#FRESH CONCRETE IN MY MOUTH

[moonlesslights]

Miguel O’hara in Love

Headcanons.

━━━━━━ ✿ 🕷️ ❀ ━━━━━

A/N: I was really looking forward to write this, because I just can’t get this whole idea out of my head.

Warnings: Basically none, a little bit of angst maybe?, some smut references and depictions. Miguel being Miguel. Kinda obsessive (?)

This text is based in that frase of Joe Goldberg: “There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you”. So be prepared.

Enjoy, my loves. Every comment or request is welcomed! 🤍

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miguel was curious of you from the very moment he met you. Such a unique presence among all the others.

You had been bitten just a month ago. And it was hard for you. He saw you struggle, falling over and over again, training till exhaustion, fighting to be on the level of the others.

And the worst part of it all, was the guilt coming to attack him with every side eye Jessica gave to him. “If you weren’t going to help her, you should have let her alone.” The woman had whispered while both of them looked at you fighting to climb another building. Miguel knew she was right. He was the one who insisted in bringing you immediately after they found you (only a couple of days after the bite), even when Jessica insisted to give you time for you to figure it out alone. Miguel wasn’t having it, and now… “She’s been at it for the whole morning.” The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head.

What Jessica didn’t quite know was that Miguel hadn’t left you alone all this time… He wasn’t good at talking, that was true. He wasn’t good at showing his support with words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

You let out a pained groan when you finally plop on the concrete of the building’s rooftop. Every single muscle of your body aches and you can fell your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage, making it feel like every breath that makes it to your lungs it’s just a mere miracle.

The weight of the presence of someone standing beside you forces you to blink out of your thoughts. Tiredly, you look up, finding Miguel's mask glaring back at you with a deep frown you can make out of the way his eyes curve.

He holds a white little package on his right and he hands it to you before finally sitting down without making a single sound. It had all started like a little game between the two of you: You pretend you don’t see his figure hovering above a building while you train, or his silhouette watching you getting back to The Society place safely. You also pretend you don’t know it’s him who leaves bandages and painkillers over your bed every day with a little chocolate next to it. And he pretends he doesn’t know that you know.

You cross your legs and smile when you open the small box on your hands, smelling the sweet scent of warm and fresh food. You also take notice of how he changed one of the things he brought you last time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you were sure now he definitely noticed you didn’t like it.

“Eat.” He orders and you are too tired to remark his tone of voice with a roll of your eyes. So you nod, bringing a big spoonful of pasta and vegetables to your mouth, thanking him with a big smile. Smile he doesn’t return. He never does anyway. But now it’s not like always. He’s pissed. “When was the last time you ate?”

You look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. You swallow, slowly, feeling his eyes burning on the side of your head.

“Mhm… Not long ago, no.” You answer, mumbling while you get more food into your mouth. Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Training this much without any nutriments won’t do anything good for you…”

“Training this much won’t do anything anyway.” You sigh, keeping then the fork between your lips. Miguel wishes to say something but he can’t find the words, he can’t order his thoughts inside his head to place them on his tongue and tell you just how much you have improved since the first day, so he gladly receives your bright eyes turning to him when you seem to remember: “But I finally climbed this building, see? Without using any web, only my spider fingers.”

The man nods at you waving playfully at him. The determination in your eyes even when your whole body wanted to give up, even when you know you’re still not close to go on a mission by yourself (or with anyone else), even when you probably couldn’t even sleep fine because of the sore bruises, the determination in your eyes didn’t flatter.

That made him feel something deep is his hands, a tingle he couldn’t control. And he hated it.

“Tomorrow at seven.” He sentences, standing on his feet again.

You frown, raising big eyes at him. The brightness in them when the weight of his words hit you destabilizes him.

“For real?”

“Yes.” He looks away. “If I don’t train you you’re not getting anywhere.”

His comment goes unnoticed for the excitement running all along your body.

“Ok.” You nod, trying to look professional but failing miserably.

He grunts in response, soon jumping off of the building and losing among all of the city chaos. In some minutes he would be back at the Society lobby. You… An hour. Give or take.

Training with Miguel was nothing but… Hell.

No, it actually wasn’t. You expected you could say that to make people thing you were having it hard, but he insisted on starting with the basics… basics that you already felt like being good at.

Still, climbing had become easier within the first week of training with him. The tips and advices he insisted you to follow helped you thinking of it more like a game than a must do.

Swinging was still a tricky one. You used to lose your balance when the demanded velocity was too much. Panic rushed over you, feeling like you would crash against a window or a fucking person, or another spider doing their own training.

“Trust your senses.” Miguel said to you every time you fell, and every time you death glared at him for that. He didn’t have one of the most important senses for spider people and he still managed to be better than anyone you could have known. You had them all, and they all seemed to be a mess when you tried to use them.

Soon enough, Miguel learned about a way to motivate you: Rewards. Most of the time was food, some others, the promise of letting you rest for more that five minutes was enough. For a week now, it had been a little bit different.

History. You loved it. And you changed any delicious and tasty food for hours listening to Miguel explaining everything about the multiverse and the tangled webs between all of you. He had told you about his first travels to other Earths at least three times, but you couldn’t seem to get tired.

You might not tell him how much his voice soothes you after a long day out, but it wasn’t necessary, he could see it. On the other hand, he definitely would never tell you how he glanced at you, completely asleep after another history session, memorizing every breath, every mole and freckle, counting every single one of your eyelashes like the stars on the sky above you.

No. You would never find out about that.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day: quiet, calm and premeditated. Nothing out of the routine you and Miguel had adopted for the past four weeks.

But with you, things were never that easy. Boredom was a dangerous thing for you, Miguel had learned it by now. The hard way. If something became not enough exciting for your restless self, you would look for that spark of adrenaline at any cost. It was part of your determination. Heart of a lion. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact he would have to save you from breaking a few bones every once in a while.

“I’m sorry” You would say after he dropped you on the safe floor again. He would turn to look at you, fire running up his veins. Every time he wanted to yell at you, to snap and tell you it was the last time you do something like that. And every time he would sigh, pressing both finger on the bridge of his nose, finally grunting in a low voice:

“Desobedeciste deliberadamente.” A month was enough for you to know exactly what those words meant.

“I know.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“I know…” Then the bright eyes. Always the bright eyes. “But I have to try, I can’t depend on you forever. Getting hurt it’s just part of the way.”

He hated you were right. He lost count of how many broken ribs he got on his first years, of how many scars he still hides under his suit. Eventually, you would have to learn to stand up even if you’re bleeding. Even if you’re dying.

He is not mad at you for disobeying, that’s bullshit. He admired that of you, actually. You don’t act by fear, you do not fear him. You follow your heart even when you know you could get in trouble for it. No, he’s mad because every time he catches you before you hit the ground, all he can think about is that there’s going to be a moment where he won’t be there to do it. And the sound of your body crashing against the concrete, of your pain, would follow him till the darkest moments of the night, where he curses the day you’ll scream his name and he will be too far away to hear it.

“I want to change my reward for today.” You smile at him, both of your hands behind your back, making him suspicious of your teasing voice.

“You’re not going anywhere with Hobie.” He responds in a neutral voice, starting to walk in front of you.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before getting in front of him and starting to walk backwards so you could keep facing him.

“It’s not that.” You insist. He doesn’t answer and you know that’s his way of telling you to go on. You sigh. “I want to see you without your mask.”

That makes him stop dead on his tracks. He tilts his head, questioning you with curious eyes. That’s all you wanted? No, you wanted that? Why?

Were you really that bored?

“I feel like everyone here has seen you at least one time, except for me. And it’s not fair.” You got a point on that. He spends most of his time training you, you share almost every meal together, he’s the last person you usually talk everyday because you’re too tired to do anything other than going to your room and sleep. You have spent entire days with him, you have cried and made a mess of yourself in front of his presence, and you didn’t even know his face.

You can deny the sting of irritation you get every time Hobie or Gwen, or any other come talking about what they said during the meeting before a mission, meetings where, you had learnt, Miguel used to take off his mask. Peter told you it wasn’t that big of a deal. You wanted to punch him.

“If that’s what you want.” Miguel crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “Now go tra-…”

You were gone before he could even finish his sentence. He sees your figure going around the building he chose for this particular session. Your swinging had gotten better over the last weeks and the confidence you had in yourself had also been improving, showing your true strength for him to see.

Jessica insisted on you being ready to train at the top levels with the others inside The Society training center, or at least to try. But Miguel profusely refused. He had designed many of the levels to train there, he knew the damage they could cause to someone not prepared to face them.

He blame it on his sense of responsibility over you the fact that he denied any attempt to put you on an unnecessary risk, but deep down, he knew that from the moment he stepped in front of you while you cried for that death he knew all too well now, and then observed how you wiped your tears and showed him your fists, ready to fight him despite everything… He was fucked.

You were the little thing he decided to protect even if it costed his life. The little thing that trusted his claws to hold at her, that puts its life on the line without a second thought. It is not his fault to have never experienced anything like this, to don’t know what to do, to act like a fool, to refuse to lose it… How they cannot understand?

“Done.” You jump in front of him, getting him out of his thoughts.

He looks up, seeing all of the targets on the building covered by a good layer of web. Your precision could be better, but you’re getting at it.

He sighs. He turns to face you completely before ordering his nanotechnology to uncover his face. Dark wavy hair falls onto his temples, brown skin glimmers under the heavy sun above you, full lips press against each other and two cold brown eyes glare down at you.

When you don’t say anything, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”

You nod without waiting for another question.

“I just wanted to see your eyes.” You answer confident, smiling softly at him.

It is enough to say he never wore his mask on around you ever again.

Miguel O'Hara isn’t good in what emotion management respects.

He knows it, but he doesn’t have the time or care to try to do something about it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal…

Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal until one specially busy morning where he couldn’t make it to your first training, he went on looking for you… And he couldn’t find you.

He went to your room, your favorite places; he went looking all around the city, praying to find you just jumping above some buildings. But you were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t until one Peter took mercy on him that pointed the worst place to be pointed: The training center.

With his heart going a thousand miles per hour, he started to look for you inside the complex. And when he caught a glimpse of Jessica looking up with a proud smile, he knew exactly where you were.

“She’s doing even better than I could’ve imagined. You’re a great mentor, Miguel.”

“Why is she here?” He answered immediately. Jess raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the uneasiness on his voice.

“Does that really matter? Look at her, Miguel!” She pointed at you with her extended hand. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

Of course he was. But what he couldn’t stand was someone else messing and taking choices over the one and only thing he has. So instead of answering her question, he sentenced: “Don’t ever get close to her again.”

“Miguel…”

“You can mess around with any other, but there is a fucking line, Jess. You chose yours, and I respect them. Don’t mess with mine.”

When he finally appeared in front of you, you smiled brightly at him. He looked like any other day, completely unfazed and with a calmed expression you were so used to see by now.

“Time to call it a day, don’t you think?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You were sweating, you arms were trembling and you could barely control your breath by now, and still… You shook your head.

“I want to try this level one last time.” He was ready to talk you out of it but your pleading eyes made him look down at Jess, who, with a single movement, made him understand what she was talking about.

“Fine, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, got it?” His frustration made you giggle when you nodded.

You didn’t make it till the end of the level, but you tried, and that was all that mattered to you. To Miguel, having been able to take you to the wall before you crashed against a crystal under you was the main thing that mattered.

It had been a whole experience, but it remained like that. Enough time at least for him to push his way of react behind him. Until something made it snap again.

His eyes fly to all of the cameras in front of him, fixing his pupils in whatever screen he could catch a glimpse of your suit.

The threat they were expecting for your first mission ended up being a lot more aggressive and capable than hoped. You and your partner had already received a few good hits by the time Miguel reached for the Call button.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you hear when you press ‘answer’.

“Never better.” You reply, smiling at the interface of your pretty boss clenching his jaw.

“Need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Not at all, we’re managing just fine.” Your figure distorts while you swing around. Heavy steps following you up close. “I gotta go, Miguel. See you back at home.”

“No, wai-…” He widens his eyes, trying to reach you before you end the call. His fists tighten and his eyes close, fighting to keep himself calm.

But our man can’t catch a break, because as soon as his breath starts to get back to its normal speed, a camera showing on one of the screens burst out with a big clatter, forcing his eyes open only to see his worst fear take form in front of him.

You were struggling against the anomaly, kicking your feet in the air and trying desperately to get his hands off your neck. Your partner was nowhere to be seen. You appear to lose you patience when you stop fighting and instead shoot webs to the creature’s eyes. The anomaly maddens, and throws you against the next building on the street.

Miguel's eyes follow your body across two cameras, watching in horror the blood dripping from your mouth when you cough after the blow, struggling to get on your feet again.

His hands move quicker than he can process, bringing all the information about the Earth you were on for him to see.

“Miguel.” Jessica calls from behind.

“Where the hell did you send her?” He whispers, reading the screen displayed. “I told you she wasn’t ready to go.”

“Miguel, look.” She insists, this time with a more demanding voice.

But the man can’t think of anything else more than you bleeding. Alone and injured.

“You said it was an easy one.” He growls in a low and dangerous voice.

“I’m…”

“I told you she wasn’t ready!” He snaps, looking back at her. His fangs pinch on his lower lip, so hard he can feel a drop of scarlet liquid running down his chin.

And it’s not until Jess takes a step back and Lyla calls his name that he realizes the way his claws had ripped the metal in front of him.

And then… A call.

He blinks out of his trance, looking up at the screen with your name on it. He hits ‘answer’ and your dirty suit and scratched face make an appearance.

His red eyes relax at the sight, returning to those soft brown irises and dark pleased pupils reserved only for you. He hides his fangs and his claws are no longer nowhere to see. Just you. It was just you again. And you were okay.

“Miguel, look!” You smile at him, pointing the camera on your watch for him to see your partner finishing to tie up the anomaly. “We got it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.” He can’t help but let out a small glimpse of a smile over his lips, nodding at your excitement.

“Oh, you’re smiling. Wait for me to come back, I wanna see it in person.” And just like that, his smile is gone.

“Don’t take any longer. Both of you, come back as soon as possible.”

And with that, the call is ended once again, leaving him in a room with heavy air and thick silence. He jumps off of the platform, still glaring at Jessica in silence.

“You know that wasn’t right.” She whispers. “The way you’re acting it isn’t right, Miguel.”

He shakes his head, slowing his movements until he remains still just a few feet away from the entrance.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He murmurs.

“Oh, now I don’t know?!” She opens her mouth with indignation, but Miguel doesn’t alter.

“It’s not like that and you know it.” He hisses. “I have lost everything in this world. I am utterly alone. And even between us, there a strings that doesn’t tangle. You have a husband and a soon to come baby, a family that awaits for you at home, but what do I have, Jess?”

The woman, for the first time, remains silent.

“I have her. I only have her.” He says. “Not a single thing in this world belongs to me but her. Everything else have been taken away from me, everything I once had has disappeared: my job, my life, my normal life. If she’s ripped from my hands, I have nothing left. And I cannot keep fighting for a life I don’t want to live. This is not only for her, Jess. If I lose her, I will tear the universe apart with my own hands.”

A single shiver ran down her spine, watching Miguel exiting the complex to find you arriving almost at the same moment.

She watched how his threat takes meaning when you wrap your arms around him and his eyes brighten at the sound of your laugh.

She knows that if they ever were to lose that light, the whole multiverse would dim with them.

Miguel wanted to own you.

He wasn’t good at hiding it.

His hands would come to your hips, grabbing your tights or caressing your waist under your clothes.

Your scent would drive him into his animalistic side at every given moment. Until the point he would have to step meters away from you during the meetings in order to keep himself from the smell of your hair and your soft skin.

But when he didn’t keep himself from you, he would come from behind you, embracing you with his whole body. His face would bury in the curve of your neck, sending shivers with his tongue coming out, tracing a single line till reaching your ear, where he would whisper what he wants, where he would ask you to let him touch you.

When you say yes, he would drop his head and sink your fingers on your tender skin, pressing his hips against your body when you throw your head back, allowing him to do as he wished so with you, to mark you as his as many times as he wanted.

“Miguel…” You sigh this time, feeling his hands clinging at your suit, desperate to touch your skin instead.

He had just returned from a mission that had kept him away from you three days. You had imagined he would’ve returned tired and ready to sleep for fifteen hours, but instead he took you straight into his bedroom and pushed you against the wall, where he now holds you still with both of his arms.

“Take it off.” He whispers, tugging again at your suit. He was being nice this time, and you thank him internally for that. You don’t have the strength to ask Lyla for another suit.

You complain with a happy humming, letting your body fully exposed before him except for your panties still covering your ass and pussy.

The man switches off his own suit, letting you see up close the tent under his boxers. His fingers grasp at your thighs, forcing your legs open for him. Two of his digits run along your folds over your panties for around ten seconds before he decides to tore away your undergarment and place his hand back at your sex.

You would have complained about his behavior but his fingers pressing down on your clit rip only a moan out of your throat. He plays with your sensitive bundle until you’re wet and seconds away from an orgasm he pretends to steal away when he stops his movements.

“No, please…” You cry out, your legs threatening to give up.

“Shhh, patience, mi amor, I’m not done yet.” With one hand he pushes you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his neck for support before he starts eating you out like a starved man.

You tighten your tights around his head, almost screaming at your over sensitive pussy being stimulated even more, with his tongue pushing in and out for a while until he takes it to your clit again, sucking in, ripping another hard cry out of you. You are so close. And when he finally joins in two of his fingers to curve inside of you, it’s your end.

You scream his name, clenching around his digits, making him growl enough to feel the vibration running down your skin. He guides you through all of it until you finally seem to catch your breath again.

But then, he takes out his fingers and drops his boxes to the floor. His dick throbbed painfully, making him hiss when he stroke it a few times before pressing against you, chest to chest, and bottoming out all the way with a single thrust.

“Fuck, Miguel!” You throw your head back as he does the contrary, sinking his fangs into your skin, trying not to lose control.

“May I move?” He asks, breathing heavily on your skin.

You nod.

“Yes, yes, please move.” He groan in pleasure at your words, starting to move your hips in and down to match the rhythm of his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning sweetly against his ear while he pick up the pace. Soon enough, only the sound of skin slapping on skin could be heard around you, with nothing but your moans and gasps indicating him where he had to thrust, and his deep growls showing you how close he was.

“Cum for me.” He says, pushing your back back to the wall with his hand around your neck, squeezing you under his fingers. “I wanna see you cum.” He demands, making of his pace nothing but a mess of thrusts.

He was so close, he just needed…

“Miguel!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out desperate whimpers when your legs tremble around him and your walls clench around his cock, sending him so high he has to bite you again to avoid a throaty moan escape from him.

You could barely begin to feel your toes again when you feel him tightening his grip around you before walking out to the bed.

He was ready for the next round.

…

Thank you so much for coming all this way!

PD: I know Miguel fangs have paralyzing venom but let’s just pretend he can choose when to use it and when don’t.

This might not be good but I had the idea of this thread of story and I just wanted to write it.

I hope you have at least enjoyed some of it.

Love y’all. Sending a lot of love. See ya. <3

PD2: I’m trying to work now on a Sub!Miguel thing. It may be still a couple of days from it, but I want to be good. And I haven’t decided if it would be just porn or porn with plot. So let me know!

PD3: I’ll be doing cleaning and correction between today and tomorrow.

#miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut

[sideblogofhell]

a forbidden fruit

summary: pietro eats something he shouldn't have pairing: pietro maximoff x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowjobs, unprotected sex a/n: part iv have fun do leave comments if u liked it

masterlist | the repentant's corner

Pietro dashed around the lot sixteen times to make sure no one was there. You rubbed your hands together for some heat against the chilling night. The grass crackled beneath your feet trying to chase after your partner. You ended up a panting mess next to him, your knees shaking. 

“So I was thinking, after this patrol maybe we could go out sometime?” he said, his breath unwavering. You gulped and tried to let out a word, your voice dry and coarse. You nod, sweat dripping down your forehead. 

“Can you focus?” you said, trying to open the door. He broke open the warehouse padlock with ease, vibrating at a pace that dislodged the gears that kept the lock secure. 

You slide the rusty door open into a dark room. Pietro used a flashlight to look into the path. The warehouse was small, almost the size of a barn, the floor a flat grey concrete, the walls tall and rusted. There were a few broken wooden crates scattered all over the floor, a metal table on the farthest left. 

Your partner zoomed into the room like a faint blue flare. He checked to see the contents of the crates, all seemed empty.  He sat on the metal table, a few newspapers sprawled out and a white dish used as a makeshift ashtray. 

“Look at this,” he pulled out a small ziplock bag filled with different sugar-coated candy like Skittles. He takes one out and puts it in his mouth, licking the sugar off his fingers. You took the bag from him, smelling the contents; sweet and fresh. “Want one?”

“You idiot! I don’t think this is candy,” you took the bag inside your pocket, Pietro smirking. “We have to send this to the lab.”

“It’s fine, fast metabolism remember?” he shrugged. 

The plane ride back to the compound was quiet. Pietro sat away from you and kept to himself, which was very unusual. He would always try to bother you while you flew the quinjet, always teasing and messing around, but right now he was slumped over to the side using his phone. 

You arrived at the compound a few hours later, the airdock marshalls taking over the jet. You asked other agents to rush to Dr. Cho’s lab to send the candy samples. “Pietro and I found this on patrol tonight,” you gave the pack to her assistants before they went on to test the samples. 

Your phone dinged to a message from Pietro. Meet me in the conference room at 4B ASAP. 

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he said. “My dick has been so hard for the past five hours and I can’t make it go away!”

“Your what?” you looked at the tent in between his legs, his knuckles were pale white as he gripped onto his pants. “Well I knew it was a drug but I didn’t know it was that kind!”

“What are we gonna do?” he said, his silver-gray hair all tousled over his forehead. He zoomed around and around the room, a cobalt blur blew gusts of wind everywhere he went. He stopped in a corner, his legs shaking and his face flushed. 

“We?” you clamored. “How the fuck am I supposed to help?”

“I don’t know you’re smarter than me!” his eyes widened, his voice shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead. He braced for another run but you held onto his arm. He shuddered, his skin was hot. 

“We should tell Dr. Cho,” you said. “Get you medicine or something.” 

“Absolutely not,” he pleaded. “It’s embarrassing,” his eyes wandered all over the room as if the answers were written on the walls. “We should deal with this the way it's intended.”

“Yeah, no,” you said before turning for the door. Pietro suddenly was in front of you blocking your exit. 

“Please draga—“ his lips were dead set. Pietro was an ill-tempered man, his demeanor was quick like his abilities, charismatic but also stubborn. You thought for a second, you’re helping a co-worker that’s all right?

“Well, how do we do it?” you said. He removed his jacket, and his blue shirt underneath. You marveled at his taut chest, the ridged cuts across his abdomen, and the two lines pointing down his sex. You tried to look away, but you couldn’t believe someone could look like that, like a Greek sculpture. 

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his stubble pricking at your cheeks. Your hands find his chest for stability, snaking around his neck to pull him closer. His large arms circle around your waist, finding the hem of your pants and going through to your ass. 

He spun you around and pinned your hands above your head, using his other hand to pull your pants down. He smoothed his palms on the plump mounds before giving it a spank, leaving it a red blush. He practically rips his pants open, his thick cock hard and leaking. He spits on his free hand, using it to prepare you. 

“I’m gonna go in okay?” he said in a whimpering tone. You nod, your cheeks warm. He spits again to lube his cock before feeling the pressure on your hole. It was sharp for a bit, the pressure easing as he flushed himself in, the base of his cock hitting your ass. He stops for a second, relishing the heat from your body. “So tight—”

You grunted when he pulled out, only to thrust back in. He began to fuck you at a languid pace, the sensation soothing the tingly feeling Pietro got from the drug. He tried to go slower, to make sure you won’t get hurt but he couldn’t. As you tried to move your hips at the same beat of his body he started to—vibrate. 

You let out a gasp, you thought of the toy you had at home, the one you use thinking about him, but the speed and intensity could not rival him. Pietro let out a series of cusses in Sokovian, it sounded like he was pleading to a god. Your knees turned wobbly from his thrusts, his body vibrating at a pace that made your eyes roll back, your own sex hard and leaking in your trousers. 

“Pietro—fuck,” you moaned.

“I can’t control it, you’re too warm,” his words shaking. “And good,” He let go of your hands, shifting to your waist, he gripped so hard you knew it would bruise. He moved quicker, like a piledriver into you, it stung but the pleasure of hitting your prostate compensated. 

When gripping onto your waist wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around your body hugging you, and began to thrust into you harder, his silver hair plastered on his forehead wet. Your body tried to keep you up but your legs betrayed you. You fell down, his cock pulling out. “I can’t stand.”

He pulls you to the table nearby, propping you with your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself back into your hole driving back into his thrusts. The vibrating began again, shaking the table as he gripped it on its edge. You let out desperate cries, he tried to soothe you by kissing your lips, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “I’m close—” he cried out.

You nodded, the constant stimulation to your prostate was going to make you cum untouched. His thrusts became erratic, still a vibrating mess. Pietro stood up and you marveled at the glistening sight, his abdomen contracting and relaxing on each thrust, his head pulled back and his lids closed. 

And then the climax hit, cum shooting inside you in thick, your own release spewing on your belly. The vibration slows, Pietro a panting mess for once, a side of him you’ve never seen. He places a peck on your lips and mouths praises. 

“So about that date?”

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader smut #pietro maximoff x male reader #pietro maximoff x male reader smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #mcu smut #male reader #male reader smut

[deathbecomesthem]

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader blurb

For @bewilderedbunny, my love. I've been thinking of him and you.

You’re still rubbing the sleep out of the corner of your eyes when you pull into the parking lot that is only illuminated by the light that sits above the large metal back door of the diner.  The van is already in its spot. You smile at the sight, relieved that this is not a morning that will require multiple wake up calls to his trailer. The scent of frying bacon hits your nose before your foot is even planted on the linoleum floor. It’s not half as sweet as the sound of his low and quiet voice humming a tune just inside the swinging door of the kitchen. You can see him through the porthole window, hair pulled back into a bun to keep his curls from hanging over the grill, a fresh towel over his left shoulder. 

You turn the corner and decide to enter through the dining room, hitting the coffee station on your way. You’re filling the brew basket with coffee grounds while your bag is still hanging on your shoulder. You flip the light switches along the wall and squint under the harsh fluorescents. You turn the corner to the kitchen to hang up your coat and bag. You can feel his eyes. You don’t look at him, you focus on making sure your jacket is hanging just right. You angle your hip in a way that would draw his attention, and feel your skin burn when you realize what you’re doing.

You clear your throat and turn to face the kitchen. Eddie’s smiling at you while he scrapes bacon up with a spatula. He mouths, “good morning” before turning around to grab a pack of hashbrowns from the freezer to cook off next. You take the opportunity to study the ink on the back of his neck. You’ve wondered about the symbol that sits between his shoulder blades and dips under his shirt. Alone in your bed at night, you think about looking at the full piece - for now it’s a mystery. 

And then you’re moving through the dining room, pulling down chairs and arranging sugar packers while Eddie moves around the kitchen prepping the line for the upcoming day. You can both do this dance in your respective dreams, hands move on their own until you’re both ready for the day at the same moment. You meet at the coffee station, mugs at the ready. You fill his cup before you pour your own cup, and he hands you your jacket. You both head back through the kitchen and into the early morning darkness.

The sun is only just beginning to peek out from under the trees that line up against the back of the parking lot. In synchronized movements, you both take your seat on the edge of the walkway and put cigarettes to lips. You inhale a drag as does Eddie. You both take a long drink of coffee. It’s a ritual you both have down pat. No words are to be spoken before that first drink of coffee - but now the day can begin. You will sit on that cold and hard concrete while getting your necessary ration of nicotine and caffeine, close enough to Eddie to smell his shampoo. And you’ll get to hear the first words he’s spoken since waking, his voice still hoarse and sleepy. Intimate in an unexplainable way.

“What do you think, hm? French toast or pancakes this morning?”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #linecook!eddie munson

[thisfanisgonesorry]

how about some quick fuck with hobie after the show? she gives him a nice bj in a quiet alley and he fingers her in the car otw home…

ty for the ask <3 i wrote most if the same day you sent it and then started dying, hopefully its good! got a lil lazy at the end because i have no object permanence but i tried my best :) 

tags: smut, estab, blowjob/fingering duh, love the carfucking trope, public sex/voyeurism, almost caught oooo

🕷

We slid out the backdoor of the venue, and Hobie let out a long sigh. The tension quickly dissipated as he felt the fresh air on his face. “Fin’lly.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Long night.” He spoke, slumping against the concrete wall. “C’mere, love.” He opened his arms in a loose hug, gesturing for me to hug him back before he forcibly pulled me into it due to taking too long.

He pressed kisses into my neck the second that it was in kissing distance. His hands slowly, and taking their sweet time too, fell from around my shoulders to land around my waist, keeping me in place as he pressed his body wholly against me.

“Lovely girl.” He mumbled. 

“I can feel you.” I smiled, whispering in his ear.

“Sorry.” He lied. “Y’re just so good.” That part had been truthful; his kisses found their way up my neck and onto my cheek before he kissed me sweetly on the mouth. “So good to me.”

There was an abrupt screaming heard from the main drag as the rest of the band left through the front door. Signing autographs, taking photos. The commotion was audible, and there was a moment of guilt for anyone trying to actually sleep in this city.

He turned his head to the sound, his eyebrows knitting slightly.

I slid out of his grip and kneeled on the dirty pavement, feeling the scraping against my skin. He turned his head quickly to meet my gaze, sucking in a sharp inhale as he held his hands awkwardly to his sides, not sure what else to do.

“Oh.. Fuck.” He breathed. “That.. ‘s good.”

“Mhm, you look real tense.” I answered back, rubbing my hands up his thighs. His hands awkwardly found their way to his crotch, being a gentleman, he unbuckles, unbuttons and unzips his pants and pulls himself out. 

“Y’so good t’me. Y’know exactly what I need.” His breathing was quick, and he continued to look towards the screaming.

“No one knows we’re here.” I spoke, spitting in my hand and kissing his hip. I gingerly stroked his length, feeling his muscles tense at the touch.

“I know..”

I pressed a chaste kiss on the side of the base, watching all the air leave his lungs in anticipation. I continued slowly stroking him before licking a straight line up the backside of the whole length, then taking the tip in my mouth.

“Shit.” He hissed. “Love it when y’do that.”

I swirled my tongue on the underside of him, and his hand reached for the back of my head, not pushing; just holding. His eyes stayed glued on mine as I hollowed my cheeks and slowly took more in my mouth.

“That’s it, baby, shit, take it.”

The slow movement down was driving him crazy until eventually my nose pressed against his stomach, his mouth fell open and I held the position, feeling him twitch at the very back of my throat. I kept him there for a moment, and he was trying his best to not thrust into me.

“Y’look so fuckin’ hot on y’r knees in that cute li’l skirt. Could cum from jus’ seein’ my dirty girl like this.” He panted. “Can’t believe y’re suckin’ me off in an alleyway.”

I pulled off for air, kissing the side of his base again. “Can’t believe you’re lettin’ me.” I moved back, but this time I began to bob my head at a gracious pace, he grabbed a handful of hair but wasn’t tugging harshly. 

I placed my hand on his, telling him it was okay, and he took that and ran with it, grabbing more hair and moving me back and forth on him, fucking my face but still being gentle enough to not make me deepthroat him.

His volume increased and he was cautious of the crowd of people just around the corner. There was only so long that he could last like this.

“Someone could catch us—” He started, choking out a groan and his dick twitching at his own ideas. “Fuck, the look on their face.. Seein’ m’cock down y’r throat.”

I pushed on his thighs, and he took the hint quickly, letting go of his movements and instead quickly started moving both of his hands to hold my hair in a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of my way.

“Y’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.” He commented, I moaned around him at his words and a low growl was his response. “Love the way y’r eyes look up at me. Love the way y’look on my prick, shit, y’re way too good f’me.”

His words were admittedly egging me on, making it so I started going faster and taking more of him. He groaned in response, his grip on my hair tightening as I wrapped my hands around him again, stroking what I couldn’t reach, my other hand wrapped from his thigh to the back of his leg, trying to ground myself.

“Baby, ‘m gonna cum.” He moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, careful enough to not slam it right against the concrete wall.

I hummed around him, expressing delight that he was there so quickly. His breathing got heavy and he weakly thrust into the blowjob, ruining the rhythm but it was getting him off.

“Y/n—” He whined, his gaze falling back down to me and he pulled me off of him, quickly wrapping his hand around mine.

I poked my tongue out, keeping my mouth open as his hand guided mine to stroke him to completion. Quick, long strokes that made him swallow thickly, trying to contain his noises so the crowd didn’t know we were here. 

“Hobie.” I breathed, letting him feel my hot breath on his aching skin.

I moved my head up slightly, pressing my tongue flat against the bottom of his tip, he let out a loud curse, followed by a mess of groans and moans as he came on the wet softness of my tongue.

He panted, begging for air as he watched it pool on my tongue. I held it on display for him as he quickly tucked himself away, making quick glances to the crowd’s noises. His eyes silently begged for me to swallow him, going wide in anticipation. 

I dramatically swallowed his spend, letting him hear the gulp sound.

“I don’t deserve you.” He said matter-of-factly, pulling me to my feet. “I gotta get you home..” He trailed off, speaking to himself as he quickly walked us to the car. 🕷 Halfway through the drive home, his hand on my thigh started exploring more, gradually going higher.

“Bet y’re so wet.” He groaned in admittance to his thoughts, letting his fingers brush against my panties and confirming his suspicions. “That from blowin’ me?” He tried to joke, but it didn’t land when all the air left his lungs and it came across like a desperate plea for validation.

“Course it is.” I responded back, biting my lip and trying not to squirm at his invasive touch as he groped what he could.

He let out a shaky exhale as he slid his hands through the waistband of the panties, his eyes kept flicking to me, glancing briefly before focusing on the road. In the middle of the city, this would not be the place to lose attention.

He ran his index and middle finger up and down the wetness briefly before pushing them in, inwardly cursing at himself when he felt the wetness swallow him.

“Such a perfect pussy.” He praised. “Love fuckin’ this pussy, love how it clenches around me, jus’ like that.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and looked out the window, squirming under his touch and biting back any sounds that threatened to leave my mouth.

“Babyy..” He cooed.

“What?” I hesitantly responded, turning to him.

“Make them pretty noises f’me.”

“Hobie, we’re.. Mhm.. Focus on the road.” I answered, stifling moans. He spoke sweetly and adoringly, as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of me.

“‘M gonna fuck y’brains out.” He said bluntly despite how loving it sounded. “Bet y’re gonna make a mess all over m’carseat, yeah?” He commented, fingering at a steady pace.

I tried to close my legs around his hand but it was useless, I turned away from him again, hiding my flushed face. “Hobie..” I whined, grabbing his hand. “An alleyway is one thing, but in the car is another.”

“What? Scared some fans might come up to the window?” He teased, struggling to keep his eyes on the road. The city was packed full of fans, walking around post-show, and every now and then, he’d be recognised through the car window.

I helplessly tried to grind against his hand, chasing the orgasm, however he halted the moments, using his elbow to push me into the seat and stop moving around.

“Relax. I’ll be good to you.”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna let y’self go?” He spoke sweetly, continuing his actions.

There was a moment of silence where all that filled the air was desperate pants as he did what he wanted. He carefully drove through the streets as if nothing was happening, completely as oblivious as the outside world.

I grabbed at his hands, lifting my hips for a better angle and glancing out the window. “So many people are staring at us.”

“They ain’t got a clue, love.” He responded with a cocky tone. “Y’re fuckin’ y’self on my hands, but y’still worried about someone catching you?”

“Shut up..” I mumbled, still looking out the window to avoid his gaze as I tried to ride his fingers in the small amount of room I had to move.

“Speak up.” He spoke, doubling his efforts. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

I finally turned to him, resting against the headrest, he was trying to keep eye contact while also driving safely. “The road.” I spoke through stifled moans.

“Y’really gonna take away the best part of this f’me?” He joked, keeping his attention on the road. “I gotta see y’cum or gotta hear it. Which one, darlin’?”

“Fuck, Hobie.” I finally moaned out after denying it to myself (and him); “You’re so annoying.” I laughed softly, though the laugh ended quickly as another moan escaped my lips.

“Can’t take y’seriously right now.” He joked back.

“Eyes forward.”

“Look at you, takin’ my fingers so damn well.” He praised, keeping his elbow pressed against my stomach, limiting my squirming. He wanted complete control over how I’d take him. He kept his eyes glued to the road, letting his mind wander as my sounds filled his ears.

“God, how are your hands that fucking good?”

“They were made for you.” He purred, an intoxicating sweetness to his words as he toyed with me. “Also, playing guitar helps.”

“Close.” I moaned. “Hate those stupid hands.”

“Can feel it. Can feel how much y’love ‘em.”

He paused, the car stopping at the redlight. “Hobes, please.” I whined, careful of bypassers, knowing that anyone could recognise us.

“Y’right there, darlin’, go on, baby.” He beckoned sweetly, I clenched around him and a low growl dragged from his throat. “Calm down a li’l, thought y’didn’t want anyone to see?”

He watched intently, his mouth falling agape, wanting to take in every detail on how I unwound with him fucking me in his carseat. It was a sight that he’d print onto the back of his eyelids. 

“Shit, right there—” I cried out, feeling it hit me fast and hard. I writhed against his hands in the car seat, praying that I wasn’t making a mess like he predicted. I rode it out as best I could, grinding helplessly.

“That’s it.. Always so pretty f’me.”

He pulled his fingers out, sticking them between his lips and tasting the sweetness as I covered myself, pulling my skirt down to be decent. 

“Y’taste so damn good.”

“That was..” I hummed, he leant over the console, pressing a kiss on my lips and placing his hand back on my thigh.

“I know.” He smiled, his eyes glancing to the window.

There was a knock on the window and he smiled at them. My eyes went wide and my cheeks flushed. “Oh my god.” I mumbled.

He rolled the window down in the console, leaning over me to talk to the fan. The light stayed red with a long line of traffic ahead of us. I covered my face with my hand, resting my elbow on the car door, watching them interact.

They talked for a small moment and I felt the embarrassment rise in my chest. “Hobie, the lights green.” I mumbled, nudging him.

“Of course.” He smiled sweetly, waving goodbye to the fan and pulling away. The interaction ended shortly, and he nudged me as he leant back in his seat. “Y’re so red.” He laughed.

“How aren’t you mortified?”

“I don’t have stage fright.” He winked.

#marvel #hobie brown #smut #spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader one shot #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobart brown #hobie x reader #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #atsv hobie #hobie brown fluff #spiderpunk x you #hobie brown fanfic

[belokhvostikova]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | What was supposed to be a summer vacation to your boyfriend's hometown, turned into God's greatest test of morality against you. In other words, you basically fuck your boyfriend's best friend, Eddie Munson.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mention of alcohol, drug use, jealousy, possessiveness, small violence, a threat of murder (little yandere, but not really-ish, I don't know, to be honest), slightly dark (I think, right? Maybe?) cheating, and explicit sexual content: fondling, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, degradation/praise kink, finger sucking, nipple play, face slapping, pussy slapping, masturbation (male, but of female), fingering, handjob, cum eating, squirting, and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I... don't know what this is. Just take, goddamn it, there, take me for all I'm worth! Do I condone cheating? No. But did this idea make me really horny? Yes. And he's a little mean, so be warned.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Sometimes… you wished he’d never spoken those words. 

When two weeks into his summer vacation in Hawkins, Indiana was enough time spent away from the debilitating semesters of university to have his newfound room—proffered by the closest of a distant family member, because two months with the folks would just be too much—smelling of the fresh cologne of clean air and washed linen; the smell that warmed you with the loving memories of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers. 

When his navy blue comforter wrinkled under the weight of tussling bodies, because in those mere two weeks—his half in Hawkins, yours in Indianapolis—both hearts ached for the touch of one another, and he refused to deprive himself from the physical contact of his love, you. Crushing kisses, trailing hands, and connecting bodies to commemorate the rising sun, because a town miles away from the bustling city of beeping traffic and screaming pedestrians left room for the morning songs of the Northern Cardinal.

When the exhaustion of a two hour journey through cornfields and even smaller towns guided you to the place where he relished you in the memories of his boyhood; swing sets on the playground, the arcade after homework, Tuesday performances at the Hideout. Such memories came to life for you when the aluminum stock sign welcomed you into Hawkins. Sore from stiffness, your limbs crashed into the embrace of your lover, where your first night in the cursed town consisted of fucking the Friday night darkness away, until bodies glowed under the welcoming sun of the Saturday morning, where dewy grass freshened the air in contrast to the concrete slabs of cracked busy sidewalks you grew up on. 

But then… he spoke those words. 

When a stroking thumb against the hairs of your brow elicited the tired whine from your mouth, as you nuzzled your face into his naked chest to shield you from the burning sunshine pouring from the basement window. Your eyes woke to his dozy lips, chapped with pinched corners to show off the crookedness of his teeth that brought such beautiful character to his soul. Puffs of morning breath warmed your somnolent face with his morning greeting.

“I know I’ve told you this like a million times,” he croaked, “but I really am so happy that you’re here. With me.” His heavy hand landed on the apple of cheek to encourage your growing smile. “Can’t wait to show you around, can’t wait for you to meet my friends- the guys.”

Now, a new cologne of ashy darkwood and burning spices tarnished the content bubble of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers with groping handfuls and filthy intimacy. An anxious pit of guilty dread now eats you alive when the musk of his igniting cigarettes invades your being, but how can you think of such worrisome, when it’s the same scent that has your face torching with flames of desire and heart fluttering with anticipation for a new love- a different kind of love?

Other times… you are happy that he spoke those words. 

Because it led you to Eddie Munson.

-

Her diamond scintillated, shoved in your face by her persistent eagerness to show off the glowing ring that beamed under strobe lights of greens and reds that twirled from the tiny disco ball. Eric Marcher, who couldn’t give you anything more than a nod of acknowledgement when introduced—despite his intimate hand clasp and hug combo with your boyfriend, had been detailed to you as the man needed when small town goers were itching for party favors. Now, in the cul-de-sac of Mirkwood, a lively get-together of strangers, like Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels, bombarded you with the overwhelming hospitality of detailing their personal life to the woman who snagged Braun Peterson. 

A large smile matched that of her ring, beaming with a boastfulness of pride for fulfilling that suburban wife “dream” role, but you couldn’t blame her. A fat rock rested upon her finger to symbolize her everlasting love with her partner? Hell, you’d shove it in other people’s faces, as well. “It belonged to Nana Leslie before Oliver got it with her blessing. See, my daddy was never able to give it to my momma, because well, Nana never liked her,” you met her seven minutes ago, “but, anyways, it’s been in the family for two generations, and now it’s mine!” 

“Oh, wow.” You liked her and her family drama. Your hands maneuvered to twist her finger, watching how beautifully the jewelry captured the light. 

“I mean, it was kinda rash, ya’know, with the war and whatnot.” Her Midwestern accent sang. “Oliver wanted to tie the knot before his deployment, but I was not about to do it in City Hall. Though, he did promise me a big wedding when he comes back from Iraq.” She longingly sighed, as you nodded along. “Ya’know, something that doesn’t involve a smelly courthouse. “What about you?”

You chuckled. “What about me?”

“Have you and Braun discussed when you’d be getting married?” 

You nearly choked on your drink despite not even having one. “Oh.” Quite the response to offer. “We’re, um, not exactly there yet. I mean, we haven’t even been dating for a year.” You awkwardly laughed.

“Well, you don’t wanna wait too long!” Cheryl huffed out an airy laugh. “It’s like, when ya’know you know, ya’know?” Her attempt to philosophize the concept of love left your head nodding along to move the conversation, but Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels surely had to knack to keep talking. “And don’t you know?”

Do you know? “Um-”

“Would you quit harassing my girlfriend?” A familiar hand squeezed your shoulder, before the presence of Braun Peterson came from behind the couch, where he bent down to smile at you. 

“I am not harassing your girlfriend.” Cheryl scoffed. “And come on, I’ve been your best friend since we were babies! I know you! And I know you always talked about getting married!” She sternly punctuated. “I mean, it’s literally what made you cuter than the rest of the boys on the playground.”

Braun derided. “Okay, first of all, we were never best friends, I just had to endure being in the same grade as you.” You both chuckled, as Cheryl dramatically gasped. “And secondly, in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m not a seven-year-old that’s desperate to propose to any girl who was willing to push me on the swingset.”

“Oh!” You piqued his interest. “I happen to be a great companion on the swingset, I’d love to join you.” You sweetly beamed, an endearing feature that had him devastatingly blushing with love.

“Yeah?” He whispered in your face, where you met his question with a nod, reeling him in for a kiss. 

“Ugh, see!” Cheryl’s voice had you separating with a hot face. “Marriage material! At least a proposal by the first year mark.” Her brows teased, forcing him to laugh in disbelief. 

But Braun Peterson smiled, nonetheless, and your throat had constricted. While the idea of marrying your first serious boyfriend wasn’t the most unsettling notion, the reality of it coming faster than anticipated from the opinions of those closest to him, who unfortunately were raised in the small town mindset of a white picket fence before the age of twenty-five, had your tummy swirling with queasiness. Freshly out of university, the last thing you needed was a ring waying you down by a man whose loud chewing you were still trying to adjust to. A proposal in two months was not in schedule. 

Because dinner was on Saturday. Meeting the parents was next Wednesday. Niece’s birthday party in two weeks. At least three years of dating before moving in. The fourth year, an engagement. The fifth, a wedding. Children? Somewhere long after. 

Strict? Maybe. But perfect in your mind of precision? Absolutely.

“Um, could you get me something to drink?” You interrupted the possibility of any more talks of the future. “I just have to, uh, run to the bathroom real quick.”

His hand rubbed down your back so perfectly, calming the nerves that festered in your stomach. “Absolutely.” He assured you, as always. “I’ll find us something to eat, too, baby.”

So perfect, so perfect.

Your legs had guided you away from the living room before you could muster a brief goodbye. Maneuvering around shifting bodies, you found yourself counting the steps of the staircase, feeling the utter disappointment when the last steps came out in odd numbers, but the bathroom was two doors down, and the last thing you needed was to obtain tunnel vision from the minor details that didn’t fit your standards of life.

A knock to the wooden door with a silent response lifted the weight off your shoulders, permitting you to open the door and finally receive some peace. But the breath that nested in your throat lost its chance to be of relief, when a presence carried over from behind you, shoving you into the bathroom, with a  determined slam to the door. 

A rough hand muffled any of your attempts to yell out, but your stiffened body had luckily learned to vaguely relax when the man behind you turned you against the bathroom counter, and you came face-to-face with someone who familiarly made your body shudder under his stare. 

His hands moved to grip the porcelain of the sink on either sides of you. “Eddie…” You gulped, as your chest heaved. “God, y-you scared, um, I- is s-something wrong?”

“You’re making quite the impression out there, aren’t ya?” His lip barely curled into a smile, as he stared down at you. “Everyone just fucking loves you, don’t they?”

You refused to meet his eye, trying to move from the caging of his arms, but his persistence left you trapped. “Um,” you sighed, “y-yeah, all your friends are nice-”

“Oh, no, sweetheart, they aren’t my friends.” He spoke so dauntingly. “They’re your boyfriend’s friends, remember? Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “um, I should go, Eddie. I need to leave.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” He deeply chuckled, finding amusement in the panicked look of your face. “You just got here.”

“Look, Eddie, I don’t know what you’re trying to do-”

“Me?” He scoffed. “I’m not tryna do anything, you’re the one that fucking started it.” His forehead forcefully pressed against yours, shoving your head back so you’d finally look him in the eye. “Remember?” He tauntingly cooed at you, getting in your face. “Remember you being a slut, and startin’ it? Because I sure fucking do.” He spat. “So don’t ask me what the fuck I’m doing, when you started it.”

Your breath heavied, as his nose ran against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut to wield the strength to compose your anger, a hatred solely targeted to yourself. You were certain Eddie was feeding off of the visceral pounding of your heartbeat, getting off on the sheer panic of your being. 

And you hated yourself for loving it. 

“N-Not here.” You thickly swallowed. “Please.” Such a desperate plea, and it had him laughing in your face. 

“‘Not here?’” He mocked. “I think I can have you wherever I want, no? It’s sure as hell not like you’re gonna stop me, pretty girl.” A soft kiss planted on your cheek had your eyes opening. “God, you really are so pretty, y’know that, baby? Do you know just how pretty you are?”

“Eddie…” His eyes bored into yours, piercing your desire with a burning itch that had you intoxicated on his strong scent. You watched a smirk etch onto his face, as he watched you follow the outline of his plump lips. Do it. Do it. Do it. You were screaming at yourself to just give in. Thighs clenching, heart racing, mouth salivating for the man that enticed you like no other. Your breath shuddered, as your shaky fingers delicately placed themselves against his shaven face. 

Just a taste. Just a little.

You reached onto your tippy toes to feel the soft skin of his lips gently brush against yours. You were dictating this. He was letting you dictate this. Because when it all crashed, you started it, you’d be to blame. All it took was the shy kiss fueled by your hesitancy for Eddie Munson to consume what he wanted, and his tongue shoved past your teeth to ravage your taste. He had you gasping against his lips, nothing touching you but his mouth, but it felt like he was pinning you against your will. 

Eddie’s knuckles blurred white from the tightening grip you had him enduring, because frustration coursed through his body, as he fought the restraints keeping him from just giving in and fucking you against the bathroom sink. A guttural growl lurched from his chest, “What are you doin’?” He smashed his lips against you. “I didn’t ask you to kiss me.” He sneered.

His comment forced a lump to be caught in your throat, urging you to push away from his chasing lips. “N-No…” Another breathless kiss smeared against you. “Stop, Eddie, we can’t-”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He interrupted with his tongue injected into your mouth. “Remember you wanted this.”

You were awful. “No!” You whined, unwilling to face the reality of your cruelness. 

“Oh, but, yes, baby.” He humiliated you with his mocking tone. “Yes, remember?” He whispered into your make out. “It was you, you fucking looked at me.” Eddie scorned. “How fucking stupid are you to think I wouldn’t do somethin’ about you lookin’ at me, huh? You remember lookin’ at me?” His kisses were becoming more aggressive. “You fucking looked at me, sweetheart!” You felt the air in your lungs burn from his resistance to letting you breathe. “What the fuck do you expect me to do when you were fucking lookin’ at me like that, huh?!” 

And you had been looking at him…

-

Three days ago, the Hideout had been an unfamiliar experience to you on the night of May 30th. It became evident as such when Mary Jane platform pumps rather distastefully met the abhorrent crunch of breaking asphalt from the gravel parking lot, where beat up cars and pick-up trucks haphazardly parked themselves with no formation, clearly lacking the etiquette for what was promised to you as a “nice” establishment. A wave of regret had drowned you in despair as you walked out of your car, immediately being met with the obscene noises coming from a drunken man nearly hacking a lung out, only to shoot his spit and mucus onto the dead bushes that once decorated the place wonderfully in the 60s. You begrudgingly passed the neglected entrance; its doors open for the sleazy, middle-aged men of Hawkins, Indiana to make themselves right at home, as they littered themselves amongst the breadth of the property, sparsely filling up tables and stools with cold beers to accompany them. A gasp of disgust had petered out of your lips, when each step you took sticky film residing on the weathered wood of the floor clung to the outsoles of your beloved heels, coating them with decades of syrupy beer that had found solace within the bar from the happy accidents that tailored the feng shui of the Hideout.

You were appalled. 

It was beyond the definitions of obvious that you had overly dressed yourself for the occasion. It was at this moment, you were mentally curing Braun Peterson for providing the wrong impression, completely overselling the bar he once played in, and disregarding the lack of formality that came with the building and its loyal customers. 

“Babe, it’s got a decked out bar, you can order whatever you like, trust me, my boy Johnny will whip it up, and it’s got plenty of tables for you to sit your pretty self down and enjoy the show. Not to mention, the nicest stage where you can watch me perform. It’s gonna be great, I promise!”

With a rush of worriment devouring you, you insecurely hugged your bare arms over yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the preying eyes of unabashed stares coming from bulky men, old enough to be your father, who proclaimed themselves as regulars and patently peering to you as new meat.

Endeavoring the will to appear not so lost and clueless, you walked with your head held high, a fabricated facade of confidence, and you took refuge onto the high top table that accommodated two uncomfortable stools that shared the same layer of dust as the plastic faux wood of the table.

Yeah, you were definitely going to have it out with Braun Peterson. 

Your body felt rigid, guarding yourself from potentially coming in contact with anything biohazardous, while also feeling so small from the persistent scary stares that you felt so strongly were examining your body as if you had no autonomy. And maybe you were being a bit pretentious at this moment, but given the overflow of staggering malaise that was consuming your being and clearly placing you into an uncomfortable environment, there was an absolute negative chance of actually enjoying the night, especially after you were going to dish one out to Braun. 

Speaking of which, you caught sight of the slick-back, blond hair that was pursuing your way from a slim hallway that catered to the southend of the building, which presumably led backstage. “Hey, you made it!” Incompetent to your unease, Braun had merely stepped up and shoved you into a tight hug, a kiss swiftly placed onto your lips with a smacking mwah.

While he spoke so highly, clearly excited for his performance, you couldn’t fathom reciprocating his energy, immediately stating your concerns with a whine into his embrace. “What is literally wrong with you?”

Judging by your tone, anyone could have discerned the genuine disturbance from being in such situation, but ever the comedian, Braun merely chuckled. “That could be an hour long discussion, babe.” Your eyes flashed with disbelief at his choice to dismiss your evident worries. 

You sighed, resisting the urge to not scream in public to cater to his comfort. “No, Braun, I’m serious. Why didn’t you tell me what kind of bar this was?” You pleaded, hoping he’d acknowledge your troubles rather than brushing them off. That was one thing you had quickly discovered from the months of making it official with Braun Peterson; he had quite the sense of humor, which wasn’t at all particularly harmful, but this “sense of humor” had a funny way of not knowing when to draw the line. The line always seemingly crossing your boundaries. But god forbid you spoke out. Last time you did, his roommate Josh asked you to quit being uptight on Braun’s behalf. “I look like I’m dining at a Michelin Star restaurant, not grabbing drinks at some middle-of-nowhere bar. Why didn’t you specify?”

You really didn’t want to cause such a confrontation on his first night back performing at the place in which he claimed was “the start of everything” for him but, my god, you were seething with irritation. 

“Shit,” he huffed, understanding your worries once he took a glimpse of the perverted looks the attendees were more than glad to show off. “Look, babe, I seriously didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“You said this place was nice, Braun.”

“I know, I- I just knew you wouldn’t be into these kinda bars, but I really wanted you to come see me tonight.” He sighed. “I swear, baby,” he secured your shoulders into his hand, “I just wanted you to be here with me, b-but I screwed up. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

You heaved in defeat, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. He hadn’t been far off with his assumption; twenty-three years of a city setting in the upper east side, where renovated brownstones of contemporary decor were more of your liking rather than the casualness of a lonesome bar. 

Your lips jutted with a mumbled “it’s okay” to pass the tension. But Braun’s hands had worked their way to the fullness of your cheeks, where his thumbs delicately swept under your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” He poured his eyes into yours. “I know it’s not your scene, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, baby.” Braun leaned in to press his lips to yours, and that loving comfort was enough to ease your body into relaxation against his hold. His hands released for the brief seconds it took to take off his leather jacket and hang it over your shoulders. “Keep this on, and if anyone bothers you or-or does something, please just tell me.” He implored. “I’ll be right on stage, only a couple feet away, I’ll see you, okay?”

Huffing a sigh, you simply nodded, choosing to come to a consensus of trying to enjoy the night. It had been close to reaching a year that you agreed to be Braun’s girlfriend, and from then, he’d been dying to show you everything about himself. Following the end of the school year from university, Braun had made plans to spend the summer back in his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, where he had adamantly informed you about the band, the one in which he partook throughout his high school career, Corroded Coffin. And there was no denying it, the bubbling feelings of a blossoming relationship, one where your boyfriend had an actual desire to share the intimate parts of his life with, like seeing where he grew up, made you burst with excitement. 

Because even with his flaws, Braun Peterson had a gentle touch that filled your heart with a promising future of blissful contentment. 

“I won’t leave you out here,” his hand found its way to your thigh, “afterwards, I’ll have drinks brought backstage, where me, you, and the guys can just relax in peace. Away from these creeps.” He gripped with loving reassurance. “And- and, I promise you some of the most incredible food, okay?”

You snickered through your nose with a bit of suspicion. “From here?”

Braun laughed at your wariness. “From Benny’s Burger, got the best diner food for your pretty belly.” You arched your brow, pushing it until he gave in. “Okay, okay, Enzo’s. Seconds, thirds, all on me, baby, whatever you want.”

“Deal.” He sealed your agreement with a playful handshake. 

He smiled at you, bringing a comforting hand to your neck. “Thank you, again, pretty.” His thumb caressed. “Just wanna share this experience with you. Wanna let you know how cool I was back in high school.” He teased, as you giggled. “Here, gimme kiss.”

Braun pulled you in for a sweet kiss, letting your worries wash away with his reassurement, because he always had you. “You’re gonna do great, I’m sure of it.” You smiled against him. 

“Only ‘cause I have you here cheering me on.” Braun finished you off with one more kiss. “Remember, I’m only a couple feet away, I’ll come grab you once we’re done.” 

With that, Braun Peterson left you to your own accord, securing the warm leather of his jacket around you, as you watched him disappear into the back. Disagreements and solutions. Compromises and sacrifices. This is what it meant for the man who cherished your time, and publicly showed it like no other. Everything was okay. Until the minutes passed of tugging on your lip with anticipation, and the staged lights dimmed.

Everything was okay.

But the center spotlight had rained against a figure, and you hadn’t even internalized the fact that a stranger physically made your body react with a gasp, as you merely took in the sight of him. 

Him, who caressed his warlock, fingers teasing the strings, and lips kissing the mic with heavy pants of excitement. “Nice to see some familiar faces!” He grinned, scanning the all too familiar bar that let his amateur band of misfits play every Tuesday night; the regular bar goers seemingly flooding him with memories of his youth years. But then, his eyes landed on you. Front and center. “Even better to see some… new faces.” His lips curled into a menacing smirk, drinking up your stunning face.

Your heartbeat pummeled out of your chest, heat chewing at your cheeks, as his daunting figure had you shying away with a flush state, like you were a school girl receiving her first valentine, forcing you to wrap Braun’s jacket tighter around you.

Shit, Braun!

Quickly, your eyes diverted to the man you should have been gawking at, tuning his guitar before peering up with a smile that held all the good in the world, one he solely dedicated to you on a daily basis. You mustered a shy smile back, attempting to swallow the guilt. And this is where it should have ended. It’d be quite ignorant to dismiss the reality that attractive people come and go everyday during relationships, so this is all it was. You saw something pretty, you admired it, you left it. That’s what you promised. That’s what you committed. So you blinked yourself straight, and gave small claps of encouragement to your boyfriend. 

But the eerie feedback from the mic had your head snapping to the front man, and as expected, his gaze hadn’t left your body once; a smirk devouring his face when your eyes caught his. That night, an alluring spark ignited within Eddie Munson, and he was determined to indulge in it. 

“We’re gonna perform a couple songs for old times’ sake, bring some life back into you old fucks.” He jabbed comments eliciting some laughter from the crowd that watched these antsy boys torment their ears years before. “So just like back then, as always, I’m Eddie and we’re fucking Corroded Coffin!”

The thrash to his guitar introduced the blaring cords of a song, reminiscent to one Braun typically played for the background noise of when your naked bodies dreamily slapped together. The frontman’s stage performance flooded your senses as you became mesmerized by the fluid movement of his fingers abusing the delicate strings, and his husky voice yelling the lyrics to the abrasive song. He was encapsulating the beauty of metal with such ease and grace, playing his heart out for a dingy bar filled with good-for-nothing men. It felt so utterly undeserving. He was meant for a real stage. 

Eddie.

That’s what it was. That’s all it fucking was. It had to be. You weren’t a bad person. You couldn’t be. The familiar tunes matching that of how Braun Peterson would rut his hips into yours was the sole reason for the tantalizing heat that was creeping within your body, not because of the man with the long hair who punctured his hungry glare against you, as he belted the grotesque lyrics of whatever song it was that you never cared to officially learn the title to. But how could you have ever found the will to learn, when Braun would consume your thoughts with the drilling of his cock to the beat of the song? Why couldn’t that be enough? Why had your hips subconsciously rolled to find some needed friction against your seat to the thought of Eddie burying his face between the warmth of your body? 

Why did it feel like he was burning you alive?

The disgusting reality of your endeavor to get off on a dirty stool to another man had hit you like a ton of bricks, rightfully slapping you in the face with utter shame for who you were, and you didn’t dare to spare Eddie another glance; eyes fluttering around embarrassingly to look at anything other than Eddie. 

Braun. Braun. Braun. 

He was right there. He always had been. 

The night dragged on for an unbearable hour, filled with the ongoing cycle of desiring something that wasn’t yours and the self-loathing hatred to follow. The burn of Eddie gaze had your body crippling with anxiety, and you engaged yourself to only peer at the man who’d brought you pure happiness for the last ten months of your life. But he was there; torturing you with his eyes that felt laser-cutting from a mile away, despite how adamant you forced yourself to refuse his attention.

You hadn’t even verbalized a word to him yet. And it was devastatingly pathetic how submissive he had you. 

The last cord of the night strung out with the fellow patrons commemorating their boys for the nice trip down memory lane. You adjusted yourself to gently cheer along, feeling awful when Braun’s brightful smile had never once dropped because of your presence in the crowd. Just focus on him. It was all you had to do. As the men walked off with their equipment, Braun’s sweaty figure jumped from the stage, heading straight for you.

You immediately jumped from your seat, forgoing the complaints of him being sweaty to hold him in your arms with such fervency. “You did so great!” His hands held your back, delicate kisses pressing into the crook of your neck. 

“Yeah?” He searched for your validation, only ever caring for your words, as he mumbled into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell that comforted the adrenaline high he was experiencing. “You, uh, you liked the first song I picked out?” His brows teased.

“Of course!” You cupped his face to bring him into a smearing kiss that he gladly reciprocated. You pulled away, staring into his soft eyes that held all innocence, and you cursed yourself for ever thinking of another man when such beauty was held in the palm of your hand. Your thumbs gently swept on the underside of his eyes, as he smiled down at you. “You were amazing, Braun.” You sincerely spoke. Overcompensating? Completely. But you needed him to be okay, and his happiness was worth it. “You always are so amazing, Braun.”

He brought you in for another embrace, and sealed it with a loving kiss that had you melting in his arms. “You’re pretty fucking amazing, too, Y/N.” He spoke. “C’mon, baby, let's go on back.”

“W-wait!” You steadied yourself within your position, holding his hand tightly. “Um, w-we can just stay out here, I’m sorry for getting mad earlier.” 

His head dropped, lips jutting at you before he landed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t apologize where you don’t need to apologize, baby.” He urged. “Don’t gotta make yourself uncomfortable for me- in fact, I won’t allow it. Not after dragging you here in the first place.”

“No, really it’s fine-”

“It’s not, baby, I don’t want you out here.” Braun persisted. “Plus, I’ve been talkin’ the guys’ ears off about you, I’m sure they’d love to put your pretty face to your name. Promise they’re not as scary as you think.”

What a fucking lie. 

A journey to the back hallway led you to the chipped door, where Braun relinquished a double courtesy knock before entering the room, where a waft of sweat and cologne welcomed you to the small dressing room that held the members of Corroded Coffin. Shifting behind your boyfriend, your eyes landed around the burgundy painted walls, littered with posters of the previous self-made artist who first established themselves at the Hideout. Where they were now? More than likely not Hollywood, given the cheesy names teenagers thought were cool at the time. 

“Hey, uh, guys, gained a new fan today, Y/N, this is Gareth, Jeff, and…” A polite smile to both identified men waving back to greet you was easy enough. “Where’s Ed?” Thank god.

Braun directed you to the couch, leather and torn, with its yellow foam of cushion peering from the tears after years of being broken in by body weight. “Talkin’ to Nicky out back by the stage.” Gareth had answered, as a hand towel harshly rubbed against his head to ease the dripping sweat from his frizzy curls. 

“Nicky’s the bar owner.” Braun intimately informed you, graciously bringing you into the loop. 

“You enjoy the show?” Jeff, with a genuine attempt at conversation, had gestured for you to engage in. Perhaps it was the blatant stiffness of your body from the wariness of sitting on the couch that surely soaked copious amounts of bodily fluids than you’d like to imagine, that got him to ask for your honest opinion. Or, the other obvious, that you clearly dress far from the usual scene that was typical for a Corroded Coffin performance at the Hideout. 

Trying to atone your ignorance to the metal scene, and whatever the hell tension that was between you and the frontman, your head awkwardly nodded in response. “Yeah, um, yeah, I did.” Braun’s reassuring hand landed on your knee. “I’m still getting used to our difference in music taste,” luckily that was receptive to a couple chuckles, “but it was great seeing him, a-and you guys out there, as well.”

Heavy footsteps from the stage announced themselves as they entered the dressing room, and your body hardened at the mere sight of his shining chest, coated in his perspiration, drenching the line of hairs of his abdomen to seep into the low hanging waistline of his pants. Your eyes snapped to the wooden floors, as Braun jumped to give a brief greeting to his friend who ultimately settled against the water dispenser right in front of you. 

“Ah, now that you’re all here, babe, this is Eddie; Ed, this is girlfriend, Y/N.” Already accustomed to your presence, Gareth and Jeff felt no need to weigh in another hello, which resulted in an unfortunate silence, after Eddie, himself, decided staring at you was the only formal approach. 

But it wasn’t until his intentionally loud, “huh,” that pierced the silent, did your stomach drop with fear. “This is your girlfriend?” Your eyes stung at the inevitable occurrence of your boyfriend’s friend outing you in front of everyone as the girl who just couldn’t keep her eyes to herself. 

Braun’s brows cinched at his question, huffing in confusion. “Why’re you sayin’ it like that?”

Eddie had quickly dismissed him with a nonchalant shake to his head. “I dunno, what’ve pictured you with a girl like Mindy, ‘s all.” What an asshole. 

You knew it’d be hypocritical to suddenly interrogate your boyfriend on whoever it was Eddie was referring to, especially when it showed Eddie’s intentions were not the purest of them all with the mention of a certain ex. “The fuck, dude, no, that was nearly two years ago.” Braun quickly shut down, evidently not amused with whatever game his buddy was trying to pull. 

“Relax.” He chuckled, plucking a small toothpick from the table of plattered junk food into his mouth. “Only teasin’, man, y’know me. Plus, it’s good, shows good progress on your part; movin’ from small town pretty to big city pretty.” Eddie pointed a ringed finger at you. 

Braun merely rolled his eyes at the arrogant attitude he’d learned to adjust to throughout his years in high school, but when he turned to you, and saw the tight-lipped smile you gave, he leaned in to comfort you. “Don’t give him a second thought.” He whispered against your hair. “Eddie’s just… out there.”

Patting your thigh, Braun walked to join his friend at the water dispenser, leaving you to heave the tightening breaths of your chest from the sudden suffocation you felt from guilt and anxiety. “C’mon, man, lay off the comments, alright?” Braun quietly spoke to Eddie. “I don’t need you chasin’ her away when I actually love her.”

“‘Love?’” Eddie playfully whistled. “Hm, you must actually care for this girl, huh?” 

Braun confirmed with his lovesick smile that made Eddie want to hurl. Soon, Braun was leaning in close to bump his friend in the chest. “So what d'ya think?”

Eddie’s daunting eyes looked past Braun’s shoulder, connecting with your fretful ones, and a sickeningly smile creased his face. He tsked, watching your ostentatious manner refusing to touch the furniture he and his buddies called home. “Seems a little… anal-retentive.” He smirked at Braun. “But, hey, she’s cute, and y’know what, if you like, I like her.” If only Braun Peterson knew of the extent of the underlying meaning his closest friend was alluding to. “You good to her? Treat her well?” Eddie questioned. 

“Of course.” Your boyfriend was quick to answer. 

“That’s good, that’s good.” Eddie casually nodded along, chewing on the wooden stick between his teeth. “Aye, because y’know pretty girls like her will be quick to look for another man to satisfy her. Gotta treat ‘em well, so they keep their fucking legs closed.” The toothpick snapped at the sudden clenching of his teeth, before Eddie sighed a heavy breath to calm himself. “But I think you gotta good girl on your hands, Brauny, nothin’ to worry about.” Eddie dragged out, before calling to you. “Hey, that seat comfortable for you sweetheart? Need a stool or somethin’?”

A wave of nausea slapped you, as you watched his sinister smile. 

Eddie Munson totally saw trying to get off at the sight of him. 

-

His minacious laugh puffed in your face, as he loved watching your eyes crumble in self-reproach from your actions. “Yeah, you fuckin’ remember, baby?” He cooed, as your head dropped with guilt as to what you had just done. But his abrasive hand was quick to forcefully grab your face, cheeks squishing under his tight grip. “Don’t feel bad, princess, it’s okay to share a little.” Eddie smiled, as your eyes frantically looked into his. “Quit the fucking innocent act.” He advised you. “You and I both know how much of a slut you are.”

“I-I,” your thoughts had been racing with the screams of wanting him off of you, but your body was falling limp in his arms, ready to let him take what you so desperately wanted him to take. The words died on your tongue, when suddenly harshing pounding came from the door.

“Yo, anyone in there?!” A drunken voice called out. 

“I’ll be out a second!” You managed to rip through your shaky voice, while Eddie breathily chuckled, his hand refusing to let go of your face. 

Hearing the partygoer’s footsteps decline in the distance, your heart eased for the slightest moment, and suddenly your nervous system was wailing for you to leave while you could. But before you knew it, unexpectedly, the softest kiss was placed upon your scrunched lips from the man who nearly devoured your mouth so aggressively two seconds ago; you had no choice but to be receptive. “So sweet.” He gently moved his lips against you, it had your tummy erupting with the sensations of a new touch. “So fucking perfect, y’know that? Just how perfect you are?”

Every time he briefly left your lips, you whined for more attention, quickly bringing your lips back to him with a sigh of his name, “Eddie.” 

“Mm,” he moaned against your mouth. “I can see why Brauny never shuts the fuck up about you.” The mention of his name had you stiffening. “Tell me, baby, do you suck his cock as good as you kiss him?”

Stunned and repulsed by the jerk you let kiss you, you shoved Eddie’s chest back, finally getting him off of you, and before you mind could process, your hand connected to his cheek with a stinging slap. Your burning hand had trembled, as it slowly clasped it over your mouth in disbelief. Eddie slowly turned to you with a sly grin, but before he could make any movements, your feet finally found the courage to sweep you out of the bathroom with a harsh slam to the door. 

On autopilot, you quickly descended down the stairs into the lively living room that did little to ease the bloodcurdling thud of your beating heart that felt as if it was going to rip out of you. It wasn’t until a hand latched itself to the bicep of your arm, reeling you back against a body. 

“Hey, hey, you okay, hon?” Braun’s voice echoed into your ear.

“U-Um-”

“Baby, look, if this is about what Cheryl said, please don’t pay any mind to it.” He stroked your arm with concern. “She- everybody here just has a traditional way of thinking, but it’s not what I think. I promise, I’m not looking to shove a proposal down your throat when you’re not ready.” Braun had a fascinating way of calming your worries that drastically differed from the rush Eddie had just forced you through. “Hell, I’m not even ready.” He chuckled, which was able to elicit a small smile from you, at least. “I wanna take my time with you, cherish my moments with you, baby.” 

God, you were an awful human being. 

Peering behind his shoulder, you watched Eddie saunter his way down the stairs with a lingering stare that quickly found yours. “C-Can we go?” You hastily rushed out. “I’m just a little overwhelmed m-meeting all these new people.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah.” He’s quick to drop off the beers to the living room side tables that were supposed to be your drinks. “C’mon, baby, let’s just take a breather.” 

If you knew the guilt Braun Peterson felt for the sole reason of throwing you into a crowd of overwhelming people when you’d literally just kissed his closest friend, you would have pathetically begged on your knees for his forgiveness in front of everyone, and detailed the million ways he was so incredible. But this would stay quiet; suppurating within you, because the peace on his face was more important than wrecking his life. As he guided you to the front door, you looked back to meet the eyes of the man who sparked a match inside you, his arm hanging around a blonde, when you wanted to be the one held under it. Eddie Munson winked at you, cruelly changing the course of your life. 

-

For the days to come, Braun saw an immense amount of affection coming from your part. But who was he to complain, when someone as pretty and sweet as you willingly showed the world how much you loved him? Welcoming the morning sun with your tongue prodded at the slit of his tip, before ferociously waking him with the ride of his life, as your ass pummeled against his thighs, only for the cherry on top to come when breakfast was served like you suddenly became a housewife to your boyfriend. But you’d do whatever if it meant getting the image of his best friend out of your head, despite it leading to the best orgasm you’ve ever had when you pictured it was his cock you were riding, only to realize your lip had been sputtering with blood, because you refused your mouth the need to call out his name, Eddie! 

But Friday night came, and it seemed your thoughts satiated under the cuddle of your boyfriend, who agreed to a movie night that entailed buying an obscene amount of candy from the Family Video store, where Labyrinth was purchased alongside the sweets. Wrapped under his embrace, a thick woven blanket swallowed you against the rugged couch of the basement, where you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper. 

For once, peace had come, tranquilizing the tumultuous feelings that consumed you alive. That was until the basement door impetuously flung open before echoing with a slam, that had yours and Braun’s head snapping to the stairs that creaked under the incoming weight. “Mason?” He called out for his cousin.

But it wasn’t the familiar face of his family member who lent you both the basement of his house, and your stomach twisted with fear. “Nope.” He popped the enunciation, as his hair bounced with every step until he reached the bottom step. “But he let me in.”

Braun sat up with a curious look, too occupied with the arrival of his friend to notice the rash way you curled into his side. “Hey, you alright? What’s up?” His eyes followed, as Eddie dramatically plopped himself on the singular recliner next to the couch. 

“Ah, nothing.” He made himself at home, clearly lacking the regard of his intrusion to your night. “Just hangin’ around, thought I’d stop by.” His eyes glued to the television screen. 

“Not that we don’t appreciate you, man,” Braun began, “but, uh, this is kinda just a movie night… for us.”

Eddie watched the oddity of the movie for a split second, before his head twisted to the both of you, eyeing the closeness with a piqued brow. “Which one of you freaks picked this movie? Was it you, sweetheart?” He smiled, as he watched you shift uncomfortably. 

“Alright, c’mon, Ed, seriously.” Braun interjected. 

“I’m kidding.” Eddie scoffed. “C’mon, Brauny, it’s been months since I’ve seen you, the least you two could do is spare the couple minutes of whatever touching is going on under that blanket, and let me relax here for a minute.” He argued, sinking into his chair. You watched Braun sigh, for whatever reason suddenly becoming a lap dog to the friend he long admired throughout high school, merely bringing you closer as means to make up for it. 

“By the way, driving all the way here seems to be the last resort to relaxing.” Braun poked. 

“Aw, c’mon did you actually think I was thinkin’ of you, Brauny?” He wooed, his eyes briefly connecting with you, as Braun rolled his. “Was seein’ Cynthia down the street.” Eddie answered. 

“Dude, Ed, doesn’t she have a kid?” Braun grimaced, recalling the moments in which his cousin’s neighbor—three doors down with a minivan and white shutters—threw him an occasional hello with a stroller evident on her walk around the neighborhood. 

“So fuckin’ what?” He laughed, causing your stomach to churn with disgust. “That kid made her have massive tits, it’s not like I’m looking to be the stepfather.” Eddie smiled looking back at you, your eyes refusing to meet his. “Just a simple exchange of goods for services.” He proudly announced. “Speakin’ of which, I happen to give Cynthia my last couple’a joints, you got any to smoke here?”  

“No.” Braun sighed, scruffing his hair with his hand. “Haven’t gotten the chance to speak to Rick to get some, miss it, though.” 

“Then go get some.” 

Fuck, you knew what he was doing. 

“Me? This is my place you barged into, you go.” Braun retaliated to his friend’s taunting. 

“Can’t,” Eddie tsked, “kinda fucked around with the blonde Rick had his eye on a couple nights ago at Eric’s.” He laughed. “But in my defense, she never clarified, and was fairly easy, so, I mean…”

“Can you ever learn to just keep it in your pants?” Braun jabbed, forcing his friend to chuckle at the joke. 

“Priorities, Brauny, Priorities.” Eddie winked, before reaching into his back pocket, retrieving the loose dollar bills from his tattered wallet to slap against the center coffee table. “Look, it’s on me, we can wait for you here, right, sweetheart?” 

No, no, no. Your knees clutched to your chest, as you tried to steady the breaths that were already becoming uneasy from his presence alone. Braun peered down at you. “You can come if you want. Just gotta wait in the car, don’t want you meetin’ someone like him.” 

Your eyes flickered to the man who was sickeningly grinning, somehow having the power to pull a pulsating sensation from your pussy that had you swallowing thickly. “I-It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I can just wait here.” You spoke so meekly, as though you’d been the victim in this situation, when Braun’s pure smile beamed down at you. 

“Thirty minutes top, baby.” A quick kiss landed against you, before he stood from the couch. “Don’t let him burn the house down, please.” Braun joked, slamming his hand against the table to pocket the money Eddie provided. 

“Gotta good girl’s influence hanging over me,” Eddie smiled, “nothing to worry about, Brauny.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, running a soft hand against the top of your head to wish you goodbye. “Love you, baby, be right back.” 

“I love you.” You shared the sentiment, watching him jog upstairs, where the basement door closed behind him with a deafening silence that shot through you. You watched the door for far longer than needed, a pressuring sting coming from your nail digging into your cuticle to get rid of the apprehension that festered in your belly. 

Eddie laughed. “What a fucking liar.” Your head snapped, ready to scream at him that your words held truth; the deep admiration for the man who did nothing wro- “That I am.” Eddie added, pulling out a zippo lighter from his pocket followed by a joint. He lavished in the twitching of your eyes, flashing from anger to anxiousness under the action of him shedding his jacket to light what was brought to his lips. 

A puff of cloud escaped his mouth before he spoke. “Take a hit, baby, you’re so goddamn tense I can practically feel the stick up your ass.” He stood from his place to sit next to you, immediately rolling his eyes as he found you shifting away from him, until your back hit the far end of arm rest, feet digging into the cushion as your knees stayed glued to your chest. “Relax, alright-”

“Eddie, we can’t-”

“I’m only tryin’ to get you to relax, shut up for two seconds and take a fucking hit.” He scolded, and your eyes widened under his intimidation. His body scooted until your painted toes were trapped beneath the heavy weight of his denim-clad thick thighs, allowing him to bring the joint to your face. “Don’t wanna have to get mean, just put it in your mouth.” You wondered where the anger from your assault to his face was lingering, surely the hit had to have pissed him off to some degree. His fingertips pressed against your lips, as your mouth enveloped the end of the joint, welcoming the burn to your throat. “Look so cute with that shit in your mouth, so good, princess.” 

You pushed his hand away when it became too much, trying to control your coughing from the large intake. “T-Too much.”

“Mhm, I know, baby.” He whispered, watching your lips pout, as his hand caressed your leg. Bringing the joint to his lips and hearing it sizzle, Eddie moaned against it. “Fuck, I can taste your mouth on it.”

You pushed your knee away to get his hand to fall back into his lap, where his fingers only moved to hover over the bulge of his pants, as he took more hits. Soon, his sole hand was undoing the buckle of his belt, and your brows arched against his movement, yet your mouth stayed quiet from any protest. 

Your lips parted in awe watching his cock spring against his belly, pants coming to hang around his thighs. His finger came to gently tease the head, before his hand wrapped to smear the precum that oozed from the tip. So casually, Eddie Munson began fucking his hand so casually, as if you weren’t sitting next to him. He acted as though he was in the comfort of his own bedroom, and you wondered whether the bit of anger that mixed in with the arousal that pressed against your belly was from the fact that he could get off without even sparing a glance at you. 

He smoked and jerked his cock, letting you bask in the glory of his heavy member, where his hand tugged the loose skin of his big balls to smack against his hairy thighs. As casual as he was, Eddie was itching to turn his head and watch your legs clench with need, something his peripheral could only get a glance at, but Eddie Munson wasn’t giving in. He felt your toes curl under his thigh, your body speaking for itself to be touched. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He twisted his palm against the slick head of his cock, before he squeezed down to his base for more tugs that had him wondering if your pussy felt anywhere near as good as his hand. You watched his fingers pull up his shirt, until his teeth bit down to hold the fabric up, and his toned toros was cramping from the sensation he was bringing himself. “Mmm!” He moaned, wetting his shirt with his mouth, as his hand became relentless against the thumping veins of his cock. 

No longer a thought of need, his fingers abandoned the lit joint to the ashtray that stayed stationed on the table with a few cigarettes, and his free fingers traveled to toy with his nipples, pulling the pebbled nubs to spark up his impending orgasm. “Ugh, mm!” His hips were gyrating upward, chasing the fleshlight that was his hand, as his speed increased, and your hands grasped onto the old couch for the needed restraint to not throw yourself onto him. 

With an aggressive jerk to his cock, and a stinging pinch to his nipple, the angry red head of his dick sputtered out his creamy cum, dribbling against his belly before the pool collected against his unruly pubic hair. 

His shirt slowly slipped from his teeth, as Eddie caught his breath with heavy grunts. “Fuck me, shit.” Taking his fingers, he dragged it around the breadth of his belly to gather the seeping cum, where he finally turned to you with dark eyes, and used his cum tainted fingers to motion you closer. 

You body mindlessly complied until those same fingers were pressing into your mouth, letting his salty spent invade your taste buds, before your throat began getting fucked. “Wanna fucking slap me and walk away, huh?” His free hand wrapped behind your neck to keep you gagging at his mercy. “Wanna get mad at me for you being a filthy slut? ‘N drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy?” You whined, holding his wrist in an attempt to ease the thrashing of his fingers down your throat. “God, so fucking pretty.” 

His fingers ripped from your tongue, but before your lungs could get a breath of fresh air, his mouth was on you, replacing his fingers with his tongue, as he kissed you with such ferocity, it nearly felt like a punishment. Teeth clashing and biting, you mewled in protest. “Eddie!” You gasped pushing away, but his hands kept your face close. 

“What, you don’t want me to?” He mocked, before laughing. “Y’know I don’t give a fuck.” Pushing you back against the couch, Eddie climbed over you where his mouth continued his assault against your lips, and your hands wavered into his sweaty curls. 

In the briefest moment your lips disconnected, “W-We need to-” You moaned, feeling his plump lip suction against yours. “Stop, Eddie, we should- ugh!” Eddie pulled away and watched your body crave more, but your eyes stung with its glassy coating of tears that were threatening to spill. “Braun…”

“Aw, he’s gonna come back soon, ‘n you don’t wanna get caught.” He whispered, as his forehead fell against yours. 

“He’s your friend.” Your voice cracked with guilt. 

Eddie huffed. “You better listen clearly.” His hand wrapped around your jaw to force your eyes to his. “Brauny’s a big boy. Yeah, he may be my friend, but Brauny’s got this pretty, little thing that I need to play with, so being frank with you, baby, I don’t care.” His nose flared with anger, as his words stung. “And I’m gonna need you to cut this bullshit sorry act, because it’s really pissin’ me off, and I don’t wanna have to get angry with you.” He hissed. “Okay, baby?” 

You stared into his dark eyes, mouth gulping to reply. “Okay.” And once again, your lips grazed his, letting him groan into your mouth. 

“Mm, you really are so pretty, angel, such a good girl listenin’ to me.” He murmured. “Looking like this, how could your boyfriend ever expect me to keep my hands off of you?” He kissed. “You gonna let me touch you- touch that needy fuckin’ clit. I’ve never touched one before, you gonna let me touch yours?” He tormented with the brushing of his fingers against your pajama shorts. 

You pouted your lips at him, brows cinching at his words. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

And Eddie Munson snuck that signature laugh in your laugh that you didn’t appreciate, but your pussy surely did. “What does it matter if I’m lyin’ to you, you’re gonna let me touch you, anyway.” His fingers curled around the scrunchy waistband, before pulling them from your legs to expose your sopping cunt to the cold air of the basement. “Fuck, look at that.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but with a hand over his where he parted your legs, you chin tucked in to delicately ask him a question. “Did you really have sex with those girls?”

Eddie smiled, tongue lapping at his lip as he looked at you. “Does it hurt your feelings if I did?” You shrugged, not really sure why you asked, though clearly agitated by the knowing answer. “Do I gotta tell you pretty things, so you don’t get hurt?”

His hand combed through your patch of pubes, tickling your abdomen in a way that had your body seeking for more. “Please, Eddie.” 

“Mm, what is it, baby?” His nails raked down the side of your pussy lips, deliberately avoiding your slit to tease the nerves of your mound. “Need your little pussy touched? It’s so fucking gorgeous.” You nodded, scratching his forearm down to his wrist to urge his movements further. “Gimme another kiss first, princess.”

You pulled him in, letting your kiss spark up the butterflies that loved to erupt in your tummy whenever you saw him. Not so harshly as before, your kiss passionately swallowed you both, with the sweet connection of saliva that strung between your moving lips. But you had an appetite for more, grossly moving the kiss into a heated direction that had him moaning on your teeth. Denying yourself from him was punishment enough, the care no longer festered, you were getting what you deserved. 

“Uh, calm yourself, baby.” He spoke between kisses with a teasing chuckle. “Look at you so desperate, shh, calm down. Be slow with me for a second, sweetheart.” You obeyed, slowing your movements into a languid interaction, before your lips latched onto his tongue, pulling it out from his mouth to suck on, as if it was his cock, because you never got the chance to fully taste his musk. 

Eddie mewled, cock twitching against your thigh, as your action had him melting with a burning desire. Finally, the squelching noise of your dripping arousal echoed into the room, as his fingers dove into the folds of your pussy. “Is that your fucking clit, baby? Listen to how wet your pussy is for me.”

“Mm, Eddie.” You sucked in a breath, as your fat bud was being toyed with.

“Moaning for me, princess, you’re moaning.” He whispered into your ear. “‘Cause you're mine right now, I’m making you moan, not him, hm. Not your little Brauny. You only moan for me, at least for right now, because you have a boyfriend.” You absentmindedly nodded along to whatever words he was feeding you, too caught up with your pussy being played with to care. “We’ll see about that.” He laughed, before nipping at your earlobe. 

“Wanna touch you, too, baby.” You whined, reaching for his hung cock, letting your hands twirl around the heated length that was circulating with enough blood to fuck you for multiple rounds. 

Eddie hissed. “Sss, what are you doin’? Grabbin’ my fucking cock?” He smiled, as you stroked him, allowing him to plunge his fingers into your tightening cunt, as both your movements fell in sync with one another. “Grab it, yes, baby, fuckin’ grab that cock!”

“Fuck, that feels so good, Eddie!” His fingers pulled out to rub your clit, before suddenly your pelvis jolted with the burning sensation of his hand coming down to your pussy. “Eddie!”

“Lemme slap that clit, lemme slap that fucking clit, baby.” Your wetness splashed against your inner thighs with each spanking of his hand. “God, you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart. Such a pretty girl, I’m fucking losin’ my control over you. Got you strokin’ my cock, while my fingers fuck your pussy, and I love it, baby, I love it so fucking much.” He babbled, teeth biting down to keep the worse words in. Your brows furrowed, as his fingers blasted within you, hooking inside to scratch that throbbing g-spot that had you wailing with want. “Smile for me, baby, smile ‘cause I’m making my baby feel so good.”

And you did, letting your head crash back with your mouth hanging open with an inebriated smile tugging at your lips, as you played with each other. His lips crashed down for another smearing kiss that had your tongues desperately pirouetting around each other. 

Your thighs began shaking under his control, pistoling his fingers in a way that was bringing you closer to your release. While looking down at your thrusting hips, he simultaneously pulled away from your kiss, leaving you to whine for his return. “No! More!”

He looked back up into those pathetic round eyes and scrunched brows with your bitten lips that nearly had him collapsing with another orgasm, as your hands pulled at the head of his cock and squeezed his balls. “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me like that.” He warned, not ready to release his load if it wasn’t going to be inside of you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his sweaty face, beads of perspiration invading his hairline, as his face flushed with a blushing rose that surely made him feel embarrassed with how vulnerable he looked. “Don’t fuckin’- don’t you- ugh- no, no, no, no!”

His large hand slapped your cheek, forcing your face away, leaving you gasping in disbelief. ��I’ll fuckin’ slap you.” He spat, watching you merely turn your head back with a sparking revelation in your eyes that made you look even more beautiful. “I’ll slap your stupid fucking face-” Another stinging crash to you cheek that had you crying in pain, but you kept looking for more. “You like that shit?”

You hurriedly nodded, letting your tears pool from the growing pain that tightened your pussy around his fingers. “Yes, more!”

A harsh smack landed on your cheek once more, agitating your poor skin. “Mhm, like that, me fucking slapping that stupid, little fucking face.” His hand felt the wetness of your tears drenching your cheeks with every slap. “Bruisin’ that pretty fucking face, fuck! C’mere, c’mere!” 

His tongue lavished against your burning skin, bringing tingles to your body when his spit-covered tongue ran against your hot cheek to lick up your salty tears. “Get your fuckin’ hands off my cock, I’m shovin’ it inside your desperate cunt.” Eddie declared, slapping his tip to your pussy, to let your wetness pour on his dick. 

A harsh stab to your pussy lunged his thick cock into your pulsating walls, urging a screaming moan from your lungs. “Fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His hands clamped around the front of your thighs to fold you in half. 

“Ugh, fuck! Slow, p-please, baby, slow!” You wailed. 

“Yeah?” He cooed, driving his thrust down to one punctuated one every second. “You want this cock slowly, can’t fucking handle this tight, little pussy getting fucked hard?”

Your trembling hands cupped his face, letting you bring him down for a consuming kiss. “J-Just wanna feel all of you.” 

“You are, baby, you are.” Eddie pierced himself into your g-spot. “Feel it deep inside, baby, feel my fucking cock all the way inside! Just for you! You- you fucking dirty, filthy whore!” The muscles of his ass tightly clenched to pound you thoroughly with each stroke. “Gonna let me do it faster? Huh? Fuck you into this fucking couch until your some braindead slut? Look at you taking my cock!” His hips began slapping faster. “Gonna be fucking good for me?”

“Uh-huh! Always, fuck!”

“You will?” He taunted. “You fucking will? You’ll take this cock whenever I want you to? Whenever I want this pussy of mine? In front of your boyfriend? Tie him to a fuckin’ chair, and force him to watch me fuck his pretty girlfriend’s little cunt!”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me better than him!” Your hips moved to meet his slapping thighs, as you clenched around his cock to milk him with the cum you wanted in your cunt. “Want him to watch me take your fat cock!”

An animalistic growl forced its way out of chest, as the image of his best friend crying over the despair of betrayal elicited him to rut his hips into you fervently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” His head dropped against your chest, reveling in the commotion of your bouncing tits that were urging to be freed. His hands pulled at your shirt, exposing your boobs that were quickly squished together under his hands, as his tongue lapped around your nipple. 

“Ugh, yes, you’re gonna make me cum!” You heaved, finding your hand had landed on his thigh at a weak attempt to slow his crashing movements into your pussy. 

“Beautiful fucking tits!” He nibbled on your pointy nipples, forcing those whines that drove him crazy to come out. “So fuckin’ delicious! And just for me!”

“Just for you! Only you!” 

“Yeah?” He pouted at you. “Fuck, fucking lick my hand, lick my fucking hand, you bitch.” His palm landed on your mouth, where you dumbly stuck your tongue out to taste the sweatiness of his hand, before that same hand came crashing down on your cheek for the umpteenth time. “Stick that filthy fuckin’ tongue out when I slap you in the fuckin’ face!”

You obliged, letting the wet muscle hang out as another slap landed on your face, forcing your head to the side. But turning your face back with the expectation of one more slap fell short, when instead, a glob of warm spit hit your tongue, one after another. 

“Fuckin’ clean that asshole from you fucking holes!” More spit. “‘Cause you’re mine! Not his! With my spit in your mouth and my cum in your pussy, you’ll be fuckin mine, right?!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the rope in your belly was hanging on by a mere thread ready to snap. “Yes! Yes! Just yours!” You cried out. “Cleanse me! Cleanse me with your cum and make me yours!”

Eddie’s hand pressed down against your pelvis harshly, prompting a gushing stream of your hot squirt to wet yourself and his thighs, as you screamed from the highs of orgasmic ecstasy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I’m cumming! I’m- FUCK!”

Nothing but heavy breaths could be heard in the basement that reeked of sex and bodily fluids. Your hands fell limp around his neck, whereas he sagged the entirety of his dead weight against your chest. His teeth grinded from the continuation of your pussy clenching around him, as your body tried to settle at the unfamiliar size that inculcated itself brutality into your cunt. 

It was quiet. It was peace. 

Until the ringing in your ears subsided, and slowly began picking up on the maniacal laugh that was coming from the man who slowly picked up his head from your chest to greet your un-whitening vision with a sinister smile, and suddenly you felt the pit in your stomach sink. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve just made a big fuckin’ mistake.” He chuckled, harshly pressing his forehead into yours, causing the seat cushion to dent beneath you. “Y’know why?” He tantalized, watching your eyes grow big with fear. “Because if your little boyfriend touches you after you just said you were mine,” he placed a delicate kiss to your lips that you couldn’t muster to reciprocate, too scared to do so, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He laughed. 

-

A minute and eight seconds. 

Braun Peterson had leaned the weight of his body against the counter, letting the low hum of the buzzing microwave lull his mind to ease, as the fingers of his hand shoved against his eye to wake from the tiredness of the morning day. It hadn’t been until the slap of a heavy hand against his bare shoulder jolted his eyes open to see his cousin slugging his socked feet against the linoleum tiles, before scratching the floor with the chair legs to have a seat at the kitchen table.

Mason had yawned, stretching his jaw from the bitter soreness of having to deal with a restless night of grinding his teeth. “Where’s the missus?” His nails scratched over his stubble. “Sleepin’ in?” Given your gratitude for a place to stay, Mason had spent the few days of your presence waking up to a full breakfast of all the fixins, differing greatly to the two-minute microwave food the young welder had to succumb to for his poor skills behind the stove. 

The morning had changed with the sight of Braun in front of the buzzing appliance. “Out, actually.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, couple days ago,” Braun cleared his dry throat, “she met Cheryl- you remember Cheryl?” Not exactly someone from Mason's graduating class, but given Hawkins’ small breadth of streets, a distant young face of hormonal acne and blue eyeshadow was all that could be pulled from his string of memories, as Cheryl Daniels still sported that purity ring that had long gone been switched out for an engagement ring to her military fiance, whom she could relish his fat benefits with. So, Mason simply nodded to get the story along. “Anyway, yeah, Y/N met her, and, well, you know how women are; one giddy introduction, next thing y’know they’re doing 9:00 a.m pilates and leavin’ me behind to eat some shit food for breakfast.”

Mason peered at the counter to see the empty box of his frozen food. “You asshole, ‘s that my last Hot Pocket?” His mundane voice spoke, too tired to hold any real malice behind it. 

“I’ll head to the store and buy you a whole new pack, relax.” 

Braun Peterson steadily watched the last couple of seconds tick down. “If anything, man, I deserve that one after you and Y/N kept me up last night.” Mason breathily chuckled. 

“Ah, sorry,” Braun stretched his arms, “Y’know Eddie came over, we watched a movie, didn’t realize it was so loud- which if you want any advice, don’t watch Labyrinth high, unless you wanna have a total freak out.”

“Not talking about that.” Mason shook his head with a laugh. “But, aye, next time you bring Munson around and make my basement reek of weed, the least you could do is save me some.”

But Braun’s eyebrows had stayed scrunched with concern to ever consider his cousin’s future word of advice. “The hell are you talking about then?” He curiously poked. 

“You and Y/N.” Mason emphasized with a sly smirk to tease. “I mean, you guys are usually pretty considerate, but I guess the weed really got to y’all or somthing, man, you two were fucking loud last night- and I mean that literally.” He laughed. “Would’ve taken her as a quiet girl.”

Braun Peterson blinked. You had went straight to bed last night after the movie. In fact, you heavily implored him to do the same, after swifty prompting Eddie out of the door when the credit scenes rolled. “Y/N and I- we didn’t… no, we didn’t-”

The microwave beeped.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #mean!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

[nouearth]

the black cat and the mysterious nightwing.

pairing ; dick grayson x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, nightwing. word count ; 2148. genre; angst. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; blood, depictions of violence, bone-breaking, head trauma, physical fighting, verbal arguing, flirty banter, blackcat!malereader. notes ; i tried my best doing a blackcat!reader. i gotta admit, i don't know much about the character, so i just did my own little spin on it! req ; anonymous.

“don’t you think,” you scrambled to your feet, but caught yourself with a lunge before picking your hands out of the dust to charge at your opponent with vigorous speed. the sensor in your gloves triggered your metal claws to come out and you attacked with the intent to mark the masked man—not to wound, but to warn him off. “we would make a great couple? i’d happily sell my persona if it meant that ‘the black cat and the mysterious nightwing’ gets turned into a film and made billions at the box office.”

“you know,” nightwing blocked every swipe of your claws except for one to the face—a nick. the fresh cut on his cheek stung when it caught the cold breeze, but he’s too quick on his feet for you to notice the blood. he then circled around you with his escrima sticks drawn out, huffing. like your opponent, you followed back in his steps in defense, facing him as your senses were on high-alert from the advent of his signature weapons. the last time you were tased with them, you were sent to the ground, feeling tremors days later—they weren’t exactly the highlight of your interactions with him. “i’m the one bringing the audience in, right? flip the order of our names and it’s a maybe!”

“and haven’t i told you that i’m taken?” he continued, stalking you in a circle like a predator with its prey—an eagle with its cat.

“huh...” you thought to yourself out loud, eyeing the rooftop environment around you for a brief moment. cardboard boxes, plastic bags, cigarette butts, candy wrappers—nothing you could use to your advantage. “never thought you’d be the loyal type.”

“what?! you’re kidding, right?” nightwing interrupted the banter by charging at you again and you leaped to the side to dodge the first, but your back eventually caught the stick when he swung his right arm. he hopped back in defense, watching you gather yourself in a hunch, groaning.

“I mean, fuck-“ you tasted the wind that was knocked out of you, chapped and dry, and it all made the taste of metal more profound in your mouth. “with that body? no way. i can only imagine what’s underneath.”

“I’m flattered!” as he rushed towards you, nightwing swung a powerful right, a heavy grunt paired alongside. you evaded with a flip and another with an arm-block, but the impact knocked you back onto the concrete floor. your padded uniform took the brunt of the contact, but not your exhaustion. you were almost at your limit, panting and grunting heavily as you continued to dodge his onslaught of thwicks and whams at your chest and sides, beat after beat to the best of your ability. he was fast, always been faster than you, and he showed no signs of slowing.

“you have no reason even stealing from bruce wayne. come on,” the man meandered towards you, arrogance in every step while he stretched the tight muscles in his arms and back. “give it up. i won’t tell him, and i’ll even get you off scot-free.”

“you’re too handsome for me to send you to jail.” he said, half-earnestly.

despite assuming full responsibility of blüdhaven, and occasionally, gotham, his personality never diverged from his regular civilian-self: confident, playful, optimistic, and much more, but that was what you loved most about dick grayson. he was always himself.

you watched him slowly approach, elbows scuffed and planted to the ground as it supported your bruised body. he lent a hand down to you—gentlemanly. 

“hm… so you do find me handsome.” you grasped his hand and he began to pull you up, naive and trusting. “i got a chance then?” 

but you pulled him downwards instead, met your foot with his gut, and one strong kick tumbled him to the floor. “i’m still up for you getting me off, though!”

the distance between the two of you was larger than expected. he was going to chase after you no matter what—he’s done it before. the mental clock inside of your head was ticking as you watched him writhe, catching his breath. worry ignited, but it ticked— continue ticking until he found his footing, and you made a run for the ledge. your thrown backpack that harbored the stolen item resided in the nearest corner and your arm extended, reaching whatever you could grasp onto in midst of your flee.

but your palm held nothing—only cold warmth when you gathered air into a tight fist—as nightwing rammed you onto the floor with all of his body weight, skidding you near the ledge. your head hung off the edge as you blindly bore his swings to your hips and waist with a groan louder than the next, a bruise stacked on top of another. “fuck!”

the familiarity of gotham became foreign as half of your body dangled off the ledge—apartment buildings emerged from skies and the moon rose from seas—and it didn’t help that your opponent was weakening you with every guttural punch, drawing out hard groans from your throat.

“one last chance, cat. this has been fun and all, but i’m kind of getting sick of your schtick.” nightwing grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you back up.

but something in the wind caught your eye—something black, something familiar. you turned your head, groaning when the muscles in your neck have stiffened in the mere moments it vacationed on the ledge, and a gasped left your hot throat.

your mask. 

“is that a yes?!” dick shouted, hands still clutched onto your shoulders while your cheek was still turned toward him, watching the mask ride the wind through gotham.

the air cooled your exposed skin, bruises and cuts melting with every breeze, and you were hesitant to turn, to respond. but dick was frustrated now and began pressing a knee to your bruised gut to warrant a glance of any kind—he can tell you were close to surrendering. 

you do.

you bit back a pained scream and turned towards him; nightwing, dick, your boyfriend of two years. the frustration and annoyance in his face soon wrinkled into shock, confusion, then betrayal.

but he feigned normalcy; you could tell by the waver in his voice and the twisting of expressions between artificial calmness and deception.

“what- what is this?” he stepped back once he let you go, lying. “you’re just a regular dude-“

“i can explain,“ you coughed out, blinking the etched image of dick’s betrayal away—a desperate attempt. there was no lying your way out of this anymore. years of being untruthful regarding the wounds he unknowingly left on you, nights you disappeared into; it has all accumulated into this very moment—karma. “dick-“

“no-“ dick twitched at the sound of his name. it resounded from a familiar voice—a voice that he would yearn to hear every morning and night, a voice that he has loved since day one, a voice that wouldn’t have held secrets. “you knew? you fucking knew about me—about all of this the whole time?! what the fuck, y/n?”

“dick, I never meant for it to get this far.” you said, getting up with sluggish movements. “i was just- fuck, uh.” you stammered and your thoughts clouded. 

what were you doing this for? it started off with wanting vengeance for your mother, then it amassed into wealth, then… then? 

what else was there left in this second life of yours that you needed to fulfill?

“seriously? cat got your tongue, or what?” he walked towards you, pointing one of his sticks at you, intimidating. “you can’t even give me a reason?”

“calm down, okay? i can’t exactly think when you probably broke my fucking ribs-“ you spat bitterly. not the best time to be annoyed at him, but you’ve always been quick to anger.

“wow, okay… maybe, i don’t know—if you would’ve told me about all of this earlier then we wouldn’t be in this position right now!“ dick’s powerful voice shouted, and you flinched when he pressed his weapon to your chest.

“okay- why are you even angry about this? it’s not like i robbed you!” you shouted back, leaning your chest forward until the butt of it pressed into your bruise. it was painful, but your jaw tightened to hold your anger.

“you kinda did considering it’s from the manor i grew up in.“ he scoffed, irritating you further with multiple pokes to your chest. “you lied to me, stole from my family. you seriously think that’s okay? after everything i told you?”

you didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. though it was only a coincidence that you and dick happened to fall in love; you kept this charade up and toyed with his alter-ego despite knowing who he was. stealing from a billionaire sounded great on paper—if only you never knew dick grayson, but his alias instead.

“I trusted you.” his voice softened—hurt and disappointed—as he stared into your eyes, and you could feel guilt swimming in your gut. “i don’t even know if this is all real—us, y/n.”

but you’ve never been one to face the consequences of your own action.

“here,” you limped to fetch your backpack, and dick instinctively followed you in case you were to escape again. “take it.” you handed a jewelry box to dick. the valuable wasn’t worth it anymore, even if it meant it would make you a millionaire. right now, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep your injuries off.

maybe even rethink your purpose on earth.

“so, just like that?” dick’s voice began to hollow as you walked away from him, nearing the ledge. “no apologies? not even going to look at me?”

“that’s the plan.” you muttered to yourself defeated, strapping yourself to your backpack, and before dick could say another word, parachuted yourself into the night. “always the plan.”

that was all you could think about as you writhed on the ground, dazed from the multiple beatings to your head and body. 

it was a burglary gone wrong. since you’ve last seen dick, you became sloppy. heists were done with aimless drive; not for your own gain, but out of pure spite because you’ve lost the best thing you had in your life, all because you were stubborn—a coward. 

stubbornness has done nothing but led you into a downward spiral of life, and now, you were at its very last step. you thought you broke that spiral by giving back to the community—donating to charities that you were passionate about, that needed the wealth that you profited off the most. 

but instead, you envisioned yourself banging on heaven’s door, gasping and screaming in pain as you begged.

a wheeze was knocked out of you once more when you took another crowbar to the gut. the taste of metal in your mouth became your comfort—you weren’t dead yet. close—soon.

you moved, but barely, crawling to a void you were sure you’d be left dead at, with nobody to witness the final breath you would draw. it was an amusing image for the henchmen. the trauma to your head muffled the demonic laughter of the predator, but it induced another cycle of ringing in your ears—you whimpered. you could feel yourself breaking into tears at any moment—if you even had the strength to. 

when the henchmen pushed his heel onto your broken hand—hard—you knew it was over. excruciating pain sent your body into tremors and you halted to break out into a cowardly sob.

your begs for him to stop fell on empty ears and he only dug deeper, until you could both hear a snap—a wail. 

heaviness slowly fell on your eyelids and you became numb, lolling your head to the side for comfort as a sudden relief on your hands and body washed over you. pain throbbed in silence, soft whimpers like yours, and it would become your lullaby as you mindlessly watched—half-lidded—a shadow in pursuit of vengeance. it was a recognizable thrill upon memorizing the swing of his arms, the dance of his feet as it dodged, flipping and twirling, until it was victorious.

you expected a warrior, running to you with triumph, present to reclaim its prize. but instead, you were met with panic, heavy anxiety as you were lifted off the ground and immediately cradled into a pair of familiar strong arms. 

“you’re okay,” dick was disturbed, anxious in every motion of his hand, but he mustered the courage to gather you close, sprinting far from your death bed. you could only respond in hums, weakly curling into the warmth you longed for as the breeze cooled your injuries.

“you’re going to be okay.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.dc #✰ : nou.dickgrayson #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x m!reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x m!reader #nightwing x male reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x reader #male reader #x male reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc imagine #dc x male reader #dc x reader #x you #male reader insert #x reader #nightwing angst #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fic #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #nightwing

[itiswormtimebaby]

Pairing: Dark Mafia!Bucky x fem reader CW: DARK. dom Bucky, sub reader, not safe or sane, slut shaming, degradation, implied violence (against omc), boot stuff/licking, dubcon (to be safe), implied voyeurism

“You let him in my pussy?” 

Prostrated in front of him you don’t dare lift your head from its position- forehead pressed into the cold concrete floor between your spread arms. Bucky circles around behind your prone form, kicking your legs further wide, knees skittering painfully across the rough surface. “Answer me.” His voice is as lethal as the gun on his hip.

“N-no.” Your voice is weak in the presence of his ire, any good time feeling you’d had earlier in the night has gone cold, as cold as the arousal drying on your puffy lower lips. An undignified yelp escapes you unbidden as the toe of one of his expensive leather boots settles against your cunt, swiping across it before he moves to stand in front of you. At his command you lift your head up, allowing him to slide the offending object into your line of vision, your slick marring its otherwise pristine polish; “Then why are you so god-damn wet?” You shake your head weakly, knowing there was no correct answer, he wouldn’t believe a placating lie no matter how sweetly delivered and the truth would only- 

“Clean it up.” Tearfully you begin to kitten lick across the soiled surface, ashamed at the fresh wave of arousal that the action insights within you, knowing any seconds you’d be leaking all over the floor. You vaguely wonder with a filthy thrill if he’d have you clean that as well. He doesn’t speak again until he is satisfied with your work; “Assume the position.” Like a puppet on a string your body jerks into place, legs folding under you until you are on your knees, bare ass cheeks pressed into the heels of your feet, hands limp against your thighs, neck bent. 

“Don’t make me ask again. Speak.”

“He…he touched me.” 

A fresh wave of slick gushes from your neglected opening as you revel in the fear, the shame, the desperate desire that being pinned under Bucky’s gaze is causing you.

“He got you wet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“He touched my pussy?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“How many fingers?” 

“SIR!”

Bucky scowls at your tone, at your audacity, he gives you everything and you think he’d be okay with you going on dates? On letting someone besides him touch you? 

“Fine,” He grits out between clenched teeth, “You don’t want to tell me?” 

The room is deathly quiet aside from soft schlick of your thighs rubbing together, you can’t tell what he’s doing and won’t risk looking around to try and figure it out. It doesn’t matter, the answer becomes clear soon enough. “Steve?” The muffled voice of his right hand man alerts you to the fact that he’s on the phone, “Break all ten.” 

Fingers, you realize, he’s talking about your dates fingers. 

“Then bring him in.” 

Terror, arousal, shame, regret- it burst forth from your body in the form of tears.

Bucky crouches down so your eye level, calloused fingers gathering the salty droplets and sucking them into your mouth; “You want to act like a whore, Doll? Then I’ll fuck you like one. That sorry son of a bitch is going to see exactly who owns this pussy, and if you ever so much as breathe in his direction again I won’t just break his fingers, I’ll take both fucking hands.”

#dark bucky barnes #dark mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

[ja3hwa]

So random thought right...

But i can't help but think about a witch x vampire trope where the reader is some kind of witch or fae or something magical, and Mingi (@atinystraynstay gave me the idea to make it for Min hehe.) is a 400+ year ish old vampire.

To set the scene... Imagine you are this young creature just wanting a fresh start in a new town far from your coven/clan since you were banished as an outsider for having beliefs that all creatures no matter their species, should be deemed as equal.

So here you are, putting down your deposit for this abandoned manor that no one seemed to want since people had said it was haunted, people died in there blah blah. You didn't care. It was the most beautiful thing you had laid your eyes on, and it felt like you needed to be there...

You had to have it.

Once inside your newly purchased home, you found yourself wandering the halls and rooms to find any hidden gems and secrets. Unbeknownst to you, there was a basement, hiding a dark sinister truth.

A few months passed, and you've finally gotten comfortable in the home, having not even noticed the basement. Until on faithful night while you slept, you swore you could hear humming, like someone or something was tugging you awake.

Like a silent song, beckoning you to find the holder.

You manage to find a sealed entrance, covered in ruins, chains, thick wooden boards, and writing that says turn back. Do not enter.

Death lies within

Of course, you just laugh. After all, what could possibly be so dangerous? Humans were such fragile and scared little things. It was more likely to be some spell casters chambers or some orc's dungeon. Nothing you couldn't handle.

So you casted a spell, unlocking the dark tomb. What you didn't expect is to find a coffin in the centre of an eerie empty room. It was chained and had scribbles of ruins and sigals on it.

Typical witches, you thought, afraid of anything that they can't control.

You opened the coffin, removing the spells casted on it slowly, trying your best not to set off any of them. And once the lid was opened, you were faced with a gorgeous eternal looking male. His skin like porcelain, hair like silk. He was the most handsomest creature you've ever laid eyes on.

Something in your soul was calling out for you to wake him. Gift him blood so he could return to the waking world.

So you did.

Slicing your wrist, you angeled your arm aboved his slightly agaped dried out mouth. Feeding in slow droplets of blood. At first, you think your blood did nothing. But then, without another thought, your body moved quicker than lightning. Your back being slammed against the nearest wall, in a blur. Your eyes try to focus on the being in front of you, one hand holding you tightly by the waist, while another held the back of your neck. Trapping you against the concrete.

You've never felt such a painful pleasure like the one that is piercing your jugular. Two pointed teeth sinking deepering in your skin, drawing blood from your main artery, making your head dizzy.

He fed on you. Stealing slow, big gulps of your rich, thick blood. You feel a tingle in your core, something stirring in your entire system and without another whimper escaping your throat. You cilmaxed from the intense amount of power surging through your veins. Like everything in your life suddenly made sense.

And once you'd calmed down, he would finally pull away, licking your wound shut and cleaning any spilt blood he could get to before whispering softly in your ear;

"My beloved. My mate..."

-

Anyways I'll go back to being on my hiatus. Hehe. ✌️

#ateez #atz smut #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez scenario #ateez fanfiction #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #ateez fic #atz reactions #atz fluff #atz drabbles #atz hard hours #atz imagines #atz scenarios #atz x reader #atz fanfic #ateez mingi #ateez vampire au #vampire!ateez #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi

[publicenemy212]

Filthy (Lute x fem!sub!reader)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, descriptions of violence, fingering, gagging, choking, knifeplay, degradation, sadomasochism dynamics

crossposted from AO3 under public_enemy_212. requests open for any hellaverse wlw pairings or f!reader

word count: 1280

NSFW under the cut

“You disgust me.”

The angel’s voice hissed, mere inches away from my ear. I groaned in response, my lips sticky and wet with my own blood. Her gloved hand grasped my hair with enough force to make me feel like my scalp was ripping off. Perhaps, at that point, that was the only thing keeping my eyes open. Without warning, she threw my face towards the pebbled alleyway ground.

My skull cracked on impact. The world faded to nothing, but only for a moment. Curse my new body and its resilience.

Sharp pain exploded in my chest as the exorcist sent a flying kick directly at my chest. I whimpered in agony and helplessness.

“Aww, does that hurt?” she purred mockingly. “The little sinner’s regretting her choices now?”

With effort, I painstakingly lifted my head off the filth-stained dirt to face the angel. All I could see was a blur of white and gray against the dark red background of Pentagram City. Extermination Day was almost over. I just had to survive until then.

I opened my mouth to speak and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Fresh blood splattered out, painting the concrete crimson. Hacking and spluttering for another minute, I forced out my words.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

I heaved again. Fuck. The angel clicked her tongue impatiently as she stood with arms crossed, watching me vomit up more internal bleeding.

So much pain. So much pain. Hurts. Everything hurts.

I fell over onto my side again, groaning and panting for air.

“Are you done?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re wasting your time with me…” I rasp weakly. 

If pleading for my life wouldn’t work, I might as well try sucking up to her ego.

I prayed to God, Satan, whoever would listen; if only the exterminator would just move on to find other victims and leave me alone.

To my dismay, she only began to laugh.

Despair washed over my broken body. Was there no end to this torture?

“Wasting my time? No, no. I’ve already killed my fair share of your filthy kind. Now, it’s my turn to have a bit more fun by making you suffer slowly before I eventually kill you too.”

A sob bubbled out of my bloodied throat. I crumbled to the ground once more.

“Lute. Remember this name. It’s the last thing you’ll hear before you die.”

Something flipped inside me as all the pain and terror suddenly turned into indignancy and rage. Gritting my teeth, I summoned all my willpower to drag myself up. Glaring, I snarled, “You call yourself an angel? After making thousands of souls suffer and die a second death, as if dying once wasn’t enough?”

“It’s what you sinners deserve.” Lute brandished her sword, as if challenging me to take another step forward.

I was walking into a certain death, that I was sure of. But she was going to kill me regardless; why not try to fight back?

Claws out, I lunged forward unsteadily. In response, the angel flew forward at an inhuman speed and chokeslammed me directly into a wall. I scrabbled helplessly at her grip.

Lute roared with sadistic laughter.

Leaning closer, she whispered, “Can’t speak? Devil got your tongue?”

Fighting my survival instincts, I let go of her fingers around my neck…

…and sent my fist flying towards her face.

The blow landed squarely, shattering the glass of the exorcist mask.

“FUCK!” Lute screamed in shock. The surprise loosened her grip, allowing me to breathe only slightly more easily for a second. She ripped off the broken helmet with one hand and tossed it aside, using the same hand to punch me in the jaw.

I grinned at her distress. So it was possible to get under these exorcist angels’ skin. I decided, for my own cynical entertainment, to take it a step further.

“There is no way you don’t get off to this,” I croaked.

Lute growled in frustration. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Her eyes flicked to the entryway of the dingy alley. No one was watching. The only sounds were the occasional distant screaming and the sound of my pained moaning and wheezing.

Her golden eyes slid back to the demon under her control, narrowing as she gritted her teeth.

She leaned in and kissed me with a fervor reminiscent of a starved animal. Her hand slackened again, her body pressing against mine. My blood smeared on her soldier’s uniform, mixing with the various splatters of her other, unluckier victims from earlier in the day. When we finally broke, gasping for air, Lute let go of my neck and stepped back. She drew her saber once more and pressed it against my bruised throat.

I whimpered and pressed my legs together, desperate to relieve the growing need between my thighs.

Lute was absolutely taken aback and scowled in disgust at my reaction.

“ Filthy. ”

Yet, against her own venom-laced words, her other hand slid down my body. 

“ Worthless .”

Two fingers pressed against my cunt.

My eyes screwed shut. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. Pain from my injuries mixed with lust and pleasure at the angel’s ghosting touch. Oh, agony. Pure, sweet agony.

“...Are you serious? Does beat within an inch of your life turn you on that much?”

With that, she shoved her fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the sudden intrusion while she continued to finger-fuck my mouth with no breaks, generously coating her hand with my saliva and blood. Once she was satisfied, she drew her hand out and slapped me so hard my eyeballs shook in my skull. I moaned loudly and Lute immediately smacked her palm back over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before somebody finds us.” She hissed dangerously.

Once she was sure no other angels were coming, she sighed and returned her attention to me. Lute ripped off a chunk of my tattered clothes and shoved it in my mouth as a makeshift gag. 

Her hand then returned to my pants, sliding beneath the fabric and between my slick folds. She wasted no time in dipping right into my hole, using three fingers immediately without giving me any time to adjust. I yelped in pain, but the gag muffled any words I had. Lute grinned and leaned directly next to my ear.

“What’s the problem? It hurts? This is your punishment for going against Heaven, so you better fucking take it.”

Drool and tears collected at my chin, mixing together before dripping to the ground. My body threatened to lose consciousness with each brutal thrust. My head fell forward and landed on Lute’s armored shoulder as I continued to babble incoherently, the exorcist pushing me for orgasm after orgasm with no mercy. Only after I finally passed out from the sheer exhaustion of hours of getting fucked up and being straight up fucked did she pull out and toss my limp body aside.

Much to my disappointment, I woke up again to Lute kicking me repeatedly.

“Hey. Get up.”

Her boot pushed my head face-up to check if I was conscious. I stared at her, bleary-eyed. “You’re still alive? Huh. That works for me. I want you to watch me kill you.”

A flash of light. Warm liquid started gushing out of my chest. I looked down slowly to see the divine metal sunken halfway through my chest. Lute then yanked her blade out effortlessly and walked away without a word, leaving me to bleed out in a pool of my blood and cum.

The siren signaling the end of this year’s Extermination Day was the last thing I heard before eternal darkness swallowed me whole.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hellaverse #lute smut #hazbin hotel smut

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #2

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. distraction by kehlani ♫

palestinians still need e-sims!!! click the link to figure out how you can donate.

The overly generous housewife commissioned me another large project, to which I simply could not decline. Summertime is when business is the best and she just became my second client in this particular neighborhood. It was a carbon copy of the nearby cities split by four-way stops and freeways. The demands were never unique or fresh, causing me a great deal of creative fatigue when I had to order identical materials from my supplier. I pressed the half-empty bottle of frosty Sam Adams against my neck, soothing the battering I received from the sun this afternoon. There was a cacophony of Casio watch alarms indicating that lunch was over. All my workers were so ecstatic to finish up today’s task and celebrated with loud audible sighs.

“Men can be such pigs,” I whispered, consolidating their empty glasses sticky with sugar. 

“Men and children,” She adds, catching me off guard. 

I smile over to her blankly, having very little experience with either. 

“Yes, my little one over there used to be a slobbering mess.” 

I glance over my shoulder to see her daughter sucking on a lemon wedge. Her dark pink lips are tacky with citrus and teeth white against the sunny flesh shedding onto her mouth’s crevasses. I trace the thin maroon-shaded line on the outside of her lips. I find my tongue gliding over my own, thinking of how the lemon would taste between us both. Her eyes jut open once she realizes I am looking at her, eyelashes feathery and light under the sun. Then she just stares at the ground, scraping the sole of her worn Converse against the driveway pavement, attempting to conceal her smile. 

“Have any?” She asks. 

“Any kids? Ah, no. I don’t.” 

She invites me into her home with my hands full of expensive glassware. She screams out to her daughter to bring in the remaining to which she obliges silently, the wedge now dry between her teeth. I wait before walking through the mysterious door and let her guide me — once again with no words. I watched her hips wobble, compressed in spandex, as she walked in front of me. Blinking myself out of the curve of her behind, I stepped up the concrete steps into the kitchen area. Once the daughter placed the glasses on the granite island, she discarded her lemon by spitting it directly into the bin, before lifting the cups out of my hands. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I hummed naturally. 

“So we’re good for a consultation tomorrow Abigail?” 

I stalked the daughter's movements as she traveled to the dishwasher on the other side of the kitchen. She hunched over to load the dishwasher, ass drawing me back in as she bent down into a squat to adjust something on the rack. 

“Abigail?” Her mother probed. 

“Yes, ma’am, sorry I was just going through my schedule in my mind.” I laughed nervously. 

“Don’t you have an assistant for all that stuff?” 

“No ma’am, not yet. But we’re good for a consultation at 7:00 am?” 

“Yes, my husband will be here and it’ll be a nice affair. Darling, why don’t you give Abigail all of our numbers. It will be necessary once she starts coming by regularly to fix your bathroom and the deck.” 

Her daughter bounced on her heels and closed the washer, turning to me, worrying her lip in her mouth. She looked between her mother and me, confused at the declaration of plans.

“I didn’t know… uh… renovations to my bathroom, okay.” She said.

“You’ve been complaining about it, so we’re getting it fixed, see Abigail out.” 

She wipes her hands on her shorts and leaves wet smears on the material, the handprints incasing her plump thighs. The girl guides me back to the entrance we came in, her mother wishing me farewell as I step out of the kitchen and back into the garage. I turn to her, still perched on the top of the concrete step, her breasts now eye-level. They glimmer like diamonds just before I tilt my head back and meet her reticent eyes. She holds out her hand, palm upward, demanding something. 

“Phone?” She says. 

“Oh right, uh I think I left it in the truck,” I say patting my pockets. “Why don’t you just take mine down?” 

She removes her phone from her waistband and opens the contact page allowing me to type in my information. I look up at her and she nods at my name on the screen. I huff and start strutting out of the wide garage door. Just as my boot touches the line between the shaded concrete of the garage and driveway, I hear her sweet voice shimmer. “See ya, Ms. Anderson.” 

“Bye.” I wave as the heat from outside embraces me and a collection of warmth bottles inside of me from hearing my name so velvety on her lips. 

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

My neck and forehead were drenched as I rolled over to throw my legs over the couch. The tightness in my lower back that could only be saved by major corrective massaging was throbbing violently. My body stiffened from using this old couch as my bed again, the third time this week. My actual bedroom was a few steps away from the front door but I never make it there. Under my left leg was another thriller book whose name is now obsolete and could explain why I was sweaty and anxious throughout the night. I thumbed the pages and set them on the massive pile of manila folders that accumulated on the coffee table. I put my finger under my glasses and rubbed my eyes clear. What a mess my house has become. The sun wasn’t even up yet and I question why I still do any of this. This a question I ask myself every day actually. I touch the screen of my phone that I forgot to put on charge last night, again, and see all the notifications accumulated after 7:00 pm. 

Payments due, meetings, consultations, etc., are all semi-organized in a calendar system I have yet to perfect.

11:00 PM: See you in the morning, Ms. Anderson :) 

I felt my mouth open slightly. I was pathetic, smiling at a simple text. How long had it been since a notification on my phone was from a woman? I opened the message to type but it’s far too late to reply… right? I liked the message, saved her number as the address, and placed my phone down on the counter. I picked up my tube of toothpaste and noticed how thin it became. I will need to run to the store after work today, another thing to add to the list of shit I didn’t want to do. I used all my might to pop out the last bulb of paste. 

Today was supposed to be an easy day, do the consultation, and oversee the the porch while I put up ads for an assistant I desperately needed. After slicking my hair I walked back into the living room where piles of paperwork overwhelmed the space. I needed an assistant and quickly if I was going to continue to expand my business. 

Two cups of black coffee today as I discovered my creamer was congealed and rotten beyond belief. Another thing I need to do is go grocery shopping. I searched for my keys under the folders stacked on my coffee table. It was already 6:30 a.m. and by my standards, I was running late. Once every piece of paper was misplaced and out of order, I recalled my keys' presence on the loop of my cargos. I pressed my head against my seat and let out a sigh before turning on my truck and an audiobook, A Certain Hunger. Another fucking day. 

My truck hummed as I parked on the street in front of the plain light blue house. I winced at my final sip of bitter caffeine while pulling the keys out of the ignition and attaching them to my belt loop. I dig in my back seat for my work bag and drag it with me to the front door. After I knocked, a man of my height opened the door to welcome me in. 

“Abigail,” He said unamused by my presence. 

“Good morning,” I replied. 

“So, this deck came with the house and it’s very outdated and my wife would like to…” 

His voice faded into a tornado of my own thoughts. It was usually the same customers, who had a ten-year-old porch or deck, wanted it to look modern and have the money to waste on it. I shouldn’t complain because I'm willing to take what they’re willing to cough up. 

“Let me show you the bathroom we want to redo.” 

I followed him up the hardwood steps that opened into a mezzanine that split into three directions. One I assumed was a bathroom, a master suite, and a baby pink painted door with a crown-shaped sign that said: ‘The Princess’ Room'. I found myself cracking a smile. He knocked on the door before entering, to which his restless daughter opened her eyes and pulled the duvet over her chest.

“Dad.” She groaned, catching a glimpse of me just before retreating completely under the blanket. 

The view I caught of her face was soft and her lips were perfectly swollen to take into my mouth. I clear my throat and push the thought down just before nearly tripping over one of the many boxes cascading around the room. The bathroom was bright with shades of pink I had never seen before. 

“We just want something black, gold, something mature for the college grad.” He tried to smile but shrugged as if his wife told him to say those exact words. 

“Great, I can draft something up and give you a quote.” 

“Nice, I do have to run, my rude daughter will see you out.” 

His hand briefly gripped my shoulder as he walked past me. I looked over to the bed and placed my thumbs into my belt loops as she peeked from the covers. Her bare shoulders indicated that she was in no position to walk me out. I followed the deep line of her collarbone and blinked heavily. I swallowed as my cheeks became flushed and marched out of the room before finding my way back into my truck in a blur. I placed my hand on my chest and imagined my skin was hers. How it would feel under my hands after a long day and possibly how she would feel on mine too. There was a deeper ache in me that needed to be satisfied. The safety of knowing my body belonged to someone else would soothe my mind. I would finally get some release if— 

A knock on my window jolted me back into reality. She was standing on the other side of the glass with her hand above her eyebrows trying to shield herself from the early morning sun. Her body is now covered in an all-white cotton sleepwear set that was hastily thrown on. I linger on the movement of her breasts and the outline of her hips as her hand gently catapults the most delicate parts of her body into a wave. The fabric held no regard for a woman’s eye like mine. The silhouette of her dark nipples and sloping v-line at the waistband of her flowing shorts pulled at a string that hadn’t been yanked in a long time. I felt a thrum deep below my belt. I turn the key to roll the window and she smiles slightly, lips slathered in a pinkish gloss that caught my attention immediately. 

“Hi,” She mutters. 

“Morning.” I reply. 

“Um, sorry I wasn’t—”  

“You’re good. So, Princess?” 

I regretted saying it until her smile grew into a chuckling laughter that echoed down the silent street. I grinned with her as her skin glistened from the pure sunlight, uninterrupted of any lingering elements. 

“To be fair, we’ve lived in this house forever.” She adds. 

“Uh-huh, well, no worries all that pink will be gone.” I glance down to her mouth and she retracts her lips to make them vibrate with a pop. 

“In a way, I’ll miss it but it's time for something new.” 

Those words hung in my mind and the cadence in which said it, implying something more than just new tiles and a coat of white paint. 

“Right, have a nice day,” I say. 

“Oh and Abby,” She adds, leaning into the window with her perfect fingers on the windowsill. “Can you tell me when you’re coming so I can at least be dressed?” 

Before I could get a word in she was already heading back through the front door of her house. 

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

I sat on the sidewalk with my laptop and lawn chair, writing out a description for an assistant. I had been so used to doing everything on my own when I started but now I need to switch my methods before I can’t do it anymore. The team was getting along well with the porch and we were almost done, one week in advance, but I can’t count too much on their loud mouths to stay on task. It felt nice to sit in the sun and give my body a rest, I needed more of this. But now I was just staring at the cursor on the screen wondering what I needed an assistant to do.

As a woman who owns her own company…

(DELETE) 

I am looking for someone who is …

(DELETE) 

In need of an Administrative Assistant who can help with my everyday business needs. This includes filing records, sending invoices to clients, being the main contact for clients, and other tasks as assigned. If you are applying, provide a resume listing previous experience relevant to this job. Set hours of 30 per week may include, working in an office, on the job site, and traveling with me. Pay starts at $19.00 per hour. Please send your interest to [email protected]. Thank you. 

I triple-checked my grammar to ensure there were no errors and posted it to all the job-hiring websites I could think of. I exhaled knowing the mess of my life would soon become organized with the assistance of someone more qualified than me to sort it out. I close my warm laptop walk around to the driver's seat and place it into my bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone watching me from the sidewalk. 

As I lift my gaze I notice my stalker. She walks over to me, fully dressed in bright yellow athleisure and a smile. “I realized something.” She says, hands on the fat of her hips. I pause as I notice the contrast of the sunflower yellow against her skin. If I didn't know, I would mistaken her for the sun.

“And that is?” 

“You told my dad you were going to mock-up something but never got what I wanted it to be. Doesn’t there have to be a meeting of some sort so you know what style I like?” 

“I thought your style was black and gold?” 

She stood just a foot away from me and I cast her body in my shadow, relieving her from the sun. I hovered over her but if she only knew how yielding I felt around her this persona would vanish.

“It is but I want to have some say in the creative process.” She tilts her head, milking me for every ounce of consideration.

“Of course. So, a design meeting?” 

I cross my arms and not in a subtle way. It wasn’t an intentional distraction, just a habit. 

“Yes.” She said, holding her eye contact with me. 

“Fine. Cool,” I say and she chuckles. 

A woman my age shouldn’t be saying cool. 

“How does this work then?” 

I open the door and bend over the seat to grab my notebook with pages crumbled and falling out. 

“We schedule a meeting, I doodle a bit, and we come to an agreement. Will cost you extra though, most clients just trust my first design.” I shrug. 

“Oh,” 

“Is that okay with you?” 

“Of course. How does tomorrow sound?” 

“Oh coo— great. Tomorrow at … 3 pm?” I said, avoiding her gaze that has yet to leave my body. 

“I can do that.” 

“You can stop by my office tomorrow then, I will send you the address.” 

#abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #lesbian #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #wlw and nblw only #wlw yearning #lesbian age gap #femme4butch #dyke #abby anderson #abby tlou

[munsonology]

Sweet Plains

A Cowboy!Eddie short story

18+ only, MINORS DNI

CW: Fem!reader, f receiving oral, wind fucking, come tasting, little bit of daddy kink👀 not proof read

Summary: Eddie and Girlie are in the warm fields of the ranch doing morning chores when a different kind of heat creeps upon them.

My first contribution for @oneforthemunny’s summertime writing game.

Posting with 45 minutes left of my birthday!

I’m gonna count this as my first official fic I’ve ever posted on here! Enjoy whores!

Girlie laying in the ranch fields waiting for Eddie to finish morning chores. It’s humid, the air thick and warm like a sweater on a cold December night.

She found the dress in the trunk at the foot of their bed. Bought for wedding and nonrefundable, despite the bride running away on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle.

Eddie paused shoveling the pile of hay to take a gander at you. Your legs up in the air, those sweet thighs tempting him. He was just between them not even a few hours ago. The taste of your folds still fresh on his tongue.

“What’cha doing over there, girlie?” He asks.

You peer around your legs to see Eddie standing there with a hand on his hip. His heavy boot resting on the pitchfork. The buttons on his shirt had long come undone. From the distance you could see the black ink on his chest.

“Just waiting on you to finish, honey.”

“Mmm…Is that right?”

You mumble in agreement. A sigh leaves your mouth feeling a light breeze pass through. The cool wind caressed your skin. Your legs fell open, wide as the open pasture. Bare cunt exposed, you laid back with your arms behind your head.

The crotch of Eddie’s wranglers tightened. He loved seeing you so free, so relaxed. You were a completely different person outside of the city. Monday through Friday you ventured to the concrete jungle for work, battling your way to the cracking the glass ceiling, but out here…out here at the ranch you could just be. No pressure to be anything but yourself.

Eddie squinted his eyes to get a better view of your current position. Skirt of your tulle dress to your waist, legs spread wide, hips moving to a beat all their own.

Eddie took long strides over to stand in front of you. “Well that’s a picture I never seen before.”

You opened an eye to him crouched beside you now. “When the breeze hits just right…it feels so good Ed,” you moan.

He removes the glove on his hand with his teeth. You feel the coarse pads of his fingers spread your cunt open. His index finger rubs with your clit in slow circles.

“Is that so? Mind if I help you out a bit?”

“Do what you must, cowboy,” you sigh.

Eddie takes the hat off his head and covers your face with it. You hear the clinking of his belt buckle come undone. He wraps the belt around your wrists, fusing them together in the thick leather.

“You still with me me, baby?”

“Never left.”

The sound of him hocking a loogie into his hand sends tingles down to your cunt. She’s the greediest bitch you know.

Eddie’s spit feels warm on your folds. Trickling and wrapping around your clit, his two fingers rub you out. Your pubes tickle the skin on his arm as it grazes against you.

“D’ya like that girlie?” He whispers.

“S’good Eddie.”

He pushes three fingers inside you. He curls them slowly, right against your gspot.

“Fuck!”

“Is that what she needed, baby?”

“C’mon Eddie. Please—I can’t hold it. Can I come?”

“‘can I come?’” He mocks you.

At that moment you feel pull away from you. You whine loudly.

“You sound just like Shadow when I don’t give her an extra sugar cube,” he laughs.

“Don’t leave me hanging cowboy!” You plead.

“Don’t worry girlie, I’d never leave her without a special treat.”

You sense his body between your legs, spreading them further apart. His breath is right on your cunt. “I got her medicine right here.”

He takes a long swipe with his tongue up your folds. Your thighs clench around his head. Eddie’s ears and neck grow warm at the embrace. There’s nowhere he’d rather be more, not even on the back of a raging bull.

He kisses your clit then goes in, taking the little button between his lips. He sucks you down like the thickest milkshake.

“Jesus Christ almighty!” You squeal.

Eddie’s fingers slip right into your wet pussy. Four fingers fit easily. Your arms come up around to make a grab for his hair. With your wrists still tied, you grip what you can, pulling hard and tight with every move he makes. Eddie’s fingers bully your gspot relentlessly.

Slick oozes out of you, dripping down Eddie’s chin. “You gon’ come when I tell you to girlie?”

“Yes! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Whatever I want, huh? Whatever Daddy says goes?”

“Yes Daddy!”

“Well c’mon then. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Mmmm, thank you—Fuck—Eddie!”

“That’s it baby,” he moans.

Eddie takes the hat off your face and slides it under you. The fabric of the hat brush against the sensitive skin under your ass.

With a wave of pleasure overtaking you, you come hard, spraying Eddie with your squirt. He angles the crown of his hat to capture your essence. Eddie’s shirt and the grass beneath you is soaked. He continues to work you, fingers pumping ferociously to milk you.

“That’s it, baby. Love when you water the grass,” he says with a smile.

He lifts the hat, tipping the brim to his lips. You watch him drink your come down, a small trickle dripping down his chin. Eddie wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

He leans over you to undo the buckle on the belt. He soothes your wrists, kissing them gently before kissing your lips. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer for a deeper kiss.

“Sweetest morning dew I ever tasted baby,” he says against your pout.

“Are you ready for seconds?”

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x female reader #fem reader #eddie munson fem!reader #munsonology’s eddieverse #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie smut #cowboy!eddie munson x reader #munsonology’s cowboy!eddie #cowboy!eddie and girlie #cowboy!eddie munson #summertime writing game #sweet plains

[bearsintreesofficial]

i feel like a lot of people assume our songs are far more metaphorical than they are. like yes, i really DID have to break out of that party. yes, i really DID have a blade in my hand and a glint in my eye. yes, i really DID shovel fresh concrete into my mouth

[the-broken-pen]

“Do you know,” the vampire hummed in their ear, “how young you look right now?”

The protagonist choked on their gag, eyes glaring up at the vampire.

“Like a lamb to the slaughter,” they continued, trailing a finger through the protagonist’s sweat soaked hair. “Did they tell you what you were getting into?”

No, the protagonist thought, they hadn’t. The agency had needed someone to distract— someone new to the battlefield that the vampire wouldn’t recognize, with their memory as sharp as knives and their penchant for removing displeasing individuals from amongst the living.

And so of course, that meant the protagonist, fresh out of training, newly recruited, the littlest sibling of a sacrificial hero long since revered.

Big shoes to fill.

A solemn and silent grave to impress.

If the protagonist could have, they would have cursed the vampire out, but they supposed that would only make things worse.

Still, being in the room with the murderer of their big brother, the person who had left the hero of the city bleeding out in a place so hidden that by the time the protagonist found them—

Well.

They had a grave to impress.

The vampire caught their chin, tilting their head up.

“Little lamb, you look quite like my favorite enemy. Truly, the resemblance is uncanny,” their hand tightened on the protagonists jaw. “Say, our blessed hero didn’t happen to have a mini me, did they?”

The protagonist’s teeth clenched and they snarled through the gag.

The vampire grinned, delighted.

“Oh, how wonderful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lamb.”

The protagonist simply blinked. The vampire clicked their tongue, as if disappointed. A moment later, the tip of their finger slid across the protagonist’s gag and it disintegrated.

The protagonist spit dust onto the floor, mouth dry with leftover cloth, before baring their teeth at the vampire.

“You piece of undying shit—“

The vampire slide an amused smile their way.

“The mouth on you. Yes, you really do look like them, don’t you? The resemblance is startling.”

“I’ll show you just how startling I can be if you untie these bonds.”

Behind their back, the protagonists fingers were numb. If they tried to punch, they doubted it would be successful. No need for the vampire to know that.

“Such rage for such a young individual. Tell me, little lamb, why do you want me dead?”

The protagonist closed their mouth that had been prepared to spit more venomous words, and swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want you dead—“

“Oh darling,” the vampire waved a hand. “Of course you do. It’s quite villainous of you, but I’m not one to judge morality.”

The protagonist bit the inside of their cheek, examining the edges of the concrete room, if only to avoid meeting the vampires all seeing gaze.

“Is this about your brother?” The vampire guessed casually, like hearing the vampire reference them didn’t stop the protagonist’s heart.

Their stomach clenched.

The vampire’s eyebrows eased in understanding.

“Ah. Well, then. I suppose I understand the sentiment. Nothing I can do about it, however. Bygones, they say.”

The protagonist lurched forward in their chair.

“He isn’t a bygone, he was my brother, and you murdered him—“

The vampire tutted, hand sliding over the protagonists mouth with impossible speed.

“Now, then, don’t say such atrocious things.”

The protagonist bit the inside of the vampires palm, and they raised an eyebrow. Their too cool palm didn’t move, smooth skin resting above the protagonists jaw.

“I did not murder your brother,” the vampire said after a tense moment. The protagonist glared at them.

Of course they had. The protagonist wasn’t stupid, they had seen the injuries on their brother. They had held him, in his final moments, terrified and shaking as their hands tried to cover too many wounds at once.

And then their brother had been dead and their hands had been covered in blood and all the protagonist could think was “It was the vampire.”

The vampire nodded as if they could read the protagonist’s face.

“Some things you are not meant to know,” the vampire murmured. “But I will tell you this—I did not kill your brother.”

They protested against the vampire’s palm, and the hand gripped tighter. For a moment, the protagonist remembered the terrifying strength hidden under that lovely face.

“I understand you are grieving. But I am not responsible for what happened. I am only responsible for what came next.”

They turned confused eyes on the vampire, and the vampire released them, studying the protagonist for a second before striding to the door.

The paused with a hand on the door knob.

“By the way, little lamb. Your brother isn’t alive,” the vampire’s voice rang into the room. “But he is living.”

The door slammed shut.

And the protagonist was left with the horrible realization that maybe when their brother had died, the vampire had done far worse than kill him—maybe the vampire had brought him back.

The protagonist started screaming for the vampire to come back.

Hours later, when they were rescued, the agency asked them what they had learned.

Stonily, faithfully, they looked their supervisor dead in the eye.

And said nothing.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #vampire #hero whumpee #vampire whumper #revenge #whump community #whump writing #heros & villains

[vilevvords]

Next door neighbor Ushijima who, despite his 6 foot 4 glory, is like a ghost. No one has seen him move in, you just noticed the doorbell panel change one day and figured. Always out and about before you are and not yet back when you come home. You’ve been lucky to catch a glimpse of his broad back one day as he left, always hearing the older ladies living in the apartment complex talk about the handsome young man who just moved in.

Who, when you finally met, quite literally took your breath away when you bumped into him as you pushed open the door of the laundry room with your back because you were holding onto the laundry basket, quite sure you just ran into a concrete wall. Who apologized despite it not being his fault and offered to carry your basket, leaving you a flustered mess because the grannies were right.

Who’s apartment is so clean and neat it’s almost sterile, like straight out of a catalog. No cushions on his sofa, no candles on the coffee table, and it seems like he just bought some picture frames and never changed the default pictures, only looking for some color on the wall.

Who goes to the market regularly to buy fresh vegetables and chats with the elderly lady running the stand, asking for recommendations and exchanging recipes with her.

Who always extends his hand, signaling “after you” when you’re both on your way downstairs, letting you go first. Who lingers at the bottom of the stairs for a bit longer when you go up in front of him to bring some space in between you two to avoid making you uncomfortable.

Who always makes sure to greet you when you meet, mumbling “Good morning” in a kind of low grumble and with the corners of his mouth ever so slightly turned up that you feel your face heating up uncontrollably, an odd sense of warmth swarming in your chest.

Who, despite his stoic nature, never fails to pat the dog across the street on the head, no matter the rush he is in, smiling a rare smile so breathtaking when the big Labrador nudges his arm with the top of his head, demanding more pats. Who always makes sure to put dog treats on his shopping list, although he doesn’t own a dog himself.

Who never once misses calling his mother on Sundays, nodding and humming along to the same old “Are you eating well?”, “Remember to change to a warmer duvet” and “Bring an umbrella, I heard the weather is getting worse.”

Who thanks his roomba for the hard work when he comes back home after a long day of practice because he’s appreciative of the help, no matter if it can apprehend his gratitude or not.

From who’s balcony you can always hear the muffled sounds of a volleyball game playing on TV on one of his off-days, occasionally interrupted by a faint, mumbled cheer, because he’s a man of insatiable passion.

Who finds a weird sense of agitation sprouting in his chest when he doesn’t see your car parked in the driveway when he comes home because it’s odd. Who stays up a bit past his usual bedtime that day, lounging in front of the TV and straightening his back every so often to be able to catch a glimpse of the street, uneasiness fading once he sees your car pull up.

Next door neighbor Ushijima who is adorable in his own little glorious, matter-of-fact way. Who shows that he cares with his actions rather than his words because it comes so much easier to him. He owns my heart.

#haikyuu headcanons #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fluff #hq ushijima #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq drabbles #hq headcanons #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #vile drabbles

[shiggybrainr0t]

shouto wakes up trapped underneath a collapsed building, only to find himself also trapped in your embrace.

warnings: both Shouto and reader are hurt pretty badly </3, blood, immediate threat of death lol?, description of a broken leg, mention of vomiting but it doesn’t happen and isn’t explicitly stated, this is cheesy and unedited

border by @cafekitsune :)

dedicated to andie if they happen to see it because I thought of them while writing my very first Shouto fic 💘

Whenever Shouto awakes, it’s to a pounding headache, intense pain throbbing along the right side of his body, flickering lights, and something soft holding him tightly.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, wincing as the flickering light blinds him for a second. There’s a steady drip drip drip of water falling onto concrete though it’s too dark to make out much of his surroundings as the light flickers off again. The last thing he remembers is coming to an office building, where a villain with an unknown quirk was holding people hostage. A teary sounding gasp makes him look upwards weakly, only now noticing he is laying down.

He sees your face for the first time then. Eyes puffy and red from crying, with a trail of blood dripping from your hairline and down your nose, past your lips to where it becomes smeared as you wipe it away hurriedly.

“You’re awake!”

Your voice is soft, and slightly trembling as you gaze at him with wide, wavering eyes. They’re very pretty, he thinks dazedly. Framed by wet lashes, he also thinks he could look into them forever. Shouto moves to shift only to have his vision flash as pain erupts like molten lava traveling down his side.

“D-don’t try to move! A beam fell on you before you passed out. You were barely able to get out from under it.”

Feeling woozy, Shouto has to close his eyes for a moment to keep the pain from escaping through his mouth. There’s a sickening crack, and he realizes he’s cradled in your arms whenever you whimper and pull him closer, so that his head is resting against your chest and you’re basically hovering over him. He hears rubble begin to hit to ground, and sees you flinch as some small bits of gravel bounce off your head and fall beside him. Your eyes are clenched shut, and a fresh line of blood runs down your face and drips onto his own. No rubble ever hits him.

He’s confused. Why is a civilian, a hurt one at that, putting their life at risk for a pro hero? He’s supposed to be protecting you, yet here you are shielding him with your soft body. He must make a noise, because suddenly you’re looking down at him again, eyes wide with concern, bravely holding back tears now that he is awake.

Softly, you move one of the hands you had cradling his head to wipe at the blood that has dripped onto his cheek. Apologizing quietly, you begin talking again, the almost whispers coming out of your mouth seemingly echoing through the space.

“Your walkie talkie still worked thankfully, for a little while. Deku is here, and so is Red Riot and Uravity. They should have us out of here in no time, so don’t worry ok! Dynamight is also here, but that’s more worrying than anything honestly.”

Shouto can’t help but laugh at your candor, wincing as it makes the pain throbbing through his body flash intensely. You pull him even closer in your lap, now petting his bangs soothingly. Your fingers are soft on his sweaty skin, and he almost purrs whenever you begin to trace the lines of his face in a mesmerizing manner. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this when he was hurt. Usually it’s himself alone in his untouched apartment, picking up the pieces and taping them back together. He can never quite get them to fit right.

“Are you hurt badly?” His gravely voice seems to surprise you, and quickly you shake your head. He sees you regret it instantly, as you wince harshly afterwards.

“Just my head, and my leg. But not nearly as bad as you are.”

Another crack shoots through the space, and you look up worryingly at the unsteady beams ominously hanging about you. Shouto can see them looming when the light flickers on again. He can also see you. You look a little rough, he’s not going to lie. But at this moment, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful. His own personal angel, sent to comfort him and protect him when he’s been hurt so badly he can’t move.

You make quiet conversation after that, trying to ignore the drips and the cracks. He learns that you’re an ordinary boring office worker, your words not his, but you like your job and your coworkers so it’s not that bad. You learn that Deku has been his best friend since their first year at U.A., and that friendship is still just as strong. He learns that you don’t particularly care for cold soba whenever he brings it up, which makes him look at you in mock horror. It’s funny, seeing the normally stoic hero make such an exaggerated face that you can’t help but giggle.

The conversation dies down after a sickening pop! is heard and suddenly sunlight blinds you both. Looking up, you see shocking red hair and sharp teeth grinning at you and feel relief course through your body. Shouto feels your body relax against his, though you don’t let go. Red Riot reaches for you, but you shake your head again.

“Take Shouto, take Shouto.”

As he is lifted from your arms and into his friends, he sees you smile at him tearfully and give him a little wave. He can see you fully now, and can also see how your leg is bent at such an unnatural angle it had to be agonizing for you, but he never once heard you complain. The last thing he sees before you’re out of sight is Bakugo lifting you into his arms, with a surprising gentleness, saying something that has you nodding before you rest your head on his bare shoulder, relieved tears flooding from your eyes.

A couple days later, as Shouto is scrolling aimlessly through his phone in his hospital bed, he sees a headline that makes him stop.

PRO HERO SHOUTO KEEPS CIVILIAN SAFE WHILE TRAPPED UNDER COLLAPSED BUILDING!

Thinking of your eyes, which so bravely stared into his own, he can’t help but disagree with the article. It was you who kept him safe.

#mat’s writing #shouto #my hero academia #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #bnha shouto #mha shouto #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #my hero academia headcanons #my hero acedamia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha angst #my hero imagines #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero x reader #shouto angst

[xoxo-sarah]

can you do a one shot for daryl where the reader has really bad hiccups and they're in a meeting or a public place and she gets really embarrassed about it and like slaps a hand over her mouth to try and stop it but she can't and everyone's staring at her and it's a comfort fic bc he basically excuses her out and helps her

Rabbit Questions

↝a/n: I am not meaning to have my Daryl fics related to rabbits/bunnies. It's just a coincidence.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (could be platonic or romantic)

↝ Warning: not proofread, not proofread, set in season 11, Commonwealth

↝⎙ 9.15.23

"And this one- beautiful, isn't it?" Pamela stood in front of a wall with a huge frame, a painting of A orange flower, the pedal reminded you of flames. It was pretty, really. And you weren't just thinking that because Pamela was in front of you, watching your face for any expression that said otherwise. The artist standing beside the painting could have something to do with it, too.

For some reason, Pamela Milton and Lance Hornsby had made it very clear you, Daryl, and Rosita came to view the art gallery, she had called it. It all felt weird, walking up and down the halls to look at all the art with eyes watching your every move. Pamela had stepped up to point out every detail while Lance just watched from the distance.

This is just so different from having to clean out walkers from buildings to show your worth, pretty much. Instead of blood on concrete, it was homemade paint on a canvas.

The paintings were pretty, really, but it just felt like they were being pushed down your throat. It was new, refreshing, a new beginning. You weren't one for change.

"Michelle here has many pieces of art here." The older woman smiled at the woman standing by the wall, a tight-lipped smile of her own on her face. Pamela pointing at a canvas towards the corner. "She's had quite the life. Painting helped her get all the built-up aggression out in some way,"

Did she actually care about what this girl had been through, or was it a front to seem like the most amazing and caring person ever?

"I felt for her, i really did." There she was, putting on a front just to make it all about her. Of course.

"When I met Michelle, i was going through-"

Hic!

Eyes, going wide, you glanced at Daryl and Rosita. They glanced at you but looked back, trying to seem interested. Pamela, looked at you for a moment, before turning to Michelle.

"As I was saying-"

Hic! "I am so sorry." you put up a hand to excuse the hiccup fit. It was one after another, and to be quite honest, it was starting to hurt your diaphragm. Your hand went you to your ribs, trying to ease the hiccups away.

A particularly loud hiccup had Pamela give you a disapproving look.

"Excuse us." Daryl's hand went to your elbow, half-heartedly excusing you two. He didn't really care if they had a problem with you walking away.

He led you by your arm to the open door, the fresh air fully hitting your blushing cheeks.

"Good lord." He grumbled, watching as your body moved with yet another hiccup. "Put yer arms over yer head or hold yer breath or somethin'."

You puffed your cheeks out, holding your breath. Daryl simply watched, waiting.

Hic!

it was muffled, but still had you huffing out.

Daryl just looked at you, before he smiled in amusement. He moved to sit down on the steps to the building, out of the way of the traffic of people. Patting an empty spot next to him, he motioned for you to sit.

"When's the last time you saw a rabbit?"

Confused, you could only look at him. He nodded, waiting for you to answer. You looked away, actually thinking about it. "I don't know." You couldn't remember the last time you saw a rabbit off the top of your head. It was probably one you had to kill to feed yourself, anyway.

"Probably a year?"

"What color was it?"

"What are you on about?"

He twirled his hair around and out of his face, the smile from earlier still lingering. "Still got hiccups?"

Your eyes widened again. They were gone.

"Carol told me that one. It was that or scaring ya."

The picture of Daryl and his dear friend talking about rabbits to get rid of hiccups was cute. Maybe it had been Daryl who had hiccups and Carol asked him the same questions.

"I prefer the rabbit questions." You smiled, looking out at the people walking freely around the Commanwealth.

"Should we go back in?"

"No." he was quick to answer. "If I see another bright flower, I'm gonna pluck my eyes out."

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#🐿️ #Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon fluff #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #twd imagine #twd imagines #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #twd season 11 #xoxo-sarah 🩷