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lovebugism · 1 year

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☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary.

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own.

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink.

Maybe the beer is partly to blame.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup.

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is.

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls.

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you.

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you.

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years.

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd.

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore.

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad.

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless.

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it.

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming.

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together.

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more.

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you.

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger.

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence.

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another.

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting.

He makes sure you know it too.

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you.

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to.

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart.

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it — the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier.

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing.

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house.

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue.

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock.

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it.

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more.

He wants to commit it all to memory.

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move.

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick.

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly.

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat.

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him.

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for.

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained.

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night.

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close.

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock.

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken.

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into.

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you.

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket.

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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hellfirecvnt · 2 years

Note

Perv Eddie smut please!

You and the hellfire gang are playing truth or dare. Eddie teases you that you can’t turn him on, you are one of the guys so it won’t work. When you whisper the dirtiest things in his hear his mind is changed officially. Everyday after that he can’t look at you the same way. You’ve turned him into a huge pervert, stealing your panties and thinking degrading feral thoughts.

WOW OKAY. PERV!EDDIE HAS BEEN ON MY LIST I JUST COULDN'T THINK OF A GOOD PROMPT AND THIS IS PERFECT!!!

Finish What You Started

Perv!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warning: Smut near the end (+18 minors DNI), perv!eddie, peeping tom, Somnophilia, unprotected sex, more?

[I take requests]

Another thrilling campaign was concluded tonight. Eddie was feeling particularly on top of the world having outsmarted the entire Hellfire Club, leading to their unfortunate (character) demise.

"Better luck next time, gentlemen... Y/N." He adds you at the last second, a testament to his "gentlemanly" ways.

"You knew what you were doing with that banshee, Munson." You huff, recalling the way you forgot they can sense life from five miles away, eliminating any chance you had for a surprise attack.

"Of course I did, dude. That's the point." He laughs, lightly punching you in the shoulder. "Now, don't be a sore loser. We're all going back to my place to celebrate my awesome campaign."

It was common for Eddie to host a "party" for the club at the end of a campaign. This time differed only in his ego being as big as the building tonight, having won and all. You and the rest of the guys give a cheer in confirmation, already prepared to get tore up from the floor up.

The group files outside, and you catch a ride with Eddie as you have a million times before. Jeff hops in his car and Gareth drives Dustin and Mike in his.

"You have fun tonight?" You laugh in Eddie's van as it smoothly coasts to his nearby trailer.

"Oh, sure. My favorite part was you, Y/N knower of all monsters and spells, insufferable know-it-all DnD extraordinaire, forgetting the one thing that makes a banshee, a banshee." He taunts, earning a playful scowl from you.

You arrive at the trailer within minutes, the rest of the club close behind. Everyone gathers in the empty living room as they have time and time before. Eddie tosses a bottle of beer to everyone except Mike and Dustin, but they don't mind. They're just happy to be here.

"Next week, prepare yourselves for perhaps my most sadistic adventure to date!" Eddie, buzzed, displays grand showmanship as he describes next week's sneak peek. The hang out shifts from DnD talk, to sporadic jam sessions, to crazy stories, until finally Dustin suggests Truth or Dare.

"What are we, five?" Gareth teases.

"No, no. This could be fun. Start us off, Henderson." A drunken Eddie hands Dustin the floor.

"Uh, okay. Jeff, truth or dare?" Dustin looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, I guess dare." Jeff isn't the confessing type.

"I dare you to take a shot of the hottest hot sauce Eddie has in his house." Dustin looks at an elated Eddie. He scurries back to his room and comes back with a black glass bottle.

"Turn it up, Jeff." Eddie snickers.

"What is this? Is this even hot sauce? Is this drugs?" Jeff opens the small lid and sniffs.

"No, dumbass. It's ghost pepper extract. My uncle bought it as a gag gift for me one Christmas. It feels like tongue fucking a stove eye." Eddie slouches into the couch, watching for Jeff's reaction. He turns the small bottle up, one big gulp, and he looks at the rest of us.

"It's not really that bad." His lisp is multiplied by 7 and his eyes are steadily pouring tears, but other than that, he doesn't waver.

"Jesus Christ." Dustin marvels, laughing as Jeff's tears soak his shirt. "You're turn, Jeff."

"Eddie, you son of a bitch. Truth or dare?" Jeff laughs through deep breaths.

"Hey man, all I did was supply the sauce. Henderson's the one who dared you. But, truth." Eddie smirks, certain there's nothing he'd be too scared to admit.

"Why do all the models in the Playboys you buy look like Mike's mom?" Jeff asks smugly. The entire room erupts into laughter, except for Mike.

"Come on, guys," Mike groans.

"To be fair, Mrs. Wheeler is a dime." You add, fueling Mike's discomfort.

"I'm gonna claim it's completely coincidental." Eddie chuckles.

"Yeah, right. We've all seen Mike's mom," Gareth starts, causing Mike to groan yet again. "It doesn't really take much to set you off, man."

"Yeah honestly anything with a pussy and a pulse could probably find a way into Eddie's bed." Jeff laughs.

"That's a lie. Y/N has a pussy probably and I've never wanted to fuck her. She's one of the guys, it just can't happen." He sits with a proud look on his face as if he proved anything.

"Probably?" You repeat to yourself as you lift your waistband, making sure she's still down there. Eddie picks Gareth and dares him to call his mom posing as a toaster repair service. It goes to hell and she hangs up furiously. The trailer nearly shakes with drunken laughter.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" Gareth points to you across the living room.

"Uh, dare, I guess." You chuckle, eager to see what bullshit they're gonna have you attempt.

"I dare you to turn Eddie on." Gareth grins wickedly, aware that Eddie just said it couldn't be done.

"Good luck, bud. It's gonna be like having Jeff try to get in my pants." Eddie jokes.

"Alright, lemme give it a try." You lean over to Eddie, cupping your hand around his ear as you begin to whisper.

"You have no idea how many times I've touched myself while imagining you throat fucking me as hard as you can, forcing yourself into my throat while tears fall down my face." You start. "I think about the way your cock would twitch inside me while you came in my tight, little pussy. And then I'd finger myself afterward, just to taste us mixed together." You let your breath wash over Eddie's neck before you pulled away.

Eddie's eyes widen in shock. The room fills with boyish giggles as his cheeks become a rosy color.

"Jesus, Y/N. What'd you say to him?" Gareth slaps his hands together once, laughing with everyone else. Eddie is stunned, unable to look at you for a moment, and unable to speak.

"I dunno, but I don't need to see him pitch a tent to know I did it." You smirk proudly, relishing in the buzzed confidence.

Jesus Christ Eddie thinks to himself. He racks his brain for a single memory that could be warned him you'd never be capable of saying something like that.

"Mike, truth or dare?" You somewhat slur.

"Please don't make it about my mom," He begs.

"Truth or dare, Wheeler? C'mon." You bypass his request, gesturing for him to give you an answer.

"Ugh, truth."

"Does your mom still have that necklace? The golden charm with a strangely placed pearl?" You fight to contain your laughter.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?" Mike furrows his brow.

"You guys, Mike's mom has one of those pussy necklaces. It's like fancy, but it's meant to look like a vag. I swear to God." You describe it to them, and they all confirm they've seen it.

"Guys, seriously?" Mike whines.

"Your mom fucks, Mike. Get over it. Don't dull her shine." You turn up your beer as punctuation on your sentence.

"I'm not dulling her shine, I just don't want to hear about it!" He throws a pillow at you, laughing. "And she's married! I have a dad!"

"Show off." Gareth jokes. The rest of the night is full of laughter and more Mike's Mom Jokes than anyone could've really prepared for. Eddie stays much quieter, eventually excusing himself to the bathroom.

The second the door was shut, a deep, desperate sigh escaped his mouth. Drunk and hornier than he thought possible, he splashes water in his face a few times before finally giving in and fucking his fist in the bathroom. He replays your breathy whispers over and over, cumming faster than he ever has.

A wave of shame washes over him as he reassesses what just happened. He chocks it up to being drunk, and you being pretty. Sure, she's always been hot. We're still just pals, though. I'm just a horny drunk. He reasons with himself.

The next day, Eddie wakes up with morning wood. His dreams were consumed by thoughts of your soft lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. He covers his eyes with his hands and groans. Something in him wants to be ashamed of how perverted he's being, but it's your fault, right? He strokes himself until he finishes, quietly mumbling your name as he does.

Usually, when Eddie was feeling particularly pervy, he could satiate the thoughts by cumming. But it wasn't working this time. Desperate just to hear your voice, he calls you.

"C'mon. Pick up, pick up..." He twirls the spiral phone cord around his finger, but your phone goes to voicemail. You got pretty drunk, it's no wonder you're still asleep at- he checks the clock- 6 AM?! No wonder it's still dark outside. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, hatching an idea.

On the weekends, your parents go out of town for business. Because of this, Eddie knows various ways of entering your house, for friendly reasons, of course. Until now. He gets dressed and heads out his trailer door to his van. He's speeding, actually speeding to get to you faster.

Your front door is locked, as he would expect. So he treks around the side of your one-story house to your bedroom window. He reaches his ring-clad fingers to the window pane, carefully drawing closer, face stiff with focus.

The lamp next to your bed is still on, a clear indication of how drunk you were when you went to bed. The dim light illuminates Eddie's dark figure outside the glass. He reaches to open the window, as he had plenty of times before regardless of you being asleep or awake, but then he stops.

He notices the way you're laying in your bed. Face down, one leg straight and the other bent and hiked up next to you. Your arms wrap around the pillow under your head. His eyes fix on your sleep shorts, the way they've ridden up, exposing the entire bottom half of your ass cheeks.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. What did you do to me?" He grunts, palming himself through his jeans. He finally reaches for the window and slides it open, not caring if you wake up or not. It wouldn't be the first time you woke up to him in your room. It would, however, be the first time Eddie rummaged through your panty drawer.

He cataloged every fabric and style in his mind, imagining the way each pair would look on your round hips. He then spots a pair sitting at the top of your laundry hamper. A sexy silk thong with embroidered text that reads "Eat Me." He already knows exactly which sex shop you got them from.

Without thought or reservation, he lifts the underwear to his face, inhaling your scent. He tangles his fingers in the smooth fabric as his jeans tighten. He's brutally shaken from his lustful trance when he hears you shift on the bed. He shoves the panties into his back pocket and adjusts himself the best he can.

"Mmm, hey man. What time is it?" You mumble in a raspy voice that makes Eddie's cock twitch.

"I uh, I'm not sure." He scratches his neck nervously, hoping you don't check the clock right next to you.

"Hell yeah." You reply, as if to the wrong conversation. You're back asleep not long after. A sigh of relief falls over Eddie. He gently creeps up to you in your bed, placing a light-as-a-feather hand over your skin where your skimpy shorts didn't cover. Goosebumps flood your skin under his gentle grazes.

He grips his bulge, desperate to calm the raging erection in his pants. He imagines waking you up by slipping his throbbing cock inside you. The way you'd moan and clench around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside you with every full-force thrust. Drool threatens to fall from his lips before he snaps out of it, and steps away.

As many weird kinks and fantasies as he has, he's never felt this out of control. He bites his fist, searching for any sensation besides the burning need to fuck you while you sleep. He shakes the thoughts from his mind the best he can before collapsing in your giant bean bag chair, falling back asleep.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of you clinking around in your bathroom. Doing your make-up and brushing your teeth. He can't recall his dream, but glued to the inside of his eyelids is the image of you looking up at him with his dick in your mouth.

"Fuuuuuck." He groans aloud.

"You okay?" You pop your head out the door. Eddie stares at you for a moment, unable to reply. "Eddie?"

"Yeah, haha. Sorry, hungover." He throws on a convincing nonchalant smirk. You're none the wiser.

"I'll be ready in just a second. Hope I haven't made you wait too long!" You call from the bathroom. Eddie stands from the comfy bean bag and stretches. He idly slides his hands in his back pockets, rediscovering the panties he's "borrowing" from you. He stuffs them deeper into his pocket when he hears you coming.

You emerge from the bathroom, a trail of light floral, expensive-smelling perfume in your wake. The scent fills Eddie's senses, causing his eyelashes to flutter.

"What's the plan for today, dude?" You ask innocently.

"I dunno. I figured we could play it by ear." He shrugs.

"Is it hot outside today?" You ask, holding up a pair of the shortest cut-offs Eddie has ever seen. Without missing a beat, he replies.

"Yup. High 90s I've heard." He doesn't watch the weather channel. You huff and disappear to the bathroom once again to change. It never occurred to Eddie how slutty you dress outside of school until now. You were notorious for tiny skirts and mesh body suits. The thought of any of your previous "going out" outfits that he once looked over makes him nearly jizz in his pants.

You emerge again from the bathroom, long legs fully on display. Eddie can't help but imagine how well they'd fit over his shoulders. He shakes his head, expelling his thoughts, or at least trying to.

"Oh! We should go to this new little ice cream shop downtown." You suggest, knowing Eddie would never turn down food after he smokes. You spark up a joint and pass it to him, his hand shakes as he grazes against your fingers. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"I'm fine, just waiting for you all morning." He quickly attempts to cover up his anxious horniness. "But ice cream sounds awesome, let's go." The two of you take a couple more hits off the joint and you tap the roach out into your ashtray.

In his van, Eddie can't help but watch the way your chest bounces with every bump and pothole he hits. He nonchalantly begins swerving into them, hoping for bigger potholes to shake you more.

"Jeez, they let this road go to hell, didn't they?" You criticize.

"Right? What are we even paying taxes for?" He jokes. You're the only person in the group with a job and it's only 2 days a week for 4 hours per shift at the arcade. Eddie continues to stare at your chest, side eyeing every jiggle. He imagines how they'd bounce while he's shoving his cock into you.

He quickly shakes his thoughts away, just barely missing a curb as he pulled into the ice cream shop parking lot.

"This place better be delicious or I'm never trusting you to pick breakfast again." His voice is playful and he seems to be a bit more handsy than usual. He's no stranger to physical contact with his pals, but he can't help himself with you. Poking and teasing you as much as he can, just to feel your soft skin.

"Oh man, I didn't realize this is kinda breakfast for us." You giggle.

You order your ice creams, you pick your trusty favorite flavor and Eddie tries something that looks like it should've never been frozen, let alone scooped.

"Oh my God, it tastes like grass." Your face scrunches in disgust.

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought something this dark green would taste good." Eddie digs through his cup of strange frozen dairy attempting to distract himself from the way your pierced, pink tongue travels from the cone to the tip of your ice cream.

Suppressing a moan, he reaches into his pocket, running his rough, calloused fingers over the soft silk of your panties.

"Y/N, about um, yesterday. What you said during truth or dare." Eddie starts.

"Oh shit, sorry man. I was getting super buzzed by that point. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything." You reach a hand out to his, hoping you didn't cross a line last night.

"Oh God, no. You didn't do anything. I uh, I was just wondering if," he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "If you meant it."

Your cheeks flash hot as you remember exactly what you whispered to him. None of it was a lie or even an exaggeration, but you couldn't read his tone well enough to admit it.

"Oh, God no. We're like best buds." Now you're the nervous one.

"Right, yeah. Of course." He chuckles, fixing his eyes on his green frozen treat. The ride back to your house is awkward and sexually tense, but you can't tell if it's you or him. The tension evaporates slowly throughout the day until Eddie is once again alone in his trailer.

He lays in his bed, stroking himself with your panties pressed firmly against his nose. Vulgarly, he moans your name into the silk as he cums.

"Fuck." He groans as more as more images of you cloud his mind. Every time you've ever bent over to grab something. Every time you've had to readjust your tiny, barely-there tube top. Finally, he can't take it anymore, and he stalks to the house phone to call you, hoping you're still awake.

The second his fingers graze the phone, it rings.

"Hello?" Eddie rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey." It's you.

"Woah, I was just about to call you." He laughs, relieved just to hear your voice.

"Yeah? What for?" You stall.

"We'll get to that when you tell me what you called for." Eddie smirks.

"Oh, I uh... I couldn't sleep so I was wondering if you'd come smoke with me."

"Wow, calling me for free weed? Low." He jokes before agreeing and hanging up.

Back at your house, you find yourself becoming nervous. You really did call because you couldn't sleep, but like the whore you are, the real reason was just hoping to be around Eddie for a little longer.

"Knock, knock." He vocalizes while knocking on your window. He climbs through and passes you an already lit joint. You take it graciously and take a long drag, hoping to calm your nerves. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Nah. You too?" You pass the joint back to him.

"No, I just- I was working on the next campaign." He's lying. He has at least two adventures queued up at all times.

"No banshees, I hope." You eyeball him, taking the joint from his hands.

"No, no banshees this time." He smiles, enveloping you in his shining, dark brown eyes. He paces around your room, scanning your knick knacks as he usually did before sitting on the side of your bed with you.

You're so close to him, your soft thigh nearly brushes against his. You pass him the joint, but his distracted hands fumble and drop it on your carpeted floor.

"Shit," he snaps as he quickly leans down to grab the burning joint. You notice something in his pocket, aside from his regular bandanna. It's a familiar black silk with red lettering. Your underwear.

"Eddie," you furrowed your brow, still staring at the cloth in his pocket. "Are those my panties?" His face instantly turns red. He quickly straightens back up on the bed, wide eyed, unable to find an excuse.

"I uh, I-" he stutters, certain you'll never talk to him again after this.

"Have you been... carrying these around?" You question. Eddie raises an eyebrow noticing the tone if your voice sounds excited, not accusatory.

"I just-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Have you been touching yourself, holding my panties?" A wicked grin spreads across your face. You begin to lean forward, confidently. Eddie's breathing gets heavier as you draw closer, filling his nostrils with the sickly sweet scent of your perfume.

"I don't know what you did to me the other night, Y/N. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." He huffs, inches away from your lips.

"Good, because I fucking meant it." You tease in a whisper before connecting your lips to his. A desperate moan vibrates against your mouth as Eddie firmly wraps his arms around you. His fingertips dig into any skin they find. He clings to you, pulling you closer and closer until you're in his lap, grinding against his bulge.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" He questions you between kisses.

"I dunno, I was fine with my fantasies. You're the one that couldn't help himself, you fucking pervert." You moan the last word against his lips, causing his eyes to roll back. He knew you were right.

He slips his hands under your shirt, sliding them up your back. He brings them to your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples.

"No bra?" He licks his lips, focusing on the movements of his hands over your skin. Soft moans fly from your lips as his hands get rougher and rougher the longer he toys with you. He suddenly shifts and throws you back into your pillows. "I am going to fucking ruin you." Eddie grins.

He swiftly and easily swipes your shorts and panties off in one go, stuffing the new pair of underwear in his pocket proudly. Without much warning, he dives his tongue directly into your dripping cunt. You both moan on contact, your eyes rolling back as his tongue found every single angle that made you want to scream.

He digs his nails into your thighs, pulling you more and more into him. He eats you out until you're almost literally seeing stars. Having came at least twice since he started.

"Eddie, please!" You yelp as you pull at his frizzy hair, desperate to be fucked.

"Shhh, doll." He coos from between your legs. His lips and chin are glossy from your arousal. "I want you to show me what your mouth can do, first."

Eddie withdraws from you, leaving your cunt begging for contact. Whiney moans escape you as you buck your hips against nothing. He stands and pulls his pants down to his knees before sitting back down on the bed. Instinctively, you slid into the floor on your knees in front of where he sits. The perfect height for your mouth to wrap around his cock.

You playfully refuse to open your mouth at first, but Eddie grips the hair on the back of your head and your bottom jaw, forcing your lips open for him. His grip remains on your hair, guiding your head up and down his shaft. You meticulously work your aforementioned tongue ring against his flesh, earning loud, vulgar moans.

"Jesus, fuck Y/N." He breathes as you hollow your cheeks around him, pulling your mouth off with a pop. You rub his head back and forth across the ball of your piercing, watching him squirm as you stimulate the sensitive skin. With one more loud growl, Eddie tugs your hair, signaling you to stand.

He switches your places, shoving you against the bed, ass up with your head shoved into the sheets. He pumps his middle finger into your on-display pussy. The cold of his rings biting against your entrance. You can't help but moan loudly, almost screaming just from his fingers.

"We can't have all that." Eddie chuckles as he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the underwear you were wearing not long ago. He balls them up and stuffs them into your whining mouth, muffling your moans. "That's better."

He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up and sinking into you slowly. Long, breathy moans emit from his chest as he thrusts over and over. By now, you're screaming into the wad of fabric in your mouth, drool pooling at your lips as you let the lust envelope your entire body.

You've had fantasies, of course. But nothing could've prepared you for the real thing. He continues to thrust into you, gently playing with your clit until you're squirming so much, that he can't hold you still.

He promptly removes himself from you, flipping you on your back. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, tearing it away from you.

"You are un-fucking-real." Eddie smirks as he marvels over your fully exposed body waiting, legs spread, just for him. In the blink of an eye, he's back inside you. Thrusting as hard as he can to make your tits bounce like they did in the van. You claw and grip at the sheets, eventually spitting the panties from your mouth to beg.

"Eddie, please, I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." He snaps.

"Eddie!"

"Not. Fucking. Yet." Each word punctuated by another hard thrust. His thrusts slowly became sloppy and offbeat. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a loud cry as you finish, flooding his cock and pelvis. Eddie follows suit, throwing his head back as his dick twitches inside you, warmth flooding in your lower abdomen as he fills you with cum.

"E-Eddie..." You stutter as he's still fucking you, slowly riding out his orgasm. He collapses on top of you, still inside. His heavy breathing in sync with yours.

"God damn, dude." He gasps before slipping out of you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief when he plummets another finger in your throbbing hole.

"Eddie!" You yelp, arching your back at the sudden contact. He chuckles, bringing the finger to your mouth, coated in each of your cum. You sensually lick his finger clean, watching as his eyes roll back.

"C'mere. Let me help you get cleaned up." Eddie extends a hand to you. You take it and stand on two wobbly legs as you attempt to make it to your bathroom. Cum leaks down your struggling legs with each step. Eddie helps you draw a bath and clean up before you both collapse on your bed.

"Here," you huff, passing him another joint.

"I think you're my dream girl." Eddie stares at you with his big, puppy dog eyes. "Seriously."

"About time you noticed, Munson."

The next Friday rolls around and the club torments you both relentlessly.

"Oh, don't worry. We know Y/N completed her dare." Gareth snorts.

"What does that mean?" You question, already blushing.

"I mean my house is right across from yours and I could see Eddie watching you through your window. Didn't look like his hands were praying." The curly headed guy laughs.

"Watching me?" You furrow your brow, growing slightly wet at the thought.

"Never mind that, it's time for Dungeons and Dragons. Bow to your Dungeon Master and kiss the rings." Eddie announces.

"No way, those have probably been inside Y/N's pussy." Jeff laughs, earning a playful arm punch from you.

"They have been in her pussy, that's what makes it oh so cool to kiss them." He winks at you, kissing the ring on his middle finger. The rest of the club groans and rolls their eyes.

•

(Bonus points if you got that Righteous Gemstones reference.)

#eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #requested #request #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

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alistairsmonstercafe · 4 months

Text

SFW 141 With a Dolphin Hybrid Reader

NOTICE; GN/Male Reader

ADDITIONAL; I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION; @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr

NOTE; To them you probably sound like a person who gets high off poison lets be honest.. Fuckin' Dolphins.. (I love them)

When Price first recruits you, he instantly knows you'll be a fucking great swimmer with those tail and fins, and marvels at the fact you're able to still breathe out of water.

Price takes notice of both your playful or reserved nature, and while he doesn't mind it, it'll be hell once you meet Soap.

Price is sure to train you for more on land situations, after all, there aren't as many missions in the water compared to the land, and he hopes you don't catch him smoking. He isnt sure how well your lungs could handle it on top of being on land.

Although Price gets a little concerned when you get a little too close to the pufferfish nearby on tropical missions..

Soap takes notice of you pretty early on, his nose is sharp when he smells the ocean on you, and gets excited at such a unique scent. And if you're as fast as you say, you know you'll both be racing around the militarys pool. (You, often win of course, but Soap still attempts it.)

Soap hears of the way you consider your family a pod, as he considers the 141 a pack. Purring at the thought of possibly hunting together for the group sometime!

Soap isnt as vocal with his sounds like Gaz in comparison to Price or Ghost, but still loud enough. He sounds like a motor engine, purring and cooing at your little clicks, whistles, and squeals.

Soap who also notices you have like, no fucking body hair. Like hello? You dont seem to have much of an odor and not much hair, lucky bastard is all he can grumble out, but he doesn't mean it to much to heart.

Its Gaz who's able to almost mimic your sounds back, he's trilling and chirping to you happily while the other guys watch in mild interest at your little chirp fest. It's only unless they get interrupted that Gaz returns a little more reserved with a grin on his face after what just happened.

Gaz who admires your personal whistle, its sharp and keen, almost like his own call, and you two are both quick to use it during missions.

Gaz who notices how much you eat, and hell is amused compared to concerned and even urges you to eat more, unaware of your second stomach. Its until you tell him that hes surprised that one stomach is for storage and the other, actual consumption.

Gaz who notices your echolocation in the water, marvelling at the sharp and precise echo as you maneuver through the water quickly and cleanly.

Its Ghost who obviously, takes time to watch you, you're the kind of lad who needs a team to function. He can respect such a thing, after all a majority of 141 is created of hybrids who work together, and surprisingly well.

Although Ghost's a little surprised at your horrible sense of smell compared to, say, Soap, or even Price and his old nose.

But Ghost appreciates your sense of logic. After all Dolphins are considered smarter, and he puts that to the test at times with quick questions on the battle field of what to do next. If he deems it a good answer he may apply it to the battle tactic.

In the end, the 141 loves their local dolphin.

#cod #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #gn reader #male reader #monster au #alistair writes ☕️

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head-vampire · 1 year

Text

Vampire Tales issue #9 (1975)

Art by Josep Martí Ripoll

Source

#marvel #marvel monster group #horror #70s #horror pulp art #josep martí ripoll #vampire tales

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

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Do you have any games that involve urban fantasy with less focus on fighting than something like Dresden or Shadowrun?

THEME: Urban Fantasy (Minimal Fighting)

Hello there! What I've got here is quite a mix, I wasn't sure how much violence you wanted (or didn't want) so I have a little bit of romance, a little bit of nostalgia, and a little bit of horror!

City of Mist, by Son of Oak Games.

City of Mist is a role-playing game of film-noir investigation and super-powered action. It is set in a modern metropolis rife with crime, conspiracies, and mysteries. The protagonists are Rifts, ordinary people who became the living embodiment of a legend, their Mythos. While your Rifts may seek to strike a balance between the mysterious nature of their Mythos and their mortal aspirations, the powers within them always threaten to tear their lives apart. They have unwittingly become a part of a secret world of clashing stories, and soon other legends will come looking for them with demands.

City of Mist is a combination of PbtA and FATE, giving your characters descriptive tags to use for both their benefit and their detriment as they go about solving mysteries in a supernaturally-saturated city. The primary theme of the game is mystery, and thus more than anything your characters will be primed for investigation. That’s not to say that there isn’t violence - but violence and fighting can be de-emphasized if the group is more interested in the mystery side of things.

Character Creation involves a combination of mundane and supernatural themes, as your character is endeavouring to strike a balance with the parts of themselves that they recognize (student, parent, office worker, ex-partner) and the parts of themselves that are hard to understand (mythical beast, deity, folktale, urban legend). What’s important to define is your daily routine, your personality, and what kind of supernatural powers you have.

This game isn’t explicitly anti-violent, but it absolutely provides you with ways to solve problems that aren’t violent, so I think City of Mist is worth checking out.

Scary Monsters & Nice Sprites, by Pammu.

Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites is a narrative RPG about spending your night in one of the only clubs in your city that’s safe for creatures of the night like yourself. All you want to do is have some fun just like the humans do. Play a supernatural creature of choice, put some sick EDM on the speakers and get your game on!

This game works best for an even number of players, up to 6, and is GM-less. It combines urban monsters with flirting, dark clubs and hookups. Each of your characters will look for a partner by doing things that will appeal to the other players. If they like what you do, they’ll reward you with tokens, which you can spend to improve the atmosphere of the club. Fill another player’s intimacy meter, you’ve won them over, and the two of you decide how the night ends for both of your characters.

If you want a game about flirting and the magic of a nightclub, this is your game.

The Far Roofs, by Jenna Katerin Moran.

The Far Roofs is an original role playing system and bundled campaign using pens or pencils, paper, six-sided dice, ten-sided dice, playing cards, and a bag of letter tiles. It's complete in one volume: with this one book and the equipment above, you'll have everything you need to play.

As the story progresses, your characters will gain access to over 150 unique, narrative-focused powers developed and refined over the course of a decade for the Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG before being simplified and adapted for use herein.

The Far Roofs is still being Kickstarted, but Moran’s work on Chuubo’s Wish-Granting Engine produced a game that emphasizes wonder and emotional experience. The Far Roofs looks to deliver along the same lines, and the examples of play point towards investigation, social interaction, and magic powers. Jenna Moran is also known for her unique and evocative storytelling in her work, so I think it’s definitely worth checking out.

Lighthearted, by Kurt & Kate Potts.

Welcome to the magical 80s dream world of Lighthearted. You are a Prep, Jock, Geek, Rebel, or Outcast, like those kids in The Breakfast Club, except you are just about to start magic community college. Through play, we'll explore how you grow out of your high school cliques all while dealing with magical mishaps, college parties, vampires, and worse—finals!

Lighthearted is a complete tabletop roleplaying game that uses the language of film and television to reimagine the coming of age stories popular in 80s teen movies like Weird Science and Sixteen Candles, but with a modern fantasy spin. It's set in an alternate 1980s with fantasy elements weaved into the most outlandish bits of 80’s pop culture. There are fantasy religions mixed in with mall culture, dark magic cold wars, and magical glamours instead of plastic surgery.

This is a game of magic and coming-of-age, as you play first-year students at a magical community college. You’re off to the big city, and the big world - will you survive your first college party? Your first vampire?

The whole game feels like the neon lights of a vibrant night-life combined with the nostalgia of an 80’s film. Your magic is attached to how you feel, so as your emotions change, so will your effectiveness at certain actions. If you want a game that’s as light as its name, and you are seeking out rosy-tinted nostalgia, this might be your game.

Changeling: the Lost, by Onyx Path.

Once upon a time, they took you from your home. They promised you a place at their side, and meaning in your life, and they surrounded you with beautiful things. But the beautiful things were oh so sharp, and they laughed when you bled.

Day by day, they changed you. But day by day, your will grew stronger. On the last day, you smashed your way through the beautiful things and ran, not noticing as you bled or feeling as you cried.

You fought with courage and cleverness and took yourself home. Now the beauty and the horror are yours, to have and to hold and to live.

Welcome to once upon right fucking now.

So I’m familiar only with the 1st edition of Changeling, but as far as I understand, the setting and core premise of the game is the same in the 2nd edition. Changeling: the Lost is a game of fairy trauma. Your characters are survivors of a fae horrorscape, a place both wondrous and terrifying all at once. This game is solidly in the horror genre, but it contains within it a taste of the magical, and it’s also the reason I got into roleplaying in the first place.

As in many Chronicles of Darkness games, fighting is an option in here, but it’s not a wise option. Getting into fights pulls at your characters’ ability to understand the difference between our world and the world of Fae, it’s very easy to sustain supernatural damage that is hard to heal, and, well, sometimes it’s hard to tell who your real enemies are in the first place.

I’d say that Changeling is more of a political game than anything else. Your characters will have to dance through the highly literal wording of faerie pledges, and untangle difficult relationships between Courts that are both safe havens and potential beds of sedition. This is a violent game, but much of the violence possible in Changeling isn’t physical - it's emotional.

This Night On The Rooftops, by C.M. Ruebsaat.

This is a game about gazing out over the smokestacks after dark, with the wind in your hair and a friend at your side and a thousand lights of progress on the streets below.

This Night on the Rooftops is a collaborative storytelling game for 2-5 players about friendship, growing up, and revolution. You will play members of a gang of children in The City, a fantastic world of industry and dying magic, where witches labour alongside factory-workers to make ends meet.

This game looks slightly less modern, but it takes the fantasy aspect of witchcraft and places it inside an industrial city. The game uses a modified version of the No Dice No Masters rule set, which is excellent for stories that have an ebb and flow to them, managed through the use of token expenditure. This game is also GM-less, giving everyone at the table the same amount of control over what happens next.

Since the characters are a gang of teenage witches looking to make ends meet, this game doesn’t strike me as one that prioritizes fighting or violence. The city looks big enough to grind up the characters if they’re not careful, so they’ll likely have to find solutions to problems that don’t get them (or their dependants) in trouble. If the game is like other No Dice No Masters games that I’m familiar with, the group will also have a big say over which elements of the city are the most intriguing to them.

Partners: The Urban Fantasy File, by Tin Star Games.

Some murders are just elf defence…

Vampires are real, magic is real, elves are real - and murder is still very very real. This expansion takes you and your Partner down the moonlit streets of urban fantasy, where the dead sometimes get back up again but crime is still a mystery needing two heads to solve.

The base game for this, Partners, is a two-player mystery-solving game about a pair of detectives, a straight-shooter and a wildcard. You’ll need the base rules to play, but this supplement brings in dead elves, suspicious vampires, and other common characters in any urban fantasy genre. It can work as a one-shot, or as a series of episodes. If you want a game that's primarily about solving a mystery more than anything else, this is is for you.

Solacebound, by Sascha Moore.

Young monsters played at the boundary between the worlds. They slipped and stranded in a human city. Isolated and unwelcome, they search for each others help and a way back.

Solacebound is a GM-less Game for 3-5 people to play over a few hours. Search a sprawling, oppressive city for your friends, find out who is willing to give you a roof, bash back against authorities, cook together and console each other. Will you find a way back home before all passages close?

You are teenage monsters trying to find their way through an urban environment, in a place that is hostile to them. You survive by hiding out, finding each-other, and do things together to make sure you keep each-other healthy. Cards from a deck act as resources, but also as an oracle to help you describe the fallout of any given action, and the emotions that are attached to it. This is a game about metaphors, about what it is like to live in a place that fears you, so I definitely recommend making sure the entire table knows what this is about before starting a game.

You Might Also Want to Check Out

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #urban fantasy

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writerscafehub · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑❜𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

/) /)

( • ༝•)

c /づづ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 all the works made by the very talented members of the writer's café server in the month of OCTOBER. we ask, and highly encourage, that you reblog them in support. ♡

ALL WORKS ARE FOR THOSE 18+ ONLY.

𖥔 indicates smut

✶ indicates dark elements

By ☁︎☽ Cocoa ☁︎☽ @cocoamoonmalfoy @darksideofthecocoamoon

𖥔 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟕 | god of spring!timothee chalamet

Part seven of the crown him series

✶ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 | the beast

Imagine a twisted beauty and the beast. Reverse kidnapping: I’m in your house and I’m not leaving

𖥔 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈��𝐄𝐃 | bard!timothee chalamet

An unlikely trio on an impossible quest pick up a stray along the way

𖥔 ✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓 | soft!dark!king hal

Hal could sympathize with Hades, for after seeing the light of life, how could he not pin it close to his darkness

𖥔 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄 | king hal

Hal finds that sitting for his portrait isn’t bad at all

𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑 | prince hal

Disowned or not, the son of the king needed to be protected

By ★ Jen ★ @jen-with-a-pen

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | art student!frat brother!steve rogers

Steve can’t remember what happened last night, but his body sure does. Regret is the worst hangover of all - even more so when you can’t remember what you regret

✶ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐓 | bucky barnes

Being held captive and experimented on definitely wasn’t in your job description. After what seems like months in HYDRA captivity, rescue finally arrives - but what is rescue if not relief from suffering.

By 𖠰 Nat 𖠰 @the-iceni-bitch

𖥔 ✶ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐇𝐄𝐌 | kinktober masterlist

Prepare yourselves for a month filled with wicked and scandalous delights, with vicious and freakish lovers for whatever type of monster you may fancy

By ❈ Beanie ❈ @shadeysprings

𖥔 ✶ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 | kinktober masterlist

Four stories with captivatingly dark themes

𖥔 ✶ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 | dark!pete brenner

You work hard to entice the biggest possible client for your company, but he has his own ideas for you to make you say yes

𖥔 ✶ 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 | dark!ransom drysdale

Ransom makes it known why breaking up with him is wrong.

𖥔 ✶ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘 | priest!lee boedecker

The new priest of your church asks you to sing for him.

𖥔 ✶ 𝐍𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐔𝐓 | serial killer!lee boedecker

With the serial killer targeting boys, you thought you were safe. Until you weren’t.

By ❥ Courtney ❥ @chasingmidnights

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | thirteen nights of halloween masterlist

13 Nights of Halloween and each night is going to be a different (what I'm calling) "campfire stories". Each story is going to be told by a different character ranging from Chris Evans characters to Sebastian Stan characters to Marvel Characters. Make sure to take a look at the Intro to meet the various characters! So, gather around the fire and try not to get too scared.

By ⚔︎ Suz ⚔︎ @targaryenvampireslayer

𖥔 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | ghost!bucky barnes

Bucky was taken from you by HYDRA a year ago. You mourn him and miss him, until you start dreaming of him… until he starts coming back to you

By ✵ Selene ✵ @fluffyprettykitty

𖥔 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐊 | sugar daddy!sam wilson

Quick and dirty sugar daddy Sam Drabble.

By 𖤛 Roo 𖤛 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

✶ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐉𝐀𝐇 | yelena belova

You find a stranger at your door, a visitor you can’t make leave

✶ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀 𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 | kraven the hunter

You catch the eye of a mysterious man who shares an unexpected secret with you

By ☆ Stella ☆ @a-lumos-in-the-nox

✶ 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

A group of friends decide to explore the haunted house on the shortcut back to campus. Ignoring the 'No Trespassing' signs. They ease drop in on a meeting between beings, mortals have never lived to tell tales about. And find out the consequences of ease dropping on the annual Hallows Eve meeting.

𖥔 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 | druig and makkari and female!oc

The kink alphabet for the threesome

𖥔 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 | druig and female!oc

Reader is horny but won’t do anything about it because she is busy doing other things. But her husband who can read minds can hear her inner struggle and does something about it.

𖥔 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | druig and makkari and female!oc

Makkari has a surprise field trip for Juni and Druig. They don’t know where they are going. It is her turn to pick where they meet up this time.

By ☄︎ Ellie ☄︎ @mrsmischief209

𖥔 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 |

Introduction to Kinktober

𖥔 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 | billy russo

Inspired by the song ‘Slow Hand’ by the Pointer Sisters

✶𖥔 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 | softdark!frank castle

Inspired by the song ‘Breath’ by Breaking Benjamin

By ☪︎ Gina ☪︎ @slvttyfied

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | chef!ari levinson

Cause baby I can build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me and every day is like a battle but every night with us is like a dream

By ✯ Vic ✯ @sunflowersteves

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 - 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐉 | carmen berzatto

Carmen knew you were a bit inexperienced, so what better way than to show you how?

By ⚘ Akane ⚘ @haravath0t

𖥔 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 | college au!alhaitham

College AU headcanon

By ⎈ Navy ⎈ @navybrat817

𖥔 ✶𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 | various SS and CE characters

One shots and ficlets for the month of October

𖥔 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 | bucky barnes

You want Bucky in your mouth. Simple as that.

By ✍︎ Em ✍︎ @writing-for-marvel

𖥔 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 | mob!bucky barnes

Newlyweds Mob!Bucky and wife!reader explore Europe and each other during their honeymoon.

By ❀ Ali ❀ @flordeamatista

𖥔 ✶ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | various SS and CE characters

Kinktober inspired by tarot cards and their auras

𖥔 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 | lee boedecker

A tale of your wicked deeds.

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐒𝐄𝐓

By 𐀔 Alex 𐀔 @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

𖥔 𝐁𝐔𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | masterlist

Spooky season stories heavily inspired by Hozier’s album, ‘Eat Your Young’

𖥔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | rockstar!sam/steve/bucky

When your friends invite you to a rock show and the drummer invites you back to his hotel room, you might get more than you bargained for yet…

By ✬ Astro ✬ @astrorogers

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑 | wanda maximoff

The Scarlet Witch has arrived which means her familiar must finally reunite with her.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 | wanda maxinoff

Wanda teaches kitten about Halloween

𖥔 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐀𝐒𝐊 | mistress!wanda maximoff

Mistress!Wanda x sub!kitten reader smut

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luimnigh · 7 months

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Okay, I wanna pitch a Marvel movie.

Now, this is a Marvel movie that will absolutely never get made. They would not allow this. So here's my pitch:

We open on a heist. A group of absolutely Z-list, one-paragraph-on-the-marvel-wiki, single-digit-appearance-count supervillains robbing a secure facility. The villain that hired them narrates the plan as we watch, and while it doesn't go off without a hitch, some of the more bloodthirsty villains cause some unecessary bloodshed, it succeeds.

Our villain protagonists leave the scene in a van, loot inside, and drive off into the countryside to a rural, isolated house in the forest to lay low for a couple days. Everyone's celebrating their success, they're drinking, there's some drugs, a few people sneak off for sex. This is the point where we get to know the personalities of our villains, some are assholes, some are complete monsters, and there's a few people who are pretty decent and are really only in supervillainy because life dealt them a shit hand. We can see factions dividing our group of villains.

Their boss finally arrives separately, sporting some more villains as muscle, and the conversation turns back to business: the division of the loot.

And then someone finds a body outside.

One of the villains has been murdered. Everyone is immediately suspicious of everyone else, accusations are thrown, motives speculated, tensions get higher and higher, weapons get drawn-

A shot rings out. Everyone either opens fire or runs. One or two villains die in the crossfire, others are injured, this goes on until one of the more sympathetic villains calls for a ceasefire.

They're in the middle of trying to talk everyone down when they hear a car engine start, and one of the villains who ran from the fight bursts out of the garage in the getaway van-

With the loot still inside.

A few of the villains fire shots at it, but are soon stopped- they could destroy the loot. The boss explains as the van drives down the road that with his resources, tracking the villain that's double-crossed them would be easy as-

And then the van explodes in the background.

As our main party of villains makes their way to the burning wreckage, flaming dollar bills falling around them, they speculate on who the hell boobytrapped the getaway van-

But are interrupted by a click.

One of our villains looks down to see that nobody boobytrapped the van. Someone landmined the road.

Thankfully, one of our villains is a techie, and after a few tension-filled minutes, they disarm the mine. The villain who stepped on the mine is thankful, and the techie explains that they should be able to clear the road soon enough, right before their head explodes in a shower of gore.

If the landmines hadn't made it clear enough, that certainly sealed the deal: this wasn't a double cross, this wasn't an ordinary murder.

They're being hunted.

This is a slasher movie.

The film continues on, the villains getting picked off one at a time in creative and gruesome ways, some even having their tech stolen and used to kill other villains. But throughout, we never catch a glimpse of the killer.

Right up to the end of start of the final act. By this stage, you've started to root for our supervillains to overcome this. There's a few assholes left you wouldn't mind seeing die before the final curtain, but the killer's will have lost sympathy by this stage, having killed some of the more likable villains. We wanna see them pay for that.

And just as the killer is stabbing one of those likable villains to death, our surving villains, and the audience, finally catch sight of the predator that's been stalking them through the night.

A man dressed all in black... except for big white skull painted on his chest.

And suddenly there's no guarantee that any of the villains you've come to like are walking away alive.

#marvel #mcu

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daydreamerdrew · 1 year

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The Defenders (1972) #61

#oh I love it when the Defenders are just hanging out together as a friend group #hehe the Hulk is so characteristically inconsistent in this #first he says ‘Hulk is not so sure Hellcat should have strange cape!’#then ‘do more cape tricks Cat-Girl!’#and then after his whole kerfuffle with the monster in the cape he says it’s ‘Hellcat’s fault for showing off’#and ‘Hulk thinks it was a stupid trick anyway’#as though he wasn’t the one encouraging her haha #and I like that he says ‘Hulk is sorry if he got Cat-Girl in trouble’ at the end 🥺#marvel #bruce banner #patsy walker #valkyrie #kyle richmond #my posts #comic panels

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stormyjane7 · 4 months

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Teasing the Wave

Summary:

Your party obtains the wavemothers robe. which looks amazing on your vampire lover. Who will out tease who.

TW: Wavemother Robe, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Cock Tease

Read on Ao3

The journey to Baldur’s Gate has been a long one. Many a monster and evil do-er have been felled.You just finished a quest for the Wavemother and were granted a robe. Astarion snatched it as quickly as he could from your hands.

“While I think this would look marvelous on you darling, let me have it first?” You couldn’t resist Astarion’s puppy eyed look and agreed he could have it first. You soon found out why. The slits in the robe hit just right around his lower hips, exposing his well toned thighs. You sucked in your breath as you noticed there was no way he was wearing underwear under this. He was setting you up for failure and upon noticing your looks at him, he gave you the most devious grin.

The small journey to the tavern you were staying at seemed even longer with the teasing Astarion was doing to you. A bump of the hip into yours, swaying his hips as he walked in front of you, and not to mention his normally saucy banter was dripping this time.

“Ah yes this robe is freeing, isn’t it darling? Every inch is just so happy to meet the air.”

Your group thankfully made it to the tavern. Gale ordered dinner for the group while everyone went to unequip their armor. You got a small reprieve from your lover as he stayed down with Gale, most likely to tease him too to get a reaction of of the poor wizard.

By the time you came down the food was ready and Gale was ten shades of red. Whatever astarion did had obviously worked. You smirked as you figured it was time for payback.

You sit down next to Astarion and start fixing your plate of food. Not too much incase your plan did indeed work.

“Have fun with Gale did you?” You ask as you put some of the roast into your mouth.

“Absolutely darling. Though you are much more fun to tease.”

“Well it’s not like you don’t get something out of riling me up.” I slide my hand down and onto his thigh giving it a squeeze.

His eyebrows shot up and a grin started to hit his lips. Shockingly he didn’t say anything to you.

You kept eating, giving a squeeze to his thigh every so often and moving your hand closer to his center tiny bit by bit. You could tell he was enjoying the attention and possibility of the moment as the robe had tented up. Which gave you access to him at last.

The entire time continuing talking with your other companions and eating. When you finally touch his cock he slammed a fist on the table which shocked the group.

“Everything okay Astarion?” Wyll asked with no indication he knew what was happening.

“Yeah fangs, that was a bigger response to the big joke than necessary.” Karlach added.

Before your lover could respond you rolled your thumb over the tip of his weeping cock. This time he growled as silently as he could. He glared up at you, almost egging you on for more. You slide the precum down the shaft so that you could then move up again with ease. That seemed to have completely set him off as he gently removed your hand, stood up, and threw you over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to excuse us for the evening. We’ll see you in the morning.” He started walking up the stairs while all of your friends gave you quizzical looks. You tried to play it off like nothing but you could tell they knew something naughty was up.

Once in front of the door to your room he sets you down to open the door for you. You walk inside with him behind you and he spins you around to close the door with your body. He puts his hips into yours while locking the door. ''I hope you are ready for the hell you have unleashed my dear. you feel that?" he rubs himself into you "This is all your fault."

You slide down the door and quickly lift the front of the robe. You lick the tip of his cock and let the robe fall over you. Like this he cannot see what you are doing. He braces his hands against the door.

“Oh you little minx.” He growls as you put your mouth around him fully. You hum your approval of his words which makes him buck forward. You slowly start moving your mouth up and down his length, sucking harder when you get to the tip.

Astarion is panting heavily now, bucking his hips forward to fuck into your mouth.

As he starts sputtering in his motion you know he’s close to cumming down your throat. The thought makes you moan which is what sends him over the edge.

“Gods. Yes!” He was fucking into you until his cock stopped twitching expelling his seed into you.

You look out from under the robe up at him with the biggest grin.

“You really thought you’d get to rile me up instead? I had to turn the tables on you atleast once Astarion. You were begging for it.”

“Ha! You really are a little minx. On the bed darling. It’s my turn to show my thanks for an amazing outfit that gets my love so heated.”

You grinned at how much you got to him today instead of the other way around. You’d pay dearly for it once he gets his hands on you. But Gods it will be so worth it.

#astarion #astarion x reader

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clangenrising · 2 months

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Month 13 - Newleaf

The thunderpath was oddly warm to the touch. Past the thunderpath, fields stretched out and eventually tapered off at the foot of the city’s farthest reaches. Smokyrose gingerly stepped onto the edge of it, marveling at its strange texture and acrid smell. She’d never actually touched it before, leaving such foolishness to cats like Yarrowshade who thought it was worth the risk to try hunting on the far side. Now it was her turn to take a necessary risk.

“Okay,” Songdust said, glancing side to side, “Should be safe to cross.”

“Thanks again,” Smokyrose said. “I really appreciate you coming with me.”

“I told you, Rose, I’m not gonna let you go in all alone,” Songdust said, swatting at her friend’s ear. “Now come on, let’s hurry before a monster comes.”

The two cats sprinted across the thunderpath as quick as their old bones could carry them. Smokyrose felt her heart rate spiking with the thrill of it. She smiled as they panted in the grass on the other side, glad that she wasn’t too old to appreciate a good dose of stomach fluttering excitement. After she’d caught her breath - which took a good moment or two longer than it did for Songdust to catch hers - they started again towards the city.

The plan was simple. Find Ghost and have a conversation. If she was lucky, she might also be able to sate a bit of her own personal curiosity, but that was secondary to the goal of making peace. Lives were at stake and in her paws.

They walked mostly in silence, Smokyrose sometimes huffing, out of breath, for a long time. Songdust suggested they break every now and then but she was determined to get there as soon as possible and so declined.

At one point, Songdust said, “I’d catch us something to eat but there’s almost nothing out here, it seems… Sad. This place used to be a really fertile hunting ground.”

“I must be scaring all the mice away,” Smokyrose laughed between labored breaths.

“No, I think it’s more than that,” Songdust frowned as she surveyed the grassland. “I don’t think the city cats know how to preserve next year’s hunt.”

“We’ll have to teach them,” Smokyrose smiled. Songdust hummed to herself and the two continued on their way.

Eventually, the smell of city cats came to them on the wind. Songdust stopped to taste the scent, tail twitching. Smokyrose gladly stopped as well, sides heaving with effort. She hadn’t thought she was so out of shape. She lifted her head to look over the grass and spotted three sets of ears, one shorter than the others.

“Hello, there!” She called, causing Songdust to stiffen. The cats ahead of them stopped, ears flicking in her direction.

“Who’s there?” one of the voices called, sounding wary.

“Friends,” Smokyrose said as pleasantly as she could.

After a moment, the cats crept closer, stopping again once they came clearly into view. The first of them, the one who seemed to have spoken before, was a short-furred white she-cat with a faintly grey speckled back and a notched ear. The second was a brown rosetted tabby tom around the same age with a notch of his own. The third and youngest of the group was a grey speckled tabby who looked no older than Oddstripe’s litter, ears intact. The small group regarded them carefully. The youngest opened his mouth to drink in their scent and his tail immediately bristled, arcing down behind him.

“They’re savages!” he squeaked in fright. The other two cats’ pelts prickled at the realization.

“Rude,” Songdust huffed, mostly to herself.

“I thought you said there weren’t going to be any wild cats!” the white one accused.

“Bucket said they don’t cross the road!” the brown one shot back, more offended than worried. “He said the Folk keep them at bay!”

“Well, clearly these ones got across somehow!” the white one hissed back.

Smokyrose laughed awkwardly to herself and tried, “I-it’s alright, really, we don’t mean you any harm.” All three of them snapped their attention back to her sharply. She smiled and continued, “My name is Smokyrose and this is my companion, Songdust.”

“I’m Mulch,” the brown one said carefully. Neither the white one nor the grey one offered their own names and after a moment of awkward silence, Mulch said, “What are you… doing out here?”

Smokyrose brightened. “I’ve actually come to speak with Ghost. Do you know him?” Mulch let out a breathy, nervous laugh and glanced at the others. The white one squinted suspiciously.

“Yes,” she said, speaking like she was testing out the ice on a frozen pond. “Why do you know Ghost?”

The younger one gasped excitedly. “This must be his wild girl!” The white one’s ear twitched.

“Bit old for a ‘girl,’ don’cha think?” Mulch muttered back with a chuckle.

Smokyrose blushed and pursed her lips shut in embarrassment. Ghost’s wild girl - what a ridiculous thought, like he owned her or something! Was that how he talked about her when she wasn’t around? She hoped not but bile rose in her throat nonetheless.

“I’m a mediator,” she said, choosing to ignore that for now. “I solve disputes and facilitate communication between parties. Ghost is the cat in charge, isn’t he? I’d like to speak with him and see if we can come to some kind of peace agreement.”

“Oh, she must know the Transgressor!” the youngest one whispered to Mulch.

“Will you shut up, Flick?” Mulch raised his brows indignantly and swatted the younger cat lightly in the face.

“Sheesh!” grumbled Flick, swiping half heartedly back at him.

“You want to make peace?” the white one scoffed disbelievingly.

“I do,” said Smokyrose and she meant it. “I want to try and resolve the conflict before anyone else has to die on either side.” The three city cats exchanged glances with a mix of what Smokyrose thought was suspicion, reluctance, and respect. They looked back at her then the white one jutted her chin towards Songdust.

“Why is she here?”

“I’m her protector,” Songdust said firmly. The cats shifted uncomfortably.

Mulch said, “Can we have a moment to discuss?”

“Of course,” purred Smokyrose, sitting down, “take your time.” Songdust sat down as well and they watched as the three cats shuffled off into the grass to talk, Mulch having to give Flick a tug on his scruff when he forgot to walk instead of stare. They kept their voices too low for Smokyrose to listen in but she didn’t mind. It was nice to rest for a bit and patience was something a good mediator had in spades.

After a few moments, the city cats came back and Mulch said, “Alright, we’ll take you into town.”

“Splendid!” Smokyrose purred, standing up. “I really appreciate the help.”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, looking uncomfortable. With a flick of his tail, he gestured for them to follow and started off back towards the city. As they went, Flick and the white one fell into step around them, almost like a guard. Smokyrose could feel them watching her every movement. It was almost flattering that they thought she would be able to try anything.

After a while, Flick leaned in and said, “I’m Flick by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Flick,” said Smokyrose, starting to huff again.

“The grumpy one is Jumper,” he added. The cat in question bristled.

Smokyrose kept her attention on Flick. “I see. What were you doing out here?”

“Don’t answer that,” Mulch shot back before Flick was finished opening his mouth.

“Apologies,” said Smokyrose, “I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Yeah,” Flick protested, “We were just talking.”

“Well don’t,” Mulch snapped, mostly at Flick. Glancing at Smokyrose, he added, “Sorry, but my brother doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “I’ll try not to encourage him anymore.” Mulch nodded, satisfied, and they continued towards the city in silence from then on. It was a longer walk than Smokyrose had been expecting. The more they went the more she realized the actual size of the twolegplace, the buildings starting to grow and loom in the distance like an angular forest with no leaves. Eventually one of these structures drew near, a large, rickety shape that smelled strongly of hay and manure. On the far side, she could see wooden planks arranged in repetitive rows and columns that created a barrier around a group of strange, smelly deer-like things.

“What are those?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Flick followed her gaze and said, “Goats. Do you not have goats on the frontier?”

“No, we don’t,” Smokyrose said, busy puzzling over the word ‘frontier’. She’d never heard it before but she had to assume he meant Clan territories.

“They stink,” meowed Songdust, face crinkled in disgust.

“Yeah,” Flick laughed. “But the Folk seem to like them anyway.” The Folk - that meant twolegs, right? She squinted at the creatures curiously. What would twolegs like about these goat things?

“Come on,” Mulch said, “we’re nearly there.”

They curved around the wooden structure, revealing another one, shorter but wider, and an expanse of gravel and dirt. Smokyrose winced at the texture of the rocks on her paws but soldiered on. She was so close. They crossed the gravel then followed along the edge of it for a while, leaving the structures behind, until they came to a large empty space of dirt surrounded by weeds and wildflowers.

Cats were scattered across the dusty field in pairs, sparring, most of them with notched ears. Cats wearing collars strolled around in between them, hissing orders or giving harsh corrections. A few cats watched from the edge of the clearing and one of them, a brown tabby tom with a silver collar that reflected the sunlight like a concentrated band of heat waves. The tom stood, head tilted, and started walking their way.

“Great,” Jumper said, “here he comes.”

“Shut up,” Mulch said, “This is fine. We’ll hand them off and be done with it.” They stopped where they were, waiting for the tom to close the distance. Smokyrose took in his appearance as he grew closer. He had a sleight build and slim cheeks giving him an almost kitten-like appearance despite his full grown size. His fur was a warm brown with dark, brindling stripes and a neat mask framing his green-yellow eyes. His collar, which seemed less shiny up close than it had far away, bore a small, blue, vaguely fish-shaped charm covered in geometric silver scratches.

He smiled as he neared them, bright and friendly, and said, “Well, now, what do we have here?”

“We ran into these wild-cats while we were out hunting,” Mulch said and Smokyrose picked up on the deference in his tone. “They crossed the road. Said they wanted to speak with Ghost.”

“Really?” The kittypet’s eyes widened with interest and he turned his gaze to Smokyrose, inviting her to speak.

“Yes,” she purred with a gracious dip of her head. “My name is Smokyrose and this is my companion Songdust. In my Clan I work to handle disputes and settle arguments and I wanted to speak with Ghost to see if we could make peace between our two peoples.”

“Well, Ghost is currently indisposed,” the tom said apologetically, “but I would be happy to take you to speak with Razor instead.” The cats who had escorted them all tensed at the sound of Razor’s name. Songdust took a step closer to her.

“Indisposed?” Smokyrose frowned in concern. “How so?”

The tom winced. “He recently had a bit of an accident and has been resting to regain his strength. I’m sure he’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, ears drooping. What kind of an accident? Her gut twisted in worry and she sent a silent prayer to StarClan to let him be okay.

“Why don’t you walk with me?” the tom offered, half turning towards the city.

“Alright,” She agreed. Despite her disappointment, she still had a job to do. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he purred. Looking at Mulch, he said, “You’re excused.” Mulch let out a relieved breath and nodded.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, then turned to the others and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Goodbye, Flick,” Smokyrose waved her tail. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Flick said. Mulch cuffed him over the ear and the little group turned and went the way they had come.

The kittypet lifted his head and called over to the other cats watching the training. “I’m off to see Razor,” he said, “You’re in charge, Dexter.” One of the other kittypets nodded. Lots of cats started to stare. The tom in front of Smokyrose and Songdust smiled at them again and said, “This way.” He led them down the edge of the gravel path, walking side by side with Smokyrose, tail curling back and forth in a friendly wave.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Smokyrose said, focusing in on him.

“You can call me Sardine,” he said. “I hope the others were good to you. I’d hate for the Chaff to give you a bad first impression of the city.”

“Oh, they were quite hospitable,” she exaggerated. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he purred. “You said you settle disputes among your people. Did they send you here or have you come on your own?”

“I have Goldenstar’s approval to go forward with peace talks,” said Smokyrose, even if that was not entirely true. Goldenstar had asked her to wait even if she was open to the idea.

“Goldenstar, that’s your leader?” he asked.

“Yes,” she purred. “She’s quite eager to see this conflict end peacefully.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I know there are many here who feel the same.”

“Really?” Smokyrose asked, her heart lifting in hope.

“Oh, yes,” nodded Sardine. “I think everyone will be relieved to have this whole war business over soon.”

“Good,” purred Smokyrose. That was a relief. She glanced at Songdust to share in the excitement but found her companion grim faced. She frowned slightly but shook it off. She would have to talk with Songdust once they had a private moment. Sardine was talking again and she returned her focus to him, answering all his curiosities pleasantly and asking questions of her own. Eventually the gravel turned to the hard stone of the thunderpath and Sardine asked them to stay close to him for their own safety.

“Just a bit further and we’ll arrive at Razor’s garden,” he said.

“Excellent,” she said, tail swishing. “I can’t wait.”

UPDATES: - Smokyrose ventures to the city to try and make peace.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Smokyrose #Songdust #Sardine #Flick #Mulch #Jumper #Newleaf #clangenrising

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