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1rsoldiersince2012 · 6 months

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Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3365 (chapter 40)

AN: pardon me for this chapter but... Yeah.

/slight smut/ minors dni!

40. running away is all I know

"Isn't it a bit too loud?" You shout to Pug, whose hand has been steadily keeping a hold of your wrist and pulling you forward through the sweaty crowd.

"What?!" Pug turns to briefly look at you, but then continues his journey towards the bar.

"Exactly!" You shout back, trying to not lose your purse and your friend by tightly gripping Pug's jacket with your other hand. You got out of your 5-hour flight just before noon, and now Pug was dragging you out for drinks, hoping that it would lessen your guilt and heartache over a certain someone.

"Oh, I see it!" He says excitedly, and finally you spot the bar, full of people lingering near the counter and others sitting on the high stools. The whole place reeks off rich people with big egos and you're a bit surprised that it changed so much since you left Los Angeles.

"Pug, it's full." You gently pull on his sleeve, but he still drags you near the left side of the bar, where a couple of guys were having a heated conversation, something about business and stocks from what you've managed to overhear in such a short time. Pug gestures something to the bartender and in a minute the guys are leaving their seats, grumbling something about rude service.

"After you, madam." He shows you the stool and helps you to sit down first, before getting comfortable on his stool beside you.

"You call me madam again, and I'm taking the next plane to NY." You send a threatening glare and Pug puts his hands up in defense.

"Okay, okay." He sighs then calls for a bartender. "'Sup Johnathan?"

"Pug, my man, how's it going? Haven't seen you here for a while." They shake hands like old pals and you can't wipe the confusion off of your face.

"I've been busy lately, but hey, I brought this beautiful lady today, it's been what..? a year since she last was here." Pug announces, suddenly making you feel old.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Miss...?" He extends his hand over the counter, waiting for your response.

"Y/n." You shake his hand and you're pretty sure that it smells like all the alcohol in this bar mixed together.

"Johnathan. You said you were here a year ago?" He smiles, the light of the bar illuminating his short, spiky hair.

"Yeah, and I honestly don't remember you." You say, squinting your eyes slightly. "Maybe you would've been a good catch for the night." You watch his eyes widen but then a mischievous glint changes the confusion.

"What about tonight?" He leans closer, trying to keep the conversation on low volume, despite the whole club going feral.

"Oh, Johnny, her heart is in another city, not a chance." Pug nudges his arms and John retreats back a safe distance. You only smile and order Vodka Red Bull, while Pug sticks to his usual Martini.

"Starting off strong?"

"Yeah, trying to forget some stuff." You huff a laugh and Pug eyes you knowingly. After you spilled all your heart in his apartment and in the taxi on your way here, he wasn't about to complain about your road-to-a-heart-attack drink order, because he knew how much you needed to get properly wasted tonight.

***

After the gala, you woke up the next evening, head pounding and a lump hanging in your throat. Your mouth felt so dry that you actually had to peel your tongue off of the top of your mouth. The first thing you saw upon opening your eyes was Foggy sitting in a chair next to you; actually, sleeping heavily, and you almost wished that Matt was sitting next to him, but the second chair was empty. Finally spotting the flowers on the table, you moved in bed, waking up Foggy.

He was beyond worried, immediately thanking God that you've woken up, and running around the ward like a little worker ant.

"Foggy... Please, you're making my head spin." You said, feeling restricted by all the tubes and needles attached to your body, "Can you lift the bed?"

"I don't think you should sit up so soon."

"Since when you're a doctor?" You asked, already annoyed that he didn't hurry to fulfil your wish.

"Since I-" He stopped, thinking about Matt resting in his apartment, "Okay, whatever."

"Thank you." You said when he finally fixed the pillow and you felt your body relax. "How'd you find me?"

"How'd you get here? What the hell happened? I mean Claire told me why you're here but how the hell did you get poisoned?" Foggy started wawing his hands around in the air.

"Who's Claire?"

"Your nurse. She recognized you from your old bilboard and called HCB and then got sent to us."

"Oh." You fall silent, looking at your fingers resting in your lap. "I...was at Fisk's party."

"What? Why?" Foggy looks at you intently, and suddenly you feel like a child who is about to get a lecture from their parents about a broken thing.

"I had to, there was no other choice. He gave me no other choice." You furrow your eyebrows angrily.

"Who? Fisk? Did he threaten you?"

"It's a long story, Foggy, I don't think I'm ready to talk about it..." You sigh, softly smoothing the covers with your hand.

"I'm so tired of all the secrets." Foggy grumbles under his breath, sending a look at the flowers.

"What secrets?"

"Nothing, just forget about it."

Probably for the first time since you and Foggy met, you felt him acting cold towards something, which was very unlike him. "Can you pass me my phone? Before the nurses come and send me through millions of tests."

"Sure." He comes close and hands you the phone, still looking at the flowers. You're met with at least 50 messages and 20 calls from Pug, asking where are you. All from yesterday. "There's a note for you." Foggy fidgets next to you and takes out the note, "is it from him?"

You take the piece of paper and read the words: "i wish it could've been different", written in nice cursive, although it was painfully evident that a man wrote it.

"Is it from that Wesley guy?" Foggy asks again, this time more demanding.

"I think so. I think he brought me here." You scrunch your nose when the hospital smell finally reaches you. "Remember that woman in art gallery?" You ask, eyes wide and, if Foggy wasn't wrong, a little bit wild.

"The one with dark hair? Who was telling me about that ugly painting?"

"Yeah, Vanessa." You say, somehow feeling strength return to your body, "she's with Fisk. There were all kinds of dicks in that Gala, all the rich people of the city, I don't even know half of them, but they're pretty high in power, I think I saw someone from the Station. Foggy, he has everyone in his pocket, we can't do anything about it. We just can't expose him because he's already three steps ahead and has it all covered." You sigh with desperation and notice a familiar face peeking through the small window inside your ward. You knew that face, he was one of the security men in the party. Marco notices your wide eyes and quickly disappears just like he appeared.

Foggy continues pacing around, failing to notice the unfamiliar person, much to his luck. "This is bad, this is so bad." He mumbles again, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm getting out of here. Tonight. I can't stay here any longer." You begin pulling out the needles out of your arms, quickly alarming Foggy.

"Hey, hey, are you crazy?"

"It's crazy to stay here, when Fisk has this place fully packed with his men, I have no doubt about that." You catch his hand trying to stop you and sit on the edge of the bed. "Please, let's just get out of here and I leave you alone, I won't bother you tonight. In fact, I'm going to LA for the weekend."

"What? After Matt had... The incident?" Foggy asks, making your hurried actions come to a halt.

***

"Oh, my favorite type of clients." Johnathan smiles and disappears in the other side of the bar.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you..." Pug starts, spinning the toothpick with olives in his glass.

"Yeah?" You take a sip of your drink and the burning sensation in your throat makes you feel alive again.

"What are your plans after what happened?" He looks at you, unreadable expression on his face.

"Try to stay alive?" You joke, hoping to avoid any serious topics, especially when you came here to get loose.

Pug doesn't get to ask any more questions when suddenly your world becomes dark - big hands on your face cover your eyes and you almost jump in your seat. "Guess who?" A deep voice says close to your ear, warm breath tickling the back of your head. Involuntary, you smile, ignoring the fact that a possible stranger put his hands on your face, most likely ruining your makeup. Your hands come onto his, slowly grazing his fingers and wrists, feeling the layer of hair and strong muscles. There was only one person in your whole life, who still did this childish game.

"Max?" You ask and feel momentarily blinded by the lights when the hands leave your face and rest on your shoulders.

"Bingo!" A voice with thick Australian accent exclaims behind you, and you turn on your chair to see a taller man standing with his arms open, smile on his face as big as the moon tonight.

"Max!" You shout and almost immediately pull him into your embrace, feeling the muscles under his dark green shirt when he presses you close into his chest. He pulls away slightly and takes your hand in his, leaning close to kiss your knuckle. You hold his gaze and shiver slightly when his lips touch your skin, disappearing just as quick as they made contact. Pug looks at the two of you, slightly surprised and almost shocked.

"Max? What a coincidence." He says, pushing his hand in front of Max and quickly greeting the man.

You quickly glance at his shoes and smirk. "Cowboy boots?"

He laughs, head falling back and exposing his thick neck. "You can take me from Texas, but you can't take Texas from me, baby."

"You're from Australia." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I grew up in Texas, baby." He winks, looking around the place.

"Still got that cowboy hat in your apartment?" You take a sip of your drink, turning to Max again. Sitting in the middle of the bar side and managing the whole three-way conversation turned out to be a bigger challenge for your drunken self than it actually was.

"Even better, I probably have like 5 cowboy hats." He smiles, dimples visible on his cheeks, curls falling on his forehead. It's been only couple of years since you last saw him, but he has changed a lot. "Can't believe I met you guys here. I mean I'm here every weekend or so, but it's been too long since I was met with familiar faces."

"I'm not hiding anywhere, just getting drunk in less expensive places." Pug shrugs, side eyeing the bar for any signs of Johnathan and a new drink.

"Well... I've been busy with work.. in Hell's Kitchen." You cast your eyes down, watching the bubbles rise in your glass.

"That hole?" Max asks, not really surprised, but maybe a bit disappointed.

"Yep, that hole. It's just as bad as LA but a lot less fancy."

"Augustus you're still into the law?"

"More 'in' than 'into', but yes, still there." Pug replies, somewhat sourly. He wished to spend as much time with you as he could before you leave again for God knows how long but of course, Max was ruining everything.

"So, what are you doing here, Max?" You ask, saving Pug from another awkward answer.

"Oh, just making my way into the hierarchy of the prison." He says, eyes glinting, "I'm kind of an important person there."

"What, they let you sleep in the top bunk?" You ask, pretending to be shocked.

"Haha, very funny. I'm second to the head chief, so, you know, I can do whatever I want."

"No wonder you're so... Bulky now." You reply, eyes sliding down his chest.

***

You force him on his knees, locking the doors of his apartment behind you and leaning on the nearby wall. "Oh, I like it." Max smirks, kneeling in front of you, smiling. Leaving the club with Max and ditching Pug with a mysterious blonde was a huge mistake, but now you weren't thinking; alcohol was doing it for you.

"Wanna like it more?" You ask, fingers messing with his dark curls. He nods, eagerly placing his hands on your thighs and giving a firm squeeze. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod slowly, because if you did it faster, you were sure that your vision would be lost. Strong fingers lift the end of your dress and Max starts kissing your thigh; you hold your breath, waiting for him to acknowledge the obvious under your dress, but when he continues teasing, you grab a fistful of his hair and push his face on your center. He looks at you from below, eyes unfocused from the alcohol, the sudden pull of his hair causing him to jerk his hips forward.

He knows how you like it. Or liked. It's been too long since he felt your body underneath his, tightly pressed together and desperate for more. Yet not long enough for him to forget how you liked your pussy to be eaten. Max eyes you one more time before lifting himself up more to grab the hem of your underwear with his teeth and starts pulling it down. You watch the scene unfold between your legs, still tightly holding onto his hair. As he pulls your underwear down to your knees, they fall on the floor on their own, making him smirk. You gently pull him back and he takes the hint, diving to suck your clit. You almost moan out loud at the contact, but swallow it harshly. Max sets a relentless pace, making you tug at his hair harder. He tries to hide it, but you can see the way he's moving his hips, trying to make some type of contact with his pants and you say something that surprises you both. "Touch yourself."

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily and looking at you with a dazed expression, your wetness glistening on his lips. You release his hair, pulling him up by his chin to your eye level. "What?" He asks, blinking more than necessary, perhaps slightly sobering up.

"I wanna see you touching yourself when you eat me." You say more confidently now, kissing his cheek for reassurance. You didn't want to kiss him on the lips and continuously refused to do so in the taxi. He puts his whole body weight on his palms on the wall to keep his balance.

Max groans when your hands start unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants and you teasingly lick his neck. Max's eyebrows knit together, waiting for the desired contact with his cock, but you pull away, holding the hem of your dress instead. He looks at you in question, but then awkwardly pulls his pants down, exposing his already hard dick. "I want to see you cum when you lick my clit." You say, feeling slightly lightheaded when he spits into his palm and wraps his hand on his dick, groaning loudly at the contact, his breath near your neck tickling your skin. "Get on your knees." You say, watching him continue to stroke himself for a brief moment before you pull his head to your center again, letting his tongue do the rest.

You lay on the bed next to Max, ashamed that you just faked your orgasm, staring at the ceiling in thought. Both still fully dressed, feeling too hot for your liking after the previous incident (that's all it was in your mind), you were both looking at the same dried spot of yellow on one of the ceiling tiles. Max turns his body towards you, lying on the side, his head resting on his palm. You pay no attention to the shuffling beside you, still staring with an empty gaze. The alcohol was still buzzing through your veins, creating an unpleasant feeling in your head.

"What's on your mind?" Max asks, carefully inspecting your facial expressions.

"Everything." You simply say. Words were not enough to explain what was going through your mind, and Max, staring at your face, didn't make it all easier.

"I thought you hated Hell's Kitchen." He says and looks at you questioningly.

"I did." You sigh, closing your eyes, "still do."

"But he makes it bearable?" Max asks, his finger gently touching the scar on your arm, where the bullet grazed your skin.

***

"What incident? What happened?" You demand, watching Foggy stumble with an answer.

"He got into a car accident." He lies.

"What?" Your voice gets higher.

"He's okay now, pretty beat up but he's okay... At home." Foggy finishes awkwardly, eyes scanning the floor.

"When did that happen?" You pull up the jeans that Foggy brought. New ones. And they fit perfectly. If he wasn't a lawyer then he would've been a great retail worker.

"Last night."

"Were you even going to tell me?"

"The same way you told me about that party?"

Checkmate. Foggy has finally caught you in a corner. "Tell Matt if you see him that I'm really sorry about lying and... I hope that he's okay." You pull on a hoodie and grab your phone. "I'm getting out of here."

"Y/n!" Foggy shouts when you slip out of the ward, knocking the vase with flowers down on your way. You had to leave, you had to go to LA. You couldn't stay here this weekend, and once again, your gut feeling was right - it was best to leave Hell's Kitchen and Fisk, yet not the best decision to leave Matt wounded and alone.

***

"I think so." You reply, turning to look at Max.

"Jeepers, you're down bad for him." He laughs lowly, chest rumbling with the action.

"You weirdo, no one ever says 'jeepers' in a normal conversation."

"Well, in my defense, your Honor, this is not a normal conversation." He mocks and you slightly punch his arm.

"It's such a dick move from me. I didn't even visit him, and his best friend told me about the car accident. I think he hoped I was going to visit him."

Max looks at you intently, calculating his next words. "Do you think he'd want you to visit?"

"I don't know. I kind of wanted him to visit me when I was in the hospital... But at the same time I was glad that he didn't. I mean... We're nothing. We just work together and share the same fucking table in the office. And we had sex..." You rub your face and exhale loudly. "But it's not like we're in a relationship."

"Do you want to be in a relationship with him?" Max asks, a soft smile on his face.

"I wouldn't mind that... But you know me."

"I know that he's not me," Max begins, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned on you. "I couldn't win you, and I'm sure you've never had a thought about me that was similar to what you just said about him. So..."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that he has more chances than me, which means that you two can at least try to create something."

"You're somehow both making sense and talking complete nonsense at the same time."

"Hey, it's the alcohol talking." He smiles, leaning back on the bed, his head almost resting in your lap. "But seriously, you should try it."

"Try what?" You chuckle, slowly messing with his curls.

"Being happy."

#matt murdock #marvel daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock x reader #bound by law #netflix daredevil #matts superhearing complicates things for you #lawyers #daredevil #marvel #augustus pugliese

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godlizzza · 7 months

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Prompt: Danbert outside POV? Bonus points if it’s the POV of someone at the hospital like a fellow doctor or nurse, but I’m not picky!

After twenty years of nursing, Simone had been through just about every emotion possible when it came to her job. From the hopeful highs fresh out of her degree, bright-eyed and optimistic, to the lows of burnout, hating her job, her life, and everything in between, before finally arriving at where she was now. Which was a quiet acceptance of the daily toils her line of work entailed. She both loved and hated certain parts of the hospital, but for the most part she just focused on one task at a time, going through the motions until she could clock out and go home to work on painting her miniatures.

One thing she definitely despised, though, was watching the drama between her coworkers. Simone mostly kept to herself and select few others; Cassandra, a fellow nurse, Paula, one of the cleaning ladies, and Bob, who came in every other day to do maintenance around the building. She largely didn't care for doctors, who were either cocky, negligent, or some combination of both. The two doctors at the top of her shit list were those freaks, Cain and West.

Simone looked up from her patient notes at the sound of West's clipped voice and spotted him engaged in a heated argument with Cain. They both wore pinched expressions as they glared at each other over a sleeping patient. It seemed like they were trying to keep their voices down, but their hushed whispers were getting louder and louder until they were basically shouting at each other in raspy voices.

Simone caught mention of something to do with keeping the basement clean before losing interest and walking off.

It was a few hours later when she was walking back to the floor from Pathology that she heard the familiar sound of the two men arguing inside a broom closet. She came to a halt, her sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum floor. On any other day she would've just assumed the two were a couple of closet cases looking for a quick hook-up at work--irritating and unprofessional--and left it at that, but the urgency in West's voice had her straining her ears.

"Please, Danny," West breathed on the other side of the door. "I need it."

"Herbert, no," came Cain's reply, though even to Simone's ears he sounded like he was wavering. "We talked about this."

"I know but I just need you to give me a little," West whined. "Just enough to see me through 'til the end of the day. I can't stop myself from staring at you...knowing you could give it to me any time."

Simone's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp. She'd never pegged West as being so whorish. Cain, yes. That man looked ready to both burst into tears and get nasty on a gurney 24/7, but West had always seemed to be the more buttoned-up of the two. How wrong she'd been. She supposed it was true what they said: nerd on the streets, freak in the sheets.

"Can't you at least just wait until we get home?" Cain asked. "It feels wrong, doing it here at work."

"I can't wait," West panted, sounding like a dog in heat. "I need it now. I need you now."

God damn, Simone thought. Cassandra was going to have a field day when she told her about this.

"Simone?"

Simone spun around to see Rachel, the head nurse, walking down the hall towards her. She was frowning in evident confusion.

"You okay?" Rachel asked.

Simone nodded quickly, already backing away from the broom closet (which had suddenly gone quiet). "Mhmm, yep. I'm fine. Was just heading back to the floor."

"Alright," Rachel said, sounding unconvinced. "Well, hurry up, please. Shenton needs help dealing with Mr. Collins."

"Right away," Simone replied, hurrying away.

She didn't look at West or Cain for the rest of the day. She thought it'd probably be a long time before she could look at either of them again without remembering West's breathy, desperate voice.

First that massacre a few months back and now this? Why couldn't she work at a normal hospital?

#the other ppl at the hospital think herb and dan are staring in some greys anatomy type shit #dan wishes he was #but alas #danbert #dan cain #herbert west #re-animator #reanimator #asks #my fics #writing prompt

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siriannatan · 1 year

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1920s mafia!Au with Flower Ranchers

Guess who watched Bernadette Banner and got inspired for some Mafia!au stuff?

I did. And I decided to delve into the Flower Ranchers pit.

Agreeing to infiltrate the Ranch - a high-profile club owned by a mysterious gangster known only as Canary- was probably Scott's biggest mistake in a while. Not that he had many other jobs to think about. Or an option to say 'no', You don't simply say 'no' to Grian. Not with a serial killer hunting him for some bizarre reason and Grian saying he can get her to stop. Scott had no idea how he was supposed to do it but meeting her would probably be better than his current situation.

The main and frankly only thing Grian wanted was Canary's real name. Scott had no idea why and what for he wanted it. But he managed to get into the bar despite not really fitting the usual guest list through an interview for a singer. A cute, blonde man in a pinstripe, three-piece suit made of dark navy fabric and a lighter blue undershirt was overseeing it all. The eyepatch over his left eye was curious. He guessed he was managing the club for Canary. By his side, with no break was a guard. Also blonde, dark ash grey shirt and deeply red trousers with black suspenders. Blonde. Red eyes. A meta-human judging by the flames dancing in his eyes whenever anyone got too close to blondie with the eyepatch.

After his turn Scott decided, in a flash of genius, to sneak about behind the scenes of the establishment. Not a good decision since the fire-eyed blonde was currently pressing a knife to his back. On the perfect spot where no ribs would stop him from stabbing Scott's heart before he could even think about fighting back. "Whatcha' doing' back here precious?" he asked, pushing the knife a bit harder.

"Looking for the toilets," Scott nervously chuckled out an excuse.

Red, as Scott decided to start calling the scary guard, huffed, clearly not believing Scott. "Yer' lucky boss likes your face and voice..." was the last Scott heard before being knocked out.

Scott woke up with an intense headache. And the voice he vaguely recognised as the blonde man with the eyepatch. "Calm down Tango, I'm the boss, I can do whatever I want," he didn't sound at all bothered by whatever 'Tango' was bothered by. With a groan, he absolutely was not able to not make Scott decided to open his eyes. Pinstripes and eyepatch was sat in an armchair in the club in Red's lap. "Looks like Scotty's waking up," he chuckled and Scott felt his already low body temperature drop even lower.

Just how much did he know already? Where in the frozen hells did Grian send him...

"I'm going to guess my lovely brother has something to do with your sneaking," pinstripes continued to grin as he presented Scott with a photo of him and Grian talking. "I like to keep an eye on my charming siblings, just so they don't get in the way too much, especially Grian," he chuckled as he tossed the photo away.

"I had no idea who..." Scott tried to protest. He was a dead man if Grian heard he was caught. If not by Grian's goons then Pearl would hear just where she could find him.

"Shush, no need to panic, your face's pretty enough to make me want to not let Tango redecorate my club," he was stopped and blondie stood up. Red huffed and glared at Scott. It was probably best for Scott to listen to what eyepatch had to say. "I'm guessing he had to have something good to offer you, like keeping a certain sister of ours away from that pretty face of yours. Tango here also happens to know of your talents outside of singing..."

He definitely knew far too much. No one but Pearl and Grian knew what he was capable of outside his occasional performances at local clubs, bars and even rarer - the theatre. He could only hope pinstripes - he was more and more certain he's talking to the Canary - did not know about his meta-human abilities. Not even Pearl knew about that and they used to work together before it ended in an unfortunate circumstances and ended with her hunting him down... But if the sibling talk was real... Scott was sure there was frost forming on his skin but absolutely did not want to look at it.

"I say the abilities of someone who once managed to keep up with Pear's temper and work style could do much better than running Grian's useless errands. What did he even send you here for?" he asked with a tiny grin.

He no doubt already knew but what choice Scott had but to humour him. "Canary's real identity," he said and was totally stunned as the other started to laugh. "He said he'd get Pearl off my case, she was getting really hard to avoid," Scott mumbled and Tango's glare softened slightly.

"She can be a bit much," pinstripe hummed. "Well, that's a surprise," he chuckled. "I suppose my acting's better than I thought. I thought he'd figure it out by now. No matter, I'll deal with my brother another time. As for you, little flower, how about working for me instead? Pearl avoids this place like fire, and you sing very nicely, so how about staying here? No grumpy faces Tango."

"As long as I can do some stuff of my own," Scott said before he could stop himself. Couldn't he just say no and look for a way to get as far from these accursed siblings as he possibly could?

"I don't see why not as long as it doesn't get in the way of my business and work for me takes priority," the Canary shockingly agreed. Red, or Tango did not complain in any way. "But when not performing or doing your own things, you'll be staying close to me and Tango. I'd hate for someone to bother my cute new singer," the Canary, or Jimmy as he introduced himself while giving Scott a tour of the backrooms. Red - Scott would only call him that since it seemed to annoy him slightly - was one step behind them the whole time.

Over the next few days, Scott followed Jimmy along with Red. He was very touchy but at least he was pretty and Tango was scary enough to keep most trouble away. And turned out to be a great pianist when the usual one was suddenly killed not too far from the club. It very much seemed like a Pearl kind of a kill so Scott was obviously a bit tense but still gave a great performance. Jimmy sitting in the audience with two guards replacing Tango certainly helped. She wouldn't do anything with him around, right?

Aside from Tango purposely making the usual set of songs harder the evening went well. Grian was among the guests but he was easy to ignore. Jimmy seemed to be enjoying himself. A very good evening he'd likely get very praised for. He was honestly getting used to being just Jimmy's favourite singer, even if other performers looked weird at him. So what if Jimmy also liked him as a pretty accessory? Tango was for being handsome and scary, and Scott was for being pretty and keeping Jimmy from being too angry at his problems.

"I'll grab a drink," Scott told Tango after their performance was over. Red just nodded and was off to rejoin Jimmy's side. Other guards instantly cleared out, a rather amusing sight considering Tango wasn't all that tall, he was quite a fireball when angry.

By the bar Scott made sure to also ask for Jimmy's favourite drink along with his water and was about to go to his new boss when a commotion started and suddenly very close to him was a barely held back by guards Pearl. If looks could kill Scott'd be a dead man. He didn't really see Pearl since the 'betrayal', at Cleo's funeral house but was still quite confident he'd be okay. As long as guards could hold her back long enough for him to reach Jimmy...

"You traitor!" Pearl called out along many mean words but Scott was not quite listening to her. He was never one for much conflict. Thievery? Lying? Even more theft? Yes, yes, yes. Bringing a big issue - one Jimmy knew about but still - over to a bar owned by a mob boss? Hell no and so he seized up. Chill climbed up his spine and frost formed on the glasses he was holding.

And then there was sudden heat and a Tango between him and Pearl and a hand on his back. "Sorry dear sister but I'll have to ask you to be nice to my performers, especially Scott, he's kind of my favourite alongside Tango," Jimmy's voice. Scott decided to ignore all that was happening and focus on the half-hug Jimmy had him in. Otherwise, he'd probably freeze the whole building.

He was so focused he totally missed Pearl leaving and being moved to Jimmy's office. Only Tango's freakishly warm hands on his face shook him out. "Sorry... open conflict's not my thing and..." Scott instantly jumped into apologising.

"It's all okay Scott, the boss knows, he's currently arguing with his siblings about that whole thing. Pearl had to find out somehow you're here... I'd be more worried about them than the boss," Tango gently explained as Scott slowly recovered. "He got really worried when you got all unresponsive, told me to make sure you're oka..." Tango rambled. He was clearly not used to having to explain himself in any way that did not include punching and burning. Not that Scott cared, he was warm so he just hugged him.

"Warm..." he offered as an explanation. Tango was really pleasantly warm. "Just a little while... My power is a bit hard to control..." he sighed while practically melting into Tango on Jimmy's office carpet.

And that's how Jimmy found them shortly after. His wings were no longer hidden by the illusion he usually kept up. "Scott? Oh my... I'll murder Grian one of those days... Bringing Pearl here when I said she's banned," he huffed as he joined the hug, completely ignoring Tango's hopeful look at a chance of no longer having to have emotions.

"Come on Red's it's just a hug, you're warm, I can give you a kiss later," Scott hummed even happier with Jimmy and his wings providing additional warmth and comfort.

"Boss..."

"What he said, Tango, but I say we move it somewhere more comfortable where idiots won't be looking for me," Jimmy made the final decision. "I'll leave revenge for later. NO one scares my favourite people and gets away with it. No one," he huffed as Tango carried Scott somewhere - Jimmy's room - that didn't matter at the moment. Being comfy and warm came over anything after losing control.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #fanfic #empires smp #traffic smp #flower ranchers #flower husbands #team rancher #empires scott #scott smajor #tango tek #esmp jimmy #jimmy solidarity

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justfor2am · 2 years

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sanders sides and situational context

okay i'm adding nuance to my sanders sides take because i feel like it needs to be said.

i don't think having sanders sides episodes be ad reads are a bad thing. it's important to remember that this is thomas' livelihood and he has people to pay.

i also don't think fluff is a bad thing, and i genuinely miss when episodes were light and breezy. (which, reminder: that's what the Aside videos were meant to be.)

i don't think having a fluff, time-filling video for an ad read is bad.

but i DO think that doing an ad read for a series that has not had a main plot-centric episode uploaded in roughly 2 years while the fanbase is held in update-less limbo isn't exactly a good look.

i've seen several people try to play the "gotcha!" card of: "well the crofters video was an ad too!"

firstly, as i said: it's not a bad thing for a sanders sides episode to be an ad.

secondly, the crofters video was uploaded April 19th, 2018. the next video, Learning New Things About Ourselves (the puppet episode) was uploaded October 29th, 2018.

roughly six months. LNTAO was a high-production video, and the delay was more than understandable. however, six months compared to two years isn't exactly a fair comparison.

(side tangent: i've seen some people talking about a supposed bonus episode made that was locked to patreon; i don't have patreon nor am i fully informed about the situation or if it's even real so i have no opinion no the matter.)

i have not seen the newest video yet, but i am excited to do so. i have missed these characters greatly and they hold a special place in my heart. but that does not negate my frustrations with thomas + co. about how disjointed this series has become.

in no way am i demanding new content. in this age of the push for endless content consumption, i am not asking nor expecting an indie team such as them to create new episodes every week as it used to be. that would be ridiculous.

i'm asking for clarity. that thomas would occasionally tweet "scripting is 1/2 done!" or "we're slowing sanders sides production to focus on other projects/ensure that the finale product is up to our stands/take a break."

if the thomas and/or team were to say "hey, we're going radio-silent for the next few months to really focus on the finale, don't expect any new content for a while", i would scream for joy. because then at least we would know to wait, and roughly for how long.

it's the fact that we sort of get new unrelated videos at the same time that this really high-production finale is getting workshopped that concerns me. this is not healthy time-management.

it feels disingenuous to keep fans in the dark about a very high-production (and fan-funded given patreon,) end-of-season 4-parter, and announce more merchandise for a series that has felt as though it were abandoned.

i'm certain it's difficult behind the scenes, and i wish the team would let off some of that pressure to release smaller, low-production videos that are slice-of-life and less taxing to create. (probably once a month at best.) or at bare minimum, the fans are better informed on the timeline of production, so that the waiting feels less infinite.

i'm not expecting anything to change. and while i joke about being angry with the team, i'm not. i'm not even disappointed, really.

in truth, i fear for the future of the series if things continue at this rate. and i hope the team takes the time to acknowledge this stagnant feeling within the fandom and take measures to counter it. that's all i can hope for.

tl;dr people have a right to be frustrated with the new video, people have a right to be happy with the new video, and updates on production would be nice, though it shouldn't be expected as much as i hope for it.

thanks for reading

#ts critical #sanders sides critical #ts criticism #sanders sides #justfor2am

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crescentblossom66 · 2 months

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Yellow Bundles of (Pain) Joy

The first of the two fics that I submitted to @anachronism-ahitzine Please check out the other writers and artists.

It was seriously the last thing he needed right now, a brain-splitting headache that spread from the back all the way to the front of his cranium. It had been some time since he had to deal with such an annoyance, if the yellow bird's anger was high before, it was now on par with the force of a raging volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. At this rate his movie would never be finished in time.

His right ear-like feathers twitched before Conductor stood up from his director's chair, yelling 'cut' as he stormed over to the frantic Express Owl whose face was contorted in a mix of pain and panic, as he tried to free the tip of his wing from the jagged beak of a fluffy troublemaker. After the young bird realized that her grandfather was coming toward her, the little owlet let go, leaving a big bruise on the wing of the brown bird that handed the girl back to his boss with urgency.

The relief of the Express Owl was cut short when the Conductor glared and made a noise akin to a low growl “Cannae even take care o' a wee one. I'm surrounded by incompetent buffoons!” Even if the owls were already used to the temper and rage of their very irritable boss, it still caused them to shiver and scurry away in fear. His granddaughter buried her face in his chest, as the Conductor carried her back to the playpen that was kept in a room away from the set to avoid exactly the scenario that had just occurred. Why...Why did he have to watch over the little blighters now of all times? It was only a few more months until his movie had to be finished and that meant that he could hardly spare a minute, let alone days to watch over his grandkids!

When he got close to the door of the room the little owlets were kept in, he felt his anger flare up yet again, as he could already hear that something was wrong. He hoped that the commotion was only caused by the disappearance of his granddaughter that he was returning, but of course, luck wasn't on his side today. The moment he opened the door, his gaze immediately fell on an empty playpen. The owl that he snapped his head toward, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else just not right where he was. “Ye better tell me that ye took the wee ones out fer a stroll, laddie.”

Rather than deal with the apparent rage that the owl could not only see, but feel coming off the director like an oppressive, malicious aura, the other bird quickly stormed past him. “I have no idea how they got out!”, the fleeing bird informed as he sprinted down the hall faster than the Conductor had ever seen an Express Owl run...If only they could run this fast in his movies, maybe then they'd not get singed in explosions all the time.

The young owl in his arms started to twist and turn as if uncomfortable, which made the yellow bird realize that he was holding onto her too tightly in his angry state. “I'm sorry, lassie. I didn't mean ta scare ye.” He felt horrible, he had scared his granddaughter so much that she wanted to get away from him. The girl chirped happily when he cradled her in his arms and pet over her head...He could only hope that no one saw that. “Alright, let's go look fer yer siblings.”

He found the first one of the little troublemakers on the top of the huge barn on his set, just walking on the roof tiles with unsteady steps. Before the true gravity of the situation sunk in and he sprinted off to get the young owl, he briefly wondered how his grandson had even gotten up there in the first place, given that he could hardly walk without falling over backwards. The old bird nearly slipped off the roof himself as a loose tile shifted under him. The things he did to keep them safe...Breaking a bone would still have been less problematic than facing the ire of his beloved daughter though, of that he was certain.

“Ye cannae simply run away like that, laddie, ye worried yer grandpa sick.” He picked up the young boy whose feathers lowered as his grandfather lightly scolded him. Getting down with the fragile baby bird proved rather difficult, but thankfully his incompetent owls used their brains for once and brought over a ladder for him to descend safely.

The yellow bird only had time to thank his subordinates briefly as movement and yellow plumage caught his attention down the hallway, heading to his other set. He shoved his grandson into the arms of the Express Owl closest to him, the disapproval of this action was visible on both, as the brown owl stretched his wings out to keep the toddler as far away from him as possible, while the fluffy baby watched his family member leave while lightly sobbing. The director nearly recoiled when he noticed the state of his normally neatly organized dressing room which now looked like a hurricane had torn through it. All the costumes were mixed together on various piles instead of hanging from the clothes hangers that they had originally been placed upon. “Holy peck!” The Conductor balled his talons to fists, his sharp claws nearly digging into his palm as his eyes scanned the room for the little perpetrator that he found with ease, as a pile of clothes in the back moved and gave away the position of his second granddaughter. The little bird was revealed after he tossed neck scarfs, vest, and purposefully ripped and dirtied trousers behind him. Not noticing his presence yet, the young girl continued to put a ruby necklace on that was intended for a wealthy side character in his upcoming movie. She protested and chirped when he pulled the accessory off and carried her out of the room with a scowl on his face.

“Stay in here, ye got that? I know ye want ta play, but I got a movie to record, I ain't got the time right now.” He informed the three young birds that he had found so far, after placing them back in the playpen.

He was about to head back outside the make-shift kids room, when he noticed a couple of Moon Penguins brusquely walking down the hallway, holding one of his grandsons. The way they held him didn't sit right with neither the owlet nor his disgruntled grandfather as they held the young boy by the scruff on his neck like they were taking out the trash, rather than carry an infant. “Don't leave your little terrors on our side of the studio, a'ight. We're not a daycare!” The penguin that was holding the unhappy toddler, dumped said owlet into his arms and dusted off their flippers. The Conductor would have snapped at them if wasn't for the fact that he needed to calm down his grandson first, who appeared glad that he was reunited with him.

“It's true that ye ain't daycare workers, yer a bunch o' talentless clowns who ain't got no idea how to handle a young owl.” The two birds that had started to walk back, turned around once more, their annoyance shifting to spite. Dealing with their leader's arch nemesis was trying their patience enough already, getting insulted over a problem that the yellow- feathered director had caused himself, only angered them more.

“Hey! We wouldn't even have to come over here if YOU had these mini terrors under control! This one nearly ruined the electricity on our set by playing with the cables!”

The Western director contemplated whether he should scold or praise his grandson for doing that, on one hand, he got himself in danger, on the other, he was sabotaging the set of his rival. Instead of admitting to failed supervision, he smirked at the angered penguin. “As if he could ruin that set, it's already held together with duct tape and glue. I wouldnae even call it a set, more like shabby dump!” The self-satisfied bird watched as the more agitated one of the two Moon Penguins gritted his beak and was pulled back by his slightly more calm coworker. It appeared that the more sensible one of the two tried to deescalate the situation by getting his enraged friend away from the director.

Now he had four of his five grandkids back together, he was only missing one, the one that he secretly liked the most...even if picking favorites was a bit of an awful thing to do. His favorite grandson was nowhere to be seen though, not on his sets, nor in the hallway or even the lobby. The Conductor was cursing under his breath when he reluctantly entered the one area that he hadn't looked yet, his rival's side of the studio. Given that the Moon Penguins had brought back one of the little blighters, it wasn't far-fetched to assume that the young boy was over there as well. He ignored the stares and the confusion on the penguins, that seemed to stop dead in their tracks and ceased what they were doing the moment they spotted the Western director just barge in and walk through the sets and down the hallway. When one brave penguin decided to try and stop the yellow owl, he was met with a death-glare and a low growl, which caused the poor bird to step back.

After reaching the end of the hallway, completely unopposed, the Conductor could hear the happy chirps of his missing grandson...and when he opened the door, he was greeted by a sight that he would never have expected. His grandson was smiling widely and made happy chirps and giggles while being lightly thrown into the air and when caught again by none other than his rival. “Come on, darling, up you go again.” The disco-loving bird tossed the boy, who flapped his tiny wings up and down, as if trying to catch the wind to fly, while seemingly having a lot of fun. Fun was the last thing that his grandpa had, however, as he stomped his way into the room.

“What do ye think yer doin' ta me grandson?!” The DJ seemed to not have heard him enter, being so focused on the baby bird, he gasped and visibly flinched while catching the boy again.

“I'm playing with him, darling, something you clearly neglected to do.” The way the young bird snuggled into the exposed feathers on his rival's chest made his blood boil even more, and caused the Conductor to reach out and grab his grandson, pulling him away from the tall penguin. Unsurprisingly, the tiny bird began to cry.

“Look at what you've done, Conductor, the little darling started to cry!” The owl was shocked to hear his grandson suddenly wail as he was being carried away by him.

“You kidnapper! You stole him from his playpen just to spite me, eh! Ye peck neck!” The penguin rolled his eyes at the accusation, his shades hiding the action from the other bird who tried to calm the little one down.

“I did no such thing, Conductor, he fell out of the vent and thankfully landed in my hair. I was going to return him.” The sci-fi director tried to reach out to the little owlet and the young bird rose his tiny wings out toward him in an attempt to wiggle out of the tight hold he found himself in.

The Conductor was about to just take the missing child back to the others that he had already gathered, but loud noises in the vent above, and the screaming of panicked Express Owls that were shut down by louder yelling from the Moon Penguins, caused him to stop dead in his tracks. When he focused, the yellow owl could make out “Conductor” and “Grandchildren” in the cacophony of voices. The kids must have escaped again!

Swallowing the harsh insults with which he wanted to express his anger and disappointment for the lack of competence his owls displayed, he took a look at the vent shaft that his grandson had supposedly used to get to the DJ's dressing room. Said DJ observed him for a moment and wanted to open his beak to ask what his rival was doing. The penguin couldn't help but laugh when his rival tried to look up the vent and was brought to the ground as four little owlets fell right on him. “Need some help there, darling?”

The ear-like feathers of the old owl twitched as he sat up again. “I donnae need yer help!-” He turned to look at the young birds with rage still present in his voice. “- Come here!” The owlets started to hide behind the flashy penguin, shaking with fear and whimpering. The yellow bird didn't need the disapproving glare from his rival to know that he had messed up badly...He had scared his grandkids. “I'm sorry, I...I should have taken some time off to play with ye.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, the confidence in it gone. They only wanted to be with him...and he had just shoved them away.

When the owlets hesitated, the sci-fi director put his contempt for the old owl behind and bent down to talk to the kids. “How about we get you some toys, darlings?” That got their attention easily. DJ Grooves sent his penguins to pick up some of the cheap plastic props from storage. The Conductor meanwhile, had an idea to get the affection of his grandkids back and had his owls set up the big trainset that he had shoved into a corner of his office and put it on his set. Maybe he should have looked at the measurements before buying it.

The young birds played with the small space shuttles that the DJ had brought for them...until they heard the high pitched sound of a train whistle on a smaller scale. The yellow owl watched as his grandkids admired the train and the three carts it pulled. He was a bit worried when they decided to climb onto the carts and ride around on them, but he smiled when he noticed their happy faces and cheerful chirps. Wondering where the kids had went, the penguin checked on his rival's set, finding the old bird in the middle of a small railroad, surrounded by ecstatic owlets. He rolled his eyes when the Conductor noticed him and gave his signature smug smile, the very same one he always had to endure whenever the Western director won the Award. “Did ye think ye could replace me, DJ peck neck? Nae, ye cannae have 'em, I love these wee blighters!”

#anachronism zine #ahit #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #ahit conductor's grandkids #ahit moon penguins #ahit fanfic

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youremyheaven · 29 days

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I'm the Ketu anon again and I relate to what the other Ketu anon said. It's not like i don't care if it's someone I love. I just don't feel connected to their problem if that makes sense. Like I know I could do a lot of things but I just don't? I also feel for them when it's a bigger issue like a breakup and honestly I cried while my friends cried in my arms for stuff like that. Or a few days ago in the train a lady randomly told me about her abusive relationship with her ex husband and I cried a little too. But if they are mad/sad/angry at something casual I limit myself to listening and trying to say something useful...I dont feel like it deserves a mental breakdown like some people and I keep myself detached from stuff as much as I can

and yes. for me it's a mix of "i don't care about this stuff" and "i'm overwhelmed by their emotional expression and i dont know what to do help".

I was raised by a Ketu mom and a Ketu dad as well. They always seemed "shameless" in not having a lot of reaction while i was crying. They listened and maybe gave me a hug or talked to me but in the most detached way.

And the delusions of grandeur... I don't think so. I have a really weak self-esteem and an inferiority complex. But I realized having an inferiority complex is just as delusional and egocentric as a superiority one so maybe that counts 😭😭😭 I do have my ego fed by others but I don't believe them when they say something nice to me, maybe people think that I dont say anything because I already think high of myself but if anything I think really low of myself or I dont give a fuck about myself... 😭😭😭 I also struggle with complimenting people, even when I want to tell them something I don't. I'm really quiet in general. I think my solar friends helped me with that because they give compliments freely and they are not ashamed to tell a girl they barely know "girl, you got a nice ass" or something like that, so when they do it I can take advantage and say " right? i also like your nails" or something lol

I hope Ketuvians don't think that I'm implying that every Ketuvian who has ever lived is incapable of showing emotion but by and large Ketuvians are a little detached and disconnected from that stuff and I get it?? I get why you dgaf about whatever random stuff I'm talking about and I understand that but sometimes I feel like (and this is just my experience) some Ketuvians also don't care/connect to/don't know what to do when it's a real problem being talked about and someone's hurt. Basically they're not the people you go to for emotional support and to be comforted by and I had to learn this the hard way lol

It's fine as long as the other person does not require or expect a certain kind of emotional presence and treatment bc otherwise it comes across as being cold and distant

It's nice that your Solar friends have helped you!! 🫶

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pftones3482 · 11 months

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Okay I can see why people are bummed about certain parts of the Season 5 finale, but it was genuinely??? So good??? Like it was not bad at all, it's wild to me that people are calling the whole thing terrible because of like. Two plot points.

Spoilers and thoughts under the cut (in no particular order):

I fucking loved the Bug Noire design, her eyes were so COOL LOOKING

The classmates all getting their kwamis back STOP 😭😭😭😭 Wayzz and Trixx get to hang out all the time now that's so cute I'm gonna die.

I need an entire episode about what the fuck Jagged Stone, Penny, and Luka were up to because WHAT WAS THAT?

Loved getting to see the other heroes again, it was a nice change of pace

GOD TIKKI AND PLAGG??? WHAT?? The lighting in that scene was so pretty 10/10

I'm glad Gabriel fucking died he deserved it 🖕

Following that, I truly think that if Gabriel's plea had come even one season ago, I would have felt more sympathy for him. I felt none. I was rolling my eyes while he was crying. You locked your son in a literal prison Gabe. You are beyond redemption.

Really liked the parallel of this episode with Ladybug fighting w/o Chat while the classmates help out and the episode Representation, where Chat was fighting w/o Ladybug and the classmates were helping out. Not QUITE the same, but I'm glad we did get a fairly Chat-centric episode before the finale

Adrien absolutely deserves to know that his father was Hawkmoth. But he's also had like. The SHITTIEST fucking life the last year or two. His mom fucking died, his dad stopped being a dad, he was overworked, never allowed to see friends, was a whole ass superhero on top of that, and then his father sent him to a different fucking country so he couldn't be with his girlfriend. And then said father DIES and suddenly his mom is magically alive and Nathalie isn't on deaths door??? Yeah, I'd give him some time to process and just be a kid for once too. He is definitely going to find out, and when it does it'll be angsty and I will enjoy it

I really hope they don't drag out the Lila plot five more seasons. This show has fallen victim to the "too many seasons" problem and at this point I'm mostly in it for the kwamis and the classmates relationships lol

God poor Nooroo can't catch a break 😭

While I was low-key hoping for a reveal, it would have felt really forced and out of place given that Chat Noir literally didn't show up until the very end of the season finale, so I'm glad they didn't shoehorn it in

Alya. Round of a fucking plause for Alya please and thank you. Also please I need more of her and Plagg they were adorable the way he went to her for help when he couldn't find Marinette

Actually round of applause for all the classmates trying their damnedest to keep the city from falling to chaos I love them all so much together

Love that these kids have just fully accepted that their principal is a little wacky and they continue to include him

BABY BUSTIER I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

Marinette was so fucking snappy and good with the comebacks during her fight with Gabriel it was fantastic

Also the way she reacted to seeing him as Gabriel was INSANE the animators did such a good job with that

Back to Alya for a hot sec, the way she looked at Nino during the classmates group hug was so soft 😭❤️

Adrien understanding that he was at high risk of hurting the world as Chat Noir and being under the influence of nightmares is such a mature move. Alya realizing the same thing? God give them more SCENES together

Once again. TIKKI AND PLAGG???? TF???

In conclusion:

The finale wasn't bad, you guys are just upset there wasn't a reveal and that Adrien still doesn't know his dad was a literal terrorist. Which is valid, you can be upset about it, but the rest of the finale was pretty damn satisfying and it's a disservice to the crew who worked on it to just dismiss it entirely.

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 spoilers #conformation spoilers #recreation spoilers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Forbidden Lessons XXXII (Path B)

Masterlist

Make sure to follow which path you’re reading and I hope it’s not too confusing. Each path (a and b) are separate storylines.

Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, mentions of suicide, depression, pregnancy and abortion, violence. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

You walk through campus with a sense of sullenness. You recall the first day you got to college, how hopeful you were. Your aspirations weren't high or extravagant, you were only happy for the possibilities. You could be your own person. Away from your mother and your childhood bullies.

That day, you walk over your crushed dreams strewn in the wet grass. It's been so long, no doubt, you've been scrubbed from the class lists. Your tuition forfeit just like your independence.

There is little solace to find in your circumstance. You can stay with Bucky, afraid and alone, or you can strike an ounce, a semblance of vengeance.

You feel the tickle on the nape of your neck. That day in his class when he sat beside you, his arm hooked behind your seat, as he played the tortured admirer. Then all those times, in his office, in hushed tones in the hallway, in his car, at the hotel, how he bemoaned the wrongness, the risks.

Well, he gambled and he will lose. Something, anything, maybe not everything.

You get to the historic building and look up at brown brick, set a century or so ago, standing the test of time. It stood here long before you and will remain long after you. You climb the steps to the arched wooden doors and let your feet carry you off sheer memory.

As you near his office, the door is closed. You recall how you met him here, what he did to you inside, the words, the way he touched you, the way he coiled around like a snake around a mouse.

You read his name engraved in the gold plate and raise your hand, pausing as you hear a giggle from within. You step closer and turn your ear to the wood. The laughter turns to a purr, the shallow breaths of pleasure underline by his low encouragements. Those once spoken to you.

You hit the door. Hard.

The office goes quiet and you wait. Whispers, waiting. Then it starts again. You knock just as quickly, hammering with the side of your hand.

A sigh and some muttered disappointment. You hear shuffling and the click of his soles as he nears the other side. You haven't thought of what to say. Or even do.

"May I--" he stops short as he sees you. His face tenses with his surprise and he fixes his tie.

A young girl stands by the chair, gathering up her bag as she tries not to show her awkwardness. She keeps her lashes low and refuses to look at you.

"Professor, I should go--"

"I'm pregnant!" You burst out suddenly.

Her mouth hangs open and Loki blinks slowly, eyes rolling sardonically to the side.

"And what does that have to do with--"

"It's yours," you interrupt, shaking with adrenaline, plunging headfirst into the unknown. "You know," you step forward and elbow past him as you speak to the girl, "I sat there once. He said the same things to me, touched me the same way, told me he's too old, too afraid..."

He grabs your arm and pulls you back, "don't listen to her. She doesn't go hear anymore, for obvious reasons. She's delusional."

"I'm not delusional, maybe a little broken, maybe a little sad, maybe?" You tug away from him, "but don't be like me. Say something or run. Do anything but let him do what he does."

"Loki?" She murmurs as her eyes shine.

He huffs and waves her off, "whatever, it was fun while it lasted."

She scoffs and her brows arch, "you're a pig. I should tell the dean--"

"That you came onto me? I'm certain he'll believe you. Besides, the union will protect me. Like they did last time."

You're surprised by that. Last time? Doesn't matter. She sneers and storms towards him. He doesn't flinch even as her palm collides with his face.

You step aside as she sweeps out with some select words for the professor. He shakes his head as he watches her go with dull irritation. He grasps the door and swings it shut, jolting you.

"Well, what is it you want from me? You and your... bastard?"

You squint at him. He hasn't changed, not that you expect he would. It only emboldens you to keep on.

"It's yours, we both know it."

"Do I? No one's seen you for two months. How do I know you haven't been hiding with some boy. We both know it isn't very difficult to get between your legs--"

"You know," you insist, "I'm not that far but I am."

"You stupid girl--"

"You stupid man!" You bluster, "you did this. You... you know better. The first time, the second time."

He looks away, crossing his arms as he paces. It's the first time you've seen him uneasy. Truly and completely unprepared.

"Your mother--"

"Should I tell her too?"

"She wouldn't believe you. She thinks you've run off with some college boy, just like she did. She did tell you about your father, didn't she?"

"Don't," you warn.

He chuckles and turns to lean against his desk, long legs angled beneath him, "she still calls. Drives in every weekend so I have to hide away my pets..."

You shudder and clench your fists, "I will tell everyone I need to destroy your life. Just like you did mine--"

"Or perhaps you might take a tumble down those stairs and it there won't be anything to tell?" He stands straight, "we can both make threats."

"I'm not walking away with nothing. Not again."

"Oh, I know you won't, because you can't," he says loftily, "no doubt, you've escaped whatever fool you've been hiding with. I have an idea of who it is. He did make another visit after our last romp. He left without content. Pity."

"I'm not going to get rid of it."

"No, I suspect you won't, so let us barter," she nears and brings a curled finger up under your chin, "you're nothing special, you were just another girl and yet, I do look back fondly at the feel of you around me."

You grimace and pull away, "you're disgusting."

"And you're a used toy," he counters, "so, money? Is that what you seek?"

"It's what I need, what your baby needs," you affirm.

"And you you expect me to... care for that child?" He asks reluctantly.

"I don't expect you to care about anything. I learned that the hard way."

"Well, I suppose it's only owed. Your needs taken care of, and the child too," he turns his hand out, "I can afford it. Your mother may not be happy to have her tainted daughter back on her doorstep--"

"I'm not going back to my mother."

"Certainly, you won't stay with me--"

"Never," you snort, "my own place, for me and the baby."

His jaw grits and his lashes flutter in agitation, "fine."

"Fine," you agree and stretch out your fingers.

"And I will visit, like a good father and you will behave as a good mother," a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, he reaches for you once more, walking you back until you hit the door, "like the good little pet you always were."

"No. No," you catch his hand, "I can't. I won't. My mother--"

"Your mother would let me bend you over in front of her and enjoy her wine all the more," he swats away your hand and frames your through, "she might even love you if you can make me happy."

You swallow and press yourself to the wood. This was a bad idea but what other option do you have?

"Please, I'm pregnant--"

"As you do keep reminding me off. So, you protect that child, we wouldn't want you getting hurt," his green eyes gleam, "do we?"

You reluctantly nod as his hand slips under the weight of yours. He slides it down to grope your chest and squeezes with a hum.

"Take a seat, pet, you did interrupt me and office hours are not over," he pulls you away from the door, "doesn't this bring back memories, darling?"

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #forbidden lessons #mcu #marvel #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #ask drabble #professor!loki #professor!bucky

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twinkie-buttercream · 2 years

Text

Skull Rock - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, reader is same age as Eddie. Drug use, unprotected PIV, oral giving/receiving (M, F), biting, semi-public (in the middle of the woods where no one can hear you scream), pining, fluff, language in excess, hot weather; reader is only described by clothing. Let me know if anything else needs to be tagged. :)

A/N: I have so many other wips I'm working on but the Eddie brainrot is too strong. I hope y'all like this! And I extra hope I did ok keeping him in character. ⊙﹏⊙; first time writing for him or any stranger things character! Gif is not mine. Nor is Eddie. Alas.

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"Slow down, Jesus H Christ on a six speed bike!"

"How 'bout you keep up?"

"How 'bout you eat me, Munson?"

"Don't tempt me, princess—"

"Eddie!"

"What? You said it!"

Both voices and bodies were on the verge of being breathless as you and Eddie Munson raced each other to Skull Rock. Eddie's was, as it often was, emphatic and teasing. You were, as you often were as well, indignant and cranky in the most casual way. Eddie beat you up the last stretch of the unmarked trail, chains jingling victoriously. He shot up two devils horns, sticking his tongue out a la Gene Simmons in lieu of a victory cry.

You wasted no time collapsing against the giant boulder that gave the spot its nickname, with its vaguely humanoid eye socket-like craters. The stone was the coolest thing you'd felt in a while as your bare arms pressed against the rough surface. Sinking to the ground, you shut your eyes and tried to catch your breath, feeling your heart in your throat.

"You ready?"

"Give me a minute, Eds, fuck," you cursed, coming out more like a whimpered moan as you wiped the sweat from your brow and hiked the back of your sweat-covered tank top higher up on your back, letting the cool stone touch your burning skin.

Your eyes were still shut. You didn't see the way Eddie was tracing every detail of you with his eyes, from the flushed sweaty sheen on your skin to the less-than-subtle fact you'd not worn a bra that day. The chill of the rock made your whole body shiver and your nipples stand at attention. He gnawed at his lower lip, chuckling a little at your low stamina.

The Hawkins summer heat had about done you both in. That's what led you to hide in the woods near the lake where it was cooler than it was in town. You slid to the ground, coming to a final rest, breathing still ragged.

Eddie drank you in there in your little high waisted denim cutoff shorts and red and white pinstriped knit spaghetti strap tank top, white tube socks and tawny hiking boots. He could look at you forever, but between your relaxed pose sprawled out with one of your knees up and your lips parted to better catch your breath, it was unwise to attempt, lest certain...issues arise.

He reached into the backpack he carried with him (you were a bit miffed that he carried the extra weight and still beat you up the hill, but that's a Metalhead for you) and extracted a frozen bottle of water, now heavily condensated and partly melted.

"Replenish yourself," he insisted, wasting no time in pressing the icy wet bottle into the crook of your neck.

Your eyes popped open so wide and so fast he thought they'd pop right out, and he wanted to laugh at that, but found himself too distracted by the pleasurable shriek that tore out of your throat. He didn't have time to question it; you snatched the cold bottle, broke the seal, and began to gulp down the icy water. It was so cold and so refreshing. You poured a bit of it on the back of your neck and your whole body shuddered again. You returned it to Eddie then, who managed to get what was left of the melted liquid before returning the bottle to the backpack.

"Feel better?" He asked, casual in tone despite the way his heart raced against his will.

You nodded and looked at him through your eyelashes, wiping sweat off your forehead. You'd gotten goosebumps. Eddie slunk down beside you, digging through his black lunchbox. He extracted a perfectly rolled joint and a bic lighter.

"Light 'er up, Ed," you nodded.

"Hell yeah," he concurred, placing the thing between his lips and flicking the little white lighter until there was a nice red cherry burning at the end of the joint.

He took a heavy drag off of it and held it in as he handed it to you, who then did the same. The rotation continued with you coughing hard every other hit. Eddie never judged your 'pussy lungs' as you called them. He was the type to pat your back if you were losing your shit and try to calm you down, make sure you had a drink, that kind of thing. He may look intimidating but he really was a sweetie wrapped up in denim and chains. The two of you sat and smoked the whole thing down to a butt. He put it out and saved the roach for later, leaning back against the rock.

The pair of you had moved under the Skull, into the shade once the evening sun crept through the canopy of the trees. You'd had the sense to pack a little picnic blanket that came in handy separating yourselves from the dirty forest floor. The black and blue quilt was rather small albeit lightweight, so now you were sat beside him, practically on him, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, practically one being, high as hell and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Now he laid back with his eyes shut. Unbeknownst to him, you were eyeing him in appreciation whilst he was indisposed. The sprawling, gorgeous form of Eddie Munson. Gentle pale face, sparkling ever wandering brown eyes shut peacefully in a half doze, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks. He was dressed the same way he always was; dark jeans, that hand-customized denim Dio jacket, the Hellfire Club shirts, all those rings. Hair dark and voluminous and unruly as always. He was just so pretty. You'd been his friend for years, one of few who stuck around aside from the band. Truth be told, you'd always felt something deeper for Eddie, though you could never place a finger on how—

"What you checking me out for?"

Your whole body tensed and heated up when you realized his eyes had opened and found yours already on him. You blushed hard and stuttered for a moment aimlessly.

"I, uh...making sure you're...okay and all...yeah."

"Yeah?" A cocky grin.

"...Yeah."

You were sky high, but you wish you could pass the stratosphere and land on another planet. You suddenly wanted to crawl out of your skin for some reason. Your hands sat on your thighs, palms down, relaxed. Your eyes drifted shut in the following silence. You felt yourself relax, slowly. Until his pinky found yours, and wheedled underneath, entwining with your digit. Shy. Nervous. Easy. You didn't pull away, but gave a tentative, microscopic squeeze. Nothing was said, but everything was, until you couldn't keep quiet.

"Eds?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Do you like me?"

He tensee up. You felt it.

"Why, do you like me?"

He played with his hair, hiding his face partly behind his long teased locks, blinking long eyelashes at you, those big brown eyes twinkling.

"I'm here aren't I? Of course," you faltered, trying to be casual.

"You know what I mean. And I know what you mean, princess."

He sighed and your heart crashed into your stomach. Instantly you braced yourself for the inbound rejection, even as his fingers swallowed your hand now, clasping with his own, the slight cold feeling of his rings soothing on burning flesh. He squeezed tightly and scooted around to face you better, but you couldn't look at him.

"Hey, hey," he spoke gently, "look at me, sunshine. Hey."

You finally chanced a glance back at his face. He was more serious than you've ever seen him. Those brown eyes darted between yours, holding your gaze captive, and he was nibbling on his lower lip at the corner, a microscopic stimulation you knew as his pre-performance jitter tell. All eyes on you though, no crowd in sight.

"Can I be honest?" He asked softly.

"I would hate you if you weren't," you mumbled.

Here it comes.

He gnawed at his soft pink lip a little harder. Your breath caught in your throat.

"I've liked you since the first day I met you," he finally started. "I've liked you since you were the only one in school that didn't treat me like a disease. I've liked you since you asked me to lend you my Black Sabbath tape, even if you didn't like it..."

The emphasis he placed on the word 'liked' every time he said it had you flinching. You weren't sure if he got what you were intending after all. At least he wasn't weirded out by you, but…

"—But," he cut himself off. You realized he'd gotten a little closer when you lost focus. You could smell his cheap cologne. "I never really realized how much..."

"How much?" You repeated, blinking rapidly, starting to feel unsure whether you were being let down easy or not. Eddie swallowed hard.

"...I never realized just how much I want to kiss you. I never realized until...well, today, I think. You've been too good to me, for so long. And I promise you, I would ruin you."

"Maybe I want to be ruined," you blurted out breathlessly before you could think. He blinked at you, eyes wide in surprise. A wide grin spread across Eddie's face, and he twirled his hair between his fingers with his free hand for a second, letting the heat in his face come and pass.

"Is that so?" His voice was teasing now.

"Just kiss me, Eddie," you fussed. His demeanor changed again. He was vulnerable.

"As you wish," he practically whispered, and the last bit of space left between the two of you was gone.

It started soft. His lips were soft and warm, and he tasted like weed and the ice cream you two had eaten before heading out on this excursion. Sweet, earthy. A little minty from the mint chocolate chip. And he didn't pressure you. There was almost an air of innocence in the way his lips molded to yours, the way his free hand came to your cheek, his calloused thumb caressing the tender flesh of your face. His movements were gentle, experienced; a soft rhythm played out until you had to breathe. As you pulled away, he sucked your lower lip between his, and with the lightest possible pressure he dragged it between his teeth as you separated. Something in your gut flipped, moreso than the butterflies eating you alive from the inside. This was different. You felt tense in your core. You felt hot. You immediately missed his touch.

"Eds?" You barely squeaked.

"Yeah, babe? Can I call you babe now?"

You grinned and nodded.

"Can you do that again though?"

"Kiss you? Hell yeah—"

"I mean the...last thing. That you did. With your teeth."

"You like that, princess?" His eyebrows disappeared into his bangs, grin becoming cocky.

You nodded rapidly.

"I would do anything to please my queen," he spoke in his theatrical Dungeon Master voice, not as loud or flamboyant as usual, but the passion was there. As he leaned down he got soft again though, eyes holding yours again in that hypnotic way. "If I go too far, tell me to stop, okay? No hard feelings, I'll understand. Just...tell me. Okay?"

You nodded again. "I will. I trust you, Eds."

He bit his lip and looked almost a little...pained? No. The same sense of urgency that was blooming inside your core was making him feverish as well. You'd been his closest confidant for a long time. For a while he just loved your company: how smart you are, how kind to others, how down to earth you stayed, how you stuck up for the lost and the unloved, whether that meant saving a raccoon hit by a car and nursing it back to health or punching Patty Reagan in the teeth for cornering Eddie with her posse of cheerleaders harassing him within like, the first week of freshman year. You broke her nose and looking back, Eddie was pretty sure that was the moment he fell for you. That was six years ago. You'd graduated. He stuck around, but you stayed close to him even after school ended for you; you never judged him. That's when he knew for sure. And now, under Skull Rock, here by your side, all that love gave way to the carnal instinct buried in nearly all human beings. He would never admit to you how he'd dreamed about touching you under your clothes and woke up in cold sweats with the fresh mental image of you cumming around his hard cock, having to immediately take care of the resulting very painful morning erection. He might admit to you the dreams he has about holding you close in a place you share together, falling asleep to you and waking up to you. Looking at you now though, he felt a twang in a very private place and knew if he started with you, he would never be able to stop. Not after one time, not after a million. Not till death. Or undeath. That would be metal as fuck.

He leaned down and kissed you the same way, slow at first and gentle, hand cupping your cheek, his other letting go of your fingers to cup your other cheek. This time, though, he slid his tongue across your lower lip. Almost involuntarily, an instinct, you opened for him, and he tasted you. Caramel vanilla fudge sundae and Northern Lights. Fucking gorgeous. His tongue tangled with yours and though you had been kissed before, it was never like this, and it never made your stomach twirl and flip like this either. You had to lock your knees for a moment to calm yourself, hoping he didn't notice. His teeth found your lower lip again, and you leaned into him, hands climbing the front of his sweat-and-water-soaked Hellfire shirt, one getting tangled in his hair at the back of his head. He slipped his fingers behind the base of your skull and kissed you harder. You felt dizzy. Once you separated for air again, a string of saliva kept you united until it broke. Your lips were swollen and so were his. In the time you were joined at the lips, he'd come to hover over you, one knee between your thighs. You had no self defense against your body now. But you became very aware you weren't the only one.

"Eds," you cooed again softly, staring into the deep chocolate pools of his eyes that came to stare back just as intensely, "you're poking me."

His face reddened until it matched the demon on his shirt as he looked down and found himself, yes, rock hard against your leg. Skinny jeans didn't tent well, but there was certainly a bulge, and you were no fool.

"S-sorry," he stammered, trying to back away; his knee rubbed against the heat of your core through your shorts and you sucked in your lower lip. It was now or never. Or at least, you really wanted him now.

"Who said you had to be sorry?" You blurted out once more.

His eyes went wide and he stared at you. Regret didn't hit you immediately, but it circled you like a hungry jungle cat. You may as well get in the hole you dug just now regardless of whether the claws sink in.

"I'm not as much of a saint as you might think, Eddie Munson," you spoke with a slight pout.

He grinned and laughed. Your heart panged with indignance, but the bit of shame made your legs want to come together again. Eddie calmed himself and stroked your cheek again lovingly.

"I know, I know, princess. Are you...sure though?" He became a little more grave, letting you see the gravity of the question.

As jovial as he was outwardly, his heart was pounding, making a great escape attempt from behind his ribcage. This was his greatest fantasy, was it really about to come true, here and now, with you? Could be be so lucky? Could be be so, dare he say it, blessed? You were an angel, after all. His fallen angel.

You played with the hem of his t-shirt, your knees finally jerking to lock together to stave off the growing heat in your core. Instead you squeezed the hell out of his thigh. He swallowed hard and wondered if you knew the effect you had on him. Maybe this was a cruel joke.

"I'm as sure as I've ever been, Eds. If it makes you feel any better, I'm in just as, uh... rough shape," you tittered awkwardly, feeling more shame at your admittance. It was an addictive sort of sheepishness.

He glanced down, staring at the patch in your shorts that seemed a little darker than the rest of the denim. He wondered if you'd skipped your bra and panties that day, but only briefly; he would have a heart attack if he thought too hard about what was between your legs at that moment. He was.

"Are we being totally honest right now?" He asked, avoiding your gaze, trying to keep his head from spinning.

"Of course, milord," you teased, brushing your hair out of your eyes to look up at him expectantly.

Well, Munson, you tell her now or you die trying.

"When I said all that stuff earlier about not knowing I wanted to kiss you till we were about to? It was kind of a crock of shit. I've known for a long while."

Your heart did flips. He was so cute even now in this state of semi-aroused delirium.

"That so?"

"Honest truth. I, uh...just didn't wanna come across as...desperate."

"Desperate?"

"For this. Taking you to Skull Rock, knowing the rep it has. Smoking you out. This wasn't part of the plan but fuck, I am thanking every deity I can think of that this is how it's going. I don't know how much longer I could lay beside you in those shorts and not say anything. Or do anything. I just didn't want you to think after all these years I'm just trying to…I don't know, just fuck you."

You didn't know how to feel. Excited, obviously, but so touched, so surprised that all this time he's felt this way…like you haven't. It was a weight off you to know he felt the same. Oh. Relief. That's the word you're looking for.

"I'd never think that Eddie. You're not that kind of guy," you soothed, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. "But, just out of curiosity... what would you do to me, Eds?" You took his hand and placed it high on your thigh. His fingertips dug into the bare flesh, soft and hot, and he gulped again.

"Fuck," he groaned, "I'll show you if you want."

You grinned at him. There was one thing left to say, and you only hoped it would affect him the way you thought.

"Obey your master," you shrugged, casual, simple.

He groaned a guttural groan and sunk his lips to yours again, hard, his other hand finding the small of your waist, climbing up, under the fabric of your tank top, onto the soft globe of your breast. You whimpered into the kiss as he toyed with your lip with his teeth again, and your hips involuntarily ground against his leg.

"Fuck, baby," he growled against your mouth, "you wanted this a while too, huh?"

"Dreamt about it," you nodded, peppering him with open mouthed kisses, "wanted you for a long time Eddie."

"Really?" All the energy ceased for a moment and he pulled back to search your eyes with a genuine curiosity, "How long?"

"A very long time. S'why I left Peter before graduation. Felt bad thinking about you when I couldn't sleep. Felt worse about thinking of you when I was, um…with him."

That was the hottest thing you could have said to Eddie. He imagined you in the backseat of Peter Oliver's dad's station wagon, thinking only of Eddie as someone else tried to make you feel the way you knew Eddie could.

"That so?" He kissed you again, brief but passionate, "why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Didn't want to know if you didn't feel the same. Better to just...imagine and be happy with what could be, I guess."

"That why you always dress like this around me? See if what could be, would be? Hm?" He pinched your ass, the bottoms of your cheeks exposed by the minimal covering of your shorts. You flinched in the best way.

"Maybe. S'also just comfy when it's hot like this..." You mumbled.

"Mhmm," he hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking and licking until he found the spot that made you squirm, and attached himself there, still teasing your nipple and massaging your tit.

"You can still change your mind," he informed you between kisses, softly, though you were moaning underneath him at his every touch.

"Can. Won't. You can too though," you panted, already struggling for words, but desperate to be sure he was comfortable.

"Girl of my dreams writhing beneath me in the throes of carnal sin? Yeah, right," he teased, and then his hand found the button and zipper of your shorts. He made quick work of them, and his body reacted hard to the confirmation you had no panties on.

"Eds," you gasped as his calloused fingers wormed into the front of your shorts. The tip of his index finger dipped into the slick hot wetness between your thighs and he gasped.

"Fuckin' wet for me," he growled, "so wet, baby."

"Mm," you nodded, unable to elaborate.

It had been so long since anyone touched you like this. You didn't date after Peter. Everyone including Eddie assumed the bastard broke your heart and you were still healing, but knowing the truth felt like the end of a mystery. No one could hold up to the way you loved Eddie. Knowing that was better than any prior victory to him. Knowing he was the one you wanted.

He began to toy with your clit, using your slick to lubricate the pleasure button as he played with it. You squirmed at every touch. His fingers were so talented. You knew that already, but experiencing it was something else entirely. His other hand left your tit to tug your lower garments down, and regrettably his right hand left your crotch to do the same. It took a little team effort to peel the fabric over your ass, but before you knew it, you were clad in only your tank top, socks and boots. For a moment Eddie just sat on his haunches before you and appreciated the sight splayed out for him now. He, seemingly without noticing himself, palmed his erection over his jeans, wincing.

"Fuck, princess, you look so good like this," he groaned, dipping down and forward to kiss you again.

His hands traveled your body in a torturous, slow manner. There wasn't much chill to his rings now but the sensation of smooth metal in contrast to rough fingers and the itchy material of the blanket beneath you, all you could focus on was that touch. That and the way he looked at you, like you were divine. You felt divine. His soft lips trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw, down your neck, and with great pleasure he captured your right nipple in his mouth and began to suck and tease and roll it between his teeth, grinding his hips against the ground between your legs. Fuck, all he wants is you.

His right hand slid between your legs again. He teased your entrance a bit more with those long, thick fingers, but before you could beg him to fuck you with them, he dropped to the ground and spread you out with his thumbs, exposing your pussy fully to him. You were glistening with sweat and slick, and with a deep breath in for air, he descended. You held your breath unwittingly but the moment his hot tongue found your clit in a broad flat hard press, the hood of it also tugged up by a well-intentioned middle finger, and started licking in stiff little motions, it all escaped you. You could only see his eyes, and that was a chancy thing, given his fringe. Those big brown eyes snapped up and met your gaze from his positioning and you swore you would have melted right then and there if you weren't so desperate for more.

"Eddie, baby," you whimpered, arching your back to try and give him a better angle.

He groaned against your cunt, eyes rolling back with sheer delight as your thighs tightened around his skull. He forced your knees wide open again after relishing that sensation for a moment or two.

"Keep 'em spread for me like a good girl. That's it, princess," he praised you with kisses to your inner thighs, just beyond the realm of your pleasure. You got a wicked idea.

"Yes, master," you cooed, spreading your knees a little further, pulling them up a little closer to your chest; this had the exact intended effects. He growled against you, and the vibrations against your clit made your head spin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his long curly locks.

"Keep talking like that and I won't get to fuck you before I cum," he confessed.

"I aim to please," you grunted; this was the wrong choice. One finger teased at your entrance briefly before sliding in with ease as he continued his oral onslaught. Fuck, he's good. "Eds!"

He looked up at you again from his spot between your legs and gave a mischievous wink. You whimpered as the second finger went in. One was easy, two was just on the right side of manageable. You clenched around his fingers.

"Fuck!" He cried, feeling the pulsation of your walls, imagining how good it would feel around his aching cock, straining now against his jeans, neglected. That didn't matter. This was about you. His patterns were hard to keep up with, but every change was a new wave of sinful ecstasy, every caress of his tongue against your clit, every time his fingers curled up and fondled that especially sensitive spot inside you over and over again until you cried out for him again, until you couldn't think straight, until...

"I'm gonna lose it Eds," you whimpered, high and needy, legs trying to snap shut, but you fought with all your might as you felt that growing heat, that tension in your gut, grow stronger by the moment; Eddie's fingers came to a crescendo in rhythm.

"Fuckin' cum for me, princess, cum for master. Fuck!"

You could tell the pet name electrified him, given the way he thrusted into the ground again at its use. A stream of curses and praise fell from your lips, some gibberish, some coherent, all with the same encouraging inclination he's doing his job right, until finally, the cord in you snapped, and you had to brace your hands against Skull Rock behind you to ground yourself in your astonishing climax. He kept thrusting his fingers into you and lapping at your poor cunt until the throbbing stopped. He came to a slow and then a halt, and with only a little regret, his huge fingers slipped out of you. He sat up, smacking your knee in a "good job champ" gesture, wiping the ridiculous amount of your slickness off his face.

"You look so good covered in my cum," you blurted for a third time now, and his eyebrows raised again, for not the last time.

"That so, princess? Maybe we'll have to make it a routine," he grinned that shit-eating Eddie Munson grin that made your heart flutter every time you saw it, and then he began to stand; you grabbed his hand.

"Your turn," you informed him; he looked at you, puzzled.

"Baby, it's okay, that was fuckin' amazing, you did so good, you don't have to worry about me," he told you softly, stroking your hand with his pruned fingers.

You stared hungrily at the tent in his jeans.

"I don't have to, but I want to," you told him, lust creeping through your tone. You licked your lips slow and with purpose. "I wanna know how you taste, Eddie Munson."

He couldn't unbuckle his belt fast enough. You dragged him back down with you, rolling over so he took your place on the blanket with his back against the rock. It was hot to the touch from where you'd been there just moments ago. Your nimble fingers made quick work of his button and zipper, and by fuck, once he was freed from the confines of the denim pants, even in his underwear he stuck straight up, hard and proud. You stroked his shaft through the fabric of his boxers and he had to bite his lip hard.

"Ooh, god, baby," he groaned.

"Excited already?" You tutted at him and stroked him again, enjoying the way he reddened so fast.

It had been a while for you, sure, but the preps in high school called you a slut for only one reason: though Peter was your only lover in the timeframe of those four years, it somehow circulated through the whole basketball team (and thus to all the cheerleaders they banged) that you, innocent you, gave the best head in Hawkins High, maybe in all of Indiana. But rumors were what they were. Eddie couldn't get them out of his head as your eyes flickered up to meet his; you bent your head and kissed the head of his dick over his boxers. He could have wept holy tears. When you finally pulled the fabric off him, his cock sprung up and pressed against his stomach he was so hard. He had the beginnings of abs, too, you noticed them for the first time up close as you pushed his shirt up over his stomach. Eddie was right. He's going to ruin you. But not if you ruin him first.

"Baby," Eddie rumbled, "you look so beautiful."

It was that sweet praise that made you put aside your nerves and gently grasp the base of him. You pressed your tongue flat to his slit and took one long, very purposeful, torturous, delicious lick, from the back of your tongue to the tip of it, shaping it into a hard point as it passed over him. His fingers buried in your hair already.

"Fuck," he growled. There was almost regret there in not telling you sooner.

He stared at you in sheer awe and lust as your tongue swirled around his head again, and finally, tucking your teeth under your lips, you took him wholly in your mouth and began sucking. You relished the taste of him. A little sweaty and musky and ever so slightly bitter from the taste of his precum, you found yourself enjoying it. Maybe that's why you gave such good head: you genuinely enjoyed it. The feeling of making your partner happy, or even just the feeling of a hard cock ramming the back of your throat…you took as much of him in as you could (Eddie is a lot bigger, longer, thicker than you'd expected), pushing yourself until you felt him hit the back of your throat. He groaned loud and low as he felt your tongue stick out on the underside of his shaft, nearly touching his balls. You rescinded then and did it again at a slow pace.

"Doing so good, baby, I didn't know you had a mouth like that, fuck," Eddie praised through hard grit teeth; he couldn't take his eyes off of you, and thought he could have died when yours snapped up to meet his.

Your hand and mouth found a sort of synchronization, a rhythm to unfurl him with, and he'd occasionally thrust against you, trying not to hurt you but becoming more aware that you can take it. You hummed as you took him in, letting him relish the vibration of your throat around his cock. You hollowed your cheeks when you could, but he was a lot to take in. You gagged very rarely, but the tears were starting, just from the physical reaction to his dick using your uvula as a punching bag. He watched every move and kept thinking about the way your pussy almost broke his fingers when you came. Well, maybe not, but he certainly felt the pressure. Your mouth was a fucking treat but he wanted to know what it felt like to fuck you, truly, to bury himself balls-deep inside you, make you scream for him. You carried on sucking him off though, a free hand coming up from under to gently fondle his balls, and when he felt that all too familiar buildup inside them, inside his core, he pulled your hair, and you took the signal to cease and desist. As you sat back, a long trail of saliva mixed with precum kept you connected to his twitching cock, until you wiped the drool off your lips and chin. You licked your lips slowly and he couldn't stop himself from kissing you. It was a weird sensation to taste himself on you, but it was kinky. You could still taste your own juices on him too, and felt quite the same.

"You're way too fucking good at that, princess," Eddie groaned, panting hard, holding you by the ass cheeks.

"Then why'd you make me stop?" You pouted; he gnawed at his lip again. You seemed irritated. "I wanted to make you cum too."

He glanced down your body and wondered if he had any condoms on him. Normally he kept one in his wallet, but you'd told him they get ruined that way, so he got rid of it. Fuck.

"I just…fuck, I really want to feel you, babe," his hands trailed up your back and pulled you closer to him. Both of you were naked from the waist down now and his hard cock was throbbing against your belly, "but I don't have any protection."

You stared at him and bit your lip. Now that he'd mentioned it, you would quite like to be fucked into the dirt by him.

"I've been on the pill since Peter," you told him, "if you're good, uh…I'm good."

He stared at you with wide eyes, putting two and two together, until finally it clicked.

"You saying what I think you're saying, princess?"

You grabbed his cock and stroked it, longing for it, desperate.

"Take me, master."

In an instant you were on your back on that blanket again. Eddie propped your head up with the backpack, mostly emptied of contents though it was, it was some sort of cushion. Eddie had only fucked with condoms. So had you. But in high school you just fell into the habit of taking those little round pills every day about 3pm. You'd kept up with it swimmingly.

Eddie sat back on his haunches before you, staring down at you, drinking you in.

"I mean it. Fuck, you look so gorgeous. I almost feel like I'm defiling a work of art," he stroked his cock as he spoke, lazily but with a purpose.

Your knees opened and rose near your chest, exposing yourself to Eddie. Sucking his cock got you all sorts of wet again, and you ran a few fingers across your own pussy, testing the waters, more or less.

"Master takes what he likes," you continued into the bit, and he sunk to his knees before you.

"I don't deserve you," he almost whimpered.

"You do. And I deserve you." You rebutted, looking him firm in the eye, burning with lust, but also something more.

He nodded once and braced himself at your entrance, teasing the throbbing head of his cock against your wet cunt, shivers going down his spine just from feeling it, really feeling it.

"You're sure?" He asked, one last time, even as you tried to buck your hips and arch your back to get him inside you.

You nodded, worrying your lower lip.

"That's not enough, princess. I need to hear it. Tell me," his voice was gentle, easy, as he stroked your thigh with his thumb.

"Please, I'm sure, Eddie, please fuck me," you begged, tears prickling the corners of your eyes from sheer want. You've never wanted anything more in your life.

He needed no more encouragement and began to inch into you, slowly at first, to let you adjust. But holy fuck, it took every iota of willpower he had not to ravage you. Nothing felt as good as this. Nothing felt so fucking raw and pure as genuinely feeling the soft wet walls of your pussy wrapping around his hard cock, exposed, natural in most every sense. You mewled, so wet it was almost more difficult not to slide into you all at once. But you were tight and warm and fucking incredible.

"How's it feel, baby?" Eddie purred, watching your every expression, every move, for any sign of discomfort.

"Like heaven," you whimpered, arching your back, "you don't have to be easy with me, Eds. I won't break."

"Oh, don't tell me that, princess," he replied, sounding concerned at first until you figured out the game when he slammed inside you, bottoming out. You felt him against your fucking cervix he was so big, "a guy like me could really do some damage to a pretty pussy like yours."

Your eyes shut tight in sheer ecstasy. Electricity shot through you, starting from your cunt, tingling all the way through your body as he slowly dragged himself almost fully back out.

"Ruin me, Eddie," you cried, clawing at his stomach with short nails, still leaving tracks, "fuck me out. Make me yours."

"Make me yours, what?" He emphasized, licking his thumb and bringing it to your swollen clit in a hard and unforgiving press.

"Master!" You gasped out, bucking against his touch.

He slammed into you again, this time in a rhythm that you hoped would never end. He worried he was losing control, pounding into you the way he was. He hooked one of your legs around his shoulder, and bit into your flesh to keep from screaming out. You felt so fucking good. He was getting pussy drunk, and the sweet little whines and cries you made were just too much. So he bit you. You shrieked and his other hand clamped over your mouth.

"We are still outside, princess," he reminded you; you'd almost forgotten in the excitement where you were.

He let go of your mouth and braced himself against the rock, relishing every sensation he felt in that moment as you did; he felt you squeeze his cock, felt you writhe underneath him, listened to you whimper and the dirty sounds of his balls slapping your ass, along with the distant sounds of birds chirping. Even the smell in the air was intoxicating. Fresh air tinged with the musk of sex. Eddie had to bite you again to keep from yelling out. You didn't seem to mind. In fact, the little slight bit of pain added to the sensations, grounded you. He continued to toy with your clit in a steady and reliable circular motion.

"You look so good like this," he praised, "all drunk on my cock, taking it like it's your life purpose. Fuck baby, you're gonna make me cum."

You nodded desperately, biting against your own hand now, trying to keep quiet. You wanted to scream for him, but the risk of getting caught by someone, no matter how slim a chance, was enough to keep you quiet as you could manage. You squeezed him hard with the walls of your pussy and he growled at you.

"'M close too, Eds," you whimpered, and he began to rub your clit a little faster at this information; it was true, you felt that white hot buildup returning, that incredible high you chased on your own for the last couple of years, the one Eddie could pull from you in minutes, it seemed. You writhed underneath him and he bit your leg a third time, harder than before, still groaning lowly against your flesh.

"Where you want it, princess?" He grunted, hips beginning to stutter.

"Don't stop! Don't stop! Eddie, please!" You cried out, a little louder than you meant to, but Eddie couldn't deny you, and kept pounding your pretty pussy until he felt you convulsing the way his fingers did earlier.

Your walls tightened around him, involuntarily, a pulsing like your cunt was trying to swallow him whole, so tight and wet and hot he was willing to let you. But he couldn't stop himself, either, and when you came, it felt too good; he emptied his balls into you, deep as he could thrust, running on carnal instinct. He was gasping for air, hair a mess all around him like a dark halo, and you couldn't tear your eyes off him, slicked with sweat, gorgeous. You were a sight too, underneath him, panting hard, shirt ridden up to expose your stomach and nearly your tits. He stayed buried in you for a minute, cock still twitching, hard.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, reaching down to brush your hair off your face; you were covered in sweat yourself so it was a bit of a battle.

You glowed, he could swear it, the way you smiled at him, all in a fucked out daze. He pushed his hips forward a little and you whimpered once more as he slid slowly out of you. You felt a warm wet heat pool out of you, down into your ass cheeks. Eddie stared as the combination of his cum and your slick seemed to pour out of you. God there was so much.

"You look so pretty dripping with cum, baby," he praised; he took his boxers and began to clean you up, the slow swipe between your legs to collect your juices almost painful from overstimulation. He leaned down and kissed you, gentle as the first time.

"I thought I always look pretty," you joked softly, absolutely spent.

"You do, fair point," he chuckled warmly, sinking down to lie beside you on the ruined blanket, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You reached into the backpack you were resting on and extracted his cigarettes without being asked.

"Marry me," he uttered as you handed them to him with his lighter.

"Keep this up and I just might, Munson." You teased, placing a kiss on his lips before he could insert a cigarette. You kissed his jaw as you pulled away, and his chest after that.

He looked at you as he lit the end and took a heavy drag, and found you staring right back, absolutely smitten.

"I think I love you," you whispered.

"Oh, princess," he sighed, exhaling smoke through his nose, "I know I love you. Have for a while. Now there's no takebacks."

The two of you laughed together. The sun had gone down by the time the pair of you made it back to where you'd parked. It was almost midnight by the time you actually got back to Eddie's trailer, and it was late afternoon when you finally departed for your own home, in love and beyond exhausted, but happy.

#my writing #ns//fw #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #this was fun to write i love eddie a normal amount #i havent been this feral for a character since stiles stilinski

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