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gleamingyu · 9 months

Text

hits different.

part I of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part II

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: romance. slight angst. drama.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). mentions of a pretty rough breakup. slight angst. some light cursing. mentions of death (jokingly though). terrible knowledge of law stuff (thank my brief interest in htgawm). yearning. loads of miscommunication. slow burn. cheol & reader are both stubborn. mentions of drinking. alternating povs. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is the first part of a new series i thought of! this is also my first time writing (or more like, finishing writing) something, so please be kind! any comments, reblogs or likes are welcome. and thank you to whoever decides to give this a chance :)

summary: still recovering from a not-so-fresh breakup, seungcheol leans on his friends to get back on his feet. it turns out to be much easier said than done, especially when his record label recruits the help of a law firm to deal with a recent scandal, which just so happens to be the same firm his ex works at. just his luck.

if anyone could see the scene in front of mingyu, they’d be severely concerned, much like he is at this very moment.

seungcheol is quite literally buried under a pile of blankets on his bed, the only visible part of his body a tuft of his dark brown hair. the floor of his bedroom is covered in clothes and empty food containers, and the air feels so stale and hot, it’s taking everything in mingyu not to gag. there is no light coming into the room except from the lightbulb shining in the hallway where mingyu is standing, and… is that… phoebe bridgers he can hear playing from somewhere?

mingyu glances down at his feet where kkuma, seungcheol’s devoted dog – and only girl who’s ever truly loved him, according to him – is sitting staring right back at him, a look on her fluffy face that mingyu swears looks just as depressed as her dad.

“this is way worse than i thought,” mingyu sighs, finally stepping into the bedroom. “okay, enough of this!”

mingyu grabs the blankets on the bed and pulls them away, revealing a very aggravated seungcheol. “what the hell are you doing?!”

“i’m not sure yet, because this,” mingyu gestures around the room, “is a lot. but it starts with you getting your ass out of bed and into the shower. immediately. this place smells like there’s a corpse somewhere in here.”

“yeah, it’s me. i’m the corpse. or i wish i was, because that would mean i’ve finally died,” seungcheol groans, turning away from mingyu and effectively shoving his face into the bed.

mingyu sighs, turning around to start collecting some of the dirty clothes on the floor. he finds himself regretting not calling jeonghan or joshua to come with him, because seungcheol might have been more easily persuaded to stop moping with them around. the reality is, they all thought seungcheol was doing better; he was back on his grind at work, finishing several albums he had been producing for, he was making progress in his jiu-jitsu classes, and he even joined the rest of the guys on their trip to australia last month, with minimal persuasion from his friends.

looking at the shell of a man laying on the bed in front of him, mingyu realizes he should’ve asked. he should’ve asked his friend how he was really doing, what he was feeling, what he could actually do to help him move past this.

better late than never.

“listen,” mingyu starts, going to sit on the edge of seungcheol’s bed but reconsidering. who knows when he last changed these. “i’m sorry if we haven’t really been there for you. i know a thing or two about breakups and heartbreak, so i guess i should’ve figured you weren’t alright, not like you said you were. you don’t have to keep all you’re feeling locked up. you can talk to us.”

seungcheol’s head moves slightly to the side, peeking at mingyu from the corner of his eye. he sighs, and turns on his back. mingyu tries not to cringe at seungcheol’s sullen face, his eyes red and still wet, as if he was still crying when mingyu arrived at his apartment.

“don’t beat yourself up, gyu. believe it or not, i was actually doing better. but a few days ago, i … i was cleaning around the closet by the entrance and …” he pauses, and mingyu thinks he might burst into tears. seungcheol breathes in however, closes his eyes, and continues. “i found one of her old hats. you know, the yellow crochet bucket hat she always used to wear in the summer? i bought it for her birthday when we had just started dating and … i don’t know, i just broke down. it hit me again that we’re over. like really.”

you and seungcheol broke up … four, five months ago? seungcheol shakes his head, he feels like time hasn’t passed the same since. days pass him by where he just goes over and over your last conversation – which was more of a fight, really – and he always ends up regretting everything he said that day. regrets resenting you for always working late, for never asking him to accompany you to firm events… regrets accusing you of some unspeakable things.

looking back, he can’t believe how big of an idiot he was. no wonder you left and didn’t even bother to come back to get your things. you left everything behind, all your clothes that still smelled of the lavender detergent you used to buy, your makeup haphazardly thrown into one of the bathroom drawers, the cooking books you always bought “for inspiration” but never, ever actually opened… and the yellow bucket hat you got from seungcheol for the first birthday you spent together. seungcheol had left everything where it was, a tiny part of him hoping you two would work this out somehow. but weeks went by with no word from you, and when he had tried reaching you, he came to the grave conclusion that you had blocked him on all platforms, cut him off from your life like a dead limb. back then he thought he deserved it. he still does.

“i’m sorry, hyung. i really am,” mingyu shakes seungcheol from his reverie, reaching a hand to pet his shoulder. a beat passes between them. “have you tried… calling her again since?”

“no. i don’t know what good it would do,” seungcheol sighs. “even if she answered, i doubt all the apologies i could offer would fix anything. i said some pretty fucked up shit.”

“yeah, i know. if you remember, i was there the next day ripping you a new one,” mingyu teases, desperately trying to cheer up his friend somehow. he swears he can see seungcheol’s lips twitch a bit. “but who knows… now that you both had some time to yourselves, you might actually be able to overcome this calmly. and if… if it doesn’t work out in the end, at least you’ll both have some closure.”

closure. that’s a funny word, because seungcheol wants the furthest thing from closure. he wants you back in his bed and your arms around him, he wants your indie artists he’s never heard of playing around the apartment in the morning, he wants your laugh echoing in the halls. he wants you.

he knows that the only way this ending could even be a possibility would be if he actually took mingyu’s advice and called you up, but another part of him is terrified of the other possibility: the one where you pick up and tell him to go to hell and fuck himself and never call you again or show his face around you. so for now, seungcheol opts for a third option: emotional limbo, with a side of trying-to-move-on.

he gets up from the bed and asks mingyu if he could help him straighten out the place. mingyu, bless his sweet heart, of course says yes and gets to work after sending seungcheol to clean himself up. just as he’s about to close the bathroom door, he hears mingyu’s exasperated voice.

“oh, for the love of god, where is that god-awful music coming from?!”

seungcheol can’t remember the last time he laughed so heartily.

the bar you find yourself in is bustling with people, laughter and cheerful conversations filling the space. you’re only half listening to whatever topic your two best friends, yunjin and chaeyoung, are discussing – something about “that bitch” in yunjin’s department at work that’s been giving her a hard time – instead reveling in the pleasant buzz of the champagne you’re nursing.

it had been a while since you were able to enjoy a nice evening with your girls. the past few months had been filled with endless meetings, client-induced headaches and sleepless nights, but thankfully, today you had managed to finally strike a deal for one of the firm’s most important clients (to be read as filthy rich), which you had been working towards all these months. naturally, upon hearing the news, chaeyoung and yunjin had begged you to join them at a bar in the city, “to celebrate your newfound freedom.”

you splurged on a bottle of champagne for the three of you and decided that tonight, you were going to have fun. you were going to relax, enjoy some drink, and catch up with your friends who you hadn’t seen in weeks.

and you will not, under any circumstances, bring up seungcheol.

you like to believe that in the last two months you had gotten better at shutting out any thought of your ex-boyfriend. in the days – more like weeks, if you were to ask chaeyoung and yunjin – following the ugly breakup, you were quite the literal mess. finding yourself alone and with nowhere to go, considering you had left the apartment you shared with seungcheol with nothing but your work stuff (how on-brand for you), it wasn’t surprising that your mental and emotional health had taken a massive hit. thankfully, at the insistence of yunjin, you agreed to crash at her place while you put yourself back together and took time off from work – something you had never done before.

to the surprise of your friends, it only took you two weeks to go back to work and start looking for your own place. two weeks after that, you were moving into a new apartment and claimed that you were feeling much better since the breakup. or at least starting to. chaeyoung and yunjin didn’t want to argue with you on this – even thought they 100% believed the front you were putting up was a load of crap – but in the end, they didn’t even have to, because the first time you went out with them again since the breakup, you had your first meltdown.

but was it really your fault that the man sitting two seats down the bar from you had ordered whiskey neat, just like seungcheol always used to? and was it really your fault that he was wearing a maroon leather jacket similar to the one seungcheol always used to wear in the fall, which you absolutely adored?

could they really blame you for bursting into tears right then and there and wailing about how much of a jerk seungcheol was for never understanding your dedication to your work? how much of a hypocrite he was for expecting you to just dip from the office when he suddenly had some free time, when he had never done so for you?

that night, chaeyoung and yunjin quite literally dragged you back to chaeyoung’s place and held you while you cried yourself to sleep, and in the morning, when you had embarrassingly admitted that “no, you weren’t really doing fine,” they held you again and offered soft-spoken words of support, opting to keep the classic we told you so in their thoughts.

four months passed since that incident and now, you could confidently say that you were truly feeling better. you weren’t quite over seungcheol per se; there were nights when you still thought about the smell of vanilla that filled the room whenever he was fresh out of a shower, the way he always got so giggly when you brought home a tray of cherries… yeah, you still found yourself missing him terribly sometimes. but the more time passed, you realized that seungcheol hadn’t tried reaching you at all in the months since the breakup, and so you thought he might be moving on as well.

it is true you had blocked him on all social platforms for weeks after you stormed out of your place. but on a particularly bad day, when all you did was cry and cry and cry after him, the thought of calling him up and asking him to go back to how things were crossed your mind, and you unblocked his number. unfortunately, your pride had set itself in your way, convincing you that it was seungcheol that needed to make the first step, considering he was the one who quite literally cornered you into a fight. so you didn’t call and instead prayed to whatever forces exist in the universe, that seungcheol would try your number again.

he never did.

“soooo, cheers to the lady of the hour! finally free from the clutches of corporate law!” yunjin cheered, clinking her glass against yours and knocking you out of your reverie.

damn it, seungcheol, i said i would not think of you tonight!

“yes, cheers!” chaeyoung joined in. “how do you feel? are you going to get a big ass bonus for the amount of time you put into this asshole?”

chaeyoung was probably right, you probably did deserve a huge ass bonus for the deal you pulled for the client you were handling. when you were in law school, you had never imagined yourself working for sleazy, corporate pigs who behaved like none of their actions would bite them in the ass eventually, and expecting others – like yourself – to clean up after them. but, as your boss grimly explained to you the day you had complained about your client, everybody has to start somewhere. “and junior partners don’t get to choose cases, sweetheart.”

life at the firm wasn’t always terrible. you were lucky enough to be part of an amazing team, and the firm worked with plenty of influential and big personalities, so you almost never had to worry about your income. but sometimes, some of the people you were asked to represent brought you to the brink of just quitting your job altogether.

“i just feel relieved,” you say. “if i had to hear the incessant whining and nagging of that idiot for one more day, i might have gone insane!”

“well, thank god you’re a stellar lawyer and managed to get rid of him,” yunjin teases, taking a sip of her drink. “do you already have anything else lined up?”

“god, no! i have a few days off just to take care of paperwork, maybe help out some of my colleagues around the office… but nothing big for now, thankfully.”

“oh, that’s amazing! which reminds me, this means you can actually join us on that weekend spa trip we were talking about last week,” chaeyoung happily suggests, as she’s already pulling up the website of the spa retreat.

“i guess a spa day would be nice,” you say, looking over at chaeyoung’s phone. you feel your body already going lax at the thought of a hot stone massage.

“oh, that would be so nice!” yunjin pouts. “we haven’t gone on a girls trip in so long! i miss going away, just the three of us… do you guys remember that trip we took to croatia two years ago? that was the best one we ever did, i swear!”

while chaeyoung joins yunjin in reminiscing about all the trips the three of you took over the years, you feel your phone buzzing in the pocket of your dress paints. pulling it out, you see an email notification…

“oh, no…” your voice trails off, reading over the email you had just received.

“what? what’s the matter?” yunjin asks, her conversation with chaeyoung coming to a halt.

“my boss just emailed me. he wants me in the office tomorrow morning. some big case that just came in,” you explain, already feeling a headache coming in.

“but tomorrow’s saturday,” chaeyoung frowns.

“i know… i know.”

when monday rolls around, seungcheol really wished that he had died before mingyu had found him the week before.

the day started normal enough. he woke up at 5 a.m. and took kkuma for a walk in the park near his apartment building, just like every morning. by 8 a.m., he was already set up in his studio inside the PLEDIS building, ready to work on the tracks he was supposed to finish mixing by the end of the week. seungcheol liked the buzz of the label, people from all different departments running around trying to stay on their schedules; it motivated him to also do his part diligently, and reminded him that he was extremely lucky to be doing one of the things he loves most: music.

seungcheol should’ve guessed something was up today the moment the clock struck 11 and jihoon, the other in-house producer of PLEDIS, and one of his oldest friends, hadn’t come by his studio. he and jihoon had known each other since their college days, having met in an audio engineering class they apparently shared, and had been friends for 8 years now. during their last year of college, they were recruited by a record label that was just starting out (which became the PLEDIS of today), and despite all warnings from their families, they decided to take a leap of faith together and join the company. it all worked out for the better, it turned out, as PLEDIS only grew and soon became a household name in the music industry.

as the only producers that have stuck around PLEDIS since the beginning, they developed several… traditions, or rituals over the years, one of which was jihoon’s 11 a.m. coffee run, which they’d spend sharing ideas and notes over each other’s work, and, if jihoon was in a particularly good mood, engage in some office gossip (not that either of them would ever admit it). today, however, jihoon is a no-show and seungcheol can’t help but wonder what his friend is up to.

when he shoots jihoon a quick text, asking if he’s alright, his friend only replies with a “just busy,” and tells seungcheol not to wait up for him at lunch, as he’ll probably be stuck in the studio all day. this doesn’t surprise him that much, seeing as jihoon might be an even bigger workaholic than he is, but he still can’t shake the feeling that something must be up with his friend. he decides that instead of going out for lunch, he’s gonna pick up some takeout and join jihoon in his studio. he wouldn’t be able to rest easy knowing his friend will go a day without eating anything.

once lunch hours begin, seungcheol takes a quick walk two blocks down the street to the restaurant mingyu works in, who’s already waiting for him with the food seungcheol had requested for him and jihoon. on his way back to PLEDIS, he texts jihoon again, just to make sure he’s still in the studio, but there’s no answer, and now seungcheol is seriously starting to get worried. he jogs the rest of the way until he’s back inside the building, and takes the elevator to the 6th floor where jihoon’s studio is stationed.

walking up to the door that reads UNIVERSE FACTORY, he stops in his tracks when he hears more than one voice from the other side of the door. he easily recognizes jihoon’s voice, but the other voices – two other men and a woman – are harder to make out. except… except the woman’s voice is eerily familiar, and without a second thought, seungcheol grips the handle and swings the door open, four pairs of eyes whipping in his direction.

his eyes land on jihoon, who looks like he wishes he was anywhere else in that moment, and then scan the rest of room, recognizing mr. han, their CEO, and… you. it’s you.

seungcheol feels like he’s going to faint. mr. han does not look the least bit happy about seungcheol’s intrusion, and he really wishes the man would slap him just so he can know for sure if he’s dreaming. if you’re surprised to see seungcheol, your face shows no sign of it, and seungcheol can’t help but stare at you. you look so beautiful, so put together; your make-up is soft, almost unnoticeable, your hair pushed behind your ears, and you’re wearing a dark green suit… oh, how he loved you in green.

you were the picture of grace and professionalism and he was… not. he really wishes he hadn’t come to the studio in sweatpants right now.

“mr. choi, what a… surprise,” mr. han exclaims, standing up from his seat, you and the other man – who seungcheol has no idea who he is, but he knows he doesn’t like the way he’s standing so close to you – following suit. “i didn’t know mr. lee was expecting you,” mr. han continues, glancing towards jihoon, who turned red as a tomato.

“i wasn’t, actually,” jihoon squeaks, avoiding both seungcheol and mr. han’s gazes.

“i apologize, i was… i was just bringing jihoon some lunch. i didn’t know there was… a meeting happening,” seungcheol says, looking towards you, and he’s almost thrown back by the way you’re just… staring directly at him.

mr. han sighs, but remembering the situation, he quickly puts on a polite smile as he turns towards you and the other man. “mr. choi is one of our other in-house producers. mr. choi, this is mr. jeon and miss L/N. they’re helping us with some… legal matters.”

so that’s why you were here. and who the other guy was. but what legal matters? and why was jihoon involved? and why didn’t he tell seungcheol?!

before seungcheol can ask more questions, mr. han gestures towards the door he came through and says “now, if you don’t mind, you can come back in a few minutes, mr. choi. we’ll be done soon.”

soon. soon, his ass!

seungcheol had been pacing the hallway outside jihoon’s studio for the past 20 minutes (he checked, he wasn’t exaggerating!), trying very hard not to eavesdrop through the door, and thinking of every possible reason why jihoon would need legal help and why you would be here.

jihoon was definitely in some kind of trouble. for the CEO to be involved as well, it for sure must be something that could affect the whole label. seungcheol just can’t understand why jihoon wouldn’t tell him if he had any kind of problem. they were colleagues, but most importantly, they were friends. he would’ve dropped everything to come to his aid.

now, when it comes to you… seungcheol knows you’re a lawyer, obviously he does. he met you when you were halfway through law school, and he was there for every failed and aced exam, for your graduation (he was so proud of you that day, it was the first time you’d ever seen him cry), for every measly job you had before finally securing the one you currently held at one of the top firms in the city. he also knows you’re a damn good lawyer, seeing how hard you work and how dedicated you are. he supposes it’s not surprising you were chosen to represent jihoon in whatever mess he got himself in.

he feels bad now that he remembers how he held these things above your head during your last fight. how you were working late so often, how you never asked him to join you at office parties, despite how eager you always were to go out with your coworkers for drinks, how you always asked him to wait for you outside the office building, as if you didn’t want people to know you had a partner...

he knows that both of you were to blame for how things went down between you, but since he started the argument in the first place, he thinks he could’ve brought all this up in a better way, at a better time.

his thoughts are interrupted when the door to jihoon’s studio opens again, and he finds himself regretting waiting in the hallway because now he has to face you again and he’s not ready and he doesn’t know what to say and he still looks like a hobo and –

“mr. choi!”

he looks up to see who he imagines is your colleague – mr. jeon – step towards him, as you and mr. han step out after him, discussing something. you glance once towards seungcheol before turning back to the conversation, and seungcheol feels his heart clench.

“mr. jeon, i’m sorry once again for interrupting your meeting,” seungcheol says, extending his hand to shake mr. jeon’s.

“don’t worry, no harm done at all. i’m actually glad you stuck around, because i had something to ask you. seeing as you and mr. lee are close, would you be available for a short talk with us, sometime in the next days? we’ll have to build a strong case for mr. lee and, well, some insight from his colleagues would be very helpful,” mr. jeon explains, fixing the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

seungcheol is taken aback by the man’s soft tone. his sharp eyes and cold look on his face made him look pretty intimidating, but his voice is the complete opposite, putting seungcheol weirdly at ease.

“o-of course, anything for jihoon,” seungcheol quickly replies. “can i ask, though, what exactly does he need help with?”

“plagiarism.”

“PLAGIARISM?!”

“you’re being sued. for plagiarism.”

“yes.”

“and you just found out last friday.”

“yes.”

“last friday when we all went out for barbeque and you didn’t even think to mention it? not even once?!”

“will you stop pacing and sit down? you’re making me even more nervous than i already am,” jihoon sighs, dropping his head in his hands.

seungcheol sighs as well, muttering a sorry, and sits down on the couch opposite jihoon’s chair.

jihoon continues. “i didn’t mention anything because i didn’t want to piss on everyone’s good mood. it was joshua’s birthday… besides, i didn’t know all the details of the situation at that point. i thought it was another baseless accusation, you know? but they’re serious about it. they wanna take me to court.”

“what? that’s insane,” seungcheol says. “i feel weird even asking, but did you even plagiarize?”

“no! of course not! i don’t even know the people!” jihoon exclaims, flopping down on the couch next to seungcheol. he lets out a long groan. “this is just what i needed.”

seungcheol pats his friend’s back, thinking of some encouraging words. jihoon was the most talented and creative guy he knew. to think that someone would accuse him of using somebody else’s work was a concept seungcheol couldn’t even entertain.

“don’t worry. that jeon guy looks like he’s already got a game plan.”

“and Y/N,” jihoon says.

silence falls around the two of them, until jihoon stirs from the couch, sitting up to look at seungcheol.

“are we just not going to acknowledge her or what?”

“no! that’s not what i…” seungcheol sighs, hanging his head. “i just wasn’t expecting to see her. i don’t know how to feel.”

“that’s understandable. you guys haven’t seen each other in a while, right?”

seungcheol shakes his head. “did she… did she say anything to you?”

“oh, no. she was super professional, went straight to business. but…” jihoon trails off, debating whether he should say what he was thinking.

“but? but what?!” seungcheol grabs jihoon’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

“but i think she was just as rattled to see you as you were. her hand kept shaking while she was writing, after you left. i guess she was just better at hiding her surprise,” jihoon continues. “now let go of me, you animal!”

seungcheol sighs. could it be that you were just as much of a mess inside as he was? the hopeful part of him thinks you might have thought of him all these months, just as he thought of you. the other part of him thinks your hand might as well just have been shaking from anger.

“you know, this might be a good thing,” jihoon says, getting up and sitting back in front of his computer.

“what, you getting sued and her being around?”

“yeah. maybe this way you’ll finally grow some balls, put your pride aside, and actually fix things,” jihoon deadpans, and seungcheol knows the conversation is over.

yeah. easier said than done.

#📁 lexie.works #🌙 midnights #seventeen #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #svt au #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff

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hannahlovesluca · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can I request Luxiem boys(separate) x reader who gets scared very easily and screams when scared? Play the don't scream game live on twitch?

(apologies for my bad English)

(inspired by kubz scout)

-🪻anon

hi 🪻 anon! welcome to the family!

Luxiem Boys + S/O playing “Don’t Scream”

• this motherfucker.

• he will laugh so hard if you scream, but if you’re getting like actually effected he’ll probably make you take a break <3

• probably makes a joke about how you need to go to ike for screamo lessons

• probably adds ike to the call solely because this man is petty as hell

• if you decide to go to the mini market in the game and you get the jump scare where the old man swipes across the screen, he’s most definitely making a lorax joke

• help ive never seen the lorax so i dont know if that context is correct but whatever

• “YOU MOTHERFUCKER JUST LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOONE!! AAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!”

• “HAHAHAGGAHAHAH”

• “DIN JÄVEL GÅ TILLBAKA HELVETET!! AGHHHH!!”

• translation: YOU FUCKER GO BACK TO HELL!

• lots of swears in swedish (from ike… and from me… sorry self insert….again………)

• he genuinely feels bad but also laughs sometimes

• he thinks youre adorable but he also finds it incredibly weird that he thinks someone being terrified for their life is cute…..

• “GÅ KNULLA DIG SJÄLV HAHAH YEAH DU HORA GÅ GRÅTA TILL MAMMA”

• translation: “GO FUCK YOURSELF HAHAH YEAH YOU WHORE GO CRY TO MOMMY”

• you probably end up saying something so bad that he goes limp from laughing and is in tears (literally, not exaggerating)

• and if you have trouble falling asleep that night he’ll make sure to run his hands through your hair and hum to you!

• hes such a dick

• BUT HE SHOULDNT EVEN BE SAYING ANYTHING BECAUSE??? HE GETS SCARED MORE EASILY THAN YOU???

• will literally whimper with you in discord call while youre playing.

• and still has the nerve to call you a baby

• sir?????

• du är en hycklare.

• anyway he most definitely teases you about it

• literally just call him out omg y/n

• ……but its kind of hot when he teases you so you let it happen

• anyway mid game you probably mute him because he’s screaming so loud LMAOO

• this mf is even worse than vox.

• laughing. LAUGHING. MANIACALLY.

• “HOW WAS THAT A SCREAM?! I DIDNT SCREAM OH MY FUCKING GOD!!”

• “HAHAGAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH”

• will be teasing you left and right

• “y/n…. whats kidamogus backwards…”

• “…luca..”

• “JUST ANSWER IT.”

• WILL SAY “LMAO” WHEN THERES A JUMPSCARE.

• his voice is more of a jumpscare than the game itself oh my lawd

• and um… if youre swedish…

• “AHHHHHHHH KNULLA HUR VAR DET ETT SKRIK? FÖR GUDS SKULL, DET HÄR SPELET KAN TA LIVET AV SIG.”

• anyways, if you’re seriously seriously scared to the point where you need comfort he is coming ASAP.

• and he brings snuggles <3

• is still teasing you, though

• he’ll giggle at you every now and then

• but overall he just thinks its cute and amusing

• and if you squeal out a curse his heart is just going to 💥💥💥

• i genuinely dont even know what else to add…. he just giggles at you a lot 😭😭

• will occasionally make a ligma joke if things are too quiet (almost the whole game since you have to be pretty much silent LMAOO)

• he’ll probably send messages in your chat even though hes in call with you

• Shu Yamino [NIJISANJI EN] 🔧: guys what do i do they’re so focused

#luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #luxiem #luxiem x reader #shu yamino #mysta rias #vox akuma #nijisanji en #luca kaneshiro x reader #ike eveland x reader #hannahlovesluca

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fakeuwus · 6 months

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RECKLESS | lee heeseung

now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ reckless by madison beer

"how could you be, so reckless with my heart?"

⁺ ⋆˚ genre: idol!hee x nonidol/university student!femreader, pure angst sorry lol, established relationship

⁺ ⋆˚ warnings: cursing, lowercase intended, barely proofread, mention of i-land LOL, lots of dialouge and idk if thats even a warning but had to put it out there, use of nicknames like babe/baby, infidelity

⁺ ⋆˚ word count: ~1k

⁺ ⋆˚ message from nic: wanted to put smth out while working on my jay fic!! got inspired by this show i was watching called "the game" (dont watch it its like highkey misogynistic and a bit racist and just overall so bad 😭) i wanted to rewatch it bc i used to watch it as a kid and now i realize how bad it was skdkd. but basically the bf is a pro football player while the gf is in med school and a certain plotline in the show inspired this 😁 also this is my first writing piece so pls be nice and feedback is appreciated!

heeseung slowly opened the front door to the apartment you and him shared, trying to be as quiet as possible since you were most likely sleeping. once he made it in he tip toe'd his way to your guys' bedroom. "did you have fun tonight hee?" you asked, while sitting on the couch with nothing but the lamp on. heeseung jumps, "holy shit you scared me! baby what are you doing up? come on let's get you to bed."

he walks over and tries to give you a kiss. you turned your head down only allowing him to press it to your forehead. you were pissed. actually, you were beyond that. words could not describe what you were even feeling at the moment.

you get up from the couch and stand before him, "you didn't answer my question. did you have fun tonight hee?" heeseung is perplexed by your tone. you sounded... hurt? angry? annoyed? all of the above? he tried to proceed with caution, racking his brain of all the possibilities of why you could be acting like this.

"uh... yeah babe, i had a lot of fun tonight. sorry i stayed out so late by the way. you really didn't have to wait up for me, you're probably tired." he was hopeful this was the right answer. it's gotta be, right? all you could do was stifle a cold laugh.

why the hell were you laughing? what was so funny? heeseung can feel his heartbeat in his ears and his skin was turning hot. you had never once acted this way in all of the years you guys had been together. it may not seem like a big deal to others, but you had always been so caring and sweet towards him.

even when you guys were arguing, your soft voice never changed. this was new. this was scary. you had a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes now and it seemed like you were staring into his soul.

"yeah heeseung. it's 2 am," you say sounding almost condescending, "but no i'm not mad that you stayed out so late. i mean i WAS, but after someone sent me a little something i realized there are worse things to be mad about." suddenly your phone is shoved into heeseung's hands. his jaw dropped. no. there's no way.

"who sent you this?! wait no it doesn't matter baby you can't believe this can you?" he reaches out for you but you pull away and start walking towards the front door to gather your jacket and bag, "so you're not even going to try to deny it? huh. i guess my friends were right." it makes him sick how you seem so calm on the outside, your words and actions treating this like one big joke while he's freaking out. he'd rather you be a crying, screaming mess than whatever behavior you're exhibiting at the moment.

you turn back around to him, "you think i don’t know who you’re giggling with on the phone while i’m sitting in the room studying for hours? that i’m stupid enough to believe that you’re not making out with her in that video? that i’m blind enough to not see the heart eyes you two make at each other while in the same room?” your words drip with venom and they shoot heeseung straight in the heart.

he feels like the room is spinning and he wants to faint. he wants to go up to you and hold you and tell you that she doesn’t matter, that you’re the only important thing in his life. but that’s not what happens. heeseung is too wrapped up in the moment to admit his wrongs.

frankly, he’s disgusted with himself and at a loss for words right now. he wants to convince not only you but more importantly to himself that he didn’t do anything wrong. and so he does. what comes out of his mouth next are words he’d soon regret. “WHAT DID YOU WANT ME TO DO YN?! i’ve been so lonely lately because you’re so wrapped up in school and she’s THERE FOR ME. she’s been there when you weren’t. i wouldn’t have made out with her if YOU were at the afterparty with ME like i asked you to! we won four fucking awards tonight and i just wanted my girlfriend there to celebrate with me.”

and just like that, you snap. the jacket and bag in your hands are now thrown to the ground and heeseung flinches. “YOU ARE SO FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE! do you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth right now?! i told you i have an exam tomorrow there was no way i was going to that damn party.”

tears are blurring your vision and your breath is becoming uneven. you don’t even recognize the man standing in front of you. “i have a life too heeseung. while you’re out chasing your dreams so am i. do you even acknowledge the sacrifices i have made for you over the past five years? tell me, was she there for you when you first became a trainee? was she crying for you every fucking episode of i-land? was she there every step of the way supporting your career?!"

heeseung doesn’t speak. he doesn’t move an inch yet his brain is moving a million miles per minute. he knows you’re right. he knows that you decline going out with your friends so you can wait for him to come home from practice. that your life only revolves around school and him. and he’s so eternally grateful for you. his heart yearns to express all the love he has for you and that he fucked up so badly. he just wants to fast forward to the part where you guys work through it and everything is okay again.

but that time is never going to come because you walk up to him with a heavy heart, placing the promise ring he gave you all those years ago in his hands.

he stares at the pretty diamond that shines in the moonlight, the only thing illuminating the darkness that’s consumed the space you both once filled with love. “i hope she was worth it,” you say as you open the door and walk out into the cold night. leaving heeseung and all of the memories of your relationship behind.

#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus #heeseung enhypen #enhypen fic #heeseung fic #heeseung angst #enhypen angst #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enha #fanfiction #fanfic

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thewinchestah · 2 months

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Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon

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angryschnauzer · 2 years

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By The Waning Crescent Moon

Summary: As an Omega you know you need to get home before your Heat starts, but when your car breaks down in the woods you need to seek refuge somewhere safe... surely a Convent will be the best place? Little do you know the nuns have long since left, only to be replaced by the worst possible thing; a pack of Werewolves. Even worse, its a full moon. Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie.

Wordcount: 4949

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Syverson x Omega Female reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Desecration of Religious artefacts, Knotting, Werewolf Sex, Monsterfucking, Unplanned Pregnancy, ABO Dynamics

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Henry Cavill Masterlist

A/N: This story has been stuck in WIP hell for a couple of months, i originally got psyched to write an entire werewolf gangbang, but then all the bullshit in the USA happened and yeah, forced pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s to do list, even in fanfic. Furthermore the wolf gang was originally going to be a biker gang, but another amazing writer @sillyrabbit81 has since launched a truly amazing biker gang reverse harem fic, i decided to shelve that idea and instead sit on the original thought of werewolves for a while. I then had inspiration to make this a Syverson story, so here we go. The Were sex scene is heavily inspired by the graveyard scene between Lucy and Dracula in Bram Stokers Dracula movie, which in my opinion is one of the greatest creature feature/monsterfucking movies in the history of cinema.

By the Waning Crescent Moon

You waited at the stop light, the remote intersection of two highways high up in the hills of logging country. It was dusk, yet the sky was hidden behind obsidian clouds, heavy rain systems waiting to release their downpours in sporadic outbursts. Despite the cold rain dulling the summer evening, you were burning up. You’d stopped at the last gas station and had stocked up on a huge slush drink and a popsicle, but neither had done anything to quell the growing warmth within your body. Sat in your flimsy sundress you were at least grateful that in a moment of optimism that morning you’d dressed for good weather, even if you’d spent the day wrapped in the cardigan you’d found on the back seat. However now as you felt a droplet of sweat make its way down your neck and cleavage, you cursed and opened the window, grateful for the cool damp air against your skin.

The red light finally changed and you muttered under your breath to yourself as you pushed your old Nissan into gear;

“C’mon, lets get home” you said to no-one except yourself.

The highway grew narrow as it entered the woods, just a single lane in each direction, tall cedar trees closing in on both sides. The rain wasn’t as heavy beneath the thick canopy above you, instead there were wisps of mist clinging to the roadway’s edge.

As you continued along you felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, a cramp that grew with intensity like an old lightbulb trying to illuminate but suddenly extinguishing.

“Oh fuck…” you cursed, resting your hand on your stomach as you rubbed to ease the ache. You drove on cautiously, ignoring the rattle that was emanating from the engine, your mind elsewhere. You had only finished your last period a little over a week ago so it wasn’t that. You could feel another cramp starting to build, your concentration far from the road. That was more than likely the reason you didn’t notice the pothole, the car shook and the suspension made a deafening thunk as you hit the flooded crater without pause. With a scream you pulled your full attention back to the road, ignoring the cramp pulling at your gut as you struggled to keep the car on the road, slowing gradually until you were able to pause. The sudden understanding hit your mind as the realisation of what was happening registered. You scrambled for your phone, opening the calendar and scrolling back to the cold winter months.

A cold chill ran down your back like icy fingers against your spine. Six months. Almost to the day. Six months since your last heat.

“Shit fuck FUCK” you shouted at the rain splattered windows. How could you have missed it? As another cramp hit your stomach you curled over and rested your head against the steering wheel, at which moment your phone chimed. Peering out of one eye you looked at the screen and the reminder that had just popped up;

*Heat starting soon!!!*

“Yes, THANK YOU. 24 hours too late”

As an unmated Omega you set yourself reminders for when your heat was due, coming every six months you generally made arrangements to work from home, and ensure you loaded your purse with suppressants and painkillers so to deal with the build up. It would seem this time however you hadn’t set the reminder early enough, as you had neither medication with you, but would also explain the hot sweats and the reason you’d woken up that morning tangled in the sheets after dreaming of faceless intimacy.

With a sigh you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, before peering out of the windshield at the dark and twisting road. Engaging first gear you set off but were immediately reminded that something terminal had happened when you’d hit the hole in the asphalt, your car now leaning on the kerbside. For a moment you considered calling for a tow truck, but then the rapidly failing rational side of your brain reminded you that the truck would likely be driven by a man, and the last thing you needed when you were about to come into heat was to risk being stuck with an Alpha you didn’t know. No, you needed to try and limp your car home, at least close enough to town that you could call your roommate to come help, she’d know exactly what to do. You made it a good couple of miles at a slow pace, the road straight and gently downhill, until a hairpin bend meant you had to sharply turn the wheel. Something loudly went ‘twang’ like a spring being violently recoiled. It was quickly followed by the sound of hissing air, and the car dropped even further on the kerbside. The tell-tale thud-thud-thud of a flat tyre could be heard as you freewheeled to the side of the road, before coming to a stop on the gravel side of the highway.

You took a deep breath and let out a scream, yelling at the windshield, before your stomach cramps hit back again. They were getting closer together and you knew you needed help. Checking your phone hopefully you were still disappointed when you saw that there was still no service, more than likely due to a combination of location and the bad weather. With a sigh you stared out of the windshield and you noticed a sign on a wall;

“The Sisters of St Augustus’ Refuge” you paused, the synapses in your brain firing and finally connecting; “A CONVENT! That’s just women!”

Climbing out of your car you grabbed your purse and cardigan, holding the latter over your head in a vain attempt to keep the worst of the rain off as you started to trot up the long driveway towards the building that loomed on the horizon. You failed to notice the other sign that lay on the ground, one put up by the real estate company handling the sale of the building but has since fallen.

The driveway was considerably longer than you anticipated, and by the time you were halfway your pace had slowed, your cramps now even worse. The large wooden doors of the convent came into view as you staggered closer, the rain and sweat mixing and running into your eyes, blurring your vision. You stumbled, your no longer white Converses catching on a pebble, righting yourself before you fell flat on your face. Another two steps and another pebble, you were falling when suddenly a pair of arms caught you, the dark robes fluttering in the storm as you blacked out.

Sy sat back in his chair, his boots resting on the large table as he picked at his nails with one long claw, being able to control the change to his advantage. Walter was pacing the room, pausing to glare at the clock on the wall before returning to pacing. Sy let out a small sigh, the entire pack was antsy, anxious and ready for the turn of the full moon, however this summer storm obscuring its silver rays was turning the pack into an angry mess. August had wisely disappeared into the depths of the building and Sy was thankful for that, he and Walter would always argue over the smallest thing. Sy also glanced at the clock, his stomach growling;

“Where is Mikey with that takeout?” he muttered to himself.

A sudden increase in background noise caused both Sy and Walter to pause and look up, their nostrils flaring. August entered the room from the door that led to the private quarters, just as the large double doors to the chapel opened. The two youngest members of the pack came bustling in, Will holding the doors open as Mikey staggered along, his long black duster raincoat still dripping with rain, a now soaked bag of takeout hanging from one hand, but what caught everyone’s attention was what else he was carrying; a young woman.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Mikey stood still, waiting to gauge the reaction from the rest of the pack;

“I…I found… she passed out on the doorstep…”

There was a pause before everyone sprang into life, the men helping Mikey carry the unconscious woman in, Walter lifting her and setting her down onto the makeshift workbench they’d commandeered when they’d moved into the old building.

Sy’s eyes widened before he cursed;

“Fuck…” he dragged his hand over his face before clearing his throat; “Aug, Walt, gotta talk. Will and Mike, make sure she’s ok”

August simply raised his left eyebrow before following, Walter trudging closely behind as Sy pushed the door partially closed behind them;

“Shit, this is the last thing we need, especially tonight…”

Walter nodded;

“I agree, whatever she’s doing here, we need to get her out of here before the storm passes”

August stood in the corner of the room, his silence eventually what drew the others attention;

“August, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet on this” Sy questioned

“Maybe she’s not an Omega?” he simply shrugged; “Could just be lost or her car broken down”

“Then why is she unconscious and reek of heat scent?…” he paused… “And why…”

Sy fell silent, all three elder members of the pack’s attention rising to the tall stained glass windows, the pale light from the full moon spilling into the dark room as the clouds started to part. A simultaneous chorus of ‘fuck’ sounded around the room, before they started to change, the moonlight triggering the lupine curse within them.

They grew broader, their shoulders filling out their shirts. Jaws clenched as canine teeth elongated. The flick of fire in their eyes started to burn as the silvery rays of moonlight spread throughout the room. At first they didn’t notice the wisp of orangey vapour that curled through the small gap in the door, but as it moved around the room like a lost serpent August was the first to notice;

“What the hell is that?”

Sy and Walter followed his gaze before noticing more tendrils of the vapour, watching as it sparkled gold and copper in the moonlight. Sy gritted his teeth and pushed back the urge to fully transform, the skill he’d accomplished once he became the full Alpha leader of the pack;

“Stay here” he all but growled, stalking towards the mist and out into the hall, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.

The young woman was awake, but was clinging to Will as she nuzzled against his neck. One of her hands curled through Mikey’s hair, pulling him to the other side of her neck. Wisps of orange vapour curled around them, seemingly emanating from her.

“BOYS!” Sy barked, both younger men trying to turn to the pack elder, but looked punch drunk.

“Uncle Sy…” Mikey muttered; “She’s… there’s something…”

Sy crossed the room lightning fast, pulling both younger men from her grasp before pushing them into a ray of moonlight as it spilt in through a side window, knowing that although the moon would turn them, it would also clear whatever was happening due to the vapour from their minds. August and Walter helped the two boys up, both elders now having almost completed their transformations, the younger turning as they stood. Sy gritted his teeth again and pushed back the urge to transform, knowing four, five full Were’s would destroy this young woman, and that someone needed to find out what the hell was happening;

“August, Walter, take Will and Mikey, go run, go hunt, anything, get all of you out of here”

The other’s paused, seemingly torn between the draw of the full moon and the pull of the young woman, but as Sy turned and growled, his eyes flashing golden they finally retreated.

Sy listened, his acute hearing picking up four sets of padded feet running across the gravel driveway and into the woods, before he turned to her;

“What the hell am i going to do with you?”

You sat on the hard surface, the blanket beneath you doing little to pad out the cold stone underneath as you watched the hulk of a man approach. You could immediately tell he was an Alpha, strong and virile, he was extremely broad with thick arms and thighs, he seemed to be 250lbs of solid muscle. Beneath the scowl on his face you could see stormy blue eyes that sometimes had a flash of gold in them, and hints of red in his thick beard. Your entire body was sweating, desperate for the touch of an Alpha. The two young Alpha’s you hadn’t been able to control yourself from scenting with had done a little to sate the heat hunger burning within you, but as this beast approached you your body burned for him.

Reaching for him your body immediately calmed the moment your hands grasped at his muscled forearms, breathing in his scent as he looked you over. When he spoke his voice was deep but soft;

“Miss, i gotta ask, but what are you?”

“Just an Omega… and i fucked up, my heat started…”

“Then why’d you come in here?”

“It said it was a convent… Nuns are women… i woulda been safe here…”

The man let out a long sigh;

“Oh honey… this wasn’t a convent of Nuns… it was a refuge for Moon Makers” he looked you up and down; “They shouldn’t have put ya on the altar…”

You were confused, you had heard the term Moon Maker before but it was so long ago you couldn’t recall exactly where. It was as if it had been a whisper you’d eavesdropped as a child, of something mothers and aunts had gossiped about with a sense of sordid envy.

Before you could dwell on that thought the storm outside blew wild, the crack of a tree could be heard and as it fell to the ground it let in a stream of moonlight right to where you lay. Bathed in the silver light the tendrils of orange mist started to swirl with vigour, and the Alpha before you let out a groan;

“Sugar, i gotta see the mark…”

He pushed you back as he stood between your legs, his large hands on your thighs as they crept beneath your short summer dress, pushing it up until your panties were visible and the fabric of your dress was bunched around your waist. His nostrils flared as he picked up your scent, the dark patch of wetness between your legs drawing him like a moth to the flame, but instead he hooked his thumb over the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down just a little until he saw your birthmark on your hip.

“The waning crescent…” he muttered

“What’s… huh? Moon Makers… Waning Crescent… I don’t understand” you were struggling to concentrate through the heat cramps, pulling the Alpha closer to you as you’d wrapped your legs around his thighs.

“Moon Makers are a special kind of Omega… the only one’s strong enough to bear the pups of a Were… the waning crescent is the shape of the birthmark they carry… shaped that way as if you breed on a full moon you’ll know if you’re carrying the pups by the time of the next waning crescent… It’s old lore, there hasn’t been a sighting of a Moon Maker for, well, almost twenty five years…”

You pulled him close, not even knowing this beast’s name, but were drawn to him. You hooked your nose beneath his chin, his soft beard rubbing against your face and you could feel him shake with restraint;

“You’re testing big Sy to the limits Sugar…”

“Sy…” you muttered, his name like a syrup on your tongue; “Sy… i’m still an Omega, and i need your help. This heat isn’t going away… i need you, as an Alpha”

Nodding, Sy cradled the back of your head. He knew what he needed to do. He just needed to get you through your heat, long enough to get you back to your home. He also had a secret, one that he’d brushed over many times when his brothers had joked about it, but an injury when he’d been in the army had meant he could no longer sire any pups with an Omega. It was something he and only he knew about, not even confessing this to Walter or August, and it had been safe in that knowledge that he’d been able to concentrate on leading the pack, without the distraction of offspring. Countless Omega’s had warmed his bed, but he’d insisted it was never the right time, not on a full moon, not the right point in their heat. Right now though, he needed to fight off his hind-brain, the part of him that wanted the Were to take over. He didn’t even consider things would be different with a Moon Maker.

He pressed his face to your neck, inhaling deeply against your scent gland, the soft dip in your clavicle, and let your scent wash over him. You were grinding against him, the slick in your panties dousing the front of his old combat pants, the thick cotton straining against his growing erection. His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke;

“Will you let me taste you? Get you ready with my tongue? Sugar… Omega, you want me to eat that pussy?”

“Sy… Alpha, please… I need it. I need you”

You were desperate; desperate for relief, desperate for pleasure. You watched as his massive hands curled around your panties as he gripped the thin cotton before with a low growl he tore the thin fabric to shreds. Licking his lips he fell to his knees between your legs, his face between your thighs as his tongue found heaven. That long thick tongue dove through your folds, lapping at your slick as he eagerly tasted your essence. Your hands fell to his head, the short buzz cut soft beneath your fingertips, but without anything to grip onto you felt lost, unable to anchor yourself. As if sensing your need Sy lifted one hand to yours, curling his fingers between your own as his piercing blue eyes never left yours, all whilst his tongue delved deep into your velvet channel. The more you cried out and wriggled the quicker he fucked you with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to pleasure before with a final wide swipe of his tongue you came with a scream, calling out to the stars above as white hot pleasure coursed through your body and lifted your soul. Sy eagerly drank down your slick as it gushed from your channel, growling at the taste on his tongue before you finally fell back limp on the altar.

He pressed a kiss to each of your inner thighs before he moved to stand, and you watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before unbuckling his pants and let them drop to the floor. Toeing off his boots he was standing naked before you, his cock hard and rigid, thick and uncut, the knot at the base already starting to swell. You had been with an Alpha before but never one as big as Sy was, he was almost grotesquely huge, his girth as eye watering as the length. It was an angry red, his skin flushed and he was already dripping with need;

“Omega, I need you as much as you need me, you gonna let me fill that pussy?”

You nodded, and as Sy stepped forwards you saw there was hesitation in his step;

“Sy… what is it?”

“You ever been with a Were Alpha before?”

“A Were?” you shook your head; “But i want to. I need you Sy…”

“Not sure how much longer i can hold back the change, gonna have to be quick”

“I don’t want it to be quick, i want you… all of you”

What you were agreeing to was unheard of usually, very few had ever been with a full Were, let alone a Were Alpha, you knew the pheromones could drive an Omega crazy; “Do what you need to do Alpha”

With a growl Sy pushed you back, his body covering your own as his hands grasped your wrists;

“Hold still Sugar… need to tie you down so you don’t go flying off the altar”

“Altar?! Tie me down?!”

Sy paused, his face inches from your own;

“Say so now and i’ll stop, otherwise you’ll get as you asked and i will ‘do as i need’”

Swallowing nervously you nodded, wide eyed as you watched him pull ceremonial silk ropes from two corners of the altar beneath the blanket, tying your wrists in place. You could see his fight against the change was already starting to wane, his eyes burning like fire as his elongated fingers ran down your torso before grasping at your hips. He knelt between your parted thighs, pulling you up his thighs until his tip was poised at your entrance, dousing the bulbous head with your copious slick. With a growl he pushed forwards, stretching your tight walls as he slowly filled you. The pressure in your belly was intense, a white hot heat surging through your body as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. With your back arched you struggled to let your body adjust to his size, but then you felt the rough brush of the blunt tip of a claw circle your clit, carefully teasing the sensitive pearl from beneath its hood. As the moonlight poured down over your joined bodies you felt Sy start to change, of the Were taking over.

You moved your hips, realising you were now completely stuffed with his thick cock and eager for more, opening your eyes you let out a gasp, he had changed fully. Covered in a thick layer of auburn brown fur, his body was that of a Greek mythical beast. Though his features had changed, you could still see the same eyes that had burned for you just moments before. Shoulders as wide as the altar you were being defiled upon, which continued into enormous arms, thick with muscle as massive hands gripped at your hips as he started to thrust into you. You could both watch as he filled you before pulling out and repeating, his angry red shaft glistening in the moonlight with your slick before he’d plunge deep into you again and again. Each thrust stretched you so well you knew you’d be ruined for any other man, Alpha or not.

The pleasure coursed through your body, coming with a sudden force but the Were between your thighs just fucked you straight through it, now Moon drunk and high on the literal cloud of your scent surrounding the pair of you as you were carnally joined. With his biceps and forearms bulging the beast pulled you onto his thickening shaft repeatedly, his body arched as you were stretched on your tethers, legs bent at his thighs as you felt another orgasm chasing after the last. As your body squeezed him tight he let out a mighty roar, howling at the moon as you all but pushed yourself further onto him, your fragile body a plaything for his pleasure. Through the haze of lust and sin you felt the pad of his thumb move from your hip to brush over your birthmark, your gaze immediately drawn to his fiery eyes and you realised what would happen;

“Alpha, give me your knot, i’m ready”

With a growl the Were fucked into your plyable body harder and harder, pulling you to one final orgasm, and as that crested you felt the push and plug as he filled you, his seed pumping into you as his knot plugged you tight. Your scream echoed around the ancient chapel, and the world turned black.

A loud knocking at the door pulled Tina from her bed, glaring at the apartment as she strode through it, ready to give whoever dared disturb her at this ungodly hour of the morning a piece of her mind, but as she violently opened the door she was stopped in her tracks. In the morning light a hulk of a man stood on the doormat with you - her roommate - sleeping peacefully in his arms;

“Hey… I got her address from her driving licence”

Tina immediately scooped you into her arms, carrying you to the couch;

“Where has she been? Who are you?”

“Syverson… Her car broke down outside our place in the hills. She stayed out the storm with us but was up all night, she’s completely exhausted now”

Tina checked over your pulse and it was calm and steady, pulling at your eyelids which caused you to grumble and bat away her hands before you went back to snoring on the soft couch. Turning back to the giant Alpha currently standing in your doorway she held out her hand, to which Sy gently took it, surprised at how firm her handshake was;

“One of my brothers will bring her car back in the next couple of days if that’s alright? Got a lot on for the next two days”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but if i can take your number so i can check in, i know she drives a heap of crap but it’s still hers”

“Absolutely”

Tina watched as the enormous mountain of man carefully bent down and in neat cursive writing wrote his name and number onto the small notepad on the hallway console table, before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I’ll… i’ll be going now”

Tina narrowed her gaze;

“You… you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Sy turned and met Tina’s glare;

“She spent the night” he turned and paused; “You might want to check her calendar, mentioned her heat is due soon” he let out a sigh before turning back to the doorstep; “Anyway, gotta go, the moon waits for no man…”

Tina watched him go, toying with the piece of paper as his truck pulled away, before she stashed it in her wallet.

A couple of weeks later you were irritable and snapping at anyone that crossed your path. The only thing that had gone right was your car had been returned to your apartment three days after your night in the hills, the suspension fixed, the engine running beautifully. It was like it’d had a complete overhaul by an entire team of mechanics. You weren’t going to question it as it was the one stable thing now in your life. The young guy that had dropped it off had practically thrown your keys into your hands, before sprinting off and climbing into a truck driven by someone that looked so similar he could have been a brother. You vaguely recognised them, but your only clear lingering memory of your time in the hills was Sy. You weren’t even sure how to even find him again, having taken drives through the forest a number of times but never able to find that same route again.

That night you were hungry, pulling a pint of your favourite ice cream from the deep freeze. You stepped outside into the warm summer night to eat it on the pallet wood seating Tina had built on the porch outside your apartment, watching the fireflies float into the air. After a while she joined you, a beer in her hand as she sat down silently. She was your best friend and had helped you through so much, but she’d been very quiet for the past couple of weeks, almost avoiding you.

“Hey Tiny” you used her nickname, one she’d very much grown out of after 5th grade when she’d grown a foot taller than you in the space of the summer break; “Everything ok?”

“Yeah yeah, i’m good… how are you doing? You’ve been… different recently”

You stabbed at the ice cream before setting it aside;

“Haven’t felt that great to be honest. Not sure what’s up, thought my heat was coming a few weeks ago but it seemed to end abruptly after i got back from…”

“Gotcha”

Tina looked up at the sky and you followed her gaze, seeing the thin crescent of the moon;

“Looks kinda like your birthmark, the waning moon…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as you’d suddenly bolted to the bathroom, your retching clearly audible. With a sigh she rested her elbows on her knees… fuck, what the hell had you gotten yourself into? She’d been able to tell that Syverson was a Were the second she’d opened the door, counting the days back on her fingers she finally realised that you’d been with him the first night of the full moon, when its at its most powerful, and how your heat hadn’t appeared, yet she’d been able to pick up your bonding scent as you’d slept on the couch.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered to herself, the piece of paper in her wallet almost burning a hole in her pocket. She had sworn to your mother that she’d protect you, that she wouldn’t let you continue the Were bloodlines… but she’d failed. Now she had a decision to make… but first she’d go help you throw up, no doubt there would be another eight months of it to follow, the child within you already growing.

Pulling the paper out she held it between her fingertips as she stood, heading towards the bathroom where you were, you had a phone call make.

#syverson x you #captain sy x reader #werewolf sy #alpha sy #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #captain syverson smut #Alpha sy x omega reader

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

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Steve, Eddie, and Billy's reaction to their boyfriend coming home beat up for being queer and acting like nothing happened, trying to hide that he's tearing up

Steve and Eddie Reacting to Their Boyfriend Getting Beat Up

TRIGGER WARNING: The reason for Reader being beat up is due to homophobia, but the scene of people being homophobic to Reader isn’t shown.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Steve is already a mother hen (he has babysit around 6 kids, after-all) but he is mother hen x2 when it comes to you. The moment he sees you, bruised and crying, he nearly trips over his own two feet running over. He’ll bombard you with questions which kind of makes it worse because the last thing you want to do is discuss it, but then it will click. He’ll usher you over to the couch and check that you’re alright before going to get the first aid kit. On the inside, he’s almost about to explode with his worries.

While he takes care of your injuries, he tries extra hard to be mindful and gentle. Steve doesn’t say much, even though he desperately wants to, and tries to let you talk when you’re ready. But once he sees that your injuries aren’t too serious, he begins to wonder how the hell this had happened. The kids around Hawkins biked a lot, maybe there was some accident? But as he begins to focus, he realizes that these bruises look like hand-prints. He’s nauseous.

It takes all his self control not to burst and Steve grits his teeth as he continues to take care of your injuries. Meanwhile, you’re almost numb. You let Steve do what he needs to do and, when he seems to finish, start to speak up by mumbling the reason for what happened.

Once Steve hears, he freezes, but recovers quickly. It’s difficult for him to hear this and to not react angrily, although on the inside he wants to ask their names and go give them a piece of his mind. But, as always, you’re more important to him. So he wraps you in a hug and assures you that they’re dumb and stupid and that you didn’t deserve what they did to you. He sits with you on the couch, letting you lean on him for as long as you need, either until you fall asleep or until you want to do something else. Either watching the T.V, listening to music, etc.

EDDIE MUNSON

As you walk to Eddie’s trailer, the first thing you think of is how he’ll react. You have to admit that you’re a little worried, because he is impulsive, but you take a deep breath and trust in him. When you do reach the trailer, Eddie nearly falls off his seat when he sees you. “Did you get in a fight with one of those idiots from school?” He’ll ask, shaking his head and going to get some bandaids and a damp cloth.

“Something like that,” you answer, devoid of the usual humor that you and Eddie share. It’s then that he realizes the seriousness of the situation and furrows his eyebrows.

He asks you what you mean, motioning for you to sit down while he starts patching bandaids onto you. He is worried, but not worried beyond belief, because he knows that if you made it to his trailer, you’ll have to be alright in the end. It takes you a couple minutes to answer without getting upset and when you do, Eddie’s blood boils. He finishes patching you up and steam is practically coming out of his ears at this point.

Eddie asks who did this and where they are, all the while cursing them too, and you take a breath. You’re not exactly surprised, you knew this would happen, but at least he’s not running out the door. You are pretty pissed too, though, so you gladly give him the names. Eddie nods and makes a plan, but decides to put his plan in motion later, because he wants to comfort you.

You spend the rest of the night cuddling and, the next day, you find the homophobic guys’ have their bikes destroyed and it looks like they took a punch to the face. You know it was Eddie and you’re not mad, because they deserved it. Later, you thank Eddie, but ask if you can have in on the revenge if there’s another time. I mean, you do throw a good punch.

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sadhours · 1 year

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Please god picture this:

Billy pinning Steve up against the cold tiled shower wall in the high school. He's fed up with the mind games, the pecocking, the teasing. Steve, intimidated but not standing down, rolls his eyes and struggles underneath Billy's mean smirk and intense stare. He mutters out a "Fucks sake Hargrove, get off me".. Billy, voice laced with need, replies "Make me."

Thank you for this request. I’ve been wanting to delve into Harringrove but haven’t really been super confident. I hope you like this, I had a fucking field day writing it. I love these two.

warnings; 18+ minors dni, all smut baby, Steve is having bi-panic

Steve used to like basketball. Back when it was actually fun and not a goddamn pissing contest with the new blonde asshole from California. Practice went from a nice way to blow off steam and hangout with people he’d known forever without pressure. Then Billy joined the team and every fucking practice felt like a battle. Steve couldn’t pinpoint why he was so dead set on one-uping him but fuck, was it exhausting. The thing was, Steve thought he didn’t care about the status bullshit anymore. Then when it all fell apart with Nancy, he felt himself getting wrapped back up in it due to the distraction it supplied. Or maybe it was the way Billy was so pushy about it, like because it mattered to him, it should matter to Steve.

Today’s practice was particularly brutal. Billy was making illegal moves left and right but Coach didn’t call it out a single fucking time, like he thought letting Billy play dirty would inspire Steve to play better. The motherfucker talked so much. That was the worst part, he’d hog the ball up and down the court, spouting goddamn monologues at Steve. It was clear from the taunting look in his bright blue eyes that he got something from taunting Steve, whatever the hell it was is a mystery but it got under Steve’s skin.

The night he’d been told Nancy skipped school with Jonathan, Steve tried to jerk off before bed and got sick when he’d thought about her. Then something fucking weird happened and he thought about the shit Billy had said to him on the court and in the shower. It didn’t make him go soft in his hand like he’d expected and he shamefully stroked his dick, imagining Billy criticizing how he was jerking himself off. When he’d spilled spunk all over his hand and stomach, he felt so incredibly embarrassed that he did so while thinking of Billy Hargrove of all people. Steve thought about it the next day when he’d seen Billy and his whole body went white hot with shame and unfortunately, arousal.

Steve tries not to think of it as he showers now. How the fuck he ended up alone in the locker room with Hargrove was a mystery to him. They both took too long shit talking after Coach excused them all. Steve curses himself about it, knowing no one sticks around for long and Coach leaves as soon as he excuses them. Feeling uneasy around Hargrove wasn’t new but it was made ten times worse by the fact that he’d become Steve’s jack off material.

They’re showering. Right next to each other. There’s at least 20 other nozzles Billy could have chosen but no, he picks the one directly to Steve’s left. They’re lathering up, silent and fuck, it’s awkward. Steve won’t let his eyes wander, he’d already done so before so he knows what Billy’s working with but if he does it now, he risks popping a boner and Billy might actually beat his face in if that happens.

“You really play like shit, Harrington,” Billy says, eyes rolling over to Steve.

“Do you ever fucking shut up?”

Hargrove snorts, reaching out to shut Steve’s steam off, “Do you ever make shots?”

Steve turns the faucet back on, “When you’re not breathing down my fucking neck.”

“Did you guys even win a single game before I showed up?”

Steve thinks back, of course they did but to be fair, they’d been winning way more in the short month Billy’s been on the team. He can’t inflate this fuckers ego even more, though.

“Yeah,” he settles on, rinsing his hair out and turning off the flow of water.

“Bullshit,” Billy scoffs.

Steve turns to him finally, telling himself that when Billy’s eyes lower that he’s definitely not looking at his cock. There’s no way.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Hargrove frowns, “To make yourself feel better.”

“It’s high school basketball, I don’t really give a shit.”

“Easy for you to say, pretty boy. Daddy’s gonna make sure you get into college no matter what,” Billy retorts, shutting off his shower.

Steve rolls his eyes, “You’ve got no fucking clue.”

It happens quick, Hargrove’s grabbing his wrists and walks him back against the wall. The tiles are cold as Steve’s back is pressed against them. Billy’s palm presses against Steve’s chest and he shoves him harder against the wall. His skin feels hot against Steve’s. He can’t get a boner from this. He can’t. Grandma’s face, dead puppies, every trick in the book to keep his dick from stirring.

“For fucks sake, Hargrove,” Steve seethes, “Get the fuck off me!”

Billy licks his lower lip, smirk spreading against his face as he says, desperate, “Make me, Steve.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called him by his first name and Steve can’t help the way his dick fills out from it, he stares up at Billy with big, brown wide eyes. They hold onto the stare, each of them panting but Billy’s the first to break it, glancing between their bodies and Steve can’t help but follow. They’re both achingly hard, tips red and leaking an absurd amount.

“Knew it,” Billy mutters before he’s crashing his mouth agains Steve’s, teeth clacking before they both roll their tongues out to taste the other.

His words taint Steve’s mind. What the hell did he mean? Did he know Steve’s been jerking off to thought of him? Was Steve being obvious? He thinks about it too hard apparently because Billy pulls away from the kiss.

“It’s okay, ya know,” he mumbles to which the brunette nods, it feels too good for it to be wrong.

“Okay,” Steve chokes out, wrapping his fingers around the back of Billy’s neck and pulls him back so he can lick into his mouth. Fuck expectations, fuck shame, Billy tastes too good and Steve’s dick wants this more than anything to stop. He’s pushing his body against Steve’s, their cocks rub against each other and it pulls a groan from him, Billy swallowing it while he grinds against Steve. Now he’s glad everyone left before them.

Hargrove is a talker so it shouldn’t surprise Steve when he pulls back, “You been wanting this, Harrington?”

But Steve isn’t easy so he grunts, “Shut up.”

The laugh that erupts from the blonde boy is cruel yet so god damn sexy that Steve grabs Billy’s hips and pulls him closer. It’s eager on Steve’s part but he can’t find it in him to care. Billy’s right, he’s been wanting this and he’s gonna let himself indulge in it.

Billy’s hands grab their cocks, loosely stroking them in his grip while he groans into Steve’s mouth. He’s never felt anything like it. He panics momentarily because shit, this is gay but Hargrove is pretty almost like a girl so is it that gay? He doesn’t have time to really think much about it because Billy’s dropping to his knees but grips Steve’s cock at the base and squeezes.

“Oh, shit,” Steve exhales, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Billy Hargrove is gonna suck his dick. He almost can’t believe it’s happening so he doesn’t dare look away. He’s waiting for the sound of his alarm to go off, this has to be a fucking wet dream. Billy’s lips are so red and swollen from the kissing and fuck, Steve’s worried he’s gonna blow his load the second Billy wraps his lips around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he says in disbelief as it happens. He doesn’t ruin it by coming immediately but his hips jerk and he shoves himself down Billy’s throat with the motion and Steve’s confronted with the fact that Billy’s done this before because he doesn’t choke or gag, instead he sucks, hard. His blue eyes intense as he stares back up at Steve. “Dear fucking lord,” he curses, clenching his fists where he holds them against the tile.

He sees Hargrove’s lips curl up with the hint of smile and he’s annoyed slightly. He just knows this is making Billy just that much more full of himself. It’s barely began but it’s the top tier of blow jobs, the best Steve’s ever had. The way Hargrove swallows around his cock which feels so fucking incredible, he’s whining because of it. He wonders what Billy’s thinking. Obviously, he likes Steve in some kind of way to even wanna get his cock in his mouth. But Steve wonders if the pretty boy bullshit was because Billy legitimately thinks he’s pretty. No time to really stew on it though because Billy cradles his balls in his hand while he bobs up and down on Steve’s pulsing length, sucking his cheeks in whenever he descends. He looks downright ethereal, pink lips, flushed cheeks and glassy blue eyes. Fuck, Billy’s gorgeous. He’s floored by it, moving his hands into the damp curls at the crown of Billy’s head.

“Fuck,” he drawls, “You’re so pretty.”

Billy pulls off of him with a pop, “You’re the pretty one, pretty boy.”

Steve fucking whimpers, it’s pathetic but god damn, the name has taken on a whole new meaning for him. Billy’s wanted him. This whole time.

He curls his tongue around his tip and Steve can’t tear his eyes away, jaw open while pants fall out. It’s never been like this. When Steve’s with girls, there’s a goal in mind, he’s focused on getting off but now, he wants this to last forever and somehow he’s able to hold off on his orgasm, though Billy’s blowing him better than any girl ever has. Then he’s moving away, to lick at Steve’s balls and seriously, he’s in fucking heaven. Girls ignore his sack.

“Jesus,” he breathes, watching in awe while the blonde strokes him slowly, thumb padding against his slit.

Steve’s flooded with the promise of his orgasm, Billy mouthing at his sack while he pulls on his cock.

“Shit,” he curses out, voice wrecked, “Gonna cum.”

Billy moves to wrap his lips around his head and sinks down, swallowing his length and Steve busts, shooting cum down Billy’s throat. He can feel Billy gulp it down which only pulls more from him. He looks obscene as he sits back, lips puffy and pupils blown.

Steve pants against the wall as he stares down at him. He’s a little perturbed as he realizes he wants to get his lips around Hargrove’s cock because in all his times of jacking off with Billy at the forefront of his mind, he was never pleasing the blond. But he wants to now. Wants to see if he’s up to the job.

“Your turn?” Steve proposes, a little shy.

Billy chuckles, standing up and grabbing a hold of Steve’s anxious fingers.

“Don’t know if you’re experienced enough to handle it, pretty boy.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit close, Billy might be right. He’s never had a cock in his mouth but he thinks he’s a quick leaner.

“I can try,” he mumbles but Billy just pats his cheek.

“Next time,” he whispers before making his way toward his locker.

Next time, Steve hangs on the words.

#harringrove #harringrove smut #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fic #request #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve Harrington

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thebigoblin · 2 months

Text

On The Dance Floor

tags: Not Scott McCall Friendly, Inspired by a Song, Oneshot, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Getting Together, The Hale Pack 2.0, Fluff, Minor Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall

a/n: found this in my drafts tagged as "complete." figured i'll post this as a lil weekend treat <3 so cleaned it up a bit. i'll post this on ao3 tomorrow ig. also, real enemy is giving fics a fucking title.

now you can also read this fic on ao3.

White, marble tiles are eaten up by his black, formal shoes, his movements a little hurried as he veers off another corner of this event hall, almost braining himself against the wall. He stops just at the right moment, curses his clumsiness, and continues walking down the empty hallway to the dressing room. Everyone else is already in the main hall, sitting on the chairs, and Stiles Stilinski was there only moments before, so he knows they're waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Except, his dad is getting cold-feet, and despite Scott's attempts at being normal around his soon-to-be stepfather, and being a shoulder to lean on, the cold-feet is getting worse. At least, that's what Derek texted him, a short, concise depiction of whatever the hell must be happening in the dressing room.

And he trusts the Alpha, so he's quick in his steps and quicker with his breaths when he does open up the door and finds his dad pacing around the decently-sized room, his suit on, and complemented by a look of absolute panic on his face.

Scott is standing off to the side, like he always seems to be these days, and he's on the opposite side of Derek, far from him, like he always was and always will be. Some people don't change, and Stiles has learned that through experience he would rather not repeat.

"Dad," Stiles says, and that's all it takes for the dam to break. His dad gives a quick glance to Scott, his once-favorite son, and then pulls both Stiles and Derek towards him, his hands a little sweaty with dread. His dad knows being close and talking low wouldn't make a difference, but it's the principle of the thing, and for one split second he wonders what 16 year old him would have thought of this fact, of Derek being his dad's chosen son, and him himself being this close to his dad. And Scott not even being privy to the beauty of this relationship.

"What if she doesn't want me to? I love Melissa, I do, but Claudia- I don't know. I had a dream yesterday, Stiles, and she was just, she was just there! Just sitting on the beach, where I proposed to Melissa, right where Melissa was sitting. Was that, like, one of your supernatural dreams? Derek, you must know something about these sort of things. I don't think she wants me to—"

Derek cuts him off with a firm, "She wants nothing but happiness for you." He gives Stiles a quick look, asking silently if this is okay, because out of the four people in this room he's the only who didn't actually know her when she was alive. Stiles nods, and Derek continues, and his dad hangs onto every word out of Derek's mouth. "Today is a big day for you, and you're nervous, and it's okay, John. That dream was just a way for your subconscious to show up — this isn't the first time you've had this thought, have you?"

"No."

"That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just your nerves."

Stiles smiles softly at his dad. "Mom loves you," he moves forward to bring his dad in for a patented Stilinski hug. His voice is muffled when he insists, "She loved you when she was beside you, and she loves you now that she's watching over you. And she loves Melissa, too. I know she'll be the one smiling the biggest when you say 'I Do,' today."

His dad holds on for a little longer, and Stiles knows he's holding back tears when his dad says, "Okay," with a rough voice. He pulls back, takes a deep breath, pats Stiles on the shoulder twice, the way he always does, and gives a wobbly smile to Derek. He says, "Thanks, son," to both of them before looking at himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing."

"I'm so glad Lydia's mom was able to modify your original suit into this," Stiles adds to Derek's compliment, and Derek nods, repeats the sentiment of his dad looking amazing.

Scott chimes in, too, and his dad gives him a small smile. The relationship with him is strained, and if it was any other day Scott wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, but it's his mom's wedding day, too. Stiles allows this one day, and if he didn't, he can't really stop Scott from being here. This is his hometown, too. They have their differences, yes, but they also have a past, together and also not, stemming from this same town.

Stiles has no right to where Scott does or does not go.

Derek, on the flip side, with his red eyes and ancestral blood running through his veins, roots sprouting from this town's soil, has no such qualms. Derek and Scott share a past, too, and it defines their present more than anything else could have.

Stiles' dad says he'll be out in just a minute, can they wait outside please, and all three of them step out. Once the door is closed, Derek turns to Scott.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott is instantly angry. He has always hated Derek, no matter the truth. Logic was always Stiles' friend first and Scott's second, and without Stiles, Scott is just a ball of emotions being hit by the bat of daddy and authoritative issues.

Derek has a right to know. It is his prerogative. This is his land, his territory, his packmate's wedding. Scott was banished — run off, really, and now he's back. Derek has a right to know when he'll leave, irrespective of Scott's hesitation to tell him.

But, the years have done Scott good. Instead of yelling, making a scene, he takes a breath in. Stiles wonders what or who his anchor is, and promptly decides it's not something he cares to know. He watches Scott get himself under control, enough that when he speaks his voice is almost emotionless.

All or nothing. That was what Scott was, and still is. He's changed, but not really.

"Mom leaves for her honeymoon tomorrow, and I need to take stuff from home."

Derek raises his right eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

Scott gives a tight smile. "It is if you just learn to stop when you should."

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is taking the two steps to stand right beside his Alpha, disbelief coloring his face and words as he lets out, "Are you seriously threatening him?"

Scott just looks at him. The look is unreadable. It hurts, this distance between them, when Stiles remembers fantasizing about being not two feet apart on a porch in their late, late years, drinking to the years and cheers they must have had in their shared lives. Derek shakes him out of that thought with a gentle touch to his hand, their arms trapped between their bodies, and he relaxes.

Derek looks at Scott. His eyes turn red, brilliant red, and he orders, "Leave by Wednesday afternoon."

Today is Sunday.

And his dad's wedding day. His dad, who chooses this moment to come out, looking much better, and happier, and assured. He looks at the scene in front of him, the three of them, Scott on one side, alone. Him and Derek, side by side, on the opposite side of Scott.

He claps his hands.

"Who is ready to cry today?"

They all cry.

The ceremony is simple, but beautiful. The whole town is here, the wedding off their Sheriff, and the nurse who is so lovely, so kind. They are an inspiration, they all murmur, Derek tells him; second chances at love are rare, and this is beautiful, and who knew there exists beauty in the depths of tragedy?

His dad cries when he watches Melissa come down the aisle, Ms. Martin on one side and Scott on the other. Her best friend and her son, and for once, Stiles doesn't mind Scott's presence.

Melissa is smiling, eye to eye, her wedding gown fitting her perfectly.

She stands in front of his dad and says, "Oh, John," with such reverence, it's hard to not cry. Stiles has to put his hand in front of his mouth, but it's futile. Derek, the jerk, repeats those words, the ones he is hearing from every corner of the hall, and by the time Stiles has a dad and a stepmom officially, he's crying happy tears.

Lydia hugs him and tells him now it's his turn to find her mom somebody, too, and he agrees, only half-listening to her. He's staring at the big, gigantic grin on his dad's face, a matching one on Melissa.

Everyone congratulates him and the newlyweds, and then it's food and chatter and toasts, and everyone is surprised when Derek gives the first toast instead of Stiles, and Scott is supposedly not giving one at all.

Derek's toast is short, but no less lovely. He calls John a great man, one with utmost patience, and of course Derek would find a way to make a dig at Stiles; he says he has no clue how John and Claudia had strength enough to be patient with Stiles around, and that perhaps it is that tenacity, that will, that has brought about the proceedings of today. Of not giving up, even when the world is stacked against you. Of staying strong, in the face of everything falling apart. Of falling apart but coming back stronger, steadier. Of finding love after all of that. And coming from Derek, of all people, it means a whole lot, and Stiles' dad hugs Derek post-speech tightly.

When they pull apart, Derek says into the mic, but with eyes on Stiles' dad, "She's just as proud of you as Stiles is. As I am."

And then it's his turn to give a toast, and he's not sure how he can outdo Derek; as he stands up in front of the mic, he realizes he doesn't want to.

He gives a few funny anecdotes of his childhood, of how his dad taught him to always have hope, because good people get good things, even if it takes long. And how Melissa was always there, a second mom to him right from the start, and how much he loves her and is glad she's still in his life, despite the years, despite the circumstances. The crowd gets intrigued at that, aware of the distance between Scott and his mom, and Stiles too; all of Beacon Hills knows about the rift, but only a hand few know the cause of it as well. So, for him to mention the distance, to publicly acknowledge it, is a big thing.

He moves right the fuck on, makes jokes and smiles and cries, admits he'll always miss his mom, but that he'd always hoped, deep in his heart, that when the grief becomes tolerable he'd be the one to make the two of them marry each other.

"You got there first," he jokes, "Had the ring all picked out even before I could start trying to convince you to ask her out. Honestly, that might have been the second best decision you've ever made." None of them have to ask what the first was. It's obvious; Stiles knows his mom's wedding ring sits inside his dad's shirt, on a necklace, his own beside it.

Melissa gives a toast, too. She reminisces the first time she met Claudia, how they became friends, and how, at the time, it was impossible to imagine a life without her.

Before her little speech, to everyone this was her and John's day, but it's clear to them now that it's not just that. To the newlyweds it's a promise to Claudia; Melissa's once best friend and his dad's first love. To be happy. To live.

There's more hugs, more cheers, the champagne popping, and a quick, impromptu speech by Scott, who was fuming at being outdone like this by not just Stiles, but also Derek.

His speech is not bad, per se. Angry jerks of his chin, wild eyes and noticeable pauses. It's not bad. It just looks bad in comparison.

Stiles will definitely rot in hell for finding this funny, but at least he won't be the only one. The whole pack is trying not to laugh, and Stiles has to hide his own in the lapels of Derek's suit, who in turn hides his laughter in Stiles' hair.

Stiles feels bad, once or twice. But Scott made his bed and he's lying on it.

And then, after that, there's the first dance. There's the open dance floor and little kids asking Derek sweetly if he'll dance with them. He's their favorite, and it's adorable, and Stiles takes a thousand pictures.

Derek is in a sharp suit, and the juxtaposition of him dancing with young children, in princess dresses and printed suits — one kid had a yellow, minion-print suit, and honestly, that kid, Darren, pulled it off well — all colorful to his black shirt, black blazer, and black pants, is just so...

Good.

Derek's whole face is lit up, the golden glow of the lights all around them putting him in an ethereal spotlight, his eyes soft, mouth curved up, and nose adorably scrunched as he tries to decipher the babbling of a two-year-old.

The mom of the kid comes to get the boy, profusely apologizing, but Derek just smiles and says it's okay. It was no issue, it's okay, no need to apologize at all.

"Right," she says, eyes flicking between Derek and Stiles. "I'll let you get back to your partner then." And it's clear she means him.

Derek doesn't correct her, and neither does he. She leaves, and in this corner of the room, it's just them now. Most kids are tired, now, and most guests have left. It's mostly just the closest friends of Melissa and his dad, and the pack, of course, who are here.

Derek turns to him, his eyes still soft, which somehow get more soft when he looks at Stiles. It takes his breath away, and he lets out a squeaky, "Let's dance?" He's almost 25, the "adult" age according to the internet, and he still acts like a high school kid with a fucking crush.

Derek just makes him feel that way.

Derek, who is going to be 30 in less than a week, the big decade, the big, bad wolf. Derek, who blushes, his cheeks pinkish red behind his stubbled face, and puts out a hand.

Stiles takes the offered hand, his heart dancing inside his ribcage. And onto the stage they go, to the applause of the pack, and his dad's, "Finally!"

Stiles blushes, too. It's just their luck to get on the floor when it's a slow dance song.

Derek wastes no time, like he can't think or he'll explode, and puts his left hand on Stiles' waist, his right on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles puts both his hands around Derek's neck, and the alpha leans into the touch. This, the blatant trust, the welcomeness of it, is what bolsters Stiles.

They move to the slow beat, their eyes on each other's like white on rice, and everything else just doesn't exist. It's just them, and only them. No one else exists, not when they do, this close.

They move closer still, their hips touching, their foreheads against each other's. Noses touching close.

"Hey," he says, and grins when Derek does.

"Hey," Derek says back, so close that Stiles feels in his bones the word shape itself in Derek's mouth.

The music changes, then, and Stiles recognizes this one from the very first beat of it. Of course he does. It's Derek's favorite song ever.

"Did you bribe the DJ to play Apocalypse?"

Derek laughs, a quick, short one, and Stiles watches the movement of it, the beauty of Derek Hale laughing. "What if I did?"

Before Stiles can say anything, the line, "kisses on the forehead of lovers," comes on, and Derek takes a step back, only to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles' breath stops in his throat. Derek closes the gap between them again, and sways them to the beat. Stiles just follows his lead, his face having stuck itself on an astonished smile, and by the time the song is over he's just hugging Derek, tight, close, forever and ever and ever close.

Derek hums the song right in his ear, and it's perfect, Derek's breath on him, his grip, his eyes on him.

Stiles takes a step back and just looks into Derek's eyes.

"Hey," Derek says softly. They don't need words. Just this, a moment to themselves, where nothing but them exists.

Stiles doesn't even have a clue what song is playing. All he hears is Derek. His unspoken trust and devotion, his soul half of Stiles', Stiles' own soul half of Derek's. Their mingling breaths, because they're still close, just a hair apart from being one.

"Hey," he repeats, and they're both moving forward, Derek's hands on Stiles' waist, his own around Derek's neck, and they kiss.

It's gentle and slow, like time doesn't exist, could never take from them, this moment infinite, their love defying the laws of the universe and stopping time.

Because this is it. This is love, theirs and theirs only, part of its definition somewhere in the noises Stiles is making, part of it in the way Derek is touching him, moving his hands around Stiles' body, up and down, up and down, caressing him close and closer still.

Because isn't that what love is? Finding meaning in another?

After what feels like a lifetime, Derek pulls back. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Derek hums against his lips, and they're so close, one breath two beings close, Stiles feels the movement of Derek's lips against his.

He lets out a small laugh. Derek swallows it down with another kiss, this one urgent, and time stills, again. Nothing exists, but this, and this moment only. Them. Arms around one another, devouring lips, tight grip, closed eyes, and peace.

They pull apart, foreheads resting against each other's, and Stiles opens his eyes to Derek's soft gaze. On him, through him, for him. He smiles, takes Derek's hand in his, dislodging it from its previous position on Stiles' waist, and brings it up to kiss the open palm of this man, who is radiant in this moment, glowing, almost, with happiness.

"Best day ever," Derek says, and he hums only the tune this time, and this time, Stiles sings the lyrics.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse."

"We did think it would take, like, a severe life or death situation for you two to get your shit together."

The sudden reality of a third person existing, and slowly, the reality of them being in the middle of a public dance floor in front of people has them flinching and moving apart.

"Kind of glad that didn't actually occur," Lydia continues, unperturbed.

"Definitely glad," his dad agrees.

"I do prefer you two getting together on my wedding day instead of my ER room, actually." Melissa adds.

Derek and Stiles both stare at their pack — Lydia, grinning eye to eye, a wine glass in her hand. John and Melissa beside her, their hands clasped, laughing at Derek and Stiles' wide-eyed gaze. Isaac clicking a hundred pictures of them, Erica with her full-red lips and a plate filled with food. Boyd beside his wife, hand on her shoulder, and Jackson leaning against Danny, smirking at the two of them. Cora is looking at them, that Hale look of absolute mischief. Kira and Malia have probably gone home — and nope, here they come, with a...

"Is that a banner?" Derek asks, aghast, and Stiles is right there with him. Because that fucking banner reads STEREK WINS.

"What the fuck?"

Peter comes out from the shadows, and Stiles tries to be happy about the fact that his appearance surprised everyone else present too, not just him and Derek.

"Thanks for making me win the bet. Really appreciate the $5."

"Bet?!"

His dad answers his unasked question. "We all figured you two would get together sometime during our wedding. Maybe during or after. It was just a matter of when." He points to where Malia and Kira are putting the banner up, right beside the one that says, JUST MARRIED!!! "Most of us figured the week following today, but Peter, Lydia, and Kira are the only ones who doubled down on the day being today itself."

"We're going to share our anniversary!" Melissa exclaims, happy.

Derek and Stiles just stare.

Derek turns towards him. He cocks an eyebrow up. Stiles nods with quick movements of his head.

"We, uh, are gonna go," Stiles says to the hall at large. "Have fun with your... bet, I guess. Dad, Melissa, love you guys, the rest of you, fuck off." Everyone laughs.

"We'll talk about anniversary plans later, Melissa," Derek says, and Stiles finger guns at her before realizing how stupid it looks.

Luckily, Derek picks him up, fireman carry style, and swoops him away.

Stiles groans against Derek's back. "Doofuses. Serious doofuses."

"Us or them?"

Stiles thinks. "All of us," he decides. "All of us, Derek. How the fuck were we so stupid to wait so long to get together?" They don't need to really discuss it — the kiss was just a precursor. "And why the fuck do they have to be so... ugh."

"They're still laughing," Derek says, as if that would help. "Doofuses," he agrees.

And then they're in the Jeep, Derek's camaro probably to be taken home by Isaac, and they're alone and when Derek drops him gently on the seat, Stiles lunges up to kiss.

"You make me fucking feral," Derek admits against his lips, and hey, Stiles loves where this is going. "I love you."

The words are nothing, really, but an arbitrary combination of English lexicon. But there is a meaning it — so many touches, so many moments shared between the two of them. Time spent in presence or in thoughts. All of it, leading up to this. These three words that make Stiles giddy.

"I love you too, and we really were doofuses."

"Wanna be doofuses on my bed?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Stiles speeds it out of the parking lot of the event hall, and they do, in fact, act like doofuses on Derek's bed.

They make-out, they throw down their clothes, and they pour out their hearts with every touch, every caress, every moan; they kiss and laugh and confess, touch and worship and love.

They map out each other's bodies and lean in, snuggle, and sleep.

If all apocalypses could be so lovely, it would be great, really.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #sheriff stilinski #melissa mccall #the hale pack 2.0 #ahhh spent like 15 mins trying to come up with a title and i give up #it's 3 am rn and i'm going to SLEEP #gotta wake up in like 5ish hours too aanxbsjshjs #bYE #sh.rambles #sh.writesonmain #hopefully y'all enjoy this weekend treat #i wrote this a good few weeks ago and so glad i found it in the piles of wip

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turtle-babe83 · 1 year

Note

Okay I am SO SORRY- I got confused with everything and still am not used to tumblr. Ignore all the other requests I made- here’s the actual one.

Fem reader with raphael, nsfw. He just had a fight with Leo and he is gonna pound reader into the next month 👀

Here’s the prompt requests!

Prompt: #5, #53, and #56

Location: #58

Action/kinks: #84 & 85, #86, #89, #94, #96, #97, #101, #102, #105, #109, #112, and #113

Inspired dialogue: #116, #123, #130, #137, #143, and #147

Kinda in the mood for something intense lol. Feel free to reject this aswell! No pressure!! :D

This one is going to be fun!! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you like it @jynxthelittlelynx!

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Raph x F!Reader

Warning: Language and NSFW content 18+ only

The shouting coming from the tunnels was the first clue. The rattling chains and stomping feet were clue number two. The third clue was the growls and curses coming from the one making most of the noise. You sighed from your spot on the couch and placed a bookmark in your latest paperback. It was going to be a rough night.

“Hello, Raphael,” you greeted him, drawing out his name like a plea for mercy.

He grunted as he stormed off to his bedroom. You closed your eyes and counted to ten, steeling yourself before following. When you entered his room, he was pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. Your eyes followed every jerky, huffed movement. He breathed in deeply, puffing out his chest. Then, like a tiny spark had ignited a powder keg, he exploded.

“Fuckin’ Leo and his bullshit! He thinks he knows everything. He neva listens to a word I say. Ya know, I might have a good idea once in a while if he would botha to shut up an’ listen to me,” he raged.

This was nothing new. The same old song and dance that you had to listen to every few weeks. Worse, it was so close to their spring mating season. The time of year when they were hormonal, territorial, and ready to fight at the drop of a hat, or a misspoken word. You had wondered how this year would pan out since you and the red brute had made your relationship official.

As he continued to rant about his elder brother’s alleged flaws, you contemplated a way to make this evening more enjoyable for both of you. Well…there was one thing that always caught his rapt attention. Reaching behind you, your nimble fingers turned the lock. So engrossed as he was in his tirade, he didn’t even notice you making your way around the room, slowly peeling off articles of clothing as you went. By the time you had made it full circle, you were completely bare, and he finally looked up.

Raphael froze at the sight of you, stark naked with a come hither stare. Bedroom eyes, he believed it was called. What had he been saying? Hell if it even mattered anymore. His body was swiftly stirring to life and more than willing to focus on the beautiful woman standing before him.

“Bed,” you purred, “now.”

Raphael’s eye ridges shot up at your sultry tone, and he moved to obey.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He maneuvered his larger frame into the middle of the bed, then scooted so he was leaned against his headboard. He patted his lap with a leer, growling, “Come to Daddy.”

A shiver worked it’s way down your spine at the sound of his lust-roughened voice. You made a show of swaying your hips as you sauntered over to the edge of the bed. You climbed up on all fours and crawled across the mattress until you reached his thick thighs. Straddling his lap, you pressed your damp folds to his still pant-covered groin, rubbing your clit on the bulge beneath the fabric. Raphael scented the air and his jaw clenched at the smell of your arousal.

“Still want to talk about Leo?” you asked, pointedly.

Raph’s meaty paws came to rest on your hips and he bucked up, making you gasp.

“Leo who?”

With that, his mouth descended and coherent thought vanished. No one could kiss like Raphael. His tongue twisted and tangled, licked and coaxed, until you were breathless and your own lips swollen. You continued to roll your hips, soaking his lap with your wetness as he met you roll for roll. It was beautifully building the pressure at your apex, but not quite enough to get you to the finish. His name came out as a desperate whimper as you ground down harder, and he swore, tearing his lips from where they were sucking at your neck.

“Say that again,” he moaned, “I want ta hear yer voice.”

Your breath hitched as you tried to articulate words. He bucked up harder as you struggled to do as he asked.

“Again,” he repeated, more forcefully, “I wanna hear my name again. Just like ya said it before.”

“Raphael!”

A smirk graced his handsome face and he licked his lips before ordering you to touch yourself. You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then hastily reached down between you and rubbed furiously at your aching nub. You needed release and you needed it now. Raph watched your fingers circle, and just as you began to stiffen, he flipped you both so that he hovered over you. Shock slackened your jaw as you realized that he ruined your orgasm. You smacked his bicep and scowled at his shit-eating grin.

“Whatsa matter, baby?” he drawled.

You bit back a curse, knowing it would only egg him on. Schooling your face, you gave him a demure smile.

“I think you owe me, sweetheart,” you replied, voice like saccharine. You tugged at the waistband of his pants and with a pout, you muttered, “You’re wearing too much.”

Raph barked out a quick laugh but removed his pants and underwear one-handed, while still holding himself above you. The feel of his pebbled skin against yours was always a little thrill, the contrast so stimulating. The turtle settled comfortably between your spread thighs, pressing his plush lips against yours. You curled one leg around his back, just under his shell, holding him close to you. As his kisses drifted down further, you stretched like a contented cat and spread your legs wider. He lingered over your breasts, sucking at your nipples and lapping the underside roughly, just like you liked. He left hickeys on both hips and then turned his attention to your thighs.

“Not so hard!” you admonished him after a particularly hard bite to your inner thigh. He just chuckled and licked the spot to smooth it. He caught your eye and then the hand that was pressed against the opposite thigh slid higher. You bit your bottom lip as he worked one finger into your tight entrance. A moan warbled out of your throat as he curled it and rubbed just right.

“Ya like that, don’t ya?” he smirked.

You nodded, rolling your hips along with each thrust of his thick finger. He continued to watch your face as he drew you closer and closer to your first release. He licked up your thigh again and caught some of your juices on his tongue. A churr rumbled his chest at the taste. He curled his finger again and your eyes rolled back as an orgasm wracked your body. He barely gave you time to finish before yanking his finger out and sucking it clean. You panted and pushed up onto your elbows. His finger slid out of his mouth with a wet pop and he leered.

“Spread those legs, baby. I like to eat my dessert first.”

Hooking your hands under your knees, you held your legs back and wide open for him, blushing at being so exposed but too turned on to care. He let his long tongue hang out and wiggled it suggestively before diving headlong into your pussy, stabbing deep. On the heels of your release, your inner walls were sensitive and clenched involuntarily at the intrusion. A gush of fluids coated his tongue and he slurped and smacked his lips. As much as you were enjoying his ministrations, you couldn’t help but want to return the favor.

“Raph-oh god! You’re so good at that, baby,” you moaned as he licked roughly. “but…I-ah-I want to-to…”

He pulled back for a split second to ask, “Ya wanna what?”

As you opened your mouth to answer, he latched onto your clit and sucked, so a wail came out instead of words. You were about to go over the edge, again, and you hadn’t done anything to him yet. Reluctantly, you pushed at his head and made him look at you.

“I want to touch you, too! Let me taste you,” you pleaded, breathlessly.

A grin spread across his face and he moved so fast that once again, you were nearly dizzy with the position change. You suddenly found yourself atop your beau, straddling his face, but your attention was focused on the hard length of his cock, bobbing just above the lower edge of his plastron. You felt saliva gathering in your mouth and wrapped a hand around the base. You could never get over halfway without gagging, he was so long and wide. You licked a slow stripe up to his tip, savoring the salty taste of him. The hint of his musk in your nostrils turned you on even further and you swallowed him down with no other preamble. Twisting and turning your head, letting your tongue massage his shaft as you coated it well in your spit. Satisfied that he was slick enough, you bobbed your head at a steady pace, listening for the certain grunt he made when you hit the right rhythm. There it was. The grunt and softly muttered curse. You mentally patted yourself on the back as you added a little more suction with each bob.

Raphael paused for a moment to enjoy everything. Feeling your mouth tight and warm around his cock, staring up at your ample ass cheeks while your soaked folds dripped down onto his waiting lips. This was heaven. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life, this worship and adoration of one another, and he knew he only wanted it with you. On the brink of his mating season, he resolved to focus on making you his completely. With that in mind, he redoubled his efforts, attacking your folds with a frenzy. Licking and lapping everything he could reach, plunging his tongue deep inside again and again, then switching to your clit to flick and suck alternately. He knew he was doing well when you hesitated your sucking to moan around his tip.

Nope. That was it. He couldn’t wait any longer.

You squealed as you felt yourself moving once again, flipped around and positioned on all fours. There was no warning as Raph grabbed your hips and slammed his cock as deep as he could go on the first thrust. It nearly knocked the breath out of you! The next thrust was just as hard and just as deep, as if he was trying to crawl into your body, cock first.

“MINE,” he growled, and you felt the word vibrate through your body like a brand or a seal.

It felt right. You belonged to him and he belonged to you. You knew it intimately and without any doubt. Your relationship may be just less than a year old, but your friendship had created a bond that was only growing stronger. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you trembled.

“Yours,” you whispered, “and you are mine.”

A resounding churr belted out in response to your heartfelt words and he slipped his arms around your waist, pressing his plastron to your back as he kept fucking you, easing up a touch. But you didn’t want gentle. You wanted your turtle. Your rough and rowdy hothead.

“Don’t hold back,” you bit out between clenched teeth, squeezing your walls around his cock and bucking back. “Show me how you wanna mate with me, Raphael. Show me.”

“Fuck,” he spat out, feeling his adrenaline rise at the intensity of your plea.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to bite, he clamped his teeth down on the place where your shoulder and neck met, hard enough to mark and just shy of drawing blood. The pain of it only increased your pleasure as he kept his thrusts deep but powerful. A litany of curses fell from your lips between loud moans and attempts to say his name. Raph felt a surge of pride for each “Ra-ahhhh” you uttered. He was going to blow his load soon and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum one more time first. His skillful finger played your nub like a violin, creating a symphony of sensations in a rising crescendo that peaked with a wail from your throat. Your exquisite finale.

With a groan, he released his bite and straightened his back, grasping your hips tight. Totally wiped out, you went limp as a rag doll while he pumped you full of his seed. He strained on the last two thrusts, then finally pulled his half-hard member from your still quivering cunt. He gathered you into his arms, murmuring words of affirmation and asking if you were alright and if he was too rough. You shifted so that you were completely encompassed in his embrace, snuggling your head under his chin with a yawn as you reassured him that you were absolutely fine.

“I love ya,” he mumbled into your hair, bringing a smile to your face. “I love this. I love us. No one else can put up wit my bullshit like ya, and I don’t eva want anyone else. It’s all you, babe.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his lips gently, eyes shiny with emotion.

“I feel the same. There’s no one else for me, but you,” you assured him.

His arms tightened around you and it was quiet for a few minutes, when suddenly something struck you and you giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Raph asked.

You smirked and quipped, “I oughta go thank Leo for getting you all worked up for me.”

Raph raised an eye ridge, snorting, “Again, Leo who?”

You both laughed as you settled in for some much needed rest, content in one another’s arms. ♥️

@waterstar2016 @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nittleboo @sharpwindow @androidships007 @raisin-shell @tmntspidergirl @thelaundrybitch @mysticboombox @zowise2912 @zombiesnips-blog @xanadu702 @hotredphoenix @happymoonangel @tmnt-tychou @forerunnertracer @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @coulrofilia-sexuell @raphslovemuffin80 @raphaelsrightarm @ravn-87 @raphsgrl @raphielover @turtlesmakemehappy @fyreball66 @thelostandforgottenangel @lilyssims @slasherblog @sewerninno @scholastic-dragon @pheradream15 @8pmblackcoffee @drowninghell @fluffytriceratops @dilucsflame33 @s-s-ironnie @rheawritesforfun @chicchanmooshy @roxosupreme @lunar-corgimon @bunnyraptor69 @ladyofparchments @morning-sun-brah @lec743 @inspiredwriter @sketch-and-write-lover @turtlebros4u

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #turtlebabe83 #raphael #Raph #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raphael x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph #tmnt aged up

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year

Text

Pity Party

Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Runaway!Reader

Word Count: +2,232

Warning(s): +18, Non Con, Mentions of emotional neglect, Stalking, Kidnapping, Reader is sheltered and has no survival skills, Lloyd being a total creep. Also corny alerrrt.

Author's Note(s): Inspired by yet another Melanie song and idc. Didn't spell check and still don't care! Not a Lloyd fan just bored and started writing.

You were sick of having to take orders from your parents. Sick of trying so hard to be the perfect child. Attending every dance recital, achieving perfect scores, getting into a great college. Only for them to disregard the one day you ask from them. It's one thing for your parents to forget a tournament or anniversary, it's another when it's your birthday.

You cried all morning, locked up in your bedroom. As you lit the candles you thought, did they even care? Hell, did they even bother to see if you were alive?! And no, this wasn't just a small thing. It was the only thing you asked for this year. No presents, no extravagant party, just for them to show up. But when your father cancels last minute for another 'emergency' meeting, it broke your heart. They would never learn. You blew out the candles, wishing to never see them again.

Sometimes you were positive they were purposely going out of their way to avoid you. That's why you've saved them the trouble of doing so, packing only a backpack before sneaking out. You'll save them the trouble of dealing with your existence. That's how you landed at a park all the way across town. Seated on a swing set as you cried to yourself. A forever nomad in your own world, with parents who never understood you.

You check your phone, It was only a few minutes this cursed day was over. Since the day you were born your parents had decided everything for you. Everything from the day you were born had been planned out. From the start to the finish. You could predict exactly how each day went by in your sheltered little life. But tonight would be worse than you could ever imagine. He'll make sure of it.

Stalking you in the dead of night was a lone wolf. Lloyd made sure to hide in the shadows whilst keeping a close eye on the unsuspecting woman. He takes a dab of his pen. Breathing as much of the concentrated water before showtime. He tosses it to the ground, still keeping his eyes on the target. Now what's a girl like you doing out here?

In his eyes, You weren't a grown woman with her own independent thoughts. But a stupid, stupid girl who didn't know any better. He'd set you straight. It'd take some time but you'll learn fast. Shit..what time was it? 11? 12? He checks his watch. About ten til midnight.

He notices a heavy look of sleep had crept on your face. You fight against the urge to yawn. He'll fix that. A pretty little thing like you should have a fixed curfew. Can't let any of the bad men find you. God, forbid you found anyone else like him. He grins from ear to ear. Already imagining you all tied up and stuffed in his trunk. His favorite role play.

What you wore made him audibly groan. He could see the top of your blouse unbuttoned. You wore a loose-fitted summer outfit. One that amplified your figure. He takes note of how your knees press together. Stern on remaining shut. It was a telltale sign of innocence. You must've been raised a lady. Were you a virgin? He sure hopes so. He's never had one before and part of him hopes to soon.

The streetlight reflects off of you in an angelic way. Why the hell were you doing here at this time? More specifically, what the hell were you doing on this side of the city? You hung your head, letting out faint sobs. He sees a backpack and puts two-and-two together. Poor thing must've run away from home. But don't worry, he'll take you in. He'll take you over and over again.

Who knows when another opportunity like this may happen? He had this primal urge to do one thing and one thing only: Hunt. He's a natural-born predator. Trained in the art of stalking prey. You've given him no choice. Teasing him at this late hour. He needs to act on his needs first before anything else. You'll understand soon enough.

"Hey Sunshine." There he was, your very own boogeyman. He starts off with his soft voice, almost sounding concerned, "Are you lost?" the voice is coming from in front of you. Looking up to see the stranger. A man, seemingly in his thirties, dressed in business casual attire, "You waiting on somebody?" he leans in, almost a little too close for comfort. How the did he manage to get so close without making any noise?

"N-no sir." You lean back. Something about him hadn't felt right. In fact, nothing about him felt right. He reeks of danger. He smiles at your response, as if you had given him the right answer, "Good. Then no one will come looking." stepping forward.

"Wait! Wait my parents! They're waiting for me!"

"I thought you said you didn't have any family." his voice sounded more like an accusation. You clutch the chains of the swing, "I...I--"

"I-I-I is not a good answer." he pokes fun at your stutter.

Your eyes grew at the man's response. You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights as your feet now touch the ground. You're off in a split second, making a dash for the street. You felt a strong pair of arms push you from behind, causing you to fall to the ground. You scramble to sit up, turning around to see the perpetrator.

There he stood close to the shadows. Basking in it's embrace as he gazes down at you. He smiles, his eyes squinting slightly. Everything about it seemed nerve wrecking. Although you grew up sheltered. It's didn't take a genius to know danger was--is here. You look up at him with beady eyes and trembling lips.

He notices your eyes starting to water. Oh...you poor thing. He can't help but chuckle at your reaction. Of course, you wouldn't know what to do. You weren't prepared to ever receive this sort of treatment. But today's your lucky day. As you begin to crawl back he takes a step forward. He crouches down to grip an ankle, yanking you across the ground. You wince from the friction, skin now burning.

You flip over to crawl away. That's when he pounces. His body now flush against yours. He coos in your ear, "Now where do you think you're going hm?" his voice raspy with lust. His body now pinning yours to the ground. With one hand around your neck and the other lifting up your skirt. Your fingers dug into the dirt, trying to drag yourself away from the perpetrator. He caught both your hands together and pins them. Hearing his belt unbuckling causes ice to run through your veins.

Lloyd secures both yours wrists in a firm grip while fastening them in place. He huffs, "There." panting from the struggle. His hair now a mess. Fixing it can wait. Right now he wants to enjoy his prize. He reaches underneath your skirt, securing his hands around the waistband before pulling down. He groans in disbelief. Never had you felt so weak. This was it, the day you've dreaded since you were a little girl.

Never had Lloyd seen such a pretty pussy. All for him. He sloppily tongues at your folds, dragging his pink muscle along your hole, brushing against the bud a few times before returning to the crease. He collects a thick wad of spit before hacking it on your cunt. Your thighs shook from the sensation. Heat suddenly began to pool at your core. What was he doing?? What in the world was that!?

Moments later you feel a whole new sensation. Something much bigger. No..no! Your eyes began to bulge as he starts to push. This man was going to kill you. If he keeps going he'll rip you in half!

"N-no! nononononononono! W-wait! Please!"

You let out a panicked cry. There was no way that could--would fit. For a moment you couldn't hear or feel anything. Hell, you couldn't even think of anything other than what was about to happen. This man was going to take what he wanted and there is nothing you can do to stop him. You should've never ran away from home.

You felt a deep pit in your stomach. That's when he began to push in. It all happened so fast yet felt like an eternity at the same time.

He began to grind his hips in a rhythem that matched his preference. But there was something about your snatch that has him absolutely whipped. His fingers dip into the flesh of your hips. He starts to pick up pace, plowing in and out your abused channel. Cursing to himself to keep going, almost caving into the warm embrace., "Fuck!" he groans. You felt amazing. He was thankful for how responsive you were.

His rough hands grip your neck, securing you in place as he thrusts deeper in. He strikes your breasts a few times before continuing onto your mound. His fingers spread your folds to tug at your poor bud. Causing a high-pitched squeal to escape your lips. For a moment you felt light headed, spots began to blur in the corner of your vision. This is how your fate would end. There would be no knight in shining armor in this story. He never considered himself to be prince charming. Then another wave of pleasure hits you. Causing all air to escape your lungs.

Your pussy milked him dry. He could physically feel his balls draining each time you'd orgasm. Lloyd wanted more. He needs more. He lifts you up and into his lap, thrusting his thick cock into your leaking channel, “C’mon now princess…open up for me.” he juts his hips up, “Ride me. I said RIDE!” his hand swats at your rear. Causing you to recoil from it. No matter how much you squirmed, you couldn't release yourself from his iron grip.

With his stamina It wasn't going to end anytime soon. You might as well comply, carefully lifting your hips up and down with the little energy you had left. He hums from the sensation, "Hmm that's right. Don't fight it." he licks his fingers, rubbing at your poor bud just to feel you cream. He swings his head back, holding back his groan, "Oh fuck!" his face now a vibrant flush. His voice is raspy, "You were stupid enough to run away. Even more for choosing this side of the city."

"P-please let me go-"

"Shut up." he grips your jaw, growling, "Shut the fuck up or I'll take your ass next." he can feel you tightening around him, "Yeah...yeah take it just like that. Like a fuckin whore."

"M-m'notawhore..." you whine. He yanks back your hair, eliciting a cry from your lips, "Ow! Ow! Please stop!" you sob. He growls in your ear, "You're a whore if I say you are. You speak when I tell you to, and when I tell you to jump all I wanna hear is 'how high'. If you say anything else I'll kill you right now." he sneers, gripping the sides of your face until it hurt. You whine from the pressure, letting out a deep sob.

Lloyd shoves you to the grown before thrusting back in. He absolutely indulged in that glassy look in your eyes. A light of hope dying inside. Your arms flail to cover your intimacy. You squirm from underneath him.

At that moment, he hadn't even realized it began raining. Soon enough the water began to flood the park. And this...this monster. This beast decided it would be him to take you. Whether or not you'd be compliant didn't matter. He ruts into you like the behemoth that he was. Thick wads of his spunk leak from your sore channel. You softly cried as you collapsed to the ground. Finally giving out.

He catches his breath. His nose brushes against the back of your neck, licking a stripe against the exposed skin. Salty yet at the same time sweet. He thought for a moment you would've died. You sure sounded like it. The flailing and squirming around with your little tantrum. What felt like forever only took several minutes. Seven minutes of your life you can never take back.

Lloyd looks at his wrist watch. About a minute til midnight. Right on time. He had to wrap this up anyways, can't have your parents waiting. See, he would've brought you home, all you had to do was comply. Lloyd was hired by your old man to track you down. His little lesson may have gone a bit overboard. But how would you ever know if not the hard way. His way.

"Please just...bring my baby home!"

That was the last thing your mother said to Lloyd before he left in search of you.

Whatever your parents didn't know, couldn't hurt them. Shit...he'd have to come up with one hell of a story. A decoy body maybe. Sure, you'd hate him at first. Maybe even forever. He couldn't care less. Don't you see? This was for your own good. Sluts like you had to learn somehow. He takes a drag from his pen, knowing full well he wanted a cigarette so fucking bad.

He chuckles at how easy it was to break you. Not so strong and independent now are we? It took your parents 20+ years to make the perfect girl. Their protégée child, It only took Lloyd several minutes to break you.

He surprised even himself for what had happened. You're supposed to be his mission, and he never fails a mission. His record had been spiff-clean since becoming a private contractor. He chuckles, as if it would change anything. His reputation was nothing less than impressive, a little hiccup wouldn't ruin him if he covers his tracks.

He lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style into his car. Carefully securing you in the back seat. It was easy with you already out. He sprawls you across the backseat since the doors only open from the outside. He sits in the driver's seat and starts the car.

Lloyd finger combs his wet hair back, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. He takes note of your shivering. Groaning with annoyance as he turns on the heat. He knows he's not pussy whipped. He just likes toying with you that's all, right?

Fuck it. He's going to keep you. He deserves something special this year. After all it was his birthday.

#Dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fab!reader #fem!reader #afab!reader #lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #my work #my works

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fondofcowboys · 8 months

Text

here's my very all over the place feelings on certain aspects of baldur's gate 3 as a romani immigrant. warnings for spoilers of course. mind you i have not finished the game yet!

1. i really can't believe there aren't more people talking about the very blatant racism in astarion's questline. im quite sure it's because the game already touches on it, even giving you the choice to call astarion a racist, and also because everytime we roma talk about anything that makes us uncomfortable we're immediately shunned and "well actually!"'d.

the problem is that it feels Extra icky because the man who was the inspiration for the original dracula, Vlad the Impaler, kept romani slaves. this is the ONLY part of vampire history that, no matter how different the media, will always stay relevant for some reason.

castlevania has the seekers, a nomadic group of magic users who pass their history down orally. while they are *mostly* treated well, the first arc of the show literally shows them being hunted out of town for the simple act of existing.

vampire the masquerade... well.. that's an entire other can of racism worms.

curse of strahd has the "vistani", a nomadic group of people who are treated like third class citizens everywhere they go, and are of course, most known for being tarot readers and drunkards.

the vampire diaries have the "travellers", who get called "gypsies" explicitly as a derogatory word by other vampires.

i want you to take any vampire media you enjoy and ask yourself, "is there anti-roma racism in this?". i guarantee you, if you look for it, you're going to find it. for SOME reason, the only thing that stays consistent with all these different vampire IPs, is that romani people are hated and scrutinized at every moment of their lives.

i MORE than understand that astarion's racial insensitivity is part of him. it's part of what makes him malleable by the player. you can help him understand why he's wrong, or you can lead him down a worse path.

i still reserve the right to feel some sort of way about astarion sacrificing fantasy-romani children for power, willingly. don't get me wrong, he's my favourite character, right up there with halsin. which is why i obviously have so many feelings about this.

(yes, the Gur were written inspired by romani people, if you were not aware)

2. the anti-immigrant sentiment is such an inherent part of the story that i did not think was going to stick around for SO long. i dont really have much to say about this, i think i should've expected it. as a fan of dragon age (i know, tragic) i'm quite used to unnecessary fantasy racism everywhere i go, i just hoped it wouldn't be part of the main crucial story.

3. larian studios i am so so so thankful for the halsin romance. eternally. forever and ever. he's my pookie bear and i'm so grateful some extra time was made to create a romance for him.

can i ask you why the hell does halsin want to LEAVE. At The End. i've noticed how much he contradicts himself throughout his questline and i just... I don't know. i've seen some other people complaining about how non-chalantly he talks about being a sex slave and i understand too, but i think it's part of his character to not take the horrible things that happened to him seriously like he does with others. that, or someone at larian took an unknown substance that led them to make halsin Very inconsistent.

with the poly situation, some people are strictly polyamorous! some people are strictly non-monogamous and do not feel comfortable being in a monogamous relationship. i understand the frustration everyone, but that's how halsin is. i dont know if that was the writers' intention, but that's certainly what he comes across as to me; strictly non-monogamous.

what i DONT understand is why he says he only wants you, calls you "my heart", is so fondly and lovingly attached to you, and then he just.... Dips? Whatever. I'm ignoring that part forever. it's not canon to ME!

anyways. yeah. feel free to Engage in some Friendly conversation. emphasis on friendly, for the love of g-d

#ezio.txt #the bear speaketh #bg3 halsin #halsin the druid #halsin #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #antiziganism #sorry for rambling but also i have a mouth. i must scream #if you try to well actually me about this i'm eldritch blasting you #fantasy racism #dragon age

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bltzgore · 8 months

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im obsessed with waterboarding torture whump but i canNOT find much on it here on tumblr so i was wondering if i can have your twisted brilliant mind’s take on it……. /pos

Oh, YES! (and thank you 😈) this is gonna be a long one. I have some IDEAS.

Tw: waterboarding, panic, mentions of gasoline

Let's hit the ground running!

Waterboarding is fun, but it is so much better (in my opinion) when you go after someone who is especially susceptible to it. Someone who's afraid of the water, or has incompatible physical traits or powers.

Starting with water boarding the old fashioned way (we'll call it traditional) with the build up. The getting tied, or even better held, down on whumpee's back. I'm gonna lean into held down for how much more they can struggle. I think the amount of fear expressed can double if whumpee actually manages to get an arm free before it's grabbed back and pinned twice as rough.

You need to show that whumpee is desperate. They are convinced this is going to kill them. They are screaming, or growling, or maybe they snap (does your whumpee bite?). This just makes the whumpers laugh. "Damn, we got a live one."

Then the cloth goes over their face and and they feel like they're going to have a heart attack, whumpee is actually crying at this point, hyperventilating (which will only make it worse when the water arrives). The terror is so strong it hurts.

Let us recall that covering whumpee's eyes can make things exponentially worse. They can no longer predict and brace for whatever it is. It can come at any time and that kind of terror can do half the whumper's work for them. So keep things unpredictable.

From there it's a simple process for whumper. Half drown whumpee, demand information they cannot give, put the cloth back, rinse and repeat.

Whumpee feels like they are drowning and dying and being dragged back again. This is their own personal hell, and there is no escape. I like to wonder how much energy they'd have, and if eventually they'd fall limp. Whumpee no longer has the strength to fight back and now they're sobbing and just waiting to die.

I love when it's a fierce character who's breaking to this as well. They started out cursing everyone out and trying to claw at their captors and they've been reduced to begging and incoherent runs of "No no no no no no! Not again!! STOP! STOP-"

So I said before this was the traditional method, let's branch out a bit:

- I once read a very inspired whump post about using gasoline to waterboard someone, and holy shit I wanna write about that! (I was unfortunately unable to find the original post.) Just imagine how much more it burns. Choking on gas. Then whumper gets to threaten them by holding up a match.

- there's also holding someone under water. I don't prefer this necessarily, but it's a fun option if you don't have the means of restraining whumpee on their back. You could do this anywhere, and if you press their head down just right you can make sure they can still hear whumper as they make their demands.

- I could go on and on about water based whump, but for now I'll cut it here! Happy whumping!!!

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #waterboarding #tw waterboarding #hydrophobic whumpee #whump asks #bltz asks

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naivesilver · 8 months

Text

Just a little something inspired by @wildartsstuff 's Lies of P content - thank you for confirming you encouraged this kind of thing, I am genuinely unwell about your Lampwick ahaskjfhjakkfdsh 💝

✍️(◔◡◔)

The fact that there are people calling the boy Devil’s puppet in earnest will never not be ridiculous to Lampwick.

It’s true, perhaps, that what little Pinocchio has left of natural only serves to make him more uncanny – he’s deadlier than any human and as multifaceted as no other automaton could ever hope to be, handsome from a distance until you step close enough to hear the cogs turning in his chest. His appearance has tricked many and will likely trick many more in the future, Hotel Krat’s finely-tuned defense mechanisms being only the first to fall; no wonder some wagging tongues would take offense to it, after a while.

If the Devil’s in the details, then old Geppetto sure went to great lengths to refine his son up to his own perfectionist standard, and at the end of the day, it worked. Pinocchio is a miracle, or an abomination, depending on who you ask. He’s as unique as it gets, even in a bizarre place like Krat.

But Lampwick- Lampwick has seen this abomination from up close, and while he might not be an expert in anything holy unless he needs to curse it off the sky, putting such a label on Pinocchio is still an amusing prospect. There’s nothing devilish, from what he’s gathered, in a young man who looks up at him with such bright, guileless blue eyes, who responds to every kiss with the naive enthusiasm of a child trying out a game for the first time, and who elicits such trust and such protective instincts in most people he meets, warranted or not that it might be.

And there are some other moments, where they’re laying side by side in the eerie quietness of the sleeping hotel and Lampwick turns to Pinocchio, to this beautiful, complicated fool who is so painfully human for someone who’s had so much of his inner workings replaced, and wants to press his lips down the length of his naked body, and if there’s anything sinful in that, then they’re already both done for. There’s hardly going to be a circle of hell reserved for them that’s worse than Krat itself, anyway, with its reek of death and automated patrols and a nagging, irritating talking lamp that frets more than a grandmother sitting on her porch and yelling at neighbor children.

Besides, even if there were- well, at least it would be warm there, somewhat. Warmer than this bed, maybe, where even Pinocchio’s marble skin turns tepid and flushed, and he becomes the holiest sight Lampwick has ever set his eyes on.

#lies of p #lop #pinocchio #lampwickcore #fanfic #my mans...I lobe him #in realtà ho visto pure le robe più zozze su twitter quindi la colpa di tutto questo è anche loro #can't have shit in hotel krat

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warmaidensrevenge · 2 years

Text

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

A/N: Ok here we go. Inspired by Paramores crush crush crush and Life happens by Hippie sabotage. Also I would like to tag all of you but it takes too much work to do so. So I'm limiting my tags to 20. Sorry please don't be mad. Enjoy.

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

Warning: angst, arguing, fighting, cursing, and Body insecurities mentions of sex Not proof read and no word count.

Part 5: Ultimately

Summary: Slipping through my fingers.

The second he ran out, you went after him.

Something was terribly wrong. You felt it the second you saw him. But then he forced a kiss on you. That wasn't like him. So you needed to know what had gotten into him.

Eddie thought that if he kissed you, it would make things clearer for him. But it didn't. It only made things worse.

" Munson!" You called after him as soon as you both were outside. But he didn't stop. "Munson, what the hell is going on? Please just talk to me."

He was shaking his head and on the verge of tears. But he couldn't face you. He was too ashamed.

You quickly ran in front of him and put a hand on his chest. Stopping him.

You look for something, anything on his face. But he gave you nothing. You weren't even angry anymore. He was scaring you.

" You know... I'm not in the habit of being the other woman, Munson." You teased to try to get him to see that you weren't upset.

He smiled at the joke. But it went as quickly as it came.

You cupped his cheek, making him look at you. "What is it? What happened?"

Tears threatened to leave as he pulled you into a tight embrace. After a few moments, he led you into the back of the van.

You sat across from him. With your worries only getting worse. " Is-is it Sara?"

He nodded. " I... I was with her tonight."

You sat there quietly. Giving him the time he needed. You knew that something bad had happened. He never got this quiet for this long before. Normally you couldn't get him to shut up.

He exhaled. " We uhh we got in a fight."

He started drumming his thumbs on his knees, letting his head fall back to looking up at the ceiling.

You spoke softly so that you wouldn't scare him off. " What was it about?"

He sighed and looked at you with sad eyes. Even though he didn't say a word, you knew.

"About me?"

He wiped away a tear and nodded again.

Now it was your turn to not say anything for a while. Your mind only coming to one conclusion.

The kiss was a goodbye.

Eddie was trying so hard not to break down. The moment Sara said, it was either her or you, the little voice in his head was screaming your name.

Still, he did something stupid. He told her he picked her.

The moment he left her place, he knew it was his dick that answered. But what could he do now?

You took a deep breath. " Is that what you want?"

He shook his head. "I- I don't know."

He was struggling. You could see that. Anyone could see it if they just took one look into his sad brown eyes.

" Tell me what to do y/n. I don't know what to do."

You quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and got up to kneeled in front of him. Looking him right in the eyes. Placing your hands on top of his to calm his nerves.

" I'm gonna make this easier for you." You whispered.

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

You lingered there for a second. Then you rested your forehead on his.

" I love you Edward Joseph Munson."

Eddie sat there for what seemed like hours after you left. He knew he fucked up.

You had taken the end of friendship with such grace. It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

And now he knew why he felt so confused. He had feelings for you. When did they happened, he wasn't sure. But, he already made his choice. Now he had to live with it.

Even if he could still see you, it would be torture.

...

Finally the holidays were over and you went back to school. You had made the decision to focus on your studies this semester. Graduation was coming up in a few months and you and your friends were in the home stretch.

It was the first day back after what happened. And though you wished you could crawl in a hole and die. You picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and kept going.

It was the only thing to do.

You were down a friend, and things were as uncertain as ever. Still, you had to focus. Though that was hard as hell when all you wanted to do was talk to him.

You saw Dustin during lunch and you gave him your Hellfire shirt. He had asked over and over again why you were dropping out. But you said you were too busy for it now.

He didn't push it any further. He knew you and Eddie were on the outs again. But he didn't know why.

You gave him a hug and went off to finish the rest of the day.

School and work and home just molded your week together.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you started writing again. Finally finding some sense and passion.

The words flowed like a river.

But you missed him. You missed the curly haired guy you used to call friend.

...

One evening a couple weeks later, you were sitting at your desk working on homework and listening to your Christmas gift from him.

You were singing and lightly head banging when the phone ran. Your dad picked it up and called out to you.

You went down stairs and picked up the receiver. Dustin was arguing with what sounded like Mike.

Your brows knitted together. " Hey calm down. I can't understand you."

You listen for a few seconds before becoming completely enraged.

"WHAT?!" You shouted and hung up. Grabbing your dad's keys before running out the door.

You pulled up to the school and made your way to the gym. You search the court side for the dumb bitch.

The gym was packed because of the basketball game in progress.

The second Lucas saw you he stood up from the bench.

You stormed across the basketball court when you found who you were looking for. Causing the game to halt.

Lucas tried to grab your arm, but you jerked away before he could.

" Hey Sara!" You yelled.

As soon as she turned around, you decked her right in the nose. HARD.

You felt a crunch under your knuckles.

As she fell to the ground, you got on top of her and started pulling her hair and punching her.

People around you gasped and started yelling.

A few hits later, you felt hands on you, pulling you off of her.

You knew you would get in trouble. But you didn't give a flying fuck.

When you looked, Steve and Lucas had you by the arms. You then pulled out of there grasp and pointed a finger at the bitch.

" If you EVER lay a finger on him again, next time I won't be so fucking merciful. Do you understand me!?"

Sara nodded while holding her bloody nose and cried. You turned and marched out of the gym before anything else could happen.

...

You were at home all but 5 minutes, when the phone rang. You yelled down the stairs at your dad. " If that's Munson tell him I died."

You heard him mumbling. " Y/n?! For God sakes! Come down here. Now!"

You groaned. Shit!

" A fight?! A FIGHT?! What the hell is wrong with you!?" He yelled. " I've raised you better than that."

You rolled your eyes and explained to him that some stupid girl hit Eddie.

He slammed his hand on the coffee table. "And that makes it ok for you to fight?!"

You narrowed your eyes at him. " He's my friend dad. What was he suppose to do? Hit her back?"

" No. But that doesn't mean you had to fight her."

You shook your head. Clearly he didn't get it.

He went on to explain how you were suspended for a week. And that you were lucky that he didn't ground you.

Like you ever did anything outside of work or school lately.

He did say that you couldn't have company for a month though.

Big fucking deal.

...

Before you stomped off to your room, you grabbed an ice pack.

It was almost 11 pm when there was tapping on the window. You turned from your homework and bit your lip.

Eddie?

You got up and went to open it for him.

" You can't be here, Munson?" You whispered.

He grinned and matches your tone. " Hence, why I came to your window instead of using the front door."

You looked away. Should you let him in? How could you? He was a butthead.

He then grabbed your wrist and begged you with his eyes.

You sighed and backed away.

He climbed in while you went to turn on some music. You had the thought of how much you love the sound of the record player.

Eddie sat on your bed, while you went to sit in your desk chair again. Looking everywhere but at him.

It was quiet for a minute before he spoke.

" You broke her nose." He said, keeping his voice low. " Didn't know you had that in you kiddo."

You gave him a thin lip smile. " There's a lot you don't know about me."

He frowned, then opened his mouth to say something. But then, you both heard your dad started up the stairs.

Both of you shot up and fumbled around. Then you pushed him into your closet just as your dad knocked on the door.

You quickly jumped on the bed out of breath. " C-come in."

He opened the door and told you he was going to bed.

You nodded and stayed put until you heard his door close. You hopped back up to close the door slowly. Turning the handle until you heard the small click. Locking it right after.

Eddie peeked out of the closet.

" Is it safe?" He whispered.

The thought of him coming out of the closet was so funny to you.

You giggled. " Yeah."

Keeping your voices low, he explained what happened.

Apparently, he and Sara got in an argument about making their relationship public. She, to no surprise to anyone, didn't want to.

Words were exchanged and she slapped him.

You lifted his chin towards the light and saw that his cheek was red. You took the ice pack off your hand and placed it on his face.

He gave you a small smile and gently grabbed your hand. He then lifted it up and brought it to his lips. Pressing a sweet little kiss on your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered.

He met your gaze. " Thanks for defending my honor, pretty girl."

You nodded a bit. "Anytime Munson."

After a minute or so you got under the covers while Eddie took off his shoes and jacket.

He climbed in with you and laid on his back.

You both stared up at the ceiling.

" I'm sorry y/n. I should have known better."

"It's... it's ok. But next time you think about getting into a relationship. Please let her or he be the complete opposite of Sara fucking Mitchell."

You both chuckled lightly.

Eddie then positioned one of his arms under your head. Leaving the other resting on his chest.

You moved closer to him and told yourself to be brave.

You gently cleared your throat. " I need to tell you something."

He turned his body towards you. "What's up?"

" I-" You cut yourself off.

He raised a brow. "You?"

You took a sharp breath in and went for it. " I love you Munson."

He lifted to lean on his elbow and smiled down at you. " I know. I love you too."

Still not meeting his gaze, you shook your head. " N-no." You took another deep breath, gathering the courage to say it. "I'm in love with you."

Uh what? He thought. That made him speechless. You had to be playing a prank on him. There was no way you really felt like that.

He furrowed his brow. " For how long? Since Sara?"

You shook your head. " No. Since before her."

That's when it all became clear to him. The second try at a first kiss, the argument at the tree house. All of it. You had been non-verbally trying to tell him that you cared more for him than a friend. Even that day after the fight at the picnic table. You had said that you loved him. He should have known then.

Eddie was being too quiet. It actually scared you. So, you tried to divert. " I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

" You didn't mean to what? Have feelings for me?"

He sounded harsh. Which made you feel like crawling into yourself. Or implode. Either way, you wouldn't have to worry about the outcome of this conversation.

Tears fell from the corners of your eyes. You sat up and wiped them away. " I tried. I really did try making them go away...but no matter what I did, I couldn't get you out of my head, or my heart."

He sat up too. He could feel the pain you were experiencing. And it made him want to cry too. " Why now? What did I do to make you say this?"

" I -I don't know." You whimpered. " It's not your fault. I'm just tired of feeling like this. It hurts too much to keep it a secret."

Silence fell once again.

He reached for your face and made you look at him again. This time he leaned in for a kiss.

It was so tender and beautiful. You melted right into him. Even allowing him to lay you back down as the kiss deepened.

You wanted to tell him to take you. You wanted to give into him. Because you felt like you finally had your chance. But your conscience told you to stop.

You put your hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away. " I-I don't understand."

He looked at you so lovingly. His eyes seemed to twinkle.

God you were so beautiful right now. Everything you said had him swooning over you. Even when you reached up to move his bangs to see his eyes better. All he wanted to do was kiss you again.

So he leaned in for another. But you put your hand on his chest and pulled away slightly. Confusing him. You had just said you loved him. Now you didn't want him.

His heart was beating so hard in your palm. So was yours. Eddie always did that to you. But what was surprising was that you had affected him like that too.

He caressed the apple of your cheek. " What's wrong?"

You pressed your lips together before answering. "We...we can't Munson. I-I don't want to ruin our friendship."

Now he was definitely puzzled. " Why would this ruin it?"

You exhaled slowly. " Your my best friend, Munson. If things don't work out. I-I don't know what I would do if I lost you...It was hard enough to see you with Sara. It almost ended our friendship. I can't let how I feel about you, get in the way of us."

He moistened his lips and shook his head. " I want you y/n. Does it matter how I feel?"

You wiped your face and cupped his jaw. "Yes. How you feel is always important to me. You're the most important person in my life. That's why our friendship has to come first. No matter how we feel."

His heart sank. If only he would have seen this sooner, you wouldn't be pushing him away right now.

However all he could do was nod. Because you were right. Being together would be awkward for your guys friends and family. Not to mention the pressure that comes with a sexual relationship. That alone might be uncomfortable. Still, something in him wanted to find out what you guys could have.

But instead of saying this, he laid back down. And pulled you into his arms.

" Ok." He sighed. " We'll do whatever you want."

You guys laid there for a while listening to music.

Both wishing and hoping that maybe one day, things would change.

...

February came so fast.

You and Eddie's relationship started to feel normal again.

You guys tried to avoid talking about the feelings there. That only seemed to be growing every second you spent together.

He would do things that had your stomach doing summersaults.

At school, he would stare at you with those eyes. The look of longing and regret. You knew that look very well. Being that, it was how you looked at him for months. Still, you couldn't go there.

Then when he sneaked in at night, he would hold you and whisper in your ear. Telling you how beautiful you were. And how stupid he was for not saying it sooner.

You guys tried your best to stop sleeping at each other's place. Even with his protest.

You had convinced him that it was too hard for you to do that. And that if you wanted to remain friends, it was going have to stop.

Eddie knew it too. He felt you tremble every time he hugged you. He would feel the goosebumps when he caressed your arms.

Because it was true.

Every time he came over, it took everything you had to not give in. To not pull him into a passionate kiss that inevitably turned into much more.

He would be lying if he said you didn't have the same effect on him. Oh you did. Your smile alone had him going crazy. One loving glance nearly had him on his knees begging you for a chance.

So obviously, he had to agree to no more sleep overs. God knows how many boners he poked you with through the night.

However, it seemed like a few times a week you would unlock your window so he could come and sleep. Or you would find yourself outside the Munson's trailer when you missed him too much. You always slept so well knowing he was right next to you. And it felt even better sleeping in his arms. You felt safe and loved.

Eddie could say the same thing. Being near you made him feel complete. For a long time he took sleeping with you for granted. He understood now, that he always got a good night's sleep when you were near. Just knowing he could wake up and see your face was everything to him. And it meant so much more now that he was falling for you.

Eddie had put a hold on the campaigns for a while to focus on school. He was trying his hardest to graduate this year.

He now had a goal to shoot for. It wasn't just to get out of Hawkins anymore. It was to follow you wherever you went. But he kept that plan to himself.

So sure you helped him with his extra credit work when he asked. Making him promise not to skip or do anything that would ruin his chances.

Naturally, he agreed. He would have sold his soul just to get extra time with you.

One Thursday night in February, you two were working on a paper and he was doing everything he could to not do the work.

You were annoyed as hell. " I'm not gonna write it for you, Munson."

He pouted. Make puppy dog eyes. " Aww."

You rolled your eyes at him. "If you don't fix your face. I'll fix it for you."

He let out a sigh and grinned at you.

God you're beautiful. You thought as you rolled your eyes again.

He then got up from his spot on the couch and went to his room. You then heard the strumming of a guitar.

" Munson! That paper is not gonna write itself."

You sighed heavily when he didn't return. You got up and went to his room. With arms crossed, you looked at your frizzy haired friend.

" Munson, this is not the time for a concert."

He stuck out his tongue then smirked. " C'mon pretty girl."

He didn't need to go on. You wanted a minute too. " I guess we can take a break. I don't want my best buds head to explode."

Eddie smiled and patted the seat next to him.

While taking your place by his side, you listen as he tried the riff he had been trying to perfect.

And your mouth dropped when he did it successfully. You were overcomed with pride.

You beamed at him. "See! I knew you could do it."

He grinned at his accomplishment.

You guys celebrated for a moment before he laid his baby down next to him. He then turned back to you. Bringing himself closer. Lifting his hand to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Resting it on the slope of your neck after.

And without thinking you moved closer as he leaned in.

This kiss quite literally took your breath away. It was sweet and full of love. And for the third time in your life, you surrender to your feelings. But moment was fleeing.

Again, you pulled away. Averting your gaze from those eyes to your lap. No matter how you both felt, it would ruin everything.

You closed your eyes to fight back the tears that were coming. What you really wanted was to throw yourself on him and cover him with kisses. But then you thought. Well I would squish him.

He dropped his hand and looked you over. He had no other choice but to ask you to be with him. He couldn't do just the friendship anymore. So he went for it.

"Could we please try this, y/n? Please. I want you so bad, it hurts."

Still, you wanted to be with him so badly. Then you thought that whatever was going on between you two could not happen. It would be too complicated. And the whole sex thing would be awkward. He was experienced and you would end up disappointing him because of your lack there of.

You got up and cleared your throat. Taking off down the hall. "You know why, Munson."

Eddie got up and followed you back out to the living room. " And what if it works out? What if we were supposed to be doing this the whole time? What if we had to be friends first so that this could work out?"

" And what of it doesn't." You replied, sitting back down on the couch. " What are we gonna do when you get bored of me like you've done with other girls? What happens if it's too hard to get past the friend part to relationship?"

You tried to hide the pain in your heart that was coming out through your mouth. But it was useless. " Because I'd rather pretend to not have feelings for you than take the chance to not have you in my life. I love you too much to let that happen."

He was actually offended that you thought he was gonna treat you like any other girl.

" It's because you're my friend, that I'm taking this so seriously. Do you really think that I would do that to you? Y/n, you know me better than anyone else. You know I would never disrespect you or treat you like an object. I care about you, pretty girl. You know that. Ever since that day in the cafeteria...Why not give us a chance huh? Why not see how great this could be?"

He furrowed his brow and grabbed your hand. " I'm not gonna hurt you, y/n."

You looked up at him with pleading eyes. Begging he to stop trying. " I know you won't mean to. Not on purpose...but you have already. And I don't trust myself when I'm with you. You drive me crazy...I can't control my feelings."

That hurt him. It was true. He has hurt you a lot lately. But if he would have known what he knows now, he wouldn't dare do it again.

You laughed a little.

He moved to sit on the coffee table in front of you. Grabbing both of your hands. Squeezing them gently.

"Pretty girl, I-I can't take back that hurt. But what I can do is promise you that I will never do it again. And if I do, you can punch me square in face."

He smiled a bit. "Just one date..If you don't feel like this could work after it. I swear I'll stop. And I will let it go...but please lemme try and show you that this will. Please give me one chance."

You thought about it for a while. And looked at how good your hands looked in his. How good it felt to hold his callused hands in yours.

Eddie could see that he did it. He got you to consider it. All he needed to do was insist one more time.

He reached up and cupped the side of your face. " C'mon on pretty girl. Just one date. Let me show you how you make me feel...How You've always made me feel."

You leaned into his hand, not being able to fight it anymore. He had you. And you didn't mind one bit.

You then nodded and said a small okay.

He smirked to himself. Thank you God!

...

Eddie kept where you guys were going for the night top secret. Which caused you to take a long time picking out something to wear. You must have tried on like 10 different outfits.

It was pretty cold that February evening, so you had to dress accordingly.

You dawned on some blue jeans with holes on both of the knees and an olive green long sleeve shirt. With a zip up black hoodie that was a little big. Completing the ensemble with black and white high top chucks.

All that was left was your hair. You couldn't decide if it should go up or down.

Down. You thought. So you could wear your green knitted beanie. You wanted to be comfortable. Nothing too tight to show off your back rolls or protruding tummy.

After spraying yourself with some perfume, you heard Eddie's horn.

" Oh crap! I'm so not ready for this."

Doing one final outfit check and talking yourself into doing this, you went outside.

Eddie looked handsome as always. His beautiful curls moved while the wind blew them. He was wearing his favorite iron maiden shirt with his leather jacket and denim vest. He even wore his expensive black boots instead of his dirty Reeboks.

He smiled and ran to you. Giving you a warm hug. When he pulled away he held out a single daisy.

You laughed a little and took it. " Thank you."

" Your chariot awaits." He said excitingly. He then went to open the door for you. "M'lady."

Though you were so nervous. Seeing him made it fall away.

" Good sir." You said while climbing in.

He closed the door and jogged to the driver's side. Grinning like a mad man along the way.

Once he got in, he put on some music and reached for your hand. You blushed and laced your fingers with his.

Soon after, he drove you to Benny's.

Eddie being the gentleman he'd always been, jumped out and hustled to open your door.

While walking to the restaurant from the parking lot, he grabbed your hand again and led you in.

He didn't even let you order.

He handed the menus to the waitress. " We'll take 2 cheese burgers, fries and 2 strawberry shakes, please."

You second guessed if you should eat that because you knew it would go straight to your thighs. But Eddie was incredible. The whole time you two ate, worrying about calories was the farthest thing on your mind.

Being with him was the easiest thing in the world. You laughed and talked like always. You guys did exactly what you would do. Be friends.

Then he moved closer. That's when you got super nervous. Your knee automatically started to bounce.

You closed your eyes and told yourself to relax.

Then his hand was on your thigh. You felt calm almost immediately. He really had a way that made you feel so comfortable. And while you could feel other patrons eyes on you and him, you didn't care.

Eddie Munson was the best guy you knew. And it didn't matter if everyone else thought he was weird. You loved him.

Just as you finished your shake, he leaned in. " You look so beautiful tonight."

You blushed. " So do you, Munson. You went all out."

He grinned. " For you? I would show up on a lawnmower and drive off into the sunset."

You giggled. " Yeah, okay!"

He chuckled. " I'm serious. I'll pump my fist in the air for finally getting you to date me."

You shook your head at him. " I think maybe we've been watching too many chick flicks."

He shrugged. " Possibly... We'll talk about that later."

He then got up to pay. When he came back he held out his hand for you.

" Let's go pretty girl. I have a surprise."

You smiled and took his hand.

You got curious as he drove a little ways out of town. " Where are we going now?"

" You'll see." He said, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it.

He then pulled up into a field 15 minutes or so later

" Umm you're not gonna kill me right?" An honest question you thought.

He threw his head back and laughed.

Your eyes widened. That wasn't creepy at all.

Once he parked, he got out. Making his way to you.

He opened the door and held out his hand. You took it without hesitation and he led you to the back of the van.

You both sat in the back, looking up at the stars. There was a small meteor shower happening tonight. And though it was so cheesey to do this, Eddie never went on dates like this.

It was always about sex for him. Every "date" he went on, that was the end goal. And usually he didn't have to buy dinner first. Or beg girls to do it with him.

However, this was different. You were important. He couldn't approach this like any other "date." You deserve to be worshipped and adored. You deserved to be treated like a princess. His princess.

He was serious about you and the relationship. Hence him planning this date.

Sure he wanted to feel how your pussy felt wrapped around his cock. But not right now. Not tonight. That was something that needed to be planned out and made special.

Why? Because it was gonna be your first time. And though the thought of him taking that excited him, things had to go slow.

Eddie watched you as you looked up and smiled seeing the meteors. It confirmed that he chose the right thing to do. So he put his arm around your waist and pulled you close.

You leaned into him like it was second nature. The smell of his cologne engulfed you. His embrace made you feel wanted.

Everything he could have done to make this night special, he did. And though you enjoyed it immensely, it all felt too good to be true.

He reached up and gently pulled at your chin to meet his gaze. Then he gave you the softest of kisses. Yet again, you let him. Because kissing Eddie Munson was breathtaking. He knew exactly how to do it. He knew that this moment needed a closed mouth, tender kiss. He knew how to make this moment of peace even better.

When he pulled away, you put your head on his shoulder. Wishing to never go back to reality.

This night could have gone really bad, really fast. But you let it happen. You let yourself be happy for once.

You nodded. "I always have a good time with you."

Eddie rested his chin on the top of your head and felt content. A type of serenity that he's never felt before. And all thanks to you.

"Did you have a good time, pretty girl?"

His got butterflies at the confession and realize that so did he. With the exception of the fights you guys recently had. But other than that, he always did. He loved it when you were around. Laughing at his jokes, listen to his tangents, or support the band. You had always been there. Loving him. And he could kick himself for not seeing it.

You sighed happily as his thumb made small circles in your side. You imagined being like this with him. You dreamt of him looking at you the way he was tonight.

But you didn't expect to feel how you would feel now. You wanted to be his so much for so long. To finally tell him that you loved him. And now that he's here, wanting you, you just couldn't do it.

You felt impending doom. Something was going to get in the way.

You felt that something or someone was going to tear you apart. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake it.

You also couldn't stop how he made you feel. Before and after your admission of love.

You didn't know you were crying until Eddie wiped your face.

You sat up straight and looked ahead. Tears falling down. " I'm sorry Munson. I didn't mean to- I wish I could just get out of my head. But I can't."

He sighed heavily. Frustrated with your internal struggle. He shook his head and got up. Taking a few big steps away from you.

He threw his hands in the air and let them fall back down. " I don't get it... You say you have feelings for me and now your pushing me away. Am I really that bad? I thought this date was going good."

You were shocked at his words. He was blaming himself for this.

"N-no Munson. It"s not you. It's me."

He looked over his shoulder and scoffs." Don't give me that. Don't say that to me."

You sniffled and tried to explain. " It's hard okay. I-I've wanted this - you for a long time and I'm afraid-."

He turned to you. " Afraid of what? Me? I just don't get it. Don't you like spending time with me? Don't you like when I hold you? Or when I kiss you? Because I love being with you. I love you touching you and cuddling."

" Of-of course I do. But we did all those things before. And we weren't together. Well everything but the kissing."

He sighed in frustration. " I can't keep doing that now. I want more, y/n. I want you."

You furrowed your brow. " This isn't about sex, Munson. This is about our friendship. Are you willing to throw it all away? Do you want to lose what we've built together?"

He hung his head and shook it. "You know I don't."

You crossed your arms. " Then why now Munson? Why do you want this now? This whole time you never noticed it. You never saw me like that. And now that you know, what do you want from me?

He looked back up and was hurt. "Just because it took me longer than you to get here, doesn't make my feelings about you any less. I want this now because I didn't see how much you mean to me. I never noticed because I was self absorbed and I forget shit all the time. And what I want from you is your heart... I want you and only you."

Your heart skipped and your breath started to pick up as he went on.

He took a step towards you. " How can you say I don't notice you? If I didn't, then how do I know that every time we do a campaign, you braid your hair like you're getting ready for a fight. Or how would I know that everytime you miss your mom, you wear those little silver elephant earrings that she gave you. The ones with that green stone in the middle."

He went on to close the distance while you stood up.

"Or how we've known each other for a years and I've only seen you with your hair down 3 times. Once when we met. Once when we kissed for the second time. And now." He said while counting on his fingers. "Or how you bit your lip when your nervous. And all I have to do is hold your hand and you feel better...I care about our friendship. I care about you...and I wasn't sure what I wanted. But now I do...I'll say it over and over again if you need me to... I. Want. You."

He was close enough now that you walked the rest of the way to him. To that beautiful boy with the brown eyes. You looked at his necklace then met his eyes. You grabbed his hand and held it to your cheek. The cold touch of his rings on your skin sent goosebumps to your whole body.

He cupped your face. " I've always seen you, pretty girl. And I'm sorry it took so long for me to figure it out. But I'm in love with you too."

You looked up at him and could see the truth in his eyes.

"You're-you're in love with me?" You whispered.

He chuckled lightly and put his free hand on your shoulder and moved the other to the back of your head. " Well yeah dummy. Isn't it obv-"

You stood on your tippy toes and crashed your lips into his. Pulling him by the collar of he vest to bring him closer.

The hand on your shoulder fell to your waist. He then pulled you so that your bodies were flushed. He kissed you back with such passion, it had you weak in the knees.

Tongues massaging each others, exploring and teasing. And when it slowed down, you sucked on his bottom lip. Making him groan.

As you guys parted, he met your forehead with his. It was happening. You were his. And he was most definitely yours."

" Eddie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Take me home."

...

The drive consist of grinning and laughing. With him holding your hand all the way there.

Every once in a while, he brought your hand to his lips. Pressing them against it. He was being incredibly sweet and affectionate. And you hoped that it would never end.

As soon as your house was in sight, you were a little sad. The wonderful night was coming to a close.

You wanted him to come up but your dad was home. And you still couldn't have company.

But even if he snuck in, it might lead to sex. That definitely couldn't happen. Only because you lost yourself with him. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But to be totally honest, you weren't ready for that yet.

And there was no way in hell your first time was going be with your dad across the hall.

You also didn't want to do it in Eddie's van or trailer. The thought of all the girls he's been with, gave you the heebie-jeebies.

You then thought of his disgusting staind sheets. You were definitely going to have to buy him some new ones. You even thought of burning the mattress.

When he pulled up you giggled at the thoughts.

"What?" He asked.

You shrugged. " Who knew all I had to do was break Sara's nose to get you to end things with her and be with me? I should have done it sooner."

Eddie's laughed felt forced. You could tell right away.

You raised a brow at him. " What is it?"

He didn't look at you and dropped your hand. His face totally serious now.

"Munson?"

He slumped his shoulders. " I - forgot. Shit!"

You cocked your head to the side. " Forgot what?"

He pressed his lips together and looked at you with I'm an idiot expression.

You knew what he forgot immediately and it pissed you off. It's been almost a month since she slapped him.

What the hell?!

"Did you just cheat on Sara....with me?"

"I'm sor-"

You cut him off. " So this whole time you were pursuing me, you didn't think that ' hey yeah Sara' ?"

When he didn't say anything, you got out of the van. Slamming the door and marched off.

You've got to be fucking kidding me!

Eddie called after you. Begging you to hear him out.

" What was this Munson? You thought that what? You would take me to dinner and say what you thought I wanted to hear. Then my legs would magically spread for you?"

" Y/n, you know it's not like that!"

He grabbed your elbow and turned you to face him. " I'm an idiot. Okay? I'm sorry. I'll call her right now."

" Break up over the phone, Munson. Really?!"

He jerked his head back. " You want me to do it face to face?"

" Yes!" You hissed.

"W-what? Why?"

You put a hand on your hip. "Because Munson, even though she's a bitch, she still deserves better than a phone call. Everyone does."

" Fine." He huffed while giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek. He then started jogging back to the van.

You yelled after him. " Now?!"

He turned around and walked backwards. "Duh! I might be an idiot, but I'm an idiot who's in love with you. And I'm not losing you because of it."

You grinned while watching the guy you loved drive away.

He loves me...

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