatened to be pulled if you didn’t stop with your behavior. It wasn’t too late to cast a new couple and the director never failed to remind you of that. So, you put on smiles and faked like you were the best of friends only to argue once you were behind closed doors and sure that nobody could actually hear you.

Since so many members of the crew had seen you both go into your trailer so often, they had been convinced that you had been sleeping together. Which was laughable to the two of you, until it wasn’t.

You hadn’t meant to. It was merely an accident. You were trying to get a scene right which happened to involve a kiss and one of you was the one to deepen it and one thing led to another and you both somehow ended up naked. It wasn’t your fault that there was a perfectly good couch behind you. You were just trying to test it out. Turned out it wasn’t a very good one since it had broken just as you both were coming down from your orgasms.

A one time thing quickly turned into two times which turned into three until you were fucking each other on the regular. Sure, you hated the man’s guts, but even you could admit that he knew exactly how to please you and make you feel good.

Though, it seemed that you only were able to enjoy each other’s company when Eddie was inside of you since any time you had to kiss him for a scene, it felt forced and different to how he would kiss you behind closed doors. Those kisses were always rough, but at least you could tell that he was enjoying himself.

“Everyone take a break and then we’ll go again.” You should have known that the take hadn’t been good, but you really didn’t want to go again. Not if Eddie wasn’t going to put his all into it like you had.

You fled the set a quickly as you could and made a beeline for you trailer so you could have some peace and quiet. For once, you weren’t going to let Eddie in. You needed him to know that he couldn’t just fuck you whenever he wanted and that you weren’t going to continue your arrangement any longer. It was unprofessional and only made your relationship that much more confusing.

You sat down on the bed and collapsed onto it. Why did everything have to get so complicated? Why did your feelings have to get in the way? You could have easily continued what was going on between the two of you if your feelings for him hadn’t grown so strong. Perhaps it was foolish to fall for someone that you were only sleeping with, but you couldn’t help it.

There was a knock at your door but you ignored it. You knew exactly who it was and you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t without wanting to have sex with him and you couldn’t do that anymore. It had to end.

Even after telling him to go away, Eddie continued to knock. You always opened the door immediately and he wasn’t going to leave until he got answers as to why you were acting so differently. He thought he at least deserved that.

You eventually opened the door and Eddie stepped inside, grabbing onto your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips. It was rough just like always and despite knowing that you needed to push him away, you didn’t want to. You kissed him back, your hands curling into his hair as he stepped forward until you hit the bed. He licked into your mouth as he guided you to lay down on the bed, removing the flannel that you were dressed in as he did so.

His hand moved up your shirt and massaged your breast as he slid underneath your bra, his other hand moving up your back to unclasp your bra. You rested your hand on top of his to stop him and he looked up at you, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Want me to stop?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes,” you responded. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, you know that, right?” There it was again. The sweet behavior that only seemed to appear when you were in that position. Why was it so difficult to treat you that way when you weren’t alone?

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Your silence was freaking him out. You always usually had something to say. In fact, it was hard to get you to stop talking most days.

“You can continue,” you told him and he looked at you skeptically. You had changed your mind. You needed him right then, your pussy too wet to not have remedy it in some way.

“Y/n-”

“Eddie, please. Need you.”

“Y/n, I’m not sure that-”

“Then look at my sopping wet cunt and decide for yourself.” The lust returned to your eyes and Eddie slowly unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them down to your ankles. He then removed your underwear and just as you’d said, your cunt was in fact sopping wet.

“Look at you, darling,” he said, spreading your legs wide. “Need me that bad, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, okay? Gonna eat you so good.” With that, he removed your jeans and underwear from your legs and immediately shoved his fingers inside of you, the pure pleasure causing you to grip the blanket beneath you tight.

“Oh,” you moaned and Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, the only sounds that could be heard were the squelching of your pussy as Eddie moved his fingers in and out of you, your moans, and Eddie words of encouragement as he helped you through it.

“That’s right, angel,” he cooed. “Sound so pretty.” He kept his slow and steady pace as he moved his fingers with every intention of edging you, wanting you to beg for his mouth that you so desperately wanted on your cunt.

“Eddie, please,” you begged and he just looked at you with that mischievous grin. “If I could do it myself, I would.”

“Relax, angel. Let’s not get too impatient. “I’m gonna take care of you, remember?” With that, he removed his fingers from your cunt and replaced it with his face, diving in with no warning, causing you to gasp as he nose brushed just the right spot.

He took no time to graze it with his teeth, eliciting the most delicious sounds from your mouth. Your hands moved into his hair and you tightened your fists around the locks at his scalp, giving it a yank when he did something you particularly liked.

“So good, Eddie,” you whined. “Need more.” He swiped his tongue from your slit to your clit then began to suck on it, eating up both your beautiful moans and the way you were pulling on his hair. “Fuck,” you swore and that he took that as invitation to continue, deciding that he’d lick and suck until he had lapped up every single drop of your delectable slick.

“Sound like an angel, angel,” he said. “And you taste so fucking good. Could eat you all the time.”

Once he decided that you were ready, he stuck his tongue fully inside you and your back arched as he draped your legs over his shoulder, pulling you closer so he had more access to your pussy. He swirled it around as you pressed your legs against his head as your moans got louder and louder.

Your vision went hazy as you reached your orgasm and you reached for Eddie’s hands, giving them a squeeze as he continued to work his magic on your cunt, making sure to let you know just how much he was enjoying himself as he did so.

His tongue reached a spot that it never had before and it caused your back to arch the most that it could, your legs tightening around his head even more as you reached your peak.

“Eddie,” you practically screamed. “I love you.” The words that left your mouth caused you both to pause. You immediately sat up as Eddie removed his face from your cunt, his eyes growing just as wide as yours. He pulled your legs off of his shoulder, but stayed on the floor, resting his hands gently on your knees.

The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, both of you too afraid to be the first one to speak. You hadn’t meant to say it and certainly not while Eddie had been eating you out. But the words hung between you and you couldn’t take them back. They meant too much to do that.

“You love me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to tell you, but yes. I do.” His face lit up and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiled into it and you couldn’t help but mimic him, the kiss becoming harder to accomplish but that only made the two of you laugh.

“I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips. “So much that it hurts.” He tilted your head back to deepen the kiss just as there was a knock on your door, letting you know that it was time to go back to set.

“Guess we should go,” you said with a sigh.

“Guess we should,” he nodded, reaching for your underwear and jeans before helping you put them back on. He then helped you from the bed and you fled the trailer hand in hand to head to the set where you’d do your first scene as an official couple.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #actor!eddie #actress!reader #actor!eddie x actress!reader

316 notes · View notes