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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR ONE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, excessive use of pet names (to annoy reader), excessive use of fuck (again, to annoy reader)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.1k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

1:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR ONE - 4:00 PM

You had a lot of regrets. You were a college student – it was hardwired in your psyche to make an endless stream of stupid decisions you would come to rue.

There was that time you signed up for an 8 AM math class during your freshman year. There was the time your boss walked in on you spitefully gossiping specifically about him and his lack of leadership skills (you had been fired the next week, no surprise). There was that time Steve Harrington convinced you to get matching tattoos with him while drunk last summer, and now you had to explain to each new person you met why you had a ghost giving a thumbs down with a speech bubble stating ‘BOO’ on your ankle.

You had made plenty of dumb mistakes, enough to last you a lifetime.

But this? This had to take the trophy home for your worst impulsive decision yet.

“I’m not going in there,” you huff, crossing your arms as you lean miserably against the wall across from the open door of apartment 2C. An apartment you’d avoided ardently over the last year. To the point of even braving severe FOMO after turning down hanging out with your friends, solely because they’d be hanging out here.

“C’mon,” Steve stands in the threshold, waiting impatiently for your tantrum to end. You had to hand it to him – he had a way of being beautifully tolerant of your misbehavior over the years. All your sour moods, all your childish antics, all your moody mornings. Steve was there for them all the last three years, “Five hundred dollars, remember? You just have to survive a day, and then you’ll be rich.”

There it was – the only thing that could possibly motivate you to make such a catastrophic agreement with alcohol and drugs out of the equation. Money.

It had taken nearly an hour for everyone to agree on the terms the night before when the bet was first born, but in the end, it seemed fair enough to all involved parties. The wager was five hundred dollars for you and five hundred dollars for Eddie if you two managed, partially funded by your friends pooling their money and partially funded by the Harrington Inheritance. The two of you would set base in Eddie’s apartment, considering you were living in the dorms, and you were instructed to send hourly proof to the group chat. A group chat, that ironically, Eddie was not a part of.

You’re not sure why. You never cared to ask.

Regardless, five hundred dollars was a lot of money to a broke college student. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d managed to keep more than one hundred dollars in your account for more than a few hours. It was the kind of money that could pay for a few months’ worth of groceries, that would give you the freedom to properly go out rather than settle for another night in with movies your friend group had already seen ten times over. The kind of money you would probably flounder with once it was in your hand.

“And if I don’t survive?” you sigh dramatically, leaning further into the wall, your bag you’d packed for your time growing heavier in your grasp, “What if, he, like, murders me, Steve?”

“He’s not going to murder you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“If he was going to, he already would have.”

“I’ve never been around him long enough to give him a chance! What if that’s the only reason he agreed? What if this was his plan all along? He gets me alone for twenty four hours, I mysteriously disappear, and next thing you know, they find my body in the local canal-”

“While I’m flattered you think so highly of me that I would be capable of planning something so extensively,” the devil himself appears behind Steve’s shoulder, looking to be just as irritated as you, “Harrington’s right. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now.”

“Right. Cause that’s reassuring,” you snap in Eddie’s direction.

Steve takes a deep breath, no doubt mentally preparing himself for whatever bickering is about to ensue as he sidesteps so he’s not stuck in the middle of your line of fire.

“Listen, are we doing this or not? Because if not, I’ve got shit to do,” Eddie glowers at you, tapping his foot impatiently.

You hate him. You really, really hate him. In the most earnest sense of the word. He was impossible, he was cocky, he was obnoxious. And it never helped that he hated you just as much, always adding fuel to the fire. From the moment the two of you had met, it was instant friction. You said go, he said stop. You wanted pizza, he wanted Chinese. Every time a small, mundane decision had to be made as a group, he’d be sure to announce his opinion, always the opposite of yours.

You’re convinced he solely exists to be the bane of your existence. It’s probably the best part of his day.

“Five hundred dollars,” you mutter under your breath, finally lifting your bag and leaving your spot against the wall. It was now or never. If you didn’t get this over with now, you’d walk away and be army-crawling financially through life again. You needed the five hundred dollars more than you care to admit.

It had to be worth it. It had to be.

The moment you enter the apartment, you’re hit with the scent of him. Something musky, something of subtle spice. It’s all tobacco and pot, cheap cologne and boy. It’s easily overwhelming, and you almost turn around to make a cheap shot at Eddie regarding it before Steve shuts the front door and engages him into conversation.

Maybe you’d get used to it within the first few hours.

The rest of the apartment is decorated exactly how you’d expect from Eddie. There’s a certain messy quality to it all without being dirty. The couch looks worn, probably having not been brand new to begin with when Eddie found or bought it. There’s a coffee table covered in random papers, joined by two empty beer bottles and a couple of random dice. He has a TV, albeit small, and the entertainment center that it stands upon is littered by various nerdy collector’s items.

“Welcome to my palace,” he calls out from behind you, no longer distracted by Steve, “Sorry if it’s not up to your standards.”

“It’s fine,” you gruffly reply, turning back around to look at him, “Where, uh, can I put my things?”

The wicked grin that slowly spreads over his face can only spell out bad news, “Wherever. You’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“Dude,” Steve sighs.

“What? It’s a one bedroom apartment, and I’m not giving her my bed,” Eddie explains as he brushes past the two of you and heads for his kitchen.

If it were anyone else, you’d insist that it’s fine. Practicality tells you that he shouldn’t have to give up his bed. It’s his apartment, his room, his bed – in short, his rules. But it’s Eddie, so the fact that he’s made this decision without you only stokes the burning coals of disdain. Plus, the couch looked like the farthest thing from comfortable.

“Whatever,” you scoff. You weren’t going to let him know he was already creeping beneath your skin. You were playing the long game here; you were going to start off civil, keep track of just how many offenses he committed against you, and then strike back. “It’s just one night. I’ll live.”

“Unless I murder you!” his voice calls out to you and Steve from the kitchen.

“Unless he murders me,” you agree with a scowl.

Steve puts a caring hand on your shoulder, forcing a frown that’s completely insincere before he says, “What do you want on your gravestone? Also, what’s your preference for flowers at your funeral?” He breaks into laughter as you smack him roughly on his shoulder, “Sorry! Sorry, geez. Just want to have all my ducks in the row. I’ll be sure to ask him the same thing.”

Part of you is absolutely convinced this can only end in bloodshed. You can’t recall a single time you and Eddie have lasted more than ten minutes in a room together without escalating into a full blown screaming match. There was even a time you’d thrown a glass at him at one of Steve’s parties, narrowly missing his head as he’d ducked and let the glass shatter against the wall of the shared apartment with Robin. You’d felt awful remorse towards Steve in the end. As for Eddie? You’d only wished your aim had been better.

Steve disappears into the kitchen and you’re left alone once more, wandering as you inspect some of the collectibles more closely by the TV. Most items were from the Lord of the Rings franchise, a few Star Wars items, and an abundance of D&D figurines. All things that you went through phases of piqued interest for, but nothing terribly exciting. They had been just that – phases. Apparently, when it came to Eddie, such things didn’t exist. The apartment really just looked as if someone had taken a teenage boy’s room, and let it explode over more extensive square footage. As if he entered the typical phases for boys his age in high school, and never grew up.

Just as you reach out to grab one of the D&D figurines, a three-headed dragon, Eddie enters the living room with Steve at his side.

“Hey! Don’t fucking touch that!” Eddie shouts, making you jump back, finger no longer hovering over his glorified action figure.

“Jesus Christ!” you shout back just as loudly, glaring up at him, “Ever heard of an inside voice?”

He completely ignores the comment as his nostrils flare and he stands between you and the entertainment center, “We need to set some ground rules. Rule one, do not touch my shit, especially this stuff. They’re collectibles, fucking rare and crazy expensive. Keep your hands to yourself, princess.”

The nickname is a match, striking against the roughness of your hatred, ready to burst into the flames of one of the classic screaming matches between the two of you. Steve can see it clear as day.

He clears his throat immediately, “Alright, alright. Calm down, children,” you open your mouth to argue against that nickname, but he doesn't leave pause for you to interject, “I’m leaving now. I know we joked about you two killing each other but…. Just, please don’t? It’s not worth it. Think of the money.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, his eyes unmoving from you as you muster up just as hateful of a glare.

“Hey! Are you two listening to me?” he claps his hands, and the staring contest ends as you both reluctantly offer him your attention, “I’m serious. Who knows? Maybe you two can come out of this friends.”

Friends. The mere idea makes you cackle cruelly, Eddie balking immediately.

“As if,” you sneer as Eddie spits, “Over my dead body.”

Steve simply shrugs, “You say that now. We’ll see what changes over the next twenty four hours.”

Nothing, you want to say. Nothing is going to change over the next twenty four hours, except I’ll be five hundred dollars richer.

You join Eddie in walking Steve back to the door, even though you technically don’t have to because, technically, it’s not your apartment. But it’s still the polite thing to do, and Steve is still your friend, so you do.

Eddie opens the door, and you stand a few steps away from them, shifting back and forth on your feet awkwardly. Steve pauses to check the watch on his wrist before turning and facing the two of you a final time.

“Alright, so, it’s currently four-fifteen. That means you-” he pauses and points directly to you, “-need to send proof of you both being alive, well, and still together at five-fifteen. You guys can leave the apartment, but you have to go with each other, and you can’t ditch each other wherever you might end up going. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” you answer in monotone, Eddie not saying a word.

“Good. Oh, by the way,” Steve already has one foot out the door, and you know it’s deliberate. Whatever he’s about to say, you’re not going to be happy about, “Expect randomized calls from all of us throughout it all. Including through the night. Cool? Cool! See you guys tomorrow, and keep your phones charged!”

Both you and Eddie are already attempting to argue, immediately upset by this detail that was kept from both of you, but Steve is already jogging down the hallway, away from the chaotic outburst.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says in annoyance, his face twisted terribly, “I didn’t agree to be babysat during this. I just want my fucking money.”

Even though you were also seething at the additional rule, you opt instead to make a comment to get under Eddie’s skin rather than complain in agreement. “I think you forgot an F-bomb somewhere in there.”

“Oh?” he turns to you, letting the door slam shut as he swings his arm, “My fucking bad. I fucking guess I should fucking watch my fucking language, yeah? Fucking oops.”

“Has anyone told you you’re fucking annoying?” you ask in contempt.

“Yeah. You.”

He stalks away from his entry way at that, clearly pleased at getting the last word in this argument. And it nearly kills you, because you have no choice but to follow him back into his living room.

It’s going to be a long twenty four hours.

He’s clearly heading towards the couch to sit down, and you can’t fathom staying in close proximity for another moment, so you begin to veer towards the kitchen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks suddenly once your back is turned to him.

“The kitchen?” you glance over your shoulder, lifting an eyebrow, “Or is that not allowed?”

“Why are you going to the kitchen?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it’s my fucking apartment.”

Right. He has a point. You won’t tell him that, but he has a point.

He’s rerouted himself from the couch towards the hallway you’re about to enter, towering over you as his lips settle into a predictable frown.

“Can you go more than ten seconds without dropping an F-bomb? Seriously,” you question, crossing your arms, “I just want water or something. Is that a crime?”

“To answer your first question,” he shifts around your body in the tight space, his hand brushing your hip. Both of you jump back at the contact as if even touching each other burns, “No. I fucking can’t. Not when I know it bothers you so much, sweetheart,” he’s once again using a nickname he knows will irritate you on purpose as he walks into what you assume the kitchen is. And once again, you’re following behind him like a lost puppy, having to swallow your pride like a jagged pill, “Secondly, one of my rules is to not touch my shit, so… Yeah. It is a crime by the law of the land.”

“Law of the land?” you snort, rolling your eyes, “My God. What are you going to do? Call the police? ‘Hello, yes, 911? I’d like to report a crime. A girl I voluntarily let into my home got herself a glass of water.’”

You choose to purposefully pitch your voice higher rather than lower as you clearly mock him. It gets the reaction you were seeking out - his entire body stiffens as he stops in front of a cabinet.

“Congratulations,” he says slowly, turning at an agonizing pace to face you, “It’s a new record. It’s been less than five minutes alone, and you’ve already gotten on my fucking nerves.”

“Good,” is all you can reply.

He huffs in response before he goes back to whatever he was doing before, opening the cabinet to expose a small assortment of glasses and mugs alike. None of them match – all of them were clearly either bought at different times, or gifts, in the mugs case. They’re the type you might find at Spencer’s, all pop culture references or character faces. He grabs one of the smaller, plain clear cups, turning around to hand it to you.

Before your hand can wrap around it, he yanks it back momentarily, “Now, if you decide to throw this cup at my head like a raging bitch, it’s plastic. Minimal damage. Keep that in mind, yeah?”

Once he’s gotten in his smart-ass remark, he lets you take the cup from him.

So he’s also thinking of Steve’s party. Good to know.

“That’s fine. I’ve practiced my throws since then. I’m aiming for your crotch next time.”

If you two were friends, it might be funny. You would have said it in light-hearted cadence, he would have thrown his head back in laughter, and it could be passed off as a simple inside joke between two acquaintances. But you aren’t friends, and you say it in a convincingly serious tone, and he doesn’t even smile.

“You can get water from the fridge,” he informs you flatly, “Try not to break it.”

“It’s a fridge that dispenses water. I know how it works, asshole. I’ve used one before.”

“You never know,” he shrugs. You expect him to walk away, to leave you to it, but instead he leans against his counter and watches you.

And he thought he was the one being babysat over simple phone calls?

You choose to bite your tongue for once as you fill the cup half full of water, taking your time as you sip some down, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

It’s only been a few seconds of silence. Blissful, wonderful, divine silence. But of course, it’s Eddie, and the moment he notices you begin to relax, he has to speak up and ruin it.

“If I knew all it takes to shut you up is to keep your mouth occupied, sweetheart, I would have done it sooner,” he comments, and it takes practiced patience to slowly lower the cup and swallow what water is in your mouth without bursting with rage. But he has to comment on even that, “Aw, and you swallow? Just full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

You turn to him, face flooding a brilliant shade of red as your eyes narrow. In the most virulent tone you can muster, you only respond with, “I hate your guts.”

He grins. It’s not friendly – it’s downright bellicose. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Yeah. It’s going to be a very long twenty four hours.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #twenty four hours #there will be no y/n by the way haha #this was fun i love dropping this when i know half my mutuals are sleeping #happy friday or saturday depending on where you are!!

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k-slla · 3 months

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With You At Last

A/N: so I wrote this last night after work. I just had one song on repeat for the whole day and for some reason it made me think of Ben.

Song used for inspiration

Word Count : ~690

Pairing : Soldier Boy x Supe!Reader

Warnings: angst, language

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is appreciated 🤍

My Masterlist

You were there in Nicaragua, in 1984. You were there when Ben was taken from you. You were there when he was betrayed by your own team.

Actually, you couldn't say that they were your team, considering how Edgar kept you fighting from the sidelines, not putting you on the team. He did admit that you were and had always been very useful to them; you just didn't have…a certain appearance to be part of the official Payback team.

Those were his words to Ben, when he tried to get you on the team, to fight beside him. And as answer to Ben's boldness to question him and threaten to bring you to limelight, he spitefully coerced him to date the Countess for the tabloids. For showing his attitude.

And that fucking hurt. Seeing him with her on the covers of every magazine. Knowing that behind the closed doors he was yours, didn't help at all.

You knew that simple bullets couldn’t hurt him, but then again you didn’t know what could. So when you saw Ben being dragged away from the field, you assumed the absolute worst.

Everything around you collapsed. You were kneeling on the ground, completely shattered as you saw the rest of the team fleeing from the scene, clearly unbothered by the loss of their leader. All but Swatto, but even his death meant nothing to them, as long as they got rid of Soldier Boy. Or so at least it seemed to you.

Ben always hated the fact that you were kept in secrecy. He hated that you couldn't get the recognition that you deserved, just based on your looks.

"Who the fuck cares about our looks? " He had tried to reason with Edgar, who still wouldn’t budge, even after admitting your value to the team.

You had the power to manipulate people's perception. You were present on every battlefield beside Payback, helping them in the most useful ways with your ability. While Payback attacked, you deprived them from their physical awareness, so Ben and others could fight them without getting injured. To him, you were the one who made Payback’s conquests possible.

Ben honestly didn’t know what the fuck had happened that day. Everything went to shit in a split second. Mallory’s base was under attack and you were nowhere to be seen. And then there was nothing.

Until he woke up, restrained to some table, and about to be experimented on. For almost 40 years they held him there.

And all that kept him borderline sane during that time was you. And planning the payback for his former team. But all that was secondary next to you.

He had never thought that he’d ever find someone who would make him want to have something meaningful in his life. Something real. Something that no one would be able to take away from him. He just wanted you.

He wasn't even sure how he was capable of loving you as much as he did. He never received any love or affection from his father. Ben was abandoned, and had been alone since childhood. But he knew he loved you, otherwise he would have forgotten you. Otherwise he would’ve already given up on everything.

He waited for the day he’d finally be free. He knew it was coming and he’d be ready for that.

Still, his hope had started to waver, and he lost himself to loneliness. Hopelessness of seeing you ever again started to take power over his love for you in his mind. And he couldn't fight back to it.

After years of imprisonment and torture, Ben was certain that they had managed to kill him somehow. Or that he’d finally lost his sanity. He wasn't even sure which he would've preferred.

The air was knocked out of him when he saw you standing there in front of him. Even when you held him in your arms after all the years of being separated, he had a hard time believing that it was real. One kiss from you was all it took to convince him. It was real. You were real.

Finally, you had found him and he was not alone.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @il0vebeingdelulu @alternativeprincess94

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fic #ben x reader #x reader #x you #ben x you #jensen ackles #jensen ross ackles #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys one shot #Spotify

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doomsdaybby · 6 months

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Hey, sweet!

I had an idea like, eddie x gf!reader has a fight, it's not one of those super huge fights, but it's still a fight, so eddie leaves his trailer super angry, but when he comes back, he sees reader humping his pillow 🫣

eeee!!!! thankyou so so much for this request 😭 i’m so sorry for it taking this long. I got a little carried away, but I hope that it was worth the wait <3

I don’t proofread so if there’s any mistakes i’m sorrryyyy </3

cw: smut 18+ MDNI!!! oral (f receiving), weed mention

something sweet | eddie munson x gf!reader (2.7k words)

Eddie’s reeboks scuff against the dusty gravel path that led between the trailer park and the adjacent forest. The cool fall wind threatened to bite, just the tiniest amount, as he was blanketed by twinkling stars and one of the brightest moons that shone so brilliantly over the trailer park.

He had missed the fading hazes of plums, violets and roses bleed into the inky black sky above him of the late October evening. A view you both enjoyed together, the days coming to a close, on almost a nightly basis over chaste kisses and lazy comfortable conversation of how your days had gone.

It was just cool enough where the gentle breeze that rustled the changing fall leaves didn’t turn his fingers to ice, whilst still providing the welcome chill to Eddie’s blazing cheeks.

Opting to neglect his signature denim jacket that hung by the doorway back at the trailer, maybe it was for the best. His body was on fire, forehead a hot sticky mess despite the soft bite of looming colder nights.

It was rare that the two of you fought, even rarer to drive Eddie out of the trailer for an hour or two. The pair of you could never ‘agree to disagree’; someone had to be right, and the other had to be sorry.

Eddie had come home rather late post his regular weekly Corroded Coffin gig at The Hideout, a whole three hours late.

He had stumbled through the door still riding high on the lingering adrenaline from a particularly crowded gig, a little buzzed and far too cheery, the greeting of a cold laid out dinner and a seething girlfriend awaiting at his doorstep.

The unwelcome picture of you sat criss-crossed on the couch, arms tightly folded and a series of deep lines crumpling your forehead and brows, spoiling your pretty face, was one he feared to expect.

He had simply lost track of time, that was all.

Thus ensued raised voices and spitefully pointed fingers. Name-calling and an array of curses that had no meaning, ones only meant to hurt in that particular moment hurtled between you.

It wasn't a complete eruption though, both pent up with mix-matched emotions and clashing heads. You were just worn out and lonely.

He hadn't called to tell you. Did he even care that much to let you know he would be late?

Whereas Eddie felt somewhat disregarded, unsupported, walking through the door to such a buzzkill.

Were you even happy that they had a successful show? There would be so many more dinners, and countless future evenings to spend together. Could you not let him off just this once?

So both perceived that they were right, entitled to their titular emotions, and that an apology was owed. The problem lay that neither believed they needed to be sorry.

Of course this led to you petulantly slamming the bedroom door shut to shout a stream of profanity into the pillow, whilst Eddie kicked the front door closed with a heavy thud, pre-rolled blunt hanging loosely from his lips and hands busy tying his hair up in a messy bun.

So when Eddie’s wristwatch read 1:30am and his forehead didn’t pulse as wildly with pent up frustration, he decided it was about time to kiss and make up. Literally, if he was lucky. You were pretty pissed.

But what he wasn’t expecting was creaking open the bedroom door to find you with your thighs straddling his pillow, grinding down embarrassingly helpless against it.

Guess you weren’t that pissed after all.

He should have been hurt, surely? He leaves amidst an argument and he comes back to catch you pleasuring yourself? But fucking hell weren’t you just delicious.

The most beautiful little sounds were escaping your parted lips, faint moans muffled by the sheets beneath you. His name etched onto your tongue like quill ink to fresh parchment, gyrating your hips with fevered purpose, and all was forgotten.

You obviously hadn’t heard him come home, not with the Iron Maiden cassette filling your ears from across the room to set your mood, that and the flooding memories of Eddie’s low wines and breathy grunts. It was almost too much to bear.

Maybe you purposefully wanted him to catch you in the act? Vulnerable and pathetic. His head spun dizzy at the mere thought.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed rouge, the swift swelling of his cock against the material of his jeans becoming too uncomfortable to ignore.

The funniest part of it all is that Eddie knew far too well that solo masturbation wasn’t enough for you, either of you, for that matter.

The orgasm you could give yourself never compared to his touch; rough large palms knowing exactly how to strum you like a fine-tuned guitar, pillowed lips marking every inch of skin they could find, deft fingers tangled in your hair and pushing your thighs up to your chest to fold you in half.

So he watched for a minute or two, unable to deny the throbbing strain of his cock against the zipper.

His whole body was ablaze, absentmindedly rocking his groin along the doorframe for any sort of relieving friction.

He knew that you were getting close. That boy recited your body like his own personal bible, intimately acquainted with every stutter of your hips, every caught breath he had listened to as a hymn song.

He let out a barely held together sigh, lost in his own personal euphoria, teeth biting down on the inside of his bottom lip.

“Eds? You home, baby?” you called from the bedroom, stalling for a moment with your boyfriend's pillow still remaining perfectly placed between your thighs, before continuing a faint see-saw motion for some form of pleasure to linger within reach.

‘Baby’. You definitely weren’t mad anymore.

Eddie stood up straight from the doorway, knocking open the door with a breathy laugh. It was cocky, a hint of even disappointment clouding his tone.

More of a ‘you are in very big trouble’ sort of disappointment, and you had grown very accustomed to that laugh. Just as you recognised that exact arrogant grin he pulled as he entered the room.

“Are you having fun there, my sweetheart?” he pointed to the pillow still prisoned within your thighs.

I mean, could he blame you? It smelt too much like him, in too many glorious ways - the smoky amber of his cheap cologne, the faint remnants of cigarettes and weed, sticky scents of sweat-sheened skin during summer nights.

It encompassed him completely, and it was downright intoxicating.

“Mhm… missed you” your eyes rounded, peering up at him from the bed with big doll eyes and fluttering pretty lashes, giving the pillow another drawn out grind. Eddie sighed something filthy again at the vulgar sight, his hand snaking down to palm at his painful erection.

“I can see that,” another smug chuckle, shaded sinister in its undertone. “Lay on your back for me, baby. You really thought you would be able to cum without me?”.

Of course you obliged, it was close to humiliating how quickly you discarded the pillow and spread out all sweetly on the bed for him.

Ready and waiting, always at his beckon call.

Eddie relished every moment of it, and holy fuck, he nearly unravelled at the sight of your slick sticking to his pillow, glossy and sweet. Just the same as it pooled to the center of your panties.

The mattress dips where Eddie begins his climb onto the bed, warms hands wandering and anything but chaste, spread fingers mapping the exposed skin of your legs and thighs like new land amongst an uncharted ocean.

Then came the kisses, cupping your trembling flesh, smoothing and squeezing with every loving peck. They were sweet, filled with unbridled affection and pouring with many ‘I love you’s’.

“So pretty,” he murmured with charm, hot breath fanning further and further up to exactly where you needed him, walls clamping down and cunt fluttering with want.

Eddie was never shy with his fondness, ever so syrupy sweet and dripping with candy-covered charisma.

He was tender, nosing at the delicate skin of your upper thigh.

You huff out a shaky laugh when his lips reach the cotton of your underwear, barely exposed teeth grazing the elastic of your waistband.

“Are you mad at me?” The words came out overstrung, considering you were wound tight from your earlier near release and assorted with the anxiety you had upset him, your beating heart had been sent into complete overdrive.

Eddie paused, peering up at you through thick lashes, eyes foggy and filled with a gaze as rosy-colored as cloud nine.

“Not anymore,” he was soothing with it, still very matter of fact, “Are you mad at me?”.

Another kiss, yet this one was loaded with more heat and open-mouthed, sloppy in its delivery, therefore focusing on an answer went out the window in an instant.

Squeezing the warmed dough of your inner thighs, Eddie suckles with purpose, a little mean with his technique but the attentiveness remained nonetheless.

“Not anymore,” you managed in a faltering exhale, hissing a little through your teeth at the feeling of teeth to tender skin.

Eddie hummed, all fingers and thumbs sliding under elastic and cotton, settling his palms beneath your panty line right atop the plush of your hips.

Deft fingertips nursed the hills of flesh there, and Eddie’s attention abandoned your thighs now in favor of that inviting puddle between your legs.

You inhaled hard, the contact of his nose swiping along your clothed bud eliciting a sharp pitched moan, probably one a tad too dramatic for the mere ounce of connection, but Eddie’s mouth pulled into a grin and suddenly you didn't feel conscious about it.

“Pent up, aren't we?” Eddie teased with a pant, hot breath washing up along your exposed abdomen.

You wiggled in response under a hidden giggle, palms shielding your face as you nodded, Eddie’s large hands keeping you spread open for him.

He pressed down to open you up a little more, straightened out farther enough for a peak of that building wetness at your entrance to escape past your panty line.

“Promise you’re not mad?’ Eddie mumbles, more serious and genuine, plush lips tickling the now bruised spot on your thigh to keep you sweet, catching some of your slick with the tip of his tongue, a creeping hand stroking the mound of your naked pussy.

You hiss in a sharp breath through your teeth, rolling your hips into his palm the faintest amount that you can considering his weight.

“Promise,” You bit back a moan, determined to hang on to at least a shred of dignity, hands covering your thrumming cheeks when Eddie finally pulled your underwear to the side, rapid inhaling and exhaling creating erotic movement of your chest.

His eyebrows raise in unison for a moment, a ‘thought so’ sort of gesture. Smug fucker. You could have mentioned it, but the feeling of his wet tongue dipping into the dripping well of your entrance had a breath catching in your throat.

You were sick with it; the already building pressure at the base of your tummy, his searching tongue lapping at your slick folds, crude sopping sounds eliciting from the dip and drag of Eddie’s mouth up and down, up and down.

Finally he finds your clit, taking it kindly between his lips and sucking with true intention. Another moan slips free, shaking beneath his heated touch. It was too much yet not enough.

Completely giddy and nerve endings alight, Eddie’s fingers dig cruelly into the swell of your hips when they begin to lift up off the mattress, escaping his motions whilst never wanting them to end.

Fat melts and molds under Eddie’s touch, yanking a little rough to pull your cunt closer into his waiting mouth.

He suckles and licks, prods and flicks, flattening his tongue every so often to drag from your weeping hole to your clit, collecting every smear of wetness in his path.

“Eddie” you dragged out in a whine, fingers smoothing the loose strands of his hair from his face to see him clearly.

Your boy looked so so pretty. All glass-eyed and heavy lidded, his cheeks dusted baby pink. You could clearly see his tongue lapping at your clit, panting open-mouthed and head bobbing with every stroke.

He looked even prettier with his locks of hair coming loose from the hair tie he’d messily strewn it up in, your fingers aching to delve into every nook, nails seeking scalp.

Though the building release came hurtling quicker when Eddie focused his attention to the very tip of your bud, flicking with precision, pressing the perfect amount.

Eddie groans wicked when you begin to roll your hips, a sheen of spittle and arousal coating around his lips. His chin must be a mess, Eddie knows this for sure as the mixture begins to dribble down the column of his throat.

“Please” you beg, eyes squeezed shut, chasing the building orgasm. “Don’t stop, Eddie, please”.

Eddie mumbles a ‘nuh uh’ against your swollen bud, the added vibrations bringing you closer to the edge, not once changing his pace or rhythm.

He would never, he wouldn’t dare stop. One of Eddie’s favorite things was to watch you completely unravel because of him. His touch, his tongue, his cock.

He knows you’re close, having intricately mesmerized every crease at the corner of your eyes when you were tasting that peak, how your mouth hangs open in concentrated silence.

You almost looked pained, desperate. If he stopped now he wouldn’t see the sunrise. So Eddie instead uses two thumbs to spread your pussy wider, soft clit jutting out and easier to zone in on.

What he really wanted to do was lean back and admire how puffy and wet you were, but you were closing your thighs around his head and pulling him closer by the roots of his hair.

You chanted his name in an ever growing pitch, higher and higher until you were crashing down.

Eddie anchored you to the bed, moaning alongside you as you came in tidal waves onto his tongue. He almost busted in his jeans at the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard you fucking make.

Your aching legs shook around him, that pained expression on your face morphing into agony. But everything was pure bliss.

Eddie slowed his lapping, guiding you back down to earth, eventually transitioning into the smallest kitten licks until you were pushing him away with enclosed fists.

He grinned, a throbbing tent in his pants and a little too pleased with himself. Some overstim every now and then never hurt anyone.

Through bleary half-lidded eyes, you watched as Eddie crawled back into view. Long brunette curls tickled your cheeks, his soaked fingers teasing the edge of your lips.

One by one, Eddie pressed the pads of his fingertips against your wet tongue that was already waiting for him at the part of your mouth, gradually edging the digits in.

Without him needing to ask, you sucked, and you sucked well. A groan of appreciation rumbling in his chest, eyes glued heavy-lidded to the swirl of your tongue and hollow of your cheeks. He reveled in your submission.

You granted him purchase there, settling his plush wet lips just behind your earlobe, against that one particular soft spot to suck hazes of blue and purple similar to that of the midnight sky out the window.

He was a whisper in your ear, gooseflesh rising on your arms and the fire reigniting in your abdomen. “Now get on your knees for me”.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson request #my fics #doomsdaybby

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tswhiisftteedr · 4 months

Text

Hair Prank! ☆ One Shot

☆Dorm Leader!Vil Schoenheit x Choatic!Pomfiore Student!Female!Reader:

After pulling a prank causing Vil’s appearance to change, you try to your best to run away from his now angered self. But isn’t hate and love two side of the same coin, at least passion wise…

Warnings: Making out, Graphic language, suggestive tones but nothing happens. Not proofread.

Note: This is based from this ask, also I’m sorry I didn’t know how to incorporate the clothing style into the fic, maybe I’ll rewrite it. Sorry again, but I hope you still like it! Mentions of Yuu but reader is not them.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

☆ More under the cut. ☆

It was your daily dance lesson after school with Vil as your instructor. Epel had skipped out on practice, making your strict instructor, even stricter than the usual due to his irritation. But his constant critique of your technique was getting on your nerves.

"You made a mistake again. We'll start from the beginning once more," Vil sighs as he walks over to the speaker. On his phone, he restarts the same song that you've been dancing to in your lessons.

Ever since being assigned to Pomefiore, your life had been but relaxing. Being the only official female student admitted this year, after the school board had decided to transition from an all-boys to a unisex school, you were sure to attract eyes, Vil’s included. In his mind he would’ve brought you by his side to unlock your potential, even if you’d have been assigned to another dorm. But goody him, as the dark mirror had chooses to put you in his care. But to you it was all a waste of time and energy, you already did skincare and took care of yourself, you truly needed him to interject. Well that was your opinion, but it was plain obvious that it wasn’t his.

Even when you had try to coax him into taking Yuu under his wing instead of yourself, bless her heart, he had shot down the idea right in front of her. Saying something along the line that she was too much of a potato to be able to shine the way he was sure he’ll make you do.

"Don’t even think about, don’t you dare try to leaving again," he turns to glare at you. You were so close to the exit... It's like he had eyes behind his head.

“Lisent Vil. hon’, darling.” You say to him with a faux kindness and sympathy “You’re really starting to piss me off.” You continue, but this time, with a tone of voice that actually carried your sentiments.

"Shut it!" Vil's face is full of disgust. He cannot stand how easily you dismiss his words as if they don't carry any weight at all.

"I don't care how hard it is or how much you despise dancing," he continues in a demanding voice, "You WILL become an ideal beauty or else..."

“Or what my ‘Queen’? Gonna make me dance on hot burning coal, maybe carve my face off and place it on Mannequin head so you can play dress up with it, or make me all old and wrinkly with one your potions as a punishment, yeah the third one seems more like your style. You pussy.” You say to him spitefully, following it with a snicker.

His eyes widen with anger as he steps closer to you, invading your personal space. "Do you have any idea what I'm capable of doing to you?"His tone is cold and threatening.

“Oh I don’t know, since you actually never do shit. You just talk and talk, you must really like the sound of your own voice, and not in the regular person type of way, no that’s not it, you like it and yourself in the narcissistic type a way, you probably get off on simply hearing the sound of your own voice or looking at your reflection.” You continue taunting him, with a snicker that is irritating the shit out of him.

Vil's anger boils over as he grabs your arm sharply and pulls you up against his body. "I warn you. Never, EVER insult my ego again. I'm done taking your attitude lightly. The next sentence you utter from your pathetic mouth had better be filled with an apology. Do you understand me, worm?"

As he says that you secretly take out a pouch full of powder out of your many pants pockets. ‘Cargo pants are the best’ you think to yourself. The powder was enchanted, it made the person it lands on, temporarily change hair colour, about 24 hours.

As he finishes, “I’m sorry Vil,” you tell him apologetically. But in the reality of things, gears wear turning in your mind. “I’m really sorry about this!” you shout at him, as you open the pouch and throw the contents of it on Vil. The shock from the situation causes Vil to let you go, and you start booking it, running out of the room as fast as possible. “See ya later handsome!” You say teasingly, knowing he would be displeased with his current appearance.

Vil's eyes widen as his beautiful blonde locks turn a dark shade of purple. His face grows contorted in outrage as he screams, "Get back here!" without thinking of the fact you've probably already left.

Suddenly, his expression turns into one of disbelief and horror. Vil looks at himself in the mirror. His heart skips a beat as he takes in his new look. "... No," he says in a strained voice.

After leaving the dorm through the magic mirror, you head towards the Ramshackle to tell Yuu and Grim about what had transcended, and probably Epel too, that’s were he usually hides to skip out on Vil’s lessons.

Meanwhile, Vil is still looking at himself in the mirror with a shocked expression on his face. After what felt like hours, Vil finally begins to process what just happened. "I can't believe she did this to me."

Vil's mind races as his hands tremble slightly. He clenches his fists in anger as he thinks to himself, "That girl... that ungrateful, selfish little...!"

You were sat on a couch in the Ramshackle, retelling the events to Epel and Grim, Yuu wasn’t there, apparently she was with the Ignihyde dorm leader right now.

“And then he grabbed me, and I was like literally against him, body to body type of shit. He started going on about ‘Never’ insult his ego again and that the next words that came out of my mouth should be ones of apology.” I tell them,

“So he at did you do next??” Epel asks, wondering if this story was headed where he anticipated it to go, after all he was the one who helped you craft the magic powder.

“Well then I secretly pulled out the beautiful, hair color changing magic powder we crafted, I was all like ‘I’m sorry Vil’. After I opened the pouch the powder was in and threw it on him, with a ‘I’m sorry for this!’. The look of horror on his face was priceless.” You tell them with a victorious laugh.

Grim raises an eyebrow as he listens to your retelling of the event and lets out a sarcastic chuckle at your story. "You must've really struck a nerve." He turns to look at Epel and prompts him to respond to the story.

Epel nods eagerly. He looks excited as he waits for you to continue.

“After everything I ran away to come to you guys, but as I was leaving I could his screech in the distance lol”

Grim begins laughing heartily. "I bet you could hear him all the way from here, huh?"

In the distance, you could still hear Vil's shouts of anger. Grim and Epel continue to laugh at your hilarious prank.

But then you all simultaneously realized that it was impossible to hear his voice, since the magic mirror connecting each dorm to campus didn’t project noise for within the dorm. This meaning only one thing, Vil was here on campus and he was headings towards you…

The laughter quickly dies down as the three of you come to terms with the fact that Vil had just followed you here. Grim gets up to brace himself for a confrontation. "Well, it seems our little game has finally caught up to us," he says in a resigned tone.

A little bit earlier,

Vil was standing in front of a mirror, trying his best to hide his new appearance in a hood, in order not to attract too much attention(too bad the angered noise he was making did the opposite affect). He thinks back to the incident, a look of rage and embarrassment on his face. "That girl thinks that she can one-up me, does she?"

His face curls in anger, "She's going to pay for humiliating me!” he shouts to himself. Vil turns away from the mirror and quickly leaves the room to find you. He then heads towards the lounge of the dorm to pass through the mirror chamber and arrives campus, he guessed you probably wouldn’t have stayed on dorm site with the stunt you just pulled.

Now back to the present.

Vil is walking through campus, his mind full of thoughts ranging from fury and rage to confusion and disbelief. As he walks through the crowds, he tries his best to maintain a neutral or at least stern expression in order to not draw attention to himself.

Vil finally reaches the Ramshackle and he takes off his hood, deciding to face you and whoever was in there without hiding himself. Still, he is visibly pissed as he glares at the thought you.

You hear knocking. And you shush your to friends up, you’re now as quite as mouses.

There is a moment of silence as you hear Vil knock again on the door. His voice can be faintly heard, "Open the damn door, girl! I know you're in there!" The knocking then become more aggressive as he continues, "Come out here this instant!"

It felt like he was going to soon break the door down, so while he continue his knocking you sneakily left the ramshackle through a window at the back.

Vil grows even louder upon realizing that you aren't responding to his calls and knocks. He starts banging on the door in a fit of rage. "I know you’re in there! Come on out. Now!"

He decides that he had enough of the wait, and breaks the door down with magic not damage his manicure, he was still an actor and beauty influencer afterall.

But you was obliviously gone by then, Vil steps into the ramshackle, seeing his two classmates sitting before him. His eyes narrow as he searches the room for any signs of you. He looks at Grim and Epel with disdain and contempt in his eyes. "Where is she?" His voice is demanding.

“We don’t know.” They tell him at the same time.

Vil's eyes flicker with annoyance as the two of them blandly lie to him. "She can't have simply vanished off the face of the world." His tone is angry and condescending. He knows what they are doing and he knows that you are nearby, or at least that was what he thought in the moment. He walks right up to the two of them, his presence imposing itself as he gets closer.

But then Vil decided that it was a waste of time to talk to them, they were only going to back you up afterall, probably give him wrong information. So he decides to search around for you instead. As he snoops around, he sees that the back window was open, then he realized how that’s the way you made your escape.

By then you was already far away, in the mirror chamber, making your way to Savanaclaw to hideout.

As Vil paces around the ramshackle to collect his thoughts on where you could’ve gone and what to do now. He over hears Epel and Grim whispering to each other.

“So you think she made it there already?” Epel asks grim, “Yeah she probably at Savanaclaw by now.” Grim answers him.

What had happened was that, when Vil was still knocking you had whispered to them about your plan to go and hideout at the warmed temperature dorm, before you had made your escape.

Vil's eyes narrow as he watches Grim and Epel converse with each other. He has a strong suspicion of what they are talking about based on their demeanor. "She thinks she's funny. And these two idiots are helping her." Vil mumbles to himself.

He walks over to the window once more and looks outside to see if you is anywhere in sight. When he sees the empty space, his rage only grows in intensity. His face contorts into a bitter scowl as he clenchs his hands into fists.

By now you had a pack of candy in hand, trying to bribe Ruggie into letting you stay in his dorm for cover.

Vil walks back over to Grim and Epel after not being able to spot you anywhere.

He glares at both of them while trying his best to restrain his temper. "So, you decided to help her with her little prank? What a surprise you two were so happy to assist an ungrateful little girl in humiliating me."

Vil glares at the two of them one more time as he storms out of the ramshackle.

Meanwhile, you're still bribing Ruggie with candy. "Let me hide in your dorm, and I'll give you this candy." Your words are accompanied by an innocent smile.

By the time he had arrived to Savanaclaw, you were already well hidden in Ruggie’s room, more specifically, under his bed.

Vil searches all over the Savanaclaw dorm building, but he can't find any trace of you. "Where is she hiding? I KNOW she's around here somewhere!" Vil thinks, as his anger grows. He starts pacing back and forth in front of the dorm with gritted teeth.

Vil's eyebrows twitch and his jaw clenchs tightly as he sees Savanaclaw dorm leader, Leona Kingscholar lying down on a nice sofa, without a care in the world. He glares as his eyes narrow. "Have you seen a student named F/n L/n around here by any chance?"

“Why? Did your favourite doll go missing?” The lazy lion teases with his eyes still closed.

Vil rolls his eyes. His patience is worn thin by this point. The mere mention of that stupid nickname makes his blood boil. "This is no game Kingscholar. Have you seen her or not?!"

“Hm? I see, well I can tell you that i saw her talking to Ruggie about staying in his dorm about 15 minutes ago, though I don’t know if he actually accepted or not.” He tells him nonchalantly not wanting the angry dorm leader to pester him even more, rolls around ready to back to his nap.

Vil sighs with frustration. He knows he can't go into Ruggie's room to look without possibly getting into trouble. "Damn it all." Vil thinks. His tone is sarcastic and irritated as he responds. "Oh really? You think he let her in?"

“Don’t know, don’t care, maybe he did, but she had some candy on her person, and that guy sure loves free food.” Leona finishes, before falling back asleep.

‘Of course she would offer him candy. Something she’s not even supposed to have if she was properly following the meal plan I made for her! She really is an absolute menace.’ Vil thinks with a scoff, his tone dripping with cynicism.

Vils asks around for Ruggie’s dorm number as Leona already headed back to sleep before he could ask anymore questions.

As he arrives at the room Vil knocks on the door a bit sharply, making it clear that he is not happy to be outside of Ruggie's dorm in the first place.

It seems he's already lost a ton of patience and is becoming more agitated with each passing moment. His face is twisted into a scowl as he waits for someone to answer.

“Yes?” Ruggie asks as he slightly opens the door.

Vil's eyes narrow even more, it's not a good sign. His tone is tight and impatient as he responds. “I'm looking for someone. They were supposed to be here. Have you seen anyone by the name of f/n l/n?"

“Maybe, what’s in it for me if if tell you?” He says to him with his signature snicker.

Vil scoffs in annoyance, this situation was growing even more aggravating for him. He was used to being in the upper hand, being the one to call the shots. Now he's reduced to begging some low-life delinquent for information about someone that should be under his jurisdiction. Vil is NOT pleased. "Oh come on, will you stop with your nonsense already? This is serious business." He tries to coax him but Ruggie doesn’t budge.

Vil's anger grows stronger but he refrains himself from lashing out. ‘This insolent bastard. As if the information is wordly classified. What a selfish prick.’ Vil thinks. "Fine. What do you want?" His tone is tense, he's gritting his teeth as he asks him.

“Well, you got something tasty for me?” Ruggie inquires, after candy is great and all but it doesn’t have a long lasting effect for soothing hunger. So he would be opposed to selling you out if he got something better than the sweets you gave him, in exchange.

Vil sighs in annoyance. He's not the type to give in to someone else's childish demands. But he must admit that these demands are quite reasonable for someone like Ruggie. ‘Of course he wants sweets.’ Vil thinks. ‘I'll play his stupid game.’ "I suppose I could spare a small piece of candy or two. Would that be enough to get a straight answer from you?" He offers the hyena beastmen.

“One or two pieces? You got to better than that, afterall I got a full bag of them for my silence. Buying me dinner is bare minimum for what you’re asking.” Ruggie shoot down his proposal,

Vil's eyes narrow as he frowns. He can't believe this stupid bastard has the nerve to ask him for this much. But he's running out of options. Reluctantly, he nods his head in defeat. "Dinner. Alright, whatever you want. Just give me an answer already."

“Okay then!” He snickers once more. “You can look around my room for her, if you want, but that’s it.” He tells Vil.

Vil sighs in annoyance. He can't believe he has to stoop this low. He glances at Ruggie with disdain as he responds. "That is absolutely ridiculous, you know that right?"

“I don’t know what your talking about~” The hyena says, then heads out.

Vil's eyes twitch in annoyance as he searches the room for the slightest hint of your presence here. However, the room is in its usual state of messiness, making it impossible for a casual observer to find anything of value. Vil seems more agitated than before as he continues to look for you. He even opens the closet to look for you in there. He was about to head out until you accidentally made a noise.

Vil pauses mid search, hearing the noise he heard. He turns his head in your direction, instantly knowing that the little sound he heard was due to you. He glares at the location from where the sound came from. "I know you're under that bed little girl," he says, his tone sarcastic as he addresses you, his scowl only growing in intensity.

But you decide to play with him more, and stay quiet.

Vil steps forward, getting closer to the bed. He stands up and leans over it, looking under it. The scowl on his face is so intense, his expression is almost terrifying. He spots your body hiding under the bed and glaces down at you. "I know you're in there, so you can come out now. Or do you prefer me making that decision for you?" He asks and his tone is angry and condescending.

But even after being caugh, you don’t say anything or more for about 3 minutes, so Vil drags you out from under the bed by the ankles. An expression of satisfaction covers his face. He was getting tired of this game. Vil's eyes glare at you, his expression a mix of irritation and annoyance. The moment he has you in his grasp is when he finally speaks. "Now listen, I've had enough of this. You're coming with me."

“Whatever, you’re no fun” tell him, still messing with his temper.

"You think this is supposed to be fun? This was never meant to be entertaining. I just want to get the job done." Vil glares at you, his tone becoming even more agitated. "Now stop your pathetic whining and get moving."

As you were heading back to Pomefiore, you had decided to pull another stunt, by ‘pulling’ hood down. His new hair colour in plain view for all students to see. That pissed him off so he drag you to his room to scream your ear off…

Vil was already getting impatient, and your actions only made him even more irritated. The moment he gets you into his dorm, he locks the door behind you and starts glaring at you once again. His tone is stern and cold as he speaks to you. "Just what did you think you were doing? You think you're clever, but you're nothing but a nuisance."

“Chill out, it was just a joke.” You tell him, not taking him seriously at all.

Vil's eyes flicker in a mixture of frustration and rage as you talk back to him. He stares down at you, his eyes narrowing to narrow slits. He can't possibly find any aspect of you or your actions to be amusing at all, instead he feels only a deep loathing and hatred. His tone is harsh as he responds. "Oh you think this is some sort of joke? That you can just get away with messing with me like this"

“Yeah, pretty much.” You say nonchalantly.

Vil's fist tightens as he glares at you, a vein on his forehead is visibly twitching. His eyes are so intense that they seem like they can burn right through you. His tone is filled with cold and hatred, he's getting angrier by the second. His lips curl up in disgust as he responds. "Listen to me. You think you have been annoying enough, but trust me. I can make you suffer worse in a million ways. So I suggest you stop being such an irritating little girl and start behaving properly."

“God, you’re so hot when you’re mad.” You admit out of nowhere, looking up at him with mischief.

Vil stares down at you with sheer disgust and disbelief. He can't believe that you would actually tell him something so ridiculous, let alone at a time like this. His eyes narrow and his jaw tightly clenches. "Are you out of your mind? Just who do you think you're talking to?" his tone is harsh and condescending, his scowl is even more intense now.

“Duh, I’m taking to the hottest and sexiest man in all of Pomefiore.” You keep pushing.

Vil seems stunned by your ridiculous compliment, his eyes flicker with rage once again and he snarls at you. "Do you think you are actually seducing me? There is not a single thing about you that I find attractive or appealing. So if you have nothing of value to say, I suggest you shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

“Please do so, I’d love to how this scenario could escalate into something more spicy~” You tell him.

Vil's eyes narrow as he raises an eyebrow. He can't believe how bold you have become now that you were in his room, behind locked doors. He glares at you in indignation, unable to hide his disdain for your actions. "That's it. I had enough. You want spicy? Than spicy it shall become"

Perhaps it was the want to put you in your place, perhaps it was it was the fact that Vil had been crushing on you for quite a while but didn’t confess because your antics, or perhaps it was just a spurt of the moment type of thing that cause Vil do to do what he did.

In one swift motion, Vil grabs you and pins you against the wall.

“Yeah, I like we’re this is going” You say not letting up the teasing.

Vil stares down at you with a fiery-glow in his eyes. His voice becomes smooth as his tone grows more intimate. One of his hands moves down your body to grab you by the waist, holding you close to him. "You really do know how to push my buttons, you little pest."

“It’s one my best traits”

Vil lets his thoughts go wild and allows himself to surrender to the rush of emotions that are overwhelming him right now. His facial expressions soften as his grip on you becomes a little bit looser, he's more relaxed now. His tone is almost as silky as his skin."Perhaps, that is one of your best traits. Perhaps, you are more than just some troublemaking little thing."

“So are y’a going to kiss me or just stare at my dazzling face.” You say with a wink.

Vil pauses for a moment. His eyes are darkening and his lips curl up in a slight smirk. He leans down until he can feel your breath on his skin. His voice is a husky whisper. "Oh, I'm definitely about to kiss you alright. But not because you requested it, but because I wanted to."

Vil's lips press themselves against yours with a lot of force, almost as if he can't wait to get a taste of you, and of course the emotions of anger you caused the man. His tongue quickly moves into your mouth and his hands wrap themselves around you in tight grips. His body is plastered against you, and every movement he makes is smooth like butter. His kisses are passionate and full of aggression, but somehow still very tender. He moans, his sounds being low and husky.

Vil pulls away, his breathing is heavy and he looks you deep in the eyes. The expression on his face is calm and tranquil now, his lips curling into a light smile."You know, you're not so bad after all. Your ability to get me so riled really is quite fascinating."

“Thanks! So are you still mad me my queen?” You inquire.

Vil laughs softly, his voice is almost a purr. A playful grin forms on his lips as he responds. "Mad? No, I don't think that's correct anymore. Irritated? Yes, very much so. After what you did earlier, it'll take a lot more than this to compensate for that."

“I guess I’ll get punished tomorrow, huh. But it doesn’t seem so bad of a though anymore.” You say to him all sweetly.

Vil smirks, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He's starting to get used to your antics and is starting to respond with sarcasm. “Oh, you bet I'll have lots of fun with you tomorrow. I think I've found the right kind of punishment for you. And I'll make sure that I'm really thorough."

“Oh yes, I wonder what the big bad evil queen will do me as for punishment.” You say semi-seductively, it’s more to mess with him then anything else.

“Well starting with extra dance practice to make up for today sounds like a plan.” He states, shooting down any type of sensuality that might been a couple seconds prior.

“Oh come on!” You complained.

Thanks @bananaseq for requesting!

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102 notes · View notes

bonefall · 3 months

Note

What do you think about the sneak peek of Wind? I saw Breezepelt acting somewhere between "little shit" and "actually concerned" and I lost it he owns my heart

I took a while to distance myself a bit from the preview because I REALLY didn't like it when I first read it. And now after taking some time to think about it, I know for sure that I honestly, truly do not like it or the direction the arc is going in.

This is book 5 and it feels like they've barely made any progress on the character arcs, how are they going to wrap them up in 1 more book? It looks like they're doing the worst possible thing with the Nightsun pairing, playing it without any problems. They've made a bunch of characters guzzle stupid juice so Splashtail could take power. It even seems like they SPITEFULLY wrote the whole society of the Clans turning on Frostpaw for doing a confrontation without the Updated Autopsy Report prepared, because for some reason all of these cats are little lawyers when it comes to moving the plot along

And for fuck's sake! What's the POINT of these super special sacred pilgrimages they send cats on if they're NEVER believed when they come home? This isn't even the first time that we've wasted an entire book on a StarClan Quest for a revelation that could have taken a single chapter. And now we're going to get an agonizing book of filler arguments to convince the Clans that Frostpaw wasn't lying about someone she has no motive to lie about otherwise

(The "motive" that Splashtail suggests is that she, child, is actually delusional about romantic interest in him, adult. She "got the wrong idea" when he got eeextra close to her and was suuuper emotionally invested in her after totally learning Curlfeather was evil when she was whispering her evil plans in her sleep. Im putting this on in the Cringe Compilation next to "A fox scratched Bumble to death after I left and came back 3 times")

They've suddenly introduced a theme OUT OF NOWHERE about how Curlfeather and Splashtail hate god, replying to the previous arc that says "StarClan makes mistakes" with "ATHEISTS BAD!"

I feel like Breezepelt is the carrot I was offered by a granny holding a knife behind her back. Save me Breezepelt. Breezy-P save me

#This is like. Catastrophically bad to me #God I still really feel like this arc started off so strong too u_u #At least breeze is cute though I do have a little nitpick with his cameo too #But it's a nitpick #These things I mentioned are large problems in my eyes #Asc spoilers

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

Omg pt. ii to more jason drama??

Continued directly from here:

Jason's hands are trembling, and he hates himself for it. For all of this.

For everything.

"I don't need anything," he lies to the one thing he needs more than anything.

He's never had that thing, so does it even matter?

"Then how about you just tell me what you want?" Dick asks kindly. Jason wants to hit him. Jason wants him to say his name and tell him it was all a mistake and he's missed him so much and he thinks about him all the time and just wants him back and–

Jason grits his teeth.

"Nothing anyone's ever gonna give me," he says much, much more bitterly than he means to.

He should just say he needs a heat clinic. Just say he needs a little help getting there. Then Dick could tail him to the nearest one and would think he'd done his stupid fucking do-gooder job and Jason could just suffer in fucking peace until this miserable nightmare of a late-bloomer first heat burns through.

He should do that.

He's going to do that.

Why isn't he doing that?

"Let me try," Dick murmurs gently, and Jason grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his arms painfully, but not painfully enough. "C'mon. What do you want, big guy?"

"Wanna sit on your knot," Jason whines like the absolutely pathetic bitch that he is, because he really is that fucking stupid. Dick . . . hesitates. Jason doesn't flatter himself by pretending it's because he's actually considering the idea of letting him.

"I'm a beta," Dick lies, because that's the lie every Bat tells, no matter if it's actually a lie or not, and Jason bares his teeth at him.

"No, you're a fucking liar," he hisses spitefully. "Can't even keep the goddamn rumble out of your throat when you're talking to me and you think I'd buy that?"

And even if he were actually deaf or stupid enough to have missed that entirely and unsubtly alpha sound or scent-blind enough to believe the bland artificial pheromones sprayed all over Dick's blockers, it's not like he fucking forgot. Not like he forgot the dizzy overheated way Dick's pheromones used to make him feel when he was too damn young to even understand what it was that he was feeling, much less the way his own stupid body had always ached to be able to respond to them.

The way it apparently could respond to them now, if Dick weren't currently all wrapped up in Nightwing's armor.

#dickjay #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #omegaverse #not sfw #tigertigertigertime #rinfic #wip: the one where omegaverse fucks up red hood's life

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godasfarasyoureconcerned · 1 year

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thinking about izzy and jim enemies-to-father/child practicing sword fighting together because he’s baffled by their bladework and they know there’s nobody better with a sword

thinking about izzy forcing jim to fight for the practice, to make them sharper. him pressuring them into it, coming at them with something wider than they can dodge, so they’re forced to meet his blade with theirs

thinking about jim fighting back because izzy is fucking attacking them on top of everything else they’re suffering through on the ship. about them eventually realizing “fuck it’s kinda fun to let off steam like this” as they hiss at izzy and metal clashes against metal. them begrudging at first but he’s incessant. an attack could come at any time. always be prepared. them eventually coming to find themselves looking forward to practicing their sparring

thinking about them surprising izzy with how quickly they learn. about him smiling from the floor up at them as they finally land a hit that knocks him flat on his ass. about their hair wild in their face, the hat knocked from their head during the fight, but smirking down at him in this light, they look like a younger version of edward

thinking about that realization almost sending him spiraling. that they look like edward from his vantage point at the end of their blade. that he might’ve made a mistake. that he might’ve made a whole series of mistakes, and that on top of everything, if jimenez outpaces him he’s basically signing his own death warrant since they’re young and spry and should he even be doing this? should he invest time into this stupid fucking project of his? should he make jimenez a more despicable person just to make them a better pirate? jimenez is too fucking good for this. fuck them. fuck me. fuck edward. fuck everything

thinking about jim smiling at his smile, sneering about how he looks on the floor. but when there’s something suddenly sad and strained in his eyes, panicky even, lowering their blade, because they aren’t blackbeard. thinking about them asking what the fuck his problem is. about them already knowing. just forcing him to admit it to himself here on the floor at the end of their knife

thinking about them addressing each other as “hands” and “jimenez” for a few lessons before the first names are brought up spitefully. about jim spitting “izzy” like it’s poison, to get under his skin and make him hiss “that’s first mate hands, dog!” thinking about izzy sneering “jim” like it tastes bad in his mouth, to hurt the feelings they care less about hiding than he does and make them hesitate before their next strike. but neither of them have to say “blackbeard” during these fights, and neither of them ever dare say “edward” except in their nightmares, so it’s really a reprieve

thinking about those names taking on different tones eventually. about izzy for once saying “c’mon, jim— you forget where your left foot goes?” but it’s more endearing than it’s ever been. about jim saying “oh, that’s rich coming from izzy nine-toes” but it’s half an invitation for more. and izzy biting at the bait, spitting “what’s your excuse, then?” as he swings his sword fucking hard. but them both grinning and watching where they place their feet and jim looking up at him from the floor this time but they’ve never been happier about it. not when izzy is lit by a halo of sunset that makes him look softer around the edges than he ever has before

thinking about jim having a rough day and glaring at izzy. him not making it any easier on them. him shouting “jimenez! back to work, dog!” and them finally snapping. thinking about them pulling their knife out and pointing it at him, but when they only say “izzy—” desperately, him understanding what they fucking mean. about him asking “what’s the matter, jim? twist in your fuckin trousers?” as he grabs his sword, but it’s only half sarcastic. them answering “swing at me or quit your bitching, old man! i’ve fucking had it with your shit!” thinking about him smirking before snarling and whipping his blade at them. them sparring until they’re both exhausted, covered in sweat and blood. about it not mattering who won, there were no winners, as they rip gauze for each other from the otherwise empty kitchen. about him not shouting at the crew for the rest of the day after that, and them through the next day. about them both feeling so much better because of it, despite the fresh wounds

thinking about izzy storming out of blackbeard’s quarters, dazed and covered in marks that’ll be dark bruises come morning. about him not throwing a glance at jim as he limps by, but him still snapping “jim—” like it’s an emergency. them following him in a hurry, immediately on guard. him only whirling on them with his blade and them ready for the hit. them relishing the opportunity and taking it easy on him because he’s fucking shaking. him being stupid, misstepping, being dizzy and unsteady with his bandaged foot anyways. them knocking him flat in only a moment. there being something wild and haunted in his eyes that makes them press their knife hard against his skin and hiss his name “izzy, you have to calm the fuck down, hombrecito. gonna lose your mind before i do, fuck” thinking about izzy muttering “jim— jim, please, i’m— fuck, he’s— mm— i-i don’t—” and them saying “izzy, izzy, yo se, izzy— like i’m a fucking moron— i know, izzy” thinking about those names being spoken softly

thinking about izzy calling across the deck “jim!” without even noticing the lack of formality, and thinking about jim turning to look at him obediently, like he might have something worthwhile to offer them. thinking about jim saying “izzy!” and it’s not just to deliver one sentence about their duties, and thinking about izzy only raising an eyebrow, because he knows whatever they’re approaching him for isn’t something stupid or poncey or a waste of his fucking time

thinking about old man grump and the little shadow child that he’s forced into this hell with him. thinking about that saint with the devil’s Hands on their shoulder. thinking about the dog whose favorite person is fucking losing it and taking everyone down with him, after a series of events that said dog played a huge part in. thinking about the poor dog they kept on board, “quite the specimen” and lonely as hell without the man who served as their voice for the better part of the last year. sad lonely old man whose best friend used to be edward, and is now his blade, except it might be jim if they swing that knife right. sad angry young kidnappee who lost their family at a young age, and then momentarily had a family of one with olu before losing that too, except izzy’s not a half-bad father figure if you ignore all the ways he’s fucked up

thinking. about izzy hands and jim jimenez. about them. thinking. ab. thinki. yeah

#izzy hands #edward teach #jim jimenez #ofmd #our flag means death #mine #this is long but i’m seriously THINKING #season 2 #predictions??? idk i’m just like aaaa always on my mind i love them #ofmd jim #ofmd izzy #ofmd izzy hands #ofmd jim jimenez #stabby babies

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princessanneftw · 1 year

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Sorry, Charles, but the answer to everything is Princess Anne

By Deborah Ross for The Times

This week, a royal quiz because, come on, you thought you’d get away without one? This week of all weeks? And if you actually did think you’d get away without one, and I don’t mean this spitefully, aren’t you somewhat dense?

However, in the light of the no-fluff, no-nonsense interview Princess Anne recently gave to Canadian television and all the admiration that unleashed, and in my belief that you don’t like to be overstretched on a Thursday morning, particularly as some of you are still recovering from the news that Jacob Rees-Mogg finds broad beans “loathsome” — it isn’t yet known what broad beans make of him; I will ask next time I push one to the side of my plate* — I have decided to make this easy for you.

The answer, in every instance, is “Princess Anne”. Again, I don’t mean this spitefully, but if you get one wrong you will have no one to blame but yourself.

● Who is the best king we’ll never have, would have been known as “King Anne I”, and would have told those Repair Shop people to “just get on with it” and stop blubbing all over the place and let me know when you’re finished as I have to go kick ass and am behind with kicking ass as it is? (“I get up at 4.30am to kick ass but the day runs away with me all the same, Jay.”)

● Who was not their mother’s favourite child, which, to quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, proved “a big mistake. BIG! HUGE!”?

● Who sits somewhere between Kate being marvellous (and “dazzling”) for just wearing a dress and Meghan being an evil bitch and the new Stalin simply for adopting a different hairstyle?

● Who has never, ever suddenly adopted a different hairstyle and therefore can’t be either an evil bitch or the new Stalin?

● If someone attempted to kidnap you on The Mall and you thought, “What would a royal do in this instance?” which royal would most spring to mind? Particularly if you wished to tell the kidnapper, “Not bloody likely.”

● Ranking them in order, which royal do you suspect rolls their eyes at Fergie the most?

● If you had to bet on one royal retaking America, who would it be?

● Which royal was never dubbed “Randy Annie” or “Air Miles Annie” because they never adopted the kind of freeloading, entitled, licentious lifestyle that would one day bite them on the arse and have them running to Mummy?

● Who, of all the family, do you suspect most often swears like a sailor under their breath and would smoke Woodbines, if they smoked?

● Which royal would be most likely to run over Paddington in their Range Rover and not look back?

● Who demanded that titles weren’t conferred on their children, saying they’d have to earn their own money, and also, chances are, campaigned, albeit unsuccessfully, for Princess Eugenie and Princess Beatrice to get married at Hackney Town Hall followed by Nando’s?

● If a royal were to meet Greg Davies in a post-performance line-up, who would be most able to think up a brutal snub along the lines of, “A lot of ex-teachers become comedians. I can’t see why”?

● Which royal most probably inherited their mother’s Tupperware and will keep it going for future generations, thereby ensuring no royal cornflakes ever go soft?

● Which royal could probably get a potato to peel itself and leap into hot fat just by looking at it?

● Who sliced and diced Cherie Blair at Balmoral in 1997 by refusing to call her “Cherie”, as requested, and instead said, “Let’s not go that way. Let’s stick to Mrs Blair, shall we?”?

● Which royal taught their mother to use Zoom during Covid — “you should have six people on your screen . . . you don’t need to see me. You know what I look like” — but probably gave up on teaching her to text, like we all do, so no judgment there?

● Which royal probably couldn’t be bothered to even get their mother started with online banking?

● Who has inherited a look that amounts to wearing a headscarf tied under the chin like an old Greek lady guiding a donkey down a lane with a stick?

● Who has a look that, for some reason, never sells out everywhere the next day?

● Which royal did The Crown reveal to have been an absolute goer in their youth?

● Which royal did, in fact, have different hair as a young child and looked the spit of Harpo Marx?

● Which royal once reportedly said of Princess Diana, “I will not be pushed around by that brainless woman”?

● If you had all their numbers, which royal would you call if you needed a chicken’s neck wringing?

● If you had to come up with a royal who once appeared on Wogan while looking for all the world as if they’d prefer to have had their head on the chopping block like that other Anne, the Boleyn one, who would that be?

● Which royal do you most imagine would give you a horsewhipping** if you didn’t close the Tupperware properly, thus failing to maintain its airtight seal and letting the cornflakes go soft?

● Which royal has best withstood all the scandals as well as their own divorce and has provided so little grist for the newspapers we might as well all just go home?

● Which royal kind of reminds you of Willa from Succession, who sees everything that goes on in this family but knows if you get too involved you’ll be torn apart and fed to the wolves?

● Lastly, of all the royals, who would you name as the one who actually gets what being a royal is all about?

(*Funnily enough, I did push a broad bean to the side of my plate just now and it said: “The feeling is mutual”)

(**Or a savaging from her dog Dotty)

#i just thought this was enjoyable #my favourite one is the fergie one #princess anne #princess royal #newspapers #british royal family #brf #kciii coronation

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trainwrecksys · 8 days

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ok!!!!!!!! i am!!!!!!! going to just say it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! long long post ahead!!!!!!!!!

yes i look like an out of touch stan with a victim complex for one character when i draw no one but bentham in my fanart and completely ignore everyone else to feel sorry for him and yes i am aware and no i dont know if anyone else sees this in me or im just paranoid but bro i am annoyed with myself !!! i hate how stannish i am sometimes because yes bentham had every reason to be called evil but yeah i had a good few reasons to have a complete breakdown when i read that in the book !!!!!!!1 too much writing under the cut about a lot of stuff that is in my head and needs to get out for better or for worse idk

i have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement and i do not expect to be forgiven but genuinely the way me being a stupid shameless stan can come off to others even subconsciously is actually important because it makes me look like someone who would see a situation like the bentham siblings' in real life and side with the STRAIGHT WHITE MALE who has made more than mistakes and hurt people in moments of heightened emotion (end of library of souls)- but like not in defense of bentham for ONCE IN MY LIFE everyone feels emotions everyone gets hurt and he had a right to not be perfect after everything he went through but that doesnt mean hurting people is the course of action and bro i have completely ignored that and skirted around it for two years and IM NOT GONNA KEEP APOLOGISING FOR MAKING THIS TOO LONG BECAUSE IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE AND I REALISE HOW MUCH OF A STUCK UP DICK I COULD BE NOT ONLY ABOUT THIS BUT IN GENERAL LIFE AFTER I READ THE BOOKS AND GAINED AN ATTACHMENT TO BENTHAM

the stuff im talking about is honestly mainly between me myself and i and most of the art i post is him either chilling or feeling a bit sad but the way i completely ignore miss peregrine's issues and betrayal to focus on how oh so hurt and betrayed myron was like there was no reason he was exiled

like yes years in a big mansion with three people to keep him company in the middle of devils acre with no way to resolve his trauma can do shit to someone but what about years feeling his sisters guilt, BASIL????? what about how she mustve felt after both her brothers DIED due to their own hubris???????????? what about how she felt she was a bad sister when she literally had to be like their mother with all the baggage she had then actually mother children while thinking her slightly better brother might have been getting better with him saying he was gonna give them info on caul only to see him SIDE WITH CAUL when he had just done something that COULD HAVE HELPED HIS CAUSE and then spitefully capture her and lead them into the mouth of hell OH MY GOD

and how jacob and emma had to deal with his bullshit being all "lets talk over tea!" and waiting for when it was right in the exposition to tell them who he fucking was, then telling them he BASICALLY KILLED JACOBS GRANDPA while giving excuses and them finding out later on that hE KEPT THE SUUL FOR HIMSELF?????? i made some bullshit reason up why he did that for my headcannons but lets be real the only reason they could have at least imagined was that he was planning on using it in the library. the information betrayed them either way and to alma again it was only a stab in the gut because he hurt a guy who was basically her son

overall hes not some aesthetic victimised pookie bear hes a more than flawed man who only did some things to mend his image and cant be excused for what he did and this whole post was basically me shouting at myself

#which is on brand because #theres two sides of the argument living in my brain #and more than one me #mphfpc #now time to listen to music and ignore the fact i posted this #myron bentham

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rat-cannibal · 1 month

Text

Word Count: 2000+

ao3:

It’d be weird fucking you with explicit permission from Valentino. I don’t want him to know when I get off.”

“Honestly?” Angel grinned. “Same here. Don’t get much of a choice, though, personally.”

“A real shame.” Husk smiled coyly. “A hottie like you deserves full autonomy over his body.”

“Holy shit, that’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

Husk’s eyes narrowed as he idly shuffled the deck of cards in his hands. Instead of gambling today, he was dealing - the euphoric high he got from winning would cloud his judgement for the overlord meeting he was being forced to attend.

Every so often, Valentino liked to host ‘casino-themed meetings’ that consisted of Vox, Velvette, Husker, Zeezi, and Valentino himself. Husk was certain they were just an excuse for Valentino to rebuild his ego after the regular overlord meetings. Everybody in the aptly named ‘casino squad’ was either allied with Valentino or didn’t give enough of a shit to argue with him.

Husk sat staunchly in the second category.

He still continued to attend them because why the hell wouldn’t he? Free entertainment. Watching Valentino prance around like a child while spouting whatever inane idea he had recently come up with brought Husker more joy than it probably should have.

But whatever. He would take his dopamine rushes where he could get them.

As he dealt the deck, he watched the microexpressions of the patrons. A cheek twitch and a tap of the finger - a good deck.

A thick swallow and a lax grin to put off the other patrons - a bad deck.

Husker knew the game all too well, and was well versed in playing it.

The bad deck guy was bad at bluffing. He was trying to bait good deck guy into folding, and was betting more than he probably should have been on it. Rookie mistake.

Not like being good at gambling was a good thing, either, though, thought Husker, somewhat spitefully. Look at where it got him. Knee deep in cash, and elbow deep in a bottle of vodka every other night.

He didn’t drink to feel happy anymore - that ship sailed a long ass time ago. No, he drank to not feel like shit. The only thing that brought him joy was gambling.

He knew his position as overlord wouldn’t last forever. Even the best gamblers had to lose sometime. Maybe being kicked out of his self-made fortress of destructive habits wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Valentino.

“Sorry, fellas, gotta bounce. You’ll be alright without me, won’t you?” He handed the deck to an employee of the casino and gave the bad-deck-guy a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Good luck on the floor tonight,” he murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “and by the way - your tell is your right leg. It bounces when you bluff.”

Husk entered the VIP lounge, where Vox and Zeezi were already waiting. Valentino and Velvette usually liked to make some sort of grand entrance.

He motioned to the bartender. “Gimme a scotch whiskey. No ice.”

The bartender slid the drink to him. He grabbed it, then took a seat, sipping it idly. With the tolerance he’d built up, one drink would do nothing to him. Made him look pretty badass, though.

As expected, around 5 minutes after the meeting time, Valentino and Velvette strutted in, followed by a posse of their employees.

“Hello, darlings!” crowed Valentino, languishing onto the loveseat. “So lovely to see you all today.”

“Lovely to see you, too, Valentino,” said Vox, crossing his arms. Husker grunted, then took a swig of his drink. The TV demon leaned forward. “Any particular occasion for this meeting? Or is it just a little get together between friends?”

“As a matter of fact, there is! Some of the other overlords - Zestiel specifically - are a bit too uptight to appreciate what I do. It is, however, the 10th anniversary of the opening of my business, so I thought it was due time to celebrate! To mark the occasion, I brought some of my favourite pets along to show off.”

With a snap, Valentino dimmed the lights. Pornstar after pornstar filed in from the door, striking a couple poses before draping themselves over Valentino suggestively.

Velvette and Vox clapped enthusiastically for each one that entered the room. They weren’t anything special in Husk’s opinion, but he paid attention as a courtesy.

“And, as a grand finale, my favourite little pet, Angel Dust!”

A white spider demon with multi-coloured eyes came strutting towards the table, a seductive grin across his face.

His eyes didn’t match his smile, and his movements seemed forced - Husk could tell he didn’t want to be there.

When Valentino traced Angel Dust’s jawline, he flinched momentarily, before leaning into the touch, purring something into the porn demon’s ear.

Valentino pulled Angel Dust into his lap. “Quite something, aren’t they? This is the epitome of all of my hard work. The hottest, sexiest, most desireable demons in hell are all in this room.” Valentino spread his arms. “Go on! Mingle! Get to know them.” He grinned saucily. “The first time for you, my friends, is free.”

Husk held back a scoff. This bitch was whoring out his workers to total strangers. No fucking way this was in the porn star job description. Knowing Valentino, he probably added it to the fine print of the contract they were no doubt forced to sign.

A scantily-clad cat demon shimmied up to him, giving him a sultry smile. “Hey, handsome, love yer whiskers,”

“Uh, thanks.” He shifted uncomfortably. He had no interest in sleeping with one of Valentino’s toys, but he had a feeling that outright rejecting her would land her in trouble with her boss. “I like your, uh, smile. Real genuine.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Surprise. Then, oddly enough, her pupils dilated - arousal. “Why, thank you, honey,” she purred, “my teeth certainly are sharp, aren’t they? Wanna see what they can do?”

“Hey, Callie,” interrupted a brooklyn-accented voice, “lay off, why don’t ya? I got a feeling he doesn’t swing your way.”

The cat - Callie - walked away wordlessly. Husk’s rescuer made himself known by stepping towards him. Angel Dust. “Thanks for helping me out,” thanked Husk.

Angel Dust waved his hand dismissively and took a seat next to him. “Nah, don’t mention it. I could tell you were uncomfortable. Yano, you could’ve just said no and she woulda backed off.”

“I could have,” agreed Husk, taking a sip of his drink, “but I’m sure Valentino would’ve made her pay for it. Am I wrong?”

The spider demon fidgeted with his harness. His eyes darted to the side. “Well, yeah, but that’s not your problem. You don’t need to sit through that shit if you don’t want to.” The words ‘unlike us’ were left unspoken.

“I don’t want to make her job any harder than it has to be.” Husk cleared his throat. “No pun intended.”

Angel barked out a laugh. “I like your style, sweetheart. Kind when you don’t gotta be, not to mention legs for days. Nothin’ compared to me, though, of course, but that’s real hard to accomplish.”

Husk could tell the porn-star was rambling. He didn’t know how to communicate without flirting. A pang of sympathy shot through him. “You know you’re more than that, right?”

Angel swallowed. “What?”

“You’re more than just a sex figure. You’re a real person. And you seem like an upright one, too - real hard to find down here.”

“I’m not part of the ‘first time’s free’ deal, just so ya know. You don’t gotta butter me up.”

“Don’t worry, I have absolutely no intention of doing that.” Husk finished off his glass. “Even if you were part of the deal, I wouldn’t be interested.”

“How come? In case ya didn’t hear Val, I’m hell’s most desirable boy toy.”

“I like my sex fully consensual and free of coercion.” Husk shot a disgusted look at Vox and Velvette, who were indulging in Valentino’s offer already - in plain goddamn daylight. “Unlike some people.”

He heaved himself up from his seat and returned to the bar. He knew the bartender really damn well - too damn well, actually. Both he and the barkeep knew exactly how the night was going to go.

The bartender wordlessly slid a glass of overproof rum over to him - no ice and filled exactly halfway, just how he liked it.

Angel Dust, much to his surprise, had followed him to the bar. “So what’s your deal then, huh? Why’re you at this meeting anyways? No offense, but ya don’t exactly fit in here, toots.”

Husk snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, I take it as a compliment.” He swirled his glass. “I’m here outta boredom.”

“Boredom? I’d think bein’ an overlord would be enough to combat boredom.”

“You’d be surprised,” quipped Husk. “Shit gets old fast. Every day is pretty much the same down here when you don’t need to fear for your life. And when you do the same thing over and over, it stops bringing you joy. So when I find something that does give me that hit of dopamine - namely, your boss making an ass of himself - I indulge it wholeheartedly.”

Angel blinked. “Goddamn. That’s way deeper than I thought it’d be.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologise. Happens a lot in the industry, actually. Drunken colleagues spillin’ secrets to their porno partners, cryin’ in the middle of a scene..” Angel’s eyes widened. “Not that I mean to compare you to us, though. You’re obviously doin’ way better for yourself. Just reminded me of that is all.”

Husk chuckled duly. “Don’t sweat it. And for the record, I’m not doing nearly as well as I seem. I doubt you are, either, are you?” He waved his hand. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Angel took the out and changed the conversation. “So you’re the gambling demon or somethin’ right? I’ve heard a bit about you. Killin’ people with card tricks is pretty badass, ya know.”

“I wouldn’t call them ‘card tricks’,” sniffed Husk, “and I didn’t know people referred to me as the ‘gambling demon’. Not exactly flattering, being named after an addiction. Even if it is accurate.”

“Oh, you think that’s bad? People point to me on the street and yell ‘hey, that’s the porn star!’ At least your title gets you respect.”

Husk laughed deeply. “Well, they’re exposing themselves by saying that, then, aren’t they?”

“As someone who watches porn?” Angel rolled his eyes. “Not much of a confession down here. I’d be more surprised if someone didn’t.”

“I don’t,” said Husk, staring at Angel over the rim of his glass. “I prefer to go straight to the source. Being an overlord doesn’t exactly leave me wanting for a bed warmer. Pretty people are aplenty when you’ve got the power and money to make ‘em stay.”

Angel blinked. Then swallowed. Then bit his lip. “Lucky people they must be, to get a taste of that. I wouldn’t mind joinin’ em.”

Husk threw his drink back and motioned to the barkeep for another. “Tempting offer, but your boss doesn’t seem the type to share. Not outside the industry, at least.”

The spider demon’s eyes darkened. “He owns me in the studio, but outside it, I’m my own goddamn man. He can’t stop me from fucking who I want, when I want, no matter how much he may want to.”

Husk looked him up and down. “Good to know. I’ll store that information away for safekeeping.”

Valentino slinked up to them, draping an arm across Angel’s shoulders. The spider demon flinched slightly, just as he had when Valentino touched his jaw, but relaxed into his arm. “Enjoying yourself, Angel Cakes?”

Angel smiled tightly. “You know it, Val.”

“So glad to hear that.” The moth demon grabbed Angel’s shoulder. Husk held back a wince - he’d seen Valentino’s nails before, and they looked sharp as fuck. “You and I are going to have our own, private celebration after the party. Understood?”

Husk watched Angel’s face fall slightly. His smile looked forced. “Yes sir,” he purred, nestling into Valentino’s arm, “looking forward to it, Val.”

“Good.” Valentino retracted his arm. “I would expect nothing less from my good, little moneymaker.” He looked up at Husk, who had started on his third drink of the night. “You’ll take care of my Angel, won’t you? I don’t like my toys too broken when I play with them.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “But Val, you said -"

“That was for Vox and Velvette,” said Valentino dismissively, “they’ve already taken a liking to you, and I wouldn’t want to get you stolen away. Husker, here, on the other hand.. Well, I’m sure he knows better than to try to take you from me. No matter how tempted he may be.”

Husk grinned laxly. “That I do, that I do. I’d say most people know better than to mess with you - unless they’ve got a death wish, that is,” he flattered. Playing the game was one of his greatest talents. One of the only reasons he still got invited to the casino club gatherings, too.

Valentino relaxed, seemingly satisfied with Husk’s answer. He laughed heartily. “Very true, my friend. Well, I’ll leave you two be.” He sauntered back to the Vee’s table - how he was able to stand Vox and Velvette’s obnoxious moaning was a mystery to Husk.

Angel hesitated. “So, uh, you wanna..?”

“What, fuck you?” Husk sighed. “Like I said earlier. I like my sex fully consensual and free of coercion. And honestly? It’d be weird fucking you with explicit permission from Valentino. I don’t want him to know when I get off.”

“Honestly?” Angel grinned. “Same here. Don’t get much of a choice, though, personally.”

“A real shame.” Husk smiled coyly. “A hottie like you deserves full autonomy over his body.”

“Holy shit, that’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Angel bit his lip. “You know, I have a phone number. You can have it, too, if you’d like.”

“I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

#fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #bibliophile #books #literature #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #angel x husk #angel dust x husk #gay men #gay #lgbtqia #fanfic #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 writer #bookish

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 1 year

Text

Hunter woke up gasping for air, running his hands over his arms, desperately reassuring himself that they were skin and blood, not bones, not one of the lost skeletons of Uncle Belos’s mind—

Emperor Belos, he reminded himself.

Philip Wittebane?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. What mattered was that Hunter was real, and alive, and safe in the human realm, with Gus snoring softly beside him. Good. He’d woken Gus enough with these stupid nightmares already. At least one of them should be able to get a proper sleep once in a while. Hunter fluffed out his blanket and spitefully lay down again, determined to fight his way back to sleep through sheer force of will—

What is that?

There were voices. Unfamiliar ones, coming from up the stairs, so soft Gus’s snores almost drowned them out. Hunter sat bolt upright once more, reaching out for Flapjack, who obligingly transformed into a staff in his hands. He crept up the stairs, to where there was an odd, flickering light coming around the corner, and raised the staff, ready—

“Hunter?”

Amity paused the TV, looking at him incredulously.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

Amity kept looking at him, her face cold, her eyes narrowed. It was a look Hunter had gotten more than used to over the past week. Once the adrenaline of the Day of Unity had worn off, she’d clearly remembered how he’d threatened to hand her girlfriend over to Belos, and he’d heard the undercurrent of suspicion in every interaction she’d had with him loud and clear. Not that he blamed her.

He couldn’t think of an explanation for why he was up here that wouldn’t make him look like a paranoid fool, but after a few more seconds of staring, she seemed to see through him. Her face softened— just slightly— and she said, in a carefully neutral voice, “you had a nightmare, too.”

He blinked. “Is, uh, is that why you’re up here?”

“No, Hunter, I just love Azura so much that I have to see her every night at midnight or I won’t be able to go on.”

“I’d actually believe that.”

“Ha ha.”

They stared at each other again for one, two, three more seconds before Hunter realized he could make his escape. “Well, I’ll just be… going back downstairs…”

“Wait.”

Amity seemed as surprised to hear the word as he was, and she made a face as she spoke the next words, clearly forcing them out. “Do you want to stay and watch?”

Hunter weighed his options. On one hand, she was clearly hoping he’d say no. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back downstairs and lie in the dark with the guilt of what he’d done at Eclipse Lake on top of the fear of the nightmares. Sleep was probably out of the cards, at this point, and what if he started panicking again? What if he started hyperventilating again, or stopped being able to breathe right again, and woke Gus?

“Sure,” he said as casually as he could manage, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

Amity took this surprisingly well, leaning back into the pillows and resuming the movie. It wasn’t too confusing, so she’d probably been near the beginning. To his surprise, it was a lot like Ruler’s Reach, and the terror of the nightmares and the awkwardness with Amity were chased further and further to the back of his mind as Azura began her travels, learning magic and befriending her rival witch Hecate.

Until Lucy, a witch who’d claimed to be Azura’s friend, captured her and held her life ransom in exchange for Hecate’s magic amulet. Hunter didn’t take his gaze from the screen, but he could feel Amity’s eyes on him, burning an angry hole into the back of his head, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He seized the remote, pausing the film, and said, all in a rush, “I’m sorry, okay?”

He turned to Amity, whose expression was unreadable. “I’m sorry for threatening Luz to get to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t let you help me, and I’m sorry I gave the key to Belos— it was a mistake. All of it.”

Slowly, Amity’s cool mask softened into something more natural. Not kind, exactly, but not accusing. She heaved a sigh.

“Willow’s probably told you, I wasn’t… the nicest witch either, for a long time. I hurt a lot of people. Maybe not as extremely as the Emperor’s Coven, but still. When Luz first met me, she tried to show me what I was doing was wrong, and to be my friend. I didn’t take her up on it the first time, or even the second.” She sighed again. “I shouldn’t be hard on you for not taking the first way out either. It’s just… Luz…”

“She’s special,” Hunter agreed. “It’s clear how much you care about her. And I care about her too. She’s never judged me for… a lot of things most people would. She helped me find out the truth about Belos, and she helped me get away from him. So I hope you’ll believe me when I say I would never threaten her again. And if anyone else did, I’d… well, they’d regret it.”

A faint smile crossed Amity’s face. “I’d bet they would. If we could fight so well against each other, imagine what we could do as a team.”

Hunter smiled— a wide, probably stupid grin, but it made Amity’s smile wider, too. “Luz told me they have a saying in the human realm,” she said. “‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’.”

Hunter nodded slowly. “Friends, then?”

“Friends.”

Hunter pressed play again before the silence could become awkward, and now that the tension had dissipated, he got sucked in before he knew it. When the movie ended, Amity reached up to turn it off, but he held out a hand.

“Wait. Can we… watch the second one? I want to find out what happens next.”

Amity shook her head. “We have to wait for Luz. She’d kill me if she didn’t get to see your reactions to The Betrayening. Our lives might be in danger just because you watched the first one without her, actually.”

Hunter gave a small laugh. “You’re probably right.”

“Besides, we should both try to get some sleep. If those bags under your eyes get any larger, Camila might take you to her work to get you examined.”

“Camila only works with animals.”

“I know.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Good night, Amity.”

“Good night, Hunter.”

Lying back in the basement, Hunter tried to focus only on Azura, trying to guess what would happen to her next in order to keep his mind far away from the Isles— but guessing could only do so much. Just as his breathing was getting shallower, he heard a soft thump from the top of the stairs. He was almost glad to make the journey up with Flapjack once more, and even more so when he opened the door to find a small, thick book in front of it.

The Good Witch Azura, read the cover, along with a note in Amity’s handwriting.

Luz and I have book club every Monday evening at 8. Better read fast if you want to join next time.

A broad grin crossing his face in the dark, Hunter stole back down the stairs to read.

#no idea what possessed me to write this months after thanks to them #but here we are. one of many bonding moments we deserved #the owl house #toh #toh hunter #amity blight #luz noceda #camila noceda #emperor belos #lumity #ray rambles #ray writes

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lightdancer1 · 6 months

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And frankly I don't care what fanon says:

We have seen how Death and Dream interact. She never has a problem calling him on his shit, and the serious shit. I really don't think that Death and Dream discussing Nada in the Season of Mists was the first time it ever came up.

The surprise here would not be that the topic came up, but 1) that Death and Desire, who have a relationship at least as hostile or moreso as Desire and Dream agreed on something of importance and said so in a short span of time, and/or 2) that Dream actually was willing both to listen and to act on it. And here, at least, is one case where the fishbowl would probably make a difference in Dream being willing to hear this and to admit he made a mistake instead of spitefully doubling down and lashing out about it.

I can't see Death staying completely silent about it for 10,000 years. I can see that where she and Dream had some major arguments would have been this and that Dream wouldn't have taken it well in the past. Dream acting on that, Dream admitting he was wrong, is a key turning point in his fate and where he first begins to face the dual choices of changing or death.

#death of the endless #dream of the endless #season of mists #sandman meta #you really think that in 10k years this topic never came up?#one need only look at how many times and how many things and how many reasons Death calls Dream out on #there is no way that this conversation was the singular only one they had #there is also honestly no way that Desire wouldn't have needled Dream like this as both little sibling and actually having a point #everything we see of the characterization of Dream and Death and Desire says otherwise #so the key point would not be that the topic came up but that something other than inertia happened #and honestly I'm curious if the same fandom and the same Tumblr that forgives Hob Gadling slave trafficker #decides that Dream still gets all the pantsfeels when they get the full picture of what happened with Nada

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zablife · 2 years

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Playing a Game with Alfie

Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Request: Playing a board game in a cafe. Requested by @dreamlandcreations.

Warnings: ethnic slur, injury, threat with a weapon, Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution.

Author's Note: Reader is a member/former member of Sabini's gang.

The man standing behind you jerked your head back by the roots of your hair painfully, asking one last time, “Who were you working with tonight, you little wop?”

“I already told you! No one,” you said through clenched teeth. Why couldn’t these goons believe you were clever enough to count cards? It wasn’t a difficult scheme. You were there to earn a little more money before leaving London and the Sabinis for good. Your only mistake had been overconfidence, returning to the casino two nights in a row.

Unsatisfied with your answer, the man pushed your head into the wooden table in front of you harshly and you felt your cheek swell instantly. Suddenly the door to the small room opened with a bang and a hulking man lumbered toward you, leaning on a cane. He grumbled as he dismissed the men with a wave of his ringed hand and you glimpsed a small crown tattoo between his thumb and forefinger. Now you understood why you’d been subjected to questioning this evening. You’d caught the attention of Alfie Solomons, king of Camden Town.

He kicked a chair out to sit opposite you and stared as he stroked his beard for a moment in deep thought. “Bold of you to assume my casino is a charitable institution," he growled finally.

"Your pathetic security would make it seem otherwise," you retorted.

His eyes went wild for a moment before he asked, “Like games do ya, pet?”

“When luck is on my side. Wouldn’t seem so tonight,” you said spitefully.

“Well that’s a pity, ain’t it? Cause I’ve got a proposition for ya,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket.

You eyed him carefully, heart pounding in your chest despite your attempt to remain calm. “I’ve heard about you. You offer a deal or death so what do you want from me?” You swallowed harshly, pushing your dress from your shoulder to reveal a bit of skin to tempt him.

His hand pulled back for a moment and he chuckled at you darkly. “Nah, that’s not what I’m after.” Feeling further humiliated by his rejection, you ducked your head and pulled the fabric back to cover yourself. His face turned serious as he rasped, “But you will properly make amends.” You looked at him with a mix of awe and fear, unsure what he would ask of you as you began to tremble involuntarily.

“I think you’re going to like this, being a gambling woman.” He pulled his revolver from his pocket and opened the chamber, emptying all the bullets except for one. Giving the cylinder a spin and clicking it back into place he asked, “Ever play Russian roulette?” He looked into your eyes and smirked as he watched you bite back tears. Sliding the gun across the table, he arranged your hands over the weapon gently and placed his large hand over yours. He looked deeply into your eyes, content with the fear he had managed to instill.

“Go on, dove,” he urged in a low voice dripping with pity and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “I think you know how this goes. Hold it to your pretty head and try your luck. Once for every night you tried to fuck me over.” A single tear trickled down your cheek as you realized there was no way out. “Buona fortuna,” he whispered as he waited for the game to begin.

#zablife corrupt a wish #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons x reader #Alfie Solomons x you #Alfie Solomons x y/n #dark!alfie

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paarthurnax59 · 1 year

Text

"Soul Of Liberty"

Chapter 2

Later that night Dean and Maria spent the night in bed. After their sexual activities, Maria wakes to go to the bathroom and comes back to Dean muttering in his sleep, finding that she was not pleased to hear what her boyfriend had said.

“(Y/n)…” He uttered softly which made Maria shift uncomfortably where she stood. It was quite but there was no mistaking what poor Maria had heard her love had said in her sleep. Her name, Dean had said his ex-wife’s name while his current girlfriend was sleeping right next to him. She didn’t know what to do at that point. Should leave the room and sleep someplace else or just bare it for the night?

‘Maybe I am just overreacting. It was a one-time thing.’ She thought to herself as she got back under the covers and wrapped herself in Dean’s arms, slowly falling back into a blissful sleep.

Unfortunately for the ‘happy couple”, things didn’t smooth out after that.

Dean had began to be more distant from Maria lately. He grew more irritated when she was bothering him while researching for a hunt by asking if they were going on a date sometime soon. He would apologize after, but soon fall back into those same patterns, that it was really starting to get to her. She noticed that he came home later during his trips to the bar and made Sam drive because he would come home drunk.

What else was that he still would watch the news related to the Avengers and (Y/n). It was almost like an obsession for him. either he was waiting to see her screw up or that maybe he was genuinely concerned that (Y/n) might get killed. There was no way for Maria to know. Either way, it was becoming unhealthy.

Then the next week, she saw something that made her heartbeat stop. She accidently saw Deans wallet open on the floor as she was doing laundry one day. She picked it up and saw a photo that was sticking out from it’s pocket. Curiosity got the best of her and she pulled it out. Her eyes grew wide as she saw a picture of (Y/N) on Dean’s Impala when they were younger. Her heart raced at an unhealthy rate that she was thinking she might break a rib. After all this time, he still had feelings for her, no matter how much he said she’s history and even after she hurt him so badly. Being so shocked at the fact Dean kept a picture of his ex-wife, Maria didn’t notice a pair of forest green eyes looking at her from the doorway.

“Baby? Have you seen my wallet?” Dean uttered, with concerned in his eyes making Maria turn around to meet his gaze. The green-eyed hunter then saw Maria holding the photo of (Name) in her hands along with his wallet. “Honey, please like me ex-”

“Why do you still have her picture, Dean?” The Latin woman demanded as she was starting to lose control over her emotions.

“Maria, just calm down. It’s not what you think.” Dean walked closer to her, but she stepped back away from him.

“Why?! You said you two were over! You said that she broke your heart so badly that she would never have any room in your life again! You told me you hated her guts and that she was never the one for you!” Maria yelled as she as she held up the photo of the (H/c) woman. “and yet, you can’t seem to forget about her.”

Now Dean was also starting to lose his cool from Maria’s outburst.

“She was my wife, Maria.” Dean gritted his teeth as he tried to defend himself for keeping (Name)’s photo. “She was the only woman I have ever married. The one I thought that I would have children with and grow old together if one of us didn’t die from hunting. I thought the world of her!”

“Well, apparently you still do, Mi Corazon. Seeing as you are practically obsessed with the woman that broke your heart.” She said spitefully as she grabbed her coat and walked out of the room with Dean following her.

“Where the hell are you going?!” Dean shouted at his girlfriend walking up the steps of the bunker.

“Out! I need time to think!” Maria shouted back and opened the door to leave the bunker, slamming it shut.

Dean knew he should go after her. He was a good boyfriend after all and he loved Maria with all his heart. But, something stopped him from doing it. ‘Maybe she just needs some time.’ He thought and then went back to his room and noticed his brother and friends watching him with concerned looks on their faces. He shrugs it off and walked to the garage to get to his baby and drives to the nearest bar.

The next morning, Dean awakes as the sun shined on his face. He rises with what seemed to be the biggest hangover he ever had. The hunter knew he had gone overboard with the whiskey, beer and jello shots in order to forget his fight with his girlfriend. He looked down at himself and saw that he was indeed naked and not alone. He slowly turned his head and saw what looked like the waitress he was talking to last night and she also laid naked. He looked down at her and realized how much she looked his ex-wife.

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes grew wide at the realization at what he had just done. He cheated. He cheated on Maria with a complete stranger. Never in his life he never felt so sick to his stomach, so disgusted with himself. Not sense he caught (Name) and Sam together.

“(Name)…’” He gritted his teeth at thought of that night, how much he hated her for what she did and now…she had turned him into a cheater like her.

When he got to the bunker, Maria was back home and ready to work things out. But as soon as she hugged Dean, she smelled the perfume on him and her heart broke. Dean tried to explain and blamed the fact that he was drunk and was a one-time thing, begging with tears on his eyes for her to stay, just like (Name) had. Maria wouldn’t hear it. She said they were over and left the bunker, never to be seen again.

To say Dean was pissed was an understatement. A good portion of it was at himself, but also at (Name).

“She did this to me.” He took out his wallet and pulled out his last photo of (name) that he had. Sam’s eyes

“Who? Maria? Are you blaming your now ex-girlfriend for you cheating?” Sam stated disapprovingly at him placing his hands on his hips.

“NO! (NAME)!!! She just keeps on crawling back into my life one way or another! I can’t blink without seeing her face, hearing her laugh and cry. I still remember the softness of her skin and feeling her when I have sex with another woman.” Dean screamed his confession, not realizing until now the deep scare that (Name) left behind. When the news comes back on from the other room making him walked to the other room as both Kevin and Charlie were sitting on the couch and looked up to Dean.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Charlie asked after hearing all the yelling that was going on, but Dean didn’t hear her as the news anchor came on.

“Tony Stark is hosting a charity Gala next week on the 28th at the Metropolitan Museum and every Avenger will be in attendance to help raise funds for those effected by war and poverty across the globe. It is said that many world leaders, royalty, members of congress-”

One week on 28th, (Name)’s birthday is on that very same day.

And at that moment, Dean snapped by throwing the nearest empty beer bottle at the TV, cracking the entire screen making it go completely dark. Everyone was in absolute dismay at Dean’s behavior and rage, like he was going crazy. Would seem that they were all right.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!!!??” Castiel yelled as his friend was going mad with rage. Dean just couldn’t see past his own anger and self-hatred; he didn’t even look at the looks his friends were giving him. It took him a moment to snap back to reality and saw the terrified looks the people around him were giving him. He knew right then and there, he was going crazy. Dean looked away from him and left back to his room, alone.

The oldest Winchester stayed in his room for hours. He mauled over everything that had been going on for the past few years ever sense he saw (Name) during that press conference in New York. He couldn’t believe things were going so well for her sense he last saw her at that restaurant, and it angered him.

‘This is ridiculous.” He muttered to himself laying on his bed with his hands behind his back. ‘How could things be going to well for her when she had been so awful in the past? How did she get so attractive in the past five years. And those powers…where did she get them? If know for a fact she’s only human. She’s not some demon-”

Then it hit him, and how (Name) had gotten these powers. Demon…Crossroads…selling their soul. Dean’s green eyes widen trying to catch his breath this sudden epiphany.

‘That’s…it! She sold her soul to a demon to become Avenger! There is no other explanation! There is no way that someone as weak and cowardly as her would ever become someone that saved the world like she did! She is far worse of a human being than I thought!’

‘Woah, Dean. Excusing your ex-wife of selling her soul to become a superhero? Do you even hear yourself? Are you that upset that she is living a life that you never could even dream of that you came to a delusional assumption of her doing something so desperate as to sell something as precious as her own soul?’

“There is nothing precious about (Name) or her soul. She’s a selfish, black-hearted witch that never had to do anything for anyone. I saved her life multiple times and she repays me for cheating on me with my brother? You can’t tell me that her soul is precious?” Dean thought back as hi inner voice was speaking to him. Man, he really has gone insane. “Wait, who are you?! How are you in my head?!”

“ Just call me Jiminy Cricket, aka, the little voice inside your head that is trying to keep you from doing the stupidest decisions of your life.” Disclosed the voice in the hinter’s head “Every human soul is precious to some degree, Dean. Even the worst among humans.” Said the voice again. “And really? Never did anything for you? You know that’s not true. How about the times she went out of her way to come and help you with a hunt or do hours of research only to lose sleep, or stitched you up and giving you medical treatment when you couldn’t go to the hospital?” It spoke again, really making Dean more pissed by the second with his heavy breathing and flaring nostrils. “Was being with her that bad?”

“No, not at first anyway. I though once she was the best thing that happened to me, but then she slept with my brother and lied to me about it. No one who hurts people like could ever change. All they do is hurt others time and time again. And she tried to blame Sammy for it. He told me that she said to him that “You did this to me” when he wasn’t even in control of his actions. Not only she hurt me but try to blame my brother.” He argued with the inner voice.

“You remember how sensitive she was. When someone who wants to make amends with the people they love, they are very emotional. Still doesn’t justified her actions, but you have to give her credit for trying.” The voice in his head was trying to reason with him.

“You and everyone else should know by now, no matter what she said to me, that I would never forgive her. NEVER. She cheated on me with my brother and she knew that I would leave her if she did. She’s a monster.” He replied to the voice in his head.

“People say that same thing about you, Winchester. Yet, you were forgiven. Let’s be fair Dean, you are not exactly a saint yourself. You did rub your perfect and beautiful girlfriend in her face and dangled the idea of proposing to Maria with the very ring (Name) wore, and then you ended up cheating on her years later. Are you really any better?” You really have no one to blame but yourself at this point.” said the voice again. “Not to mention all the one-night stands that you had before you even got together with her, while she was a virgin when you first started dating. Even Tony Stark has a smaller body count than you, and he's one of the most high value men on the planet. Who’s really the whore here? Tell me, Winchester. How long would it have been before you would have cheated on (Name)?”

“SHUT UP!!!” He screamed and shot up from his bed and pulled out his wallet and looked at (Name)’s picture in his and glared at it. She looked so young and carefree back then and she was. It was one thing that he loved about her. But now looking at the photo and just feels hate.

“I’ll show them who you really are, sweetheart. And let’s see if your precious golden boy will still want to nail you after this.” He spat out the nickname that used to hold so much love when he looked at (Name). It’s about time he made a trip to New York City.

#dean winchester #angst #marvel #dean winchester angst #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #steve rogers angst #the avengers #steve x reader #supernatural

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