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kittykattropicanna · 4 months

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Going absolutely feral over Mechanic!Simon and how you met him :(( I just want him so badddd

TW: pervy!Simon, smut, creampie, possessive!Simon, dirty talk (praise), he just wants you so bad girl, swearing, kinda naive!reader, brief mention of spanking

Mechanic!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Just imagine you’re driving through a shitty little town somewhere in England, you don’t even know where you are at this point.

Your ex just kicked you out of your shared apartment in the middle of the night and you have nowhere else to go, your only option is to drive in your little shit box of a car as far away from him as possible.

Of course its poring rain and of course your car breaks down in the middle of the road surrounded by scary looking government houses and a very obviously high homeless guy screaming and yelling all sorts of profanities :(

With shaky hands you quickly look up every mechanic in town on your phone, its almost dead and none of them answer :( of course they wouldn’t! Its the middle of the night!

You don’t have insurance either! Everything is going wrong, you’re so lost and scared :(

You start to panic when there’s only one number left, with a shaky breath you call it and just as you think you're out of luck, a deep cranky voice answers begrudgingly obviously pissed that someone dared to call him at this hour.

Tomorrow is his only day off for the week >:(

Simons personal number was attached to the shop after Price promoted him to manager, now he has all sorts of dumb fucks calling him all times of the day and he hates it!!

But how could he say no? A poor girl called him in tears gasping for air between sobs and absolutely hysterical :(((( His not an ethical guy and a young girl like you that knows absolutely nothing about cars :( imagine all the extra money he could charge you? You wouldn’t question it either! Oh how could he say no to such a silly girl…

After what feels like hours a very tall, bulky, thick man with a scary balaclava knocks on your driver seat window and you scream so loud!!! His so scary and big! And his eyes! They’re are so angry :(((( he must be so angry at you for calling him :( you feel so bad :(

After he loads your car onto the tow truck he insists on driving you home

“Ohh come on sweetheart, would hate to see a pretty baby like you stuck in the rain, let me take you home darlin’”

His so pervy too! Subtly touching your arse and looking at your hard nipples that poke through you soaked shirt :(

He can’t help it! You can’t blame him! You’re not wearing a bra!

And with a beautiful face like yours and a body like that, what did you expect him to do? Not eye fuck you? Don’t be ridiculous.

You tell him that you have nowhere to go because your shitty ex threw you out and Si insisted you stay with him!!

��Oh pet, you poor poor girl, you want to get a room at a motel? No. Nooo. That’s no place for a doll like you, come stay with me darlin’, come on sweets, I’ll sleep on the couch, promise yeah?”

“I’m just tryna’ keep ya safe honey, its not nice around these parts, okay? hate for somthin’ to happen to ya”

And you know his right :( he came all this way in the middle of the night, left his comfy bed in the pouring rain just to help you, his from around these parts and he knows best!

His voice is so deep and husky, you just know a man like him could keep you safe!

You jump in the shops tow truck and he insist you take off your soaking shirt and put on his company jacket.

Its covered in oil and dirt, smells like cigarettes and is wayyyy to big for you. “Riley” is printed onto the left breast pocket with a large logo with the words “Price’s Motor Repairs” on the back.

Its so disgusting and smells musky but something about it makes your pussy clench!!! His so manly, so dominant, how could you not get turned on by him!!! You could feel his eyes roam your breasts as you sit in his jacket, chest completely bare underneath, hard nipples rubbing against the fabric :(((

Once you reach the shop, he drops your car off then shows you around.

He wants to impress you sooooo bad, showing you all sorts of tools and telling you what he uses them for, how he uses them to fix things. The whole time his talking all you could look at is his big muscly arms as he purposely flexes them for you.

Never in his life has he seen such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl and all he wants to do is bend you over his modified truck and fuck you so hard you’re creaming on his cock :(

And that’s exactly what he does! Before driving you back to his, he has you bent over, back arched and his callused hand wrapped around your hair as he ruts into you while you're still in his company jacket :((((

Your poor pussy hasn’t taken such a big girthy cock before, his wide hips connecting with your arse and slamming your much smaller body into the hood of his car :3

Thrusts so deep his car shakes from the force :)

As you moan and babble completely cock drunk you can hear him snickering and grunting behind you, whispering dirty words in your ear

Praising you between grunts….

“Look at you love, fuck, look at that perfect fuckin’ pussy, taking my cock so well, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” As he pounds into you so deep the tip of his leaking cock touches your cervix. A small squeal exiting your lips as he holds you there for a second, letting you feel for the first time what a real deep pounding feels like :)

“Never been fucked this good have ya baby? Never cum his hard before” he’d snicker has you cum for the third time, legs shaking and mascara running not from the rain this time, but from the tears of pure pleasure his so kindly giving you :(

And of course his coming inside of you! His loads are so big as well, when he finally lets himself cum he absolutely floods your pussy :)))

Your moans bounce around the tin walls of the shop, the sound of him slapping your arse echoing at the same time

You can feel the hot ropes shoot up inside of you as he continues to slowly thrust making sure none of it goes to waste.

He tries to suppress his moan, disguising them as grunts but a few slip past his lips :(

He doesn't pull out but that doesn’t stop his cum from leaking out of your cunt and down you beautiful thighs,

“Look at tha’ baby, fuckin’ hell, you did so good for me my gorgeous girl, so fuckin’ good”

He just met you but his already so, so possessive. :)

He carries you to his truck because your legs feel like jelly :( his so gentle with you too, whispering in your ear how good you did for him and how you're such an obedient girl, his obedient girl.

You fall sleep in his truck, curled up in the passenger seat, his company jacket still wrapped around your bare chest.

You’ve had such a big night and the sound of the soft radio and drizzle of rain lulls you to sleep.

You wake up in Si’s arms as his gently placing you into his bed.

“You’re alrigh’ darlin’, jus’ close ya eyes for me, ill be here”

Its safe to say he didn’t take the couch that night :3

Request are open for Mechanic!Simon, I would love to hear your thoughts so feel free send them through and add to the AU. im just obsessed w/ himmmm

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping - fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve #drabble #series #the lost #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

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indouloureux · 2 years

Note

Hello! Would it be alright to request a shy, best friend reader thirsting over Eddie in a sleeveless crop top, if you’re interested? It’s been plaguing my thoughts all week long. I hope that you have a good rest of your day!

have a great day and thank you for requesting!! <3

you like eddie. he's your best friend. he's nice, and caring, and despite his roguish mien, he's quite the gentleman.

he's earned your respect. but holy fucking shit—

if a man, a hot man, particularly eddie munson, stood in front of you with cut-off sleeves with the band print of 'ramones' hanging proudly off his chest, with the shirt ending just on his midriff, would you still respect him and stop all those... discourteous and obscene thoughts that swim across your, what once was, innocent mind?

the line of hair beginning from his bellybutton that disappears down his low-rise jeans, his pudgy stomach with a scimitar tattooed on the side, a tramp stramp tattoo of dragon wings, the puppetmaster that goes rigid when his forearm flexes; his hair up in a messy bun with strands of hair curled on either side of his head that tickles his cheekbones.

and you, sitting on his couch, with the shortest shorts you can find and in a tanktop yourself, although covering your whole upper body, keep staring at him as he repaints the wall beside the door. eddie doesn't feel your ill-mannered stare yet, doesn't see that unadulterated filth going through your head like a film reel of him and you in rather insolent situations.

it's really not your fault that it's so fucking hot.

there's a plastic straw wedged between your teeth, sucking up the apple juice into your mouth, watching his back flex beneath his thin shirt when he reaches up. eddie grunts as he does this, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing, his voice low and guttural as he hums with the boombox.

you're startled when he suddenly drops the brush down to the bucket, the bristles sinking in the white paint. he plucks the cigarette off his mouth with his thumb and index, flicking it, ash charring the floor. eddie looks at you, withering patience weighing heavy on his eyebrows. "hey, sweetheart, still got some water?"

he's all sweaty, you realize, but his musk is insanely intoxicating still from afar. that damn drugstore cologne. "um. i drank it all. s-sorry. i can get you one though! hold on,"

you sit up. eddie carefully takes the juice box from you with a vacant hand, paint lightly smudged on your fingers. you feel your cheeks burn heavily at that swift but delightful feeling of the contact, eyes widening once your back's turned from him.

it's easy to pick up the cold pitcher of water from the fridge, but your mind has totally disregarded the predicament you'd face once you try to reach for the mugs stacked beside each other on the top shelf. you swallow heavily, still avoiding his gaze that lingers on the back of your head. you hope, you so hope, eddie would move his eyes down your ass that peeks through the bottom of your shorts.

scratching your ear, you set the pitcher down beside the sink before you stand on your tiptoes and open the cabinet. you manage to do it with success, although your fingertips barely graze the cold hardened clay of the white mug — which seems to be hand painted by eddie himself, with the hellfire club logo, and all that.

much to your dismay, he sees your struggles. he keeps the cigarette in his mouth before he walks over to you, lightly wiping off the streaks of white paint from his arms. you ignore him, you meant to. you can't bring yourself to face him.

"let me," he stands beside you, body hovering yours, an arm reaching up. his hand grazes yours again when he takes the mug, though he seems to be torturing you slowly from his never leaving gaze. it's like a scorching knife through ice, the keen tip digging through your solidified liquidness. doesn't stop until every part of you melts to a puddle beneath his feet.

you watch his hand envelope around the mug, slowly moving down. you flicker your eyes up to his, where he takes the pitcher and pours the water into the mug, somehow still with his eye on yours. eddie plucks his cigarette away, offering it to you with raised eyebrows that you gladly took 'coz, shit, do you need it right now.

he takes a sip of his water while you take a drag. then, "you alright?"

unclosing your cheeks, you take it out from your mouth and shy away from his eyes, staring at the red pick that dangles on top of his shirt. "yeah. why wouldn't i be?"

"you seem flustered,"

eddie sets the mug down, a hand on his hip and the other placed on the side of the nearby countertop. you laugh incredulously, scratching on your nose with the side of your thumb, cigarette hot as it hovers over your face,

"i'm fine," lie. you feel your skin slowly start loosening up. you feel your heart palpitate and the backs of your eyes heating up. he takes the smoke from you, eyes unconvinced. "seriously, i'm fine!"

dubious, his head dips so he's peering at you, fingers around the cigarette as he takes a drag. you look at his ring-less fingers, trace every tendril vein on the back of his hand and the bones beneath his pearlescent skin move; anywhere but his eyes, really. though, staring at his hands don't exactly help, either.

eddie tuts when he lets the smoke out his frowned mouth, his concern not quite sincere anymore. you can sense it shift into something like unconfident cognizance. he thinks your shyness is too conspicuous than it's supposed to be, and he wants to play with you.

"look at me,"

mellifluous, though marginally amatively daunting, the way he whispers the three words out with a hooded stare. his command compels you to give him your eyes and you do; you look at him hesitatingly, masking your anxiety with a confident façade. eddie admires its tenacity.

you look at him. directly at him. a song of oh shit oh shit oh shit finds itself stuck in your head. "what?"

"you've been staring at me," he knocks your chin playfully. "what's up sweetheart, huh? got something in my face, or what? i know i'm so handsome but, come on,"

you feel your heart deflate into a steady rhythm of calmness. you can't help but sigh out loud. "yeah. you've got shit on your face. full on fucking cockiness. motherfucker..."

eddie laughs. "what?! i'm just asking!" you roll your eyes, taking the cigarette from him. "(y/n), come on! i'm kidding!"

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things x reader

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 11 months

Text

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [5]

chapter five, act one: antichrist

October 15th 2012

Tommie sighs as she drops herself down onto the old crooked chair at the table, rubbing between her brows, her glasses on top of her head. George looks up from his laptop where he’s working on a demo and Ross glances from the work he’s looking over.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, drawing shapes into the wooden table, stained with cups rings and cigarette burns, “Just… long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Ross mutters, adjusting his glasses on the edge of his nose.

“Hey, how come us two are the only ones with jobs and you three get to roam around all day doing nothing.”

George pauses looking up, “Us three are making music.”

She shrugs, “Ross and I make the music too, I help with lyrics, he does bass all alone.”

Ross nods quickly, “Yeah, we go to work, slave away all day, then come home to have to put up with you lot.”

“Yeah.” She echos, nodding as they both sit side by side staring at George across the table.

“Well, look at it on the bright side, we have a month before the album is finished, then a further two months until it's out, then we’re touring for months, you two can quit and live off the money of the people.”

The pair slowly look at each other, “Three months?”

“Yes.”

“If any old ladies come in and shout at me the way they did today, I’m quitting on the spot.”

“Okay.”

“If she quits, I quit.”

“Then we won’t have an income.”

“We’ll sell pictures.” Ross shrugs.

She nods, “Of our feet.”

George rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his grimace, “Just, three months. Okay?”

She nods slowly, “Okay.”

Ross subtly high fives her under the table, as if they didn’t plan this over text ten minutes before she got home.

Out of the five living in the house they’re the only two left working, Matty and George quit almost two months ago, and Adam, a week ago so he could start focusing on helping with the last bits of the album.

Right now, both Adam and Matty are going over the new album design with an artist and Jamie, who has now taken on the role of manager for the band.

“When’d you get that?”

She looks down at her arm, the new tattoo staring back at her, it’s a little pair of cowboy boots.

“Yesterday. Roddy and I got bored.”

“How many is that?”

“Nine.”

She looks across her arms taking note of the little ones she can see, a quote from her poetry book, ‘I love you, don’t you mind?. Arctic Monkeys humbug logo, an old vintage looking frame on her left arm, the exact same spot that the box sits on her right just above her ‘the 1975’ tattoo. She also has a ‘the strokes’ logo on her left arm, 505 on her wrist, with three little stars on her waistline, dipping just below her underwear.

“You two have an issue.”

“Talk to the penguin, Ross.” She mutters, turning back to her little leather book and jotting down some ideas.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 2nd

“Baby…” There’s a pause, and she blinks into the darkness thinking she’d heard it, “Tommie…Tom!”

She stumbles out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she opens her bedroom door, “Roddy, what’s wrong?”

He tosses a hoodie from a pile of pillows and blankets he’s holding then steps into her room, “What are you doing?”

“You have the fire escape room, we’re going outside.”

“You could’ve just gone out if you wanted a smoke, don’t wake me-”

“No, come with me, please.”

She sighs leaning over to check the time on her phone, 1:02 am.

She follows him out as he goes outside but pauses when he starts moving up, “Where are you going?”

“To the roof, we can see the stars better.”

“We’re in the city, Roddy, you can’t see the stars, dead remember?”

“Just,” He sighs, reaching a hand blindly behind him until she grabs a hold of it, “Come on.”

When they get up there he drags two deck chairs to the one wall and wraps a blanket around himself, passing the other to her when she settles down.

He plucks a joint form behind his ear, showing it to her with a grin as he fishes in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms for a lighter.

“Want some?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never…”

He shrugs, placing it between his lips as he starts lighting it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out away from her.

He tilts his head back to stare at the dark sky, she’s right. There’s not a single star in sight, just the moon.

“Okay.”

He turns to look at her, “Okay?”

“Give me some.”

He raises a brow and shifts his deck chair closer to hers, holding it out to her, she goes to snatch it but he brings it back, “Don’t be so eager.”

She sends him an unimpressed look and he grins as he leans over, his other hand holds the back of her neck, angling her head towards him as the other presents the joint to her.

“Inhale.”

She wraps her lips around it, breathing in deeply, when the smoke hits her lungs she coughs and he laughs rubbing her back, “You Hanns. Adam reacted like that too.”

She shoves him away when he teasingly pinches her arm and takes it from him to try again, this time it’s much easier and she turns to blow the smoke in his face, still coughing a little as she giggles.

“I can’t do it.”

He looks down at it then back at her again, “Come here.”

“What?”

“Just, come here.”

She scoots her chair closer but he shakes his head, “No, Tommie, come here.”

He pats his lap and she raises a brow, he leans over catching her hand and tugging it slightly.

She doesn’t give him the complete satisfaction of sitting in his lap, she forces herself into the tiny gap on the big chair, forcing him to close his legs that were once laying open.

“This’ll be easier.”

“What will?”

“To take it down,” He says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “But if you don’t want to, you don’t- you don’t have to do it. If-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs then nods, “You guys, you do it all the time. And Adam never lets me, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

He nods quickly, lifting the joint back up between them, his free hand playing with some strands of her hair. Wrapping the red hair around his finger then letting it unravel again.

“Do it, Matt.”

“If you don’t feel-”

“Just do it.”

He nods, dropping her hair and cupping her cheek, using his thumb to tilt her chin down towards him. His other hand lifts, breathing in the joint and then cupping her face, the rolled up joint brushing her cheek as he brings her mouth to his.

He taps her cheek with one finger and she breathes in slowly, his free hand travels back to her neck, massaging the nape slowly as he pushes her closer.

She finally moves her hands from where they’d been folded in her lap, one threading through his hair the other fisting his hoodie.

She shifts when his tongue meets hers, straddling his lap, when he presses forward with a groan she pulls back, hand sliding through his to snatch the joint from him and take a long drag.

She giggles when she sees his face, eyes wide and lips red, he tries following her lips for another kiss.

When she tries pulling back he reaches up for another kiss, hand on her neck pulling her down as she blows the smoke into his mouth.

It continues like that for almost an hour, sharing ‘kisses’ under the stars, passing the joint back and forth until eventually they’re quiet.

Tommie is curled up beside him, tucked under his arm, his pinky brushing across her forehead and down her nose, her legs curled over his lap.

He starts humming under his breath and she groans, “Please, stop-”

“What?”

He laughs knowing they both aren’t the best fans of the singer, “Look, it’s a shit song-”

“It’s about his dead son.”

She shrugs, “It’s still shit, isn’t it though?”

“If I was Clipton,” He breaks off in a giggle, “If I was Cl-A-pton, right here, what would you say to me.”

She sits up and turns to him then clears her throat, “Sorry that your kid’s dead, but work on your music.”

She falls back against his chest, “It’s not a good song, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t like it. Besides, he’s an arsehole, he’s a bad- a bad person. He’s like,” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “A racist.”

Matty giggles suddenly as he stares at the moon peeking through the clouds, “If you-” He pauses and groans as he adjusts in the chair, hand settling on her calve, rubbing up and down through her Star Wars pyjama bottoms, “If you could have anything in the whole world- no universe what would it be?”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Garlic bread.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, “I really want garlic bread. But like, the little dough ball cheese ones,” She turns her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder, “What about you?”

“The moon.”

Her hands run through his hair, scratching at his scalp causing him to let out a content sigh as his eyes fall shut, “Mmm, that’s nice.” He leans further into her, “Nana used to do that.”

Her hands move slower at that, and he relaxes even more mumbling out an ‘i miss her’.

She smiles, head awkwardly leaning on his shoulder from her position, “If I could give you the moon, Matty, I would give you the moon.”

“Well,” He stands, stretching his arm, “We can’t get the moon, but we can get garlic bread.”

“Right now?” He nods, tugging her up by both arms, “It's two in the morning.”

“Don’t care, let's go.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 27th

Tommie rolls over in bed, she watches the time change, slowly the number one changes to a 2 and then there’s the familiar knock.

1:02am.

“Baby?”

She grins to herself, every night at one Matty gets out of bed, gathers himself some blankets and hoodies, and forces her to the window and up to the roof with him.

She opens the door, acting as if he’s awoken her for the third week in a row and not that she’s been lying away for the past three hours waiting.

“No wait,” He grabs her arm before she can push open the window and stops her from walking over, “Don’t wanna smoke today,” He looks down, cheeks tinting slightly, “Can we just… stay here?”

She hums, sleepily rubbing her eyes and falling back onto her bed, he stands there awkwardly, his usual bundle of fluffy blankets in his arms.

She lifts her head to look up at him, “You getting in?”

He nods quickly, kicking his slippers off and throwing the blankets on top of her. He folds his glasses up, placing them besides her on top of the closed record player she uses as a bedside table. He smiles as he looks at the two pairs, his squared frames and her curled ones side by side on top of books, notebooks and a mess of other things.

Then he lays down on his back, looking over at her as she adjusts to sleep on her right side. “You wanna watch a film?”

“Hmm?”

“A film?” He asks again, “I can get the DVD player in here. Instead of dragging the tele in in the middle of the night.”

She nods, “Sure.” Her face pressed into the pillow, eyes closed as she sighs.

He jumps back out, runs to his room and slows down when his ears are met with the snores of his roommate. He quietly creeps back in, pulls the box out from under the bed then grabs the old DVD players and a DVD.

He runs back, closing the door softly and smiling even softer when he sees her spread across the bed.

“Tommie.”

“Hmm?”

“If you want to sleep we can just do that.”

She shakes her head, “I’m awake.” She sits up on her elbows a little, “But a fag might wake me up a bit.”

He smiles as he moves to crack the window a little before getting in under the piles of blankets and digging into his pockets for his cigarette packets.

He takes one out and she looks up, opening her mouth and he twirls it around to place it between her lips. He takes the lighter out of the almost empty packet and then lifts it up, cupping over the cigarette to light it.

“What film you got?”

“True Romance.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don't roll your eyes at me, you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, but I know what happens from the amount of shit you talk.”

He smiles sheepishly then leans back against the pillows as he sets the player up, “Just… watch.”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at him in the corner of her eyes. Smiling as she watches him quote the few opening lines, his mouth moving but no sound actually coming out.

He feels her gaze and looks over, “What?”

“Nufin’.”

“Nothing?” He asks and she nods, smiling to herself again, he raises a brow and reaches to steal the cigarette from her hands, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, shifting to slide further under the quilt.

“Like that.” He says quietly, passing the cigarette back to her.

“Watch the film, Matthew.”

And watch the film they do, she stays quiet for the rest of it, and he looks over everytime a good part comes on to see her reaction.

When it finally ends, the credits rolling, at least three cigarettes now in the dr pepper can she uses as an ashtray, and the window has since closed.

“What did you think?”

“It was good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah, it was good. I didn’t hate it.”

He scoffs, “That is the best film ever made. It has everything, romance, action, drugs…”

“You want a good movie?” He nods, “Barnyard.”

“The cow film?”

“It's good.” She defends, pushing his shoulder when he raises a brow at her.

“It's a cartoon.”

“Still good.”

He shakes his head, muttering about her terrible movie choices as he gets up to put the DVD player away, by the time he does the twenty second task and returns to the bed she’s curled up on her side, blinking up at him lazily.

“After a good movie,” Matty says quietly, turning his head to look at her when he finally settles again, “Usually I kiss the pretty girl I’m with, you know, kind of a tradition I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His word is whispered quietly as his hand moves to push some hair from her face.

She lets her eyes drift around his face, taking in every little freckle, every little scar and indent on his face.

“You want some pie?”

She giggles but pushes herself forward to meet his lips, hands threading through his curly hair at the back to bring him closer.

He moves closer, sliding on top of her, pinning her down with his weight, hands either side of her head.

He lifts his thigh between hers, one hand moving to cup her jaw, pushing her face upwards with his thumb so he can kiss down her neck.

“Roddy?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t move, pulling at the neck of the jumper to kiss down to her collar bone.

“Can we-” She swallows and avoids looking down at him, and at his lustful eyes that watch the way her chest stutters when he kisses the right spot, “Can we stop?”

His head is lifting immediately, thigh moving to give her space, “Y-Yeah, Tommie, I never-”

“No, no, don’t think it’s your fault, Matt. I’m just too tired. It's three in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He asks quickly, moving so he’s laying on his side beside her, “If I did anything to make you uncomfortable-?”

“No,” She shakes her head and moves over to cuddle into his side, “You make me comfortable, Roddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans back into the pillows, letting her lean her head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around her, “I’ve never-” She breaks herself off with a yawn, “Never kissed anyone before.”

“Liar.” He declares quietly into the darkness of the room.

“I’m serious.” She tiredly giggles, “Never even held hands with a boy.”

He lifts his other hand to play with her hair, twirling it around and tugging softly, “You’re a very good kisser.”

“Mm?”

“Mhhm.”

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, leaning his head against hers, nose brushing her hair line, smelling the shampoo from the shower she’d had just before bed.

“I sleep better here,” Matty mutters as he wraps her red hair around his finger, “With you.”

He lets the hair unravel before picking a new strand to do it again, “My mind doesn't have to work as hard. When you’re here I just… just focus on you. Just you.”

taglist @thereisaplaceintheheart @indierockgirrl

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #the 1975 x oc #the 1975 imagine #matty healy imagine #matty healy x bandmateoc #show me yours matty healy

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thunder-threnodies · 3 months

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🌹 I was curious if you could write for Brett, even if he’s very clearly still committed to his missing Half Devil and not interested in anything romantic? Perhaps Brett simply has questions for a case he’s working on, and somehow the Captain gets him to enjoy the evening and it all stays very friendly :D

If so, Detective Brett Heroux is polite, even if he can be blunt when he’s annoyed or overfamiliar with someone. He doesn’t drink any spirits. He enjoys dancing- a lot, even if he’s been told he talks too much during it. He is perfectly content to ramble about the history of the dance *while* you are dancing it! It takes him a while to settle into fun, but when he does- he can easily join the festivities and inadvertently charm most he meets.

You bumped into the Captain almost by chance. Someone told you to "go and pet a Blemmigan" after... Too much time spent In your office studying the last case's notes.

How many days? Yes.

Anyway, you were mumbling and slightly grumbling when your hand, deeply tucked in the pocket of your coat, finds a small box of matches. It smells like zee water and glass polish and....

Something else. You can see that the borders have been nervously picked on and that several matches are missing and yet none have been lit using the box.

Peculiar.

You also notice that there's some stains on it, droplets perhaps, as if someone had been drinking while this delightfully decorated little box was sitting very close to the person drinking.

You stroke a finger on a stain and sniff it: whiskey but not a regular one. This was brewed with honey and smoked in Dark-dew Cherries barrels. There's only one place, coincidentally located down Ladybone's Road where you're currently strolling, that serves this whiskey, as it's quite pricey.

On the upside of the box, there's a logo and a handwritten inscription:

"We shared a cigarette and a glass of Meadnight at Blue Skye's Palace"

in an elegant, yet slightly nervous, calligraphy. Now in a more curious mood, rather than mopey, you slowly walk towards the indicated address.

As soon as you arrive at the Blue Skye's Palace, you realize that this is a high profile place. Society members and occasionally some Masters aligned individual go in and out regularly untill you notice someone that gives off the wrong vibe: a dark-auburn haired zailor, with a Captain, or Admiral perhaps, coat over a faded blood-red jacket.

You follow them inside and spot them sitting quietly at the bar, while a melancholic and sweet song is playing as background, drinking the very same whiskey you've found on the match box.

And look at the little things spread regularly all across the bar! Many, many of the very same freebies you've found in your pocket.

You sit down right next to the Zailor and order two more: one for you (although probably you're only taking a small sip. You want to keep your head level untill you know more about this fella) and one for them.

They slowly turn their head and shoot you a side glance that make your blood run cold: for a fleeting second you felt like some sort of Zee monster was sitting by your side and not just a Very Tired Captain, with blue rings around their eyes and heavy bags right under. Peligin eyes but they do not look like a Monster Hunter at all.

And Cosmogone Spectacles? A Silverer, then. But why Zail and meddle with Parabola at the same time? So many questions, so little time...

They smile and nod at you and suddenly they look like a completely different person. Warm and welcoming.

"Oh the privilege of having caught the attention of the Dandy Detective Brett Heroux himself, in the flesh! I'm so pleased to finally meet you!" they say as they gulp down the last of their glass and begin the one you paid for.

For a moment you're stunned. But you recover rather quickly. You clear your throat and just tip the glass to your lips letting nothing but a few drops go down your throat. Head level, Brett, keep your head space clear and steady.

"I see you know me...?"

"Captain or Silverer will suffice, Detective. Or if you prefer a less formal approach... Francis Morgan, here on, well--" they smile with a hint of irony in their voice "Terra Firma as they like to call it. Even though, for me, it's not so firma anymore. If you catch my wave." another little, slow sip. "Pun intended, Detective. I am a big fan of yours, by the way. Absolutely brilliant on solving most of the open cases around London! Have you ever thought about writing a book about your adventures?" they empty their glass. Yours is still rather full.

"A.. a book? No. I- I mean all of my attention has been on a very important case and a book would take too much time from me. But please tell me, is this yours? And why did it make home in my pocket, out of all?" You gently put the match box near their hand, the one holding the glass. You notice many fading scars on all the hand and that hand is more suited for holding a quill or a pen rather than a sword or pistol.

They sigh a little and twirl the whiskey in their glass.

"I truly hoped my little sleight of hand would catch your attention because you see, I need your help for a missing treasure."

They drop a few echoes on the bar and gestures for you to go outside, where they join you shortly after.

"Well, Detective Heroux... Brett, if I may call you by first name... Card's on the table. I've been sent a letter. They took a pocket watch from me, one of my most treasured possessions" they pause for a moment "pun not intended, this time."

They give you a piece of paper: letters cut out from various different sources form a rather weird message. The grammar and spelling are all messed up.

There are stains of sweets, soot and reddish dust on it. It doesn't look actually dangerous.

As the two of you walk around, not yet with a destination in mind, you ask them a few questions.

Yes they're a Silverer. It's a personal choice they made long, long ago for the sake of a loved one. No they won't tell you who, although you might have an idea who this beloved is. Yes, they have Peligin eyes but it's more because of an incident happened in their youth at the Gant Pole...

After a while, when you both exchange generally known facts about yourselves, you notice three shadowy figures spying on you from a corner.

"There, Captain!" you discretely point at them. "Don't look directly! Agh, they've seen us! Quick, keep up with me and run!" you say as you spring to action, beginning a chase across Ladybone's, Spite, the Docks.

The three figures are rather quick and agile and do their best to drop obstacles and hazards on your path. The two of you follow the hot trail for the whole afternoon, finding new, weird clues every now and then. A knotted sock but not a Knotted Sock so not Urchins.

A wooden charm. A broken compass. A patch of worn out fur. What the hell is going on here?

The three enter Ms. Plenty's Carnival and disappear amongst the crowd: it seemes that there's some sort of improvised dancing festival or reunion.

You come to a sudden halt and look around. Not a single clue or trace to be found.

You turn and see Morgan smiling at you.

"Well, Brett, we seem to have come to a momentary dead end. What do you say, shall we dance? Perhaps drop some questions, like bait you know, while we change partners. What do you know about this kind of dance and gatherings?"

As you happily instruct Francis Morgan on the matter, a new round of dances begins and quickly the two of you are caught in the vortex of joyous music and swinging melodies.

You're more than happy to guide the Captain through the dance, calling for each step and explaining some fun facts when the sequences they have already memorized come again.

The atmosphere is colorful and happy, your dancing partners more than capable of keeping up with you and you can always see the Captain in the corner of your eye. They've got your back.

When you're partnered with them once again, you lean in slightly closer.

"I've spotted a rather... cranky gentlman walk towards some attractions. I suspect our three rascals ar headed that way. Not Urchins but surely children. They stole a bowler hat somwhere and a trench coat. When the music stops, follow me."

And the Captains nods and does exactly as instructed.

You resume your chase of the Weirdly Tall Man (Definetly Not Three Children in a Trenchcoat) across all the Carnival untill you force them to take cover in the House of Mirrors.

But where are the culprits? THERE! No... no no no just a reflection of... A Master? Surely your eyes must have tricked you... That way! A small shadow runnning and the sound of small feet on the floor!

That Master-like figure again... You're pretty sure it's a Curator but which one...?

As you arrive at the center of the maze, three children, clearly siblings, each dressed up as a Pirate-wannabe, look at you slightly amazed and smiling. What the hell?

In the mirror behind them, the Winged Shadow reappears and two arms, strong and used to hold and constrain, come out of it, grabbing the trio.

No, not grabbing, hugging.

The Captain themselves step out of the mirror and lifts up the trio in their arms.

"YOU LITTLE...! I knew it was you! How the hell did you sneak in my quarters, huh?"

"We missed you! You said you'll come visit but it has been almost two months! Dad and Mom came but you didn't so we did what Pirates do: stole a treasure!" the oldest produces a shining pocket wathc with an inscription on its casing that you cannot clearly read from there and in the dim light.

The Captain laughs and makes a gesture towards the mirror: a big, clawed hand puts a wooden box in their hands, big enough to contain some decently sized objects. A small dagger for the big brother, who appears to be soon a young man rather than a child or boy, a map and a sextants for the middle sister and a fluffy, cute little Rubbery Feline plush for the youngest.

You follow them for a while, as the Captain chit chats with the trio. They politely ask you to tell the three siblings some of your most talked cases of missing jewelry or precious wares and you oblige with a faint smile: it takes a lot to make these stories children-friendly. But they're rather enthusiastic about them and your fame so you don't actually mind.

They insist that you and the captain challenge each other to a shooting contest.

They're good, it's pretty clear they're an excellent pirate, it's pretty clear to you that they're no mere Zailor or regular Captain by now, but they're swaying slightly as if being at Zee and miss a few shots, leading to your victory.

They take the three siblings to a House for Young Children and is welcomed by a joyous chorus of 'hello!' and 'WELCOME BACK CAPTAIN" as they leave the trio in the care of a handmaid and waves happily to the small crowd as they rejoin you, just outside the gates.

"Well, Detective Brett Heroux. Your fame and renown are well earned! I thank you so much for this evening. It's hard to be a Pirate and a good example for those little rascals. And to think they absolutely meant to go to Zee, some time ago! They're almost ready for the real deal, don't you think?"

They shake your hand firmly and bows down in a very elegant way and salutes you, strolling along the Docks and humming a happy melody, leaving you all alone and quite exhausted. Have you been a good example? You sure hope so. A detective and a pirate... What a fun and quirky duo they must have had looked like, that evening, running around London.

The day after you find a copy of "The Hound of the Baskervilles" on your table, signed by Francis Dargor Morgan.

"To the True Greatest Detective and hopefully, a newfound Friend. Yours truly, F.D.M."

As you have breakfast, the idea of a book about some of your cases comes back and playfully torments you for a while, leaving your heart lighter and your spirit happier. At least, for a while.

#fallen london #thunder threnodies #oc:captain francis dargor #oc: captain dargor #oc: brett heroux #ehehe gods help me with typos

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punkslovepoints · 1 year

Text

Wayne Munson was working most of Christmas. The plant paid double on Christmas day and, not being a religious family, Eddie had explained they tended to move their actual festive celebrations around based on Wayne's shifts. He visited Wayne regularly throughout the year anyway, so as long as they saw each other for a few hours on Christmas Day, that was good enough for them.

Still, when Wayne mentioned he had a couple hours window on the day itself, Steve, being the good friend he was, agreed to join Eddie in a visit to his Uncle's trailer.

Wayne had welcomed them both with big hugs, squeezing Eddie so tight Steve was a little concerned he was going to break his ribs and they'd settled all three on the couch, Celtic vs Bulls Christmas game playing on the TV. At halftime, Wayne had got up to make coffee as Eddie went out to the car to grab the gifts they'd brought, returning with a flourish and a ta da.

Wayne gave Eddie a new Metallica shirt and a necklace, a dragon's claw holding a red orb on a black string. He put it on immediately, handing over his gift for Wayne, a fleeced checkered shirt for the winter. Wayne handed Steve a present too, a small box containing a metal keychain with the Indiana Hoosiers basketball team logo on. "I didn't know what to get you, but Eddie's always complaining about you watching the sports on TV so I figured it was a good bet."

Steve pulled him into another hug, "It's perfect. Thank you."

Eddie grinned at the two of them, then reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. Holding it between his teeth, he fumbled about for a lighter.

Wayne spoke. "No smoking in the trailer. I'm tryn'a quit."

"No shit. Good for you," Eddie replied, turning to Steve and waving the cigarette at him, eyebrows raised.

Steve shook his head. He was trying to cut down too, although being around Eddie all the time wasn't helping. Eddie shrugged and headed outside, perched on the metal steps, he pushed the door closed behind him.

Wayne turned to Steve, signaled him to follow him further into the trailer. He coughed. "How's he doing?" He nodded towards the door.

Steve smiled. What he wouldn't give to have a parent like Wayne in his life. Someone who actually cared about him. "He's good."

"He eating well? Looking after himself."

"We have a rota. Nancy keeps us well fed. We eat vegetables and everything."

Wayne chucked softly. Looking over at the door again, he spoke quietly, not meeting Steve's eye, "And you boys are being careful, if you catch my drift. I know they've got these new drugs an' all, but they're still dropping like flies. I don't want you boys caught up in that. You're, what do they call it, monogamous? And if not, you're being safe?"

Steve took a moment to work out what he was talking about. Oh. He ran his fingers through his hair, found himself nodding.

Wayne continued, "Don't look so surprised. I know he's that way inclined, you didn't have to sit next to him the first time we watched Magnum PI on the TV. The color his face went will stick with me for the rest of my life." He chuckled, "That's his choice to tell me. If and when he's ready. But I can see the way he looks at you. That boy's in love. Tom Selleck levels of infatuation, and I can see the way you look at him too."

He reached out a hand and patted Steve on the shoulder, "You're family now, so I'm gonna worry about the two of you. Okay?"

Steve didn't correct him, didn't feel the distinction was all that important.

>> Read the full fic on AO3 <<

#steddie #steddie fic reccs #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #apparently i write fic now

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bosskie · 3 months

Text

Molluck Sketching Book

Last night, I had yet another urge to draw Molluck and I wanted to draw to a bigger paper since I have done those two previous sketches to my lil A5 sketchbook. I looked at my 'paper collection' (I have about 20 different paper pads and sketchbooks, most unused...) and I realized that I have this unused book-like sketching book and I could dedicate it to these Molluck sketches but maybe also make it be like a book about Molluck. So that second picture kinda 'illustrates' it being like a book and how to enjoy it! Yeah, I just had to have some fun with my stuff.

And yes, that's the cigar I have in its tube. I have seen some photos of really big cigars and man, I wish to have that kind of cigar but that was the biggest one I could find from the special closet they were in a tax-free store, behind a lock, but also the most beautiful one. I also got one cigar tin box I once bought, empty, and it decorates my kitchen, next to that Gametee's RuptureFarms tin sign.

Yes, the cigar is still there since I don't smoke but maybe one day... Cigars are just something more elegant than 'basic cigarettes' since they need some special treatment, meaning storing conditions. Yes, Molluck made me read about cigar smoking stuff and I wonder how he has stored his... Sometimes I just imagine him having like a big storage room for his cigars, a room full of humidors or the room itself being the humidor.

But yes, I wasn't really sure about the cover but I think that it looks somewhat fitting. I drew it with white gel pen, permanent type ink marker and paint marker, and I can say that it was kinda messy too... But I think that I succeeded fine enough since drawing with ink kinda requires that you do no mistakes and draw straight away. I used to enjoy drawing with marker pens, drawing straight away, but it can be stressful too since like I said, you shouldn't do any mistakes. But well, pretty many traditional art supplies can be quite unforgiving anyway, so that's kinda 'the spirit' of traditional art. I have like hundreds of markers, too... I should count them. I'm just saying this kinda to myself that I should really use the stuff I have, I have so much art supplies...

And yeah, that spine of the book has a lil RuptureFarms logo. I have been also just wondering more Molluck's role and power, for what he was truly responsible for since he was the CEO of both RuptureFarms and SoulStorm Brewery. I really wish that OWI (Lorne) reveals more stuff about this! And I wanna say that all this love I give for Molluck and wishing all the best for him doesn't mean that I support his doings. I don't love him for his actions and I see that inside of him is a beautiful Gluk. He can seem like the meanest boss in the world but he can also be sweet, just like his cigars.

For me, Molluck just doesn't feel 'evil' and well, I'm a 'Gluk-hugger', meaning that Glukkons are my favourite Oddworld species and I just love their certain greediness and selfishness... But well, it's also a part of my dark humour... Like one of the biggest reasons why I love Oddworld is that dark humour, I just love it! But also just dark themes in general there.

And well, yes, I still do support Molluck but in a way that I don't care about moral stuff when I say that. When it comes to this Oddworld/Molluck stuff, I just like to throw my moral to the trash can and play around. And the main reason why I started to love Molluck was that I saw myself in him; he just felt like a me as a Gluk...

I just cannot help myself with Molluck... I just wish to give all my love to him and that I could make him feel good and loved... Oh, and I do actually like to play around with Molluck being that 'angry jerk' kind of Gluk the Sligs said him being like. I mean, my image of Molluck has different shades and I love them all.

#molluck #molluck the glukkon #oddworld molluck #oddworld #art like a bosskie

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justplainwhump · 3 months

Text

Mistakes

Dany is a mess.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Referenced Peyton belongs to @wildfaewhump.

Content / warnings: Implied past assault (narrated from external pov), unhealthy coping mechanisms, vaguely referenced medical proceedings, referenced murder.

Kate Tabai lifts her cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. She has taken up smoking again after the incident.

Helps with the nervous hands. And the nervous thoughts.

She's a failure. And she isn't even sure if it makes it better or worse, that the person she's failed doesn't even acknowledge it.

Dany Hammond stands tall on the stage in front of the container port's employees, tall and confident, as she always does. Chin up, shoulders straight, a winning smile on her face. She's in charge, in control, everyone can see that, even when her elegant business attire is traded for a heavy red overall and a safety helmet.

Invincible. That's what Kate has always thought about Dany.

Until that night, when she'd found her after the gala. A part of her still refuses to believe that memory even existed, that the sobbing, incoherent woman Kate carried into the car and drove through the night was, in fact, Dany Hammond.

She's taken her to a lab, one of those that were loyal to the company, that would keep everything shut off until Dany could decide what to do with it. They'd taken samples, of Dany's blood, of the traces left on her body, while she'd slowly come down from whichever drugs she's been on.

"Don't tell Dad," had been the first coherent thing she'd said to Kate. And that was it. She hadn't mentioned a word of it ever again. Dany must've gotten the lab reports at some point, Kate had seen her pull the envelope with their logo from a stack of mail some days later, with the slightest tremble of her hand. Then Dany had closed the door behind her and shut the blinds to her office. When she emerged a while later, her eyeliner had been sharper than before, her blond ponytail tied a little tighter.

"She broke up with Montgomery", her assistant had whispered conspirationally to Kate, and she'd looked past their boss and wished it were that simple.

On the stage, right now, Dany pushes a button and behind her, applauded by the crowd, the new crane hums into life. Dany grins and claps as well.

Kate can barely stand looking at her.

In her pocket, her phone vibrates.

She flicks the cigarette into the port basin, glances at the crowd again, before she answers. "Yeah?"

"Ms Tabai? It's Nora from the lab. I, uh. This is off the record. But you're the junior's security detail, right?"

The junior. Dany always hated the term. Dany hates a lot more than what she makes people see, Kate thinks. She wonders if Dany hates Kate, too.

"I am. Why?"

"The, uhm. These samples we took some weeks ago. I understood you never came back to us about it, which is perfectly fine, of course, but, uh, the DNA results popped up again."

Kate flinches. "How?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "We run tests for the police, too," Nora says then. "There's been a crossmatch with the DNA found in junior's case. We didn't tell them, of course not, but I... I thought you should know."

Kate reaches out to steady herself on a steel beam. "What sort of case was that?"

"Murder." Another pause. "They say it could be a series."

"Fuck," Kate whispers. "Fuck."

Rich boys can be serial killers, too, Dany had said, in that hotel, on that day that feels like a life time ago.

That day when Dany had hit it up with Peyton Montgomery for the first time.

Because of Kate.

With a shaking hand, Kate fishes for her box of cigarettes and pulls one out with her lips.

"We... we should tell the big boss, you know," Nora says. "She's his kid."

"She is my boss," Kate says around the cigarette, free hand angrily clicking her lighter, until finally a tiny flame shows up. "She handles this her way. It's her call."

"Sure, yeah," Nora doesn't sound convinced. If she's honest, Kate isn't, either. "Just... Keep her safe."

From the stage, Dany's gaze searches for Kate's, a familiar feeling under Kate's skin, that she's perfectly attuned to. In a tiny gesture, Dany points a finger towards the parking lot. They're leaving. Heliport, then board meeting. Kate knows Dany's schedule by heart. She throws away the unsmoked cigarette. She's got to pull herself together. She's good at her job. She makes no mistakes. Not ever again.

12 minute drive. 19 minutes heli ride. 120 minutes board.

Murder. Could be a series.

Dany jumps down from the stage, a perfect display; casual, healthy, confident. She shakes some hands, gives out some polite phrases and sincere smiles, while Kate falls into step by her side.

"Everything alright, K?" Dany asks over her shoulder. "You look like something happened. You need a break?"

For a moment, Kate hates her.

"It's about you." She leans in and lowers her voice. "The gala."

Dany's perfect composure rips, just for a second. Her steps turn shaky, her jaw tenses and Kate sees the eyes of the harbormaster widen when Dany's polite handshake turns into a vice-like hold. "Sorry," Dany whispers and lets go, patting his upper arm. "I must've tripped over my own feet there, I'm fine."

The man retreats with a frown, and Dany spins back to Kate.

"That didn't happen," she hisses. "It's over."

"It's not," Kate says, "There's been a murder."

Dany pales, and Kate hates herself for the flare of smug satisfaction at Dany's sudden imperfection. "Who?"

"Talk in the car," Kate says. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Dany nods, her face shifting back into her casual smile. By her side, she's clutching her phone in her hand. She's pulled up a contact already, photo of a hand casually holding a drink, in the background a plain white shirt, the jawline of a man's smiling face.

Is supposed to be anonymous, but Kate knows exactly who the man on that photo is.

Peyton Montgomery.

Kate scoffs.

Dany Hammond is much less perfect than she wants herself to be.

#just a fling au #Dany Hammond #Kate tabai #implied past noncon #bad coping mechanisms

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llittletingoddess · 1 month

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WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW 🥀

«When the night comes, the stars begin to shine and the greatest crimes begin to come into life»

part 2 of multiply

°•○ warnings: age gap, slow burn, original character, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of abduction, manipulation, abuse, national hate, politics mention, discrimination

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

II. Too Far Gone?

Moscow, Russia

Leah sat in the dark room, watching her boss playing with papers. What was interesting in lots of documents? She always thought it was pretty boring, like bureaucracy at all. Why do they need to make everything way more complicated than it actually was? Instead of just giving an answer, your application should’ve been passed through at least three different departments. She stared at the grey-haired man signing some papers, stamping others - and giving not a single word about what he wanted from her.

“Konstantin”, Leah finally went out of her patience, kicking his table with her boot to make him pay attention to her. “Ya zhe znayu, zachem ya zdes'. Zachem ty tyanesh vremya? (I know why I'm here. Why are you wasting time?)”, she asked him with a cold tone, looking under her brows. She was a beast in a cage and he knew it. He always made her wait. Konstantin Vasiliev was too much into his friends and money than in the people who did the dirty work. Especially that stubborn American that thought she was special. Pathetic little bitch that was getting too good and too dangerous. Konstantin looked at Leah under his brows and sighed loudly, his facial expression showing all the contempt he had for her. Even if she would support everything russian and speak their language - they would still treat her like an American - an enemy, Pentagon’s spy and obviously connected to LGBTQ+.

He left one more sign on the papers and leaned on his chair, crossing his arms and looking at Leah. “Ya ne obyazan otchytivatsya pered toboy, Leah. Tvoya zadacha - ubivat', a ne vmeshivatsya v dela tvoey kormyashchey ruki (I don't have to answer to you, Leah. Your task is to kill, not to interfere with the affairs of your feeding hand.)”, he said with a husky voice and reached for his table to take a pack of surprisingly cheap cigarettes for such a rich man - old-fashioned Soviet “Prima” in a red box. He lit it up with a way more expensive lighter - probably a gift - and leaned back on his squeaky chair, smirking to his guest. Leah hated him… she should have been obedient to a man with Soviet standards and a heavy hand.

“The Wild Rose..”, Konstantin chuckled. He did this all the time he saw Leah in his cabinet. She didn’t understand what was so funny about her nickname. Truthfully, she loved it - it perfectly described her. Bennett was loved by her soft appearance but she has thorns that could kill someone who will reach too close. That’s why she never had a real lover. She was afraid that she would hurt her loved one with skeletons in her closet and preferred to stay alone, never letting her feelings be victorious. “It’s time”, Konstantin continued, placing a Los Angeles postcard on his desk.

Leah gasped, looking at the colourful postcard of the west coast view. She can finally go home.. Breathe the salty air and see smiling people everywhere. She sighed in relief, pulling the postcard closer with her finger and turned it, looking for hints. In the right corner she saw a logo which made her hum. “Blackened LTD..”, she hummed, thinking what it could mean for her. Would the victim be some big boss or she’d need to destroy this business?

“My bosses want you to kill the president of this company”, Konstantin said with a strong russian accent, lazily smoking his cigarette. He didn’t care how she would do it at all. “His name is James Hetfield and he decided to play some tricks with us. But you will show him that he better not mess with russians”, Konstantin continued, getting up from his seat. He slowly walked around Leah, watching her looking at the postcard and grabbed her neck, slightly choking her. “And it affects you too. If you’ll try to do something against the plan you will be dead with him, american bitch”, he said with a harsh voice, letting Leah’s neck off.

Bennett coughed, rubbing her neck and stared at Konstantin with contempt. He’s not even her main boss and he hated her so much, then what The chain thought about her? If only she could’ve done something against them.. But what could she do? They stole everything from her to use her like a puppet - her documents, her life, her whole personality and they didn’t plan to stop. Leah travelled on her missions with a fake ID, each time it was different, but she couldn’t live like that. She didn’t want to have someone’s name or life, she wanted to be herself, she needed to be herself.

Konstantin hummed in her silence, exhaling a big cloud of smoke with a smell of cheap tobacco before he sat back on his seat. “You won’t even say a word?”, he asked curiously, staring at Leah. She sighed, turning the postcard in her hands and looked at her boss with a cold look. “How much?”, she asked, laying the postcard back on Konstantine’s desk. He smirked and nodded, definitely liking Leah’s cheeky question. “Five. If you will do everything quietly and clearly they are ready to double the price. Your main task is to kill him quickly-”, “..and make everything to make tabloids think it was an accident and there is no Russia’s hand”, Bennett ended quickly instead of Vasiliev, making him chuckle. “Yes, you know everything, Leah. Do the job - and money is yours. They are believing in you, better not lose such big support on your side”, he advised her, relaxing on his chair.

Deep inside Leah knew that Konstantin didn’t care. She was just pretty useful for him and his friends, and his “advice” is nothing more than a cheap lie. After years of working under his guidance Leah learned that man. All he ever cared about was his dog, a german shepherd named Rem. He had his photo on his desk, told about his achievements and how he would kill his enemies using them. Somehow Leah found it pretty cute. “Khorosho (Alright)”, she said, taking the postcard in her bag. “When is my flight?”, she asked, watching Konstantine throwing his cigarette in the ashtray. He exhaled the smoke and sighed, coughing from the nicotine in his lungs. “Tomorrow at 4AM. You’ll get your ID in your post box”, he said emotionlessly, watching Leah get up. “You have three days for your flights and the kill, The Wild Rose”, Konstantin said with a chuckle. Bennett kept her face; Will this ever end? She sighed and nodded. “Not a big deal”, she said, walking to the door. Vasiliev held the door closed for a moment, looking at Marie with a warning look. “And don’t forget, Leah.. you’re working on Russia. Every American deserves to die, every one of them. But you’re not like this. I can guarantee Russian citizenship after this kill if you’re gonna be an obedient girl”, he said seriously, taking his hand off the door. “Do vstrechy cherez tri dnya (See you in three days)”, Leah said reluctantly, leaving her boss’ office. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief, a short smile appearing on her face. It was her chance.. One last chance to break her chains and escape this russian nightmare she spent years in. She will kill that stupid businessman and disappear from Russian radar, once and forever. She had enough money to buy herself a villa somewhere on the quiet island, far away from criminal’s eyes and start to live her life like she always wanted to. She would probably change her name, appearance and body to make everyone forget about her existence. She will never be Leah Bennett anymore.. Leah Bennett will die as a stray dog in three days and someone new will be born instead.

She walked out of the office that was hidden in the mall and sighed. Leah was so excited.. Definitely not an option that she will miss.. She put on her headphones, turned on her favourite heavy metal album and hid her smile, walking out from the building. Russians didn’t like your smile. If you’re smiling it means that you’re most likely a psychopath or under the drugs, and society will bully you easily. Bennett switched her looks with an attractive guy in the crowd and put on her hood, making herself invisible in the crowd.

Who knows what all these people think of her.. Leah was curious - was at least one suggestion right? Probably they thought she was some hipster girl from the block or some shy girl walking from her workout? Maybe a hopeless romantic or a geek? If only they would know who Leah Bennett was.. a heartless killer who murdered her parents, hid from police, had some serious net connection with the government and was a slave for some big russian men.. Leah sighed from the thought but kept her head up. It will end in a few days.. She might not end the national hate but she will save herself from being the victim of russian nationalism. She walked down to the underground tunnel and leaned onto the wall, waiting for her train to come. Life has given her an opportunity to change something and Leah wanted to squeeze everything out of it. She was too far gone and she needed to be saved.

***

Los Angeles, California

James felt himself on cloud nine when he saw all his friends celebrating him. He was so confident after his little victory when he fooled everyone in the Russian monopoly, giving free access to their people secretly. Some promotion from russian bloggers, advertisements in the popular social networks and voila - his music platform got almost ten million new followers! And thankfully, most of them bought a premium subscription.

Of course he would’ve made it that far! Why would he do this one clean? It was obvious that he’d go another way. Business was all about the audience and this move made James get a confident and powerful position on the Russian market. He was so damn proud and he threw a party to celebrate his success. Whilst his partners read the contract - James already made money behind their backs, smiling them to their faces and shaking their hands.

And what surprised him the most - there was no reaction! His actions were rough and fast, so they most likely were caught by surprise. Was it bad? James didn’t think so. Instead, it was his chance to show them that Americans aren’t that dumb as they thought they were. Turns out, the real losers here were Russians who missed such a big hit in their balls. Scary Russians aren’t that scary anymore. They are dumb. Grumpy, dumb and have no critical mind to prevent such attacks on his industry. Maybe their president had, but not the ones that were responsible for the music market.

“Congratulations, buddy, it’s a big hit! Blackened rules the whole world now!”, Lars, his fellow buddy said. He was all the way there back in time. If it wasn’t Lars James might never make it in the business. They met each other in their teenage days, when James just tried his luck in music, teaching guitar playing and just thought about having a music market. Truthfully, it was Lars who pushed him to act. James smiled, hugging him and nodded. “It is. Ten million followers from Russia, this is incredible!”, he said, being visibly surprised by the results of his cheeky campaign. He looked around, looking for his wife and sighed, watching her flirting with some guy in the crowd. And who needs love when you have money? James made his choice and for now - he wasn’t too needy in being loved. Why would he? A couple of Benjamin’s can always solve this problem.

Lars sipped his drink, looking in the same way James did. He didn’t say a word about what he saw, giving James some space for his personal life. “And what if they will react?”, Lars asked him, watching James’ wife sitting on the lap of the guy. Hetfield hummed with a smirk. “They better think about how to get back their audience. Our conditions are too comfortable for such a poor country as Russia. We have every big star’s music catalogues, and what do they have? Some stolen songs and demos? It’s they who have problems, not us”, James said with a sassy tone, finishing his drink in one shot. Lars hummed, watching him with a judging look. Lars might be younger than James and he wasn’t such a big man like James (in all meanings), but there was something in this man that always surprised him - and that’s his ability to think two steps earlier.

“You’re too calm”, he said seriously, asking the waiter for another shot of whiskey. James looked at him with a questionable look whilst watching for the amber-coloured drink to be poured in the glass, covering the crystal clean ice cube. Lars grabbed his glass and turned to James, staring at him. “You might think that they are fools, but look at the political situation. They don’t hesitate to kill their own people, so you think they will stop because of a wealthy man from America?”, he asked, looking at Hetfield. “No money will save you if they will decide to have their revenge, James. Think about it”,

James hummed, looking at his buddy. Truthfully, his words made sense at some point. He sipped his drink, gently spinning it in his glass and sighed, watching his wife coming closer to them. She took off her wedding ring from her fingers and placed it in James’ glass. “Can you keep it for me please? Thank you”, she smiled, walking back to the guy she definitely enjoyed more than James’ company. He chuckled, looking at the shiny ring in his glass, taking it away and looked at Lars. “If they would have wanted to kill me, they would’ve done it ages ago. But as you see - I’m still alive, still with you all and still the owner of the biggest music heist in history”, he said with a grin, taking a cigar from his pocket to enjoy.

“But now - it makes zero sense”, James said confidently, lighting up his cigar. “First of all, this is gonna be too suspicious for them, don’t you think so? We will announce the increase of price on our stocks and then the next day they will do something with me? They are dumb, but even Russians are clever enough to avoid such suspicious actions”, James assured his buddy with a relaxing tone, enjoying how nicotine poisoned his lungs. “It’s gonna be a big scandal if they do it. We are all approaching the third World War.. and my neutralisation is gonna be one more step to the start. I bet my wife that they won’t do anything about it”, James said with a grin, watching his significant other being caressed by the guy in the crowd.

Lars frowned, definitely disliking his friend’s point of view. He shook his head, sipping his whiskey and tapped on the glass, thinking. He was sure that James wouldn't listen to him or even won’t take his words as advice, so he needed a plan B. Just in case he will be right and James’ ass will need some protection. It happened pretty rare but sometimes he needed help, though he never admitted it. James was from that type of man that would never admit their mistakes - just like it was happening with his wife on his own eyes. He watched her cheating with a stone cold look and joked that she looked better from the side. Lars didn’t understand why he acted so light-headed with important decisions, but he knew that deep inside, under this shell of a successful man James hid his feelings from the world.

Soon James took him back to reality with his sweet chuckle, making Lars look up at him and at the direction he looked at. “What’s up?”, he asked him with a confused tone, though he definitely was curious what could make a rich man laugh. Was he drunk? Did he meet a nice chick to spend his night with? His wife wasn’t made for this anyway.. “Have you seen how much Blackened raised in price after a new wave of customers?”, he said with a grin, pointing into the screen of his phone, on the little graph with a green line that rises up incredibly high. Lars whistled, looking at the price. “Wow. Is it after Russia?”, he questioned, making James nod. “I think we need to celebrate it. Remind me to call my assistant and organise a meeting in honour of our success. Maybe in three days? Gonna be nice”, James thought with a corporate grin he used for his diplomatic meetings. He was so damn proud of himself.. Finally, after years of hard work it took a big risky step to reach the top of this monopoly game. Was he too far gone? Oh damn he was, but how good it felt to watch everyone fail in their attempts to get as high as he was. “We need to announce the new Russian department and increase the salary of that SMM guy. He did his job really well”, James said with a happy smirk, texting his assistant.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

#🥀#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fanfic #where the wild roses grow #vicky's writings

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motomamita · 2 years

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Girls bite back.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Bold!Female!Reader!

Summary: The most annoying girl in school flirts with Eddie. (y/n), his girlfriend, invites her to fight after school.

Warnings: Mentions of blood.

A/N: English is NOT my first language.

Based on 'Class Fight' by Melanie Martinez and on the blogs from @snivellusslunchbox and @grimmbunniee .

Do not copy or translate this!

Friday. Classes ended for this week and the excitement in the students of Hawkins High School was not exactly because of that.

The doorbell rang and everyone hurried to put their things away. The corridors were filled with murmurs, everyone talking about the same topic. The fight.

The parking lot filled up quickly and everyone's attention was focused on the girl leaning on the hood of the white convertible. Smoking a cigarette surrounded by her friends and her boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

"You don't need to do this, love." Eddie reminded her, who hugged her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Munson." Gareth complained.

"I'm not, idiot. I just don't want her to get hurt." He explained hugging her tighter.

"See it as a form of affection from me." (y/n) blew cigarette smoke out of his mouth and nose.

To put you in context we have to go 5 days back.

On Monday (y/n) sat as usual at the 'freaks' table, as they were called throughout the school. Eddie had reserved her place next to him, a place that no one but her should occupy.

Their relationship began as a friendship governed by their common interests. (y/n) was a neighbor of Gareth Emerson, she used to go to his house to watch him play the drums and smoke behind their parents. One afternoon, Eddie showed up with his guitar and they soon hit it off as they were both wearing the same Iron Maiden t-shirt. They would go out to eat in the woods and listen to their favorite songs. Eddie would soon find out about one of (y/n's) hobbies: boxing and drawing. She herself would create the 'Hellfire Club' logo with the help of Eddie. Some time later, (y/n) received a letter from Gareth asking her to come to his house to listen to their first song as a group. Upon arrival, the boys played a song written by Eddie where he asked her to be her boyfriend. Obviously she accepted.

From the outside, they were the strangest couple on the planet. They both wore mostly dark clothing and listened to bands that were too heavy for the general public's taste. He was the leader of a 'satanic cult' and she was too 'manly' for box and wore darker eyeliner than the other girls. It wasn't long before the bullies at school began to see and treat them like crazy.

(y/n)'s eyes met Kelly Howard, the most basic and insufferable girl in high school. With the attitude of a queen bee, a shrill voice and believing that for her parents' money she had the right to do and say anything, especially about the 'freaks'. Kelly murmured something to her other friends, equal or worse than her, and then laughed out loud as if they had just made the funniest joke in the world. (y/n) shook her head, used to the taunts and glares from that particular group.

She was about to eat lunch when the murmuring began again. This time it wasn't about her, but about Eddie. (y/n) instantly recognized their looks. They were not contempt, but desire. Kelly bit her lower lip as Eddie began to play with his ring while chatting animatedly with Dustin Henderson. The moment he got up from his seat to throw his food in the trash, their attention was drawn to his butt showing through his black jeans.

'Look at that ass.' It was what (y/n) manages to read from Kelly's lips, who set out to touch her hair coquettishly while the other girls around her agreed.

During that day (y/n) tried not to think again about that strange moment lived in the cafeteria. Possibly her eyes saw wrong or were referring to Mike Wheeler, not his beloved Eddie. Why after so long would she notice him? Why specifically him? Eddie was the kind of guy they made fun of, didn't want. It was impossible for them to notice him, especially Kelly.

Until Tuesday came.

(y/n) left the gym at Starcourt, where boxing entered. It was customary that at the exit, in the parking lot, Eddie would wait for her in his truck and they would go to eat at a bar that his uncle had recommended.

She walked through the parking lot and in the distance she saw the Eddie truck parked. (y/n) moved closer to the surprise that he wasn't alone. Kelly was there too. She was wearing a bright yellow gym leotard that looked 2 sizes too small. She was sitting in the driver's seat of the truck and had an ice cream in one of her hands, running her tongue over it provocatively. Eddie was leaning against the door, his arms crossed and nervously biting his lip.

Upon reaching them the boy's eyes lit up while Kelly couldn't hide her annoyance.

"Hi love." (y/n) turned to Eddie, who greeted her with a kiss on the lips.

"I missed you." He murmured to her for help with his gaze.

(y/n) looked at Kelly, the girl's face changed into a smile and fake emotion.

"Your boyfriend is sooo sweet. Be careful i might steal him from you." Kelly teased with her irritating tone of voice. "Instead of looking for you, he's going to start looking for me."

"Yes? I doubt it." It was the only thing (y/n) answered, biting her tongue and doing her best not to fall for the provocations.

Kelly got out of the car and stood in front of Eddie, who kept his head down the entire time.

"I get out of yoga class at 7pm. You know, I prefer girls' sports." She then ran her tongue through the mint ice cream and then placed it in Eddie's hand and walked away as if nothing had happened, ignoring (y/n).

Wednesday came with unpleasant surprises for the couple, especially for (y/n).

Robin Buckley, a friend of both, met with (y/n) in the bathrooms of the school to talk and skip his history class.

"Kelly sat behind Eddie today in biology." Robin sat on the sink while (y/n) write insults on the door of one of the bathrooms.

"What a surprise." She commented sarcastically.

"She and another girl started flirting with him. About whether he was a guitarist and that they had heard they did finger magic." Robin continued.

A half smile formed on the face of (y/n) knowing what they were referring to. The rumors were true, guitar players are very good with their hands.

"The Kelly touched his hair and even put a little of her spray on it to make it softer or I don't know what the fuck."

"I'll have to set Eddie's hair on fire then." She joked trying to put another spirit to the situation even if jealousy got the best of her.

"She insisted on going to band practice and being their muse but Eddie refused." 'Good boy' thought (y/n). "In the same way, it seems that she is going to continue insisting."

"Mmm." (y/n) continued to write with great concentration on the door.

"Are you going to do something about it?" Robin walked over to her and read aloud what (y/n) was writing on the door. " 'Kelly Howard is the nastiest shank bitch i've ever met. Do not trust her' " The short-haired girl let out a laugh that echoed throughout the bathroom. "I didn't know you were so good at poetry."

"I'm going to give her time. If she doesn't walk away, I'll give her a good reason to."

Thursday.

(y/n) was walking through the corridors towards the cafeteria after having helped Eleven Hopper with some designs for her school work. The cafeteria was full like every other day, luckily there was always a place reserved for her at the 'freaks' table, or so she believed until that day.

Kelly was taking her place next to Eddie, who was looking at her with wide eyes and a hand covering his mouth, his typical expression of discomfort and nervousness. Gareth and the other guys from the Hellfire Club were huddled at the other end of the table, trying to get as far away from the girl who wouldn't stop talking as possible.

"You have to be kidding me." She whispered walking towards them with a soda can in her hand.

"(y/n)! Good thing you came! Kelly was saving your spot." Eddie quickly got up from his seat, eager for the girl to go away and stop flirting with him.

"No, that's not true. From now on I'll be part of your club!" She exclaimed shrilly looking at everyone at the table. "Eddie offered to give me private lessons on his little game." Kelly grabbed his hand, pulling him back into his seat.

"Dungeons and Dragons is too complex a game for you to understand, Kelly." The boys laughed, including Eddie. "Now get up from my seat." She said with no patience.

Kelly clenched her jaw and didn't look away from the girl. Howard wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Oh! You're right, this is not my seat." Kelly got up and then sat on Eddie's lap, who groaned and raised his hands unintentionally to touch her. "THIS is my seat."

(y/n)'s blood boiled. Her heart began to beat hard and her mind was disconnected for a few seconds, processing what happened. Her hand that was carrying the soda can closed so hard with hatred that it ended up breaking, wetting the floor with the liquid. The guys at the table backed away even further knowing things could get ugly. And they did.

(y/n) threw her backpack to the ground and, in a quick movement, grabbed Kelly by the hair throwing her to the ground. The loud noise caught the attention of everyone in the cafeteria, including the teachers. When (y/n) wanted to approach the girl on the ground she was stopped by Eddie's strong arms, who lifted her by the waist and pushed her away. Two teachers approached Kelly, who began to fake cry and scream how crazy and psychotic (y/n) was.

At the end of the day (y/n) was suspended for that week. However, everyone felt that this would not stop the girl from taking revenge on the other.

Now, getting back to where we left off.

"Are you sure they can't expel you?" Robin asked, surprised by the amount of people that gathered.

"No. What happens after those doors has nothing to do with high school."

Kelly and her friends appeared from the crowd. The color in the girl's face was lost when she saw the group leaning on her expensive car. A smile appeared on (y/n)'s face, who instantly noticed the insecurity in Howard's walk. Some students took out their video cameras and turned them on, beginning to film the meeting. (y/n) finished her cigarette and smashed it into Kelly's car, messing up the paint.

"Hey! That's my car!" She complained almost screaming from the middle of the parking lot, not daring to move forward.

"What? Kelly, darling, I can't hear you!" (y/n) replied in the same way shaking her head. "Why don't you come a little closer?"

Kelly looked concerned at her friends who shook their heads in fear. (y/n) let out a laugh that was followed by some students who gradually began to side with the 'freak'.

"Don't worry, I'll come to you!"

Immediately Kelly's friends ran to hide in the crowd leaving her friend alone. (y/n) got up from the hood, Eddie took advantage and slapped her on the ass.

"How it turns me on to see her angry." He muttered with a mischievous smile on his face.

The girl reached Kelly, leaving a meter of distance between them. (y/n) placed her hands behind her, staring at her opponent who kept moving in place.

"My father is going to know about this! He's friends with the sheriff! They're going to put you in prison!" She blurted out with a combination of anger and fear.

"Oh yeah? So my friend has super powers and blows up cars with her mind." (y/n) answered amused. "Come on, Kelly! They can't put me in prison just for talking to you, right!?" She addressed the public, who supported her entertained by the talk. "We're just going to talk." She took a step forward, Kelly took one back.

The people around her began to gather closer, leaving Kelly no room to run or hide from (y/n) who seemed to remain calm.

Kelly desperately searched through her things until she pulled out a craft scissors and pointed it at the girl in front of her.

"Take one more step and I'm going to hurt you, 'freak'." She yelled angrily while holding the object tightly.

"Are you going to stab me with round-nose scissors?" She asked with false surprise that made the people around her laugh. "You're definitely not very smart, Howard."

"But I'm prettier than you!" She defended herself taking everyone by surprise. "I dress better, I have a better body. I DO have a future."

"Physique isn't everything, Kelly.."

"Not for you, but for the boys." (y/n) moved her head slightly to the side, attentive to the girl's words. "You don't know how happy they are to come home and have a body like mine in their bed."

A series of whistles and dirty compliments began to be heard as Kelly posed in her place proud of her fit body

"So, you're objectifying yourself." Kelly frowned, not understanding the word. "You're only valuing yourself for how you look. Too bad..." (y/n) began to get even more annoyed by the stupid expression on the girl's face.

"You see it how you want, 'freak'. I see it as a card so I can get any guy I want."

(y/n) raised an eyebrow, knowing where the conversation was going. She looked back over her shoulder and saw her friends who gave her a thumbs up in support. Eddie bit his nails nervously and worried that his girl would get hurt not physically but emotionally.

"Let me tell you. One more day was enough and I would have had Eddie Munson in my bed."

Kelly couldn't see (y/n)'s face at her words because her fist got in the way. The girl staggered in place, dropping her things and reaching her hands out for support. People began to shout euphorically because of the perfect blow she had given.

"Now tell me, Kelly. Your parents must have enough money to pay for another rhinoplasty right? Because you're going to need it."

Another punch came out but this time in the direction of Kelly's nose. The girl fell to the ground, touching her bleeding nose and screaming in pain.

"Tell me you're sorry." (y/n) placed her legs on either side of the girl's body, looking down at her.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried without the courage to look her in the face.

"And promise me that neither you nor your lap dogs will ever come near MY guy or me again."

"We're not going to bother him again, I swear, I swear!"

They all laughed at Kelly's tears and cries. Deep down nobody could stand her, not even her 'friends'. That is why the happiness of seeing her humiliated was not only for the 'freaks' but also for everyone around her.

(y/n) took a few steps back with the intention of leaving and ending the matter there. However, she approached the girl again to tell her one last thing.

"Boxing is for girls too. Girls bite back, Kelly."

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson

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bearsandcigars · 2 years

Text

The Cigar Test

By bearsandcigars (July 2022) A young man finds his perfect CigarDaddy and more …

I turned off the main street, busy with Saturday afternoon shoppers; fixing my gaze on one particular store, halfway down the quiet lane. Striding out, I approached Thompson’s. Their shop sign logo was a stylised T; a vertical, sloping lit cigar and horizontal grey smoke flowing from the foot. A clever design, I thought. I distracted myself from butterflies flapping in my belly … this was no usual visit to the store. Checking my watch … fuck! two minutes to seven … maybe I should have arrived earlier. Before I knew it, I arrived at the entrance. The door opened ahead of me by the owner, Fred Thompson, who greeted me with a broad smile. - ‘Come in son, glad you decided to take up my invitation’’ His welcome was warm; a strong hand grasped my left shoulder, guiding me in through the threshold. - ‘Thanks Fred, I’ve been really looking forward to coming’ - ‘Oh that’s VERY good to hear, son’

Entering the old fashioned smoking emporium, all my senses on overdrive, as usual. The now familiar aged, dark wood shelves with large jars full of different pipe tobacco mixtures, cigarettes and sundry smokers’ paraphernalia. The large walk-in humidor, with rows of premium cigars in open boxes, all needing my serious investigation. The splendid smoking lounge at the back, where I’d recently started to chat with some fantastic cigar smoking guys. Previously, I’d skulk in a corner; avoiding conversation in case I embarrassed myself discussing cigars. I soon realised it was a very social experience and the men there were more than willing to chat with me. The sweet and spicy scents of tobacco, leather and wood, permeated the place. This wonderful smell had a strong affect on me; influencing my recent choices. Instinctively, I inhaled it all. Turning around, I realised Fred had been watching me intently. It felt so right being here, right now. - ‘I love this place Fred’ He gave a quick cheeky wink. - ‘Let me just close up first son … leave your denim jacket on the counter’ I couldn’t help but beam with delight at being called ‘son’, by my mentor.

I discovered from my lounge chats that Fred was 54; 28 years older than me. He was tall and brawny, standing a couple of inches more than my 5’9” but my lesser body made me feel smaller. I looked up to Fred in so many ways. His invaluable experience; my trusted guide into the world of cigars. A guide and in recent weeks, a confidante; he was a father figure to me. Of course he was as hot as hell too; rugged, tanned features, bald, with a groomed silver grey beard and hypnotic, steely blue eyes. He dressed smartly in a white collared shirt, short sleeved, showing off his bronzed, muscular arms. The shirt chest pocket was monogrammed with the cigar ‘T’ logo … greying chest hair burst out from the open V of his unbuttoned shirt. He looked like an archetypal DaddyBear but Fred was no stereotype. In my eyes there was no one like him. I lusted after him … and he knew it!

The glazed door was now secure; bolted top and bottom, with a burgundy blind pulled down, blocking out any view from the lane. As we made small talk about my journey, Fred strolled behind the shop counter, picking up a smouldering cigar he’d left. Inspecting it, drawing, bringing the foot back to life. A cloud of aromatic smoke drifted behind him, as he walked towards me. - ‘So I suppose you want to see some cigars Ben’ Fred stood staring into my eyes … - ‘Fuck man! you’re so handsome son … COME HERE!’ Drawing on his chunky cigar, he clutched the back of my neck; pulled me in and our lips locked. Kissing in a tight embrace, as I hungrily accepted the smoke passed to my mouth. We released and I let out a low sigh, exhaling the smoke back at him. - ‘That’s my boy! You’re special’ - ‘Thanks Fred, I’ve wanted that to happen for weeks’ - ‘I know son’ I pursed my lips, blowing a big kiss across the hazy space between us. Fred lovingly caressed my brown beard; his thumb gently rubbing over my furry cheek, fingers stroking through my buzz cut. These sensuous seconds causing me to adjust my stance as my crotch awoke. Fred playfully gave my cheek two quick slaps from his large hand. - ‘OK son, let’s find stogies’ - ‘Yes please Fred’ With an arm around my shoulder, he left his cigar in an ashtray and led me into the walk-in humidor. Immediately my eyes darted up and down, side to side. Taking in glorious cigar boxes, with exquisite, colourful designs. Row upon row of wondrous naked cigars. Punch … Montecristo … Cohiba … Arturo Fuente … Macanudo … Davidoff …

Fred gave a fantastic cigar master class. He articulated with flair and enthusiasm all that was to be known about cigar composition. Their wrappers, binders and fillers, flavours, colors, shapes and sizes. A tremendous adviser to the best cigars available. I’d smoked machine-made cigars for a couple of years, so my tastes had significantly improved in recent months, smoking quality handmade cigars. It was clear Fred Thompson fervently pursued a lifestyle around the finest things in life, a connoisseur, an aficionado … a bon viveur. Fred wanted me to have that joy too. My inexperience made me balk at asking questions when I started to shop at Thompson’s. My heart raced seeing Fred alone and free behind the sales counter with no customers. I’d make a beeline for him, though more often than not, as I became a regular, he was the one calling me over to chat. His assistant, Kenny, was in his early 30s; a gorgeous furry Bear with a thick black beard but it was the mature DaddyBear that put me more at ease. Whilst I saw myself as a naive amateur, Fred enthused about my development and growing maturity. I was ready to be the sorcerer's apprentice.

Throughout his spiel, my sexy tutor was very touchy-feely; I revelled in every nudge, prod and poke. Fred grasped my hand; pulling me brusquely towards a ‘must see’ box of cigars … then gently rubbing my back as I bent over to examine something new and amazing … patting my rear, as I recalled knowledge he’d taught me. - ‘Well done … my pupil will soon be a cigar aficionado’ I beamed back at Fred, with a yearning desire to make him proud.

Fred directed me to a slightly worn brown leather bucket chair in the middle of the humidor. - ‘Sit down Ben, we’re going to try a little experiment … nothing too scientific but definitely compelling … SO! here we go … show me your cock! …’ - ‘OH!! … OK …’ I replied, bemused. Although I had little idea where this was going, right now, I’d do anything for my seductive DaddyBear. I was emboldened to cooperate with Fred’s intriguing test. With his flirtatious encouragement, I swiftly stripped out of my 501s and boxers. - ‘You DO know I’m just a dirty old pervert’, he said with a deep wicked laugh. I was left wearing, just my black polo shirt and naked from the waist down. Boldly manspreading in front of my salacious tutor, who obviously savored the sight of my cock and balls displayed down the front of the seat. Fred casually licked across the edge of his thick moustache, back and forth. - ‘Alright, so let’s test that lovely cock’s ability to pick out your favorite stogie’ Fred lifted a small wooden box and moved behind my chair, out of my view; apparently picking some cigars. Pulling a footstool over by my right side, he sat low to me, mulling over the collection of cigars he’d chosen. - ‘RIGHT! Let’s do this … hands FIRMLY on the chair arms son … no fucking touching yourself. … don’t let me even see you look at that cock! … keep your eyes UP and focus forward’ I did as I was told, as the first cigar came up into my view. It looked like a light brown corona. - ‘We’ll start with cigar wrappers.’ Fred explained that he’d hold each cigar in front of me for about 10 seconds. - ‘This is an Ashton Classic Magnum 5x50, a robusto with a blond Connecticut wrapper … this brand is the epitome of cigar sophistication … the flavors range through coffee, nutmeg, cedar and pepper’,

The cigar moved down from my gaze, then slowly, sensuously, I felt the cigar being stroked up and down the length of my uncut penis and over the head, then under on to my balls and back again. It became clear this would be a test of my senses and a measure of my gratification. - ‘Oh I LIKE that Fred’ - ‘Mmmm son … a nice reaction there …

- ‘OK son, the next one is a full bodied La Gloria Cubana Serie R 6x50 … with a bold, piquant flavor.’

The cigar was almost black, an oscuro and looked awesome. A strong urge came over me to have this dark fat corona on my cock. - ‘That’s sick Fred’ - ‘Oh fuck yeah … wonderful … I’ve got your cock twitching now son’, delighting my mentor as he used the LGC like a magic wand on my dancing dick. I casually confessed it’s a cool cigar; belying my building excitement and arousal.

Another two cigars … - ‘Now Ben, these are made by the same company but they’re different sizes’ The cigar that came up first was a slightly bigger ring gauge. Fred announced this one was a Punch Gusto Tubo 5x52. - ‘Spicy, peppery, a slightly sweet and wood finish’

I wanted it in my jaw and could feel my cock stiffen as Fred again caressed it up and down my eager phallus. - ‘That’s fucking sexy Fred’ - ‘Oh YES! that one’s certainly getting your attention I see … now the next one is the same ring gauge Ben, but longer.’ Fred held up a Punch Presidente 8.5x52 between his fingers and thumb. - ‘Bold, full-bodied taste. Strong without being overpowering; an elegant smoke.’

This was clearly a big statement cigar for an in-charge dominant man. The power from it felt palpable. A Daddy smoking this majestic giant could have my ass as he desired. My engorged cock jerked upwards. - ‘Fucking AWESOME Fred’ I breathily declared. - ‘Oh SWEET! so what’s in that dirty mind son?’ I could feel pre-cum dribbling down from my cock head Fred smirked, watching me blush, as he rose up off the footstool. - ‘Now still keep your paws off that cock!’ he demanded. I was loving this and I wasn’t going to disobey him. Behind me it was clear, clothes were being discarded onto the floor. My pulse quickened, my mind thrilled, thinking of Fred’s big beefy body. Two powerful furry arms slid slowly down either side of my chest. En route, two pairs of fingers and thumbs gave sharp tweaks to my proud nipples protruding under my black polo shirt. - ‘Let’s have this off’ My top came up and over my head, discarded onto the floor … leaving me completely naked. Frustratingly, Fred remained behind me.

- ‘Right my sexy Cigarboy, let me see what you make of this one.’ Another cigar came into sight. A FUCKING MONSTER. Long, fat and dark. - ‘This is an Asylum 13 Super Goliath 8x80 … flavors are pepper, coffee, nuts, cocoa and earth’

- ‘HOLY FUCK FRED!!’

I literally gulped; taking in the incredible sight of a behemoth cigar, I’d only even seen in photos. Fred fondled my left shoulder seductively, as the enormous cigar brushed over my thick brown beard, awaking latent erotic fantasies and licentious behaviour.

He whispered closely into my ear … - ‘You act like you’re a good boy, don’t you? … but we both know that’s not the case … you’re on your computer jacking off for hours, looking at sexy photos and porn videos of older DaddyBears, playing and smoking with their cubs; haulin’ heavily on their huge Asylum 13 … Daddy spits on his hand, flicks long, thick ash onto his palm … wraps his fist around your throbbing, swollen cock … slowly stroking it with spit & ash the only lube … Daddy fingers working your asshole, seeking out your prostate … he’s biting and chewing your nips son … he might even give you his piss if you’re a lucky boy … and soon your Daddy is pounding your hole … so hard son, he’s rough … and feeding you rich smoke into your greedy mouth … you want it fucking ALL … don’t you son? … your dripping cock tells me your dirty mind is just like Daddy’s … you’re not a good boy you’re a VERY naughty boy!’ he mocked. - ‘OH YES DADDY!!’

Fred teased me by pushing the cigar head briefly over my lips, like some massive tobacco penis, then taking it swiftly back, before I could grip it. The giant cigar snaked its way down my furry chest, rubbing over both my proud nipples and down on my belly button. Fred finally came around the leather chair; tanned, muscular and NAKED. He had a Celtic cross and lion rampant tattoo on his left arm, proud of his Scottish heritage. Bending down, his cigar hand circled my cock, over my bush of pubic hair then under my hard erect penis, propping it up, Fred raised my cock up with the insanely large cigar. - ‘Oh SON, this is definitely the one, isn’t it’ -‘YES YES YES YES …’

Impulsively dry humping the chair, my arousal was on fire, sliding my ass back and forth on the seat, rubbing my cock and balls against the leather. Pre-cum lubricating carnal urges. I looked down at my engorged penis but I received no rebuke from my dominant DaddyBear. Pushing back on the chair, raising my buttocks, I presented my hole to Daddy. He directed his attention to my hungry anus; rolling the cigar cap around my sphincter and pushing the cigar briefly into my hole. - ‘OH YES DADDY!’ I cried out ‘I NEED IT, I WANT IT NOW!!’ - ‘Oh I KNOW that son, Im sure you’ve tested positive for capnolagnia, but we’ll prove that later.’

- ‘Look at the fucking mess you’ve made of my chair’ He dropped to his knees, gobbled up my cock, sucking and licking it clean. He rose with a smug look; his tongue all around his lips. - ‘… VERY tasty my boy. We need to smoke this big fucker but not in here.’ The big Asylum cigar was unceremoniously pushed into my mouth. - ‘You hold the stogie son!’

Fred ungracefully dragged me out of the humidor, with the huge erect cigar filling my mouth. Craving the smoke and each other, we moved swiftly into the lounge, only for me to be pushed backwards by Daddy; tumbling on to a large black soft leather sofa. The Asylum still secure in my mouth, Fred prepared for the lighting. This evening was beyond belief and it hadn’t ended yet … talk about foreplay!

My cigar master picked up a cutter from a side table and passed it over to me. - ‘You know what to do son, it’s just a bigger cigar’

I lined up the cutter on the biggest cap I’d ever seen and confidently made a tidy V cut. - ‘Excellent son, very neatly done, now here is the lighter’ Fred passed me a Colibri torch lighter, which he’d shown me before on an earlier visit to Thompson’s. I was still a little nervous using it but my mentor assured me I was up to the task. I was determined to make a good job of firing up this monster. Sparking up the torch lighter, I diligently toasted all areas of the cigar foot. Fred watched on quietly, making no judgement, as the big moment arrived … When I was satisfied with the first stage, I then placed my lips around the Asylum 13. Wow! It felt amazing having such a giant stick in my mouth. I got the lighter going again and commenced lighting up. It took longer than for any other cigar I’d smoked; requiring three inspections until I was content it was completely lit. I was surprised it had a good draw and after several puffs it was smoking fantastic and tasted great. The air around us filling with amazing aromatic smoke. I looked over to my sexy nude Daddy sprawled out at the other end of the sofa. Fred was nodding with pride. - ‘Perfect son, get fucking over here NOW!… Daddy wants you so badly’ I crawled over to Fred laying with my back against his furry body, allowing his arms to stretch around my chest. Our bodies together for the first time and it was blissful. Writhing in unison, Fred tweaked my nipple hard and bit at my ear lobe, as I felt his cock grow under me. Wriggling against Daddy but there was only pleasure from the torment. I managed another draw on the cigar before a big hand prised it from my lips. Daddy was in charge now.

Strategically, I realised Fred had positioned us in front of an enormous mirror, covering the full height of the wall. Only now could I fully appreciate the marvellous scene of two lustful men, surrounded by an increasing mist of cigar smoke. I watched attentively as Fred worked the cigar, burning bright orange, as he repeatedly drew on it, lazily letting a thick cloud almost drift from his mouth but quickly taken back, followed by a long slow exhale surrounding us both in the smoke. My cock jumped erect again. - ‘Oh Daddy, that really gets me hard watching you smoke like that’ - ‘I know son’ I turned to face Fred, glancing only momentarily at each other, before I was in his tight bear hug and we were kissing in a frenzy of tongues, licking beards, pulling and biting lips. He tasted like no other man I’d known and I was in ecstasy. This wild activity advanced as Daddy kept our cigar burning; puffing heavily till we were in a thick fog, which I inhaled, as I returned to his mouth to hungrily feed on the cigar smoke and saliva. Fred’s cigar hand pushed firmly on my chest ... - ‘OPEN YOUR MOUTH BOY!!’ As I parted my lips, Daddy shot a load of spit to the back of my mouth, which had my cock in madness. - ‘YES DADDY, THANK YOU DADDY!’ Fred slipped the Asylum back in my mouth, holding it firmly between his index and middle fingers, with his palm against me ensuring no exit for smoke. As I battled for breath, Daddy clamped his nails into my right nipple. The torture was almost unbearable, until my tit was released and Daddy’s tongue raped my mouth. A rush of endorphins overwhelmed me briefly. Daddy let me recover, smiling broadly at me in my rapture. - ‘You’re definitely a CigarPig in the making son’ I smiled, yet not really sure what the title entailed. We manoeuvred ourselves on the sofa; I lay on my back with my head resting on the soft sofa arm. I looked up, desperate for more. - ‘FUCK ME DADDY!’

Fred was on his knees lying on the sofa by my ass, smoking with a hunger. I hadn’t realised how big the ash had become. Daddy teased my body; where would the ash fall? … over my chest … on my belly … on my cock or balls? Fred stuffed the smoky Asylum back in his jaw. My tormentor stretched my left leg back against the sofa and pulled my buttocks towards him. He dropped the thick ash dead on my hole, his fingers massaged it in a circular motion, then spat down on it and worked them over my sphincter heading to my prostate. I pushed hard against them, craving the smoke and ash being part of me. - ‘Fuck YES, YES Daddy, I want to be your CigarPig, I’ll do anything, I want you Daddy, I LOVE cigars, I get so horny watching you light up and smoke them … I’ve got a million feelings exploding out about smoking and the men who smoke, the big cigars, the smoke, smoking men fucking me, I’m obsessed with it all Daddy and I want more and more.’ - ‘That’s my boy, I’m so proud, you’ve a strong smoking fetish; its also called capnolagnia’ Two rough fingers discovered THE spot up my ass. I moaned as my prostate was found. My ass was ravenous for Daddy cock. Fred stretched back to the side table, retrieving a pump nozzled bottle. It was lube and Daddy spread his solid, erect cock all over with the clear gel. I implored Daddy to fuck me NOW. - ‘FUCK ME DADDY, I NEED YOUR COCK DADDY!!’ He raised my legs by my ankles, resting them on his shoulders and targeted his rigid cock at my hole. Fred took another big drag on the huge cigar and pushed his stunning penis up me. Daddy was IN!! My cigar man was fucking me … and fucking me hard. Smoking the big fat maduro, Daddy soon found his rhythm; in and out, in and out, at a relentless pace, banging his balls against my ass aggressively. Constant smoke belching from the side of his mouth. - ‘YOU SEXY BOY, DADDY’S LOVES YOUR HOLE’ Fred was fierce and tears of pain, tears of joy formed in my eyes, as I met his savage thrusts. - ‘OH DADDY, YEESSS!!’ The Asylum aroma and smoke exhaled, bathed me, baptised me, in devout cigar ecstasy. Delirium surely setting in … this was fucking planet Euphoria!

Simply, I knew this was what I’d always wanted.

Daddy kept up a verbal barage of lewd comments, which just heightened the sexual hysteria. My CigarDaddy really got into his stride now, as beads of sweat trailed down his crimson face. My whole body shuddered with every violent lunge, as our conversation descended into a series of animal grunts and primal groans. My head rolled back and I sensed the climax approaching; each thrust came less rapidly but with increasing force, until I felt Fred tense up, grip my legs tightly, nails digging into my calves and then it came … FUCK IT CAME! … - ‘FFUUUCCCCKKKKK YYYYEEEEEESSSSSSSS !!!!’ Daddy yelled out. Warm injections of cum released into my hole, as cigar ash tumbled over me. Fred looked spent as his assault subsided. He passed me the now slightly chewed Asylum though still burning strong. I practically snatched it from his grip, as I took a long drag on, what was now, my favorite cigar.

Fred slumped down onto the sofa, greatly amused as I clasped our cigar and smoked in the afterglow of our sexual bond. - ‘You’re a great fuck son’ - ‘Thanks Daddy … thanks’ - ‘Get over here, you’ve a cock to clean’ As Fred sat manspreading , I was down on the floor, between his legs in a shot and as I rested my cigar hand on his left thigh, my hungry tongue was all over his cock, his balls and as he conveniently shifted to the edge I found his hole and started licking Daddy’s asshole. Fuck, I’d never done that before but I needed it. Daddy lay back, recovering from his exertions, looking down in pride I was up for more fun; I took several puffs on the cigar and dived down on his fuck pole, bathing it in the delicious smoke. - ‘Fuck son, you’re SO fucking good’

We lay together for a good while, blissfully secure in Daddy’s arms, keeping our cigar going as we talked non-stop about ourselves and what had brought us together. Fate had played a part on our first meeting but we both made this evening happen and it felt perfect.

Unexpectedly a low pitched voice spoke behind us … ‘SO! … I’ve got competition Daddy?’

As I tried to turn around Fred clamped his legs tight against me, restricting my movement but I could still see his reflection in the mirror.

- ‘Looks like I have a little brother, Daddy’

It was Kenny the big gregarious, bearded bear - stark naked too; revealing a toned, muscular hairy body of black fur. He carried the box of cigars that Fred collected earlier. The two bears burst out laughing at their cunning deception; the crafty devils had obviously plotted the situation together.

Suddenly I was a bit tongue tied in front of this adonis. I could only offer an initial ‘Hi’. Fred released me from his grip and I could now get a better look at the gorgeous bear, who stuck out his tongue at me.

- ‘I’ve wanted to fucking get into your pants for weeks, sexy boy’

FUCK! he was a FURRY guy from head to foot with a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. Amongst the various designs I was drawn to the anchor with USN and a sailor in uniform smoking a large cigar. It struck me I must get a tattoo too. - ‘Ben, you know Kenny of course, he’s been my son for 3 years now. Since we met you, we’ve been thinking and talking about you a lot and very keen to get to know you better’

Kenny rummaged in the box then stretched over for the lighter.

- ‘Mmmm I see what I want, Daddy’

He fired up the amazing La Gloria Cubana with a flourish. He smoked like every cigar was a celebration, brandishing the stick dramatically. A large orange flame danced at the foot as he puffed incessantly until satisfied with the burn. I loved the way Kenny smoked; french inhaling, blowing smoke rings, nose jetting - it was so sexy to me. He took a big drag and exhaled a long stream of smoke in my direction … and I was a moth drawn to the flame and as Kenny drew again on the oscuro cigar, I met his exhale in a passionate kiss and his rough embrace. Fuck he tasted so good! Our leaking cocks grinding together.

- ‘OH YES LITTLE BROTHER’

I got bold! … I took the cigar from Kenny’s lips … - ‘My turn’ I savored the taste of the LGC with a long slow draw. Kenny anticipated my next move and opened his mouth inches from mine as I exhaled in a steady stream, which he sucked up and then exhaled back at me. Fuck it was awesome. Kenny and I kissed crazily, his strong tongue invaded my mouth and I had to fight to match him. As we released we were licking each other’s beards. - ‘Boys, you’re getting Daddy very horny again’

I whispered into Kenny’s ear … and he nodded enthusiastically. I turned to Fred and my lips blew him a kiss. I passed him the Asylum, which he started to smoke, as I dropped again between his thighs sucking him off. Looking over to the mirror, Kenny was lubing up his cock, with his cigar glowing in his lips. Suddenly I was being lifted from both ends … this wasn’t my plan, I’d being tricked … being laid along the back of the sofa but I was a willing victim. Fred and Kenny were pumping out cigar smoke ; Daddy face fucked me and my big brother banging away at my hole. I’m sure they were getting off looking at each other using me. Spit roasted, sandwiched between two sex maniacs. My body was gratefully taking it all.

It finally occurred to me I had a load to shoot too and started to masturbate; my hand in a blur, jacking off wildly. Whilst my hole was fucked by Kenny, exhaling large clouds from his LGC, in measured constant strokes but still relentless back and forth again and again. Fred, with the Asylum smouldering in his lips, then stuffed his big cock in my mouth and I sucked like my life depended on it. My whole body pushed and pulled by demanding cigarmen …. All three cocks in synchronicity, each of us focused in our own selfish way towards a climactic finale … culminating in the release of sperm. As it happened, seeing Kenny deep inhale his cigar smoke, then nose jetting set me off and several long ropes of cum shot high from my cock on to his hairy belly. This triggered Fred who still had Daddy Milk in the tank and he came in my mouth, which I swallowed gratefully. Kenny shouted out - ‘FEED HIM!’ and as I arched my back I felt a second load of cum in my ass.

All three of us collapsed together on to the sofa in recovery; fondling, stroking, licking, kissing … smoking.

We all agreed we were starving for food and drink so Daddy became host; producing chicken drumsticks, sliced meats , cheeses, grapes and a bowl of strawberries from a fridge. After our exertions, the jug of iced water was welcome. A bottle of Shiraz was opened and we dived into the feast. We chatted for ages and Fred introduced me to a single malt Scotch whisky called Talisker, from the Isle of Skye, which was a good excuse for another cigar, which Fred extolled were a perfect combination together. I picked out the Punch Gusto Tubo from the box. Kenny found the Asylum, which still had some final smoking in it and Fred took the Ashton Classic Magnum as he felt the Presidente was bigger than he needed for now. I was a bit disappointed as I’d have loved seeing Daddy fire it up … but another time. As we sat together, enjoying our cigars, it just came out from me … - ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS!’ Both Fred and Kenny nodded approvingly and individually said ‘I love you too son’ … ‘I love you too, brother’ Daddy added - ‘you know Ben, that Punch Gusto really does suits you … maybe it should be your favorite cigar?’ All three of us spontaneously burst into mad laughter. Our three bodies were in an exhausted tangle of arms and legs, fighting sleep, I lifted my head towards Fred and enquired … - ‘So did I PASS the test?’ Daddy laughed and spanked me hard on my bare buttock. I grinned back at Fred who announced - ‘Get upstairs, it’s time for bed boys I yawned and asked my Daddy … - ‘Can I borrow a toothbrush tonight before I pick up my stuff tomorrow?’ ‘Ben, tomorrow is today’.

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lakeshor · 2 years

Text

Steve going back to Reefer Rick’s after vol. 2 to get Eddie’s car because Wayne’s truck got swallowed up by the gate and just being… fascinated by what he finds.

The front seats are the only ones left in the van, the rest of it getting gutted—Steve assumes—to make room for Eddie’s guitar equipment. But the rest of the van is full of signs of life.

There’s a pile of blankets and pillows in the back that look very well-used, like Eddie used to sleep back here a lot. There’s multiple changes of clothes, too, all Eddie’s. So no late night backseat guests, Steve assumes. (Or at least not any who don’t already dress like Eddie)

Empty chip bags and candy wrappers are shoved into every available cup holder and door well, along with receipts from places around Hawkins and a couple from roadside stops on the route to Indianapolis. Multiple are from Thatcher tire, for car parts Steve didn’t even know existed, some are from Melvalds, for cigarettes and junk food, others are from Family Mart for more of the same. Deep in the seatback pocket he finds one from a shop Steve recognizes from Starcourt, the Orange Julius across the food court from Scoops Ahoy.

There’s a half-drunk six pack nestled in the blanket pile, empty bottles clanking together at Steve’s feet as he crouch/crawls over to the front seats.

There’s a full-to-bursting shoebox of cassettes shoved behind the passenger seat, the covers of which are variations on a theme: blood, fire, naked women, jagged symbols around illegible fonts and band names even Steve can tell are grossly misspelled. He finds a purple and green Black Sabbath tape and pockets it for no reason.

The glove box is surprisingly sparse. Vehicle registration, not expired, insurance, still valid, a thick plastic keycard embossed with the Hawkins Packaging plant logo, and an unopened pack of Lucky Strikes. Steve vaguely remembers thinking Eddie smoked Camels.

Steve sees a tape still loaded in the deck and pops it out out of curiosity—it’s Queen. Steve owns this album. It’s sitting on his turntable at home, needle queued to the familiar groove where ‘Need Your Loving Tonight’ becomes ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love.’ Steve feels his eyebrows move up to his hairline and a quiet laugh escapes him in the silent car. Eddie fucking Munson listens to Queen.

Steve replaces the tape and settles into the driver’s seat. Eddie’s windshield is cracked, the thin fissure starting somewhere near the left windshield wiper and arcing across to the passenger side roof. Just annoying enough to notice but not distracting enough to do anything about.

Steve buckles his seatbelt and fishes Wayne’s spare key out of his pocket. The belt buckle is grimy, the steering wheel has obvious dark patches where anxious hands have sat gripping the leather, and the roof near the window is stained a deep yellow from cigarette smoke. The whole van has a stale sort of smell to it, like skunky weed and liquor soaked, sun-warmed upholstery. Objectively, it’s disgusting. Steve should be grossed out.

Instead, he feels something like grief wash over him, in this van so full of Eddie, in this world so devoid of him.

#steve is a lover whether he knows it or not #That boy can fit so much humanity in his little jock body #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #sorry if this is incomprehensible slash off theme #i have been thinking nonstop about them for DAYS and I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a while #i am not a writer

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saitama-division · 7 months

Note

It was afternoon now, and the sun peeked through the few clouds that filled the sky. Looking up at the sky, Kensaku watched a cloud slowly move across the burning orb before he blinked his eyes as the sun beamed down onto his face.

This week leading up to Sayaka’s birthday stressed the poor man out. Much like last year, he wanted to distance himself, just send a gift and letter to her wishing her a happy birthday. But after a few, no tons of failed letters Kensaku finally gave up and decided that he would just wake up early to deliver it himself… Again. At least this time he actually had a gift picked out.

“Hey, are you done brooding yet?!”

Looking up from his seat, Kensaku looked back at his car parked outside the park he had decided to mentally prepare himself at. Inside an impatient Yano was yelling out the window, with Asato appearing to protest the older man’s boisterous attitude. Smiling, Ken dropped the burning cigarette that he had hardly touched and snuffed it out before walking over.

“You shouldn’t be so mean…” Asato mumbled.

Yano barked in response, “You told me how last year went and we can’t let him fuck it up again! Not when I put so much fucking last-minute effort into his stupid gift…” Yano pointed at Kensaku’s pocket, yelling out the window again. “It’s your fault I had to stay up late to get that done! I got a lot riding on that!”

“I already paid you for all the trouble, Yano-kun…” Kensaku sighed, feeling guilty for his last-minute request.

“Don’t you dare forget the other part of the deal!”

“Right, right. The Moominvalley Park…”

Seeming satisfied with that last comment, Yano gave a toothy grin and thumbs up at Kensaku. “Good! Now go already! Moominvalley ain’t open forever!”

“...Is that really your priority here?”

Kensaku couldn’t help but laugh a little at Asato’s comment. Shaking his head at Yano’s immature impatience, Kensaku walked away from the car to let the two men talk and relax while he went to the Miyuki household. He figured that it would be nice to speak to her without his rowdy teammates jeering him on, but the closer he got to their house he felt more and more nervous. One after another, negative thoughts about the worst case scenarios filled his head. It wasn’t as though he could mull on it for long, because before he knew it, he was already at his destination. So, shaking away the negative thoughts, he paused for a moment before knocking on the door in fake confidence. ‘No point in running now. Better go with the flow.’

As the door swung open, Kensaku pulled a small box out of his pocket and grasped it in one hand as the other he used to give a friendly smile and wave Sayaka Miyuki. “Happy birthday Miyuki-san!”

After a quick exchange of small talk, Ken finally managed to hand Sayaka his gift, which was contained in a small pink velvet box. Opening it up revealed a tiny translucent butterfly pendant on a golden chain.

Letting himself stare at Sayaka’s expression and admire her a little, his attention was brought back to earth when the woman looked up at him with a smile, causing him to stutter. “I-I thought I could butter you up with a little gift! I noticed that you seem to like butterflies. I mean, it’s not hard to notice when your team logo is a butterfly, right? Not to mention your hairpin… A-And uhm…”

Realizing he was beginning to blather, Kensaku stopped himself and took a deep breath to genuinely speak. “I really do hope you like it. I spent a long time trying to come up with the best possible gift for you, and I…I…”

After a long pause, Kensaku’s pocket began to buzz, making the man jump back from the woman and fumble for his phone. Irritatingly, it appeared like Yano had blown up Kensaku’s phone with text messages before ultimately calling his cell phone at the worst possible moment. With an apologetic smile, he backed away from her home. “I’m so sorry. I have some business. Feel free to text or call me if it doesn’t fit you? S-Sorry again, and enjoy the rest of your birthday!”

And so, Kensaku took off, leaving Sayaka standing alone in her doorway yet again.

At the sound of someone knocking on her door, Sayaka stopped what she was doing and walked over to the front entrance. ‘Most likely another gift’, she thought as she twisted the doorknob, her eyes widen slightly in surprise at the sight of Kensaku. “Ah, Morimoto-san!” She smiled at him, “How nice to see you!” She waved back.

Upon receiving his gift, Sayaka opened up the box and gasped softly in surprise, gently holding the pendant in her hand. Her eyes sparkled as she marveled at the piece of jewelry, it was beautiful and the fact that Kensaku took time out of his day to personally deliver her a present on her birthday made Sayaka really, really happy for some reason but she just chalked it up to being happy to see a good friend, that’s all. Sayaka felt her face warm up a bit and looked back up to Kensaku and smiled brightly, laughing a little at his pun. “Thank you so much, Morimoto-san! This is beautiful!”

She stared at him with wide eyes, listening intently as he spoke but seemed to snap out of it when his phone rang, smiling softly, she waved him goodbye and went back inside her house, still holding onto the necklace. What she didn’t expect was to see both Lola and Kureha waiting for her as she turned a corner, yelping loudly and nearly jumping out of her skin. “What the-?! How long were you two just standing there?!” Sayaka exclaimed, placing a hand on her heart in an attempt to calm herself, looking at the pair with wide eyes.

Kureha said nothing as she just stared at Sayaka, or rather the necklace she held with such an intensity that it was quite off-putting while Lola crossed her arms and looked at the brunette with a similar look. “Long enough.” The model smoothly replied, eyeing the necklace. “So, looks like Mr. Pun and Run actually decided to step up his game huh? I’ll give him credit, it’s definitely better than last year but I’m taking points off for running yet again.”

Kureha narrowed her eyes and placed her hands in her pockets, a look on conflict on her features. “Lola…what should we do..?”

Lola put a reassuring hand on the goth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take of it.”

Sayaka frowned and furrowed her brows, confused. “Hold on. What on earth are you two talking about? What do you mean ‘take care of it’? Of what? You two better not do anything to Morimoto-san! He’s a nice man!” She crossed her arms and gave the artist and the model a stern glare.

Kureha hunched into herself, looking away guiltily and Lola held her hands up in surrender, raising a brow. “Whoa now, we’re not gonna hurt the guy, we just wanna talk to him, see where his head’s at on whether or not he’s serious about this.”

Sayaka sighed deeply, rubbing her face in exasperation. “About what?” She asked and Lola gave her a look that can be described as ‘Are you kidding me?’. Even Kureha stared at her incredulously, “Mom…” The goth started but quickly shook her head with a long sigh making the single mother pout. “What? Why are you two getting so defensive over a gift a friend gave me?” That made Lola facepalm harshly, letting out a frustrated groan.

“God sunshine, you’re killing us over here!”

Thank you for the gift!

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis microphone #sayaka miyuki #lola takahashi #kureha koizumi #femme fatale #toyama division #kensaku morimoto #happy birthday sayaka 2023 #gift

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

Text

The Freaks: Eddie Munson x male reader part three

Ok I'm taking a break from vampire brain rot induced by my mutuals and I'm back to posting about this beautiful man. I'm being honest this is one of those times I just write something down then edit it to make it look like I knew what I was doing the entire time.

Part one Part two

Summary: You go back to Eddies trailer and end up in hellfire by the end of the night

Warnings: Strong language

After a bit of a drive you pull up at Eddies trailer, getting out of your car and meeting him at the front door. "So my uncle works the night shift so we have the place all to ourselves." He unlocks the door and leads you in. It's a small but nice place with an underlying smell of something you can't quite pick up. Cigarettes? Mildew? You can't tell. You're lead to Eddies room, a very chaotic place. Posters plastered all over the walls. Clothes and magazines all over the floor. His side table and desk are full of junk. But still if feels a bit charming and fitting for a guy like Eddie. It's like what you expected.

"So Mr. Munson I assume it's standard you bring all your dates back to your house." You tease. Eddie laughs a bit and looks back at you, taking off his leather jacket.

"This is a date now? You should've told me before Y/n I could've done something more fun with you." He teases.

"It's a joke Eddie," You look over and find what appears to be a hand made flag for corroded coffin. You smile, "I know I've only known you for a week but you don't give off the artsy type." He looks over at the flag too.

"Yeah well I dabble in it. The hellfire club helps make the shirts with me. Pretty fun times. Not too different than your fake gore stuff."

"Yeah I guess not. I know some stuff. I don't really tell people but I can use a sewing machine too, pretty good at it. I also know how to make like realistic fake fangs-"

"No way man," He cuts you off sitting on his bed, "You have to make me a pair. I can like pay you but it would be killer to have fangs."

"You're also an aspiring vampire? Good to know." Eddie rolls his eyes and your smile widens.

"Well it would be fun to have it for dnd, and scaring people around school."

"I get that," You sit next to him on his bed, " I kinda wanna scare some people off. I wish Jason would leave me the hell alone like everyone else does. Sure there's the ocasinal comment or the mean note left in my locker but he kind of goes out of his way."

"People are assholes, but hey you've got us," He says with a light punch on your arm, "and next time Jason gives you shit let me know. I can totally kick his ass." You let out a short howl of laughter.

"Eddie a toddler with no arms could kick your ass, no offense." It's his turn to laugh now.

"Oh you wanna bet? I can totally pin you down in less than a minute."

"Bull shit. Have you seen my arms?" You say giving them a playful flex, "I'm super strong and I could pin you in under a minute."

"Alright then lets see. Winner gets 10 dollars."

"Eddie I'm not gonna fight you, we're not children." He gives an exagurated sigh and pretend mopes, slumping over a bit.

"Suit yourself Y/n, I just know I could beat anyone in a fight at anytime." You roll your eyes and spot a box on his desk. The familar dnd logo is written on the side and you get up.

"Have you started a new game of dnd yet?" You ask grazing a few fingers over the box.

"Well our new campain starts soon. Are you interested in joining?" He ask. You nod looking back over at him.

"I mean I kinda am. I like that fantasy kinda shit. Always wanted to be a vampire or something."

"Vampires aren't in dnd," He says getting off his bed and walking over to the desk. He grabs the box and motions for you to follow him out of his room, "I assume you don't have a character."

"I don't," You two end up at his 'kitchen' table, you take a seat next to him and he opens the box, "Do I get to make one?"

"Of course you do," He digs around and pulls out a paper, pencil and die, "Now let's get started shall we? So you should pick a race from this list," He hands you two papers, one with a template for a character creation on it and one with more information. You look over the races for a few minutes.

"Is an elf a good choice?" You ask looking at him, getting a beautiful look at his big brown doe eyes. He nods.

"Yeah they're good for archers and warriors. So just write that down along with a name for your character." You put down elf in the proper space and hover your pencil over where your characters name goes. You print 'Y/n the great' down and Eddie laughs.

"What's so funny?" You ask genuinly.

"Well you can name him anything you want. Why not do something more fun," You look back at the paper with a small nod and erase the old name. In it's place you put 'Virrel Myers', "Myers? Like Michael Myers?" He asks.

"Yeah I'm a horror movie fan. Why not?" You see his smile grow a little wider.

"Yeah, why not? Now you need to pick a class. Because you're an elf I suggest picking a ranger or a fighter," You think for a moment before putting down ranger, "Perfect now it's time to fill in your skills," he puts a six sided die in your hand, "Roll it for each skill and put that number down," You spend the next five minutes rolling the die and adding the following number, "Perfect, now I'll help you add your modifiers." You two keep going for another 15 minutes filling in the paper and in the end you're left feeling tired. You let out a yawn and stretch your arms.

"I think I should be getting home, I'm really tired." You say checking your watch. It's around 11:30. Thank god you called your parents earlier.

"You could spend the night. My uncle doesn't get home until like 7 and I leave for school before then most of the time. I mean only if you want to you know?" You nod.

"Thank you Eddie but I think I'm gonna go back home, I don't wanna like mess anything up."

"Alright I get that," You two get up and Eddie walks you to the door, "I'll see you tomorrow Virrel." You chuckle.

"I'll see you tomorrow too Ed's." You walk back to your car and get in. Eddie doesn't shut the door until he sees you drive off. A smile still on his face. He like you Y/n. You're a real cool dude.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x male reader #stranger things #eddie stranger things

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