#I know that white isn’t part of the rainbow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one.

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.”

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again.

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.

Summer has never felt so long.

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.

You’re completely devastating.

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?”

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it.

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.

He’s milked. Spent.

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke.

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.

God forbid they have coyotes, right?

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

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natailiatulls07 · 2 months

Text

Mick Schumacher x Platonic!reader Oscar Piastri x Platonic!reader Logan Sargeant x Platonic!reader Liam Lawson x Platonic!reader

Summary - Five young drivers, five different teams and one friendship group

Warning - One hate comment??

Reader drivers for Redbull

Part two

yourusername

Back in the paddock, who's ready for the season??

Tagged: redbullracing

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 203,479 others

username Can't wait for more success from our girlie

username We miss you, where have you been??!

= logansargeant She spent the whole winter break binge watching gossip girl and gilmore girls

= yourusername Shhhhhhhh

username Just waiting for the baby drivers content!!

liamlawson30 posted a story

logansargeant

Fuck I'm friends with some weird ass people

Tagged: mickschumacher liamlawson30 oscarpiastri yourusername

Liked by alex_albon and 202,735 others

username Nah Oscar's just being cute ngl

username Liam is giving main character energyyyy

yourusername Why is mine the worst one here omfggg??

= logansargeant Because you are the most weird one!

= yourusername I'm not sharing my sushi with you after the race this weekend

= mickschumacher Aww mate, you've really fucked up there lolll

yourusername posted a story

yourusername Should I die my hair Red?? Seriously debating it rn

OscarPiastri No, please no!

SchumacherMick Hell yeah! Fire hair!!

LiamLawson30 Oh god! Mick don't encourage her!!!! OMFG

LoganSargeant All I'll say is that you drive for Redbull, and the colour red is owned by a rival of yours

yourusername OMG YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! Let's do rainbow then!

LiamLawson30 Well done Logan! That worked well didn't it?

OscarPiastri I'm so done with you four, so done.

SchumacherMick You know you love us!!

mickschumacher

Y/n choose the group activity today and she choose sushi, surprise surprise! And Liam turned up in his Ken hoodie which he was very proud of lmao

Tagged: yourusername oscarpiastri logansargeant liamlawson30

Liked by georgerussell and 214,648 others

username That sushi looks sooo good thooo

username Is Y/n wearing friendship bracelets?? Please tell me she made the rest of the guys one each!!?

= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE

liamlawson30 We should defo do sushi again!! I'm still very proud of my hoodie!

= yourusername I loved the hoodie!

Groupchat - Baby drivers (Mick-Purple / Logan-Blue / Oscar-Orange / Liam-White / Y/n-Pink)

HELP FUCK

WAIT WHAT?!

Mick what did you do?!?!

Are you in safety?!

Whats happened???!

I was stalking this girls page when I accidently liked a post from when she was fifteen!!

Aww mate you're screwed!

When she was fifteen?! How old is she now??

Damn you really fucked uppp

She's 23! So over seven years agooo

Yeah that's awkward ngl!

maxverstappen1

Soo thank you for the smashed trophy Y/n, always so helpful! :|

Tagged: redbullracing yourusername

Liked by yourusername and 223,781 others

username She really said 'Let's all share this win'

oscarpiastri I don't know why they trust her near trophies, pretty sure almost all of her own are broken

= yourusername Shhh, I'm trying my best to seem trust worthy

username Thing is she just laughed about it lol

= username I'm just glad that Max isn’t that annoyed, he joined in with her laughter

yourusername posted a story

f1gossip

Spotted: Redbull driver, Y/n L/n and Actor, Barry Keoghan are seen and paped leaving a restaurant together in Monte Carlo. From our sources, it looked like they were on a date and that they were both very intimate with each other. Do we have a new wag in the paddock and are we going to see one of our baby drivers walking a red carpet more often?

Liked by logansargeant and 59,572 others

username Y/n and Barry Keoghan??! The same Barry who was in Saltburn??!

username He is almost ten years older than her ewww

oscarpiastri Oh so this is how we find out...

= logansargeant Ikr!

= mickschumacher She said that she was busy at a redbull event tonight

= liamlawson30 Apparently nottt

username Not the other baby drivers finding out through this post!!!

Groupchat - Baby drivers

So Y/n how's the redbull event??!

Yeah are you and Max bored yet?

Yeahhh

Uh guys I can't really talk rn, me and Max are needed on stage to speak

Oh don't worry, say hi to Barry for us

Barry? Who's Barry??

You know Barry Keoghan, the Barry who you were seen cosying up to at a restaurant in MONTE CARLO

Yeah didn't know the new Milton Keynes is in Monte Carlo, crazy right!

Fuck you've seen the paparazzi photos right...?

Yep! So what's going on with Saltburn guy???

Yeah go on tell us how it went

Or how it's going

yourusername posted a story

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rainylana · 11 months

Text

“Can’t sleep?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you and eddie can’t sleep.

warnings: mentions of postpartum, mentions of abuse and eddie’s dad, so much fluff it may kill you, mom reader! dad eddie!

When he couldn’t sleep, he watched his baby. Watched her breath, stir in her sleep and make little noises and huffs. He’d pull up an old rocking chair wayne had given him, sit there with a pillow behind his back, often falling asleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

Her nursery was rainbow themed, pinks and purples everywhere with big, white clouds. Her crib had stars painted on them and glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling. In the day time, the room was bright and colorful, but it was dark now, only the glow of the neon stickers above his head and a revolving fish nightlight on the nightstand across the room.

His eyes dropped closed, but he didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a moment of watching his darling angel sleep. Little Joanna Munson.

Being a father had completely changed his life for the better, but it was also the scariest thing he’d ever had do to. He worried about so many more things, things he’d never had to worry about before. But the most overwhelmed thing so far was the love that he had in his heart. He didn’t think he’d love anything more in the world than you when the both of you met, but his heart grew another size when you gave birth to her, and he was absolutely, unconditionally in love with his baby, so much that it almost hurt.

It made him love you so much more, so grateful for giving him something so precious, something that was a part of him to live on. He was indebted to you, forever grateful. He worshipped you like a god, admired all the things your body could do. You struggled with postpartum a lot, something he tried his best to understand, helped as best as he could. He tried his best to take care of Joanna as much as he could, not that he minded it. She was only two months old, but he knew she was incredibly smart. She was already wrapping her tiny hand around his finger, pulling at his hair and staring at him with her big, brown eyes that she had gotten from him.

“Can’t sleep?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling softly when he saw you. He shook his head, beckoning for you to come over. You did so, sitting on his lap and cuddling up to his chest, smiling at your baby in the crib. He leaned his head against yours, wrapping his arms around your body as he slowly rocked the chair. “What you doing up?” He asked quietly.

“Woke up and you were gone.” You yawned. “Knew you were in here. Has she stirred any?”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’s fast asleep.”

You closed your eyes, his soft breathing a lullaby for you, his body warm and comforting. Eddie still wouldn’t close his eyes, trained on the pink onesie and head of hair that he could see in the dark. Sometimes he cried when he watched her, he wouldn’t dare tell you that, but he did.

“I’m so in love with you.” Eddie squeezed you. “I can’t ever thank you enough for giving me this life. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” You said sleepily. “How many times do I have to say it? You deserve this, us.”

He kissed your forehead, his cheek against your ear. “I never thought I could love anything as much as I do her. It’s terrifying, loving someone so much.”

“I know.” You opened your eyes, finding your daughter in the dark. “It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it? Sometimes I think my heart is going to explode.”

He nodded in agreement, parting his lips in deep thought. That’s it exactly what it felt like. His heart was going to explode. “She’s so perfect, isn’t she? And so small.”

You chuckled, your feet curled up on his thigh. “Thank you. I take most of the credit for that.”

“Honey, you get all the credit.” He smirked. “She’s your exact replica. You can definitely tell she’s your baby.”

“She’s your baby, too, sweetheart.” You looked to him, cupping his cheek. “She may have my hair and my nose, but she’s got your eyes, and that is a telltale sign that she’s your baby.”

His heart warmed at your words, his cheeks blushing in the dark. “Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?”

You smiled tiredly, grabbing his jaw with your fingers to pull his lips down to yours, giving him a sweet, delicate kiss. “You’re a wonderful father, Eddie.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I’m terrified I’m gonna end up like my old man.”

“Eddie,” You sighed. “I promise you that’s not going to happen.”

It was his worst fear, a nightmare that he feared would eventually come true. He’d drive you away, raise a child that he’d beat and abuse, who would later grow up to hate him. He didn’t want his family to repeat the one he’d had before.

“Hey,” You noticed the swell of his eyes in the dark. “Eddie, look at me, baby.” You held his cheek. “You are not your father. You’re not going to be your father. You’ve got me and her to keep you steady, just like you keep me steady, right? We’re a team. You don’t let me fall, I don’t let you fall.”

He let a tear fall, nodding and whispering a choked yeah. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek as you held him tightly through the night.

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson drabbles

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stargirlsturniololover · 3 months

Text

valentine

request: si😜from my rainbow nonnie

warnings: inappropriate jokes (it’s literally jake and johnnie), idk shy reader (she like never talks), platonic johnnie

summary: jake takes you and johnnie shopping for a video.

also: jake is steady yapping in this i’m so sorry

also also: i hate this☺️😊😁

also^3: it’s this bunny ☹️

also also also also: i named it after the laufey song cuz i had no idea what else to call this disaster.

fit check:

jake (IDC BRO I LOVE THIS FIT TOO MUCH)

johnnie

reader

jake webber x shy!coquette!reader

“what’s up guys… we’re here today at target to do some valentines day shopping!” jake yells at the camera, as you and johnnie stand on either side of him.

“and we have a guest, y/n… she isn’t cool and emo like us” johnnie voices, looking over at you as you shuffle awkwardly farther behind jake.

“johnnie, she’s cool because she isn’t emo bro,” jake mumbles, giving you a small smile.

“i actually think emos are cool,” you mumble as jake and johnnie both give you an appreciative nod and pat on the back.

“thanks baby….. also…. no johnnie and i are still not a lesbian couple, or latinas, or old women. also, y/n is not here to babysit us on our outting from the retirement home.” jake says, grabbing your hand and walking with you and johnnie into the store.

when the three of you waltz into target, jake grabs a buggie.

“so the first part of the store we’re hitting up is the food, obviouslyyyy” jake sing songs, pushing the buggie to where the food resides.

“what if i hit you up first…?” johnnie questions, smirking at jake.

“bro not in front of my girlfriend.” jake sighs, as you give a sheepish grin.

upon arriving at the food, the three of you spot a wall of different nerds clusters.

jake and johnnie turn to you, knowing how much you love them.

“bunnnyyy look, ‘s your favorite!” jake practically shouts, grabbing one of each flavor and color type.

“jake, you really don’t have to get me that many… ‘m ok with one bag.” you whisper, not wanting to cause a scene.

“c’mon y/n you know the second we get home you’re gonna put on your pajamas and down a bag of those cancer causing balls,” johnnie adds, laughing at how your face turns a deep shade of pink, and how he used the word “balls”.

“stop it man,” jake mumbles, as he rolls the cart to another aisle.

“ok so this aisle is filled with some target brand delicacies.” jake shouts, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera.

“MMM look at this, it’s strawberry white popcorn?? where’s the white coming from.” johnnie asks, turning to face you and jake.

“i can tell you where a different sort of white stuff comes from.” jake smirks, as johnnie guffaws.

you tug on jake’s arm as the johnnie cut the camera before the next section of the video.

“jake…?” you whisper up at him, as he bends down to be eye level with you.

“what’s wrong princess?” he questions, looking you over to make sure you’re alright.

“i gotta go to the bathroom, i’ll be right back… please don’t go off too far…” you mumble, not wanting to lose jake or johnnie.

“ok princess, we’ll stay right here.” he assures you, pressing a light kiss to your forehead as you make your way to the restroom.

after you peed and washed your hands, you adjusted the bow in your hair and made sure you looked perfect for the camera.

once you left the bathroom, you went back to where you left jake and johnnie, but they were nowhere to be found.

you then started to freak out because you specifically asked for jake to stay put.

you turn down the food aisle and head towards the decoration section.

as you round the corner, you heard the boys before you saw them.

you peeped around the corner and saw the two men playing around with some valentines themed game set.

“hi… ‘m back” you squeaked, coming to join them.

“baby… look what we found, johnnie and i figured you’d love it.” jake says as he picks up a giant stuffed bunny.

“oh jake…” you cried, running into his hold as the bunny was sandwiched between the two of you.

“it was mainly my idea y/n/n… just so we’re clear,” johnnie snickers as he zooms in on the two of you hugging.

you press your chin to jake’s sternum as you look up at him through thick eyelashes as johnnie cuts the camera for the final time.

“alright now let’s check out and go home so we can try all of our goodies!” johnnie hollers, pushing the buggie to the check out area.

“johnnie you go ahead, imma take y/n to the makeup aisle.” jake smiles, grabbing you by the waist and walking you to the makeup.

“thanks for coming with us to film today baby, i know you get camera shy,” jake thanks you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“‘s no problem honey, i just love hanging out with you… i don’t care what we do.”

“oh stop, you’re making me blush,” jake giggles at your words as the two of you arrive at the makeup.

“i only need a few things,” you hum, already knowing exactly what you came here for.

after a couple minutes of you looking around and jake admiring you, you came across the mascara you needed all the way on the topmost shelf.

“jakey, c’mere,” you beckon jake over and point to the mascara you need.

“can you get that for me?” you ask sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.

“of course i can precious,” he says, leaning up and plucking the mascara off the shelf.

you smile at him as he hands you the mascara, “alrighty, we’re done over here.” you say, grabbing jake’s hand.

“we should probably go find johnnie before he gets kidnapped or something.” jake says, as the two of you start the walk to the checkouts.

“he’ll be fine for just one more second,” you say, stopping in your tracks, which causes jake to stop as well.

“mmm why angel, you know we can’t go trusting johnnie alone.”

“cause i wanna do this jake,” you hum, confidence overtaking you as you slip your arms around his shoulders and plant a kiss on his lips.

laughter is all you here when the two of you pull away to a camera right at your face.

“you…. sicko…..” you huff, chasing johnnie in circles.

jake giggles at his girlfriend and best friend’s antics, knowing he made the right choice to film today.

#jake webber #jake and johnnie #valentines day #laufey #jake webber x reader #jake webber x you #platonic!johnnie #johnnie guilbert <3 #Spotify

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lolahauri · 1 month

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: ̗̀➛ Laughing Jack: Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Licks his cum off of you so you don’t have to get up and leave him <3

He’s so clingy and annoying lol.

Probably makes you a balloon animal and gives you candy to make up for your soreness.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your entire body, but not exactly for wholesome reasons like Toby.

He just loves how small you are. Even if you’re 6ft tall, he’s 7+ feet so he towers over you no matter what height and weight you are.

His favorite part of himself is his tongue, it’s crazy long and works some real magic.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he’d like cumming on you more than inside you. He loves seeing your body painted with it.

And when he cums, there’s A LOT of it, pretty thick too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really doesn’t have any, he isn’t shy about telling you his fantasies and interests.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He doesn’t really have much experience, i’m sure he’s charmed a couple people into dating him somehow.

But in general, most people are scared of him so he does not get laid.

Except for you, now. ;)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Picking you up, holding you by the waist, and using you like a sex doll.

He’d also love strapping you into a sex swing, that way his hands can free roam.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deeply unserious sometimes.

He tries to be a little normal and focus on your pleasure, but he’s also a literal clown.

There’s been times where you looked away briefly, and when you looked back he had that fake glasses & mustache thing on.

Or like one of those rainbow pinwheel hats.

LMAOAOMDO

Sorry i’m trying so hard not to ugly laugh at this.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Black and white, curly.

He styles it to your preference. So if you like a full bush, he’ll keep it. If you like it fully shaved, he will do that.

Our considerate king <3

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not very romantic, sorry.

It’s a mix of rough and humorous sex.

But he does love to praise you, so that helps.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t think he does often, it’s just not fun like sex is.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise, degrading, dirty talk, oral fixation, facials, biting, voyeur, public sex, roleplay, scratching, size kink, bondage, bdsm, cum eating, cnc, choking, femdom, overstimulation.

Gangbang, he’d happily invite others to fuck you with him if you wanted.

Would absolutely want you to step on him in some high heels.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere and everywhere. Just name the place and time, it’ll be done.

Maybe prefers his room cause that’s where all his toys and costumes are.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Same as Jane, nothing specific, he just get’s horny sometimes.

But also, anytime he thinks about past experiences with you, or randomly starts to daydream about fucking you, he gets horny immediately.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I can’t think of much he’d refuse, he’s kinky as fuck.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving, he’ll use that tongue on you any chance he can get. And considering his tongue is probably as long, or longer, than his dick, he loves fucking you with it.

Too good at it tbh.

He does like to throat fuck you as well.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starts off slower to get you aroused enough you can take him without any pain. Also does a lot of foreplay.

Slowly gets most fast and rough as the sex goes on.

Expect bruises and scratch marks to appear the next day if he was especially rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t do quickies unless it’s just oral.

Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until there’s more time. He likes to build it up with teasing and foreplay, quickies don’t leave enough time to really enjoy sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Of course. Like i said before, he is down for pretty much everything, and at any place and time.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Very high stamina, he’d go 10 rounds if you asked.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Has every toy you could think of, and he’ll use them on you or himself, whatever you want.

He’s one of those people that has a full on sex room/dungeon.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The biggest tease ever, he’ll have you crying on your knees, begging him to fuck you. (or until you take control and slut him out)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Besides talking, he is surprisingly quiet.

Lots of deep growls and grunts, but they’re not very loud at all. Only you would be able to hear him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves using flavored lube and condoms to add some spice to a usually boring product.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Massive. I’m talking like 7.5-8 inches.

Striped like his tongue ;P

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. Once a day, but 2-3 rounds each time.

If your sex drive is lower or higher, he’ll happily accommodate that though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t.

He probably doesn’t even sleep at all.

#creepypasta #x reader #smut #smut alphabet #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader

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quillandink333 · 1 month

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The Other’s Choice • Pt. 1

Credit to @winterxisxcomingx for the beautiful banner ♡︎

SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL ~ Read ahead at your own risk!

Faced with the harsh reality of Heaven’s steadfast opposition, the angel of joy is forced to make a drastic decision with gruesome consequences, but luckily she isn’t alone for long.

WARNINGS: Abrahamic imagery (obviously), pseudocest, assault, extreme heights, hunger

Part I • Part II • Part III

An eternity seemed to have passed since Emily had taken the irreversible dive from Heaven and begun her journey through Purgatory before finally manifesting in Hell’s scarlet sky. And yet there was such a long distance left between her and the ground that she still couldn’t make out a single thing happening down below. Her stomach was achingly empty—how many days had it been? It was impossible to know without the light of the sun to let her.

Her windswept hair obscuring her vision as she fell, she reflected on the moments leading up to this. They’d done it! Now even Sera couldn’t deny the reality proven by the unrelenting efforts of the Hazbin Hotel. Yet to Emily’s fury, the old hag was still too stubborn to allow word of it to get out even among the archangels.

The newly redeemed sinner, whose name she’d learnt was Sir Pentious, had appeared suddenly in Chastity Palace, somehow becoming the first human soul in history to bypass Saint Peter and the pearly gates. While the senior seraph didn’t take well to his arrival, the younger was over the moon, wasting no time befriending him and giving him the grand tour of his new, and rightful, home above the clouds. The conversations she’d shared with him were not only groundbreaking but deeply upsetting. The upsetting part, however, wasn’t the story of his noble sacrifice nor was it Adam’s brutal and shameless acts of fascism, but the fact that she couldn’t share any of it with the rest of Heaven.

Faced with this, she’d done the only other thing she could have. If there was no way for her to serve the sinners’ worthy cause in Heaven, she would simply have to leave. And so she would, but first, she’d penned a note to her elder.

Word Count: 0.8k

“I hereby vow never to return until the right changes have been made. This is not my choice, it is my duty. Thank you for protecting me, Sera. Goodbye.”

She’d never been so cold and blunt to anyone in all her aeons of life; it had destroyed her to write it, but soon regret would serve no purpose to her anymore. With a deep breath, she steadied herself and stepped with resolve toward the edge of the rainbow bridge. She closed her eyes.

Out of nowhere, all the world came to a screeching halt, the jarring loss of momentum causing her heart to nearly leap out her throat.

“I got ya.’”

A few seconds earlier, Lucifer had looked up through the glass walls of his new suite at the hotel just in time to see what could only be likened to a falling star.

Without thinking, he’d bolted into action, racing to catch the little one right as she’d started to descend past the city skyline. She could’ve been shish-kebabbed by the spire of a skyscraper if he’d taken any longer to spot her.

His heart was pounding after his miles-long sprint through the air. “You alright?”

Emily ogled up at her saviour with wide eyes, failing to realise he’d asked her a question for a good several seconds. “Y-Yes. Uh…thank you.” He didn’t look much like a demon, dressed in white from top to bottom with strawberry blond hair and a warm red gaze. If she didn’t know better, she would think this gleaming, six-winged stranger was a seraph like herself.

“You’ve fallen,” he inferred with frantic eyes and a heavy heart. “What happened?”

But her attention was already fixated elsewhere. As the angel of joy, she possessed a divine gift that let her feel the emotions of others as if they were her own. Down below, there were people on the streets, and every last one of them was miserable. It was so much worse than she could’ve imagined. There truly wasn’t an ounce of joy to be found here. She watched as one of the wretched souls was violently defiled by another before her eyes, their cries of terror ringing in her ears clear as day. The latter’s hand clenched around the former’s neck, and suddenly she couldn’t get a breath in, a scream trapped in her throat as she could do nothing but watch. She felt sick.

Lucifer sensed her rising panic and held her closer. “Hey, look at me, you’re okay,” he urged, cradling the poor, lost princess in one arm while cupping her colourless face in his free hand. She met his gaze, her own filled with the all-consuming fear she’d had the privilege of never knowing until now. She looked like a deer in the headlights, her expression like an arrow straight to his once broken and unfeeling heart. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe.”

Her frail arms clung to him with a vicelike grip as she nodded and tearfully hid her face in his shoulder. At once, he set his sights on Pride Castle and took off soaring.

#my writing #applewings #pride and joy #prideandjoy #pride & joy #pride&joy #lucily #lucifer x emily #emily x lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #emily the seraph #emily the seraphim #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel #quillcifer 🍎🪶

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therainscene · 11 months

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Here’s a lil theory that was originally going to be part of my previous analysis but had to be cut for length and silliness:

In that analysis I looked at the symbolism of the rainbow room -- the rainbow symbolizes El’s powers and her desire to fight for the rights of outcasts like herself, but it isn’t until she remembers how loved she is that it focuses into a blinding white light.

And I also pointed out that Will, who already knows just how loved he is, is frequently bathed in white light.

Now consider:

El has a gay boyfriend whose ass is about to get dumped in favour of a strong collection of platonic bonds.

Will is swimming in platonic love but doesn’t have a boyfriend.

El started out with a rainbow and learned to condense it into white light.

Will started out with white light, but hasn’t yet learned to split it into a rainbow.

...I’m not suggesting that Will’s powers are going to be activated in a glorious blaze of iridescent cinematography when Byler becomes canon or anything...

But I’m not not suggesting that.

#stranger things #will has powers #byler #willel #will byers #el hopper #analysis

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kazemi-archive · 6 months

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I Would Give It All Up

Pairing: Faerie Prince!Kita Shinsuke x Wingless Faerie!Reader WC: 2k Genre: fluff, very light angst CW: mentions of reader insecurity

PART EIGHT OF JUMP AND YOU WILL FIND YOUR WINGS AS YOU FALL

Crown Prince Kita Shinsuke seems to be floating on cloud nine. That’s what seems to be the talk of the entire kingdom. Words whispered from one faerie’s lips to another’s ears. Passed around like the hottest gossip. Its incredibly difficult for anyone to not notice how inexplicably happy Shinsuke seems to be.

There’s whispers about how he seems to always be carrying around books now. It’s not that Shinsuke hadn’t been studious before, but he could almost never be seen without a book now. The librarians gossip about his late nights in the hidden shelves, like he’s searching for something, trying to memorize contents of the books he finds.

He is trying to memorize. He tries to fill his minds with new history and topics to tell you, so he may whisper stories to you when he visits your home in the afternoons. He is trying to search for something. He turns over every page in every book he holds. Looking for a way to give you wings of your own. He doesn’t mind that you don’t have wings. But he knows that you do. He knows it’s a wish of yours to be able to fly on your own. So he looks, searches. Day and night.

Crown Prince Kita Shinsuke has requested something unusual. The tailors whisper among each other in hushed tones as they work in their offices. Orders coming down for new clothes for the Crown Prince. His usual orders called for all black clothes. The occasional gold formal wear. Nothing but sleek elegance that was befitting of his title.

The new orders had come down, a request for the stitching. Lavender colored stitches now holding together the black cotton, adorning it with elegant designs sewn into the fabric. The whole kingdom whispers gossip about the usually stoic prince now with a permanent smile fixated on his lips. They try to piece together what’s changed in him. The seriousness fading into gentleness.

The kingdom tries to not stare too hard, too long, or stare at all. But they can’t help it eventually. As the summer fades to autumn, they’re all sure that their eyes are playing tricks on them. Double takes are done as the prince passes.

His once pure white and gray wings have started to shimmer a different color. A thin sheen of purple covering them from base to tip. The whispers get louder, no one can explain the occurrence. No one can recall this happening before, one’s wings changing colors past adolescence.

The only one seemingly unsurprised by this new development is his grandmother. She seems unbothered, looks at them fondly even. Her only explanation coming from stories that were passed to her from her own grandmother. Something that hadn’t been seen in generations. A sign of his love, his affections for his hidden girl.

He spends his afternoons, sneaking away from his duties early to find you. He adores how you look when he visits your home, the way your cheeks heat up when he always greets you with “how is my beloved today?” He isn’t entirely sure when he started it, but he had quickly adorned you with the title of ‘my beloved’ and you’d since had no complaints.

He finds himself smiling more whenever he’s with you in your home. The crystals that hang from your ceiling refracting the sunlight in rainbows across your form as you dance around the space. Even when he isn’t with you, your laughter rings in his ears, memories of how you pull him to spin with you.

He knows he’s in love.

He does the chores of your house, hushing you when you try to get up to help him. He always laughs, ushering you back to your seat. “I know ya can do it, beloved. Ya shouldn’t have ta.” Kisses pressed to your cheeks as he insists. “Shouldn’t need t’lift a pretty finger.” He always laughs when he says it, but he means it truly. Never wants you to live without his offered assistance again.

He’s there as much as possible. But he can’t always be. When his duties force him to be elsewhere, he sends the fox spirits to watch over you. It’s where he finds you today. On another adventure that they’ve taken you on, accompanying you into the edges of the forest.

He hears your laugh before he spots you, and even then he hands back for a few moments. Your hands are tangled in the fur of one of the foxes, your front pressed against its back as it races against its companion. Your hair is caught in the wind, getting in your face but your smile is as large as ever, your eyes squeezed shut.

He imagines that he would do anything to be able to have you be this happy always. To keep the smile on your face just like that. To keep your laughter.

His wings take him towards you before he’s consented to the motion, pulling him forward until he’s flying next to you.

“Havin’ fun out here?”

You’re still laughing when you open your eyes to look at him. “Shin!” You giggle around his name and tug softly at the fur of your fox spirit, feeling it slow down under you. The second it fully stops you’re flinging your arms around Shinsuke’s neck with a smile. “You’ll have to race with us next time!”

He smiles at you fondly, fingers picking a twig out of your hair with a laugh. “Yes. Next time I will.” He chuckles and helps you gain your balance on the ground below you, lowering himself and letting his wings drop. He’s gotten used to the walking by now. Happy to stroll leisurely alongside you. “Would ya allow me to show ya something?”

You eagerly nod when he outstretches his hand, following his guide further into the forest. Parts you never dared to wander into on your own. It was within the boundaries of the kingdom, out of your touch. It’s idle chatter as the two of you walk. Vague conversation about what he did today. Rambling about the adventure the foxes had taken you on.

You pause every now and then, small gasps of wonder when some trinket along the forest floor. He pauses patiently with you whenever you do, gathering loose twigs as you walk. You barely notice as you tuck your trinkets into your satchel. It’s not until he’s placing his makeshift crown atop your head that you even notice that he’s been twisting the twigs into its shape as you move along.

“A crown for my beloved.” He whispers as he adjusts it on your head. You giggle and brush your fingers along it as he tucks leaves and berries into the accessory. It’s lost on you it’s true meaning. His imagination of placing a real crown on your head gets lost in the wind that carries both of your laughter away when you twirl between the spots of sunlight that split the shade of the trees.

His fingers dutifully cover your eyes as you both near his surprise spot, your giggles filling his ears as you trust him to guide your steps. “Okay ready?” When the light filters back into your sight you nearly gasp at where he’s brought you.

“What is this place!?” You rush forwards easily, giddily touching ceramic mushrooms just bigger than you. There’s small sparkly trinkets creating pathways between them and your fingers rush to inspect them.

“There’s a village,” he explains softly, content to watch you jump between different areas, amazed, “a human village not too far from this edge of the forest.” You look back expectantly, only to find him right next to you. He opens your fingers, having just closed over a small jewel, and takes your treasure, tucking it gently into your makeshift headpiece. “Their children come here often, leaving offerings for us.”

Your face seems to glow, having never had this experience before. He lets you take it in. Helps you adorn your headpiece with the jewels you find, sticking them together with small bits of tree sap.

You’re still giddy by the time that he leads you back out of the forest, back to what you’ve both claimed as your own meadow now. You’re sighing in content as the two of you settle into the grass among the flowers in the late light of the day. You’re happy. You both are. You didn’t mean to let the words slip when they did.

“I wish I could fly with you, Shin.” Shinsuke’s fingers pausing mid-trace on your skin makes you realize that you’d said it out loud. “I’m sorry. I just-”

He shakes his head and pulls you into a seated position in front of him, facing away. “Sit here my beloved,” he mumbles and presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders. “I’ll give you wings right now.”

Your head is tilted, confused, but you trust him. You let him be, only gasping slightly when you feel a cool liquid against your back. You learn the feeling to be paint. Shinsuke is diligent with his work. Quiet as he traces the pattern onto your back. Outlines of wings that fold against your skin, the open back of your dress allowing him access to paint them folded to the front of your torso, to wrap them onto the tops of your shoulders, folding over your collarbones.

You can see the tips of them painted in metallic gold and you wish them real. Staring at them like they would fold off your skin and take you flying with Shinsuke. You can’t see your own back, the pattern he traces onto your skin with the paint, a pattern that matches his own. You can’t see the way the light filtering through his wings onto your back makes him imagine your wings matching his in color too.

You’re as quiet as he it through the process, letting him work. It’s only when he’s paused for longer than a minute that you realized he’s finally finished. You wonder to him aloud, “are they pretty Shinsuke?”

He sighs slightly, leaning to press his lips to where the base of them would be. “My beloved, everything about you is beautiful.” His fingers trace the outline of one, sending shivers down your spine as his lips press kisses to the outline of the other. “Your wings would be beautiful,” he admits, “but you’re perfect without them.” Your lips tremble as you breathe quietly, eyes fluttering under his touches. “You’re gorgeous as you are. Every freckle, every singlle thing you call a blemish, every dip in your skin. Wings or no wings.”

“Do you mean it, Shin?” Your whisper is breathless as you turn to face him when his kisses reach the tip of your shoulder. He’s quick to catch your lips in a kiss. Its soft, consuming as his arms pull you against him.

“My beloved, I would give it all up for you.” The full weight of his words is lost on you. The implications that he would leave behind his crown, his title, his kingdom all for you. The things you had no idea he had. You only knew the smallest basis he admitted to. He would give up his flight for you. “Come here.” He’s gentle as he pulls you back down to lay in the grass, the setting sun making the gold on your back glitter as you both lay on your stomachs. “Would ya like to touch them?”

He asks the question casually, as you lie in your meadow. The intimacy of it not completely lost on you as your fingers brush against his wings gently. They flutter under your unsure touch and you notice how content his face seems to get, eyes falling shut as he basks in the way your fingers run along the edge of his wings.

He would be yours the second you asked. He knows it. He’d give all of it up for you.

TAGLIST : OPEN (SEND AN ASK)

#𓇻 Faerie

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daincrediblegg · 2 years

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Dream of the Endless Alphabet Headcanons

A/N: Well. I’m back on my bull. I’m deeply in love with this anthropomorphic personification and I’m going to make it everyone else’s problem. As usual with these horny works, 18+ only. Thank you, you’re welcome, and Enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after)

Where to begin with him… you wouldn’t expect him to behave as he does after the fact. For what is this carnal dance but fleeting feeling to an Endless? You would envision him laying in bed, brooding silence. And then? The slow and somber rise, donning his coat again, for he has duties to attend to, leaving the bed cold as the pallor of his skin.

… But this is not so for you. For when he breathes his last of bliss he sinks deep into the down of your bed, he stays with you. Not even so much as moving himself from your embrace, perhaps even seeking it out, still so gentle and perhaps even timid, despite that not moments ago you were far closer. Perhaps your fantasy would be warranted were you a mere fling… But as his touch, as delicate as the sheets around you will tell… he loves you. Truly. And with that, he will not want to part with so wantonly. And so you will rest a while. You in his arms and him in yours. Perhaps not to sleep but to find comfort in one another. And not just in touch but in words, poetry trickling off his pinkened lips in dulcet tones. After all, there’s no rush in savoring any moment he can have with you. For as much as he’s loved and lost in all his eons of existence, every single one is never the same, and feeling what he feels with you is worth cherishing.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t quite know what to make of that… He’s… he’s not like any man. His form is his own and he chooses how he appears. It changes over the ages. He’s never felt discomfort in his own skin- or favored any part of him. He likes who he is all over. The way he is at any given moment. And you? He feels much the same way. He’s a creator himself. He has shaped so many dreams and nightmares, from the beautiful and enchanting to the horrific and terrifying. But in so many creations he has learned that everything holds its own beauty in a sense. Whether it be a grotesque shape that holds its metaphor for human psyche or a beauty’s physicality that inspires horror… there is so much meaning in these things that mere mortals could never comprehend. Not even in themselves. And he sees it in you. The way you carry your very soul through the world bewitches him in a way he’s not sure he can describe. But it’s all because you are you- and there will never be another the same. So whatever being created you he knows not, but he knows your form suits you and what you mean to him, and it draws him to you all the more for it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

You would have to believe it to see it, but the dream lord’s seed literally shines. It flows like honey, bitter or tart like berries (certainly far more pleasant than any mortal’s), and it flows like liquid pearl, subtle rainbows that shimmer beneath the milky white surface when you catch it in the right light (not that that should occur often, though).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh my dear, there are many dirty secrets spanning millennia that it would take a whole human lifetime to relay them. He is the bearer of the collective living unconscious, after all. He knows more dirty secrets than even one man could possibly imagine. He will be reluctant to admit a good many of them, but one he might be willing to admit to you is that… well… there isn’t an inch of the dreaming that hasn’t seen its fair share of couplings (yes, not even Fiddler’s Green is a stranger to lovers taking to a shady glade). He never quite saw the appeal of doing such things in such wondrous places… until he became infatuated with you, that is.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I should say he does. He is endless, after all. If not by his own physical experiences from time immemorial, the dreams of others that he has observed over millenia certainly proves most interesting study material. Not to mention much unsolicited advice from his dearly detested sibling (of which he receives with an interesting abundance especially when word gets out that he has taken a new lover- some of which meant to trick him into foibles in his new romance- so be warned, but not worried. Dream knows very well that the best source of inspiration for new experiences is the one who will be a part of that- so in these matters, your council will be his greatest asset, and he will certainly never fail to please in that regard.)

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Above all, he wishes to be able to meet your eyes. There’s little that he desires in the whole of creation than to look upon you- especially when he’s inside you- and to kiss you, and to tell you that you are loved by him. Whilst simultaneously hoping beyond all possibility that with that understanding- with knowing who and what he is- all of him… that you feel the same. And to see it there. Written on your face and whispered in your sighs against his skin? It means more to him than you know.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Dream is… well… he doesn’t seem that much different than usual. Still as stoic and brooding as ever even in romance but… for you? Recently he’s found he’s taken on a bit of a lighter air. He’s been changed. Not just from his imprisonment but by his return to his role and function. For as many times as he’s loved and lost he now has you and this new love in this new age and there is a brightness to you that he finds a bit infectious. Now, don’t go expecting him to be the picture of a blushing beau for that will most likely never be his way, but… you will be no stranger to a coy smirk. A gentle- barely there smile as he awaits the next press of his lips to yours. Severity to a degree lessened on the features of his face that is a result of your words in his ears. And he will not refrain from such gestures when being intimate with you either.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

There is… truly not much of a carpet to speak of- and thats just… canon, from what I’ve seen. He could change it. Might be influenced to do so should he see such a thing in your fantasies. And if he did, it would be as wild as the hair on his head surely. Not unkempt, of course, but… different.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Intimacy really brings out the best in Morpheus. None would guess it of him, considering how cold and detached he seems in front of most company. But in yours? Alone? The walls lower a little, just enough to allow you and you alone a glimpse into the wealth and wonder of what he truly feels. You see, the truth is he’s a romantic at the very heart of him.. But it overwhelms even him, and so he does his best to control it lest his own love consume him. So you’ll have to forgive his gentle touches, the delicate brush of fingertips on your skin, how softly he holds you in the night, but know it is so much more than most will ever see. Especially in his eyes that often overflow with his love for you. And this is why he enjoys your company the most. Because it’s not often he lets himself go even a little, but with you? There’s absolutely no reason for him not to.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Oh he doesn’t do this often. If at all. He doesn’t really need to, to begin with. But also if he does feel something for someone to the degree that he feels he does need to touch himself for some relief, he will restrain himself as much as possible, because if he gives into his desires, his sibling will certainly know of it, and he can’t have that. Possibly a moot point since it will only allow his own desire for you fester to boiling regardless… but hey I mean what can you do when your family is like his?

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Both giving and receiving, but allow me to emphasize that it’s not quite in a traditional sense that he enjoys it. It’s not as though he necessarily needs it himself- he is endless, after all. There is no authority to which he needs to supplicate himself for approval, nor will he demand such a thing from a lover such as you. But when he’s with you… it’s like a match sparks to life inside him. He cannot help but express in as many words how much he loves your touch, the feel of you, with him and around him. It’s like the words of a thousand poets who have ever felt the spark of love write the very words that trickle off his tongue but what the world would not know is that the truth is he had a hand in those very words, and that his love for you, and your love for him is what makes them real. But even more than doling out such elegant praise upon you is hearing it from you. Your own words. His may be calculated but yours are spontaneous and wild and do not exist until you care to utter them. And it is this poetry of your own, unique entirely to you that spurs him on more than anything in the world. Knowing that it is a result of how he makes you feel- and in turn how you make him feel? There is absolutely no greater bliss to him. And whatever you give you shall get in turn.

Also… he may enjoy watching you sleep, watching you dream. He will not do so without your consent, of course. Or do so from afar (which is not unlike how he has observed other sleepers… it’s only different in that he has much stronger feelings for you). And of course, he would never do so in a way that unsettles you. But he finds seeing you in such a state of peace relaxes him as well. Knowing also that your mind still conjures him even when he is not in the dreaming, in the waking world beside you… sometimes he can’t help but caress your cheek, Your form, perhaps even give you a dream that merits the sounds you make when he reaches lower…

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere and everywhere. While a bed is well and good… the fantasy of taking a lover under the cover of night… the temptation of a kiss in the rain… Of the rolling of his hips against yours as the thunder in a distant gray sky, by a fire, or in a sunlit meadow beneath the shade of a wizened tree, strewn with flowers… There’s no place he cannot see appeal making love in. He has seen many such fantasies after all, and he figures what is the point of them all if he cannot emulate some of them with you?

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, nothing piques Lord Morpheus’s interest like a beautiful mind. By one who is intelligent, imaginative, wise, and not short on bravery. He didn’t see much of these things in people, before or after his imprisonment. But lately he’s been coming around to it more- even though people do not see these things in themselves. And in you? Whether it is particularly true or not to you in your own mind it is what he sees without a doubt.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not be a master to you. He’d always had a mind to this, long before one such as you even existed, but… His imprisonment… Calliope’s… It’s such a thing he cannot abide, and he’s seen more than enough of it for one lifetime. Even if in a fantasy, it drudges up all those horrible memories of locked rooms and menacing footsteps, of dungeons, and cages of glass and the cold and damp of the stale condensation of his own breath on his naked skin. He cannot see it in him to possess you in any way as a result, and he would ask the same of you in turn. You are his equal in all things if you are truly loved by him, and as such he will provide nothing less to you in intimacy as well. That being said, it should also be noted that your consent matters to him more than anything else. He will not so much as lay a hand on you without a sign from you that it is what you want of him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Well… he will never admit which he prefers, though perhaps he doesn’t truly have one. On the one hand, he does love putting his mouth upon you, drawing from you a rush of thoughts and ideas and fantasies as his cheeks hollow, as though he is feeding not just upon you and the sweetness that flows from you like ambrosia, but on the thoughts that swirl in your head themselves. And on the other… he will admit, your touch upon him, the pleasure in reciprocity… the feel of another similarly drawing his love out of him- more powerfully than he could ever expect of any mortal or God alike- to know also how you feel much the same as he does when he reprises the act upon you, and to allow him to actually enjoy the comfort of another… that is quite something special to him as well. So perhaps he doesn’t have to choose- as is the case with so many things in the world.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Morpheus prefers making love slowly and sensually by far. He knows better than most that love is a wild and varied thing but he himself prefers to treat the act itself much like one might approach poetry. It is a dance and dalliance of form. Practiced, calculated, and yet passionate and spontaneous. All with a single goal to him: to find a greater closeness with you. He will take his time with you, then. Pouring over every part of you, delving and exploring the depths of you until every part of you has seen his love for you. Assuring that you feel him as much as he feels you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t often prefer them. He is not so driven by desperation in such a way that would lead him to abandon his senses. Besides, he’s as patient as they come. He can wait to make love to you properly… but that’s not to say he hasn’t had moments, overwhelmed with love for you. Where your kiss has left him wanting with an ache that he simply cannot shake. That drives him to tuck you into quiet dark corners, bodies obscured by his coat of stars as he sends your senses reeling into oblivion.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

On the whole, no. This is not to say he’s not willing to be adventurous with you- not in the slightest. But there is a wealth of difference between adventure and risk. He will never seek to compromise your honor in any way or put you in an uncomfortable position, nor will he try something new without asking you about it first. But he is certainly not opposed when something piques his interest of you or you of him… to explore it in the moment with you. Of that he is certain he will never tire.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

A long time. A damn good long time if he has the mind to. A being such as he is not subject to the same restrictions of mortals. He could, as a matter of objective fact, go all night long. So this being said, he ensures your ultimate pleasure first before he himself joins you in bliss, but will be sure to follow you, close behind if not at the exact same moment. And should you wish it, it will not be long before he is ready to please you again.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t precisely own toys, but if it is what you wish… he certainly could make them. He would like to think he is enough (and truthfully, because of who he is, that is as a matter of fact usually the case), but if it is simply a matter of heightening your own pleasure and experience, he cannot argue with that, and will happily indulge you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh boy. His teasing could very well be the end of you. He won’t keep you in suspense all the livelong day… lest that is what you wish. But he is very good at timing it out. He will mostly tease you with his words, or light touches meant to spark your attention, then keep you on edge as he waits for you to tell him exactly what you need of him. He will not ask, he will not goad. He will simply wait for any sign from you that you want more of him. Then and only then will he grant you what you wish of him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

With Morpheus, it is entirely dependent on the situation. If he so chooses he can be as silent as the grave, in fact. But that occurrence is extremely rare, best reserved for dalliances that require a certain level of discretion that would otherwise not be required. But when it is you two alone? His moans are sometimes like a melody, deep, and rich, and others swirling airy choruses of pleasure. He’s never one to shout, and nothing that tumbles from those rosy lips will ever be brash or coarse. The epitome of music in the ears is all you will ever hear from him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He should be loath to admit it to anyone other than you, but he quite enjoys (and perhaps even prefers) making love to you in the waking world. He loves the dreaming as well, don’t get him wrong, for it is a part of him as much as he is a part of it… but most humans don’t see their love of the dreaming nearly as much in the waking world. They love the dreaming when they’re in it but put all their worth and importance in their waking life. He is used to that. He understands that… but yet then you in the waking world love him as fiercely as you might in the dreaming. And you show him that you are not alone in this for all the wonder you see in the world, of how your dreams and ideas and love for him and what he represents shapes the world as you see it and how it sees you, in spite of all he’s witnessed from other more wretched humans to the contrary. You’re easily the most staunch reminder he’s received that his existence is more vital than he realizes sometimes. And he loves you for that, and wishes to pay tribute to it in your own realm.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Though you all know I love getting into the specifics, here… I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. Morpheus is of the Endless, after all. His form is never fixed. It changes by his will and his alone… but where your desires lie are also taken into account. So close your eyes, and imagine what you will, for when you open them, whatever your deepest fantasies could conjure is what he can provide.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

… God how does one exactly describe the sex drive of the anthropomorphic personification of the collective unconscious? It’s… quite chaotic, honestly. Sometimes he burns with the thought of touching you and others it’s not exactly his primary focus. This isn’t to say he has periods of non-desire for you, but sex is not the most important thing for him just… in general. He’s in love with you for who you are first and foremost. The rest is as you like.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The King of Dreams has not much of a need for sleep himself. It’s ironic, he knows, but it is simply who he is. And he will stay awake, as long as you are conscious yourself, for he will not want to miss a single moment he could spend in your waking presence, knowing every little bit of you that he can. But the moment you close your eyes, and drift into his realm… you would be surprised to learn that he joins you. He too rests his eyes, settles into the warmth of your embrace. He may not need to sleep but it is rare that he has moments of true restfulness, and somehow, he finds that task much easier when holding you in his arms.

#oops I did it again #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless #he's too pretty to not be hot and bothered about #might edit some of this later idk #egg's fics #egg's headcanons

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Fucking Married (Lukas Matsson x Roy!Sibling )

Character/s: Lukas, Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roy, Logan

Word Count: 1,908

Inspired By: Fucking Married by Harriette

A/N: I love writing for Baby Roy so much omg. This song is the main inspiration, it's so good!!! I hope you guys like this as much as I do because I'm screaming!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Something bight and peachy hit your bloodline, warming you from the inside out. You could feel your cheeks heat up against his chest, swaying side to side. You pulled yourself closer, feeling unsteady on your feet. He laughs a little, kissing the top of your head, squeezing you harder. There isn’t a second of his life that goes by where he isn’t grateful for you. All of you. Music plays from the speaker of his phone in his pocket, an old one you’d heard thousands of times. About love and life and loss. One of his favorites. Of course he would pick this, you smiled. His hand on your back, the other in your hand, swaying softly. He even hums along to the chorus, not saying anything. Not patronizing you, or lecturing you, or reminding you how expensive this whole day was. He’s just grateful to have you to himself for a few moments, getting the dance you promised him regardless of the circumstances. Behind you, they gather by the bar, ordering for themselves. No one had told the staff it was all over. It wasn’t going to happen. The worked quickly, quietly, eagerly. The rest walked gingerly, serving appetizers on silver platters. It made their eyes light up, each grabbing greedily, knowing they hadn’t eaten much since yesterday. He spins you sweetly, making you laugh, feeling childish. At the sound of this, they perked up, their faces breaking out in grins. He always known how to get you to smile, even when you weren’t really feeling it. Even when you’d been crying minutes ago.

Everyone else has gone, even the groom. Especially the groom. None thought to look here the way they had. Surrounded by colorful, oddly shaped glasses with toothpicks of fruit stabbed down the middle. Peach, mango, pineapple, apple, grapefruit. Mixed drinks of little rainbows, one spilled down the front of your white corset. No amount of rubbing will get that out. You shrug, grabbing for another. Thats how they found you. Drinking yourself drunk, chewing up the bits of fruit, hiding from everyone like you’d been doing since you were little. You were sure you stunk of some sixteen year olds favorite mixer, the sweetness of all this leaving you feeling bitter. Wronged. You were under the tables at the reception, crying softly, feeling yourself ease up a little. The whole morning had been nerve wracking. So much so you forgot how to breathe. Greeting everyone, thanking everyone, your own mother late, your father not showing up at all. You played the part, good enough to convince everyone else but yourself, and a few watchful eyes. Those that knew you, who saw you through it all, could see these pre-wedding jitters were more than that. You were petrified. Are you mad at me? You asked so much like a child, tucking your knees to your chest, trying to hide the skirt of your dress from their view. It was too big to hide under the tablecloth. Mad at you? Are you kidding? Come on kid, come and talk to us. You sniffled, chewing a cherry. When you didn’t even consider moving, you heard the groan of a man more than twice your age, watching him get to his knees. The rest protest, but he doesn’t listen. You wipe your cheeks, knowing you must look mad, your makeup ruined. He pokes his head through, wearing that familiar smile. The kind that promises everything will be okay, that you did the right thing, that he could never, ever be angry with you. It only makes you cry harder. I made a mistake. You repeat this over and over again, unable to catch your breath. He urges you out, unable to crawl under with you. Come on kiddo, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. No one’s mad at you. Eventually, you follow him out.

Kendall taps Connors shoulder, wanting to cut in. His eyes meet yours, asking if this is okay. You nod, taking Kens hand. You rest your chin on his shoulder. He’s changed the song to something more his speed, not the kind of song to slow dance to of course. It looks and sounds ridiculous and yet, you can’t help but grin. It’s so him. You did the right thing. It comes out barely above a whisper. You don’t stop moving, though you hesitate for a second. You hadn’t thought about right and wrong, only that you were overcome with an overwhelming sense of dread. Not just today, though it was definitely amplified. Ever since he popped the question, ever since you were expected to say yes. What other choice did you have? Did I? The question comes out before you can stop it, your voice a lot shakier than you expected. Do you feel better? There’s not a second of hesitation. Of course you do. That sinking feeling was totally eradicated. You nod. Then you did the right thing. He made it sound so simple. It couldn’t be, could it? His hands on your waist, in your hand, always wrapped around you, like he was afraid you’d run. Maybe he knew all along. The look on his face said another story. Those knowing, self-assured eyes were wide pools of blue, calling after you, but you were too far to understand what exactly he was saying. He was hurt and angry. You hurt him. But you knew, if you went through with it, you’d hurt for the rest of your life. You were young, too young. You had so much more time, so many more mistakes to make. Not the kind like this. You’d only looked back once, to see his face. Kendall immediately stood up, holding him off from running after you. Were they speaking? You couldn’t see, only that your brother stopped him in his tracks. Connor stood in the middle of the aisle like a deer in the headlights. He was walking you down, not Logan. He hadn’t thought his appearance was necessary. How angry he’d be, you could picture it now, calling after you. He would have killed you.

She turns off Kendalls awful music, putting on something that’s more your taste. Shiv holds her arms around your neck, and yours around hers. She looks beautiful, as always. What do you think Dad’s gonna say? Like a child, you fear the man in charge. If not him, then it would have been your husband. There is always an angry man in every scenario. She shrugs, searching your face, searching for the right words. He won’t be happy, she starts slowly, but it’s not like he can drag you down the aisle, right? She tilts her head to the side, a trait she’s carried with her all her life. I guess you’re right. Though it isn’t anymore comforting. She sees this, senses it, and tries to reassure you. Hey, hey he’ll understand. Maybe not now, but he will. You’ll always be his baby, no matter what. You think we haven’t colossally fucked up before? You try to hide your smile. Your smart sister, taking care of everyone. Where would you be without her? When you’d asked her to be your maid of honor, she was wary. You didn’t sound so sure. Not that you doubted her role for a second, rather that she’d take the brunt of the blame if you decided to take off, as if it were some great master plan between you and her. She would have taken that fall, though. She would have found a way to spin the narrative. Save both of you. She was always doing that: saving sinking ships. Is that what your marriage was, could have been? Probably. You weren’t a good match, you and him. You didn’t want your world to be business dinners and investors. You wanted to explore, see the world, make a name for yourself outside of the Roy/Matsson conglomerate. He was perfectly happy rotting away in meetings. You didn’t have the same interests, the same hobbies, nothing. He spoke Swedish in front of you, probably about you, constantly leaving you out of the conversation. What kind of life would you have lead? A bad one. A miserable one, no doubt.

You know you can never come back to Sweden after this. You’re like banned, permanently, for life. You slap Roman on the chest, trying not to laugh. I’m serious! He will get every Swede on his side and they’ll all gang up on you. They’ll never forget the day you left him at the altar. That strikes something in you, a deep fear. Did you make a mistake? Was this the best you’d ever do and you ruined your chances? Quickly, Roman tries to undo what he’s done, of course with a joke. Kid, come on. Matsson as my brother? Barf. This is a good thing. You did a good thing, for everyone involved. Besides, you didn’t want to have sleep with that guy every day for the rest of your life, right? He’d get tired of looking at himself in the mirror every night. Roman pretended to snore, “dozing off” as you swayed, until your smile came back. You hadn’t even been involved in planning the wedding. His assistants took care of most of it. Not even the date or the place had been cleared by you. You were just expected to show up, get married, call it a day. Everything you’d heard about weddings were magical, the kind of thing that brought couples closer. He was in Sweden not long after you said yes, you in New York. you maybe talked twice a week, if you were lucky. It was almost laughable how silly it all was. Of course you ran. Of course you bailed. He was, essentially, a stranger. A handsome one maybe, if you were in the right mood, the right lighting, but still. Had your mother really bought this? Had everyone? Were they fucking stupid? Do you think he’s upset? Who, Matsson? Fuck no, he probably forgot all about it. He’s got, what, a thirty second memory? He always knew the best thing to say. They all did. Where’s the ring? Hm? The ring, what did you do with it? Oh. You’d thrown it over the deck of the reception dance floor, feeling too claustrophobic to leave it on. It fell down somewhere in the foggy wilderness. After that, you grabbed your tray of drinks and climbed under the table. Are you kidding? That’s hilarious. Roman laughed a hearty laugh, peering over the glass bannister. That things fuckin’ gone. Forever! Lukas could spend the rest of his life, or his assistants life, searching. There was no way you’d go back to him, take back what you did. You could be wrong, but your whole family? It wasn’t often you and your siblings came to the same conclusion. When it came to this, though, you were all in agreement: he could go fuck himself. Everyone at the wedding could for not seeing this sooner. Let him cry like a little baby. Let him keep his money, his houses, his everything. All of sweden, too. You had your brothers and sister. They’d have your back no matter what, regardless of the situation. They’d look after you, look after your best interest at heart. Look on the brightside, Roman said, you’re saving a hell of a lot on the divorce. I gave it five years, tops.

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perfectprofessorloverapricot · 2 months

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•| A not so stolen youth |•

Stranger things / chapter 3

Summary: Everything in life seemed limited to walls of whites and rainbows. Caged within the confines of the lab. But an accident that involved a group of teenagers and the upside down world finally let him free. In a funny turn of events he found himself hiding in a step sibling's shed. A redhead that loves video games and a blond that spends his time making sure to keep his good looks.

Character: Male child OC

Warnings: Possible to descriptive scenes, child abuse, use of drugs and bad language.

A/N: I ask you to take into account that I lack experience writing in English and there'll be some grammatical mistakes because my native language is Spanish.

Prev part - Masterlist - Next part

It was early in the morning, every kid was either at school or at home because they’re sick. All except for one.

Thirteen walked with tranquility through the groups of trees scattered all over the town. He found that the only onces that walked there were a few really young kids, other than that, the coast is completely clear.

But what is not completely clear is his mind. The day before he saw something that brought back awful memories. He found out, his father is not the only man like that in the world and he isn’t the only one like him out there. He would like to say that he doesn’t understand Billy completely, but he does.

The teenage has moments of calmness when he usually keeps to himself or even glances at him as if inspecting his soul, and moments of complete chaos when he is hostile against anything and anyone near him.

Billy was angry at his father, that much was evident, but he couldn’t do a thing because he knew it was useless. That was a feeling he could relate a little bit to well.

It happened too often to him in the lab. Loosing his papa’s respect brought a lot of punishment with it and answering it only left him in pain. His only solution was to hold back and resist. But that led to future explosions where he sent his guards flying or breaking an entire room with a scream.

He was labeled as dangerous and forced to stay isolated.

He was thinking of ways to help make him feel better but nothing came to mind other than a present.

But what?

Or maybe, some company? That’s what he wanted when he was in the lab. Maybe that’s what Billy needs at home.

Before he could think about other options, his senses detected something. He heard a pair of soft footsteps quite some distance further in front of him but instead of dreading to find the person a familiar feeling made itself present in the back of his mind. He waited.

As silent as ever, he walked cautiously towards the sound.

Both kids that found themselves in front of one another gasped in surprise. They know each other.

The curly haired girl smiled at the boy receiving a smile in return.

“Eleven.” Whispered the boy, walking closer to her.

“Thirteen.” Once close enough they engulfed each other in a big hug, giggling, happy to realize they both basically survived.

The kids pulled away, still connected by their arms, smiling like no other day.

They had so much to talk about.

“-and then, she taught how to skateboard.” Commented the boy with glee.

They have been talking for about an hour about what’s happened the last year after escaping the lab and getting in contact with the upside down. So far, everything’s been peaceful.

He was happy to know that she was also taken care off by a good guy, even though she puts a kind of weird expression when she mentions him, she stills seems to trust him a lot too.

“But…” he made a pause and sunk in the log they were both seating at the reminder of what happened a few hours ago. “Her papa…” he turned his eyes from his joined hands to the attentive look of eleven. “He is like our papa.”

Eleven gasped softly at the revelation.

“She and Billy hide me.” His lips curved a little at the sides. He always gets a warm and fluffy feeling in his chest at the reminder of people that care about his safety. “She gave me clothes.” He gripped the fabric of the blue hoodie in his chest. The same that keeps his body heat from escaping. “And a name. Magnus.”

Eleven gave him a close-lipped smile. They don’t know each other as well as she would like too because they were separated in the lab. They met only after the rest of the kids disappeared and their father needed more power to connect with the unknown world. But couldn’t interact that much in a friendly way under the scrutinizing eyes of their handlers. He always wore a frown accompanied with tired eyes. So she is happy to see him finally smile, even in the slightest.

“And you?” He asked, giving her the opportunity to express something that might be bothering her.

“Hopper is good.” She nodded. “But he lies.” The kid raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He says, one day I’ll leave to see my friends but that never happens. He promised soon, but soon never comes.”

Thirteen lowered his head in sadness. He knows that feeling, or he knew, before living with his only friend.

“He says it’s dangerous, that it’s for my protection.” The kid wrapped an arm around her in a side hug to comfort her.

In moments like that he wished he was more like magneto and fight for their freedom.

But he couldn’t, he was just a kid after all. All he could do was make her aware that she’s not alone.

A certain blonde haired teenage boy was currently tightening a screw on the engine of his blue baby Camaro.

He was finishing changing the air filter. After what happened the day before with his father he has been looking for ways to release some pent-up pressure. He already said goodbye to his last hook up an hour ago, he doesn’t know where Max is because she was late and he left her to skate home alone and he already worked out in the living room but nothing seemed to make his anger decrease.

Billy huffed once he was finished, cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his dirtied hand. It wasn’t enough but that’ll have to do.

“Jesus.” Exclaimed the blond once he turned around and found the boy behind him, startling him. Weirdly attentive to what he was doing. “What the hell are you doing there? Are you a creep?” He asked with annoyance. He had almost sent the tool in his hand flying.

The kid just kept looking at him and the car with his big blue eyes and shrugged. He didn’t know what ‘creep’ means.

Billy raised a brow at the look of wonder in the kids face. He has seen it a few times before, directed to him, like trying to figure him out, which makes him edgy, but this time it was directed more to his car. “Never seen a car before?” He asked mockingly.

Unknown to him, the first time the boy saw a car was when he escaped from the lab. Ever since that day, the younger one has been greatly interested in the weird machines that roll faster than any adult he has ever seen runs.

Billy furrowed his brows when the only answer he got was the kid leaning his head to the side, still looking at the car.

Was he really that stupid? No, he couldn’t be. They would have already found him if that was the case, but he would have to live under a rock to not know what a car is.

“What, cat got your tongue, brat?” Thirteen shook his head and stick his tongue out to demostrarte it was still there making Billy huffed and turned to his car.

What a weird kid.

He grabbed the car’s hood and slam it shut to make sure it was closed.

“Cool.” Alluded the boy walking closer to the drivers side.

“What?” Thirteen glanced at Billy for a moment before returning to the inside of the vehicle repeating his word.

“Cool.” He is not completely sure if his using correctly the word Max taught him. ‘A word to describe something that’s better than amazing.’ Is what she said, and that is exactly what he thinks about the car.

“Huh, at least you have taste.” Said Billy as he wiped his hands in a towel he had hanging from his short’s waistband. Until he got an idea. Something that would help him destress and he used to do it a lot in California. “Hey brat.”

Thirteen turned towards Billy, not knowing what ‘brat’ means but understanding he wanted his attention. He blinked a few times, watching the weird look in the teenager’s eyes. He had an idea.

Billy would never in his life know what led him to do what he did, but the next thing he knows, he is driving top speed in one of the many lonely roads in the outer sides of Hawkins with the kid in the copilot seat. He loves to use the backroads.

He thought the kid would be scared shitless, however, the kid was grasping the seatbelt like his life depends on it (because it does) with the biggest smile Billy has ever seen.

But he doesn’t care that the kid didn’t get scared he was too concentrated in the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the speed to actually pay attention. He didn’t even light the cigarette between his lips because it wasn’t needed.

Billy whooped in ecstasy and bobbed along the surprisingly not so loud music. It was more important the roar of the engine than the beat coming from the stereo.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Cheered Billy with his always sharp smile.

But that wasn’t the best part, he was waiting for the right moment to put his car modifications to the test. In a way he couldn’t in the crowded city of California.

His smile widened when he saw what he was looking for. A wide straight doble lane road.

It’s show time.

He stepped on the break and pulled the hand brake simultaneously, then turned the wheel completely to one side in a second. The car instantly followed the action, turning with so much force skidding the tires in the street. Making a U turn by drifting.

Billy laughed loudly while the kid beside him screamed for his life. The wheels scraped the floor until the vehicle came to a stop in the other side of the road. Facing the opposite direction.

Not waiting for anything, he pushed the hand break back down and step on the gas. The wheels screeched against the ground, leaving marks, before moving at full speed back to the house.

At the speed he was driving it only took him 10 minutes to arrive.

He got out of the car after killing the engine and lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag as if it was pure oxygen he was inhaling. Finally he felt a little bit better.

So lost in his relief he didn’t pay attention to the passenger in his car. He only turned his head back when he heard a thud. He found the passenger seat empty and the door opened. He huffed thinking the kid just left without closing the door but he stop when he went around the car and found the kid basically face planted in the dirt while giggling.

Billy scoffed a laugh almost sending the cigarette in mouth flying. He was positive the kid was high with adrenaline. He saw the kid try to stand up in his jelly legs only to fall on his side.

“What the hell?” Billy didn’t need to turn around to know who that was. He merely rolled his eyes when the redhead rushed by him to get to the kid. “What did you do to him?” She asked when the kid tried to stand up again with her help but stumbled to the side like he was drunk. She got even more confused when she heard him giggle.

“I fixed your damn brat.” He grumbled taking a drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and returning to the house. He wanted to take a shower.

Max looked between the retreating back of her step brother and the kid seating in the dirt with a big smile in his face.

Could it be possible that Billy changed his mind?

No, that is not something Billy could ever do.

But either way, she was relieved that he was at least tolerating the kid’s presence.

If Max thought they had made a progress with Billy after the ride he had with Magnus. She was wrong.

The very next day his anger returned when he saw her talking to Lucas. There was no problem with that, she didn’t plan to be part of their club of hypocrites anyway.

Well, that was her plan, until the very next day she wanted to go to the arcade to play dig dug and forget everything only to be tricked in to the breakroom by Lucas himself. They argued about the veracity of the fanciful story Lucas told her ensuring that it was the truth.

Leaving the arcade Billy saw him at the door. At first he acted eerily calm while accusing her of disobeying and lying. But a silent threat was made evident later in the afternoon when Billy broke her skateboard when reversing in his car.

It was his way of telling her he could ‘accidentally’ break something without a problem.

He became a ticking time bomb and she didn’t want to be there to see it explode because she would be the collateral damage, and possibly with her, Magnus too. Even though he has mostly ignored the kid in the last days, it was obvious the anger he was holding in.

Taking every posible outcome Max took a decision. She’ll go back to Cali to her father and she’ll take Magnus with her.

The kid already had a new name, and no one will be looking for a kid in another city, miles away from were he was.

That’s how she found herself in this position. Fidgeting with her fingers inside her hoodie pockets, feeling the money between her fingers and watching attentively at Magnus sitting in her bed and messing with her Walkman.

She got the money by telling her mother that she wanted to buy a new shirt but she wanted the money to buy it herself and avoid any kind of harsh comments from Neil if she went with them to the mall in the neighboring town. Her mother, illusioned with the possibility of her daughter buying something more feminine, gladly gave her double the money she needed to buy the shirt. She thanked the heavens her mother did because she forgot the amount of money it’ll cost to buy two bus tickets.

She forgot a slight detail. The distance between her and her father was much more now that she is in Hawkins than when she was in Cali, and the tickets would be more expensive.

She already prepared two bags with things for her and Magnus. In that precise moment she has the perfect opportunity to leave with him. Her parents aren’t home and they’ll come back until night and Billy was too busy working on his muscles for his next hook up of the night to notice.

Gaining some courage Max sat next to the kid in her bed. She took a breath and spoke. “Mag-“

She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, someone calling at the door.

The kid raised his head, looking between Max and the bedroom’s closed door. He was to concentrated on the Walkman that he didn’t pay attention to the footsteps at the front door. It’s not like Billy’s blasting music trough the house helped at all.

He was already used to the volume of the music, but hearing it with the door open still hurt his head. At least the wood helps to drown out the sound. But he was still relieved that it’s not as loud as the alarms in the lab. That was a real headache.

He jumped from the bed when doorbell sounded again. He needed to hide. He turned to the window but stopped, if the person in the door somehow comes to the backside of the house he’ll be screwed. He turned to the bed. He doesn’t fit under it. As his last and only option, the kid threw himself inside the closet and closed the door, always leaving a crack to let the light come inside.

Max pressed her lips together trying to suppress a laugh. For a moment he looked like a headless chicken.

Her poorly covered smile disappeared when she heard her stepbrother yell at the next ring. “Max, are you getting that or what?”

Exasperated with him she yelled her answered “Okay.” She opened stood up stomping her way out of the room, closing the door behind her

“I swear to God Max.” Fumed the blond getting an eye roll and a glare from his sister when she walked by him. He just proceeded to lift the weights again.

From the closet, Magnus could slightly hear the door opening and closing over the music, along with Max’s voice from the other side of the door, indicating that now she was outside with whoever was at the door. He couldn’t tell what they were talking about because the music muffled their voices.

He waited for a moment, relieved that Max at least sounded like she knew the person outside. He was also aware that it wasn’t Neil, he could have heard his truck parking or his gruff voice booming in the house.

He waited a little while until she finally came back, closing the door behind her. She turned to Magnus watching the window in wariness. She knew why. Lucas was outside of the window. “Magnus.” She called for his attention.

He turned to her, blinking a few times.

“I… ammm.” She fidget in her place looking for the words to say. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she just made up her mind and decided she’ll find out what’s really happening with Lucas and his group because deep down she still wishes to have friends. “I’ll live with the stalker for a few hours. He says he has proof or something.”

“Where?” Came the silent question from the kid. Max almost didn’t hear it with Billy’s blasting music coming through the door.

“To the old junkyard.” Magnus lifted a brown and tilted his head slightly to the side. There was nothing in there other than trash and forgotten stuff. Nevertheless, he nodded, understanding that she is going there like really few other teenagers do. “Okay, then. I’ll be back.” She said, making the reference of the terminator movie even though Magnus didn’t catch it.

She turned to one of the two opened windows. The one closest to the bed. She stepped on the woodshed outside before stopping and turning to Magnus who was seating in her closet.

“Don’t talk with Billy if he doesn’t talk to you, by the way. He’s not in the mood and can get cranky.” Magnus smiled at the thought but nodded again.

Don’t talk to Billy. Copy.

Max said a soft goodbye before exiting when she heard the boy outside telling her to speed up. He even heard her commenting that whatever they were doing better be worth it.

Minutes later after she left, Magnus stayed in her closet. He was to engrossed in the Walkman she borrowed him.

The interest came when he returned from the store he likes to visit (steal from) with a cassette tape he found behind the garbage dump.

He put on the headphones and changed the tapes the way Max instructed him to. He pressed play instantly jumping in his place and accidentally trowing the headphones. The volume was too high. Even with the headphones in the floor he could hear it clearly.

He decreased the volume to the minimum before putting the headphones back on. The rhythm of the music was somewhat similar to the songs Billy hears when exercising but not as scandalous. He turned the Walkman over to see the tape through the see through cover. The letters in the side said ‘Call Me by blondie’ and something else he couldn’t read due to the blurred sharpie. He likes it though.

He bobbed his head to the rhythm of the music, not caring that he could hear Billy’s music through the headphones. He liked it. He found his taste in music.

Still moving his head to the beat, he stood up and walked to the window farthest from the bed. He sat on the window sill dangling his feet for a couple of second before jumping out. He looked at the full woodshed beside him before returning to the shed. Walkman in hand.

He’ll wait for Max in there.

It’s been a few hours and Max still hasn’t retuned. Magnus got bored since he doesn’t know where Max’s tapes are and he can’t read so well, so he decided to steal an apple from the Hargroves’ fridge.

Meanwhile, the blond teenager was done exercising, taking a shower and currently sharpening his look before his date (hook up). He sprayed hair product in the hair locks that fell on his forehead. Turning over the bottle of colon, he spread a few drops of the liquid in his wrist, even going as far as to spread a little bit in the southern area.

He turned and posed in front of the mirror, smiling with satisfaction at the result. Taking a drag from his previously lit cigarette he leaned forward and blew the smoke against his reflexión, winking. Yep, he was ready.

His smile was erased once he heard someone calling at the door. He noticed the rush in the knock even over his blasting music. “Billy?” He knew that voice. The reason for witch his father decided it was a good idea to move.

Kind of.

“Yeah, I’m a little bit busy in here, Susan.” He answered uninterestedly.

“Open the door. Right now.” He mentally cursed when he heard his father’s commanding voice in the other side. There was no way around this.

Genuinely curious he finally opened the door finding his father frowning face and the always present worried face of Susan shielding herself behind the man.

“What’s wrong?” He cut to the chase.

Neil wasn’t at all impressed by his son’s bluntness. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Because I don’t know.” He answered with obviousness in his tone. They just appeared in his door insinuating something that he isn’t aware of and yet, he is not surprised. Everything that goes wrong for Neil is always somehow his fault. No matter what.

“We can’t find Maxine-” Said Susan.

“And her window’s open.” Interrupted the man like the boss that he believes himself. Billy faltered for a second, looking in another direction before regaining himself. Even he was surprised. She was in her room with the brat a few hours ago. “Where is she?” Commanded Neil.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Scoffed the Man like his son was the worst dumbass in the world, annoying the younger.

“Look, I’m sure she just, I don’t know, went to the arcade or something.” Explained Billy, still not finding the force in his voice, kicking himself for it, and panicking internally. To avoid looking at the rising anger in his father eyes he went to the closet to retrieve his previously selected leather jacket. “I’m sure she is fine.”

Nike wasn’t having any of it. “You were supposed to watch her.” He commented, like he was just making an obvious observation.

Billy could clearly hear the covered anger under those words. But he couldn’t stop himself from arguing. He was getting annoyed.

He sighed. “I know dad. I was. It’s just you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date.” He slipped on the jacket and turned towards the man ready to face it and just leave. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister?”

That did it.

“I have been looking after her all week, dad. Okay?” He snapped. “She wants to run off, then that’s her problem, all right?” Neil licked the interior of his cheek, concealing his anger with an eerie façade. “She’s 13 years old. She shouldn’t need a full-time babysitter. And she is not my sister.” He turned to the radio. Stopping the music abruptly only to feel his heart drop to his stomach when Neil grabbed him by the colar of his shirt and slammed him against the shelves beside the closet.

“What did we talk about?” Asked Neil in a condescending tone. Practically whispering it in Billy’s face.

The teenager panted in anger and fear. He couldn’t answer fast enough when Neil slapped him in his left cheek, making him groan.

Susan, who once again couldn’t leave the scenario only looked the other way, feeling guilty for putting him in that situation but not doing anything fearing she could be in his position.

Neil grabbed Billy’s chin to force him to look at him before pointing with the same hand. “What. Did. We… talked about?” He made emphasis in each word.

“Respect and responsibility.”

“That is right.” Answered the man, pleased to have him under control once again. “Now, apologies to Susan.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Neil waiting for Billy while the blonde swallowed his pride and fear. “I’m sorry, Susan.” He said, never tacking his eyes from his father’s.

“It’s okay, Neil, really-“ she was interrupted when the man once again rises his voice.

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay. But he’s gonna make up for it.” He grumbled the last part. He finally stepped back to turn to look at Susan. “He’s gonna call whatever whore he’s seeing tonight and cancel their date.” He said as if it was the most normal thing to say. “And then he’s gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is.” He turned once again to his son, already finished with the humiliation. “Isn’t that right, Billy?”

Billy looked at his father with watery eyes hiding all that hate and anger he harbors towards the man. If only he could make him pay or just leave.

“It’s that right?” Yelled Neil when his first answer was only silence.

“Yes, sir.” He said softly.

Neil sighted in annoyance, leaning closer to his son. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes. Sir.” He repeated. This time with more courage.

“Find max.” Demanded Neil with finality turning around and leaving the room, intimidating Susan enough for her to step away from his way.

Billy finally let the tears spill once the door was slammed close and hit the wall beside him. He hated him with all his being. He wanted to fight back, punch him or something, but the last time he tried to do it didn’t end well for him.

Sucking his feelings up and drying his tears, he left his room to the back of the house. He thanked the heavens he parked the car in the back really close to were he needs to go. The shed.

Faster than he thought, Billy reached the wooden door and gentler than he wanted to, he opened the door (still slamming it open). “Hey, brat.” He grumbled once inside.

Magnus raised his head looking at him with wide eyes. He knew it was Billy the one walking (stomping) towards the shed. But it still surprised him when the teenage barged in the shed and called for his attention, loudly.

Billy opened his mouth about to yell but stopped. He didn’t want to scare the kid that looked like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt and end up running around like a headless chicken looking for Max for scaring him, or for his father to find him hiding a kid in the shed and get his butt kicked.

Instead he took a breath before talking. “Where’s Max?”

The answer he got was the kid blinking in bewilderment hugging a comic to his chest.

“Ugh, for fucks…” he mumbled under his breath. “Do you know where is Max?” He repeated in a gentler voice, clearly containing his annoyance.

Magnus nodded his head slowly. Max told him to not talk to Billy if he didn’t speak to him first, she didn’t say anything about not telling him where she is.

Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay, and?”

“The old junkyard.” He answered softly.

Damn. Now he is in trouble. He doesn’t know where that is. He slightly fidgeted in his place. “Do you know how to get there?”

Magnus nodded a slowly, still with the comic in his hands.

“Okay, then get in the car.”

Magnus instantly light up. He didn’t care that Billy used a commanding voice, he was just happy to get a raid again.

The kid quickly rushed out of the shed as silent as a mouse with an annoyed teenager following him.

Billy was already donde for the night, but unfortunately and unknown for him, it would be the longest and most eventful life of his entire life.

Hope you like the new rout I’m taking with this story.

#stranger things x male oc #stranger things x male reader #x male!reader #x male oc #child oc #child male reader #x child reader #billy hargrove #max mayfield #jim hopper #eleven hopper #stranger things #x male reader #stranger things x reader

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deansapplepie · 5 months

Text

Inherited | Chapter 3

Summary: Daryl needs Y/N’s opinion about something, but what she has to say isn’t exactly what he wants to listen.

Warnings: mentions of animal abuse (or kind of). Minors do not Interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 1,995

A/N: English isn’t my first language so it can have mistakes.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Chapter 3:

Beautiful but treacherous

You were at your dad’s office, well… now you thought it would start to be yours. When you went to Administration College, you thought about having an excuse to come back and help your dad with the farm, but you never did. You worked as ADM on Aaron’s business instead. So now it was time for you to start taking care of everything. You took all the recent documents, the financial books and had everything spread or piled on the table.

Aaron and Eric went for a walk around the farm, to get to know everything while you were busy checking if everything was ok. Your hair was tied up on a ponytail and you frowned in concentration, when you heard a knock on the door. You looked up and Daryl was standing there, you waited for him to speak.

“Good ya’re looking at it, ‘cause I know nothing about it.” He said, walking inside the office hat on his hand.

“Guess, going to college wasn’t so useless. Don’t you think?” You smirked, he knew why you were saying this. “Can I help you, Dixon?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’ and discuss it.” He said after clearing his throat, he tried to be polite and make small talk before, but he should have seen it coming since you have been at each other throats since you arrived.

“Sure, what is it?” You asked him.

“Follow me to the stables.” He said, you got up and he took you in. “Ya better grab yer boots, bet ya dun want yer white sneakers dirty.”

You looked at your shoes and sighed in frustration going to your room to change for your boots. When you came back you followed him to the stables, your eyes roaming about the land and many memories floating around in your mind. When you got to the stables you remembered about how many times you helped your dad there, how you would come and help Daryl so you both could play faster. When you asked your father if you could go play with Daryl he always said “Help him to finish the chores and both of you can play.” These were memories that brought a smile to your face.

You’d just got to the farm for your first summer with your dad after him and your mom divorced. 9 year-old you couldn’t contain the excitement of being back home, with your dad and close to your friends. Your dad parked his old truck on the garage and you got off of the car running to find who you needed.

“I love you too sweetie.” Your dad shouted playfully, he had picked you up at Atlanta’s airport, you had hugged and talked a lot already.

You ran until you found Daryl brushing a mare’s fur. You shouted his name and he stopped everything to look at you, a small smile on his face. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a tight hug. When you parted from the embrace, first thing you did was looking on his arm for the bracelet you gave him, it was there.

He looked at you eyeing your clothes, pink shoes, jeans and a shirt with unicorns and rainbows in it. “Why’re dressin’ like a girl?” He wasn’t used to you dressing like this. That wasn’t you.

“ ‘cause… I’m a girl?” You answered not understanding where your friend want to take this conversation.

“Ya dun dress this kind of girlie things, this isn’t ya.” He said and you didn’t know how to explain it for him. Sometimes you’d call to talk to him or Maggie, but you never said how things sucked at school.

“I have to. The other kids pick on me, so I have to wear this clothes.” You drawled, in your old school nobody would do this, everyone were the same way, but now it was completely different.

“Why don’t ya punch them?” He stated matter of factly.

“ ‘cause it’s wrong, and I’d have to punch the whole school.” You said. “Dun wanna talk more about it. I wanna have the best summer with ya and Mags!”

Daryl smiled, he was happy. He had missed you so much, there wasn’t a day where he and Maggie didn’t talk or thought about you. Everything reminded you. He really wanted to go to NY and kick the ass of everyone on your school, but he’d rather enjoy the little time that summer was with you.

“Are ya gonna come or are ya staying there smiling all goofy?” Daryl brought you back from your memories.

You were at the door of the stables and he was already in the middle of it, waiting for you. You shook your head sending all those thoughts away and following him inside. He stopped in front of a stall, there was a beautiful black horse and you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beautiful animal.

“It’s beautiful.” You said, before you could think about anything.

“Beautiful but treacherous.” Daryl said bitterly.

“Is it… the horse?” You asked, by his tone you knew it was.

“Yeah.” He affirmed. He leaned on the stall and looked at you. “What d’ya want to do with it?”

“What do you mean?” He was the one in care of the animals, you knew how to do it, but it was his job.

“D’ya wanna sell it or sacrifice it?” He asked bluntly and your heart went directly to your throat, his words surprised you a lot. Your dad would never get rid of an animal just because he couldn’t tame it on the first time. Your dad taught you to love and respect the animals, you’d just take an animal’s life for 2 reasons: 1- you needed to eat. 2- It was suffering.

“Daryl…” you took a breath before saying what you were going to say, because it was also being difficult for you. “This options are not going to bring him back or make the pain go away.”

“So, you’d rather look at it everyday and remember it killed your daddy?” He wasn’t being reasonable, and you knew he could be like this when he was angry or sad or hurt.

“If… he haven’t died. If he had just fell from the horse… what would he do?” You knew the answer, but you wanted to make him think.

Silence.

“He’d find another way. He’d try another method.” You said. “And you know I’m right. You knew him.”

Silence. He gripped the stall with both hands, a heavy sigh leaving him. You knew it was destroying him. You got closer to him and slowly and carefully put one hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need to find a guilty. It was an accident. He wouldn’t like to see you like…” ‘this’ you would say. But he took your hand off him and by his looks you swear he hated you.

“Ya know shit about what he’d like! Ya didn’t even come here on family holidays! Ya have no right to say what he’d like or not.” He shouted at you and left the stable cursing and stomping his feat. He knew you were right, and he could see that you were still as sweet as you used to be before, but it didn’t change what you did and what you said.

You stayed there paralyzed, you were just trying to help. You just wanted to remember him what your father would want and that it wasn’t it that would make the grief go away. You knew it would never stop, many people that had already lost their parents told you it was a pain that you’d never forget, you just get used to it and learn how to live with it. But you shouldn’t have known it was going to be like this, he didn’t want to discuss feelings with you, he just wanted business. That was what you were now, business partners and he wanted you to make a decision about the horse, together. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, but suggesting selling or killing the horse… that was exactly what he was doing. So many years and he’s still didn’t know how to manage his feelings.

Later that day, you called Aaron and Eric to the office, so you could talk with them. They were leaving the next day and you couldn’t let Aaron go without knowing what you were about to do.

“I’m not going back to NY.” You said, it was better to say it quickly than to take much longer.

“You aren’t just resigning, are you?” He asked, how he would find someone that he trusted to help him administer his business.

“Yes, I am.” You said feeling a little guilty. “I need to stay, that was what I was supposed to do since the beginning.”

“Can’t you continue to work for me from distance? I mean, we can do everything online nowadays.” He insisted. “I’ll never find someone like you.”

“We can try, but if I feel it’s too much…”

“Ok, we can try to work like this. If it works, it is an extra money for you. If it doesn’t… I may have to kidnap you.” He said, joking in the end to try to lighten the mood.

“Deal.” You said and extended your hand so he could shake it, and he did.

When the night arrived and everybody went to sleep, you didn’t feel like going to bed. So you headed outside, the cold breeze of the night hitting your face. You thought it would be good to watch the stars from outside instead of from your room like you did the night before. You walked to your spot, you could watch the stars from anywhere, but you felt it was wrong if you didn’t do it from the same place you used to.

Getting close to it, you saw his frame there. So you were not wrong the day before, he was the one there. Today, once again he smoked his cigarette while observing the sky. He listened to you arriving, you were silent, but he had a good hearing from years getting into the woods and hunting to feed his family. You sat on the fence, a little distant from him. He let some smoke come out of his mouth and turned to you, you were staring. Damnit, you were caught.

“Didn’t want to watch it from your window again?” He asked taking his cigar to his mouth. So he had seen you…

“It isn’t as good as here.” You answered looking to the sky again and trying hard to not look at him. “Thought you’d stop doing it…”

“I tried. It seems like this shit is as addicting as my cigar.” Why did he started to make small talk with you again? He couldn’t understand his own actions. He was angry at you, with all your smartness and sweetness acting like you knew everything and you were always right. But he couldn’t stop himself from talking any shit with you, he wished he had come up with an offense but he was not in the mood to fight. Yes, the days Daryl Dixon wasn’t in the mood to fight existed.

The last thing you imagined was that you were going to be stuck in the farm with him, having to be polite and talk. The thing was, you couldn’t even make a conversation without being pricks to each other.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, so you just kept you attention to the sky.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

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pisspope · 11 months

Text

Take One, Leave One

zeke yaeger x reader

content: fluff, language ?? mentions of erotica

this is 100% selfship coded but its been in my head for months so im letting the bitch out

Well. Someone left erotica in your little free library. Again.

It’s been an ongoing battle for a couple of weeks now. You return home from your evening shift to find a slew of new paperbacks in the box. Some of it is to be expected, forgotten tomes of short stories and unremarkable children’s chapter books, but hidden among them are… others. “A Saucy Dame’s Shifter Mate,” for one, “The Demon and His Temptress”, for another. Which are fine enough donations for a regular library, but the one you put together in front of your house is obviously for kids. It’s covered in little rainbows and flowers and colorful spirals, and a good 90% of the books are for ages 6 and under. Whoever is doing this is either willfully ignorant or thinks they’re being funny. Your bet is on the latter.

You take the offending books out of the cutesy box and take them inside, setting them in the foyer with the others that have started to pile up. You’re planning on taking them all in to the library at once during a donation day, probably make some excuse about them being from an estate sale and that you didn’t want them to go to waste. You do work at the library after all, so the idea that you would want to save some works from a landfill isn’t too farfetched. And sure, maybe you should just tell the truth, that someone is donating filth to your little library, but the biddies at work are judgemental, so you’d rather just do it all at once and not have the embarassment build up over time.

What you’d really like to do, of course, is catch the culprit. You know whoever it is has to be doing it while you’re at work, sometime in between lunch and the late afternoon walk home, but that’s about it. Plenty of people stop by each day to peruse the collection, adult and child alike, so asking the neighbors who they saw won’t be much help, either. There’s only one option.

You’ll have to catch them in the act.

Your moment arrives not 2 weeks later. You’d been given an earlier shift than usual, opening instead of closing, and were trudging home for lunch when you spotted him. A man, average height, glasses, beard, button-up and slacks; some normal looking, white-collar joe. Probably worked at one of the cubical hells in the industrial part of town, pushing pencils and cracking his aching back until he could roll his ergonomic chair into the grave with him. He stopped in front of your little library, and, having not yet noticed you, took some books out of his laptop bag and slid them in. They weren’t picture books, either. Holy shit.

“You!” you yelled, jogging towards the man and your own house. “You are the culprit!”

The man looked up, bemused, glasses glinting in the sun. He sneered down at you as you reached him, waiting for what you had to say next.

You pointed at him accusingly, but he just smirked and put his hands up, mock innocent.

“I can’t believe I caught you.” you huffed, panting a little. Librarian life had you up and moving, but you wouldn’t call it an active position. “You’re the one that’s been leaving nasty shit in my little library!”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you do!” you snapped, sliding past him to pull one of the new additions out. Sure enough, a sultry cover of a buxom lass and her chiseled beau, complete with some poorly photoshopped motorcycle and rolling hills in the background. You held it up to him.

“This wasn’t here this morning. In fact, it wasn’t here 30 seconds ago.”

The man chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.

“How do you know that? You weren’t here all day.”

You shake your head, annoyed. It was obvious he was playing some kind of game here, and you wanted no part in it.

“Because I saw you put it in there!”

The man took the book from your hands gingerly, suprisingly soft fingertips brushing against yours. You gasped despite yourself, though if he noticed he ignored it.

“’Riding With the Boys: A Biker Girl’s Story’,” he reads, looking the book over like it’s the first time he’s seen it. He tosses it between his hands, flips through the pages, then hands it back to you with a sigh.

“It’s derivative, honestly. The lead heroine falls in love with the jacked leader of the gang even though their finance guy is a better fit for her. All about looks… no thought to her characterization and what would make her happy in the long run. Drivel.”

You snort out a little laugh, feeling your guard drop a tad. It brings you no joy, but there’s something charismatic about him.

“Whatever. You were expecting something more from gas station smut?”

He shrugs, pulls yet another out of his bag. “And THIS one,” he hands the novella to you, one with a shirtless man front and center, leather pants and a microphone in hand. “’Seducing the Singer: Night of the Sirens’? Don’t get me started.”

You tilt your head to the side, inquistive. “That bad?”

His eyes widen behind his circular frames. “Oh, atrocious. The male lead doesn’t even look like a rock star. He’s all goofy looking with glasses and Hawaiian shirts and bullshit. I guess the characters at least felt like they liked each other. In so many of these they’re just fucking because it’s what the narrative requires. It makes me ill.”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows at his tirade. “So why read these if they’re all so awful?”

Shit, wait. you think. Why are you being pulled into this? Who cares why he’s reading them? Just tell him to stop leaving them here!

“Because the ladies around town can’t get enough of them,” he responds, eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m something of a businessman around here, so I want to keep a finger on what potential customers are interested in. And what they’re interested in,” he taps the book in your hands, “is erotic literature.”

“Bullshit. Who told you that?”

“Uh, I inferred it?” he laughs, but in a way that’s almost defensive, like you’ve insulted him by asking.

“Whenever I come back here a few days later, they’re already gone.”

“Oh,” you say, and you end up covering your mouth to stifle giggles at his expense. You look up at him through creased eyes nearly shut from containing your own laughter, then begin walking up the steps to your front door.

“Hey!” he calls, following after you with a couple wide strides.

“What’s so funny? And where are you going?”

You unlock your front door wordlessly, stepping into your foyer and gesturing at the not-so-modest stack of books by the staircase. You can’t help but snicker.

“They’re gone because I take them out before any kids can grab them. I’ve been waiting for a library donation day. Figured it’d be better to just give them away all at once.”

The man’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish as he peers into your entrance room at the messy stacks. He looks to you, then the stacks, then back to you. His voice comes out as a squeak.

“You mean they’re not popular?”

Now it’s your turn to shrug and act blasé. Oh how the tables have turned.

“I don’t see them get checked out much at the actual library. The Amish romances do better. Older readers really only like the softcore, from my understanding.”

The man turns and walks away, sitting himself down on the steps to your door with a huff. When you follow behind him, he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Where the fuck did he pull those from?

“I’ve been setting up book clubs and wine pairings based off of these fuckers being popular. And you’re telling me you just… had them in your house? Right by the front door?”

You nod, breaking eye contact with him. You felt a twinge of guilt, though you had no reason to. It was his fault for leaving the damn things in your little library in the first place! Still, there was something about him. Something about those sad eyes and soft hands.

“I work at the library,” you sit down on the steps next to him, inner voice screaming to stop talking and let him suffer the consequences of his actions.

“You could come down and I could show you what’s popular right now. What the ladies about town are actually reading. If you wanted.”

“I’d like that.”

The man wraps his hands around his knees and pouts, actually fucking pouts, then nods.

You both sit there in silence for a minute, watching starlings hop across your little lawn and bees hover around morning glories, summer sun beating down on your skin. Part of you thinks you should probably shoo him away now, call this issue resolved, but you hesitate. Why is a mystery to you.

“My name’s Zeke, by the way.”

You whip your head around, pulled from your thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

He looks to the side and meets your gaze again. His eyes are like a cloudy morning in early spring.

“My name. It’s Zeke.”

You give him your name in return as he stands back up, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. The sun hits his hair just right, and it has the audacity to shine like spun gold. Something flutters in the pit of your stomach that you fight to ignore. When Zeke looks at you again, the fight becomes a boss battle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At the library.”

He walks off without another word. You don’t even have work tomorrow.

Sighing, you step back into your foyer and lock the door behind you. The erotica greets you in a haphazard pile.

This was going to be a long summer.

#zeke yaeger x reader #zeke yaeger x you #zeke yaeger #attack on titan x reader #aot #zeke #cakecore

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