#once bitten/more hearts

[scara-writes]

paramour

Yandere!Cheating Duke X Duchess! Reader X Yandere!Lover Servant

I just want to write a reader who has the same/more power as/to the yandere(s).

The setting is still in the fantasy/manhwa world, medivial, any setting as long it's not modern.

CW: two yandere, rivals, cheating, consent smut, infidelity.

I'm making the darling a little more forward(?), daring, more power or that can go against a yandere. Atleast, that's what the darling thinks. Also, this is not polished like my other stories.[ Forgive me, I'm not good with smuts! I also love y'all comments and your ask/request(will answer them soon!). The Yandere Emperor and Yandere Crown Prince son really outnumbered the yandere Omega. Y'all are crazy for that!]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Mistress." He murmured. His arms hadn't let go off your waist. It was the first thing your eyes landed on when the sunlight came in to greet a new day from the window balcony. You closed your eyes again to find your way back to sleep again.

Your hands went to trace his back full of scar last night from your nails. You hummed when he gave you a pepper kisses on your exposed skin.

"Morning." He gave you one last kiss on your lips before snuggling between your chest. His arms hadn't move around your waist since last night."Mmmh..morning..." You muttered looking away—eyes still close—from the sun when it kissed your face.

"Do you want me to call the maids to serve you breakfast?" His sweet voice lull to sleep more. You whispered no. Last night, this man gave you something akin to that of heaven, something your husband never gave you.

Last night, you made love with this man. The same man you rescued from the human trafficking, kidnapping commoner from the outskirts of the kingdom. Now, indebted by your kindness he devout himself to you with his life.

You groaned, feeling your body is aching all over. This goes not unnoticed by your lover."Did I hurt you to bad?" He asked. His earth orbs are gleaming with shine and now getting filled with tears. "I-I'm sorry, I was rough with you mistress." His voice full of regret and loathe on himself.

You opened your eyes, ruffling his curly brown hair before stroking it. Staring down at his eyes. "No. You did good." You smiled at him, cupping his face, before kissing him in the lips. He whimpered,deepening his into yours.

The intoxication of alcohol must have taken over you. Drowning yourself from alcohol after your husband didn't arrive on the scheduled date, you waited for him for a whole day to arrive. Alone in the gazebo, Everett was the one who went to your weeping figure. That was a month ago. Everett offered himself to shower you with his love. At first you feel reluctant about this, you will never be the type of person to use someone just so you can feel yourself happy. Everett didn't care about it whether you use him or not. He wanted to prove himself that you are worth to be love. This man made your heart flutter in a way that your husband once gave you before the marriage.

"I-I love what happened last night, my mistress." He whispered bashfully, his pretty swollen lower lip,you bitten hard last night, went to reach his eyes giving you a wide smile. The sun kissed his tan face adding a charming look. His neck has full of bites and bruises from you. His cheeks become a little darker shade from blushing, he must have reminisced something last night.

Now, you made him your lover. Though not completely in love with Everett. You also shower him with items or materials that most commoners would love to have but it doesn't seem like this man is materialistic. He just wants you.

You didn't hide Everett to your husband.

What's the use of hiding your fling to Theodore when he was the first one to cheat on this marriage?

Despite being loyal to that man you loved. He had the audacity to tell you that you shouldn't pry on his private his life after you confronted him with a newly hired maid going out. "Our marriage contract states that the two parties should not meddle one another's private life else this contract shall be annuled."

So all of his flexing his love for you was nothing but a hoax? A show? A lure for you to agree to marry him?

Though, your marriage with him was for the politcial marriage. You once fell in love with Theodore. The same man who gave you flowers everytime you two date, the same man who kissed in your cheeks after he walk you home, the same man who always writes poems about his devotion to you. Did he pursuade you to continue this marriage by making you love him so that the two duchy became one? It may seem like you wanted this marriage at first. You didn't, your family wanted it and they have asked you—no annoyingly, they plead you to marry him, because your parents and his parents signed a contract that their children will reunite the two duchy.

"Your ladyship, the duke asked for your audience to join him in the breakfast." Your butler from the other side of your room, outside the door, knocked and speaks after. You frown upon hearing it, looking at the closed door, what does he want?

You feel strange about your husband nowadays. He had been asking for your presence this past few days. Never once he called for you after your wedding with him.

You clicked your tongue and turn to look at your lover. You saw Everett's face was frowning too. "Fine, tell him I'll be there." You announced to the butler. You look back at the man leaning his weight on you. You tap the curly haired lover to let you go from his hold yet he didn't budge after moving yourself to sit up instead you heard yourself going 'oomfh!' and find your lips were on his again. You groaned while he moaned weakly. He pushed you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours until you were out of breath. A string of saliva trailed between your mouths. Everett was smiling before diving his lips into your skin, to one of your chest, fondling the other. You feel a little ticklish and panting at his stimulation. "Eve—! Wait! Ah..." Your voices went unheard, The male's mewling sucking on to your flesh like thirsty man who hadn't had a drink.

Your hand went to tug his hair as you moaned out his name. "Shi—Eve... Oh! S-stop... Ah.."

His other hand goes to put one of legs above his back and parted the other leg, accessing himself between you even more."m-mistress!"

You groaned when you felt him grind between you. He looked at you with a pleading eyes, he look like he will cry again, the tears filling up yo the side from his eyes. "M-mistress." He whined his mouth was already in another mound. You feel his hardness between. "p-please? I'll be good! Please... huff..I'll make y-you feel good!"

Your eyes are hazy from the pleasure. "You want.. hah... it?" His eyes getting filled again with tears. You tug him by the hair not enough to hurt him. You landed your lips on his ears. Panting and breathless when you felt his hands is still fondling your body. "You got..ngh... to earn it, pretty boy." You murmurs made him whimpered. "You have to be my good boy... Are you my good boy?"

He nod, a tear fell down to his cheeks, he leaned down to your lips, murmuring, i-am-your-good-boys, thank-yous and I-love-yous.

The room filled with noises that could make anyone flustered and uncomfortable. You didn't realize from your high you are feeling that the butler is coughing uncomfortably behind the door excusing himself as he will inform the duke what you told him earlier.

You went down the stairs with a difficulty, aching between your thighs. You can't find any dress to cover the one hickey on your neck, Everett apologize and helped you cover it with a foundation but it failed horribly from covering seeing that the foundation wasn't blend well and you do not want your maids do it for you. Not when you found out that almost all of them had already been with your husband. You were planning to replace them sooner.

You stopped at the closed door leading to the dinning room. The butler from earlier straightened his posture, clearing his throat after he saw you. He announced your presence behind the door opening the door for you."My lord, your ladyship is here."

You walked in after thanking one of the male servant for pushing the seat for you once you sit across the lord of the household, your husband, the Duke.

The breakfast before you was served cold. If you have arrived earlier you could have eaten warm. You glance at your husband, surprised that his plate has not been finished and it looked like he didn't touched it. You noticed his eyes is trained on to you since you came in, yet his eyes isn't on you but to your neck and the way you walk earlier.

His grey eyes seemed to be narrowing, he scoffed. "You're late."

You glance away, picking one of the utensil, stabbing the meat, landing it to your mouth chewing it. You gulped it down before taking another bite. The marinated pork seems to be delicious even if the breakfast a little no warm.

"It seems you are enjoying with your toy a little too much." He added, there was anger rising beneath his voice.

Oh, the egg is a little bland but it is still edible nonetheless.

"There are more new reports about your speculated infidelity to the public. Do you know that?"

You looked at him after eating the last piece of the sunny side egg, smiling: finally acknowledging hus presence."Yeah, what about it? It's not like it will ruin our marriage. After all, you had a numerous of headlines about your 'rumored' infidelity too. Did our contractwas nulled after that? It didn't right?"

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, husband?"

His eyes widened a little before going back on giving you death gaze. "Kick that slave away. I don't like him." He demanded. Though he wasn't shouting. You frowned, how dare he?

"Why would I? It's my decision whether I choose to throw him out or not." L

"I do not want him near my property." He complained, gritting his teeth at the last word.

"This is my property as well!" You sternly answered back. Not leaving another room for an argument.

There was silence between the room.

"... I... don't want him near you." You heard him. You blinked at the sudden word that blurted in his mouth.

You scoff standing up, "I think I had my fill..." You starts walking back to where you enter the room.

"(Y/n)." Theodore called you. You didn't observe the way his eyes longed for you. You were focus on the anger within you. "Are we forgetting something, Theodore?" You questioned.

He pondered, those orb you used to love held a confusion.

"Meddling into your partner's private life will annul this marriage... Wasn't that written in our contract?" You bitterly told him. "Sounds familiar right? Do not dare demand me to throw away Everett." You added.

Finally waiting for this moment for this to happen. Guess he will get to taste his own medicine.

"... As long as we do our part in this household we will act as husband and wife. Is not that what you told me?"

"..."

"Now then, I will excuse myself. I have no longer desire to finish my breakfast here." With that, you leave him there.

When you reach the door, opening it, you were surprise to see Everett waiting outside. "What are you doing here?" You asked him. Your frowned face was replaced with a confusion look before giving him a small smile. The man infront of you return your smile with a small grin, placing one of his arm on your waist."W-well, I feel bored and alone in my own room. So I found myself waiting here w-with the butler. Besides I saw you walking wobbly earlier and I-I am concerned that you might have even more difficulty walking... So f-forgive me for not staying put." The look concern on his face adding the pout from his lips made him look cute.

"What are you a puppy?"You poke his nose giggling as you walk away with him, your eyes went back to talk to the butler. Telling him you want to continue your breakfast at your garden, asking him to make it for a two people. The butler bowing to your order before going to the kitchen area to order the maid.

Your husband on the other hand, loath with rage and jealousy mixing under his eyes. His eyes narrowed especially when the slave you brought in leaned on top of your head kissing at the crown part of your head, leaning to your ear to whisper something akin to sweet talks. The arm around your waist went rub your back.

If only you glance again on Everett's face. You would have caught him giving your husband a smug smirk.

#yandere #yandere lover #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere boyfriend #clingy yandere #yandere husband #yandere love #male yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere male x reader #male yandere #yandere servant #yandere x reader #yandere duke #soft yandere #yandere cheater #should I make readers like this? #love yall comments and requests <3 #updated my masterlist loll #yandere imagines

[bunnyreaper]

simon is your most precious bear, but he won't settle for just that.

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, mild moment of dubcon?)

you'd found him in a charity shop one day and couldn't walk away without him in your arms--the most darling little bear you've ever seen. 

the stitching on his button eyes was barely present, the threads on his body were also loose, and his fur was a little more than worse for wear. usually a sign of a bear well-loved, but you got the feeling looking at him and his missing smile that his state wasn't from something entirely different. 

you'd taken him home and treasured him ever since. restitched his eyes and his precariously hanging limbs, polished his little plastic nose and tied a ribbon around his neck.

you'd tried sewing in a smile underneath his cute little nose, but found the expression didn't quite suit him. when you tried again, arching the stiches downward, you found you much preferred him as your grumpy bear anyway.

once he was pampered and restored, you sat him pride of place on your pillow, having him guard you and keep watch over your bed whenever you weren't in it. at night you held him close, squeezed him tight until you drifted off to sleep--dreams that are always so sweet and peaceful, and you swear it's because he keeps the nightmares at bay. 

little did you know of the soul trapped inside--simon.

he'd fallen in love just as you had, obsessed with the way you'd looked at him and never stopped looking--obsessed with the way you cared for him and held him. he'd never liked being trapped as a bear until you took him home, where he belonged. 

now he took his role as your stuffie very seriously. and clearly, it paid off, as he quickly became the favourite of all your plushies--the one you treasured above all others.

fair to say simon had captured your heart, and in turn, he was always doted on and adored by you. never was he allowed to slide off the bed to be forgotten, never was there a day that went by where he wasn't kissed or cuddled by you.

but sometimes he had to be moved from his place, his spot. when you had visitors over, he'd be replaced in the bed by strange figures, stuck on the nightstand as a spectator to it all.

the comforts they provided were different, bringing bitten lower lips and breathy moans rather than sweet smiles and gentle whispers. and all the while simon was trapped, doomed to watch other men in the bed the two of you shared--knowing deep down in his stuffing that if he were just human again, he could do a much better job. 

late one night, after another visitor, you return to the comfort of your bed with simon clutched between your arms. you squeeze him as tight as you can--a sweet, satisfied smile leaving you as you hold him close and embrace the comfort and safety he provides.

"one of these days, they won't be disappointing." you sigh, releasing your disappointment and unknowingly unleashing wishful magic

it's then simon feels it, something inside him he hasn't felt in so long, as his body shifts from bear to man. 

he should do something about the way you scream, soothe you as he usually does, but right now, there is nothing calming or comforting in the way he feels right now--just pure posessive lust. codependant, ugly love. 

simon takes advantage of his newfound form, using muscular arms to crush you into the bed, determined to make up for lost time no matter what it takes. his dick hardens instantly, so used to the feel of your body against him and yet intoxicated by all the new sensations.

he expects you to keep struggling, to fight back in disbelief, but when the shock wears off he delights in the way you look at him--just as enamoured as you had the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #bunny writes #this is for you noel please perceive me

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one. 

#i was cleaning up my google docs and found this fully written piece that i never did anything with so #here ya go i suppose #this was not really read over a bunch so sorry for any typos #my writing #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fluff #steddie drabble #steddie fic #future happily married steddie with a daughter my most beloved #crossposted on twt! find me there @starry_stevie

[nadvs]

cam girl (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next time you log in to the cam website, your heart is racing. Throughout your classes that day, all you could think about was how hot the session with the man you thought was a stranger was last night.

But he isn’t a stranger. He lives in the mansion you get paid to clean twice a week, where he taunts you every chance he gets, practically fucking you with his eyes.

Does Rafe know it’s you on the camera? Is this a sick little game he’s enjoying, thinking you don’t know it’s him? Or maybe he’s aware you know who’s behind the account and he wants to see if you’ll say something about it?

But you do such a good job hiding your face. He can’t know it’s you.

You wonder if it’s wrong to continue doing the nightly private sessions knowing his identity. But when you remember how much joy he gets from berating you while you clean his house, you figure it’s ridiculous to care about the ethics of it.

You try to focus on the fact that you’re making so much money. Rafe gave you over $1500 last night. And he wants to keep paying you for every session. At this rate, you won’t have to worry about bills or your college tuition at all.

You closed your cam girl account to all other subscribers and posted a note that you were no longer streaming. The truth was, you were, but for one man only.

The thought of Rafe lying in bed jacking off to you turns you on before you even start the chat with him.

You take a deep breath, your hand hovering over your laptop trackpad. Rafe Cameron is going to watch you get naked and touch yourself and it makes your stomach feel like it’s flipping.

You start the private session.

Your screen fills with the image of you from your lips down to your feet as you’re curled up on your bed. You’re in a sheer white nighty with no bra or panties on underneath, your body hardly hidden beneath the smooth fabric.

Rafe called your tits perfect last night, so you figured he’ll appreciate you having them on display right when he logs in.

figure8 has joined the session.

You swallow hard.

figure8: been thinking about you all day princess

His words give you butterflies. You try to keep your confidence at the same level now that you’re aware of who’s on the other side of the chat. You refuse to be intimidated knowing it’s Rafe.

“Yeah? What about me?” you ask.

figure8: how pretty that pussy is and how im gonna watch you fuck it from behind

You feel the blood rush to your face. You know he has a filthy mind from the comments he makes to you at his house while you work, but this is more than you ever expected.

“Should I go slow for you again?” you whisper. “I know you like that.”

figure8: what a fast learner

You smirk. There’s the Rafe you know. He has such a natural talent for mocking you.

“You like this little outfit?” you ask him, your hands running down the fabric on your chest, fondling your tits. “I wore it special for you.”

figure8: so fucking hot. bounce those tits for me

You sit up on your knees and arch your back, lightly bobbing on the bed with your hands up in your hair. He has a perfect view of your chest beneath the sheer nighty, your nipples hard under the fabric as your tits jiggle up and down.

figure8: damn. i’d leave hickeys and bites all over those tits. you like to get bitten dont you princess. i know you like it rough

With every other viewer you’ve had as a cam girl, you’ve lied about your preferences just to get tips, but with Rafe, it’s like he knows exactly what you want. You haven’t had to lie to him once.

“I fucking love it rough,” you moan. You put your hands up to your tits and squeeze hard. “I want you to leave marks on me.”

figure8: i’d leave them all over your tits and your ass

“Yeah? Would you spank me? Hard enough to leave a handprint?” you ask, turning around and slowly lifting the nighty over your butt. You stick out your ass for him and sway it slowly for him.

figure8: fuck yes. shake your ass

You spread your knees wider and obey, looking back to watch your body on the screen. The thought of Rafe lying in bed fisting his cock while he watches you makes you get even wetter.

figure8: straddle your pillow. i wanna see how you’d ride my face

You tilt the laptop down so he doesn’t see above your mouth as you move to grab a pillow from behind the computer. You readjust the screen then straddle the pillow, the cotton soft against your naked core.

You start to buck your hips, shuddering immediately. You’re dazed already, desperate for his hands on you, as you rub your body against the pillow.

“I’d ride it fast like this,” you say breathily, humping the pillow.

figure8: my needy girl. my dick is throbbing watching you

figure8 tipped you $200.

figure8: that’s for riding it so well

“Thank you,” you purr, still grinding the pillow. The feeling of getting paid while doing something that feels so good is intoxicating. You’d do anything Rafe’s filthy mind desires.

figure8: don’t cum yet. i’m not done with you

You bite your lip in frustration.

“Okay,” you say heatedly. You slow down your thrusts, back still arched as you await your next instruction.

figure8: show me how you finger yourself. get your pussy nice and close to the camera

You shift to spread your legs in front of the camera, seeing yourself on full display for him.

figure8: start with one finger. i want you to work up to four. can you do that princess?

“I can do that,” you say shakily. You insert a forefinger into your warm, tight hole and let out a contented sigh.

figure8: pump it in and out slowly. add a second finger when you’re ready

You obey, stretching yourself out a bit before adding a second finger. Slowly, you add a third and writhe a bit. You push your hand back and forth, watching yourself on the screen.

You add your pinky finger and slightly tense up, your body rolling.

figure8: breathe through it. you can do it

You let out a shaky exhale as you continue, watching your fingers disappear inside of you.

figure8: good girl stretching that pussy out so nice. i bet you taste so fucking good. taste yourself for me

The request is so sinful, so unlike anything you’ve ever been asked to do. You slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth, making sure he can see your lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say to him.

figure8: you’ll do a lot of new things with me, princess

You taste your wetness, sucking on your fingers for him with a slurp loud enough for him to hear. It’s such an animalistic, depraved act, and you find yourself wishing you could do it with him in person, have him watch you do this in the same room.

figure8: god i want to taste you so bad

“I want to taste you, too,” you whisper. If only Rafe knew how accessible you were to him, in his house twice a week. “You know, you can send me photos whenever you want.”

figure8: desperate to see this dick aren’t you

You smile. He could not be more correct. You don’t know how you’ll manage to be around him in person and act normal knowing what you know.

Your stomach heats when you see that he sent a photo. He’s holding his cock, the curve of it so perfect, a pearl of precum leaking out of the tip.

“I want to use my mouth on you,” you keen. “My pussy is aching for it.”

figure8: i know you’d love the taste, princess. show me how you’d take my cock doggy style

Finally. You pick up your dildo and turn around, backing up towards the screen. You angle to slide the toy in slowly, feeling it fill you up, then move your hand so he can view you clearly.

figure8: i can see you dripping

Sure enough, you look down on your sheets to see drops of your own wetness. This man has got you hornier than you’ve ever been.

“That’s what you do to me,” you rasp. “Fuck, I bet you’d destroy me.”

figure8: that pussy would grip my dick so well. i’d fuck you so hard

“Can I please do it now?” you say breathlessly, throbbing with need.

figure8: only because you asked so nice

You dip your arm between your hips, knees sinking into your bed as you lean so your cheek is pressed against the mattress and out of the camera’s frame. You hold the base of the toy and shut your eyes and imagine Rafe’s warm, hard cock inside of you instead of a dildo you have to control.

Breathy moans spill out of you as you thrust the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. You picture him behind you, his hands on your hips as he ruthlessly thrashes in and out of you.

The orgasm slowly builds and builds.

“I’m gonna come,” you say, muffled. You bite your tongue, stifling the urge to call him by his name. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm ripples through with a powerful force, making you shake with pleasure.

When you finally regain enough energy, you sit up and turn to look at the laptop again. To your delight, you see that Rafe sent another photo.

You look closer at the image to see his cum sprayed across his muscular stomach, the white splashes of his pleasure glistening atop his abs.

“Shit,” you rasped. The image is so sexy that you feel yourself getting aroused again.

figure8: see what you do to me? i never cum this fucking fast

figure8 tipped you $100.

figure8: use the money to buy this. have it ready tomorrow

He sends a link in his next message. You open it to see a sex toy website. The page he sent is for a rose vibrator.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” you say breathily. “Thank you, baby.”

figure8: dont use it without me watching. understand?

“Yes,” you say.

figure8: sleep. you’ll need your rest for what im doing to you tomorrow

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat. You follow his instructions, ordering the toy right away and selecting the option to have it delivered tomorrow. What is he planning?

You decide to do some more online shopping, finding a top you know he’ll like.

After you buy the items, you stare at your laptop, reeling from what just happened.

You look at the pictures he sent again. Rafe was always such a cocky asshole whenever he taunted you at work and it definitely isn’t from overcompensation. He’s so well-endowed that you know it’d hurt so good having him inside you.

How would he react if you told him you were the girl he was jacking off to? Would he be embarrassed? Or relieved he could fuck you for real? Because you’d let him have sex with you. After tonight, there’s no doubt about it.

You close the laptop. It’s Thursday, meaning you’ll likely see Rafe in two days when you’re back at the Cameron estate on Saturday as scheduled. You typically see him around the house, but there are times where you don’t run into him at all.

You don’t know if you’d prefer to see him or not. How could you act normal after having him talk to you like that, after seeing his naked photos?

You try to go to bed right away, but your head is spinning.

The next night, you log in wearing skimpy white panties and the pink tank top you bought the night before, the word “princess” stretched across the front in white cursive letters.

Rafe joins the private session and you can imagine the smirk on his face once he sees your outfit.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, pinching the peaks of your nipples poking beneath the shirt. “You like my top? Bought it last night.”

figure8: its perfect. i want you to spoil yourself with every dollar i give you

You giggle and hold the small silicone rose toy up the camera.

“I was tempted to use it, but I didn’t,” you admit. “Promise.”

figure8: good girl. i hope you got your rest last night. im not paying you til you cum three times tonight

“Oh, my God,” you laugh. “Three? I don’t know…”

figure8: you can do it, princess. take ur panties off but keep that shirt on. don’t want u to forget who u belong to

His possessiveness is so attractive that you feel yourself getting wet already. You slide your underwear off, spreading your legs and putting yourself on display for him.

figure8: tell me what you’d want me to do if i was there. you’d like my head between your legs wouldnt you

You giggle, “You read my mind.” You put your fingers on your clit and close your eyes, imagining curling your fingers in Rafe’s hair as his tongue presses against your middle.

You would have never guessed that Rafe Cameron likes eating pussy, always having assumed he was selfish in bed. But he’s been surprising you since the first message he sent.

“I’d want you to start off kissing me right here,” you purr, “then you’d start using your tongue. Then you’d suck my clit.”

figure8: then i’d put my tongue deep inside your tight cunt

Reading the words makes you tremble. You lower your hand to spread your lips open and show him your opening.

“Right here?” you tease.

figure8: i want my face all wet from you

You groan, imagining his pretty face glistening, his pink lips swollen from eating you out.

You grow wetter and wetter as you touch yourself.

figure8: get the toy

You eagerly pick it up and hold your finger over the “on” button.

“Which setting?”

figure8: whatever will make u cum the hardest, princess

“You get off on me feeling good, don’t you, baby?” you tease.

figure8: those sounds you make are so fucking perfect. i’m already rock hard

“You want me to be loud?”

figure8: don’t hold back. i’ll count your orgasms with you ok? and on the third one, we’ll cum together

This man could not get any sexier if he tried. You curiously explore the toy, finally turning it on and hearing it buzz immediately.

You place it on your clit and the pleasure is instant. You let out a sharp exhale, imagining Rafe touching himself while he watches you.

The toy buzzes and suctions on you and it doesn’t take long at all for the first orgasm to roll through you. You don’t stifle the moan that comes out of you, knowing he’s enjoying it.

figure8: that’s one. that was so fast, princess

“I was horny all day,” you confess.

figure8: thinkin about me?

“Mhm. That picture of your cum all over your stomach is so fucking nice.”

figure8: then u can imagine how much i enjoy watching u fuck urself

“I want a video of you rubbing your cock,” you say impulsively. “I want to hear your sounds, too.”

figure8: you’re such a needy girl

“It’s why you like me,” you flirt. He doesn’t respond right away, making you anticipate that he’s recording a video for you.

A file from him pops up in the chat. You eagerly play it, watching six jaw-dropping seconds of his hand moving up and down the thick girth of his dick in his dark bedroom, his heavy breathing filling your ears.

“God,” you whimper. “I’m ready to go again.”

You pick up the toy and place it on your clit, pressing it down hard as it pulls another orgasm out of you after a minute. You moan out a jumbled, high-pitched mess of “oh, fuck”s as you cum.

Your muscles are tingling and tired. You’re not sure you can give yourself a third orgasm.

figure8: two. not done yet

“Maybe we stop here?” you whisper. “I’m already so weak.”

figure8: are u going to be a good girl or not

“I will,” you resign. “I will.”

figure8: go again. on the max setting

Feeling spent but determined to please him, you put the toy on your sensitive clit again. You hang your head back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling as you press the button a few times to turn on the highest level.

The toy’s suction and pace is brutal and unforgiving. You cry out from the overstimulation, writhing beneath it. The forced orgasm rises inside you and you groan loudly as you cum, tremors ripping through your body.

You’re panting when you turn off the toy and sit up to look at the chat. Rafe sent another photo. His hand is holding his cock at its base, the swollen shaft covered in his cum.

figure8: would u lick this up?

“Every fucking drop,” you say, wishing you could have orgasmed with him inside of you.

figure8 tipped you $2000.

figure8: extra for being so good

The high of the orgasms, of your bank account growing all because this man wants to watch you pleasure yourself, makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I belong to you,” you tell Rafe drunkenly, unable to imagine letting anyone else watching you like this ever again.

figure8: yeah you fucking do. that pussy is mine

“All yours,” you whisper.

figure8: ill see u tomorrow. good job today princess

Rafe exits the chat, leaving you a heaving mess.

Your heart feels like it twists reading his last message. He surely means he’ll see you on camera tomorrow… but what if he means at the estate for your housekeeping shift?

No, he doesn’t know it’s you. He can’t. You breathe out a tired sigh and take a long, hot shower before going to bed.

Your shapeless uniform is scratchy against your skin as you walk into the mansion the next day, still not sure if you want to run into Rafe or not.

You finish up cleaning downstairs and move up to the bedrooms, leaving Rafe’s room for last.

When you enter his room, it’s empty, the late morning sun hidden behind the blinds covering his big windows. You hear the shower in his ensuite running. You curse to yourself, suddenly nervous to see him. Maybe you can quickly collect the laundry and leave before he gets out.

You start to strip the bed, picturing the photos he sent you of himself on it, fucking his own hand and cumming with you. He lies right here, typing dirty things to you, watching you fuck yourself.

You’ve only unbuttoned one button of the duvet cover when you hear the shower faucet get turned off. Shit.

You rush to unbutton the cover, but you finish just as the door squeaks open behind you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you mumble, keeping your back to him and leaving the bed half-done.

“You’ve seen it all already,” Rafe huskily says behind you. You freeze for a second.

You shyly keep your eyes on the hardwood floor as you turn. When you look up at him as he towers over you, his mouth merely inches away from yours, you see he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

His hair is wet, his broad chest spattered with water drops. He smells amazing from the body wash he used and his eyes are heavy lidded and his smirk is so damn self-satisfied.

“Why do you look so surprised? You really think I didn’t recognize that pretty mouth right away, princess?”

{ read part three here }

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #mine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe

[shotmrmiller]

Multiverse part 3

You sat in a small room on a padded chair, with equipment set up around your arm, chest, and fingertips. A polygraph test. That's what you were being forced to take. And to your chagrin, Ghost is in the room with you and Captain Price.

"Try to relax, yeah?" Price commented. He must've noticed your restless leg.

"I'll do that, shall I? I've done nothing wrong, other than exist and I'm being interrogated. Because that's what this is— an interrogation." You finally turn your attention from Ghost to look at Price, who's sitting at the desk by your side. "Tell me, Captain. Did you get this same treatment when you came back after spending all that time locked up in the gulag?"

His dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. A sigh escapes your bitten lips. That's only in your...world, for lack of a better term. Dimension? Universe?

"I haven't been to the gulag here." Yeah, obviously.

With an impatient wave of the hand that doesn't have cables strapped to it, you mutter, "Let's get on with this circus act, then. Ask your questions."

Ghost steps forward, his arms unfolding as if he's about to speak to you, but Price swiftly intervenes, halting him with a raised hand.

"Alright then. Baseline questions first. Name." Ghost gives away nothing when you say your last name is Riley.

It goes like this for a few, then he switches to the control questions, until finally moving on to the relevant ones.

"How did you get here?" I don't know.

"Do you know why you're here?" No.

He pulls up a photograph. "Recognize him?" Captain MacTavish.

Another photo. "Him?" I don't know.

"What do you mean by that?" If that's Roach, I've never seen his face unmasked.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Unless that man's name is Gary Sanderson, no. I do not know him.

Price acknowledges your response with a nod, then shifts his gaze towards Ghost, whose head slightly tilts forward. Returning his attention to you, he retrieves a final photograph. "What about him?"

As you look at the picture, your eyes begin to well with tears, lip trembling violently. A new fracture reverberated through your tender heart, intensifying the ache in your chest. Yes.

"Who is he?" Price softly asks.

"That's my Simon," your voice broke on the last syllable. It was hard to not use a possessive adjective when the face of your husband was in that picture.

Blinking the tears away, you clear your throat. "Anything else, Captain?"

Price purses his lips under his hefty facial hair and responds, "Just a few more questions."

Once finished, you sat unabashedly staring at Ghost in the tiny room. "I wear Roach's tags alongside yours, in honor. He was with you until the very end, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful."

Ghost is completely silent, but you continue talking anyway. "I've been married to you since a bit after you came home on leave that one time. You know the one."

His eyes are emotionless, blank, as he stares at you. But you know him like the back of your hand. You've got his full attention.

"I accompanied you to your brother's wedding. He married a woman, Beth. She was good for him. They had a baby, your nephew, named Joseph. The love you had for him was one of a kind. I had told you later that evening that I dreamed of the day you'd look at our children like that."

With a shuddery breath, you tell him how none of those matters. Because your husband is dead, and you're stuck here. With his counterpart that hates you.

With a hushed click, the door closes shut behind him as he leaves, yet its resounding noise fills the compact room you're in.

You begin to fidget with the sizeable ring that hangs on a thin necklace beneath your shirt— the metal is warm under your touch as if it had never gone cold in the first place.

As if Simon had never taken it off his finger to go find Makarov.

ah theyre short but hurt. much pain.

taglist: @1mawh0re @sae1kie @darkravenqueen98 @chinuneko @thestartitaness @bowtruckleninja @hawsx3 @uyudunmuyavru @prettyoatmeal @arael-asuka @spencerreidisbae123 @beau-min @lovefks @maliakealoha @kit-williams @clear-your-mind-and-dream @theloneshadow24 @wolfieisacat @littlebunie @bloobewy @kkaaaagt @sadsackssss @hypernovaxx @halobaby @lildemon475 @animarix @just-pure-trash @catatemyslideshow @hayleybarnesx @sasagehoes @thigh-o-saur @youdontknowe @destroyer-of-za-warudo @maxisqq @k4marina @onlineoutcast

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #multiverse cod #09 ghost #22 ghost #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you

[luveline]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers. 

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?" 

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo." 

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in. 

"Very much," you agree. 

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys." 

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks." 

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?" 

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones. 

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask. 

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny. 

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him. 

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious. 

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says. 

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog." 

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says. 

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower. 

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice." 

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that. 

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest. 

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin. 

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–" 

"Not what happened–" 

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words. 

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes. 

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze. 

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better. 

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone. 

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?" 

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down. 

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again." 

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly. 

"Then I won't say it." 

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory. 

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…" 

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say. 

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?" 

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment. 

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate. 

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks. 

"About you, handsome? All the time." 

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag. 

"That's in poor taste," he says. 

"I would like to hand in my resignation." 

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram." 

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

#miguel and spidergirl reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario

[bcyhoods]

TO BE SAFE. EDDIE MUNSON

synopsis: you ask to sleep over at eddie’s for the first time, and he undoubtedly is head over heels for you

word count: 1.2k

authors notes: somebody requested this before i started my blog over! if this finds u, im sending you a cookie and a kiss, as promised x

warnings: fem!reader, use of gendered pet names (princess, pretty girl), dialogue is…….cheesy cringe a little😔, clueless eddie, kissing !!!

“Goddamit.”

Eddie hisses beside you at the jumpscare on screen. It was the quietest sound, drowned underneath the blood-curdling screams in the film. It probably would’ve gone completely unnoticed. Unluckily for him, it didn’t. Luckily for you, your legs were draped over his lap, so the mechanical jolt of fright sent your own legs jumping into the air.

His head is thrown against the back of his couch as he slaps his free hand over his eyes. You giggle as you watch his skin flush scarlet underneath your stare.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you coo, voice shaky in between your laughter.

The embarrassment doesn’t quite subside, but the sound of your infectious giggle and the feeling of you moving into his lap to pry away his fingers is enough to have his chest rumbling with mirrored joy. He gazes up at you as you hold his hands.

“You scared, Eds?”

You don’t mean for it to sound like you’re teasing, but he laughs anyway. With a grin, he shakes his head wildly and clasps his hands around your back.

“Nope, I’ve got a princess to protect me.”

He pushes you down into the couch so that he’s hovering above you, and you respond with a squeal. Your legs are locked around his waist as his hands dig into the plush of the cushion beside your head. He leans down with a proud smile to press a kiss to your mouth.

The kisses are sloppy. He litters your face and neck in open-mouthed love bites, none hard enough to leave any mark. When he reaches your lips, it’s more smiles and spit than any real kiss, but neither of you seem to mind. Not when the smell of his citrusy shampoo wraps around your figure to make you dizzy. Not when your hands roam along his biceps and up to the nape of his neck like you’re the only thing keeping him from floating away.

It’s a mess of hushed teasing and giggles and clashing teeth, and it’s perfect.

As he pushes himself up for a moment of air, he looks off to the side before releasing a displeased sigh. “Shit, it’s getting late,” he observes solemnly.

He sits back on his heels, just far away enough for you to hold yourself up. You follow his line of sight and find that the digital clock on the shelf reads 11:15. Your shoulders deflate and your heart sinks.

“It is kinda late, isn’t it?”

Once you turn back to him, his eyes are stuck on you. Gorgeous, dilated pupils run across the high points of your cheekbones and back down to your lips. His gaze commands a rush of heat to caress your skin until your insides are set ablaze and your mouth is painfully dry.

The utter lack of urgency may as well have been a weighted blanket.

One of his arms snakes around your waist to pull you into him further. He leans forward, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to catch your lips.

This one is less playful than the ones you shared just seconds before. His movements are languid, purposeful. Like all the air had been stolen from his lungs and you were oxygen.

Your elbows threaten to buckle underneath your weight. Though, you’d happily sink back into the couch cushions and let them swallow you whole, if it meant you got to kiss him all night. And he’d just as eagerly take up the opportunity to have you underneath him for as long as he could entertain.

But he’s pulling away. Your foreheads rest together as you wear matching expressions of bliss: eyes closed, and slick, kiss-bitten lips parted. His thumb sinks underneath the hem of your shirt to dance across your skin. Another weighted blanket.

“I’ll drive ya,” he whispers reluctantly.

You watch as Eddie stands to stretch, and the warmth follows. A pensive wrinkle makes home between his brows as he slowly moves to grab his jacket. This, along with the nagging feeling in your chest, was routine whenever you spent the day at his place.

It’s not that he hasn’t offered for you to spend the night before, because he’s suggested it quite a few times. It was just so scary. The nerves bubble and spill over and it’s just all a mess inside your head whenever you want to ask.

Today is something different, though. All that occupies your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and suddenly, you think it’d be impossible to spend the night without him.

“Really? You’re not tired?” The questions run off your tongue without a second thought.

“Well, I’m wide awake now,” he jests, running the metal of his rings over his bottom lip. He pats the pockets of his jacket for his keys, and when he comes up empty, he searches the kitchen counter.

The fear creeps back into your head as you watch him rifle through drawers. It makes you shrink in on yourself as you trudge over to your shoes that lay haphazardly by the door.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to drive if you’re tired,” you ask softer.

Noticing a change in your demeanor, he looks up at you to see your teeth worrying at your lower lip. “I’m sure,” he insists sweetly, “Can’t let my pretty girl drive alone in the dark.”

He finally finds his keys and moves over to where his own pair of shoes rested beside yours. He sends you an easy grin and it makes it all the harder to swallow down your anxieties.

“It’s foggy out,” you mention faintly. You don’t know what the weather is like outside. It was merely you grasping at straws to freeze him in his motion. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious at this point, expecting a light tease from the wavy-haired boy.

But oblivious as he is, Eddie peeks out the blinds anyway to scan the trailer park. He hums. It’s a little gloomy, but hardly anything to worry about. Just as he’s about to reassure you again, he pauses when he spots your fingers fidgeting with a loose seam in your sleeve. You’re staring down at your shoes — which you’ve purposely done a poor job of putting on, as they’re only halfway on your feet — with your tongue bitten between your teeth.

“Maybe…” you pause to take a deep inhale. “It’s probably better if I stay? If that's okay with you, I mean.”

Then, does Eddie freeze. And he feels like an absolute fool.

He feels like an absolute fool for being the one to get up first. For not getting the totally conspicuous hints you’ve been trying to give him for the past minute and a half. For being so focused on trying to find his damn keys that he hoped he’d lost in the first place. And for standing in shocked silence for so long that you’ve begun to frown and properly shove your ankles inside your shoes.

“Yeah,” he replies abruptly, reaching out for your arm.

“Yeah?” The hopeful rise in your inflection makes him gently squeeze your elbow.

“Yeah, of course you can stay. I want you to.”

You nod. You duck your chin to your chest to hide the shy smile on your lips, but to no avail. Eddie can spot your bright grin from a mile away and makes him go weak in the knees with a blush that he’s sure is making its way to his cheeks.

“Just to be safe, ya know,” you add before toeing off your shoes and pushing them closer to the wall.

“Right. To be safe.”

#i lost track of the plot at first…….like always #it’s not a bcyhoods fic if there isn’t a whole bunch of other shit happening #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic

[roosterr]

whatchya got, boy?

note: requested by @wetsocksinbed :D this fic came to me in a prophetic vision as soon as i read that ask, all i have to say is i was cackling maniacally while writing it. bon apetit.

pairing: john 'soap's mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 4.4k

summary: soap is scared of dogs, you're a k9 handler. your dog is good at finding bodies, he doesn't ever want him to have to find yours.

warnings: angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence

ao3

soap has never liked dogs.

when people ask him why, he tells them that it's just how he is. he wasn't bitten by one, it's not a trauma response, he just doesn't like them, plain and simple. being in the military and having a phobia of dogs is like painting a giant red target on his forehead, so in the interest of not getting relentlessly made fun of, he keeps it to himself.

until recently, it hasn't been a problem.

then you came along, with your quick wit and charming smile, and he was a goner from the moment you first met.

price had given them your files, told them you and your partner are on loan to the one-four-one for the next few months while they track down a particularly slippery target. the term partner had initially disappointed soap, but then you'd both marched into the room with your heads held high, and he realised;

oh. your partner is a dog.

a german shepherd, to be precise. you're a canine handler, like the universe is playing a trick on him – he hasn't been genuinely interested in someone in god knows how long, and when he finally finds somebody, you're accompanied at all hours by one of the few things he fears.

he's about ready to give up on pursuing you before the briefing is even over, but as the others all stand and file out of the meeting room, your partner comes bounding up to him in all his fanged, furry glory and soap almost has a heart attack.

"he doesn't usually trust strangers," you told him as your dog sits at his feet and wags his tail so hard it might be at risk of dislocation. johnny’s moments away from bolting, the fear climbing up his nerves like constricting vines.

"lucky me, eh?" he smiles at you, which was honestly more like a grimace, but somehow you're not offended by his obvious dislike of your partner. you let out a laugh, and the sound is so melodic he almost forgets about the beast waiting at his heel.

"you can pet him," you grin knowingly, and soap gets the sinking feeling you've figured him out already, "he doesn't bite – not unless i tell him to."

"cheers, but i'll pass…" johnny attempts to protest, in the motion of taking a step back, but you grab his hand before he can escape and drag it down to your dog's face with an amused grin.

"his name's rex." he hears you say, but the way your dog is sniffing at his hand has every muscle in his body tensing involuntarily. he's mortified that you're seeing him react like this, he already knows he'll never be able to live this down once the others find out.

when rex chuffs and starts to lick at his hand, johnny feels like his soul might leave his body. the sharp teeth so close to his skin is so unnerving, the only thing stopping him from making a run for it is your soft grip still around his wrist.

he looks to you for help, but you're watching him with a mischievous grin that sends his heart aflutter.

"see? that wasn't so bad." you chuckle, crouching down next to your dog and thankfully taking rex's attention off him. johnny breathes a quiet sigh of relief, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he watches you fuss over the canine.

you're endearing, and johnny has to admit that seeing you coo at rex like he's a baby makes him slightly less terrifying.

"price put you up to this?" he asks, holding back a flinch when rex looks up at the sound of his voice.

"he did." you nod, standing back up and meeting his eyes again. "but rex actually does like you. guess you're just charming like that."

"well, thank god for that…" johnny grumbles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. you laugh again, and with the way his pulse quickens, he can't help but send you a cocky grin. "but what i wanna know is, do you like me?"

"hmm…" you feign indecision with a poorly concealed smirk, tapping a finger on your chin before leaning closer and placing a hand on his bicep. "i may need a little more convincing."

after that, johnny can hardly keep himself away from you. 

whenever you're next to him he's got an arm slung over your shoulder, you’re always talking – texting when you’re apart – and any free time he has is spent following you around base, not unlike rex at your heel.

you ask him if he wants to watch you when you train rex, and initially he tries to say no, because he thinks seeing rex practising attacking people might break whatever spell you've cast that makes him not hate the dog; but you drag him along anyway, and he ends up being glad that you did.

it's fascinating, watching rex sniff a shirt from your hand and track down whoever it belongs to with expert precision. it looks almost like a game to the canine, the way his tail swings back and forth the whole time as he effortlessly completes any task you give him.

he finds the dummies you hide with ease, even when they're buried under piles of boxes and clothes and various other obstacles. johnny actually finds himself respecting the dog, which is shocking since a few weeks ago he never would've been able to handle even being in the same room as one.

you give johnny the treats to feed rex, which makes him nervous all over again when the canine looks up at him with wide eyes and all his sharp teeth on display. it takes some coaxing from you, but eventually he gets comfortable enough to let rex take a treat from his hand. he may not admit it, but the only reason he even lets rex get so close is because you're there. simply your presence gives him the courage, makes him feel secure.

"when this is over," johnny begins, hand twitching under rex's tongue and looking at you with such fondness it feels like his heart is about to burst, "i'll take you out proper, treat you right."

you blink at him, surprised, but not a moment later a wide smile is taking over your face. "i look forward to it, mactavish."

the others, particularly gaz and ghost, give him hell for how infatuated he's become with you, but their teasing doesn't deter him. he likes you, and he doesn't care if everybody knows it; you like him too, and that's all he really cares about.

now, sitting in the heli on the way to what they hope will be the final location for this mission, he was almost disappointed to be done with it. you were only on loan for this mission, so once they have their target, you'd be gone. he was hoping, optimistically, that once everything was said and done he could convince you to stay with the one-four-one. he was sure he could talk price into it, and though it was selfish of him, he just wanted you to stay by his side.

you're sitting next to him in the back of the aircraft, rex between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, staring up at johnny with those big brown eyes. without even thinking, he reaches a hand out and ruffles the fur on his head, earning a nudge and an adoring smile from you when he looks over.

"he might like you better than me," you tease, scratching behind rex's ear who was yet to take his eyes off of johnny.

"don't be jealous now, bonnie." he chuckles, returning the nudge to your shoulder. "you can have 'im on weekends."

you grin again and lightly shake your head, taking rex's face in your hands and bending over to press a kiss to the top of his head. "you love me the most, right boy?"

before long, the helicopter is landing and the five of you – plus rex – are following the captain out into the forest. it's cold when they exit the heli, night vision goggles highlighting the terrain through the darkness of the night.

the silence buzzes as you all stalk through the trees. johnny pays more attention to you than he should as you walk beside him, anxiety lighting up his nerves for how this mission will go.

as according to the plan, once the manor is in sight, you all split off into teams of two; him and ghost, price and gaz, and you and rex. he trusted you to do well, like you have been doing for the last few months, but he can't help the way his shoulders tense as he watches you disappear around the corner.

the building is guarded, which was expected of course, but they only had to take down a dozen or so guards until the place was barren.

the corridors were eerily deserted, bathed in a moonlit glow as johnny crept around the manor, following closely behind ghost with both of their heads on a swivel. the radio was quiet, by design for the mission plan, but somehow this time felt different, like they wouldn't hear him if he did call out.

it's the beeping that gives it away. so faint, he almost missed it, but his senses are sharpened like a blade – and as a demolitions specialist, he knows the sound of an explosive when he hears it.

johnny carefully pushes open the door to his right, scanning the room for any movement and finding none, but when his gaze lands on the centre of the room, his pulse skips a beat.

propane canisters, fuse linking them all together, and most concerning, a timer on top blinking at him; two minutes, ticking down with a sickening green glow.

"ghost," he calls, his voice hard and serious as the anxiety builds again, "it's rigged."

ghost steps into the doorway next to him, following johnny's arm as he points to the device.

"fuck." he spits, stepping back and clicking the radio on his vest, but no sound comes out. ghost curses again, looking back to johnny with a tense expression that the sergeant mirrors. "radios aren't workin' either. let's move, c'mon."

there's no room for argument in his tone, marching back the way they came with johnny in tow.

as they emerge back out into the night, price and gaz appear from around the corner, both lifting their goggles and approaching with concern evident on their faces.

"what happened?" price's gaze darts around behind them as he speaks, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack.

"the place is rigged, we have to go." ghost explains, already moving past them and away from the manor.

the captain nods, gesturing for johnny and gaz to follow as he tries his radio with no luck, just like ghost. the pit of anxiety lingered, getting heavier by the second.

"move it, soap." price commands, a deep frown creasing his brow.

but johnny doesn't move. "hold on, where's k-9?" he asks, a frown of his own pulling his features downwards.

"radios are down, we don't have time to look for 'em." ghost calls over to them, earning a solemn nod from the captain, who tries to move him with a hand on his shoulder.

the radios are down, you have no way of knowing the building is rigged. there's no way johnny's about to leave you on your own in the blind, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did.

"no. i'm not leavin' without 'em." johnny growls, his face morphing into a frown as he brushes off the captain's arm and turns to go back inside.

"they might already be outside." gaz tries to reason, stepping in front of him and blocking him from the doorway. kyle's regretful gaze cuts through him, and there's the distinct feeling that everyone else has already given up on you. "we have to move, mate."

johnny scoffs. "fuck that! i can't just leave 'em!" he hisses, insulted by the very idea of leaving one of their own to fend for themselves. no, that's not how they operate, that's not how he operates.

a flash of anger shoots through him and he's about to shove past gaz, but before he can move, price is yanking him away.

"soap!" he growls, shaking him slightly as he grabs johnny's other arm. "get it together, you are not goin' back in there."

before he can argue, he's being grabbed by ghost and dragged away from the manor with him as the other two jog ahead of them into the treeline. 

"oi!" johnny shouts, struggling in the lieutenants iron grip, but to no avail. ghost practically drags him along as he digs his heels into the dirt, writhing in an attempt to escape and go back for you.

he's desperate, he can't lose you, not before he takes you on that date, he promised, you can't die yet–

johnny blinks, the deep, rumbling boom completely derailing his thoughts and starting a piercing ringing in his ears.

white hot fire bursts from the windows of the manor, showering the surrounding area in shards of glass and debris as the heat escapes the building in waves. 

no.

everything seemed to stop around him. ghost stopped trying to drag him away, the trees stopped blowing in the wind, he almost stopped breathing. the world pauses as the walls of the manor are engulfed in flames.

no.

johnny rips his arm out of ghost's grip and stumbles back towards the manor, his mind floating out of his body.

"no!" johnny wails, ignoring the heat on his face and taking a shaky step over the jagged stone and glass that crunches under his boot, "no! they're still–" his voice breaks, "they're still in there, for fucks sake!"

"johnny!" ghost shouts, grabbing him by the strap on the back of his vest and yanking him sharply away from the blaze. "they're gone." he mutters, purposefully avoiding soap's glassy eyes.

"shut the fuck up!" he cries, thumping his fist against ghost's chest and clawing at the arm holding him back. the tears spill from his eyes hard and fast, constricting his throat and blurring his vision.

he falls to his knees with his head in his hands and ghost lets him, the debris that litters the ground sharp against his flesh, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

it wasn't supposed to go like this.

you were supposed to come back, and he was supposed to take you out and give you a perfect date and he'd kiss you at the end of the night and now he'd never get to do any of that because–

you're gone. slipped through his fingers like sand into the ocean.

"c'mon, johnny." he hears ghost mutter, his voice distant even though he's right there, pulling him to stand by his arm. "let's regroup."

he doesn't struggle this time, shaking himself free of his lieutenant's grip and shuffling past him with his head hanging low. if there was a god, he's sure they're laughing at him by now. it all felt like some kind of cruel joke; give him hope by granting him someone to love after all these lonely years, and then rip you out of his arms before he can know the happiness you would bring him.

he and ghost don't get far before he hears the lieutenant stop in his tracks, but he doesn't care to know why, the hollow feeling in his chest won't allow him to.

"the dog…" ghost utters from behind him, an air of disbelief in his monotone voice. johnny freezes, a cold dread travelling up his spine as he hears the unmistakable sound of rex's claws padding towards them.

he turns slowly on his heel, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

your dog is standing in front of him.

"rex…?" he calls softly, taking in the dust and ash and dirt and blood caked into his rich brown fur, illuminated by the fire still raging. rex barks, tilting his head like he's confused, and johnny falls to his knees again, uncaring for the way the rubble tears through his trousers and his skin. "no, no no no no–"

rex is alone. you're not with him. he doesn't go anywhere without you, and that can only mean one thing.

the confirming thought alone shatters the dam completely.

the sobs wrack his body and johnny gathers rex into his arms, hugging him tightly to his chest, burying his face into his thick fur despite the filth that coats the both of them. he whimpers and whines in johnny's ear, and the sound only makes his heart hurt even more.

a few months ago he never would've dreamed he'd be hugging a dog, but you changed that; you'd helped him work on his fear, and even if rex was the only one he could tolerate, it was still leagues better than what he could accomplish without you.

but now you’re gone, and neither of them have you to fall back on.

johnny sinks his fingers deep into rex's fur, sniffling pathetically because he may have lost you, but your canine lost his entire world and he would never understand where you went, why you left him all alone, why you weren’t coming back.

rex begins to wriggle in his arms, and soap knows he wants him to let go but he can't bring himself to. this dog is all he has left of you now; he would take care of your beloved canine, it doesn't matter if he was still terrified in the back of his mind.

after a painful few minutes, jonny regains the awareness to remember where they are and the fact that ghost is still watching him break down with the dog in his arms. with a trembling sigh, he loosens his hold on rex and pulls back, wiping a dusty hand over his eyes.

as he pushes himself to stand rex barks again, startling johnny with a jolt of panic before bounding back the way he came, away from him and ghost.

johnny frowns. "hey, don't run," he mutters, ambling after the canine as he pads backwards. every time johnny gets close, rex slips just out of reach before he can grab him.

ghost sighs, but allows him to go after the dog, keeping a watchful eye on them as they get further away.

the way he was running along and looking back to make sure johnny was following reminded him a worrying amount of how he acted in his training. the training where you would hide a dummy for him and johnny would reward him with treats when he led you to the fake body.

"no, no rex," except this time, the body wouldn't be fake. "please, boy, just come back…"

rex doesn't react to his pleading, determined to lead him to what johnny knows he’s found, but desperately wants to deny anyway. he tries to stop, to turn back and never have to face the reality of you being gone, but the canine won't let him. he takes johnny's trousers between his razor teeth and growls, deep and threatening, as he tries to pull him along.

the sound makes johnny freeze, fear clawing at the back of his mind as an instinctual reaction, but he blinks hard and pushes through it. "alright, i'm comin'..."

rex lets go once he’s sure he’ll follow again, trotting ahead with the occasional check behind him to make sure johnny was still there. he follows the canine past the rubble, through the treeline, and into the underbrush where the sick feeling in his throat only grows stronger.

he doesn't bother with the night vision goggles. the fire provides enough waving light for him to just about see where he’s going, and he really has no desire to see what rex is guiding him to.

johnny almost trips over him when the canine comes to an abrupt stop, his wide eyes trained on a bush to johnny’s left.

the dread pooling in his stomach becomes suffocating.

"wh…?" he swallows thickly, crouching down to rex's level and placing a hand on his back, feeling his laboured breath that matches his own. "...whatchya got, boy?"

rex barks and noses at the branches of the bush, before stepping backwards a few paces and looking expectantly between johnny and the shrub.

johnny stares at the bush. no amount of training could've prepared him for the terror he feels imagining what he’ll find on the other side of it. as if sensing his hesitation, rex barks again to spur him on, but it only makes his heart sink further.

his hand shakes as he reaches for the branches. there's a stutter in his heartbeat, a hitch in his breath, as he pushes them aside to reveal–

"bleedin' fuckin' jesus–" johnny cries, jumping through the foliage to couch over your weakened form, forgetting his fear all together as he ruffles rex's fur with both hands and a breaking smile when he barks again. "oh good boy rex! good boy, fuckin' hell!"

it's you, blood and ash smeared across your skin and your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and johnny's just so happy you're alive he can't think to be afraid when rex snaps at his hands in a misdirected effort to protect you. he presses both hands against the slice in your abdomen, using the few medical supplies in his vest to help stop the bleeding as the tears being to well again.

"shit, stay with me, hun, i've got ye…" he mumbles, putting all his weight onto your stomach. "ghost! help me!"

the rest is a blur.

they carry you to the helicopter, rex barking protectively between their legs the whole way until he can lay on guard between your legs on take off.

when they finally touch down back at base, johnny has to grab rex by the vest so the medics can carry you out, wrestling him away as he barks and whines in protest. johnny stays with the canine while you're in surgery and for the days you're asleep, making sure he's fed and allowing him to sleep in his room so he won’t be alone – despite how uncomfortable it makes him, and how little sleep he gets because of it.

it's four days until you wake up.

he's not the first to find out, but as soon as the words reach his ears he’d racing down the corridors and bursting through the infirmary doors with enough intensity to make you jump out of your skin. the sight of you sitting up and talking to price almost has his eyes watering again, but he pushes that urge down.

he approaches your bed more carefully, a wobbly smile pulling at his lips under your warm gaze. with an understanding look, price is patting him on the shoulder as he passes by and leaving the two of you alone with each other.

"aren't you a sight for sore eyes," johnny grins, taking a seat in the chair next to your bed and grasping your hand in his. a smile lifts your features as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there as a heat rises in his cheeks.

"i could say the same, my knight in shining armour." you reply, moving your hand to cradle the side of his head and smoothing your thumb over his brow. he revels in the contact, the tension bleeding from his muscles under your touch. "where's rex?"

"he's fine, i made sure." he reassures you, and you let out a sigh of relief at his words, visibly relaxing into the pillows holding you up. "tried sneakin' him in here, but the nurses wouldn't have it."

a laugh escapes you, the sound still managing to make his heart feel light, even all these months later. "can't imagine why," you tease, gently nudging his head as he chuckles along with you.

it feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, finally having you with him again. his eyes flutter shut as the relief washes over him, and a minute passes where neither of you speak, simply basking in each other's presence.

there's a scratching sound at the door that interrupts the peace and quiet, and the two of you share a knowing smile. not a moment later, the door is being pulled open just enough for rex to slip through and skid towards your bed on the linoleum floor, wagging his tail at breakneck speed.

before the door can completely close, johnny catches a glimpse of gaz’s mischievous grin and groans, but he doesn't have time to yell at him before he’s out of sight and rex is distracting him by leaping onto your bed.

you wheeze as your canine braces his paws on your chest and begins his assault on your face, licking every inch of skin he can reach with a series of excited chuffs and narrowly missing johnny’s head with his swinging tail.

"hi rex! you saved my life, didn’t you boy?" you giggle, affectionately ruffling his fur and planting kisses of your own on his face. "who’s a good boy? who’s the best sniffer dog ever?"

johnny clears his throat, drawing your attention to him as you cuddle rex to your chest. "i don’t want’a blow my own horn here, but i saved yer life too…" he gives you that lopsided grin, a playful glint in his eyes that makes you laugh again.

"you want some pets too?" you chuckle, reaching over and dragging his head over to you by a hand on the back of his neck. "good job, johnny, you’re a good boy too." you coo, pressing your lips to his forehead and the tip of his nose as you ruffle his mohawk like rex’s fur.

the effect is immediate. his cheeks burn again with a striking red blush, and he chokes on his breath in bashful embarrassment under your ministrations. he hopes you haven't noticed his reaction, but the way your laugh bubbles up again he can tell you’ve caught on.

"i think i like that more than i should, bonnie." he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. you hum sweetly, your warm breath fanning over his face.

"don’t short circuit on me yet, soap, you still owe me a date."

tagging: @cheezbites

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

[starofthesea7]

König~ Bitte (please)

(König cums too fast - pure filth)

König is a grunting mess beneath you, cheeks flushed deep red, eyebrows furrowed in ardent need. Brawny, scarred fingers grip threadbare cotton sheets, white knuckled— green eyes glossy with tears as he gazes down at you with fervour, pleas spilling from bitten lips. He’s in full tactical gear, fresh from the field, completely covered from your gaze, save for his bare crotch on full display between the zipper of his undone canvas pants.

He’s inexperienced- you could tell, even though he’d never murmured a word on the subject- it is laced thoroughly throughout his needy actions, the way his hips buck at the smallest touch you give his pale, rippling thighs, or how his heavy cock jumps when you praise him with sweet words. And there’s something so electrifying, having this beast of a man, in a killer’s uniform, writhing beneath you- it all goes straight to your head.

He is colossal. Infused with motor oil, brine and secondary cigarette smoke and the dirtiness of it- of him, cracks open the inviting door to even filthier actions.

His head is pressed harshly against the cool cement wall, damp hair curling around his brow. His mouth hangs agape— a glint of canine flashes in the dim light. His exposed his cock is tall and waiting eagerly for you and he’s embarrassed- you can tell by his flushed cheeks- embarrassed at how hard he is when you’ve barely even touched him- his engorged cock flushed deep purply red— glistening with a bead of pre spend at the sensitive head. Fuck.

His voice is rough and strangled, an honest attempt to string coherent thoughts together, “—ah, bitte, please...” He trails off, unsure of what he want’s you to do, all he knows is that he wants you.

You hold his gaze, vehemently, as you remove threadbare cotton in a swift motion, to revealing your naked frame to his widening eyes, you’re in nothing but a black thong and his glassy gaze is glued to your chest, he’s unable to tear it away, all gentile manners falling to perverse automatic action, he’s once more a teenager exploring his first playboy, struggling to take it in. Hair cascades around peaked nipples, and you’re a vision. He lets out a ragged breath at the soft swell of your breasts, truly questioning whether this was real- whether this was just another of his wet dreams and he’d wake up alone and have to shamefully clean sticky cum off himself. “You are…” he trails off on a ragged cliff, as if no known, spoken word could describe you, and the thought makes your heart swell against your ribs.

There’s a push and pull in him, you can feel it. Part of him instinctively wants to take control, have you his way, throw your body over the desk and ravage you- you both know that physically he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you. But something in him keeps him sat, under your control. He’s dying to do as you say, to follow your lead. The king has surrendered, and you are his unexpected successor.

Your hips bulge as your legs spread wide to fit over his massive thighs. Sinewy muscle tenses under you and the sight of his cock just waiting there for you makes your stomach clench. He’s staring at your crotch, at the small patch of wet fabric and the way it clings to the outline of your puffy cunt. There’s something pornographic about the way he’s fully dressed in tactical gear, complete with steel toed boots and dirty canvas pants, and you mount him bare, save for a sopping thong. Your airy, sultry voice cuts through thick, sweaty air, “Has it been a long time, König?” You’re being a bit patronizing, frankly, but you can tell he likes it, or he wouldn’t be this hard- pre-spend oozing out of his swollen slit.

His eyes rise to yours, and his pupils are blown wide, his voice breathless, “Ja-fuck-yes Maus, been so long. Please, touch me.” Your soft hands find his lower belly and its taught and veiny, skin scorching, you trace his abs, over his whisper of a happy trail, and you feel his muscles tense beneath your fingers, littered with scars. Your softness melts into his roughness and you’re pulled into him as if he possesses his own gravitational force. You gather his pre-spend from his stomach on two fingers and he watches with bated breath as you raise them to your lips, you take them deep, and the poor man doesn’t know what to do with him self. He’s briny and bitter and you want to force the taste further down your throat. A pathetic sound leaves his mouth, and it makes your stomach flop.

You rise up slide your thong to the side, exposing your cunt and he’s eager to position himself for you. Ready to bend to your every need, all he wants to be is good for you. You feel your stomach clench in anticipation as you are struck again with how thick he is- the thought of him stretching you out makes you thrum with anticipation. You’re sopping, and he’s dribbling from the tip— cock sliding deliciously easy, against the seam of you, right up against the choking split. Your fingers find locks of his hair and you ground yourself in him, as he catches harshly on the edge of your hole, right against your clit and pleasure shoots through your body. You’re both so sleep and touch deprived and that just makes you all the more fervid. You’re embarrassed at how fucked out you must look, but his head is thrown back and he’s almost drooling and you can’t look more desperate than him.

You run his mushroom head over the split again, and he’s unable to contain himself, softly bucking his hips into you, and when he finally breaches your hole, spliting you wide for him you let out a sharp sound, fingers harshly grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He sobs, voice ripping through his hoarse throat, “Ah-ah! Maus, fuck you’re so hot inside so… small.” It’s really he that’s large but you don’t bother correcting him. You tighten your fingers, fisting his hair, surely hard enough to hurt, as you inch yourself lower onto him. His fingers find the fat of your ass and hes pulling your cheeks apart, marks sure to bloom purple and blue later. His hand finds the waistband of your thong and he’s pulling it, overstimulation forcing him to action, the feeling of it dragging against your clit makes you keel. You hear the fabric rip, and he’s murmuring a slew of apologies. “Ah- I’m sorry maus-” You kiss his cheek sloppily in forgiveness. Salty and warm- stubble brash against your lips.

You pull back and his eyes drop to your little cunt, swollen lips stretching out around him and he’s in awe that you can take him so well. He’s definitely bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, but you can tell he doesn’t understand the extent of his size, and now is not the time to boost his ego, so you bite your lip and when your skin finally meets the cold metal of his zipper and he’s fully inside you sit there for a beat to adjust. Hes pulsing deep inside you and you can fucking see the outline of the head of his cock protruding from your belly, just below your bellybutton.

And when you point it out to him with a sickly sweet voice, “See you, so deep inside me König?”

He grunts, “Fuck me,” having to tear his eyes away a second later to keep from orgasming right then and there.

You begin to softly bounce your body above him, you tell yourself it’s to go easy on him, but truly you don’t think you could do move more with how deep he goes. Cold metal of his zipper harshly grazes your soft skin. Your breasts bounce with every movement and he pulls you into him, groaning into your shoulder, and sharp canines nick your flesh. Your grip in his hair mirrors your clench around him, painfully tight.

You speed up, slapping of skin fills the room, your flesh bubbles between his iron fingers and he’s whimpering into your ear, before you feel him twitch inside you. His eyes go wide and he’s suddenly blurting out, “Im sorry, I’m so sorry-ah, fuck.” His hips are bucking up into you faster, you feel them stutter, and his mouth falls open to softly bite your shoulder. His cock twitches, mushroom head notching somewhere deep inside you— and you can feel it in your stomach. He shudders all over, his huge form shaking with the strength of his orgasm, and then he blushes deep crimson. “I’m- A-ah,” Cum spurts out fitfully, and you feel it, hot and thick, filling your guts, and you can’t help but whimper into his hair at the feeling.

Warm pressure blooms in your belly. His deep raspy breaths grate against cold stillness.

Tears are brimming in his glassy eyes when he raises his head, damp curls falling across his forehead. Your cunt clenches at the sight and you redden at the obscene squelch it makes. He swallows hoarsely, “I’m so sorry. I wanted to…I couldn’t— you just felt so good—”

Another open mouthed kiss to his cheek makes him let out a soft puff of captive air.

“‘S okay König.” Your eyes sparkle, voice soft. “I can sit on your face, and you can make me cum then, yeah?” You smile coyly, as his eyes widen, cheeks flushing once more.

#cod #könig #konig #könig call of duty #cod smut #könig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig mw2 #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig imagine #könig mw2 #König amut #könig fanfiction #könig x oc #konig fanart #könig cod #amut #könig x y/n #könig x fem reader #cod mw2 #cod imagine #call of duty #konig x y/n #konig imagine

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! Here's a drabble I wrote as a warm up, not my best work but it's short And it was written at three am, Enjoy!

The radio man's Wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings:

Human Alastor, murder, Not much Alastor in here but he's here, victim blaming the dead people

You could ask anyone who had met her and they would tell you that The local radio host's wife was the sweetest person they had ever met, a real angel on earth, she'd help out her neighbors, delivering fresh baked goods to those in need, she'd help take care of the neighborhood kids while their parents got away for a night,

She was a saint, who was to know that she had married a monster? She was just another unwilling victim right?

After all,

She was just so kind!

but even those who appear kind could do the cruelest of things, sweet words secretly drenched in venom, dressed in soft unsuspecting colors, her eyes that held nothing but fondness for the person she married and distain for those who stood against him, for those who ran his name through the mud.

She'd gleefully turn a blind eye to the wicked acts he did, being nothing but a bystander, at most she threw a few sickly sweet words to the victims that left them feeling sick to the pits of their stomaches before they perished.

She'd clean up any remaining mess he left behind, making any leftover carnage into fertilizer for her beautiful garden, mopping up the blood stained floors, or digging up a deep grave in the nearby woods for him to drag a body or two into.

She willingly laid next to someone who had countless people's blood on his hands, she'd give nothing but a love-filled smile at him,

She'd dance with a repeat murderer while soft jazz played on the radio each night after dinner, after the dishes were done and dried He'd take her hand and they'd dance.

She'd give a small kiss on the cheek, telling him to stay safe and leave him to his business slaughtering folks.

After all they deserved it right? They weren't truly good folks, Her and her dear Alastor believed ? that wholeheartedly, and Honestly it's their own fault for being easy targets

Right?

No one would believe you if you told them beforehand that the charming radio host, Alastor was a cold blooded murderer who had claimed multiple lives,

After all he was so charming, always with that smile on his face that could make anyone swoon, although you could never exactly know what he was thinking, people adored his voice and his radioshow where he'd play the tunes of the time, and briefly speak about the recent disappearances of people, telling everyone to stay safe.

It's truly the charming ones you should look out for.

It was only revealed when someone hunting in the dead of night mistook her dearest Alastor for a deer, shooting him swiftly through the head, killing him almost instantly, leaving him to be bitten and torn by man's best friend.

The phonecall she got when it was discovered was heart wrenching,

Her beloved Radio host went from charming to his name being thrown around, treated like a monster, [Which he was, he killed people] his office was cleaned out swiftly after being searched for anything alluding to his crimes, the home they shared was searched and torn apart for evidence as she sobbed into the arms of a supportive, unsuspecting neighbor,

After everything went down she was either scorned or deemed a unfortunate lady who unknowingly married a murderous monster, she had parts of the community that took pity bring around casseroles and give her words of comfort.

It couldn't have been more then a year since Alastor had gone, a family member of one of his victims wanted revenge, however since the murderer was already six feet under, why not go for his widow?

In the dead of night carrying a gun he crept into the home she once shared with her beloved, he moved passed the picture frames on the walls, from events, Their wedding photos and pictures of family, all were hung up neatly.

He opened the door, a creaking noise rung out throughout the house,

He moved forward towards the bed where the widow laid, deep in a slumber she'd never wake up from,

The man lifted up the gun and shot her right in the heart, She didn't know what hit her.

Arising from the ground she brushed herself off, the sight of brimstone and the harsh smell of sulfur filled her nose,

She didn't know what killed her, maybe a heart attack? Perhaps she choked on something in her sleep? Well there was no use in wondering, what's done is done, and from the looks of it she definitely ended up in hell, wasn't surprising after all she did help out her husband in his crimes.

With a quick look at herself, she made a face at the animal ears that protruded from her head, along with the matching tail on her back, shaking her head she began walking around to explore the place.

She supposed it was time to go find her dearly departed darling now wasn't it?

Good evening folks! Thank you for reading!

I'm making my way through requests and a couple of them will hopefully be out within the week! Stay tuned!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine

[peachesofteal]

Speaking about Ghost/Soap/Darling omegaverse... May I bring the idea of Soap and Ghost being alpha and Darling an omega? But wait, let me sprinkle a little of angsty thoughts about it:

Johnny and Simon get to spend their ruts together. Hell, they share a room, and even on base they get to have privacy and go through them with the help of each other, not only fulfilling their physical needs, which are sated of course, but also emotional. Yeah sure, heats are emotional but ruts are too, and they spend so much time together that almost, if not all of their ruts together have been spent in the company of each other.

But Darling? Imagine Darling having a heat every time she's alone. Simon and Johnny gone on some mission, gone for weeks and sometimes even months. Trying to satisfy herself with whatever smell is left on Simon's hoodie or Johnny's shirt. She tries to brush away the thoughts of loneliness and being left out that arise every time she rests in her nest, every time she has to painfully get through her heats without her mates' company.

Hell, she tries to hide everything every time Johnny and Simon come home, smelling like each other and fresh bite marks on their necks. She really, really tries. But nothing escapes those two, no. They can smell that little, slightly rotten smell on Darling, sensing her discomfort and those bouts of anger flaring up, those hints of desperation hiding in a slightly-rotten fruit smell. It becomes stronger and stronger each time she sees how close they are after they tell her that another rut came while they were on base, and her? At this point she might lie and say she's on suppressants. Again, they at least suspect about it.

But hell, the fact that there are always fresh bite marks on them every time they come home, while hers is is non-existent (Johnny and Simon foolishly believe she doesn't wish to be bitten), is NOT helping at all.

And they realize how drastic, how deep the problem is once their leave coincides with Darling's heat.

Except she hides. She doesn't let them in, because they maybe have never seen her on her heats.

She doesn't trust them to know how to deal with it, how to deal with an omegas' most vulnerable moment when all they've known is how alphas deal with their ruts.

Darling doesn't trust them, not fully, at least.

Djsjjd jfc when you said omegaverse I was 👁️👁️. Peach I hope you're having such a good day and I must thank you once more for giving us such beautiful stories, I hope nothing but good things happen to you from now on:)

— 🫔 Anon

Oh… okay, I see you. This is so good! There’s so much to explore here… 🩵

18+ / dead disco omegaverse au (it needs a name but we’ll get there?) / mature themes

The door swings wide, and Johnny is nearly bowled over by the scent. It’s everywhere in the flat, wafting down the hall to where they both stand at the threshold, overcome with the smell of overripe fruit, something sour and tart hovering at the precipice.

It’s the smell of their omega in distress.

But what surprises them both, is along with the burnt tannins of distress, is another smell. A ripe smell, a bruised stone fruit smell.

The smell of an omega in heat.

But their omega doesn’t have heats. You’re on suppressants.

Still, it’s definitely your scent. There’s no mistaking it.

Simon tenses, hackles rising with a growl. Johnny’s hand finds his chest, placing his palm over the older, bigger alpha’s heart soothingly. They’ve just both come off a rut, poor timing all things considered. Both exhausted, they were looking forward to getting home and falling into bed with you, cuddling you close while they both slept off the stress from the op and the remaining… sensitivities.

“Darling?” Simon calls, keeping his voice soft and easy.

There’s no answer. The flat is silent.

“Love? Are you here?” Johnny tries, pushing through to the bedroom, where he’s half expecting to see you curled up in the bed.

Except, you’re not.

It looks like you may have been, at one point. It’s a pile of blankets and pillows, haphazardly arranged with various shirts and other soft things.

Johnny chokes on a breath. The scent is much, much stronger in here, and Simon’s eyes slide closed as he draws a deep inhale.

“Omega?” He murmurs, and to their relief, there’s a small whimper from the closet.

When he gets the door open, his heart breaks. Simon’s body goes preternaturally still, and they both stare down at you.

You’re drenched in sweat, burrowed in a pile of clothes, eyes wide. You reek, panic and fear, distress and pain burning in their nostrils, along with the overripe scent, the telltale smell of a heat. Worse, when you look up at them, there’s no recognition there. Nothing to show that you know who they are to you, or even where you are. Johnny shoves away his panic over your confusion, this state, to try to coax you forward into his arms.

“Hey, there ye are.” He reaches for you, slowly, and your body presses against the corner, head shaking back and forth. Johnny frowns. “Darling, it’s okay. It’s us, you’re alright.” His hand gets closer, nearly brushing you knee, and then to their absolute shock, you snarl.

Simon is conflicted. He’s confused.

Why did you tell them you’re on suppressants?

They would have done things a lot differently, if that wasn’t the case. They wouldn’t have left you alone, if they had known. His stomach clenches when he thinks about the possibility that this isn’t the first time you’ve been on your own during a heat.

“Darling.” Simon coos. He doesn’t want to reach for you. He doesn’t want to pull you from the closet, this safe spot you’ve built, your nest. He doesn’t want to force you out, like his father would have. Like he always did to his mother. His father would have gripped you so hard it would have hurt you, left bruises on you. He would have terrified you, taken joy from it. “Omegas are weak.” Simon was raised to believe. “The lesser. It’s our job to teach ‘em.”

You snort out a trembling breath from your nose, little groan slipping from your lips and you rub your wrist on your gland. Johnny makes a strangled sound in his throat as it happens, and Simon doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s thinking.

Only omegas who have been abandoned or lost their mates try to self soothe like that, scent themselves like that. It’s an instinct, something that happens to try to prevent them from becoming overheated or harmed by a heat unmanaged.

“No, no no. It’s alright, love, we’re here.” Johnny pleads, hand still tentatively outstretched while you stare at his fingers. Every time your wrist rubs over your gland, they both cringe, and Johnny’s body goes rigid.

“I- don’t-” You stutter. You blink at them slowly, and he can see it all on your face, plain as day. The pain. The confusion. The distress.

Simon crouches, just outside the closet. He starts up a soothing rumble, trying to lure you towards him. You lift your head slowly when you hear it, when you feel the subharmonics, the song that sings to you.

“Come here, baby.” Your brow creases, and you rub your face. You look exhausted, like you haven’t slept in days and he wonders how long you’ve been you like this, how long you’ve been suffering. You don’t smell like pre heat, so you must be on the curve upwards. Guilt burns in his stomach. “It’s alright now.” Johnny moves next to him, shifting into a kneel very slowly while you watch him, hazy gaze fixed on the bite marks on his neck, over his gland.

“You’re safe.” Johnny coaxes, and he keeps his hand towards you, but unmoving, trying to show you that neither of them are a threat.

They both work to emit soothing scents, trying to lull you into their arms. You watch them warily, curiously, eyes opening and closing in slow motion as your instincts battle whatever confusion is happening beneath the surface.

It works. You crawl slowly out from the corner, t shirt sticking to your skin, your arms trembling under your weight.

“Good girl.” Simon murmurs. Neither of them move, afraid to spook you, and then you’re curling up between their bodies, rubbing your wrist against your gland over and over.

You tuck yourself into them, head laying on Simon’s chest and his hand comes slowly to rub your back, getting you used to his touch, easing you into a more relaxed state while Johnny smooths a hand over your shoulder, coasting his wrist closer and closer to your gland, trying to scent you subtly and soothe you, gentle you. You whimper when he makes contact, and they both press a little closer.

“Shhh. You’re okay, darling. We’re here.” Simon bows his head, skimming his nose overtop your scalp, and you shift, hands grabbing for Johnny, trying to pull his body overtop yours, effectively sandwiching yourself as tight as you can between their mass. You whine, and Johnny hums in your ear, soothing you by scenting until you’re letting out little rumbles of your own, soft purrs puffing against Simon’s chest, Johnny’s lips ghosting across your sweat dotted forehead.

#🫔 anon #tamale anon you genius! #peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

[iwaizumis-bitch]

𝔦 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔶 𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔞~

𝔰𝔶𝔭𝔫𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔰: haikyuu men and reader (you!!!) getting freaky on camera

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: f! reader, degrading names, creampies, photography during sex, tummy bulging.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1182

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

it was a well known fact amongst all of kiyoomi's closest friends that a polaroid photo of you sat in the front card slot sakusa's wallet. it was a photo of you with a nervous smile and a large bouquet of tulips, taken the night of one of you and kiyoomi's first dates. you smiled at the photo, remembering the memory fondly.

just as you were about to fold the wallet shut, the border frame of another polaroid sticking out the top caught your eye. you'd flipped through kiyoomi's wallet countless times, whether it be grabbing some change to tip the doordash driver or to grab his coffee card to stamp, but never once had you noticed another polaroid.

you let out a small huff of confusion, pulling out the photo. your face immediately warms up as you're greeted with the sight of your own face, only this time your tongue was out and painted with streaks of white. your eyes were squeezed shut from the flash and a slender hand was wrapped around your bitten neck. you remembered sakusa told you that night, 'you look like a bona fide cumslut', and there was no doubt about it.

you felt an ache between your legs as you remembered all the things kiyoomi had done to you that night. all the filthy praise and condescending names he called had you take a sharp breath in. and like a predator drawn to its prey, you felt a looming presence behind you and a hand coming up to slide the polaroid next to the on display polaroid of you.

'everyone knows you as such a sweet girl', he coos into your ear, stroking his thumb over the bouquet of flowers. your heart skipped a beat as you felt his erection grind up against your ass, his nose nuzzling against your hair.

'but only i know the real you'.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

'shit', iwaizumi groaned as his hips stuttered, slamming into your ass one more time as he filled your cunt with his cum. his hips rolled against yours, teeth gritted as he made sure to release every drop inside of you. his biceps trembled, finally letting himself plop down on top of you, kissing against the side of your neck. as blissful as he felt like this, he was a gentleman before anything and quickly began on aftercare.

he slowly pulled out, trudging to the en suite to fetch a washcloth. after running it under the tap, he gently moved your hair from your neck, placing the cool cloth where he could see you were sweatiest. he let out a little laugh at your hum of relief, watching the side of your face disappear into the fold of your elbow.

he moved down, gently spreading your legs apart watching as his cum started to trickle out and down your thigh. his cock immediately perked up again, rubbing his thumb over the skin of your inner thigh. it was such a pretty sight, he wanted to be able to see you like this whenever he wanted. his eyes snapped to his phone, nestled among the bedsheets, and a perverted idea came to his head.

'y/n?', he asked gently, hand resting on your lower back. it wasn't uncommon for you to fall asleep after being bred, especially after a long day of work. at your lack of reply he grabbed his phone, quickly swiping to open his camera. he tapped to make sure the camera was focused, he softly spread open your pussylips, taking a photo of your thoroughly spent pussy, and cum covered thighs.

'whatcha doin?', you mumble, tilting your head back to the side, having been woken from your light slumber at the sound of a shutter clicking. a small smirk was playing on your lips as you saw hajime's shocked face, clearly not expecting you to catch him in such an act.

'sorry', he mumbled, cheeks flaming. 'i'll delete it, you just looked so hot i-', he fumbled around his words, licking his lips.

'mmm, show me', you hum, looking at him expectantly. he pauses for a moment, before moving to lay down on his side beside you, hesitantly bringing up the couple of photos he had taken. he watched as you start to nibble on your lip, zooming into the photo.

'that's hot, keep it', you say, blatant and unashamed, smiling sultrily up at him. 'but please just clean me up so i can go to sleep', and who was he to deny you of anything he asked, he thought, nodding quickly as he grabbed the washcloth, but not before saving the photo to his favourites folder. he kisses atop your head, mumbling against your skin.

'how about you take some of me next time?

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

you had photography to thank for everything in your life, after all, it was how you had first met your husband. as a photography major at your local university, you were one of the few students selected to photograph the Schweiden Adlers season opening match. you were too entranced trying to focus your lens to notice the volleyball flying towards you, only realising the dire situation you were in when one of the players you were supposed to be photographing ran out in front of you, batting the ball away.

well now, wakatoshi was the one too entranced on trying to focus the lens. you knew not to boss him around, but you really wished he'd hurry up and twist the focus ring. you were both laying naked on your bed, you lying on your back with him between your legs, fiddling with the camera. you can't help but let out an impatient whine, reaching out and grabbing his cock.

his eyes snap to yours, jaw locked as he set the camera down. he grabs your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lip. 'where, oh where did my good little girl go?', he teases. his gaze doesn't break as he watches you squirm in fear, albeit he's not stopping you from jerking his cock.

you grab the head of his cock, shuffling forward to press it against the entrance of your pussy. 'i'm here', you mumble around his finger, ashamed of your impudence. before you can even think to start to beg for him to fuck you already, wakatoshi sheathes his entire cock into you in one quick motion.

immediately, your eyes rolled to the back of your head then squeezed shut as a needy moan sounded from your quivering lips. he held your hips in place to stop you from squirming around, and just relished in the feeling of your pussy wrapped so snug around his pulsing cock.

he took his time picking up the digital camera, his other hand resting over the obvious bulge poking out of your lower stomach. 'breathe baby', he reminds you, watching you flounder around in your aroused state. he snaps a quick photo of your stomach, with his hand resting on your him. he scoffs when he hears you whining again, feeling your pussy twitch around him. he chuckles at your desperation, leaning down to whisper into your ear

'how do i video on this thing, i wanna make you my personal pornstar?'

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, follows, and general feedback are all appreciated♥️

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq smut #iwaizumi smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #i forgot how to tag is that all #guys……i hope u like this

[bitten-fruit]

I am begging on my knees for a part two to cowboy price😭🙏

here she is!!! cowboy price part 2!! I really really hope you enjoy it ♥︎♥︎

18+ mdni - cw: spanking - ~2.8k words

John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You like to trespass. He teaches you a lesson.

Here's part 1! (and there will probably be a part 3 lol i'm having way too much fun)

Staring face down into the bale of prickling hay, sipping the turgid air like warm milk, you scoured your mind for your next apology. There was a long list of transgressions Mr Price could demand an apology for. Would he punish you for every single one?

Did you want him to?

His spread hand hovered over the skin of your rear, a threat – it ghosted over the fine fuzz and triggered ripples of gooseflesh to radiate out from the faint touch.

“I’m sorry for–” you uttered, barely a croak, “for making you chase me.”

The second you spoke it, your entire body tensed itself on instinct – girding itself for the discipline that would inevitably follow. Swift, and purposeful; he raised his arm, reeling it back like the string of a bow.

And he released it just as suddenly, hurling his palm downward rapidly enough to emit a whistle through the air; it collided with your ass in a sharp smack, over the same burning handprint he had already left there.

The force of it thrusted you forward, knocked a helpless squeal from your throat. You whimpered at the grit and dust grinding under your knees as it rocked you, your hands flat on the haybale turned to fists as you desperately squeezed handfuls of straw.

“Mhm,” he grumbled, grave and deep, “and?”

You swallowed air through your open mouth, your heart thundered in your ears – out of breath, but too wary to inhale deeply enough to sate it.

“For…” you hesitated, “for talking bad on your father.”

Keeping your hips still with his restraining forearm, he raised his free arm once again; you held your breath, squeezed shut your eyes in preparation for the blow. Swing. Smack.

Each collision of his vicious hand over the same spot burned worse than the last, as though his palm was adorned with barbs that pierced your fevered skin on impact. Yet a quiet moan slithered from your chest, slipped from your tongue, oozed like honey.

He drew in a grumbling breath, strained as he sucked it deep. Could he hear the pining titillation in your throat, dripping from each yelp? Might he hit you harder for it?

You winced, shivered, as his wide hand rested against the matching print that only grew more raised and more red by the second, the touch by turn warming and punishing. “Keep goin’.”

“I’m–”

Bitten off by a gasp as his fingers pushed in only slightly, burrowing into the pillowy flesh of your ass as though the squeeze was unintentional – the pressure on your near-broken skin inflicted an ache that made you whimper.

“I’m sorry for stealing cherries,” you force out, in a wet mewl.

He bore his dissatisfaction with a cocksure suck of his teeth. “Whose cherries?”

“Yours,” you squeaked.

“Mm,” he nodded, grinded out through a tight jaw. “Mine.”

Followed quickly your chastisement; the swish of his hand hurtling through the air, the ear-splitting crack of his open palm striking beaten flesh, the whine of twisted thrill that squealed out from your lips.

“My cherries–” he spat, unrelenting; again he lifted his palm, letting it hover in the air for a brief moment before he brought it down with a force.

Smack.

“–My orchard–”

Smack.

“–My hat–”

Smack.

“–My horses–”

Smack.

“–My stable–”

Smack.

“–My land.”

Smack.

The final blow threw a saccharine cry from your heaving lungs, dosed with a shameful squeak of desperation, wet and eager; eyes watering, your head collapsed into the haybale, prickly against your bright red cheek.

The skin of your rear stung numb, throbbing like a heartbeat, your knees shook with the adrenaline that riddled you from head to toe.

And as you adjusted your knees to balance yourself after he had knocked you off kilter – you felt the slick that had seeped from you, drenching your cunt in slippery syrup, the cool air biting cold at the saturated patch of your floral pointelle panties.

You could only suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down in abashment and guilt, self-flagellation for the burning heat that had pooled between your legs; almost as blindingly consuming as the white-hot sting of his hand-shaped brand.

He leaned back from you, balanced himself with his hand on your ass. Panting like a wolf, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand as though he had overexerted himself, broken a sweat in his outburst. Seemed to pause as he looked over his handiwork – had spanked you hard enough that you wouldn’t doubt how crisp the perfect outline of his hand would have been. Perhaps it was purple, speckled with the spots of broken capillaries and blood seeping under the hot skin.

But it mustn’t have been the damage he had inflicted that he was stuck on, as you heard his heavy breathing degrade into hoarse, animalistic chuffing; a broken grunt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.

You felt his thumb, slow and probing as though influenced by an unseen force – creep towards the cleft of your ass, running along the elastic lace hem of your panties. Teased the trim like it might slip underneath, but it didn’t. No, instead, he hovered it over the gusset, barely grazing the sodden fabric.

Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled weakly, a quiet simper as he pushed his thumb into the valley of your cunt; wetting the tip with your fluid that soaked the thin cotton, dipping into you as though the single layer of fabric wasn’t the only barrier preventing him from plunging it deeper.

He must have felt the ring of muscle at your entrance tighten and twitch, an inadvertent reflex to his intrusion – because he abruptly tugged his hand away. You quickly released a sharp and feverish breath, cunt still pulsing around the painful absence of his finger.

“Alright,” he huffed, through teeth, as he rubbed the back of his head in exasperation. “Reckon you learned your lesson.”

You squeaked as you felt his pelvis press against yours, weighing against you from behind; as he leaned over you, reaching past you to pick up the cattleman that he had knocked from your head.

“Huh?” He persisted.

“Yes,” you croaked, realising his demand, you were quick to follow it. You leaned upright, kneeling still, as you tugged down the skirt of your dress to cover yourself; grimacing as the light fabric brushed over the burning welt on your rear.

With a hand on his knee he pushed himself to stand, sniffing in vexation as he dusted off his jeans. Bowed his head to put his hat back in its rightful place, pinching the leather crown with a single hand as he gave it a shimmy to adjust it. “Yes what?”

Through a whimper, you whispered, “Yes sir.”

“’Atta girl,” he gritted, “learned you some manners.”

You feebly swept a lock of your dishevelled hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, too poignantly humiliated to think of anything pert to utter.

“Up y’get.”

It took you a moment to gather the nerve to stand, breathing carefully as you placed your hand on the edge of the haybale. Impatient, evidently, John bent down to you, slipping his broad hands under your arms in an effort to pick you up.

You yipped, wriggling away from his grasping hands as he hoisted you upright, and you landed on your feet with a wobble. “I can walk,” you bit.

“Yeah, right,” he groused, spinning you by the torso before hooking his arm around your waist; you yelped as he tossed you callously over his shoulder like a wet rag. “I ain’t letting you run off again, missy.”

“I wasn’t gonna run,” you whinged, but you mustered no resistance as he hauled you towards the stable door, kicking it open with his boot.

He snorted as he adjusted you on his shoulder, carting you out into the evening sun – appeared the sun had begun its approach to the horizon since you had run off from him, you forgot the days were beginning to grow shorter. The hum of the cicadas still blared just as loud as earlier, though, and the air just as warm, despite the fading orange glow of the sunlight.

Trudging through the long grass, no doubt towards his truck, he chided; “D’you expect me to trust you?”

You bit your tongue, scoured your scrambled mind for any retaliation. “I don’t want to get in trouble again,” you mumbled. 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he sneered, “I think trouble is the only thing you want.”

The pressure of his thumb lingered against your entrance, a permanent impression that made your heart flutter at the memory. Perhaps he was right.

“That’s not true.”

“No?” He questioned scornfully, grasping hand digging into the side of your waist to keep you steady. “Then why’d you come back here, huh?”

You pouted, staring into the grass, watching the back of his boots rise and fall with each step. Would you tell him it was just to see him? Just to have him find and scold you? Just to toe the line? Long since crossed, wasn’t it.

“I wanted some cherries,” you lied.

“Uh-huh,” he scoffed, as the grass began to shorten, bleeding to the rubble and dust of the old road. You heard the deep click of a handle, the rattling of the truck door, the moaning of its old hinges as it swung open. “Was it worth it?”

You hesitated, gasping as he tossed you into the passenger door of his Chevy – you landed on your back across the worn leather bench seat, bouncing slightly in the fall, head narrowly missing the steering wheel.

“Yes,” you breathed, to answer his question, and he froze like you had caught him in a bear trap.

Stood imperiously between your knees, as your feet dangled out of the open door, skirt having been rucked up by the landing. He glowered down at you, lips in a thin and admonishing line, but his predacious eyes betrayed his stoic righteousness.

Glare clawed down your splayed form from your dewy lips, to the swell of your breasts, to the bare skin where your thighs met your hips. Catching a glimpse of the mound of your pussy from under the hem, hidden from him by the dainty fabric of your underwear.

He breathed raggedly through flared nostrils, put a white-knuckled hand against the top of the doorframe, casting a looming shadow over your body. His gaze was pointed, fiery, burned from lidded eyes - you felt the heat of his stare, it made you sweat, made your cunt ache unbearably for his attention.

Tongue squirming, too bashful to form a plea; you made your entreaty with a meek hand, tracing your fingertips down your stomach, catching in the pleats and folds of your linen dress. With a hook of your fingers under the hem of your skirt, you coaxed it upwards, coyly exposing yourself bit by bit. Watched cautiously as his lour raptly followed your movements, belying his stone-faced expression.

But he stopped you, or himself, with a pat of his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. Left it there. And he ordered, dark and strained;

“Settle down.”

With a moan of petulant defeat, you dropped your arm to your side.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he grumbled, reaching for your skirt – did so with purposeful cruelty, letting his calloused hand graze up your thigh as he grabbed the hem and tugged it downwards to cover your panties.

He took impatient hold of your knees and swivelled them inside the cab, before shutting the passenger door with a creaking swing and a loud slam. You sat yourself upright, wincing at the painful reminder of the lashings on your rear as it pressed into the firm leather seat. He marched around the truck and hopped in behind the steering wheel, you crossed your arms churlishly as you glared out the passenger window.

Peevishly huffing as he started the engine and accelerated off down the deteriorated dirt road, you bounced around in your seat, the vibrations of the rolling vehicle doing little to settle the sore throbbing between your legs.

“I’m telling my dad what you did,” you griped, rich with spite.

“You can tell ‘im whatever you want,” he scoffed, hanging his arm out his open window, wrenching the steering wheel in the tight grip of his closer hand.

“I’ll tell him you hit me.”

“Yeah?” He gibed, “Gonna tell him how worked up you got?”

Scowling, you felt your cheeks glow red as you glowered out the window. “I wasn’t worked up,” you fibbed.

“Mm. Sure seemed like it.” You could hear his smirk without having to look at him.

You fumed. “Sounds like you’re proud of yourself."

He only released a quiet and scornful huff of laughter in response to that. Nothing snide left to say, now that you’d accused him of purposefully arousing you. But he was right. It was all you could think about, writhing and sizzling in your mind and in your stomach; a fire that he had lit, and now he mocked you for being ablaze.

Daddy’s house came into view, two storeys high with a wrap-around veranda, cladded in chipped white siding and adorned in carved cornices. Sat atop a rolling hill of dry grass, surrounded by century-old white oaks that kept it shaded.

You could only sulk, keeping your arms vitriolically crossed and refusing to utter a single word until the truck rolled to a halt over the raw gravel of the turn-around driveway.

Your father was where you’d often find him; leisurely lounging on the wicker veranda bench, reading glasses on his nose and some dull book about the economy in hand. But he perked up at the arrival of Mr Price’s truck, an especially unfamiliar sight, one that would no doubt spike some suspicion.

John left the engine running and hopped out of the truck. You sorely begrudged the dire possibility that you’d be forced to return to your childhood home, stuck in the tedium of your quotidian life, left to only daydream about the events of the afternoon as you washed dishes and folded laundry.

So in the brief seconds you had before he stormed around to the passenger side, you slipped your hands under your dress. Tucked your fingertips into the waistband of your panties, bucked your hips as you shimmied them down your legs and plucked them over your feet. And you nestled them behind you, out of sight as John yanked open your door, beckoning with an impatient and commanding hand for you to step out.

You groaned as you followed his wordless demand, jumping down into the gravel and glaring up at him with a vindictive curl in your lips. You spitefully stayed still, then, not taking a step in any direction of your own volition, wary that he might glance upwards and spot the coquettish little calling card you left in his truck.

“Move it,” he ordered. 

You only pouted. “You’re a dick.”

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he tugged your shoulder in the direction of your house – then lodged his hand at the back of your neck, under your hair, an authoritative grasp so that he could drive you by it. And he did, nudging you along, you stumbled awkwardly over your bare feet as you were carted towards your veranda.

Daddy pushed himself to stand, holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the blinding setting sun as he ambled to the top of the deck stairs.

“Johnathan,” he spat, disgruntled and apathetic – just wanted to get back to his book, no doubt. And when he spotted you, last, of course, he queried; "That you, hun?”

You glared into the gravel, flushed with fervent humiliation, disguising it as malice.

“Found her trespassing,” John yelled, terse and irate. “Again.”

Your father hooked his thumbs in his beltloops, squinting down at him. “Fence is on your property, John. S’your problem if she fits through the gaps.”

“You need to keep a handle on your daughter,” John snarled, thick with derision, fuse running short. He released your neck with a slight shove, then, and you vindictively rolled your shoulder away from his lingering touch.

Your father snorted. “Looks like y’got a better handle on her than I ever will.”

Had enough, you stormed away from the condescending rancher, marching with your arms crossed towards the steps.

“Y’know what happens if I catch you back on my property, don’t you, girl?” John barked after you, a growl in his throat.

Shoving past your bewildered father as you trudged up the creaking stairs, you rolled your eyes. Concealed the coy smirk that curled in the corner of your lips, you answered with a grouse;

“Trouble.”

for the besties who asked to be tagged in part 2, here you go!! @lilliumrorum @stars4sar @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @iamnotfinedaddy @erajoie07 @rafaelacallinybbay

#can you tell i listen to lana del rey #john price #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price #cod fanfic #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut

[hyunverse]

kisses with hyunjin almost always last for hours. single pecks do not exist with hyunjin — he's passionate, always seeking for more. he'd push you against the bed, lips feverishly moving against yours.

he doesn't have technique — just, passion. he kisses with his heart, moving his tongue and lips in the same rythm his heart is beating. it's messy. his lips would be stained with your lipstick, saliva everywhere. you'd pull away for a breather, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, and he'd giggle. then, it's not long until he'd push his lips against yours again, eyes drooping from love. hyunjin physically can't last without making out with you, always eager to push his lips against yours again to the point of panting. he'd be consumed with need, gripping and grabbing on every inch of your body as he kisses. in the end, both your lips would be red, bitten. he takes pride in that.

once hyunjin pulls away for good, he'd take a moment to stare. admiring the state of you. he'd rub his thumb on your lips, rubbing in the remnants of his saliva. he'd end it all with a long kiss on your forehead, and a hushed confession of, "i love you."

#hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin drabble #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin oneshots #hwang hyunjin oneshots #hyunjin thirst #hyunjin smut #soft hrs: hyunjin!

[hellfire--cult]

Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Reader

+18 hurt/comfort, angst, depression, omega dropping, mean!eddie, rejection, abo dynamic

Not proofread, just needed to put my hurt into words. i was sad this morning and this came out.

Dropping is a self defense mechanism for Omegas when their needs aren't met. That could be rejection from their alpha, having no pack, having no pups, not being able to scent, etc. They induce themselves in a non responsive state, sometimes comatose until they feel safe once again.

wc: 4k+

Plot: Eddie is the reason you drop.

SCENT

Eddie Munson wanted to be your mate back in Hawkins when he had presented a courting gift. It wasn’t out of nowhere, he was very much sure you were his mate because well, you had spent your heat with him, as well as he spent his rut with you. You also met with him every so often to mess around and just stare at the stars above his trailer. He was sure you were going to be his mate, because you two had confessed to each other even.

But you rejected him.

You never gave him a reason, never gave him the motive for your rejection and why you led him on the way you did, but that’s what made Eddie greatly despise you. Now, you had a reason for the rejection. Your father had realized the relationship you had with the Male Alpha, and he had dimmed Eddie a worthless suitor. You would have eloped of course, you were ready to do so, but your father wasn’t an ordinary man at all. 

Your father threatened to kill Eddie if you were to run away with him.

He promised you he would find you both and you would become a lonely Omega with a bitten mating gland and that would probably make you spiral into absolute madness. You didn’t care about what happened to you, but you did care about Eddie. You were so happy when he had presented a courting gift to you. You were so absolutely happy…

But your father’s words came back into your mind and even if your heart broke, even if your omega self was trying to claw out of your skin to go towards Eddie, your alpha, your other half of your protective and motherly omega wanted to protect him at all costs. So you stepped away without any reason, without telling him what had truly happened behind your house’s doors. His scent became bitter, so bitter that you had to scrunch up your nose at the unfamiliar smell he sent your way. He hated you.

Eddie then left Hawkins.

And everything you did to protect him was in vain, because your father started presenting possible suitors for you, Alphas that would give you everything, riches, family… But you rejected every single one of them, and your father got fed up with your nonsense after a year of trying. Your mother just stood there as your father prepared your bags and put them at the front door. He kicked you out of the house and out of his pack. 

Your friends had left for Indianapolis so you headed over there as well, trying to find comfort in them, wanting to be scented if they were still a pack. You moved, you actually found a decent job as an assistant, and you could afford rent in a nice apartment that had a living room, kitchen and a bedroom. But when you finally crossed paths with Robin Buckley after calling her on her cell phone, her scent was very familiar. Your Beta friend had a pack that was for sure, but the scent she was emanating meant that they had a particular Alpha as a protector, as a leader.

So when you finally met up with everyone once more at Robin’s home, the scent that hit your nostrils was too potent, as if there was a wildfire spreading all over the room, only to become bitter and sour in the matter of seconds because there in the middle of the room stood Eddie Munson, in his new Alpha glory. He was bigger, beard covering his features, hair tied back as he stared at you with hatred in his eyes.

Everyone noticed how your scent transformed into a humid kind of smell, meaning that sadness was present in yourself as well as fear. You weren’t welcome in the pack, and he made it clear as he forbade everyone to scent you. He didn’t want you near him, he didn’t want you to mess him up again, and now that he found his pack and he actually recovered from the pain you caused, he wasn’t going to let you ruin it with your smell.

He believes you don’t deserve it, even though he could smell you as a packless Omega, he tried to not take pity on you, but it was impossible, yet his resolve stayed the same. Steve was an Alpha as well, but since he had mated with Jonathan, his protection only served for his mate, so Eddie became the leader of the pack instantly. 

You had tried to talk to him, to explain what had happened a year ago, but he wouldn’t listen. He had screamed at you to leave him alone in his Alpha voice, which only made you close your mouth, and step away from him. His heart broke as he smelled the fear in you, and how you left a lingering sour scent as you walked away from him. 

The first heat you suffered in Indianapolis was brutal.

You had nothing to nest with. You had no possessions of your pack, scents of the people you cared about, so you had to fake a nest with your sheets, putting them all around you to create a placebo effect– But your heat was painful, trying to pleasure yourself as your slick covered your entire bed, memories of Eddie helping you through it rushing in your mind which only made the pain even worse. 

You contemplated calling Robin, asking her to tell Eddie to come to your house, to help you– But you remembered how he had ordered you to stay away, and the omega inside you, the one that still held onto him as a mate, listened. 

When you met Billy Hargrove, a very powerful Alpha in the city, you really did believe you finally found a pack. You were talking non stop, getting to know each other, going on dates together, and Robin was very happy for you. She had been trying to make Eddie come to his senses about you joining the pack, afraid of what might happen to you, but Eddie refused once again telling Robin that you could manage alone because that was your decision a year ago.

Your heat was coming up and Billy had yet to scent you, so when you finally became intimate with him you were hoping he would. But he had remained away from you as he penetrated you, holding you down on the bed as he took what he wanted from you. Once it was over, you tried to nuzzle his neck, scent him and probably rub some of his on you. He pushed you away instantly and told you that he didn’t feel the connection he thought he would, and after three months of knowing him, he left you.

The second heat you suffered in Indianapolis was torture.

There were traces of Billy’s scent in some sheets, but it wasn’t enough for your nest, and you remembered the fact that he had decided you were not going to be his mate, only making the situation worse thanks to the rejection. You weren't good enough, he didn't want you, just like Eddie doesn't want you now.

Once again, you found yourself looking at your phone in order to call Robin, to bring you some of her clothes, maybe even get help from Steve who also, with his mate’s approval, wanted to scent you. 

Eddie’s fear settled in when Robin told him you had spent another heat alone, and he had been even angrier at you the past few months for dating another Alpha. Now knowing that your Alpha had left you alone in your worst time made him feel like dying and he wanted to murder the other man.

He cared for you and he cursed at himself for the pull you had on him still. It wasn’t fair. He had suffered triggered ruts due to your rejection, painful stabs in his gut and brain for the lack of you, the lack of your touches, your smell, your voice… 

You looked lifeless after your heat. Robin noticed and was going to go against Eddie’s orders as she prepared a bag with her clothes to give to you. You declined it. You were going to make Robin lose her pack, possibly, if she did this. If Eddie smelled himself on you without him actually scenting you, he would know that it was Robin. 

So now, it was your third heat in Indianapolis.

And it was murdering you.

Your fingers this time did find your phone, tears running down your face, as every single muscle in your body started tensing, slowly and painfully. It was Eddie’s birthday, and of course you were not invited. You wouldn’t have been able to attend anyways because you knew your calendar, and you knew it was close, but you weren’t prepared for how torturous it would be. 

Your bed had slicked sheets all over it, not even caring of making a make pretend nest with them any longer. Your closet was a mess as you tried to find something that didn’t have your smell on it because you could feel your heart about to explode and your whines could probably be heard all over your omega complex. You couldn't make a nest. You didn't have a nest.

You didn't have a pack. You didn't have a mate. No one wants you. You were never going to be able to have pups. You are a worthless and useless Omega.

So why keep trying?

Your body was on fire even if you had stripped to nothing, splashed yourself in cold water, until you had finally landed on your bed, unable to move. You couldn’t even touch yourself, you didn’t have any power left in you, but your fingers and hand could still move.

“Hello?” You heard Robin call your name as music blasted behind her. You opened your mouth only for your voice to get caught in your throat, choked small sobs escaped you and that’s when Robin lost it. “TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC DOWN!” 

“I-I–” You couldn’t speak, it was painful, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Baby, please, what’s wrong?” Robin panicked, pacing around the room as everyone stared at her, including Eddie whose gut was slowly falling to the ground. 

“S–Shirt– Please– I need it–” Your cracked voice, your sobs, and the whines. Everyone in the room could hear the whines. Steve immediately took his jacket off. Jonathan took his sweater off. Nancy didn’t know you, but her inner alpha became full alert at the sound and she understood in a single second what was going on, taking her cardigan off herself as well. Dustin stared at Eddie in disbelief as the Alpha male had wide eyes, head spinning around uncontrollably as he stared at Robin.

“I’m going, I’m going, I’m getting you stuff okay?! Just remember I’m going!” The phone clicked and Robin looked down at it with shaky hands and her head finally snapped towards Eddie and for the first time, something that almost never happened could be heard in the room. 

A Beta was actually defying an Alpha. 

A small growl was shot at Eddie’s way as she started gathering everyone’s belongings. Eddie at this point, did not care for his scent to be passed over, he didn’t care any longer. You were in danger and it was his fault. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He grabbed onto his car keys, despite Robin telling him that he shouldn’t come, that he is going to make everything worse, but he didn’t listen, he didn’t want to listen. 

So when they got to your complex, Robin used her spare keys to actually get inside as Eddie snuck in. He could smell the alarmed omegas at the scent of an Alpha in the building, but he had to get to you. He had to reach you in time. You were three floors up, and in the second one he could already smell you and it wasn’t sweet like the heats you spent with him. It wasn’t something that was triggering his arousal, or his need to mate you. It was triggering his need to save you.

And when Robin opened your door, even she couldn’t handle the smell, and Eddie almost hunched over at the pain it shot inside of him. Robin didn’t waste a second as she ran into your room, only to find you naked, sweat all over, body trembling and nonsense spouting out of your mouth. She panicked as she started placing everyone’s belongings around you and she took her shirt off, leaving her in her bra only, not caring at all about Eddie entering the room.

His eyes bulged out of his skull at the sight of you. His eyes filled with tears as his body yelled at him to go towards you, to hold you, to scent you, but he knew that would make it worse for you, because he had commanded you before to stay away from him. His heart was clenching inside his chest as Robin kneeled on the bed next to you, putting her shirt over your chest so you could smell her. She was crying as she held you, cradling you up so your face could hit her chest.

“I’m here! I– I brought everyone’s scents, I put them all around you baby, I’m here–” Robin was choking sobs as you stared at the ceiling, completely gone, mumbles coming out of your mouth that she started to be able to listen and understand, only for her heart and the Alpha’s that was still shocked in the room, break in pieces.

“I-I can’t smell them, I can’t–” You lost your sense of smell. Rejection was present in your core, your mind, your heart and Robin could smell it becoming stronger. “I–I’m useless, I have no pack– n-no one wants m-my pups– No one wants me–”

Eddie wanted to yell, tell you that he does, tell you that he is here, tell you that he was a fucking idiot, tell you that he still loves you and he still believes you are his mate, that you have always been and always will despite you rejecting him.

“Baby, baby, you’re not, you’re not, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m here–” You weren’t processing Robin’s words, the word useless repeating in your head all the time, like a mantra. You were rejected, an outcast, and the only person you thought of as your long lasting mate didn’t want anything to do with you.

And then, your body stopped trembling, and Robin saw how your features relaxed, your eyes became half-lidded as if in a sleepy state, and your body weight was heavier than before. Robin looked all over you to see signs of movement, anything at all, but even your smell was gone. 

You dropped. 

And Eddie, Eddie felt like killing himself for it. 

“This is all your fault… I shouldn’t have listened to you…”

Eddie refused to leave your side, despite Robin and even Nancy wanting him to leave the room. Steve and Jonathan didn’t even look his way, and Eddie knew he was losing his pack, but at this point he didn’t care, he deserved it, all of it. His scent was almost unbearable for everyone else in the room, musky but in a very bad way, almost rotten. 

You were in a hospital room. Your whole body was connected to IVs, to machines, your beating heart still heard on the small monitor, that only made a tiny bit on everyone’s minds have some peace. They had surrounded your body with clothes, accessories, even socks just to try to make you feel safe again.

Suddenly, a sob could be heard in the room, a low groan, almost a whine but not quite because he can’t manage to do that. His head was in his hands as he stared down at the floor and Dustin, despite his friend acting wrongly, he still decided to walk over to him and crouch to pass onto him his still pup smell. He still hasn’t presented, even at 15 years old, despite his friends already done so. 

“P-Please Dustin, h-her.” Eddie choked and Dustin understood immediately, walking over to your still body and leaning down to dip his head into the crook of your neck. He whined when he couldn’t smell you, still he rubbed his face against your skin, trying to make his scent linger. 

You didn’t wake.

Days passed, then a week, and Eddie was becoming desperate, feral even and in the bad way. He was pacing back and forth in his room, and he decided to go against his pack’s orders. He started putting on clothes, shirts, pants, and in each one, he did some push ups in order for him to sweat even more than before. He had gathered almost all of the shirts he owned, his sweatshirts, pants, hoodies, bandanas, even underwear and put it all in a duffel bag. 

He rushed to the hospital like a maniac and when he entered the room he commanded everyone to get out. Jonathan flinched at his orders and immediately rushed out, but Eddie sensed the defying Beta in the room that was covering your body protectively for him to not come any closer. 

“Robin, please– Please–” He knew it was karma. He had denied everyone else to scent you, and now, Robin was out of his pack, his scent no longer lingering over her because she wouldn’t let him come close to her, and she was the one that now didn’t want his scent over you.

But Robin was desperate too. You were a great friend to her, helped her deal with her undying love for Nancy, knowing it can’t ever happen. Betas and Alphas are a rare pair, and she didn’t think Nancy would want a Beta as her long mate. She couldn’t even bite her. They would never be able to mate.

They had tried everything, switching clothes everyday, Dustin coming over to try to scent you but his pup smell was very dim due to his age. The only one that hadn’t put any clothes around your nest, was Eddie. Your past mate. Your past Alpha. 

Robin was completely desperate.

Enough so that she actually left the room. Eddie immediately got to work, taking his clothes out of the bag to put them alongside everyone else's, all around you in order to make a nest. His tears ran down his face, his head painfully throbbing as your eyes remained closed, an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose.

How could he forgive himself for this? How could he live with the thought of you stuck in a bed because of what he did? 

“Darling, please open your eyes…” His face came close to yours after many months of dying to do so, after a year and a half of doing it for the last time while you two laid on his bed back at the trailer park. You didn’t want his scent on you so you two wouldn’t be caught, but that night he couldn’t help himself, and you didn’t either. The next day, you rejected him.

His face nuzzled your neck, his mouth traced your skin, placing soft kisses as he cried for not being able to smell you. That sweet smell he remembered every night, every day, at every hour. He wrapped his hand at the back of your neck in order to lift you up slightly so he could rub his scent gland against yours, repeating the action on the other side. 

A gasp was heard in the room as the heart rate monitor picked up slightly. 

His eyes widened as he pulled away to see your eyes staring widely at the ceiling, not understanding what’s going on, why you’re here, why is his scent all over you, why does he feel so close to you? You were choking into the mask, gasping for air, and you felt arms cradle you into a chest.

Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha?

“Hi Sweetheart.” He choked out as he felt you breathe against him, his head right on top of yours as he held you close. Your body relaxed into him, memories vividly replaying in your head, memories you’ve always wanted to repeat, memories that made you want to go back in time and not listen to your father. 

Your nose picked up various scents now, aside from Eddie, you could smell Robin. Even as a Beta she made sure to put her smell all over her clothes. You could smell Steve, Jonathan, an alpha you don’t know of but the smell was welcome either way… And you could smell the faint scent of a pup. A pup was here. A pup scented you.

You were safe. 

Eddie pulled away from you to look at your face again, and finally locked eyes with yours. Eyes that no longer held resentfulness, but guilt. Eyes that no longer held anger, but grief. Eyes that no longer held hate, but love. Pure and unconditional love. He didn’t care what happened in the past. He didn’t care any longer, but he cannot forgive himself for what he did to you. He cannot forgive himself for being the cause of all of this. He cannot forgive himself for causing you this much pain that you had to shut your brain off in order to go to a safer place. 

You smelled his bitterness, painful, making your stomach turn uncomfortably. You reached up to take the mask off your face and you couldn’t be away from him again. This time you will fight for your alpha. You will show him how much you want him, how much you’ve wanted him for the past year, how much you needed him the few months you’ve been in the city. 

So you let out calming pheromones from your body. He was hit with them immediately, making his shoulders relax as you held onto him. Clarity filled your head the more you looked at him, the more you stared at his features. His face contorted again, a frown appearing in his eyebrows as tears started spilling out of his eyes uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry– I’m– I’m so sorry–” He sobbed against you, wrapping his arms around you so he could dip his face into the crook of your neck again and his cries were louder as your scent filled his nostrils again. It was just like he remembered, but he didn’t understand why it was sweet and not sour. He didn’t understand why you didn’t pull away. He didn’t understand why you didn’t hate him.

And that’s when you told him everything as his face stayed still on your neck.

“I wanted to protect you…” You finished saying as tears rolled down your cheeks, uncontrollably so, and he pulled away to reveal his stained cheeks, a wild look on his face. He gulped as he rushed to take off his pick necklace, looking down at it only for then to show it to you in his hands, presenting it. 

You smiled at it through your tears because it was the same courting gift he had tried to give you back in Hawkins– and this time, you took it. 

Three months later, you were laughing while drinking a beer with Robin on your side while her hand was being held by Nancy on her other side. Steve had his arm around the new Alpha in the room who claimed he was going to be the next leader of the pack because the last one had already retired. Jonathan rolled his eyes at Dustin every time he said that, with a hand resting on his belly.

Eddie walked into the room with a beer in hand and sat next to you, on your other side in his couch, your couch, and dropped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. Robin rolled her eyes knowing the conversation was over now as she put her attention on Nancy while your eyes found Eddie’s. He smiled as he leaned towards you to press a deep kiss on your lips. 

You smiled in between the kiss, reciprocating it as you pressed a hand on his knee. You heard a growl rumbling in his chest and you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, making you pull away from his lips. 

“If I pop a knot right here, it’s entirely your fault.”

“You’re the horndog.” He rolled his eyes at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss in between your neck and shoulder, making you shiver as a smile spread all over your lips.

He kissed right over his bite mark.

I did say it was hurt/comfort.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, sorry if I didn't get it right, this is my first time writing about an Omega actually dropping.

Also if you're new in the omegaverse thing, yes, males get pregnant because they have the secondary gender, meaning they have vajayjays and uterus as well as their shafts.

Alpha females have dicks but cannot get pregnant.

That's all.

#i needed to vent #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #alpha!eddie munson x reader #omega!reader #abo #omegaverse #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson angst #robin buckley is the mvp in this #eddie x you #eddie x reader