#i love her very much. that is meg…..

[moonlightflower-queen]

Hit megzag with the yuri beam bc i felt like it

[yellowocaballero]

hi! i've been reading some of your older fics and was wondering if there's any merit in watching buffy for the first time in the year 2024

This may not be obvious, but this is actually an extremely complicated and highly subjective question. I'll try to go on for too long.

As background: my mother loved Buffy and its spin-off Angel growing up. It was our Bible (besides the actual Bible). Not kidding, she was on the forums and fan groups and wrote fanfiction for it and everything (These days, she's really into kdramas and Asian dramas, and calls me about how the Thai seem like big fans of gay people). So I'm quite biased.

BTVS is both a product of its times and ahead of its times. It was a show about feminism and the struggle of living in this world as a woman, when very few shows were doing that. It was the first show to have a long-lasting lesbian couple, and the first show to depict a kiss between them. For better or for worse, it was one of the codifiers of broody vampire boyfriend. It was pretty unafraid to be experimental in a lot of what it did. It had incredibly complex and nuanced character work and growth that I still aspire to. Spike's arc is still matched in quality only by Avatar's Zuko. Angel's long term arc, from Buffy to his spin-off series, still makes him one of the most complex characters on TV. It had the most complex depiction of depression on TV at the time and I still think it's one of the best. I think the show had very high highs.

It also had very low lows. Some of the feminism is problematic in retrospect. The sapphic couple has a rather famous element that was severely problematic. There are, overall, some deeply atrocious arcs that I can appreciate objectively but not in practice. Xander: a whole-ass character aged awfully. On a meta level, the workplace conditions were bad (thanks, Whedon.) There are no people of color. The spoiler's sake I won't go into detail on this, but in general the good stuff was so influential and the bad stuff was just awful.

I think these days people tend to brush off the entire thing because it's Whedon. That is more than fair. But I'd also say that Whedon & Buffy is extremely similar to Brian Michael Bendis & Ultimate Spider-Man. Bendis was fantastic at writing sassy, bouncy, permanently stressed-out teens - issue was, he wrote entirely different serious adult characters the way he wrote these sassy teens. Same with Whedon: the annoyingly constant quips are perfect for Buffy, because that's who the characters are. They're awful in Marvel, because Steve Rogers is not Xander. Kinda similarly, Buffy was genuinely feminist for 90s TV - issue is, Whedon has not grown or developed his views, and now his works feel so sexist (oh my fucking god why did you treat Natasha like that). After a certain point it's egotistical: you're writing like that because you're Joss Whedon and it's how you write, not because it's what's best for the characters and story. But it was really important to me to get the character voices right, and it's freaking difficult to endlessly write dialogue that distinct, full of voice, witty, and clever.

I think BTVS & Angel TV's greatest influence on my writing is how intensely character-driven both of those shows were, and how intricate the characters were. What every character did was something they would do, if that made sense. Even the stuff I hated to watch, that made me uncomfortable, was the culmination of so much (usually). I think I also picked up the constant wit and humor lol. On a personal level, the conversations I would have with my mother where she broke down the character motivations and composition of the story was my first exposure to looking at storytelling from an analytical perspective and a framework of critical analysis, which was an approach I carried into the rest of the media I consumed and that was the primary reason I was able to become a decent writer. Thanks, Mom. Have fun with your kdramas.

TL:DR: There is merit, especially if you care about good character work. There are things about it that may make you want to drop it, which is extremely valid. Season 1 is rough but interesting, Season 2 and 5 are the best, Season 3 is pretty good, Season 4 and 7 skippable, and Season 6 is........epic highs, epic lows......

[therestofmyfandoms]

"hey m any more shangri-la posts–" you bet your ass lets go

fucking FINALLY the GGC lets GO. HIZUTOME RAKURO MY BOYYY. okay now real talk

katzo shelling out like. so much fucking money for his buddies?? like obviously this competition is insanely important to him and also he's rich but like. poor hizutome is so out of his depth its hilarious.

speaking of sunraku, my boy made the gas mask decision last minute?? god thats so fuckin funny what. also i was kinda hoping his friends would get to see his face but honestly? what a power move. my guy takes anonymity SERIOUSLY

please please please let people realize who they are. i.e. the fact that they are the ones who defeated whethermon. or maybe dont because that would kinda add unnecessary drama to the story but i still absolutely want people to go ham over our trio of terrible people

okay i cannot finish this post without commenting on the new game, Galaxia Heroes: Chaos. IT'S A SUPERHERO GAME??? and not only is it a fighting game based on popular comics, but the brief glimpse we got of the mechanics is really interesting. its not just straight beat the other team, its be heroes and villains. SO cool. AND THE ART FOR IT??? THE CELL SHADING IN THE GAME??? HELLO??????

slf is a good show and you should watch it thank you for coming to my ted talk

[moeblob]

Another OC gift because it's another buddy's bday! And I like to draw gift art. And birthdays are such valid reasons to pester people to let me draw their children.

[no1ryomafan]

The subject of how female characters are portrayed in mecha rotates constantly in my head after I watch a mecha with at least one noteworthy female and I do want to at some point do a in depth discussion post about this-but at a way later time because there’s a lot of noteworthy shows I have not seen still to really properly comment and critique this part of the genre-but despite this I wanted to talk about Dorothy from Big O rq:

I’ve been thinking about how Dorothy is one of the better supporting females in the genre despite seeing at least one person point she’s a bit of a damsel in distress. I think what helps Dorothy is she’s not always kidnapped, she has a good amount of episodes where she’s the central focus and not helpless, but for every time she’s kidnapped it seems to wrap around with her saving Roger. The biggest examples I can think of this the third Beck episode where Roger is the one who’s kidnapped and Dorothy manages to outsmart Beck despite him originally kidnapping and controlling her twice-making it super satisfying she finally got back at him-and the finale, where somehow Dorothy, without her memories managed to come back online to recuse Roger and aids him in the finale fight. Dorothy’s entire character arc is about her doing her own thing, BEING her own person, so it makes sense why she’s a bit of a subdivision of the regular damsel in distress. She still gets kidnapped but she’s not helpless and usually returns the favor to Roger, making every time Roger *does* have to recuse her seem out of genuine care and not “this girl I like is in danger and helpless!” (especially because Roger didn’t fully realize her feelings for her until the very end)

That said, even if I think Dorothy is a well done take of a otherwise really bad trope that plagues female characters since she does very much have agency, one thing on reflection that does irk me a bit that would’ve made her character a tad more satisfying is if Dorothy *actually* got to properly pilot Big O:

Every time we’ve seen her in the robots it’s only either been she was unconscious/defenseless-I. E. ep 4 and ep 9-or at the aid of Roger. While the latter is more common, and like I said in the finale she is still very important in helping in the finale fight as she uses herself to power up Big O, multiple times before we have seen her capable of being able to pilot it. Big O may like Roger the most, it is his robot, but it also recognizes Dorothy cares about him just as much as it does, so I think it would’ve been cool even if it was for one episode if she got to pilot it instead, whether it be because Roger got injured or kidnapped.

Or maybe I’m just nitpicking a little and really like the idea of “robot operating a robot” since Dorothy is still one of the best supporting females in the genre, but just because they’re supporting doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be allowed to fully pilot the robot at least once. : p

[cloama]

Andre 3000 told y'all all those years ago, "The South got something to say." Keep underestimating hiphop artists with southern drawls and see how it works out for y'all.

[hip-to-my-jive]

Looking for unexpired spices or matching sheets at my grandma's like

[umbracirrus]

Actually quite enjoying editing and rewording The Perfect Storm right now. It's all minor changes and updating sentence structure and trying to make things flow a bit more naturally but I'm enjoying it.

[tojbnuy]

little halloween drabble!! 🎃 ps: toji is definitely the type of dad to cut into every piece of candy megumi got before letting him eat it. (likes reblogs always appreciated <3)

“right go on buddy go knock.”

toji watched as his son waddled towards the door ahead of him. he had to admit megumi looked really fucking cute. he had been going on and on about dressing up as mario for halloween so toji had done what any good dad would do and he bought him the full costume. the kid even had a fake mustache stuck to his upper lip.

“and remember to say please and thank you megs okay?”

“yes daddy i know.” megumi replied with a little too much sass in his tone.

his little fist knocked a couple times on the door until it opened and then there was. you. toji was a bit too focused on laughing at his sons costume that he hadn’t realised someone dressed up as bat-woman had opened the door. toji himself was dressed up as batman (if you could call keeping the batman mask atop his head dressing up). you were matching. and you were fucking gorgeous. toji was busy taking in your long bare legs when he heard the sudden screech leave you at the sight of his son.

“oh don’t you look adorable!!”

he was definitely gonna buy megumi some pizza on the way back after this.

“uh thank you. trick or treat?”

“hold on let me grab my bowl of candy.”

toji couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you as you turned your back on them. you returned with a massive pumpkin shaped bowl full to the brim with sweets and wrapped cakes.

“go on honey take as much as you like.”

and megumi did not take that sentence lightly. toji scoffed as his son grabbed as much as his chubby hands could carry and stuffed it into his bucket, all the while you grinned and cooed at the boy infront of you.

“does daddy want some?”

toji looked at you and the smirk on your face at your little question.

“nah i’m good thank you.”

just as megumi was about to turn back to his dad toji reminded him, “say thank you baby.”

“thank you baby.” megumi very confidently turned to you and said and you had all but melted. you were in a fit of giggles now as toji held a palm up to his face. megumi looked up at his dad wondering what the commotion was about.

“sorry about that.”

“no you’re good, that’s just made my night.”

you were just staring at each other now, neither of you wanting to break away without saying something more.

“hey we’re matching.” and there was something about your smile. he couldn’t get enough.

“yeah i realised.”

god what should he say. he didn’t want to just ask for your number he was clearly older than you.

“haven’t seen you around here before you new?”

“yeah i uh moved in last week.”

he watched every word come out of your pink painted lips. watched as you tucked a strand of black hair behind your ear.

“daddy why are you staring?”

that got another laugh out of you as you ruffled little megumis hair. there was a small hue of pink now dusting your cheeks however.

“nothing brat. well i’ll see you around then.”

“yeah hopefully.” and with one last smile and wave at megumi you closed your front door and toji was left standing there staring at your closed door and wondering if and when would be the next time he saw you.

“do you love her?”

“what??”

“you keep staring at her it’s weird.”

“i’ll be eating your candy when we get home.”

a/n : do we want a part 2 ? 🤨

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 1

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: What are you going to tell him when he asks about your job again? Lie. That's what.

Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my Harry Castillo story. This unicorn gutted me last weekend with that horn of his and I haven't been able to scrub him from my mind. I needed a little break from Din and his Earthling and Harry was just what the doctor ordered! So please enjoy this fun exercise in the meantime. I'd like to thank my crazy best friends for their encouragement and @whocaresstillthelouvre for inspiring me to want to write a camgirl story with her Din Djarin AU Fifteen (Go read it if you haven't). Harry was giving Richard Gere in Pretty Woman at times and so I found myself struck with inspiration to write a sex worker character. So the inspo here is certainly drawing from Pretty Woman, Anora, and Fifteen but with my own spin on things. This will be a liar revealed story with some angst, so be warned! I'm a big baby about angsty fics usually so we'll see how this goes.

Warnings: Reader is a sex worker/camgirl; Reader is thick/curvy but with minimal physical descriptions; Reader smokes weed; Harry desperately wants to fall in love; Lying is stressful and bad; Cursing; No smut yet, but there is a reference to Cam's sessions; Mild descriptions of sex toys in use; Again, reader is a sex worker so this story is going to be riddled with smut.

Minors DNI, strictly 18+ as always

Ao3

*****

Harry Castillo was fairly certain he was incapable of love. Even after what Lucy said the night she dumped him, he wasn't sure that was truly in the cards for him. God he felt so fucking silly and childish for wanting it so fucking bad. Harry was certain that he thought about love more than he assumed most men his age in his line of work do. Certainly more than he ever expected to as a young man. 

He'd wanted to propose to Lucy because she was the closest he's ever come to what he supposed the possibility of it feels like. Creeping up on 50 with his parents breathing down his neck about how he was far too old to be playing the debonair millionaire bachelor routine anymore felt like enough of a reason to wed her. He respected her, he felt like he could trust her, and he definitely enjoyed fucking her. But she'd been right when she said he didn't love her. He didn't, not in that way he felt so foolish for dreaming about. Something was missing with her, and he supposed that was it.   

Perhaps, had that final encounter in his kitchen ended differently, he could have eventually felt it with her. But he wasn't sure if that was even true or just more wishful thinking. So, disappointed as he was, Harry knew it was probably for the best not to allow Lucy to waste her life on wishful thinking. 

He's dated large handfuls of women and he's sure he's never once felt it. Women from good families and backgrounds, as well as some women with some not so great credentials. All shapes and sizes. Good choices and some not so good ones in his younger days.

But he's never felt that fluttering feeling that gets deep in his chest when he's all by himself indulging in his guiltiest of pleasures; a film with some good romance in it. When Billy Crystal is giving his big speech to Meg Ryan at the end of When Harry Met Sally , and Harry Castillo sits there drinking wine and fighting back tears, there's this swelling ache of wanting deep inside of him. No one's ever made him feel that .

Harry saw that feeling on Lucy's face when the ex-boyfriend interrupted them at the wedding, and again the night Harry accompanied her to her ex-boyfriend's play. Try as Lucy wanted to deny it to herself, the two of them were still very much in love. He heard they'd run to the courthouse and gotten married shortly after his and Lucy's breakup, and that was when he had his assistant return the engagement ring. 

A few dates with women from Adore were enough to turn him off of their services very quickly, and he canceled that account after only one month.

Matchmaking, surgeries, expensive dates? How much money was it going to cost him to find someone to share his life with? Poor people fall in love all the time. Constantly. In New York City it's everywhere. People are sickeningly sweet and publicly showing the world that they are it for each other even when they have nothing else. The public displays of emotion have always baffled him, much as he would like to know what compels a person to act like that without a care of who sees.

Perhaps that really is the key, and he's been looking at this all wrong. Lucy said that she was the type to fight in the middle of the street, and then she went and married the guy whom Harry assumes that little anecdote had been about. What does passion like that feel like with another person? 

Harry Castillo is a man who has everything in the world a man could ever want. But he doesn't have that. And until he met you, he was certain he never would. 

*****

“Stop everything and get your nicest fucking outfit together! Chop! Chop! We've got somewhere to be!” Vanessa, your roommate of eight years and your ride or die comes bursting into your bedroom as you lay across the bed with a book out in front of you. Her tan skin and dark hair are a contrast to the light pink silky dress she's wearing. The frock is far more elegant than things she usually wears to go out, similar to the dress Carrie wore to the prom. She's got her hair up in a tasteful bun with a few locks framing her face, and the nicest jewelry she owns. 

Eyes narrowing at your friend, you take in her appearance for a long moment knowing full well that she's once again up to no good. “What are you talking about? We definitely do not have plans. It's my night off and I was finally getting to the good smut in this romance novel. This and takeout sushi are the only things on my agenda for tonight, thank you very much.”

Vanessa scoffs, coming over to the bed to slam the book shut and read the title. She gives no fucks about making you lose your place or pinching your finger, and you glare at her as she giggles and looks back at you. “Do you want to lay in bed and fantasize about some vampire prince all night or do you want to come with me to a super fancy charity event for the Puerto Rican youth centers around the city?”

Eyebrows raising, your interest is certainly piqued. “What charity event? You're not charitable and usually you have to donate to these causes to get into these events.”

“This one is at work,” Vanessa clarifies. She works as a waitress at a prestigious restaurant and events venue. The kind of place you could have never afforded on your own before your career shift and you're certainly not well-to-do enough to get invited to kinds of high-end events that take place there. Vanessa has seen some of the most important people in New York at this job. 

Your line of work allows for a very comfortable lifestyle, but life in New York is still expensive and there are corners of this city not meant for people of your social stature. Vanessa's work is most certainly one of those places.

“If you picked up an extra shift, I'm not going to come work it with you if that's what you're asking. I'm doing just fine with money these days if you haven't noticed.” As you say this, you sit up finally and lean over to grab the bong and lighter off your nightstand. Flicking the green bic, you take a decent size pull and enjoy the sound of the water bubbling before blowing it out and sitting it back down. 

“Yes, yes. The little internet goth slut routine is finally paying off. Good for you,” Vanessa says with a roll of the eyes. She still hasn't given up on her dream of stage acting like you did a few years ago, but she would never truly shame you for your line of work. You know she’s kidding. 

You moved to New York after dropping out of college to chase your dreams. A few years of rejections and a crappy play here or there got old after a while. It slowly became apparent to you that you moved to New York not to chase some dream of being creative in the way that your friend did. You moved to New York to chase after the dream of a very specific high-end lifestyle. A lifestyle which allows for the nicest luxuries life has to offer, and that requires much more money than that of a bartender and struggling stage actress. Now you find that acting behind a camera is more your thing. 

Only you tend to do it with little to no clothes on... and most of the time with a toy stuffed in one or both of your holes as you act out whatever depravity your clients are paying you for. The more depraved the more they pay. 

You're an online sex worker, though very few people actually know this about you besides Vanessa. 

In order to hide your identity you've created a character and a look which, truthfully, doesn't betray who you really are all that much. The market for slightly chunky, vaguely goth girls in the world of online sex is very high. You were already both of those things to begin with, so with some wigs and some drastic makeup, you easily make yourself into someone else when the camera is rolling in the spare room you've turned into your studio. You pay more of the rent to use the extra room, and the investment proved to be well worth it in the end. You've got yourself a nice little empire going, and you're making more money than you've ever had in your life. So much money it's shocking every time you check your bank account.  

You used to think that the ultimate dream was to find yourself a rich husband, but learning to take what you want out of life without someone else giving it to you has changed your perspective on the matter entirely. If you meet a man you intend to marry, you want that marriage to be based solely on love. A rich husband wouldn't hurt, of course, but then again what little girl from a poor family in a shitty small town doesn't dream of a Cinderella story all her own? The love of your life could be on the verge of poverty or have the highest salary in Manhattan. So long as he loves you, respects you, and doesn't care that you made your fortune helping lonely, desperate men and women to achieve orgasm starting at $300 a session… Sometimes up to twenty five sessions a week.

And you are so hopelessly and desperately craving real love in the way that your clients crave real sex. It's the one thing you feel you don't have now that you find you aren't wanting for anything else. 

$400 haircut? No problem. $500 coat you just had to have and couldn't possibly live without? It's yours. And damn does it look good on you. A weekend trip to Italy just for pasta and wine? Why the hell not?

But the one thing you really crave in the middle of the night is to be held by someone who loves everything about you, good and bad. Someone you can't help but love back. 

“Dude, fuck off. I swear I'm going to just go without you since you're not even listening to me. High ass bitch,” Vanessa says with a disappointed huff, but just as she turns to leave your room she stops in the threshold and turns her head to throw a devilish smirk over her shoulder. “I guess I was wrong about you wanting to see our mutual favorite musician perform a super secret private charity concert. Oh well. I guess I'll have to let you know if he's really that hot in person since you're going to stay home and read .”

That pulls your attention from your stoned thoughts, and your eyes widen. “Wait, Van! What are you fucking saying? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I dunno, are you going to listen to your best friend or not?”

“Yes, bitch! I'm sorry. Tell me!”

“Well you know I'm seeing Charles now,” Vanessa starts, and you can't help but roll your eyes. Charles is the only thing Vanessa has talked about for the last four months. He's British, he’s hot, and he owns the events venue side of the business. They've been seeing each other in secret, so as not to give the appearance of favoritism. If you had to guess, he'll be proposing by Christmas with how in love they seem to be. 

You're only a little jealous.

“How could I forget Charles ,” you say his name in a deep, sexy voice. One you use for work all the time. 

“ Ew , don't do that,” Vanessa cringes with a scrunched nose. Then she shakes her head, glaring at you playfully. “Anyway, jerk , Charles informed me this morning who the secret guest at the charity event is going to be. When I lost my mind and told him how much we love this person, Charles told me he would sneak me and you in if we promise to keep a low profile and behave ourselves. He made someone switch shifts with me just so we can do this! God, he really is the best boyfriend, isn't he?”

So much for the appearances of favoritism. He's definitely going to propose. But that's irrelevant, as you scramble to get up to your feet and move for your closet to find one of your best dresses. Ignoring Vanessa's gushing over Charles, you ask, “You can't be seriously talking about who I think you're talking about. Can you?! ”

*****

Harry Castillo finds himself bored to tears at yet another hoity-toity charity event. This one is for the Puerto Rican youth centers that are in dire need of renovations and staffing. Being the richest man in Manhattan with a Latin American family background, it's fairly expected that Harry both donate to and attend events like this when it is something that benefits the Hispanic community. The cause itself does mean something to him personally, but that doesn't mean he finds these kinds of events to be terribly interesting. It's always the same, and once one's been to twenty of these things it gets incredibly old. He’s been to countless of them since he was a young man. 

The only difference tonight is that the guests are speaking Spanish more than he would hear at this sort of event and the food is culturally influenced. Though it warms him a little to have things feel less stuffy in that way, Harry's still bored out of his mind. 

After rubbing elbows with uninteresting people he doesn't really care for and making enough of an appearance, Harry feels on the verge of leaving before the concert even starts. There have been rumors whispered throughout the elegant venue all evening about who is to perform, but even the anticipation of a surprise musical guest isn't enough to make Harry want to stay. 

No, not until he accidentally bumps into the shoulder of a woman in her mid thirties waiting to order a drink at the open bar. He was figuring one more before calling for his driver, and he hadn't seen you standing there a moment ago. 

“Excuse me, miss, that was my fault.” Harry apologizes, jaw dropping a little as you turn to look up at him through thick lashes. 

When your eyes really cast over his face, they widen in a comically cute look of shock. Harry's a little beside himself as he takes in your face. It's beautiful, strikingly so. You're a little thicker than the girl who stands behind you in a plain pink dress, filling out your own tight, form fitting wine-red dress with curves he could get lost in. The garment looks expensive, more so than the pink dress. The pink dress is silky, whereas Harry's certain that the red dress is the real thing. It's got spaghetti straps, and a scooped neckline showing off impressive cleavage. You've paired it with black jewelry and black heels. Perfect hair in a well styled bun, but with pieces falling in your face. Tastefully simple makeup to bring out your eyes, and an air about you that says you do well for yourself. The friend looks a little out of place at an event like this, pretty as the other girl is with similar hair and makeup. The beauty in red, though, you look like you're right where you belong. But he's sure he's never seen you around before. He'd remember that face.

“That's okay, you barely bumped into me.” You say to him with a sweet smile, bowing your head a little in thanks. You seem like a nice girl to him at that moment, and he briefly thinks back to when he told Lucy he just wants a nice girl, and that he didn't care about credentials on a checklist. If you're nice, that also means you definitely don't run with this crowd very often. Perhaps you aren't so stuck up as the rest of the women here. It certainly comes off that way when you smile so sweetly up at him like that. He’s much taller than you are. Thank Christ for that stupid fucking surgery. 

“I've never noticed you at one of these charity concerts before. I'm Harry,” he says, extending a hand. You look down at it briefly as if you haven't shaken a hand in a long while, eyebrows raising slightly as your rouged lips part. Again, your expression is so cute that Harry's a little beside himself, stomach lurching as you slowly slip a slender hand into his much larger one. He'd purposefully offered her his left hand so that he can see if you're wearing a wedding ring or not. There's a black ring on the middle finger... a bat? Oddly enough? He looks back at you and notices that your earrings also appear to be black bats, dangling upside down with their wings crossed in slumber. Interesting choices. 

You introduce herself, shaking his hand twice before letting it drop. Harry just lets it hang there dumbly for a moment as you add, “And you've never seen me at one of these because this is my first time at one. My friend Vanessa here dragged me.”

“She won't be acting like such a professional party pooper in a little bit.” The other girl, Vanessa, says confidently with a bit of an accent to her speech pattern. He's certain she's a Spanish speaker, but not the one he suddenly finds himself interested in. He can't place the origins of your accent quite yet. 

“Ohhh, so you're a professional party pooper? I was just about to ask what you do for a living.” Harry says, flashing his best teasing, but charming smile at you. He worries that he shouldn't have teased you so quickly after meeting you, though, when a look of mild panic washes over your face. 

*****

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck do I say?

Your eyes meet the deep brown ones of the attractive man who suddenly approached you at this event that you originally didn't even want to come to, and nervousness floods your system for a brief moment. This man is painfully handsome. So much so that his face is enough to throw you off your game for a good couple of seconds. Then you feel Vanessa pinch your ass, and you sober up enough to quip back with something. 

“Oh I'm number one in the business.” You say with a little bit of a giggle, hoping to deflect back to him for a moment as you add, “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I run a financial firm my mother started. Nothing exciting.” 

“A woman-founded company! That is so exciting!”

“Yeah,” he fake sighs, shaking his head, “but unfortunately for her she had two sons. Her dream of a woman owned company was shattered when I had to take over.” 

You nod thoughtfully. “Oh, bummer . Like a reverse kingdom where the king wants sons. I'm sure that gave you a complex growing up.”

Harry grins, flashing perfect white teeth. Lord have mercy on your soul when he does that. “Oh most certainly,” he says, laughing, “but I just drink about it. Do you want one?”

Also grinning, you agree, “Sure, I'll take a vodka soda with a splash of grenadine and lime.”

“So you are sweet, then,” Harry says with a raised brow, grin morphing into a confident smirk. 

Your pulse quickens at the flirtation. “When I wanna be,” you flirt back, “I did only ask for a splash after all.”

“I'm gonna go find Charlie before the concert starts, can I leave you here?” Vanessa asks from somewhere behind you. You don't even turn around, nodding as you look up into the brown eyes that have a complete hold over you. She'll understand that you're not trying to be rude. This man is simply too beautiful to tear your gaze from him. 

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” you say, watching him as he nods a goodbye to Vanessa and then finishes making his way up to the bar. He slides in next to you and orders your drink, then a Manhattan for himself. As he leans against the bar, you're truly taking in his appearance. About six feet tall, clearly wealthy, and clearly at least ten years older than you. His hair is a wavy dark brown, likely curly when left natural. But tonight he styled it with what is surely an expensive product. There isn't much gray on his head, but there are little patches of it nestled in the neatly kept short facial hair on his chin. His dark mustache adds such an extra layer of sex appeal to his appearance. It's obvious that he works out and eats well. He's got beautiful tan skin, and his hands look big and strong sticking out of the sleeves of his finely tailored black suit. Ironically, his tie and pocket square match your dress almost perfectly. 

Thank Christ you went with this one. You truly feel your best in this thing. The first splurge for your closet after you started making serious money from your cam sessions. You'd never spent over two hundred dollars on a single piece of clothing before, and the feeling of trying it on at the high end boutique you bought it from and actually walking out with it was elating. There was no turning back after that. Vanessa had called you materialistic. You'd told her that life is too short not to be. 

What are you going to tell him when he asks about your job again?

Lie. That's what.

*****

Next

Masterlist

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

-

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

_

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

-

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

[startheskelaton]

Okay so since we know that a TFP version of Sparkplug exists…that got my inner Prime fan, brain thinking, and I sudden had some questions regarding Sparkplug Prime.

So like how did the bots even discover her, like was she really dramatically unveiled by Megs? Or was it more of an accident, and they found her during a big fight? Cause she was still fairly young into of the images we saw her, while her more mature, form seems to be hinting at her future.

Plus did the bits really take her back to their base? Cause if Acree is comparing her stare with one of her dads, then I assume Team Prime does ‘capture’ her, and brings her back to outpost omega one. But that raises even more questions…

Like how do the rest of the hits react to her? I assume Acree is going to be very protective of her seeing how she’s the one holding her? What are the Kids and Folwer(and by extension his bosses the U.S government) reactions cause the bots can’t exactly hide a Sparkling meant to be the ultimate Optimus killer.

Plus since we know that Sparkplug is a member of a trio, does that mean a version of her friend’s Soundblaster, and Nightflyer exits?

Someone wanted to know more about her, and I felt like drawing her so why not. I image she ended up in the hands of the autobots because of Starscream. He saw how much Megatron fussed over her and immediately knew his ass was about to be replaced. Seeing an easy target to dispatch, he literally just kicked her out the ship during a battle and said the autobots must’ve dispatched her.

Megatron is obviously heartbroken and Starscream uses this to get a little bit more control for the time being.

Meanwhile, Arcee finds this little sparking in the middle of nowhere and due to survivors guilt, takes her back to the base.

Due to her intense power, they decide to take her in and hopefully raise her to be kind. This all being while Megatron still tries to look for her (I image he takes her when Megatron steals Optimus prime). She ends up getting rather attached to Jack’s mom, as well as Ratchet. This Sparkplug actually wants to be a medic and does her best to help… even if she’s a little destructive.

Miko loves her, seeing her as a little destructive creature with good intentions. Jack is more upset that he’s getting suck with babysitting duties. And Raph is happy to not be the youngest anymore.

I image her older version would appear in “Robots in disguise”, showing up to glare at bumblebee and force him to get his shit together instead of Optimus. (My version Optimus stays gone because we want Bee to have proper character development)

Nightflyer would probably be one of the animal themed deceptions that trained under Starscream, starting in his predicon form.

Soundblaster would probably still be a attempt to make another Soundwave since he’s still trapped in the fucking shadow realm

[yeoldenews]

While we’re on the subject of names, is there an explanation for how traditional nicknames came about that are seemingly unrelated to, or have little in common with, the original name?

ie- John/Jack, Richard/Dick, Henry/Harry/Hank, Charles/Chuck, Margaret/Peggy/Daisy, Sarah/Sally, Mary/Molly, Anne/Nan, etc

I am actually over a week into researching a huge follow-up post (probably more than one if I’m being honest) about the history of nickname usage, so I will be going into this in much, much more detail at a hopefully not-so-later date - if I have not lost my mind. (Two days ago I spent three hours chasing down a source lead that turned out to be a typographical error from 1727 that was then quoted in source after source for the next 150 years.)

As a preview though, here’s some info about the names you mentioned:

The origins of a good portion of common English nicknames come down to the simple fact that people really, really like rhyming things. Will 🠞Bill, Rob🠞Bob, Rick🠞Dick, Meg🠞Peg.

It may seem like a weird reason, but how many of you have known an Anna/Hannah-Banana? I exclusively refer to my Mom’s cat as Toes even though her name is Moe (Moesie-Toesies 🠞 Toesies 🠞 Toes).

Jack likely evolved from the use of the Middle English diminutive suffix “-chen” - pronounced (and often spelled) “-kyn” or “kin”. The use of -chen as a diminutive suffix still endures in modern German - as in “liebchen” = sweetheart (lieb “love” + -chen).

John (Jan) 🠞 Jankin 🠞 Jackin 🠞 Jack.

Hank was also originally a nickname for John from the same source. I and J were not distinct letters in English until the 17th Century. “Iankin” would have been nearly indistinguishable in pronunciation from “Hankin” due to H-dropping. It’s believed to have switched over to being a nickname for Henry in early Colonial America due to the English being exposed to the Dutch nickname for Henrik - “Henk”.

Harry is thought to be a remnant of how Henry was pronounced up until the early modern era. The name was introduced to England during the Norman conquest as the French Henri (On-REE). The already muted nasal n was dropped in the English pronunciation. With a lack of standardized spelling, the two names were used interchangeably in records throughout the middle ages. So all the early English King Henrys would have written their name Henry and pronounced it Harry.

Sally and Molly likely developed simply because little kids can’t say R’s or L’s. Mary 🠞 Mawy 🠞 Molly. Sary 🠞 Sawy 🠞 Sally.

Daisy became a nickname for Margaret because in French garden daisies are called marguerites.

Nan for Anne is an example of a very cool linguistic process called rebracketing, where two words that are often said/written together transfer letters/morphemes over time. The English use of “an” instead of “a” before words beginning with vowels is a common cause of rebracketing. For example: the Middle English “an eute” became “a newt”, and “a napron” became “an apron”. In the case of nicknames the use of the archaic possessive “mine” is often the culprit. “Mine Anne” over time became “My Nan” as “mine” fell out of use. Ned and Nell have the same origin.

Oddly enough the word “nickname” is itself a result of rebracketing, from the Middle English “an eke (meaning additional) name”.

I realized earlier this week that my cat (Toe’s sister) also has a rebracketing nickname. Her name is Mina, but I call her Nom Nom - formed by me being very annoying and saying her name a bunch of time in a row - miNAMiNAMiNAM.

Chuck is a very modern (20th century) nickname which I’ll have to get back to you on as I started my research in the 16th century and am only up to the 1810s so far lol.

[muletia]

I know you mentioned on your OP+Megs+Ratchet ask adding in one or both of the scouts, but I can't help but imagine the sheer unparalleled comedy(ish) of the Autobots watching their entire high command (aka OP, Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, of all mecha) go gaga over some poor human. I think the other Autobots would be taking the human out for a spin if only so they can get a breather from everything. (I think Wheeljack would do it more/most often specifically because he knows it'll piss Ultra Magnus off.)

I also have the idea of Ultra Magnus almost being a stop gap for the other two's behavior for one reason or another (at least until he finds out that Megs is gunning for the human too).

Your ideas are excellent either way though👌

this is the post anon is referring to

never been a huge magnus fan in the show but I adore this concept!

To be honest, obsessed!Ultra Magnus would be the most exhausting to be around — and above all, the most tedious — of the entire Autobot Trinity, due to his pedantry and ironclad adherence to rules that weigh heavily on you as well. He’s intense, always keeping a vigilant optic on you, monitoring your every move to ensure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. After all, the native life forms of this planet are especially fragile and must be protected 24/7, right? So, Ultra Magnus approaches Optimus for permission to take you under his care. To protect you from the Decepticons, of course. It’s not because his little fascination with you is slowly evolving into something deeper — a bond compelling him to stay close to you.

And Optimus agrees because he trusts Magnus and knows you’re in good hands, as he constantly worries about you himself.

The problem is that Magnus’s company is suffocating. Want to leave the base to get some fresh air, have a smoke, or just take a moment for yourself? The SIC of the Autobots is always a step behind, firmly reminding you that you can’t leave the hangar without Optimus’s permission. Don’t make him resort to bringing you back by force.

You can’t even hide in the base, find a quiet corner, and do your own thing, because one of them is always watching. Most often, it’s Ultra Magnus, who immediately gives you a lecture about staying within their line of sight—so you don’t accidentally get stepped on. It’s just an excuse, of course; Magnus simply has a stick so far up his aft that he can’t just admit he loves your company and feels strangely anxious and lost when you’re not around.

His microscopic knowledge of humans will also cause you countless headaches. All it takes is a sneeze, and Ultra Magnus is already dragging you to Ratchet, convinced you’re dying. And Ratchet takes your health matters very seriously, so you end up spending several minutes in the medbay, undergoing a thorough checkup. All the while, you are subjected to the medic’s grumbling about taking better care of yourself, under the intense gaze of the SIC of the Autobots, who’s tracking your every move and patiently waiting for the verdict.

The worst, however, is when you find yourself with the entire Holy Trinity in the base. None of them will ask you outright, “How was your day?” but everyone is dying to listen. This leads to a scenario where the Autobot elite huddles around you, hearts practically glowing in their optics, as you talk about workplace gossip or your current hobbies. The rest of the world ceases to exist for them. If the team wants their competent high command back, they have no choice but to pry them away from you.

Enter Wheeljack, who will occasionally whisk you away for private flying sessions in his ship, giving you a much-needed break. I think Arcee would take you for a ride a few times as well, unable to bear the sight of her superiors practically drooling over you. The long and detailed scolding they’ll receive from Magnus upon your return is another matter…

The SIC of the Autobots will immediately scoop you up into his servos before you can take another step and carry you straight back to Ratchet and Optimus, who can never get enough of your presence.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

one of the reasons why i love ToA so much is the little bits and pieces of the gods we get to see.

so i guess this is really more of a 'this is why i love the gods so much' rather than my usual 'this is why i love ToA' post lmao

but fr, the gods are just sooooo much more fleshed out in ToA. they're more complex, and have these layers to them that pjo and hoo just Did Not convey (and really, only conveyed those things post publication of ToA, which came with the tools on how to decode the gods and read between the lines).

and i'm not even talking about Apollo here. he is by far the most fleshed out god we have because he's the pov character, but i also mean all 12 of the other olympians - they're just so juicy!!

like okay, sure, in pjo and hoo we get glimpses that Dionysus may care more than he lets on, but ToA CONFIRMS this, but not in an 'in your face' way - but in the 'Dionysus picks at Apollo like a little brother would' way, and in that FIRST interaction between Apollo and Dionysus, we can SEE what their relationship was like!!

Hermes is another VERY layered god, ESPECIALLY with pjo's context. but that context ONLY gains its own importance BECAUSE of the story ToA gives us - we would NOT have 'resigned to fate' Hermes without it. or embittered at his favorite brother Hermes. we love this Hermes eheheheheheheh

Artemis also gains more character, and is no longer just the stoic cool badass #Girlboss she's largely presented as - she's scared, she fears for Apollo, so much so she SPLITS. she comes RUNNING to help him in TTT as soon as she could, giving her a softer side, while simultaneously expands on her previous appearances and allowing us to see how she is unconsciously enabling the abuse Apollo's experienced. LAYERS !! !! !!

DEMETER. OOOHHH DEMETER ILY, IN MYTHOLOGY AND THE RRVERSE. BUT FOR COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS LMAO

we can infer Demeter has basically shot herself in the foot by obsessing so much over Persephone, where she NEGLETS her other kids (ex: Lityerses, Meg). myth Demeter would NEVER but rrverse Demeter is still a fav BECAUSE of how flawed she is.

ARESSSSS do i even need to say anything. we KNOW Ares and Apollo are bros because of how often Apollo takes pot-shots at him in his dialogue LMAO true brother behavior

Hades is a chill uncle with Apollo in particular. i mean. *gestures* he used to purposefully mess up Apollo's aim when shooting for no reason. need i say more?

looking back i'm also a little intrigued by how little Poseidon was mentioned - perhaps lending credence to the idea that he and Apollo grew apart over the centuries?

also Hestia's position as the goddess of the hearth and home calls into question how passive she is on olympus BECAUSE of the shitshow it's become!! she defends it!! what has caused the hearth and home, the FIRSTBORN OF KRONOS, of the ENTIRE PANTHEON to be so stagnant in the face of this toxic cycle? the people want to know and so do i.

Hephaestus is trickier to pin down for me because he has little mention, but there's one SPECIFIC one that has stuck in my brain and its the "apollo missed an entire decade watching Hephaestus's newton's cradle INSIDE HIS OFFICE"

what was apollo doing in his office. and why did hephaestus - notorious introvert - let him stay in there. these are the questions we are all dying to know.

ATHENAAAAAAA !! !! !! !! !! that nod she gives apollo at the end. her bet on his SUCCESS. need i say more? she's bros with him trust <3 add in the mythology and it gets SPICY

Aphrodite is arguably a tricky one to pin down too, and honestly we as a fandom have probably taken more from the mythos to pin down her character than with the others, but she's sooooo interesting too!! the eldest olympian. powerful goddess. extremely cunning and ruthless. and yet she's seen as airheaded and vain by practically everyone.

makes you wonder who else is like that. *quick glance at our favorite god* i dunno who that could be. *whistles innocently*

and do i need to say anything about Zeus? about the tragedy of him falling into the cycle he was meant to break? ABOUT THE TRAGEDY OF HOW HE DEF WANTED TO BE A FATHER BUT HIS PARANOIA GOT THE BETTER OF HIM UNTIL HE NO LONGER WAS ONE??

*seizes you by the shoulders* HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS. HOW.

and ofc. one of my FAVORITE gods...Hera. oh, ho ho Hera. you do NOT deserve the hate you get <3 okay maybe a bit of irritation is warranted because you do pull off risky things in hoo but we stan a goddess who takes charge in this house.

YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME SHE'S GONNA BE - well, nicer? is that the right word? - BETTER WITH APOLLO POST-TOA. AFTER SEEING EVERYTHING HE SUFFERED? AFTER SEEING HIM SHED THE MASK? AFTER JASON GRACE?

*pounds mercilessly on the table* I WILL NEVER NOT BE ANNOYING ABOUT THEM I LOVE THEM ALL INCLUDING THE BITS OF CHARACTER FROM THE MINOR GODS WE GET TOO!!