i want to eat a pretty boy out so bad i'm actually gonna lose my mind if i don't. i want push myself between his legs and tell him to spread his thighs. i want to tease him with a chuckle because of how flustered he is. i wanna trail kisses on his inner thighs as i place his legs on my shoulders slowly and tell him how good his skin feels on my lips. i wanna hear him let out a little gasp when i take his tdick in my mouth. i want his hips bucking into my face as he whines and buries his fingers into my locks. i wanna hum into his cunt and start lapping up his boypussy like it's my last meal and hear him react to every movement i make. i want to hold his thighs firmly to stop him from pushing his hips back and forth, to tell him to be patient with a smirk. i want to push my tongue inside him even when he comes and continue eating him out till he's crying from overstimulation because i want him to know how much he can take like the good boy he is.
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CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.
Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.
“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches.
Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.
Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either.
Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.
And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling.
“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order.
Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.
Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.
“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.
Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.
His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.
“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on.
“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.
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as is pretty obvious, the rockstar! eddie has not yet left the premises of my brain and will be staying there indefinitely so here’s a little something.
no upside down au, 2010s, eddie doesn’t know anyone from the party, but dustin finds out about this rockstar who writes songs about his dnd campaigns and makes tolkien references, but his music is also raw and haunting, so obviously he’s obsessed. he bothers steve about him until steve forfeits and buys them both tickets for the show in indianapolis. steve’s deaf and he hasn’t been to a concert from the point at which he lost his hearing, because he just feels weird and out of place even thinking about going to something that is so hearing-centered. he enjoys cranking up the music in his car or while he’s listening to it at home, but going to a concert always felt like taking a place from somebody who can enjoy the experience fully. robin told him it’s bullshit and tried to drag him to some venues before, but he never agreed. but well- he doesn’t trust dustin alone in a crowded venue, because he’s excitable and reckless (even though dustin’s “literally 18, god, steve, do you even fucking hear yourself-“) so he feels better going on a concert while actually fulfilling some important role.
they go, and dustin is ecstatic. steve is flabbergasted, because he didn’t expect to gain anything from this except peace of mind for dustin’s safety, but when the first song starts to play, it reverberates through his whole body. it’s not the same as the concerts he went to with his hearing still mostly intact, but he can hear the lower pitches, he can feel the beat thrumming through him, and he finds himself headbanging along with dustin by the end of the show. but because he generally just turned away when dustin was rambling about the ingenuity of the lyrics, dustin ends up spending half the concert scrambling to sign along with the lyrics as much as he can, at least on his favorite parts, because he can’t just let steve not experience the sheer “wholesomeness and coolness” of what’s going on. on some songs he just outright refuses to sign to steve, blushing, and when steve teases and prods dustin angrily admits that he’s “not going to translate to you exactly the way he wants to fuck a pretty boy”. steve laughs, but finds himself blushing too. because the frontman is scorching hot, and maybe steve wouldn’t mind finding out exactly the way he wants to fuck a pretty boy (but definitely not from dustin).
so even though his head started hurting by the end of the night from all the flashing lights on stage, even though he’s sweaty and gross and dustin is jumping around like an overexcited puppy, his hands flashing in rapid-fire speech steve doesn’t have the mental capacity to process at the moment, he finds that he enjoyed himself. that he, dare he say, would not mind going again. dustin goes ballistic at the admission and says that it’s only fair if steve takes him to another cc concert considering that dustin was too busy translating half the show too properly appreciate his first cc concert, which wouldn’t be necessary if steve “bothered to listen to him from time to time”.
afterwards, dustin posts a picture of both of them on twitter, sweaty and exhausted after the show, but both smiling wide with a caption: “took my lame brother to the cc concert yesterday!! he said “i could actually hear something, holy shit. just how loud are these guys? also, would like to know what the fuck the hot guy’s singing in the horny songs, but dustin refused to sign” which, obv i did because my brother is disgusting and i hate him actually. but now he owes me another concert because i spent most of the first one translating, so we’ll see you in *insert the nearest next city*, @corrodedcoffin-official!! thanks for the great show!!”
and eddie comes across the post purely by chance and immediately bluescreens at the sight of a preppy guy in a bright polo with exquisite fucking hair, thank you very much, hugging his toothily smiling little brother in a cc t-shirt. he never considered the issues the Deaf people can face coming to their shows before, and well, if the man wants to know exactly what eddie likes to do to pretty boys like him, it would be a shame to deny him. so he talks to the band, and they hire a sign language interpreter for the next show (and not just because eddie’s horny, okay?? he genuinely wants to let as much people as possible fully enjoy their music, fuck off, gareth-)
and when dustin and steve come to the next show and see an interpreter standing by the stage, they both fucking lose it. when dustin saw a like on his post from the official corroded coffin page, he obviously screamed bloody murder and told everyone who would (and wouldn’t) listen about it, steve just felt awkward about the hot frontman knowing the dumb shit he said, but neither of them expected anything to come of it. and now, seeing the interpreter near the stage, finally finding out the stories the group tells through their music, steve can’t help feeling mesmerized by the scene. and he doesn’t tear up about finally feeling included after being dismissed and told to deal with his shit on his own for so long, of course not.
and then, during the gap between the songs, eddie points to the interpreter: “i would like to say special thanks to amazing *insert name*, who agreed to translate our shitty music in asl so nobody could escape us. i hope dustin and his insanely hot brother can both enjoy the show properly now” he grins at the cheering audience, and steve feels himself flushing bright red all over. he can see the moment the frontman’s eyes find him in the crowd, and the guy has the gall to wink at him. dustin has ascended the mortal plane at that point and just screams incoherently while shaking steve by the arm. “and all the other deaf and hoh folks in attendance tonight, thank you for coming!” he continues smoothly, and the band slides into another song. steve just keeps staring at the stage, uncomprehending. he can vaguely recognize the slower and deeper track as one of those dustin refused to translate to him. and now, actually seeing the lyrics, he can understand why. he flushes again. it feels like his brain starts spinning in circles in his head from how hard he tries to keep his eyes on the interpreter and the frontman at the same time (the shit this munson guy does to the microphone stand with his hips has got to be illegal in at least several states). during the bridge munson finds his eyes in the crowd and obscenely licks his lips. steve dies on the spot. he can feel dustin hitting him on the arm, signing something about the way he “can’t believe your gross jock powers have worked on eddie munson” that steve barely sees from the corner of his eyes, but he can’t find it in himself to care.
and then steddie somehow meet face to face and make out, idk. the end! *jazz hands*
i’m NOT D/deaf or hoh!! if i said something dumb or inaccurate, please tell me!
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