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baddiewiththebook · 6 months

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STUFFING AND SAUCE [18+]

-> It's Thanksgiving, and the gang is all together under one roof: the Henderson house. While Mrs. Henderson and Wayne battle the turkey in the kitchen, Eddie fights his own urges with the older Henderson sibling. You're home for the holidays, and Eddie's hungry. . . but, not for turkey.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> hookup to lovers, angst, smut

-> warning - explicit content [18+]

a/n -> This is reuploaded and heavily edited from last year.

-> <-

"You keep looking in that mirror and I'll break it," Dustin warns.

Robin's hair stands on end. "You can't be serious? That bad luck is transferable, you know?"

Dustin rolls his eyes at her superstition because honestly they've all come to an agreement to help set the table for Thanksgiving dinner party that his mother has offered to host this year. And, with Eddie's lack of partaking because he's too busy blotting down his hair in the mirror, Dustin doesn't understand why Eddie's come to his house in the first place.

The older boy fidgets with the end of his shirt, and not long after Robin comes to his ear to tell him that you'll love how he looks tonight. That's right, you're coming. He's totally forgotten that Dustin's sister is in town for Thanksgiving. Eddie's hair dangles over his cheeks, so that hopefully no one sees him blush.

"When does your sister get here?" Max throws herself onto the couch next to Steve, whom scoots a seat over from her. Lately, he realizes, she's been a bit too clingy to him.

"She's late," Dustin checks the clock that hangs high above on the wall ticking the time away. "She should have been here an hour ago- Eddie!"

Eddie abandons his task once again to dash over to the front window facing the street. Frost makes the drying grass and the limp trees appear shiny like glass. Foggy car headlights grow larger as they near. Seeing your Honda pull up the short drive brings back memories from the summertime.

Last summer was a record high in heat, which left you with barely any clothes to wear that didn’t leave your skin sticky and hot. Especially when Eddie was bent over the hood of your car and knuckles deep in your engine. Greased up hands and all, he wiped the sweat from his brow to tell you that your car was fixed. When you offered him cash as payment, he declined to the manor of being friendly not as the professional Eddie Munson - mechanic. You chewed on your bottom lip while batting your lashes in his direction.

Eddie’s unsure how you can make him melt, while simply being you. But, eventually, you worked out a payment that both of you were happy with. And, you continued that payment damn near every week. In his office. In his garage. In his van. In his kitchen. In his shower. In his bed.

No space in his shop or in his apartment are left sacred to either of you. And, when the summer was done, you were off to college. No calls or texts from either of you.

“She’s here!” Max spins in the front hallway. You are her idol. She swears you are the coolest person she’s ever met (aside from El).

Dustin shoves Eddie out of the way to observe for himself that in fact his sister has come home for the holidays. Not long after, their shared mom runs out of the house with her apron around her neck like a cape in her sprint.

“Hi, baby!” Your mom peppers your face with her kisses.

You whine. “Mom!”

“Okay, okay!” She pinches your cheeks until they’re glowing, but she does let you go.

Following her is your little brother, Dustin, who grabs you around the waist and he pulls you in tight. He’s gotten much taller since the last time you’ve seen him, but that can’t be right. You’ve only been gone for a few months!

“Hi, Dusty!” You ruffle his hair.

He grins. “What did you bring me?”

“I barely have enough money for books!” You snort.

Dustin drops his grip and then he fans you away. The little sucker grumbles, and avoids helping you with your suitcase despite your mom’s request. But, Steve and Robin dogpile you with warm greetings and Steve offers to help with your bag.

“I need all the dirt on college,” Robin whispers. “Are there really stains on all the sheets?”

What she means to ask is much raunchier. But, your mother is still picking at your clothes because you haven’t ironed this shirt. She’s got this look upon her face like you’ve been away at sea for years and years, and not like you’ve spent two months away at college.

Steve lugs your suitcase inside with you in tow. The rest of your brother’s little friends have also crowded around to get a piece of you. You’re like a celebrity in your own home. Even Wayne’s got his arm around you, whom you didn’t expect to see (but, you’re not complaining - you love Wayne).

Wayne’s got himself stuck in the kitchen with your mom to help her with the turkey. You’re the top subject right now, but soon he dashes off to make sure the bird isn’t drying out in the oven. Conversation begins to swirl like normal, and you’re on the lookout for the one person you might have missed a little more than you should.

You sit on the living room couch between Nancy and Steve with Robin at your feet, and the kids are running about the home hiding a can of whipped cream from your mom and Wayne (who are the only adults capable of reprimanding them of course).

“Do you have any plans while you’re in town?” Nancy asks.

You hope she doesn’t see your neck crane over her curly head. “None, but I’m here for the weekend and Monday since I don’t have classes.”

“What’s your schedule like?”

Nancy overloads everything she can while you’re around. No offense to the other people in your friend group, but they didn’t invite intellectual conversations like you and she did. She’s got too many questions for you, while you’re overthinking that the mid-length skirt you wore is too much.

“Have either of you seen Eddie?” Wayne poses the eye opening question that has the whole gang bobbing their head back and forth like meerkats.

“I saw his van outside, right? I’ll check there,” you stand away from your spot on the sofa.

Robin wants to make a sly comment about your willingness to brave the cold for this shaggy man, who seems to have taken a full shower, shave and added cologne to his washed outfit for the evening. She bites her tongue.

“Bathroom?” Nancy suggests that she go upstairs, and Robin will check this floor.

Steve hauls himself from the couch. “I’ll check outside.”

Steve secretly wishes that Eddie be there smoking a joint that he could bum off of. Holidays aren’t Steve’s favorite because his family isn’t around either. He’s here because he can’t say ‘no’ to Mrs. Henderson.

To no knowledge of Eddie, however, is anyone looking out for him. He’s snuck out to his van while everyone else stays distracted by your arrival. Watching your chest bounce while you laugh, or your skirt flutter while you twirl - you’re a God damn tease and you know what you’re doing.

Knock, knock.

You wrap your knuckles against the glass of his van’s driver’s side window. This must be Eddie’s lucky day, and you’re thinking the same by the way you twist in front of him.

“What’s up?” Eddie nods.

You pout. “Well, you didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me and you’re already bailing?”

“I’m not bailing,” he assures. “Besides, do you think that the way we greet each other is appropriate to do in public?”

A part of you is quite offended that he hasn’t addressed the elephant in the room. Not only did he neglect to call you in the past few months, nor did he greet you at the door like the rest of your friends had done earlier. But, the other part of you is winning over this tug of war. You haven’t had sex in months, and shining your own shield only goes so far.

During the summer, you got what you wanted. You and Eddie screwed like rabbits. When you left, a nagging itch was left that couldn’t be scratched. Admittedly, you got cozy in his apartment. Your sleepovers became ‘Good Morning’ with a side of eggs and toast. Soon began you washing the dishes after, and Eddie asking about what you’re studying for school.

After a while, his apartment became a second home and you no longer had to ask where the bathroom was. You pretended that this little game was to keep Dustin’s watchful eye out of sight, but sipping your morning brew without asking Eddie to add anymore cream or sugar became a bit more than you bargained for.

You’re leaning forward now to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. But, before you have a chance to pull away, Eddie slots his lips to yours like he’s made his way home.

“You want to take advantage that there’s no one parked behind me? Like old times?” Eddie pinches your chin with his index finger and his thumb.

It just so happens that the Beyers family is running a tad behind schedule. Will couldn’t find his Christmas sweater, and Johnathan had to second his shower because according to his mom, he still stunk like a skunk had run through their house. But, as they finally do pull up to the lively home with Christmas lights twinkling on the roof, Joyce Byers spots the eldest Henderson twisted in close conversation with the Munson boy.

Joyce parks their car halfway onto the sidewalk because Johnathan is jolting out of the car murmuring something about the food smelling so good. This leaves Will to juggle the grocery bags full of potatoes and Mac and Cheese into the house. But, Joyce stops to interrupt the conversation you’re having.

“Hi, Miss. Byers,” you pull away from the conversation to greet her warmly.

“Joyce, honey! Joyce!” She corrects. “I didn’t mean to- oh, I’m sorry. Hello, Eddie!”

Eddie waves his hand in her direction. That’s not to be rude, but he would rather not have Joyce see him in a pair of tight denim with his dick as hard as it is right now.

“We’re just going out for a last minute grocery run,” your lie leaves a sour note on your tongue.

Joyce knows very well that the last grocery store to stay open on Thanksgiving has closed about thirty minutes ago. But, she doesn’t tell them that she knows this. She quite fondly looks back to her own memories of when she snuck out of her family ‘s Christmas party with her boyfriend at the time.

“Be safe,” Joyce winks, then turns on her heel to go inside.

You’re quick to hop into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. An old bitter cigarettes scent stains the interior of the vehicle like a thick layer of butter on toast. You buckle up, then kick your feet out in what little room he has under the dash. Eddie’s abused the passenger side of his van for fast food wrappers and travel mugs he hasn’t taken inside for however long.

Aside from a tire whining, Eddie cuts the headlights to sneak out of the drive without anyone noticing from inside.

Eddie places one of his hands across your thigh, “Grocery shopping?”

"What was I supposed to say?" You shake your head

You’re biting at the edge of something wonderful here. Looking on to your left, Eddie’s got his lip tugged between his teeth. His eye on the road. His mind in the gutter. The hand he’s got squeezing against the fat of your inner thigh dances dangerously across your skin. Your spine arches straight back. Eyes shut blissfully as you let a whine escape you.

Then, he dares flick your awaiting clit while driving solo with one hand on the wheel and an eye on the road. Not to be crude, but he’s been here before with you. Tight on time. Sneaking about like high schoolers still. You’re on his mind most of the time these days because he wants to know if what you did with him all summer is what you would do in college with other people. He’s subjected himself to exhausting torturous hours at work just so he doesn’t have to think about you in your back getting railed by a random dude.

Somehow he’s got you here now, and your putty under his fingers. Your eyelashes flutter. Brows furrow. Your chest rises and falls at the lightest touches from him.

Clenching your legs against his large grip he's got on you, Eddie pulls off to the side of the road. He’s waited far too long to revisit this little charade. Pulling in behind a few trees, he doesn’t have to ask because you’re already climbing into the back.

You land on a set of blankets he hasn’t taken out since you left.

Eddie crawls into the back after you. Kisses like he never left. Nostalgia makes your heart skip inside of your chest. He keeps you there under his touch, and squeezing at your sides as you sink deeper into his embrace.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Eddie breathes onto your neck, before attaching himself there and nibbling into your flesh.

Your whines acknowledge that he’s got just the right spot - like he could have forgotten. The embrace is so familiar that your chest burns for him.

“More,” you beg into his hair, while gripping your hands into fists of the fabric on his back.

If there was more time, Eddie would have stayed there all night just to hear your heart beat against his eardrum. Yet, he’s undoing his belt, the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down to match you flipping up that sinful little skirt you wore just to tease him. Wetting his fingers, he then hooks his pinky in your underwear to move them to the side. Rubbing your clit, Eddie hears your moans bounce from each side of the van. You’re on full display. Deliciously beautiful and all for him.

You’re both aware of this, so there’s no need to say anything.

“Eddie,” except you do. “Please. I need you!”

“I’ll never stop needing you,” he finds your lips again, as he pushes himself deep inside of you.

Groaning together, your core aches a familiar feeling. Tightening your grip against him like you’re scared he’ll run away. He’s got his eye not on your eye, but on your soul. Reaching far beneath the depths that anyone could ever fall into, and at its core is you. Your being is the only part he’ll ever need - the only thing he longs for. And so, as he’s fucking you at a punishing rate, he holds on tight for he’s afraid to let go.

You break the eye contact when you toss your head back. Stars form in your vision, as you topple over the edge of bliss. Following soon, you hear Eddie groan one last time and he’s spilling inside of you.

“Shit,” he rolls onto the blankets trying to catch his breath.

You’re doing the same, and with one long exhale, you swing yourself over so that you’re laying across his body. Eddie drowsily opens his eye to see the most beautiful creature he’s laid his eye on. Lipstick smeared. Mascara smudged. Your heart sounds as though it’s going to burst from your chest.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

Eddie chuckles. “Hey, beautiful.”

Beautiful. That’s an unspoken word between you two. Usually, after sex, the two of you either dress in silence or roll over and go to sleep. You miss the feeling of being wanted, and you’ve got your fingers crossed that he’s not just playing his cards.

Eddie’s hand finds the small of your back to bring you closer.

“What are you thinking about?” He touches your forehead with his index finger.

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, before bravely making the leap to ask. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you’ll never stop needing me,” you swallow thickly.

Eddie’s fingers make patterns along your bare back. Eyes locked onto yours, he studies your face through the shadows of the arriving evening. All this time you’ve been away, you’ve been on his mind. If he knew what dorm you live in, he’d be there in a heart beat to keep you warm during these cooler months.

“I’ll never,” he folds your fingers in with his just so he can bring your hand to his mouth, and so he can kiss every knuckle on your hand, “stop needing you.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you lean in for a kiss.

Someone bashes a fist against the back door to the van, and you know your screwed. Red and blue lights flicker and flash outside the window.

"Shit!" You scramble to pat down your hair, and your skirt.

Eddie tucks himself into his pants, while muttering curses to himself.

“Police!” Jim Hopper’s voice is easily recognizable. “Come on, Munson. Don’t make me come in there.”

With a few run-ins with the law, and making a reputation as the “freak” of Hawkins High School, Eddie’s van became a staple around town. Even the police knew just about where ever he is at any time.

Tumbling over each other, you’re sure the guilt is written all over your faces. Nearly blinded by a flashlight to the face, you shield your eye away from Jim Hopper, who squints at you two. Clearly caught in the act of a wild youthful fantasy, Jim clicks off his flashlight and speaks to you both;

“I was on my way to your mom’s house,” he makes a point to stare you down, before continuing, “when I was radioed that there’s a suspicious van lingering off the side of the road. Care to explain?”

Not like there is much explaining to do. The story is pretty black and white, but that doesn’t discourage Eddie to come up with an aching bumble of lies.

“We were just on our way to the grocery store when we ran out of gas,” he began with your earlier plot. “We ran out of cranberry sauce.”

“Right,” Jim grunts. “I better give you a ride back.”

Walking back into the house to explain why you and Eddie disappeared has been mute to your ears. All of the funny faces from the younger kids, or the suspected glances from the older friends. God, you’d never hear the end of this from Robin. She’s been on your behind about fixing you up with Eddie for a while.

“You okay?” Eddie nudges you.

Jim says with his back turned, “Come on, kids. No use standing around a dead car. I’ll see what I can do about getting you back here with a gas can in the morning.”

“I’m fine,” you're embarrassed, but you're warm knowing where you stand with Eddie.

You’re crammed in the back of Jim’s Chevrolet with Eddie. Also stuffed between you two, is a sizable Tupperware full of mashed potatoes. El twists around in the front seat to let you know that she made them this year.

Bumps in the road weigh heavy against the beating inside your chest. You’re not speaking a language that Eddie totally understands, but he knows where your head is at. He touches your pinky with his sending a few jolts straight to your heart and your stomach flips. You continue to manage the Tupperware from tipping all over the seats.

The Sheriff spins the wheel to turn down your street. That empty spot Eddie left has Jim’s name written all over it.

Somehow the home has become busier than when you left earlier. Sounds of laughter bubble through the chill of the evening. The blinds are drawn, so you can see the Christmas tree in the living room lined with a calamity of decorations that have been collected over the years. Tinsel shines against the living room lamps draped across doorways, and the window frame. Your mom insists on putting the decorations up the day after Halloween.

You can almost hear Wayne’s boyish laughter that he’s never quite grown out of, while he tortures the young kids. He’s cornered Lucas and Max with a fake bushel of mistletoe in his hand. Max squirms when Lucas kisses her on the cheek, but later blushes while no one is looking.

The car tilts as the group climbs out and down onto the driveway. You’ll never understand the love for a lifted truck like this.

Despite wanting to be useful, El takes the mashed potatoes from you.

“I’ll be taking that!” She announces proudly.

With El and Jim both taking the lead, Eddie sneaks in to tug at your hand.

The front door swings open.

“Jim Hopper,” Wayne announces. “And- erm, Eddie?”

You poke your head around Jim’s back, and Wayne’s mouth draws agape.

“Their grocery store run ended on a flat tire, so I brought them back here,” Jim says.

“Thank you for rescuing them,” he replies. “Well, come in. Dinner is just about ready.”

Jim, El and yourself enter the home without too much inquiry from Wayne. But, you hear a thunk and Eddie’s protest, so you can imagine Wayne just knocked some sense into the back of Eddie’s head.

“You must be cold, darling,” Wayne snaps his finger. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate. Go on and sit by the fire in the living room. Your friends have been waiting for you.”

Pinching Eddie on the ear, Wayne drags him away to the kitchen where you just know he’s getting scolded.

You bite the bullet, and find your friends in the living room surrounding the fireplace. Steve’s fought for and gotten the prime spot, so that his back is to the flame and he’s heating up in the knitted sweater that Nancy made for him.

Johnathan is still unhappy about the exchange by the way, even if she knitted him a pair of socks later. You can’t imagine a world where Johnathan and Steve might get along anyway. Nancy has false hopes.

“There you are!” Nancy worries like a mom who’s lost sight of her kids for more than five minutes. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Really?” You plop down next to Robin on the couch, who’s got this grin that you beg won’t start talking.

“Won’t you enlighten us?” Robin bats her lashes.

Steve clears his throat. “Don’t think she’ll have too.”

“Warm up with this,” Eddie’s come from the kitchen with hot chocolate in hand. He hands it to you, and kisses the top of your head.

“Shut up!” Robin yells. “Really?”

“Really what?” Dustin pokes his head from around the corner before Eddie can snake his hands away from you. “Oh, damn.”

-> <-

tags: @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson preference #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

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unoislazy · 6 months

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Fucking Brat

Mizu x Reader

Summary: you fuck around, you find out.

Disclaimer; Ray if you read this fic I’m gonna kill you.

Obviously swearing.

A bit heated but no nsfw

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You and Mizu met during one of her many stops, this stop in particular happens to be the town you lived in. Mizu had essentially saved you from being taken by three men who had no regard or respect for your boundaries. From then on, you refused to leave her side, wanting some kind of protection in exchange for really anything Mizu wanted.

Well apparently the one thing off the table was your cooperation.

While traveling together, you and Mizu butt heads constantly. The fact that she had kept you around this long would’ve been a shock to anyone considering how you two talked to each other. You always liked to poke fun at things that she did, situations you came across, anything and everything. Mizu never openly found your jokes or teasing manner all that funny and yet for some reason unbeknownst to you, she kept you around.

You liked to tease her, oftentimes that meant just openly flirting with her despite never getting a reaction. You almost thought it was impossible for her to ever flirt back so you never felt any shame in what you said. She had never truly given you a reason to believe otherwise so you constantly tested her patience.

You had found a place to rest, which this time surprisingly was not in the middle of nowhere in the woods. Due to low funds, you, Ringo, and Mizu all had to share a room but you had agreed to sleep on opposite sides of the room.

Now you sit staring at the woman across from you, the room was extremely quiet given the fact that Ringo was not there. You had your chin resting on your hand as you pouted. Mizu didn’t even need to look up to know that you were staring at her.

“What do you want?” She asked, one of her hands lightly rubbed a cloth on the lense of her glasses to clear them up.

“Am I not allowed to look at you?” You asked in a very sarcastic tone, you knew what you were starting.

“Not when you’re staring, no.” She argued, her voice was low and she didn’t really want to enable you by responding but she couldn’t help herself.

“Why? Are you going to burst into flames if I don’t stop?”

“No, but you’ll lose an eye.” She responded, placing her glasses down on top of her cape which had been folded beside her. She really had no reason to wear them, you already knew two of the secrets she hid.

“Oh, scary.” You mocked, pretending to be trembling in fear. “You know you’d never hurt me.”

“You wanna bet?” She asked, finally looking up at you.

“You’re no fun.” You pouted again, now facing away from her. You didn’t think Mizu would actually ever put you in danger, but honestly you didn’t want to find out either.

“Never said I was.”

“Do you have even the slightest sense of humor?”

“Considering what you think is funny? No.”

You groaned at her response, she was so annoyingly dull and barely ever gave you anything to work off of. Which is why, any chance you’d get, you’d try your best to annoy her and push her to her limit.

“So, Mizu.” You began. The woman didn’t even pay you any mind this time but you knew she was at least still listening. You had slowly begun to make your way next to her, much to her very clear dismay. “Are you always so serious?” You asked despite obviously knowing the answer.

“Only when I’m annoyed.” She answered just as plainly as she had every other time. By now she had already set down her glasses but she still refused to properly look at you.

“You know I feel like our time together would be much more pleasant if you would lighten up a bit.” You jokingly suggested. You didn’t mind her reluctance to give you any sort of answer, sure it was incredibly annoying, but it only made your job more interesting trying to find more intricate ways to go about it.

However, this time Mizu didn’t even answer. She sent you one look and that was it.

“Your eyes are so pretty, it’s too bad that every time you look at me they’re only filled with disdain.” You pouted, still not gaining any response from the woman. Alright fine, if she was going to be boring, you’d have to up your game.

You moved yourself closer to the woman, now sitting beside her

You very carefully moved your hand closer to hers before you muttered,

“You know letting yourself have fun won’t kill you.”

You were persistent, she’d have to hand you that. She had to catch herself at one point, she couldn’t let herself so much as look interested in whatever kind of trouble you were trying to offer. No distractions, that was what she kept herself to, and that’s what she planned on staying with.

Your persistence was beginning to get on her nerves though, not because she didn’t enjoy your useless bickering, oh no it was quite the opposite. It was because she enjoyed it that she was annoyed. She didn’t want to let herself cave in, she had to keep herself from pointless endeavors, no matter how tempting they may have been, and you had tried tempting her on more than one occasion and nearly succeeded.

Why she kept you around if she didn’t want to be distracted was beyond either of you.

“Come on Mizu.” You teased, your hand overlapping hers as you noticed the annoyed look on her face. It wasn’t incredibly noticeable but the way her lips and nose scrunched ever so slightly let you know you were doing precisely what you wanted. Besides, Mizu was no stranger to being blunt, had she not wanted this attention she would’ve stopped you well before this point.

Your hand slowly traveled from her hand, lightly grazing up her arm before landing on her shoulder, you leaned towards her and whispered,

“Let go, just for a little.”

Mizu then swiftly grabbed your arms pulling them off her shoulder and then pinning you down. You hit the ground fast, but it wasn’t a hard enough impact to hurt, if anything it simply shocked you. You weren’t expecting such a sudden outburst, and especially not such a restricting one. Now you were lying beneath her, her lower half straddling you much like you had seen her due to a few others on your travels.

You’d never admit it to her but any time she did this to someone else you silently wished it would have been you, well it seems like you got your wish.

You looked up at her, her breathing wasn’t incredibly heavy but it was noticeable enough, her hands were tightly wrapped around your wrists, they didn’t hurt but it was a bit uncomfortable.

The annoyance she held on her face had become much more noticable, but her eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t quite read.

“Do you ever stop talking?” She asked, obviously not wanting an answer. Your eyes were widened from the sudden shift in attitude before you smirked.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” You joked, earning a scoff from Mizu.

“You think you’re so funny.”

“I know I am.”

“Would you shut up?”

“Make me.” You challenged. The woman whose face was no more than a few mere inches away from your face paused for a moment. She was contemplating something and honestly with the way she acted it could either be that she wanted to slit your throat or make you regret saying that somehow.

You wouldn’t though, you said what you said and you meant it.

“What, you don’t know how too? That’s too bad, I guess you’ll just have to de-“ Before you could finish your snarky remark, Mizu had planted a kiss directly on your lips. It wasn’t a soft loving kiss, it was rough, full of longing, and an annoyance that only you could be the blame for. You couldn’t help but melt into it, sure you were trapped underneath her so there was not much else you could do but you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something you wanted to come out of your shameless flirting.

She shifted a bit on top of you, her legs were firmly planted on either side of your waist keeping her still. She was still holding your hands down but not as tightly as she had been, one of them slowly moved down your arm as she deepened the kiss.

While this wasn’t exactly what you were expecting from Mizu, you weren’t complaining. If anything you just expected, “you’re so annoying leave me alone.” And to call it a day, but clearly that’s not where you were going to leave this off.

As flirty and unflustered you wanted to act about this situation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last that long. Your heart was pounding rapidly, you shifted your legs a bit uncomfortably underneath her, trying to readjust yourself.

Seeing as this wasn’t the outcome you were expecting you didn’t know where to go from here, you truly didn’t believe you’d get this far.

After some time Mizu finally released from the kiss, lifted off of you only to return back to the position she had been in before where she was a few inches away from your face. Once she had lifted from you, you both sat in silence for a moment before she let out,

“God you’re such a fucking brat.” She practically growled. You stared at her, your eyes widening even the slightest bit as you felt your stomach do a backflip. You had never felt that way with anyone so feeling it now with her was a discovery you had not planned on making at this specific point in time.

As funny as you might have thought this situation was before this point, You had pushed her to the limit and now you were dealing with the consequences of it.

You weren’t complaining either.

She continued to hold you in place despite you making no real effort to move away from her, not like you could even if you tried. You both sat there, inches away from each other, just staring at each other. Her eyes were filled not with annoyance like you expected them to be but… amusement. She was enjoying this just as much as you were.

Seemed like she was willing to partake in a distraction after all.

Your reluctance to make another joke at her expense after saying what she did didn’t go unnoticed by Mizu. A smirk slowly made its way onto her face as she scoffed, “That's what gets you to shut up?” She asked rhetorically.

She wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t said anything since then and honestly it embarrassed you. You had so many good lines but that one thing made you shut down almost completely. It felt almost as if the whole reality of the situation came running into you full force.

You were laying under Mizu as she straddled you, and you got yourself into that position by annoying her until she wanted to make you shut up. If this was anyone’s fault, it was your own.

“Nothing to say now?” She mocked in a way similar to how you had originally. You didn’t know what to say and all you could do was just stare at her. What does one say in this position?

“Where did this come from?”

Finally you had at least managed to get a few words out.

Mizu leaned forward, her lips gently brushing against your ear as she whispered,

“From you testing my patience.”

With that the feeling had come back yet again. She knew what she was doing and you really couldn’t complain, not like you would anyways.

“Not so brave when you have no power.” She continued to tease, a very knowing smirk stayed plastered on her face before she had neared your face once again. You could see it in her eyes that she had gotten some sort of idea and you hadn’t a clue in the world what it could’ve been.

“Since you feel it so necessary to speak all the time,” She began, pushing your wrists together so you could grab them with one hand, the now free hand was now gently placed on your chest.

“Why don’t you say out loud what you want to come from this, and we’ll see how lucky you get.”

Her eyes were staring into yours, suddenly you felt as if you never wanted to speak again. Sure this wasn’t what you planned but it was still what you wanted, and yet you felt an odd sense of stage fright.

It was only you two, no one else. Ringo had been off gathering items which often took him up to an hour, Taigen had been left behind yet again after trying to get Mizu to duel him for the millionth time. There was no one else but you and her and an empty room.

“I want…” You began, earning an expectant gaze from Mizu. She was being surprisingly patient for someone who seemed to really want to drag you off the pedestal you pretended to put yourself on sometimes. As you tried to express whatever it was you wanted, her hand slowly made its way from your chest and up to gently cup your face,

“You don’t know, do you?”

It was as if she read your mind, or just paid attention to the fact you couldn’t figure out how to answer. You shook your head, you didn’t want to admit to her that you had been bluffing throughout your flirts but it seems like that wall was wearing thin either way. You were surprised it even took this long to begin with, you had been bluffing from the get go, but now that you were actually face to face with the extremely attractive woman who you’ve said multiple things you might have wanted to take back, you didn’t know what to do or say until it finally clicked,

“All of you. I want all of you.” You finally answered. It wasn’t the answer your originally intended but it was an answer nonetheless.

“Not exactly what I was referring to, but it’s ambitious, I like it.” She admitted. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed before she leaned down yet again and whispered,

“Let’s see how much you can handle.”

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evilminji · 7 months

Text

A Moral Dilemma! Question!

Let's say there is a trucker. An average man. Kind enough, did okay in school, loves his wife and misses her like you wouldn't believe every time he has to go. Misses his little girl even more. HATES he's missing the early years of her life. First day to school, getting her up and brushing her hair into pigtails, making pancakes like his Pa used to make. The works.

But the economy is shit. Him and his wife have to work. Make ends meet. They're DESPERATE to get out of Gotham. Move somewhere boring. Safe.

But... well, places like that cost money. Kids cost money. And he did OKAY in school. Not a lot of jobs out there for "Okay" guys from Gotham.

His cousin finds him a route though. A solid job. Really pulled through when push came to shove and things were looking bad. Like he might have to take up that offer to Goon. Now he's a trucker.

And his route? Well the half way point is Amity Park. He stops to stay the night every time. Never really STAYS, has heard they got themselves a Cape and such, but? It is what it is. He's from Gotham. He minds his business. Parks on the outskirts of town to avoid getting hit.

Doesn't realize, he's getting SOAKED in Ectoplasm every time he's in town.

And this trucker? Not the healthiest man. He wishes he could be. But life on the road is not exactly conducive to fresh fruit and leafy greens. He eats more grease and sugar then his doctor would EVER recommend. In fact, has specifically warned him not too.

But some days you just need a warm meal. You miss your kid, your wife, your bed. And you know it'll be days before you can see any of them. But at least there is pancakes.

You can pretend you're eating with your family. Or at least, let the coffee be warm enough for the two of you. God, but the poor man is tired.

And as he gets close to Gotham?

Breaking News!

The Joker. AGAIN. The trucker cringes, horror filling him. What poor soul has that mad man hurt NOW? When will it end? Him and his wife are so close to getting the hell out. Thinking Kansas. His wife has been joking about pie baking competit-

No.

Oh God No.

There, on the screen, tears streaming down her beautiful face? Is the love of his life. His best friend. His EVERYTHING. And in her arms, trying so, so hard to be quiet. To muffle her terror born sobs... is his little girl. One pigtail torn from its srunchie, blood on her tiny face.

The trucker knows how this story ends.

Batman will try. He ALWAYS tries. And sometimes... sometimes that's enough. But he knows the odds here. His family are in front. Stars of this sick show. The trucker can't breathe. His heart is pounding, too hard for a man of his health.

He's not young. Should be on blood pressure meds he simply cant afford. Is panicked by a terror few should ever suffer. And? What runs in his family, strikes true. It feels so far away, the pain in his chest. He... No, he can't.

He can't.

His family.

He can't die. Leave them. They're in danger! They can't die like this. So close to freedom. Happiness. They... the..y.. ca..n..t...

THEY WON'T. HE REFUSES.

~~~

So! Here in comes the QUESTION! As you sit, watching this terrified child call for her father, ripped from her begging mothers arms, you see a green opaque man full body tackle the Joker.

You watch his eyes visible glow and change color, fight a visible STRUGGLE, like jeckle and Hyde, for control of his body. Between the monster known as Joker and what seems to be? The little girl's newly Meta father.

The Father wins.

You watch the Bat arrive with the police. Thank the man and say he can release Joker into custody. See the EXACT moment the Meta realizes something. Turns to look at his daughter, then his wife. Looks back at the commissioner.

Says "No".

Is he right to do this? To Possess the Joker, as a life sentence, to insure the safety of others? He is perfectly will to sit that life in a jail cell. Knows he will never be allowed to roam free again. But! The Joker is contained.

Is this Right? Or merely emotionally satisfying?

Discuss :3

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #to be honest #walker comes to collect the Joker and slaps a prisoner in him in exchange for a reduced sentence #trucker ghost and his wife move to Kansas #sometimes family is you #your mom #and your dad who is a ghost #but oh sweet jesus the screaming ethics debate here at the precinct #jason you are a crime lord #batman stop trying to save the Joker #please

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pparadiselost · 7 months

Text

crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village.

that much you know.

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother.

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert.

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches.

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode.

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you.

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch.

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right?

crunch.

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers.

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.”

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly.

he’s hungry, he decides.

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her.

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf?

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him.

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in.

“what-?” you flinch. ��no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds.

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him.

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth.

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body.

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity.

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places.

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go.

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb.

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt.

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable.

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy.

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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marvelmymarvel · 1 year

Text

The Uchiha

Tobirama Senju x Uchiha!Reader

Synopsis: He hated all Uchihas, every last one of them. But you? You were somehow different... And he didn't like that.

Important note: I know the timeline/ages are OFF as Tobirama was 39 when he became Hokage. Let's pretend he was 25 :)

Naruto Masterlist: Here

Also, Tobirama drinks respect women juice. It's canon in this house.

Madara's huff of annoyance sounded out in the room as you turned down yet another suitor. "Sister, why must you sabotage every proposal that comes your way? I'm trying to help you find a husband-"

"I do not wish to get married yet Madara, I'm only 21" You bit back, arms crossed as you pouted up at him. This whole 'suitor' search had been going on for months now, and you were growing tired of the good-for-nothing men your brother brought your way. "And when do you expect to finally be "ready" for marriage, Y/n... Your time is running out-"

"I'm only 21"

You always hated the idea of marrying young and it was the Uchiha way to be married by the time you turned 22. As the head of the clan, Madara was having a very hard time accepting that you were not willing to follow protocols when he was already struggling to maintain power amongst the members. "Y/n please..."

He sounded so pitiful, so tired... But you were done with this conversation. Standing from your spot on the floor, you brushed off the dirt from your dress and started towards the door "We can talk about this later, I want to go for a walk"

"You can't run from this forever Y/n. You will be married within the next 6 months"

You slammed the sliding door shut, eyes rolling in anger as you took off towards the town. "How could he be so selfish, trying to set me up with men that I clearly have no interest in" you huffed out to yourself quietly as you stormed past members of the clan. Some sent you glares, others averted their gazes knowing that one wrong look would mean certain death from either you or your brother.

Your body relaxed as you entered Konoha's downtown area, the Uchiha section and its demands of you were now far away. The sound of the people bustling around the market filled you with joy. There were many girls that were around your age sitting around outside of a cafe, they seemed to be laughing about some stupid thing that had happened to one of them. It was so simple but it was a reality you yearned for.

Sometimes you hated being a part of the clan. They were just so far behind the times and it felt almost suffocating to exist among their stuffy ideologies.

'You're supposed to get married young and give your husband as many children as he desires.'

'Your place is in the home, where you care for your husband and children.'

'Ambitions? You don't need them! Don't forget, your place is beside your husband and that's that'

God, it made you sick. There was nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but it wasn't for you. You wanted to get out there, work, have dreams, and find love naturally... Not through your brother of all people.

You wanted someone else, someone different. Someone who wasn't in the clan and someone who would challenge you to be something more than just a wife and mother. You wanted-

You halted in your tracks as he crossed in front of you, his Kage cape flapping in the wind behind him making him look bigger than he was. Your mouth dropped a little as you watched them walk away, you hadn't seen either of them since Tobirama became the second Hokage and it felt like today was your lucky day.

"Tobirama! Hashirama!" You called out, hand shooting up as you caught up to them. Hashirama smiled brightly at you, arm opening up urging you to hug him "Y/n! How've you been? How's Madara?"

You slyly shot a glance toward the white-haired man, and you didn't miss the slight annoyance that flashed across his face at your presence. You knew he didn't like your clan. You didn't like your clan either.

"I've been good. Madara's been... Madara" You were trying to sound chipper, but the thought of Madara soured your mood again. Hashirama nodded, he knew you and Madara were on thin ice what with him trying to find you a husband and you NOT going along with it. "Husband search not going well?"

Your face morphed into a scowl and Hashirama kicked himself for even asking when he knew that's what was wrong. Tobirama's eyebrows furrowed together at your change in demeanor, he was used to your ruthless attitude, so this was something he wasn't expecting. You grew embarrassed under Hashirama's pitiful look and Tobiramas inquisitive stare, "If I do marry, it won't be an Uchiha" you muttered quietly before brushing past the two men.

The two brothers stood there in silence as they watched you walk swiftly down the street towards some food stands, "I shouldn't have said anything" Hashirama sighed as he rubbed his face in anguish, "Her brother's going to kill me"

"Why does she not want to marry an Uchiha?" Tobirama breathed out, he didn't know what was getting into him, but it felt like he was seeing you for the first time in his entire life. He had known you for years, ever since you were children. He found you to be quite annoying and lumped you together with the other Uchihas that he hated.

Yet something felt off.

"They treat their women like property. It's mandatory that a woman marries before 22 and has a child before 23. Her place is in the home and they can't do anything without permission from their husbands"

"That's ridiculous. Women have needs and desires as well-"

"Yes I know Tobirama but that's how the clan operates-"

"Well, it's another reason as to why I despise that god-forsaken lineage-"

"If you're so upset with it why not marry her?"

Tobirama slammed his mouth shut at Hashiramas statement. Him? Marry YOU? An UCHIHA of all people?! Hashirama stood his ground though, he wasn't stupid and he saw the looks Tobirama has been sending you for YEARS now. Tobirama could lie all he wanted to, he has always cared for you more than he'd like to admit. Tobirama started to take off back to the Hokage's office, not liking the look Hashirama was giving him "I don't think marriage is a good idea, the clan will disown her if she marries outside of their circle-"

"She hates her clan Tobirama and honestly, I think you're the only person who can make her happy"

Tobirama tripped on his footing trying to stop in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his face was full of disgust at what Hashirama was insinuating. Him? Make you happy? Not possible.

"Uchiha or not, you can't deny that you care for her in some way. I know this because you look at her differently than you look at anyone else. You don't even look at the women you try to court that way-"

"I'm done with this conversation" Tobirama huffed out, his face was burning red and the whiteness of his cloak only made it more noticeable that he was embarrassed. Hashirama opened his mouth to make another statement but Tobirama stormed towards the Hokage's office, leaving him standing there in disbelief.

How could someone so smart, be so clueless.

* 2 weeks later *

Your feet kicked at the ground as you waited for your turn to talk to the Hokage. Madara was unable to meet with Tobirama to go over the latest requests of the Uchiha clan, so you were left to the task of talking to the stubborn man who always seemed to make your heart race faster than it should.

"Y/n Uchiha? You're free to go in now"

You nodded at the secretary before standing and heading towards the door, heart pounding as your gripped the wooden door. Sliding it open, you popped your head in before letting out a quiet 'hello'. Tobirama's head shot up at the sound of your voice, he was expecting Madara so this was quite the surprise. "Y/n" he greeted firmly, trying very hard to calm his nerves as he took you in.

You were wearing a simple dress, not too fancy but not too casual. It fit you in all of the right ways, you were attractive sure.

But it was your smile that took his breath away. It reached your eyes, making you appear carefree even though he knew you weren't. "So sorry about my brother's absence. He grew ill over the weekend and asked me to step in for this discussion" you explained sheepishly as you navigated your way to one of the chairs across from the desk.

Tobirama didn't say anything but nodded at your apology, he wasn't upset with this change of plans. He was actually happy. After his discussion with his brother, he tried to push you out of his mind, but every time he saw you he was reminded of the feelings he so desperately tried to hide. "What do you want to speak about?" Tobirama started as you sat down in front of him. You looked at him wide-eyed as if he was asking you something foreign, "Oh! Yes, that" you finally stated as you opened up the envelope with the items to discuss.

Your eyes scanned over each bullet, humming to yourself in agreement with the requests on the page, but you grew still at the last bullet point. Tobirama cocked his head as he took in the way your face fell into disbelief and sadness. "Is something the matter?" His voice was clear but muffled at the same time thanks to the growing rage pounding in your ears. "They want your help with finding my suitor..."

His blood ran cold at the words, if they were asking for his help, that meant-

"They want to look outside of the clan" you breathed out, and in a way, you almost sounded relieved. "Is that something you want?" Tobirama's question was met with silence, but it wasn't a no. "I guess you'll need to marry into a higher-ranking family, do you have a preference-"

"Wait wait wait" you started, waving your hands as your cheeks heated up at the idea of marrying someone who wasn't in your inner circle. You didn't know if you were happy about this, you didn't know if this was a better option. Tobirama studied you from across his desk, you were somehow giving off the energy of relief but also anguish, two feelings that never went together.

"What do you want, Y/n?"

His question took you off guard, it wasn't usual for someone to ask you what you wanted. "I... I want to marry someone who will let me be more than just his wife. Someone that will let me be me." You finally breathed out, your nerves beginning to somehow morph into excitement at the idea of getting what you wanted. "So a higher-ranking individual who will let you be you? Is that all you desire?" Tobirama sounded calm, but inside he was kicking himself. He tried to rack his brain for who you could marry, but all he saw was himself.

"Yes. I suppose"

Your answer was quiet and bashful, had you somehow read his mind and saw the very image of you two together? "Do you have a preference to what clan-"

"Um... Maybe a Senju?" It was bold, very bold of you to blurt it out so quickly. It told him that you had pondered the answer to that question for some time now. "Well, you're in luck. The Senju clan isn't as backward as the Uchihas are. You will have no issue finding a husband who will nurture you and your desires" Tobirama was thankful you couldn't see his shaking hands below the desk. He didn't like the idea of you being with someone in the Senju clan, someone who wasn't him.

This felt wrong. He hated your clan so why were you different? Had he always felt this way and hated you to cover it up? He thought back to when you were kids. You were a couple of years younger than him and you were always trying to talk to him even though it was forbidden.

Forbidden.

'The Uchiha clan is evil. I forbid you from talking to them in any way shape or form'

That's what his father always preached, Hashirama never listened but he did. Now he was regretting it.

"How do you feel about me?"

"I'm sorry what?" You sputtered out, eyes wide at how calm he sounded. Tobirama didn't falter, only stared at you as if urging you to answer even if you didn't want to. "I uh. I guess I like you? I don't know I enjoy your company and-"

"I meant marrying me"

Your blood ran cold but not in a bad way. Your face burned and the heat began to travel down your neck and chest. He was what you wanted, what you've always wanted. Ever since you were kids you decided that he was the one you wanted to be with. But he always hated you so you wrote it off as a stupid crush and tried to move on.

The key word was 'tried'.

"I've wanted that for a while yes-"

"Then it's settled. I will send a notice to your brother. I will be taking you to dinner tonight, do you have a restaurant you like- What's wrong?"

Tobirama noticed your eyes widening at his words and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. You had just admitted that you wanted to marry him, so why were you looking at him like he had 5 heads? "I just didn't expect this to happen. I thought you hated me to be honest"

He bit his lip, contemplating what to say to reassure you that you were different. He did hate your clan but he didn't hate you. The hatred he felt was because he was infatuated with you. But how could he put that into words? There was no way to reassure you in the way you deserved. Instead, he stood and circled the desk before leaning against it. "Let me take you out. Let me court you... You'll see that the feeling of hatred was one of forbidden desire"

You nodded slowly at his words, still uneasy and unsure.

"Now where do you want to go for dinner?"

#tobirama senju imagines #tobirama senju imagine #tobirama imagine #tobirama imagines #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto x reader

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lordgrimoire · 1 year

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The Amity Parkers

Inspired by This Post, which is long, read the many reblogs and tags and comments, it’s fun!

Tim was Ninety Percent Sure that he was going absolutely insane, granted it was a long time coming. Danny Fenton, his Chemistry teacher and Dash Baxter, his Phys Ed teacher? That was two people from the same practically non-existent town in Illinois, but add onto that the fact that even MORE people kept showing up in Gotham from sleepy little Amity Park and proceeded to either A:Thrive or B:Thrive but with the Energy of a Kryptonian having nonstop contact highs.

After his two teachers, or more accuratly before, there had been Jazz Fenton, a new Psychiatrist working in Gotham and making rather noticeable strides in things. Then arrived her brother and Baxter, who had applied roughly at the same time in the aftermath of a Rogue attack on the cities water treatment plant, and the floodgates seemed to less open more fly off the hinges as though breaching charges had been used.

Now there were MORE people here, there was Tucker Foley, working at Wayne Enterprises as a coder and a damn terrifying one to boot, Sam Manson, an activist who ended up throwing Tim during one of his Red Robin patrols where he’d come across her “Protest Site” which had been a small park in The Narrows. Wes Weston, a cop, had been giving his coworkers and his Chem teacher NOTHING but grief, insisting that Fenton was doing “Something” wrong but never quite being able to get things to stick, upon further digging this had been a long running one sided rivalry. There was also a SECOND Psychiatrist, Paulina Sanchez, at Gotham Academy who was also from Amity Park, and her files were airtight, as Damian’s most recent hacking attempt and Tim’s own follow up had failed to breach her firewalls.

So, here Tim was, staring at Danielle “Dani/Ellie” Masters, Dr. Fenton’s CLONE and the Academies newest but also most feral teacher as she boxed the Joker hard enough for an audible crack to be heard from their classroom from where she was fighting the demented clown on the field. Baxter was still running his class as normal, though a bit further away, and Dr. Fenton was still teaching their class, while Tim was trying to get Extra Credit and vengeance on the Doctor through today’s extra credit task, making a tracker that could track Doctor Fenton for Twenty Four Hours.

Why was he seeking vengeance you ask? Well given the fact that Jason brought Doctor Fenton to Family Dinner last week [with Alfred’s blessing] and had come in with the most gremlin-esque energy he’d seen from a Non-Rogue. Now don’t get Tim wrong, he likes Doctor Fenton, he may be demented as all get out but he was regularly making counters to drugs and toxins that seemed to just inhabit Gotham. BUT! Doctor Fenton and Jason had been so sickeningly cutes-y with each other at Dinner, like a couple of Birds of Paradise trying to one up each other.

Then of course was the “Story Time” where the two had teamed up to tell embarrassing stories, though Danny held back, a touch. It didn’t absolve him, especially with how he egged on Jason, which very much didn’t help the whole “I know you’re the Bats” situation. AND THEN! There was the fact that a majority of the Amity Parkers KNEW that they were the Bats, It was as though they had gone through this whole song and dance before, which given prior statements of Doctor Fenton having “Hung up the Cape” seemed to imply he used to be a hero in Amity Park, where your average joe could one on one a rank and file leaguer or at least give them a rough time.

The fact that a semester of training from Baxter and Fenton alone had made Tim’s year group capable of facing off with the JL was a testament to that.

Speaking of which, some Junior Leaguers were coming to Gotham, if only for a place where they were not as “Strange”. Some of those moves may have been encouraged with the recent custody battle between Luthor against Vlad and Danielle Masters regarding Connor, who was a Copyrighted clone as it turns out, which had resulted in Connor being made a ward of Danielle Masters, who had chewed Superman out HARD along with her Original, Doctor Danny Fenton himself.

Suffice to say, Clark did NOT get majority of Custody, and only got every third weekend, which was terrifying in Tim’s opinion that this small town mayor who was as wealthy as Luthor, had turned up, legally thrashed Luthor, and then given custody over to his daughter, thrashed SUPERMAN with KRYPTONIAN LAWS, and then gone back to Amity Park Illinois to resume his Mayor-ship there. The fact the town was essentially a self governing and self sufficient region meant that the League was now VERY AWARE of it, and the fact that the League of Assassins had tried and FAILED multiple times to infiltrate the town, with more people going rogue than staying loyal, with only one out of nearly two hundred assassins returning to Nanda Parabat, critically wounded and very much insane.

In Tim’s opinion? Amity Park raised people similar too but far more prepared than Gothamites, for while Gothamites may have the Fight in their bones, Amity Parkers seem ready to back it up with experience, training, and life experience.

But then again, Mr. Lancer had been an immigrant to Amity Park, and he was the blueprint of sorts for all of his students who had gone into teaching, much the same for how Batman was the Blueprint for all the other Bats.

____________________________________________

Tagging some Folks included in the Masterpost

@plotwholls @welcometosasakiworld @bonebrokebuddy @transsunmoonwizzard @omnicrafts @vala-dreams @fox-sama97 @tired-mom @kyrianclawraith @americano-psycho @mikami1992 @thecatchat @stealingyourbones @mutable-manifestation @britcision @dxrksong @kawaiikenna @mrowsters @the-gay-florist @thatgaydemigodnerd @0satellite0 @afanofmanyships @pencil-for-a-dog @any-mouse

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #liminal amity park #danny fenton #dash baxter #wes weston #paulina sanchez #danielle fenton #jazz fenton #tim drake #mr. lancer #vlad masters #lex luthor #gotham

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sweetsweetjellybean · 9 months

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A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

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