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steddie-as-they-come · 6 months

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Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

#based on the running joke between me and my roommate that my robotics kids are gonna break into my dorm room #one of them just got his license and im now even more worried #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #college au #pre relationship

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evan-collins90 · 2 months

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Farallon restaurant - 450 Post Street, San Francisco, CA (opened June 1997 - closed 2020)

"Farallon is named after a fishing island off the Pacific coast.

The underwater fantasy theme drives the $4 million restaurant. The electric atmosphere grabs customers the minute they walk through the glass doors framed by a brushed steel and Lucite canopy, which vaguely looks like a scallop shell. Giant jellyfish chandeliers hang from the high ceiling. The walls are textured with shellfish impressions, and lighted yellow pillars that climb the walls are imprinted with seaweed. And that's just the bar.

The big main dining room is more elegant, but maintains the marine motif. Tiny tiles form mosaics on the ceiling, where two huge light fixtures are formed into seashells. Even the hood over the kitchen carries out the theme: It's covered in copper scales. And suspended over the counter are beautiful blown-glass lights shaped like fish.

A gracefully curving staircase leading to the mezzanine is covered in 50,000 blue-black glass beads that resemble magnified caviar, while the wall sconces replicate stands of coral and barnacles."

Excellent examples of the 'Org-Nouveau' style popular in the 1990's

Scanned from American Theme Restaurants by I.M. Tao (1999) and the February 1998 issue of Interiors Magazine

#90s #design #interiors #architecture #interior design #1990s #colorful #organic #art nouveau #undersea #fish #san francisco #farallon #my scans

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moonmunson · 7 months

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electric touch - eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.

warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child

When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update.

There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters.

He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn’t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting.

Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that.

For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.

He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again.

Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud.

Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth.

Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.”

The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to.

You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake.

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I-”

There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.

It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller.

As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner.

“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”

“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”

Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short.

“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”

“Stuck with you?”

“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?”

“Absolutely,” you nod.

“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.”

“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.

“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”

“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”

“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”

“Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet.

“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.”

Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him.

“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.

“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you.

You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer.

“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”

“I get to see the King’s quarters?”

“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”

“Lead the way then, dungeon master.”

He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched.

“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs.

“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”

“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark.

“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.

“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”

“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.”

“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.”

“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable.

“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”

“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed.

“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.”

Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath -

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.”

“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet.

“Yeah, Eddie. Really.”

His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times.

That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts.

“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey.

“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”

You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours.

“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson my beloved #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Omg yes please give us perv!eddie he’s not Jonathan ffs

yo are you KIDDING ME jonathan is such a FUCKING CREEP taking pictures of the girl he has a crush on having sex thru her bedroom window like please sir go to PRISON that is where you BELONG

i'm gonna get self indulgent again. honestly just expect it from me.

18+ minors go play roblox

perv!eddie is such a babe. he is so gross. has so many intrusive thoughts. not a decent thing happens inside that pretty little head of his. he babey <3

the thing that makes his perversion so weirdly charming is that he just feels so guilty about it. like it's okay to have fantasies. sex is fun for sane, consenting adults.

but this poor man feels so bad because he can't stop thinking about how much he wants to fuck.

he has an insane collection of porn. he's got magazines, erotic novels, dirty videos, each one more depraved than the last. he researches sex positions for fun. he writes erotic poems (most of them are about you). he has an extensive list of songs he wants to get down and dirty to, many of the entries scribbled out and reordered. he's put a lot of thought into it.

and his toys? he has so many. cock rings. ball spreaders. fleshlights. vibrators. stimulating lube. lube in different flavors. you name it, he probably has it. this man loves to make himself cum.

big pillow humper. he'll grip and bite his pillow and fuck it hard, talking to it like it's the one girl he wants to be with most (you know who. steve lmao.)

he's definitely tried to suck his own dick before. not successfully, but he had to make an attempt. for science.

but he doesn't want to just blindly fuck anyone. no, he's too insecure for that. and how much fun can you really have with a stranger? he wants to fuck someone he knows and trusts, who'll care enough to get him off and who he wants to see get off, too.

you. he wants to fuck you.

you live rent free in his head. not only are you the prettiest thing he's ever seen, but you're smart, and you're funny, and god he wants to hear what kinds of sweet little noises you'd make with his mouth pressed to your clit.

and that makes it very hard to be such close friends with you.

every little thing you do makes him want you. when you wear a low cut shirt, he can't stop himself from peeking at the dip of your cleavage. when you bend over, all he can think about is how amazing your ass would look and feel pushed up against his dick. when you wear shorts or a skirt, he just wants to slip his hand between your thighs. and don't even mention watching you eat - anything you put in your mouth conjures images of your lips wrapped around his cock.

touches of any kind drive him crazy. when he hugs you, he can feel your breasts, the curve of your waist, how good they feel. he's squeezed your love handles a little bit before, saving the memory of the sensation so he can imagine gripping them as he pounds you into his mattress. he "accidentally" brushes his arms and hands against your chest any chance he gets. he tenses up whenever you put your hand on his shoulder, or grab his arm, his entire body fizzing with electricity because you're touching him. that one time you kissed him on the cheek? best day of his goddamn life.

oh, and the one time you guys went to the beach with a group of friends? and he caught a little glimpse of your pubic hair under the line of your swimsuit? and your naked side brushed up against his naked side? he came so hard thinking about it later that night that it was like a religious experience.

he's a bathroom masturbator. when you hang out together, he disappears at least once to go rub one out, his cock straining painfully against his jeans because all he can think about is what you probably look like naked. how your nipple would feel between his teeth. how your pussy would feel around his fingers.

and listen. you and eddie are tighter than one of his cock rings (you know about his cock rings for heck's sake. gareth and jeff don't even know about them, and you've seen those men do tradesies of different issues of playboy with each other). you know he's depraved and totally disgusting but. you can't help but find it.

so cute?

like he gets all blushy when something turns him on, and he can't make eye contact with you, and he goes into Ultra Chivalry mode to try and make up for it. he really is just the sweetest guy in the world, if also the most painfully horny guy in the world.

but he's also your best friend. you bonded over pulling each other's strings and being generally annoying and irksome to each other.

so do you take it easy on him?

lmao no. teasing him is too easy and way too much fun. you're not mean about it, though.

once when you were in his room you caught a glimpse of one of his porno mags, how the woman on the cover wore a velvet choker and nothing else, how the page was pretty crinkled with... use.

the next time you hung out you wore a velvet choker, and styled your hair a little bit like hers. when you got in the front seat of his van he just stared at you for a moment, eyes bugging out of his head, cock straining against his zipper. when you bit your lip and giggled at him he thought he was gonna cream right then and there.

you also love dropping hints about your kinks to him and calling him little nicknames that'll get him going. "hot stuff" is a winner, as is "big boy". you risked calling him "daddy" once and you thought he was gonna combust. one time he was helping you fix the collar of your blouse and he pulled the ties at the neck a little to tight; he apologized immediately and profusely, but you just shrugged and said "it's cool, i like being choked"

the fantasies he had about you that night.

because gareth and jeff still see you as just one of the guys, you're often invited to their kickbacks in one of their basements. of course eddie is there, and of course there's beer, always. you have a few too many at one of these hangs and, when the conversation between the three virgins switches to condoms, you chime in.

"i just think it wouldn't feel good," jeff says

"gonorrhea doesn't feel good either, man," gareth giggles (he's stoned off his ass on the good weed eddie brought over)

"yeah, and condoms can be really sexy," eddie adds. he's about to quote something from his literature when you speak up.

"they can," you agree. "i know how to put a condom on with my mouth."

the room goes dead fucking silent, all of them staring at you like you just admitted to hosting orgies with the local recreational softball league every weekend.

"what?" you laugh. "it's not hard."

"yeah but now eddie is"

that was when he decided he needed to man up and ask you out. you gave him a demonstration of your little trick not long after. he refuses to put a condom on himself now that he's seen you do it.

as a boyfriend eddie's still a little perv. he's just got all his perv energy focused on you, and he doesn't have to hide it anymore.

he's very handsy. he's respectful of your comfort level with pda, because at the end of the day he loves you and wants you to be comfortable, but that doesn't mean he always keeps his hands to himself - he just puts them where no one can see them.

you're at the movies? he's got his arm around your shoulders and his hand down your shirt, cupping your breast. grabbing a bite with friends? his hand is between your legs, squeezing your upper thigh at a dangerous height. in an empty aisle at the local bookstore? he's pulling you in so he can suck on your neck, hands planted firmly on your ass cheeks.

when you kiss him goodbye on nights you're not spending together, he usually goes back to his van and immediately jerks himself off to the thought of you. when you do spend nights together, he likes to undress you as soon as you're through the door, sometimes even before. if you're wearing a skirt, that's a challenge for eddie - he's trying to sneakily get your panties off under it the entire way back to whoever's place you've decided on.

speaking of panties.

he's a little thief. and he's not even discreet about it.

you stay over at his place? your panties will most certainly go missing at some point, only to reappear a week or two later. he comes over to yours? he's opening up your drawers, looting through undergarments, pointing out his favorite bras and pocketing his favorite undies.

"why are you so gross?" you ask him once, teasing.

"gross?" he gasps. "i miss you so much when you're gone that i've gotta have a little piece of you with me, and you call me gross?"

he's not even lying when he says that. having a piece of you is just part of it for him. he loves you, even if it is in kind of a weird way.

one of his favorite dates is going to sex shops with you. he loves picking things out for you - lingerie, restraints, gags, toys, he wants to try it all with you. his favorite thing he's ever bought you is an o ring gag (paired with some numbing throat spray). his favorite thing you've ever bought him is a vibrating cock ring with an attached clit stimulator. that gets used a lot.

he's also made it kind of a hobby of yours to read erotica to each other. you'll alternate picking books - he reads the ones you pick, and you read the ones he picks. you actually tend to get side tracked talking about plot points and character arcs. but eddie is pretty proud of himself for being able to finger you and read aloud without losing his place or missing a beat.

now let's talk photos.

if we're sticking to canon, he uses your polaroid camera more than you do. he loves taking nudes of you, with you, and has multiple shots of what you look like from his point of view during sex pinned up on his wall (and in his wallet, and in his van, and in his work locker, and...). he also likes to slip naughty photos of himself to you, slotting them in beside your bookmarks and under the windshield wipers on your car.

if we're going for a more modern twist, oh my god this guy loves making you his personal cam girl (and being yours). the lockscreen on his phone is a post-sex picture of you, all fucked out and beautiful curled up next to him. he sends you teasing pictures throughout the day, broken up by a few cumshots and masturbation videos. he loses all sense of reason when you do the same to him, even going to the extent of faking an illness so he could get out of work and meet up to fuck in the parking lot of your own workplace. not a fan of cyber sex, though. he likes being able to touch you.

and on that note, he habitually fucks you in public. you've lost count of how many bathroom stalls you've left used condoms in.

he showers with you often, but strangely enough, you've never had shower sex. he likes the intimacy of it, holding you close and kissing your shoulders and just feeling like you're the only two people on earth. if you're showering, he'll slip in with you without a word and just hug you, especially if he's had a rough day.

when it all comes down to it, eddie loves you. he may be depraved and hornier than any other man you've met, but he would never do anything that makes you uncomfortable or crosses a line.

he's lucky you're a dirty little freak like him.

#eddie munson #eddie asks #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut

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pynkgothicka · 10 months

Text

ＤＥＡＴＨＪＪＫ

Synopsis - After your husband passes, your therapist gives you a new opportunity to be with him. (Part one of The Monster Series.)

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Android! Jeon Jungkook x Widower! Fem! Reader

Featuring - Steven Yuen

Tags and Warnings - Violence, Death, Yelling

Authors Note - One down 5 more to go

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“Ma'am, he's not coming back.”

You stared in shock at the body on the side of the road. Your husband was laying dead a bullet wound in his chest and you couldn't do anything about it.

“Kook…. No…. Kook….”

The cop there had to physically drag you away. You crying and sobbing as you watched him get dragged away.

But that was a long time ago.

Sitting down in your therapists office had you in a daze, your mind on a constant loop of that night. Hands covering your tear stained eyes. “Miss Jeon, his death was over a year ago. Yet you can't seem to get past it. Why is that?” Your therapist commented as she sat in the chair in front of you.

“I miss him, he was my life. Jeon Jungkook was my everything.” You said looking down at your lap. “I sit in the house he saved up to buy for us and I'm just surrounded by him.”

“He was taken when you needed him most…”

“You know this… Why are you asking me this?” You say looking at her with a aggravated look on your face.

Your therapist let out a sigh before reaching into her desk. He then handed you a card. On the front read DEATH.

Deceased

Electric

Android

Therapeutic

Humanoid

“Take it. You need it. Call the number on the back and they'll set everything up.”

🤖

That's what led you to sitting in a random office. You came about 30 minutes before after setting up a appointment.

The entire building had this futuristic build to it. Every light had a light neon blue glow to them. And almost everything was automated through technology. Outside the large glass window and saw all sorts of people with androids in general. It was kind of creepy yet sad knowing what the company was for.

“Hello Mrs. Jeon. I heard about your situation.” You were pulled out of your gaze as a man in a sleek white lab coat walked in. His name tag read, Lead Scientist Mr. Yuen. “It's quiet, sad really. Having your husband taken from you at such a crucial part of the relationship.” He walked to sit behind the desk in front of you.

“Yes, so… what exactly do you guys do?” You ask trying to pull away from the topic of your husbands demise.

“Well,” He pulls out a hard drive, written on the front in sharpie the letters JJK. “This is your husband's entire consciousness. We'd gotten access to your husband's brain. Your lucky he was a organ donor.”

You could feel tears prick your eyes. Your husband was right there.

He was so close.

“We take this and put it into a android. That android is as close to a human as we could get it. Even the skin feels realistic. Height, weight, even a replica of all that junk down there. Practically a one to one ratio.” Mr. Yuen chuckles. “And this will cost nothing as our company is pretty new. We really just need people to say what we offer works.”

You were desperate. You do care anymore, it was something. You nodded as Mr Yuen smiled and placed a stack of paperwork in front of you. “He'll be ready for you in a few hours.”

🤖

You sat in a lounge area waiting patiently. You looked mindlessly through a magazine, trying to be as level headed as possible.

“Mrs Jeon!”

Your head shot up at the sound of your name being called. It took you a bit to stand up but when you did you were in shock.

There he stood.

The love of your life.

Jeon Jungkook.

“Baby?”

His voice sounded exactly the same. It was him. Your mind was clouded at being reunited with him, and all you could do was cry and run towards him. You hugged him, and you could feel him hug you back. His strength showed as he nearly crushed you.

“Okay okay you have to let go!” You said giggling. Jungkook did, him looking at you with nothing but love and adoration. You looked at the side of his forehead seeing a blue ring of light.

It reminded you of what this actually was. And how this wasn't actually him…

“It doesn't have to be there…” Jungkook said looking at your eyes on the led light. You watched in bewilderment as his skin tone covered the blue circular ring. “Is that better?”

You nod mindlessly as you take Jungkooks cheeks in your hands to kiss him.

It was quick but needed.

Even his lips were just as soft as Jungkooks.

Mr. Yuen stood off to the side and when he felt it was needed walked up to you to shake your hand.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you Mrs Jeon. If you have any issues please do call.”

🤖

Things started to go wrong almost a week into bringing him home. You were seated on the couch with him, going through a old photo album. You were pointing out memories the both of you had, trying to see if he had the memories of your lost love.

And he was struggling.

“Kook, baby… you don't remember this?” You said pointing towards your first date. He'd taken you to go to a book store. But He just stared at it trying to process what he saw but he just couldn't.

“I'm sorry. I can't… I don't remember.” Jungkook said putting his head into his hands. “I-I’m so sorry.” It sounded as if he was crying, which was something you didn't even know he could do. Then again he is supposed to be the closest thing to a human.

With a shakey hand you patted his back trying to comfort him. Then your wrapped your arms around him, kissing the side of his face. “It's okay. Trust me we'll get through this one step at a time. I should be apologizing, I tried forcing way too much onto you.” You say kissing the top of his head once again.

“I don't get it… I don't fucking get it.” He growled the grip on his head getting harsher. He then reeled his head back and slammed it into the coffee table. You quickly grab his shoulders to pull him back.

“Kook! Kook! Stop!” You yelled as he struggled against you, trying to punish himself. He then seemingly stopped, artificial tears cascading down his face.

“What happened…?” He asked looking at you with those same soft eyes you fell for.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

🤖

You spend about a month with your new android husband, his mood changes still existing. But you looked past them, and instead just tried to work with him.

Like now you two were on a date and Jungkook was a gentleman and his usual playful self.

“Honestly I like eating. It's something about all those textures in your mouth that just make the experience!” Jungkook stated describing eating as if it was the best thing in the world. But all you could do was laugh at his antics. You wish you had that much joy for living.

Jungkook stared at you dumbfounded. “What's so funny?” He said beginning to laugh with you.

“Your just, so amused by seemingly little things. It's kind of funny.” You reply smiling. This was almost reminiscent of how you and your actual husband were. That was until the waiter cam around for about the 5th time that night. Jungkook would get more angry by the minute anytime he was around. Like now, as Jungkook stopped laughing and side eyed the waiter as he passed the drinks. As soon as he left you spoke up, “Kook, baby you have to calm down.”

“I'm calm. He just needs to leave us alone.” He seethes under his breath.

Then the waiter returns.

And Jungkook shoots up, grabs his arm and begins to yell at him. “Leave us the fuck alone!” People gasp as the waiter groans out. “Man you're bruising me!” The waiter says trying to prey Jungkook off. You get up and grab his shoulder.

“Let go! Let go now!” You yell and Jungkook almost immediately retracts his grasp. Your left embarrassed, and finally state that this is the last straw as you leave in a hurry.

🤖

“Hi I was told to call this number if I something was wrong with my product.” You stood outside on the porch of your house.

“Ma'am. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do.” The receptionist replies. Your face furrows as you raise your voice.

“What? There's obviously something wrong, my husband has never acted this way. I need to talk Dr Yuen. Please!” You practically begged.

“Ma'am. DEATH company has ceased to exist. Too many bugs, and you seem to have one. I say either get rid of the product or live with it. Good day.” Then the phone hangs up.

The first option was out of the question.

You couldn't see him die again.

But you didn't know how much longer you could live with the android. His mood swings become more and more drastic every day.

With a heavy head and heart you walked back in, bumping into Jungkooks hard chest.

“You think something is wrong with me.” He said solemnly.

“Kook baby, no… you're just… I think….” You couldn't even muster up a excuse for him. “It's just that… your not… my husband…”

You tried to walk past him but he moved in your way. “I'm not? Then why do I have all these thoughts? Why do I consistently feel plagued by him?” He spat at you. You moved to one side and quickly went the other way around him. “My mind is filled with you! His thoughts about you … I'm him!”

“Calm down… Please! I'm- I didn't mean what I said!” You beg putting your hands up as a act of defense. Jungkook seethed grabbing at his hair. He moved it forcibly.

“Is it this?” He yelled showing the led ring on the side of his skull. “Is it the fact that your “husband” wasn't a robotic freak!” You quickly love your footing falling onto the carpet. You felt a sharp pain in your arm as your forced to drag yourself away.

In fear, you watched as Jungkook took to a nearby mirror throwing it to the ground. You screamed as glass shot near him everywhere. He picked up a sizeable piece and took it to the side of his head. “I can change… I will change…” He then began to cut at the piece, all the while stepping towards you. He yanked it out throwing the circle to the side.

Jungkook now stood over you.

“Am I like him now? Am I your perfect husband….” He taunted. You shake your head no as you cried beneath his form. He just smiled. “Your lying… and in denial. Look at that arm… you broke it. All because you tried to get away from me.”

“Your…. you're not my husband. Your a monster.” You said with finality. The pain in your arm made your vision spotty.

“No baby… I'm your love. And I'm not leaving anytime soon.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63

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bitterpotionn · 8 months

Text

Johnny Slaughter - Streetlights

This is a bit different than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoy it. Another long one, I can't help myself. Title is a WIP, let me know if you have any ideas.

As always any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!

Warnings: Dub-con, sex work, Johnny is obsessive/stalkerish, misogynistic language, Johnny shames reader, virgin Johnny, kidnapping, unsafe sex, throat grabbing

Her heels clicked as she made her way down the cracked street. Dim streetlights attempted to light the way, although they didn't do much. The air was unusually chilly, especially for a Texas night. She stopped underneath one of the streetlights. She started at her shadow as she pulled out a cigarette. Tonight was a long night. Endless customers. Her head hurt, all she wanted was to go home and sleep it off. Only two more blocks until she was home.

A loud engine broke the steady silence. A white truck made its way down the empty street, slowing down as it spotted her. Pulling up beside her, the window rolled down.

Her heart felt heavy, she was tired and sick of working tonight. She hoped he would just move on. He didn't.

"Hey darlin'" his voice was smooth. She squinted to get a better look at him. He was young, maybe a little younger than her. His hair was longer, framing his sharp features. His grin wide.

She leaned onto his rolled-down window and gave him a weak smile. "Hey doll, you lookin' for some company?" her rehearsed line, she can't even remember how many times she's said that line tonight. Her cigarette burned, neglected in her hand as she spoke to the man.

He chuckled a bit and nodded. "Get in" he said simply leaning back in the seat. Her eyes shifted down to his crotch, his erection very visible. She stood up fully, taking one long drag of her now-wasted cigarette, before stomping it out on the ground. She made her way to the passenger side door and got in. Not looking back once.

He stared at her the whole time. His eyes almost bulged as he licked his lips. He stared at her thighs as she sat next to him. She broke him out of his trance, "So hun, where did you wanna go?" He quickly looked up into her eyes. "Uh...right." He swallowed hard as he shifted into gear. "I know a place"

As they drove slightly out of town she stared out the window, making a mental note of every turn, just incase. The ride was relatively silent, she could hear his deep breaths beside her. She noted how nervous he seemed, his hands fidgeting slightly on the steering wheel.

After about a 10-minute drive he pulled up to some barn on the slight outskirts of town. Her heart started to race. "Is this your family's property?" she asked looking over at him. He gave a sheepish grin, "Yeah, figured it was more...uh private" with that, he got out of the car, rushing over to open the door for her.

She hopped out and looked around. It wasn't too out of town. She's been to much weirder places with a customer. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile, urging him to lead the way.

He made his way to the barn, opening the barn doors, revealing a realtively tidy area. The dirt flooring was covered with hay. There were some lights that hung from the ceiling, she was shocked it even had electricity. He led her near the back, a lantern and blanket were laid out, along with some sleazy porn magazines. "You come here a lot I take it?" she asked scanning the area. "Yeah sometimes..." his words trailed off.

She turned to him and smiled, pulling him toward her by his belt. She was eager to get this over with so she could go home, she wasn't completely dreading it. He was definitely an upgrade from some of her regulars of tonight.

He fidgeted a bit as she did this, his hands awkwardly gripping at her sides. She looked up at him and led him down on the blanket. She laid on her back as he hovered over her. His breathing picked up at his stared at her, his eyes wide.

She frowned a bit and helped him with his pants, revealing his cock. She shimmed out of her skirt and spread her legs a bit, looking up at him. She was waiting for him to just take the initiative but he didn't. He was just awkwardly staring at her, his cock in his hand.

She let out a small hum. "How about we do this?" she flipped around and laid him on his back, so she was on top. She gave him a small smile, noticing his nervous eyes. "Are you okay hun?" she asked rubbing his shoulders.

He shrugged slightly "Yeah" he looked up at her. "I...I haven't done anything like this..." he said his voice slightly quiet. His eyes shifting every which way to avoid her gaze.

It suddenly all made sense to her now. Sure, she's had her fair share of inexperienced clients but never a virgin. She felt a small thud in her heart. "Honey we don't have to do this if you're not comfortable I-" his voice interrupted her "No! I want to" he sat up and grabbed at her hips pulling her close to him. "C'mon..." he was eager, almost like he wanted to just get the whole virginity thing over with.

Her eyes widened at his sudden movement but she just nodded. She took ahold of his cock, giving it a couple of pumps. She reached over and grabbed a condom from her jacket pocket, sliding it down on him. His eyes shifted as she did this, letting out a low groan at the contact. His legs shook.

She looked up at him, giving him a reassuring smile as she slowly sank down on his cock. He groaned out loudly and held onto her waist tightly, his eyes squeezing shut. Her mind went blank as she went through the motions. She kept steady by gripping his shoulders as she bounced up and down on him. He was panting and letting out small groans as she worked him.

It didn't take long before he had a death grip on her waist, thrusting up into her. His thrusts became jagged as he let out a final moan, finishing inside the condom. He didn't last long and she was slightly thankful for that. She got off of him and smiled at him. He was still trying to catch his breath as he stared at her, sweat beading on his forehead.

After a bit, he started to get dressed again, and she did as well. They made their way back to his car as he drove her back to where he picked her up. They didn't talk much during the ride. Once he parked he opened his wallet and handed her a 50 dollar bill. She gave him one last smile before going back to her rehearsed lines "I hope I see you again soon, honey" she got out of his truck and walked down the sidewalk. He stalled a bit, watching her before taking off.

Weeks passed and Johnny became a regular for her. She didn't mind it much, he was usually a pretty quick and easy client to deal with. However, she noted how with each visit he became more and more sure of himself, but that was expected. After all, he was gaining more experience with her. It makes sense he would become more natural with it. He was honestly a refreshing addition to her usual client list and he wasn't hard on the eyes. He was quick and didn't stick around to talk much. But tonight was different.

She gave him her number after a few visits. It made it easier to meet up with regulars. She was at her house, painting her nails when she heard the phone ring. She got up and walked up to her analog phone, sitting on her kitchen counter. She picked it up, "Hello?"

"When can I see you" Johnny's voice was quick and eager. "Well hello to you too" she laughed a bit, leaning on her counter. "I'm free tom-" his voice cut her off "No I need to see you tonight"

Her eyes widened at this, he never sounded so eager before. Sure he was a regular and saw her at least twice a week but he was always relatively cool and collected. "I...I don't know Johnny it's late and I-"

"I can give you extra" he said, cutting her off once again. She let out a sigh and rubbed her temple in annoyance. A little extra would be nice, it would mean she wouldn't have to work this weekend. "Oh alright...I'll meet you at our spot okay?" she said biting down on her lip. "Okay I'll see ya there" he hung up.

She let out another sigh and laid her head back. This shouldn't take long, it never did with him. So she walked into her bedroom and began getting ready.

A chilly breeze hit her as she stepped outside her apartment. She shivered a bit and pulled her jacket snugly, trying to savor the warmth of the furry interior. Just when she was about to begin walking the two blocks to their meeting spot, she heard the familiar roar of his truck. She didn't have much time to react before he pulled up beside her, rolling the window down.

She quickly walked up to his truck, her eyes wide. "Johnny...how do you know where I live?" she asked her voice laced with confusion and concern. "Don't get upset darlin', I saw you walkin' in one day...I just figured I could save you the walk time" he gave her a toothy grin.

She stared at him for a bit, analyzing his words. Was he lying? No, why would he? It makes sense he would've seen her enter her home at least once, it was a fairly small town. With some hesitation laced in her voice she responded, "Okay" she walked over to the passenger side door and got in, looking over at him.

She noticed this difference in him. It was hard to describe but she could just feel something was...different. He was giving her the same stare and smirk that he always gave her but this time it was, almost colder. Like something sucked the warmth right out of him.

He started the car and made his way to their usual spot in the barn. She stared out the window and tried to place the difference in him. His posture? His voice? His tone? Her thoughts were racing 100 miles per hour when the passenger door opened, revealing Johnny waiting for her. She must have been so lost in thought she didn't even notice the truck stopping.

She tried to clear her thoughts as she took his hand and followed him to their usual spot. She watched his walk, he was sauntering. It was bizarre. It was almost like he gained the confidence of a playboy in a matter of a week. She has seen him at his most nervous, hell she took his virginity, but she never saw him this sure of himself.

He stopped at the blanket and turned to her smirking. "I thought we could maybe try somethin' different" he said, his hands finding their way to her hips, swaying her a bit. "Oh yeah? Like what?" she asked looking up at him. "Ya know, like I take charge this time"

She paused for a second. Every time they've had sex so far, she was always on top. It was almost a routine for them since their first night together. It was a nice change of pace for her.

"If you're sure that's what you want, Johnny" she said simply, nervously fidgeting with her hands. He snickered a bit and laid her back onto the blanket. He stared at her for a second too long before pulling down her top, exposing her breasts. He palmed them, pinching and tugging at him.

She lay there, confused. He had touched her there before, of course, but this time it was almost like he was analyzing her. Exploring her in a way that surpassed just quick squeezes like in the past. Her eyes drifted up to meet his, only he was hyper-focused on exploring her body, every inch of it.

"Johnny...honey...can we get to it?" she said softly, trying to catch his eye. His eyes darted up to hers, narrowing ever so slightly. "I'm paying you, right? I can get started whenever I want" he snapped, his tone harsher than usual. "I mean, right" she said, staring at him in disbelief. He's never so much raised his voice at her before, now he's talking down to her. She didn't like this.

After a while of him poking, squeezing, and tugging at her. He decided to undress them both. He was gripping his cock in one hand lining himself up with her entrance. As he pushed into her he spoke up. "Have you ever watched somebody die?"

Her eyes widened at this. She was a bit overwhelmed with feelings, he just entered her and he was asking her that? Was that supposed to be a joke? She let out a nervous laugh as she stared up at him, "What?"

His right hand gripped her waist as he started thrusting steadily into her. "Have you?" he asked, a small groan quickly escaping his lips as his hips moved against hers. Was this his attempt at pillow talk? "No" she answered simply, her hand gripping the blanket beneath her, still adjusting to his thrusts.

His hand squeezed her waist and rubbed up and down her sides, his eyes locked onto hers. "I heard you're never quite the same after, do you think that's true?" his words were slow, paired with a toothy smile. His thrusts never once faltered.

"Johnny cut it out..." she mumbled, breaking eye contact, opting to stare at the ceiling behind him. She was very uncomfortable at this point, his increasingly heavy thrusts didn't help as she tried to focus on something else, desperate for him to just finish.

He didn't say anything after that, just releasing small groans and grunts as he came to the edge. Ultimately collapsing on her with heavy pants.

He lay there for a second and looked over at her wide eyes. He pulled out of her and cleaned himself up. "I was just messin' around" he said with an annoyed tone, like she was dumb for not realizing it sooner. She shakily stood up and nodded "I figured as much but honey you can't be jokin' around like that with people. Someone might take you serious..." her words trailed off as she gathered her belongings.

He let out a huff as he reached for her hand. "But you understand right? I can be myself with you?" He gave her a sheepish grin. She squeezed his hand once before pulling hers back "Of course you can" she said softly before turning to the door. "I really need to get back, it's late" He stared at her for a second before nodding. "Sure"

She standing outside a local grocery store. Reading the newspaper. "ANOTHER WOMAN MISSING; POLICE BAFFLED" her eyebrows furrowed as a chill went down her spine. These kinds of stories worried her, she didn't have the safest job and the police didn't care to help people like her. She made a mental note to cut back on how many times she went out to work.

She was reading intently when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped loudly and quickly turned around, only to be met with Johnny. She let out a sigh and placed her hand over her heart "Johnny you scared me half to death" she said taking a deep breath.

He chuckled "Sorry bout that...." he bit down on his lip as he stared at her. Since that night she was cautious around Johnny, she couldn't help but notice his increasingly frequent run-ins with her. He was always near, she always chopped it up to it being a small town, but she wasn’t so sure now: She let out an awkward laugh, placing the newspaper back on the stand. His eyes followed her hand and he let out a chuckle, reading the headline. "Gettin' mighty scary out here recently..." he leaned against the side of the building, watching her reaction.

She let out a strained smile and nodded "Sure is" her eyes shifted as she stood there, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation.

Before she could think of an excuse he spoke up, "Ya know I've been meanin' to ask you something for a while now" he placed a hand on her waist. "Why don't you let me take you out, like on a real date"

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him, this wasn't good. She tried to maintain a healthy separation with her clients and letting them take her out without pay was a big boundary cross. "Honey...I'm not sure that's a good idea..." her words were soft, she was trying to avoid upsetting him.

He didn't let her denial break his stride, "We've been seeing each other for a while now-" she interrupted him "You've been seeing me, Johnny..."

He went silent, his mouth forming a straight line as he stared at her. "Now you know that ain't true, you said it yourself, I can be myself around you. Give me a chance" he said reaching for her hand.

She winced a bit and frowned. "I don't know Johnny...this doesn't seem healthy..." He let out a groan and rolled his eyes. "That don't matter to me, c'mon, one date" he squeezed her hand.

She stared at him and gave a slight nod. "Okay...one date" He chuckled and leaned down, kissing her. She gave him a half-kiss back before pulling away. His hands rested on her waist, he swayed her every so slightly back and fourth. "You free now?" he asked grinning at her.

One date turned into many. Each date ended with him deep inside her. She didn't know why she continued to agree to the dates. He was so hard to reject. She didn't know if she felt bad or was just scared. This night was wrapping up the same way they always did, them sitting on her couch watching some channel on her TV. She sat rigidly in his lap, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, her legs laid across his.

After a while, he spoke up. "Are you still workin'?" he asked. The question made her turn to him, her eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah" she said simply, staring into his eyes, though he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were still fixed on the TV. "I don't want you doin' that...stuff...anymore" his voice was laced with disgust. "It's not right now that we are together" he finally turned to look at her.

"You say, stuff, as if that's not how we met" she snapped back, her eyes narrowing. "I need to make a livin' Johnny, I have bills to pay" she moved off of his lap, offended at what he just said to her.

"Then get a real job, not whoring yourself out to every man. You're mine" he growled out, pulling her back in his lap. She scoffed and pushed off of him. "Johnny cut that out! How can you say that, you came to me for months. Did you forget that?" she stood up and glared at him.

"That-that was different" he said, standing up to match her stance. "Oh yeah how? Johnny, you were a nervous virgin when you first came to me, now that you've had a drop of experience you think you can just own me?" she crossed her arms, she knew that she shouldn't have brought that up but she didn't care she was angry. His eyes widened in fury as he rushed up to her, grabbing her neck, and pushing her against the wall with a thud. "You think you're the only whore I've fucked hm?" he slammed her against the wall again "You just got me started darlin', you know those girls goin' missin'? Who do you think did that?"

She gasped in pain at this sudden force, wincing out with each slam to the wall. "Y-you're crazy!" she managed to shimmy from his grip and shuffled back away from him, her eyes wide in terror.

He turned to her and slowly walked after her. "C'mon don't make this difficult baby" he tried to grab her. She hit his hands away "Johnny please just leave...I-I won't tell anyone" he laughed at this "You think the cops would believe you?" he reached out and grabbed her arm shoving her down on the ground. He kneeled down and got on top of her pinning her down. Despite her kicking and struggling he was able to overpower her.

"Now you listen to me, slut" he hissed out, grabbing her face "I ain't gonna kill ya as long as you do what I say. I own you now. I don't care how much you beg or scream, it's no use. No cop is gonna believe a whore" he snarled at her shaking her face.

She let out a loud whimper as tears streamed down her face. "Why..." she tried to look away from him but he kept moving her face so she was staring directly at him. "I got better for you baby, I couldn't be a nervous little boy anymore, I had to show you how a man acts. I had to practice, those girls were just practice but I think I'm finally prepared for you, baby, this was all for you"

He stroked her hair and stared at her. "You're gonna come back with me, alright?" he said kissing down her neck. She whined and tried to shake him off. "C'mon don't be like that...you'll fit in just fine" he nuzzled at her neck and grinned at her.

The long days were the hardest part when she got to Johnny's place. He lived on this farm with his family but had his own small camper on the outskirts. He explained to her that he bought it so they would have more privacy...how thoughtful of him.

She sat at the booth table inside of the camper, staring out the window at the fields of sunflowers. Johnny was out, she didn't bother to ask where he was going. She could sometimes hear the blood-curdling screams from the house, she put the pieces together. She hadn't met any of his family, he didn't want them to know about her. She felt so trapped, her entire world was Johnny. He was usually always around her, she would only get a few hours a day to herself. She didn't have anything to do, she would normally just stare out the window to pass the time, thinking about what she could've done differently. She can’t even remember how long she’s been there. A couple days? Weeks? Months? Time passed at a painful pace here, she didn’t even know what day it was.

The sun was setting over the horizon. Streaks of red, orange and pink lined the sky, like paintbrush strokes. He has been gone most of the day, she found herself getting worried. He wouldn't just leave her here to rot right? He always had the door locked but maybe she could break a window-

The sound of keys jingling interrupted her thoughts. She turned to the door and watched Johnny enter, clearly agitated. He slammed the door shut and angrily kicked his boots off. She just stared at him, her eyes wide. He turned to her and gave her a look "What?" he snapped.

She quickly shook her head and looked back out the window. She heard his rustling around before he squeezed in beside her, putting a heavy arm around her shoulders. He leaned her into his chest and sighed, petting her hair. She felt like a dog.

She stared straight ahead as he stroked her hair. He smelled like grass, sweat and cigarettes. She decided to break the silence "Are you feeling okay?" she asked softly, being sure to place her hand on his chest, stroking absentmindly. He sure had her trained like a dog at this point. He grunted and shrugged "Those kids are a pain in my ass" he mumbled, assumingly referring to their victims. She just nodded in response. "But not you darlin', you've been a good girl" he kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter.

His hands wandered like they always did. Squeezing at her thigh as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Whenever he got home he was always all over her, it was worse the days he came home upset, like he wanted to take his frustrations out on her. His hand slipped under her loose pajama shorts and palmed at her clit through her underwear. Letting out a small whine, she gripped his forearm.

He chuckled and glanced outside, the sun was nearly set at this point. The loud chirp of the crickets could be faintly heard. He suddenly stood up and pulled her up alongside him. "I bet you're feelin' all cooped up huh?" he snickered, taking a firm grip on her hand. "Why don't we go outside and watch the sunset?" he didn't give her time to reply as he led her outside, grabbing a blanket before they exited.

The warm air hit her in the face. She took a deep breath in as she closed her eyes. She always cherished the moments she could have outside. Though when she was outside, Johnny was not too far behind. She didn't have much time to enjoy the air before Johnny pulled her closer to the sunflower field, laying out the blanket. She knew what this meant, his chivalry was a facade.

He sat down on the blanket, his legs spread out. He patted his lap. She obediently sat down between his legs, leaning her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I missed ya today..." he said staring straight ahead at the sunset. His hands wandered down to the front of her pants, he used one hand to yank them down, exposing her fully. He rubbed at her clit. She let out a small whine and squeezed her eyes shut. He didn't waste much time until he slipped two fingers into her. Pumping them at a steady pace. "This is your reward, baby" he whispered in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

The "reward" was short-lived as he pulled his fingers out from her, instead opting to lay her on her back. He kissed up her chest and met her lips, kissing her deeply. After a while, his hands reached down to his belt, unbuckling it while staring at her intently. She opted instead to look directly up at the sky.

He sucked on her neck as he stroked his cock along her wet slit. "Why don't you beg for my cock, darlin'" he hummed out, grabbing her chin to force her to look at him. She whined a bit "Please Johnny...I've been a good girl..." her face heated up in embarrassment, after all he did to her, here she was begging for him.

He chuckled "You have been a good girl" he gripped her waist as he pushed into her. Her eyes widened as her back arched a bit off the ground. She always found it hard to adjust to his size, despite how many times they've had sex so far. He started thrusting at a steady space, dipping his head down to bite at her breast, giving her small hickeys all over, his way of marking her.

She moaned out at each thrust, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her eyes squeezing shut. He kissed up her neck, his eye flicking up to stare at her. “You’re driving me crazy, baby” he chuckled and moved his hand to grip her neck gently, his thumb stroking away the stray tears running down her face.

She moved her hands to hold onto his forearm. Her eyes brows furrowed as she felt the familiar warm sensation spread across her body. He groaned out “Fuck!” He thrusted harder into her, desperately chasing his high. “My good girl” his thrusts became jagged as he came deep inside of her, letting out a low moan.

She wasn’t too far behind, gripping his arm tightly as she came undone beneath him. She leaned her head back, panting as she stared at the now star-filled sky. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, pulling on both of their clothes. “C’mon baby, I’m hungry” he pulled her up and held her hand as they made their way back to the camper. She looked behind her once, she saw the faint glow of the family house in the distance.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm game #tcm #tcm game #bitterpotionnfics #johnny slaughter smut #johnny slaughter x reader #smut

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

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Shut Up and Drive Chapter 1

Roy Kent x F1 Driver! F! Reader

3.4k (!!!!!!!!!!!) words

Warnings: Language, smut smut smut, oral (F receiving), Roy Kent being very horny, also I know nothing about F1

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @agentstarkid. Part one of two (maybe three??? We'll see!). Still learning to write smut sooooooo not sure how good it is?? Honestly this was the horniest writing I have ever done in my life.

Series Masterlist

Roy knew who you were. He knew exactly who you were. Unbeknownst to everyone in his life, he often watched you race on television, he scrolled through tweets about you, he even pictured you sometimes when he was pleasuring himself in the shower.

He was pretty sure he had a racing suit fetish now, thanks to you.

But fuck, you were something to see in person. Especially in what was probably the shortest, tightest dress he’d ever seen. It was borderline indecent- well, the thoughts in his head sure were. Roy Kent felt like a fucking teenager, hoping he wouldn’t get a boner in front of his friends and the press at this stupid party Keeley’d promised would be fun.

Much to Roy’s embarrassment, Keeley tugged him along to say hello with her and Rebecca. The women gave you quick, warm hugs, but your eyes were on Roy, unabashedly running your gaze down his muscular figure with a coolly raised eyebrow.

“The woman of the hour,” Rebecca praised. “Win number six on Sunday, hmm?”

“We’ll see,” you murmured, smirk on your face, the same smirk Roy’d seen dozens of times on television. The same smirk he wanted to kiss right off your face. You tilted your head at him. “Roy Kent,” you greeted, shaking his strong hand. “Didn’t know you like racing.”

Roy gave a curt nod, squeezing your hand reluctantly before letting go, trying to forget the fantasies he’d had about your hands roaming his body. “A bit,” he admitted, much to Keeley and Rebecca’s surprise. “Been following you a lot this season, actually.”

The coy smile on your lips had his head reeling. “I’m honored.”

You’d caught Roy Kent staring at you several times throughout the evening, an intense, fiery gaze that had electricity coursing through your body. You were pretty sure he was imagining what you looked like out of this dress; you knew you were wondering what his fitted suit would look like on your hotel room floor.

You chatted a bit more with the Richmond group, feeling a surge of pride when Rebecca and Keeley mentioned their idea women’s team, teasing Rebecca about how she should invest in Formula 1 instead. Eventually, Keeley got distracted by a very needy Jamie Tartt, and Rebecca saw some old friend who was dying to talk about Ruper Mannion’s losing West Ham, which left you all alone with a broodingly gorgeous Roy Kent.

“I’m glad Keeley managed to get you all out here,” you hummed. “It’s a fun weekend.”

“How d’you know Keeley again?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Did a magazine shoot together. She was supposed to be hanging seductively off these different drivers, all hot in like a bikini thing while they were in their racing suits. But when it came to me, they weren’t going to include her. But Keels, cheeky thing, insisted on posing the exact same way she had with Daniel and Lando and the rest of them.” The wink you shot Roy was nothing short of erotic. “It was pretty hot. Fucking magazine editor didn’t have the guts to run it, though. Scared little twat.”

Roy wasn’t sure if it was your vulgar vocabulary or the image of you with Keeley in some sapphic pose giving him a hardon. Probably both. Or maybe it was the undeniable bedroom eyes you were shooting him as you sipped your drink through the little black cocktail straw, reminding him of the images he’d created in the shower last night.

“I love this hotel,” you mused, interrupting Roy’s filthy thoughts. “They’re quite lovely. Always make sure my favorite things are in my room when I arrive. Sweets, alcohol, that sort of thing.” You raised your glass. “Better than the stuff they’re serving here, actually.”

Doing his best to maintain the bored face he’d perfected long ago, Roy shrugged. “D’you mind sharing?”

He had to be imagining the way you licked your lipstick-stained lips. “I love sharing.” With a boldness that had Roy biting back a groan, you took his hand and guided him through the crowd until the two of you reached the lift; he was grateful for the other people that filled the small space, forcing you to stand close to him, letting him feel the heat radiating off your exposed skin.

You led him off the elevator and to your suite, no signs of awkwardness or bashfulness as you unlocked your door and gestured for him to enter. Roy had stayed at enough hotels to know that your suite was one of the nicer ones this place had to offer; unsurprising, especially with all the attention you were getting this weekend, what with your sixth win on the horizon.

“Scotch?” you offered, holding up the bottle that Roy knew cost almost as much as some people’s rent.

“Perfect.” Roy helped you find a couple of glasses and watched as you poured each drink generously. He wondered if the small brush of your fingers against his was on purpose as you handed him his glass.

You tapped your glass to his with a clink. “Cheers.”

Roy eyed you as he sipped, his mind racing like your car as it finally dawned on him that the two of you were alone in a hotel room with nothing but alcohol and his bad intentions. And you were peering at him like something to be devoured. Fuck.

“Have a seat,” you urged, plopping yourself down on the couch with ease, crossing your legs and causing your already short dress to ride up, displaying even more of your thigh- on purpose, Roy hoped.

He joined you, doing his best to ignore the slightly ajar door that he knew led to the bedroom.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, exposing the neck that Roy desperately wanted to mark up. “This is about the only time I’ll get to relax before Sunday,” you sighed.

“Is that your way of telling me to hurry the fuck up and finish my drink so you can be alone?” Roy joked, hoping he was wrong as he let his arm rest behind you on the couch.

“No.” You opened your bright eyes and tilted your head towards him, your lips curved upwards. “It’s my way of saying it’s nice to have some company.”

Before Roy could think of something clever to say, his mobile vibrated in his pocket. With a heaving sigh, he pulled it out and checked the incoming message: Did I see you get on the lift with one of the racers??? Fucking Jamie needed to mind his own damn business.

“That your girlfriend wondering where you’ve gone off to?” you teased.

Roy couldn’t help his eyeroll as he texted Jamie to Fuck off. “Just Jamie Tartt.”

“Boyfriend then?”

The snort that shot out of his mouth was pure reflex. “Watch it, or you’ll be finishing that bottle of scotch all on your own.”

You turned your body towards his, gazing up at him through thick lashes. “Oh no, we can’t have that.”

Roy felt less like Roy Kent, celebrity, professional footballer, dater of models and actresses, and more like a scared teenage boy hoping his first girlfriend would rub his prick through his jeans in a dark movie theatre. Unsure, embarrassed, hopeful, not a trace of confidence. He’d be annoyed at himself if he wasn’t so busy being turned on by you.

“Feel ready for Sunday?” He had to say something, literally anything, before he flat-out asked you for a shag.

A small huff passed your lips. “Mostly. Just trying to make myself relax.”

I could help with that, Roy thought devilishly, forcing himself to sip his drink so the words didn’t slip out. “How d’you usually relax before a race?”

Finally, you looked as tense as he felt. “You’ll need to get me a lot drunker before I tell you that, Roy Kent.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up, wondering if you were implying what he thought you were implying. “Oi, I’m getting you drunk? You’re the one who invited me up here, remember?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his razzing. “I know. So forward. My mother would be fucking horrified, me having a man in my hotel room.” Your eyes travelled down his body, not an ounce of shame on your face. “Especially one that looks like you.”

Well, any shred of doubt about your intentions was certainly beginning to disappear.

“I won’t fucking tell if you don’t,” Roy quipped, his own smirk finally forming.

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Dunno if I can trust you. How do I know you’re not going to call my mum and tell her that you were in my room at this indecent hour?”

His confidence was finally beginning to show its face. “Because then you’d call my mum to tell her I’m in your room at this indecent hour.” His eyes were practically glued to your smirk.

“Guess it’s our little secret then,” you purred.

“If I’m keeping this secret,” Roy began, eyebrows raised teasingly, “then maybe you can trust me with telling me how you relax before a race.”

You let out a scoffing laugh, one of the sexiest sounds Roy had ever heard. “Come on, Kent. You’re a big boy. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your light shove to his shoulder had him growing harder. “You probably do the same thing before a big match.”

Yep. You were implying what he thought you were implying.

His silence worried you for a moment. “Not scandalizing you, am I?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your bare thigh, watching your face carefully to make sure he was reading you correctly. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you hummed, leaning towards him.

He licked his lip and flattened his palm, covering your thigh with his rough hand. “All I can think about… is how good you’re going to taste.” His hand began traveling towards the high hem of your dress. “If you’d like help with relaxing, that is.”

You pretended that his words didn’t have your pussy pulsing. “What a gentleman,” you cooed, bringing one hand up to his bicep and giving a flirty squeeze. “I’d love some help.”

That touch and your words snapped something in Roy’s mind. He leaned forward and captured your mouth in a rough kiss, not bothering to play nice as his tongue pushed its way past your lips. His calloused fingertips dipped under your dress, squeezing the doughy flesh of your thigh, eliciting a soft groan from you.

“Don’t want to mess with your pre-race ritual,” he huffed as his lips travelled down your jaw.

You shook your head and gripped his curly hair. “That’s alright,” you muttered, craning your neck to grant him access to as much skin as possible. “Usually think about you anyways.”

He jerked his head back, eyes wide and full of wonder and lust. “Me?”

“You, Roy Kent,” you confirmed, amused by the sweet tone coming out of his already swollen lips. “What can I say? Football’s sexy.”

“Almost as sexy as racing.” With that, he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap; you swallowed a moan when his already considerable bulge rubbed against your clothed core.

Despite your effort to play cool, Roy knew the contact affected you. He pushed his hips up into you, savoring the groan you were unable to hold back this time. So, he jerked upwards again. And again. And again. He bounced you on his lap, getting more pleasure out of the clothed humping than any other hookup he’d ever had. Your head thrown back, eyes shut, bottom lip between your teeth- even with clothes on, you were Roy’s every fantasy come true.

But Roy Kent didn’t come to your room for a clothed fantasy.

“That dress’s been driving me mad all night,” he admitted, giving a particularly rough buck upwards. “Kind of fucked up of you to still be wearing it.”

That cocky smirk returned. “Better do something about it,” you challenged.

He reached behind your back and tugged at the zipper, roughly pulling it down. Between the two of you, he was able to remove the dress without letting you off his lap.

His hands slid down your figure, roughly gripping every inch of skin he could; you were a fucking dream, even more perfect than he’d let himself imagine. It almost hurt to look at you. It actually did kind of hurt, since his pants were painfully tight.

“Let me spoil you,” he huffed, his already firm grip on you tightening. “Let me make you feel really fucking good.”

You nodded, clearly desperate for anything Roy Kent would give you. “Bedroom.”

His arousal stronger than his shitty knees, Roy stood, holding you against himself as you wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles behind his back and planting sloppy kisses to his neck. He shouldered the door open and gently laid you on the bed, biting his lip as he gazed down at you, eyes already glassy and face flushed. How could someone he had such dirty thoughts about look so angelic?

He hovered over you and let his hand trail down your body at a painfully slow pace, cherishing your involuntary shiver. He began to tug at your strapless bra, looking at you playfully.

“The fuck are you doing still wearing this?” he hummed.

You sat up on your elbows and let him unhook your bra. You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes and giggling as he tossed it casually over his shoulder.

“Much better.”

Roy’s eyes widened as he let himself marvel at your breasts, groaning when he saw your nipples already beginning to swell. He raised his eyebrows at you, even more turned on when he saw the eager expression on your face. He kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his face to your chest, giving a kitten lick to your nipple. The sigh you let out encouraged him to begin his rough assault on your breasts: biting, licking, sucking. As he swirled your nipple with his tongue, you began bucking up towards him, desperate to feel that friction again.

“Is someone needy?” he teased, winking at you.

“Thought you wanted to help me relax,” you huffed, tangling your hands in his hair.

He removed his face from your breast, resting his chin between them; his soft expression clashed with the hardness you felt below his waist. “This isn’t relaxing?” he crooned.

You stroked the soft hair between your fingers. “I just need some attention somewhere else.” You took one of his hands in yours and guided it down your body towards your panties, a little lacy pair that had Roy melting when his fingers grazed the already soaking material.

Fuck. Roy’d never been with a woman so fucking direct with what she wanted. It was so damn sexy; if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up falling in love with you by the end of the night.

“Silly thing’s in my way,” he mumbled, tugging down the material. He sat up so he could slide them down your legs, his mouth following his hands and pressing kisses to your skin. With your panties out of the way, he gazed up at your core. “Fuck,” he breathed, for once feeling like his favorite word wasn’t strong enough.

He brought his face between your legs, mesmerized by the sight before him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he cooed, his hot breath making you squirm. He tore his gaze from your pussy to look into your eyes. “Let me have a taste.”

His voice was wrecked, begging. His eyes were wild with desire and hunger. You’d never seen a man look so desperate before; the sight had you spreading your legs for him.

“Always wanted to know what that dirty mouth of yours could do.”

In an instant, his mouth was on your sex, a moan immediately escaping him and vibrating against you. You threw your head back, one hand tangling in his hair while the other came up to grab your breast. You groped yourself, feeling like you’d float away if you didn’t grab tight to something.

Roy was relentless. His tongue flicked your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body with each rough stroke. His stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs; you knew the spot would be completely red in the morning, but right now the harsh scratching only added to your pleasure.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing your legs further apart to give himself deeper access. When his tongue moved away from your clit, you gave a high-pitched whine, not caring if you sounded needy. If anything, it only turned Roy on even more. Your whine turned to a moan when his tongue began lapping at your wetness, devouring you like you were his last meal.

The sounds that filled your hotel room were lewd. His moaning against your core, you beginning to chant his name desperately, and the obscene wet sounds of his tongue exploring your cunt. When his tongue dipped inside your warmth, you saw stars. He swirled his tongue, trying to reach as deep as he could, unable to believe that any part of his body was inside you.

He felt so fucking dirty, eating you out while keeping his own clothes on. He’d never done that before; normally, his clothes would be long gone by now. But, maybe for the first time ever, he didn’t give a shit about his own pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to worship at the altar of your hips, giving you everything he could and lapping up everything you offered him. Right now, in this hotel room, on this bed, Roy Kent existed for the sole purpose of chasing your high.

He was needy, desperate, rutting his hips into the mattress as his tongue continued to explore you. He returned to your throbbing clit and began sucking on it, spurred on by the way you roughly pulled his hair. Your back arched off the bed, as if you were possessed by Roy’s devilish tongue. You sure as hell felt like you were.

“You taste beautiful,” he groaned against your heat. “Want to fucking taste you forever.”

“I’d let you,” you managed to gasp, feeling like something in you was about ready to snap.

Roy chuckled darkly against your sex. “If you’re still talking in complete sentences, I’m not doing my fucking job.”

With that, he dove back in, his mouth brutal and merciless, almost mean in its attack on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He felt a surge of pride as your moans became more ragged, your tugs at his hair became erratic, and your legs began to squeeze the sides of his head.

“Fuck, Roy,” you cried, your eyes suddenly as wet as your core. “Gonna- gonna-”

You didn’t need to say it. Roy felt the throbbing of your clit, his cue to return to your cunt to lap up your juices; some perverse part of him wanted to bottle the stuff and drink nothing else for the rest of his life. Instead, he ravished you, not caring that your body began to writhe from the overstimulation; he wasn’t going to waste a single exquisite drop. Your vision went white, and you swore you were going to pass out. Fuck, if you died right now- which felt like a very real possibility- you weren’t sure where you’d go, because heaven was Roy Kent’s tongue.

Satisfied that he’d gotten every last bit that you’d dripped out, Roy lifted his head to look at you, his ragged breathing filling the now quiet room. His beard was soaked, practically dripping with your wetness. His wild eyes bore into yours as he crawled up your body, hands gripping the sheets as he hovered above you. Without a word, he captured your lips in a deep, fervid kiss, sharing your delicious taste with you.

Finally coming back down to earth, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, a teasing smile forming on your glistening lips. “How the fuck do you still have clothes on?” Roy had thought you moaning his name was his new favorite sound; instead, he now knew that it was your breathless, post-orgasm voice.

“Wanted to focus on you,” he answered, giving your nose a tender kiss.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Roy Kent. Absolute gentleman in bed. I’ll make sure to write that on the stall in the ladies’ room.” You ground your hips into his, relishing the knowledge that you were leaving a wet stain on his trousers. “Should we fix your clothing situation then?”

To your absolute shock, Roy shook his head. “This was for you to relax before the race, remember?” His tender expression gave way to a look you could only describe as sinful. “You can take my pants off after you win on Sunday.”

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x f1! reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #request ❤️

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mariiatrushartist · 1 day

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Creator of the flat "Earth" and the Apostle of the Cat God: the most interesting facts from the life of Terry Pratchett

Dreamed of becoming an astronomer

As a child, the boy was very interested in astronomy and stars in general. In adulthood, he not only did not lose interest in this topic, but also built an observatory in his garden.

The first story and a typewriter for earned money

Terry's first work was written when he was 13 years old, and a year later it was published in a school magazine called The Hades Business. On this story, the future writer earned £14 and used them to buy his first typewriter.

The first published novel

In 1971, when Terry was only 23 years old, the world saw his first novel The Carpet People. It is a comic fantasy novel about a tribe of tiny people living on the carpet. When the writer became more famous, he decided to rewrite it by adding an updated text, original black and white illustrations and an exclusive story written when he was 17 years old

From journalism to electricity production

After the Three Mile Island nuclear disaster in March 1979, Pratchett left journalism to become a press officer for four nuclear power plants at the Central Electricity Production Council.

He lost in popularity only J.K. Rowling

In 1996, the Times declared Pratchett a best-selling author in the UK. He sold 70 million books worldwide and was the second most read author in Britain, second only to the J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series.

The award he was most proud of

It may surprise you, but most of all Pratchett was proud of the Carnegie Medal, which was awarded to his children's book The Amazing Maurice and His Raised Rodents. He got it in 2002.

Illness

At the peak of popularity, Pratchett was diagnosed with a severe form of Alzheimer's disease, posterior cortical atrophy. He had gradual degeneration of the cortex, the outer layer of the brain, on the back of the head. The disease leads to difficulties in reading, estimating distance, using tools and spelling. However, the disease did not stop Pratchett's success: in addition to continuing to write, he also became a patron of Alzheimer's Research UK and actively supported fundraising efforts and advocated raising awareness of the disease.

Own sword

The writer has always had an eccentric personality and imagination. Now that he became a knight, Terry needed the right sword he made himself from meteoric iron. The writer found a field with iron deposits near his home in Wiltshire, he himself dug up ore – 81 kilograms. Then he smelted iron ore using a homemade clay and hay furnace. A local blacksmith killed Pratchett's handmade iron rods into a silver-trimmed sword.

The last book

Pratchett's Alzheimer's disease has progressed. However, despite brain atrophy, he still continued to produce books. A few months before his death in March 2015, he finished his last novel about Discworld. Many Pratchett fans keep the book unread on their shelves in his honour.

There were 10 unfinished novels on the hard drive of his computer at the time of his death, but we will never know what they are about. According to the writer's last desire, Pratchett's unfinished works were destroyed. The hard drive was not only broken with a steam roller, but also passed through the stone crusher.

#terry pratchett #terry pratchett day #sir terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #good omens #discworld #crowley #aziraphale #neil gaiman #gomens

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trandtalk · 2 years

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The ID.XTREME EV concept paves the way for compact electric off-roaders

While there are many reasons to get behind electric cars, one often overlooked aspect is their off-roading capabilities. Credit social media Over the years, we’ve slowly come to realize that you get the relentless torque of a battery-based car coupled with a beast; Low-end grunt to get you off low-traction surfaces. Hence, it is not surprising to see many car-makers working on the idea of…

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england-would-fall · 6 months

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He’d forgotten his pen. Yes, there were dozens in his office: in the letter tray, behind the lamp, scattered through every drawer and bin and chair cushion. It was an occupational hazard of living with a mad genius whose antidote to anxiety was color-coding.

Despite the plethora of writing implements, Henry was forced to sneak into the bedroom for his favorite pen—the pen his father had signed autographs with, signed his wedding agreement with, and had left Henry in his will. Henry wasn’t usually superstitious (Alex called him “a little stitious,” whatever that meant), but it was bad luck to sign contracts with anything else.

His bare feet on the hardwood floor weren’t enough to disturb Alex where he lay smiling in his sleep. Face pressed into a pillow, one tan leg hooked over the top of the duvet, and making a deliciously satisfied humming sound. Henry approached the foot of the bed, remembering the way Alex had looked as he left his room that first night.

Domesticity poisoned passion, he’d always been told, but this man…this witty, charming, endlessly kind man…did nothing but fan the flames of Henry’s want with each passing day. Dressing gown dropping to the floor, Henry stripped out of his clothes and climbed the length of Alex’s body.

“Darling,” he whispered, nose running along the side of his neck, “I need you.” He pressed his lips to a shoulder, a vertebra, a hip. His tongue paid worship to the dimples on Alex’s lower back, which still owed him a debt for all the years they’d been visible only in magazine pages and Henry’s dreams. He lifted his head as Alex rolled slowly onto his back. A soft grin spread across Alex’s face at the sight of Henry hovering above his thighs.

“Baby.”

Henry needed nothing further. They had danced this dance a hundred times, their steps now fluid and sure.

“I dreamt of you.” The back of Alex’s hand brushed Henry’s cheek, sending his eyelids fluttering closed against an onslaught of emotion. How could his chest compress beneath the weight of calm Alex instilled in him while simultaneously setting every ounce of blood in his veins aflame with desire? How could one man feel so deeply? How could another drive such feeling? It didn’t make sense, and so Henry turned to the one act always able to anchor his runaway mind: he looked Alex in the eye and swallowed him down.

A gasp rang out near the head of the bed, slicing open the early winter morning’s darkness. Alex’s hands sunk into Henry’s hair, the electricity coursing through his fingertips spurring him immediately to a furious pace. There were moments of endless tenderness between them; this was not one of them. Alex’s grip tightened and pulled in a gorgeous plea for control to which Henry easily yielded. He released the tension in his jaw, shifting his focus to the suction between his tongue and palette.

Dark moans tore themselves out of Alex’s throat as he thrust himself fiercely into Henry’s. Eyes watering at the rawness of Alex’s claim on his body and the intensity of their trust, he leaned hard onto an elbow pressed into the crumpled linens beside Alex’s flexing thigh and wrapped his free hand around himself. Matching the erratic pace of Alex’s hips as closely as he could, Henry was vaguely aware of the lack of lubricant building heat quickly where skin met skin. He should wait, but the almost-painful drag of his palm met the mounting soreness of his throat and the lingering sting of abuse to his scalp and he was there, pressed against the edge and moaning around a mouthful of Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz until he was shaking with the force of his release.

Alex, his amazing fucking Alex, was crying out now into the fading darkness, fists clenched in Henry’s hair to hold him in place while he came into his wonderfully aching throat, gasping each time Henry swallowed with him still deep inside his mouth. Eventually, the body beneath him melted back into the bed and Henry found himself being beckoned more than pulled toward the pillows.

“You,” Alex said, shaking his head and smirking, “are absolutely perfect.” He turned his head to meet Henry’s gaze, which was embarrassingly adoring, and wound their fingers together.

“This shouldn’t be news to you, dear.” Henry’s attempted attitude failed thanks to the enormous smile plastered on his face, though he’d never concede the point willingly.

“It’s not,” Alex said simply, forcing Henry’s heart to skip a beat against its better judgment. “What time is it?”

Henry’s brow furrowed a moment. “I was up at half five, so about six now I’d wager.”

“Six o’clock. On a Saturday. In November. You are perfect. And I love you. And if you speak one word to me in the next hour, I will have you killed.”

Henry kissed his temple and slid off the bed in search of clothes. “Shall I put coffee on, sweetheart?”

“Wales, I swear to god. MI6 cannot save you from my wrath.”

“Half pot, then?”

Alex groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. Henry strode out of the room to a muffled “better remember the cinnamon.” He would, of course, until his dying day. Unfortunately, he had once again forgotten his pen.

#fanfiction #fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fic #henry rwrb #rwrb alex #rwrb #red white royal blue #red white and royal blue #first prince #firstprince #smut #pwp #alex x henry #henry x alex

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learnfromwarhol · 1 year

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Pop Goes the World: Warhol's Influence on Celebrity Culture

Hey there, pop culture enthusiasts! Today we're going to dive into the world of Andy Warhol and his lasting impact on celebrity culture. Yes, you heard that right. The master of Pop Art didn't just make soup cans and Marilyn Monroe portraits; he revolutionized the way we think about fame and the people who achieve it.

Now, you might be thinking, "But Warhol's art was all about commercialism and mass production. How could that have anything to do with the glitz and glam of Hollywood?" Well, my dear reader, let me enlighten you.

First of all, Warhol understood the power of repetition and image. He knew that by constantly bombarding the public with the same face or product, he could make them see it in a new and exciting way. This is the same principle that drives celebrity culture today. We can't get enough of our favorite stars, and we want to see them everywhere: on TV, in magazines, on social media. The more we see them, the more we love them.

But Warhol didn't just create art that celebrated fame; he also critiqued it. His "Death and Disaster" series, which depicted car crashes and electric chairs, was a commentary on our obsession with tragedy and spectacle. In a way, he was exposing the darker side of celebrity culture, showing us that even the most glamorous and beloved figures are not invincible.

So the next time you're scrolling through Instagram or watching a reality show, think about Warhol and his legacy. He may have passed away in 1987, but his ideas and art continue to shape our world in ways we can't even imagine. Pop goes the world, indeed.

Until next time, keep on learning from Warhol.

Best, Your favorite pop culture guru.

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argyrocratie · 7 months

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Solidarity among the Displaced

How Russian Anarchists in Exile Supported Armenian Refugee Squatters

(2023-09-19)

Throughout the world, mass displacement is accelerating as climate catastrophe, economic crisis, and war drive millions into exile, both within their own countries and across borders. These mass migrations are exacerbating gentrification, driving up housing costs just as real estate speculation is rendering more and more people homeless. How can displaced people continue to take political action in their new homes, establishing solidarity across ethnic lines in unfamiliar settings? In Armenia, Russian anarchists living in exile set one example, supporting Armenian refugees who had squatted the abandoned Ministry of Defense.

(...)

In the last decade, Yerevan saw several waves of protests. Do you see people building historical knowledge and experience from one struggle to the next?

With regards to the movement of the 2010s in Yerevan, there really was a street movement in which Armenian anarchists participated. There were protests against the increase in electricity prices, an anarchist bloc participated in a demonstration on human rights day, there was an action against the gentrification of Yerevan, and an action of anarcho-feminists. But unfortunately, all of the people from that generation have either left politics, joined political parties, or gone abroad to Russia or Europe.

Today, the anarchists in Armenia are mostly emigrants from the Russian Federation. In fact, I only know two Armenian anarchists: N—, a punk musician (who became an anarchist in the early 2020s), and S—, an anarcho-feminist who lectures in our space and occasionally publishes in left-wing and anarchist magazines (who also became anarchist around that time). Neither them, alas, was connected to the movements and affinity groups of the 2010s.

There is also an anarchist from Israel: Y—, a Jewish woman who gave birth in the Crimea, repatriated to Israel, lived there for 18 years in kibbutzim and participated in the anarchist movement there (including contact with “Anarchists Against the Wall”), married an Armenian and moved to Yerevan, and decided to establish a café here with anarchist and feminist themes. The café became a gathering place for the local Jewish community (for example, at Shabbat celebrations every Saturday), as well as for the creative intelligentsia, who held public readings there.

All this continued until Russia invaded Ukraine, after which the Russian authorities began to persecute their citizens even more, and hundreds of thousands of anti-war Russians (including anarchists) fled the country.

As a result, Armenia, which was mono-ethnic for almost all the years of its independence, is now more diverse.

The door of the Mama-jan café. The second sticker says “No war” in Russian.

That is how our small circle was formed, which now represents the entire anarchist movement in Armenia.

There are many different people among us. One is actively involved in veganism and even founded his own vegan cooperative (which I also joined). Others, like one friend who is a Christian anarchist, collect humanitarian aid for the victims of the war. There is a queer anarchist group that continues to engage in street activism.

How did you go about supporting the squatters?

As soon as we learned that they had been forcibly evicted, we decided to go and help them. We went to them several times and, despite some initial distrust, my friends managed to find a common language with them.

As a result, at the next weekly meeting, we discussed how to go about supporting them. One of the sympathizers of anarchist ideas, a visitor to our circle, arranged to supply firewood for using potbelly stoves to heat their tents. Also, as an anti-war activist with certain connections, I managed to invite a journalist friend there. During a subsequent visit, they met us very hospitably. We helped to unload the firewood and they fed us and taught us to play backgammon.

We made a report about the situation for emigrant Russian-language media, which later played a very important role. We also established contact with the charitable organization “Ethos,” which was founded by relocators in Yerevan and is engaged in helping both Ukrainian and Armenian refugees.

Thanks to the fact that news coverage appeared about the eviction and was reposted on our initiative via various publishing houses (for example, in “Doxa,” which actively covered the persecution of anarchists and anti-war protesters), we were able to initiate a collection for food, medicine, and fuel in Ethos. In the end, we collected 60,000 drams more than planned! [The equivalent of approximately $157, still a significant amount of money for some refugees in Armenia.]

Also, the squatters began to actively invite us to their protests: they held these every Thursday and every Monday near the government building and the State Expenditure Committee. My friends and I held a poster reading “State, why did you take away people’s housing” with anarchist symbols.

The squatters were very pleased with our support, and even invited us to barbecues—which was especially ironic in the case of our vegan friend.

What do anarchists have to offer to struggles for housing?

Anarchism, in principle, throughout its history, has been very interested in the housing issue. It is not for nothing that during the Paris Commune, one of the revolutionary decisions of the council was to settle homeless Parisians in the apartments of bourgeois emigrants who had fled to Versailles, and to establish a ban on evicting tenants for non-payment of rent. Housing insecurity is a significant aspect of modern society, a challenge to which anarchists must respond.

The example of this eviction is particularly striking. It shines a light on all the absurdity and immorality of a civilization based on private property.

The house was not built by its owner. It was erected, decorated, and furnished by innumerable workers—in the timber yard, the brick field, and the workshop, toiling for dear life at a minimum wage… Who, then, can appropriate to himself the tiniest plot of ground, or the meanest building, without committing a flagrant injustice? Who, then, has the right to sell to any bidder the smallest portion of the common heritage? On that point, as we have said, the workers are agreed. The idea of free dwellings showed its existence very plainly during the siege of Paris, when the cry was for an abatement pure and simple of the terms demanded by the landlords. It appeared again during the Commune of 1871, when the Paris workmen expected the Communal Council to decide boldly on the abolition of rent. And when the New Revolution comes, it will be the first question with which the poor will concern themselves. Whether in time of revolution or in time of peace, the worker must be housed somehow or other; he must have some sort of roof over his head. But, however tumble-down and squalid your dwelling may be, there is always a landlord who can evict you… Refusing uniforms and badges–those outward signs of authority and servitude–and remaining people among the people, the earnest revolutionists will work side by side with the masses, that the abolition of rent, the expropriation of houses, may become an accomplished fact. They will prepare the ground and encourage ideas to grow in this direction; and when the fruit of their labours is ripe, the people will proceed to expropriate the houses without giving heed to the theories which will certainly be thrust in their way–theories about paying compensation to landlords, and finding first the necessary funds. On the day that the expropriation of houses takes place, on that day, the exploited workers will have realized that the new times have come, that Labour will no longer have to bear the yoke of the rich and powerful, that Equality has been openly proclaimed, that this Revolution is a real fact, and not a theatrical make-believe, like so many others preceding it. -Peter Kropotkin, The Conquest of Bread

#anarchism #armenia

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starrystrawb · 16 days

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Up next in our Mother Nature line is Flora Mother Nature! Flora are well... plants. My favorite plant right now is Cherry Blossoms. I love them so much! Cherry blossoms represent spring, new hope, and new life! They're beautiful and fleeting. On to the eco-tips!

1. Have you ever heard of Junk journaling? It's when you take things that would usually be trash and make them into a collage! I love junk journaling, it's fun and it's beautiful! Recently, I used a McDonalds bag to make a little collage. I've also used candy wrappers, old magazines, and boxes from hair-care packaging! It's a fun way to reuse things and make art!

2. When you're not using something, unplug it. If your phone is done charging, or you've finished using the blender, unplug them! It's an easy and quick way to conserve energy. It can also save money on electric bills! And, speaking of conserving energy, when the sun is out, consider sitting by a window for light instead of turning a light on! I know these things are small and you can find tips like this anywhere, but I still think it's important to talk about them. They're easy, accessible, and free ways to help out the environment.

3. Thrifting can be a great way to make help the environment, but I also acknowledge that some thrift stores have been driving their prices up recently. I would highly recommend buying on apps like poshmark and depop if you can afford it, and shopping local thrift store when you can!

4. Farmers markets are one of my favorite things ever. I love going to my local farmers markets in summer and fall. But, lets face it friends, not everyone has a farmers market close to them, and they can be expensive. So it's just as important to know tips for shopping in supermarkets! Of course, bringing your own bags is a great way to reduce plastic! You can also make or buy reusable produce bags, or just refrain from getting any and let your produce wild out (I do this often).

5. Vote! Vote! VOTE! If you are able to vote where you live, read up on what's on the ballot and show up!

Base

#drawing #digital art #mlp #mlp fim #my little pony #friendship is magic #base edit #base art #mother nature #plants #cherry blossom #floral

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idesofrevolution · 2 years

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Beach Bum

"SOLD! For eight thousand five hundred to number 29, thank you so much ma'am, please see our associate afterward for your banking information." The auction hall was buzzing. It was all over the news: locker 482 having it's lock busted and the heavy iron door rolled up to reveal the long lost estate of the old school pro-surfer Ronnie "Riptide" Darensbourg. Ventura's very own legend from the 70's, Ronnie Riptide was a local hero who'd passed away in 1991. In fact, he'd been the hero for Francis Cragg since childhood.

To Francis, the heartthrob represented everthing he wanted to be as a teenager in 1977: laid back, efforlessly cool, athletic, flirtatious, sexy... and notoriously "open minded" in the bedroom. To be queer back in the day was quite the scandal that was reserved only for the Hollywood stars and not for the everyday person. Under this strict social law, Francis couldn't look at another guy, couldn't even be suspected of being gay- but he could live vicariously through Ronnie. All the gossip columns, all the magazines, the exposees... through Ronnie's insane stories, Francis felt as if he were the one with the outrageous, ostentatious life. Now 62 years old, the repressed man eagerly sat in the ornate auction hall, eagerly hoping to snag even a small piece of memorabilia. On his phone, the smiling image of Ronnie himself beams from his wallpaper.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have lot 35: a vintage 1980's Canvas Duffle Bag Tote. Cylinder shape. Bright abstract southwestern style pattern in red, orange, purple, turquoise, yellow, and green. End has graphic of a surfboard and words 'Laissez les bon temps rouler.' We will start the bid at $300." Francis raised his paddle, immediately recognizing the bag from the old Maxim articles in 1982. With a low starting bid at $300, he couldn't pass up the opportunity. The bid was quickly followed up with their paddles. $500... $1000... $1500... $1750... Francis opened up his wallet, devoid of cash, and holding about six maxed out credit cards. The last hope: his American Express, which was just $5000 shy of his limit. He felt compelled, required to get this small piece of his idol. Holding his breath, Francis thew up his paddle: all in at $5000.

"Five thousand on number 13, five thousand going once..." The crowd grew quiet, only whispers and murmurs breaking through the silence. "Going twice... SOLD! For five thousand to number 13. Please see our associate with your banking information." Francis immediately stood up and rushed to the back of the room, glibly handing over the very last of his funds to the smiling woman behind the counter, blissfully unaware of the middle aged man's complete economic collapse.

"Is it alright if I take the bag now? No need for delivery." The woman nodded with her wide grin, grabbing the arm strap of the bag and handing it over to him. The moment his fingertips touched the old fabric strap, he felt his breath rush out of his lungs; the electric sting of being starstruck. The bag draped naturally over his shoulder, just like it did on Ronnie all those years ago. Beaming from ear to ear, he strolled out the door back to his car, unaware of the gentle squirming within the zipped bag.

The drive home took merely minutes, as he stayed at the Beachcomber Motel overlooking the rolling waves of Ventura Beach. He slammed the door of his old jalopy, waving at the invalid Ms. Parthay mindlessly staring from behind her dusty window. He walked into the room, so used to the smell of mildew and mold that it no longer made his eyes water the way it used to. But in this one singular moment, the depressing everyday life of Francis Tate melted away. He let the bag droop down onto the ratty old bedspread as he eagerly examined every inch of it. The weathered old canvas bag with it's faded Aztec woven pattern, once extremely in vogue, now sat riddled in frayed holes in an unfortunate derlict state. But to Francis, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Just as he was raising his fingers to unzip the bag, it jolted sharply to the left.

Francis jumped backward, taken off guard. Surely it couldn't be a rat or mouse- the Auction House would never let someone spend thousands of dollars on a rat-infested item... right? The raging thought of some rodent knawing on his prized possession overtook whatever common sense he held, and with a single stroke of his hand he unzipped the bag. No movement. Nothing jumping out. No squeaking. Yet, an unmistakeable smell began to waft out of the open bag: a mix of age old air and sweaty rubber. Peering down into the dark confines, his jaw dropped open. Underneath an old barbasol can and broken plastic water bottle was the famous competition wetsuit itself. His breath labored and his pupils dilated, he gently pinched the rubbery shoulder of the neoprene suit and pulled upward, the sheer size of the thing shocking him to his core. Perhaps the Auction house did not actually thoroughly inspect their items after all.

He pulled the suit close to his face, intensely inspecting every inch of it for rubber rot, as the piece hadn't been used since the 80's. To his delight, the suit was entirely intact, the fabric stretching effortlessly without so much as a single crease. What it did have, however was a stench. Extremely salty and sour, clearly marinating in Ronnie's sweat and skin oils for decades, leaving the odor permanently imprinted within it. Bringing the rubber suit to his face, he pressed it against his nose and inhaled. This was as close as he'd ever been to his idol, the guy who had been an every day fantasy in his dreams. Wrapped in his scent, feeling the slick rubber material between his fingers, it was his life long dream. In his mind, he could feel the rise and fall of Ronnie's chest pushed against his, his lean, muscled arms wrapping around him, the scrunching and squeaking of his wetsuit as he moves...

In reality, his eyes tightly closed shut as his nose pressed against the suit, Francis couldn't see the zipper slowly slide downward and the arms wrap around his shoulders. He couldn't feel his clothes slowly unbutton themselves before it was too late, and they were forcibly ripped from his body by unseen hands. All he could do is gasp loudly as the suit flew backwards with impressive speed, pressing him firmly against the wall as the sleeves quickly slipped onto his arms. Just before he could muster out so much as a whimper, his left hand clasped over his mouth. Muffled and gagged, he could do nothing as his right hand helped stretch the musky suit down and over his legs. Behind him, the suit zipped itself up quickly, compressing Francis tightly within it's rubbery confines.

"Mmmmmmph... Mmmmmmmmsh..." He struggled against his own body betraying his every movement, controlled by some ethereal presence as if a puppet on a string. The smell was growing stronger and stronger, amplified by the spiking body heat and sweat that began to seep into it's fabric. Tighter, tighter, tighter it squeezed Francis as if a corset had been strung tight against his chest until he could barely breathe- and when he could it was filled with the dizzying musk. His gut began to press inward, flattening out with the blasting sound of deflating balloons blowing out of beneath the suit. Barely conscious, he could only look down from behind his pulsating hand's gag to see the liquifing fat start to squirm beneath the shiny black rubber, quickly sloshing into his pecs and broadening shoulders.

All at once, Francis felt the fat within him squish and thrust into his muscles, the suit croaking and groaning as his biceps and triceps began to bulge out and his hands shrink and become lean, soft palms and long fingers. Francis could feel his awareness, the last vestige of control he had within his quickly morphing body, desperately trying to center himself and fight the invasion which was slipping him on like the suit he sported. His bulge started to balloon out, feeling tendrils seep into his elongating cock, his weighty balls, and further slithering down into his quads and calves. His feet cracked and squeaked with pressure as they stretched outward, his toes as long as his ring finger and his arches perfectly bridging his heel with the balls of his feet. He'd lost nearly half his weight and mass, but looking down at his lean, toned, muscular body... He began to recognize just who it belonged to.

"Heheheheh..." A gravelly baritone chuckle rang out within his head, just as his jaw shifted to the left, cracking and sharpening as dark black hairs started to pierce out of his tanning skin. "Almost there, duuuuuuude." The voice was slick as his gleaming suit, yet stained with the aura of stonedness. He felt his jaw crack downward, opening his mouth wide while his lips plumped up and his long tongue snaked outward, a silver ball now piercing it in the center. The sides of his mouth curled into a cheeky grin as his teeth whitened and his moustache filled in. "Fuuuuuuck, bruh. You're a perfect fit for me. Fuckin' bitchin'." Francis's hair burst into a poofy blonde mop, his dark eyebrows falling down, down, down, tooping off his narrowing and increasingly bloodshot eyes. "Ayy, scoot over, dude. Let's let the Riptide take the wheel for a while..." Francis felt pressure within his head, something pushing, pounding against his brain... perhaps it was something deep down within him he'd all but repressed for all these years, or perhaps it was the sheer shock that had overwhelmed him in the moment, but as he felt the slithering present penetrate into his mind and flooding within, he couldn't help but feel satisfied as someone else, his idol, took over. One last crick of the neck, and Ronnie's piercing turquoise eyes now glistened beneath his furrowed brow.

"Awwwwww fuch yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh." Ronnie shot his load in the tight rubber wetsuit, feeling it's warm, sticky texture pressing against his sagging, sweaty balls. Smirking as he saunters over to the mirror, Ronnie gleamed from ear to ear, his perfect million dollar smile nearly sparkling from his new face. He could still feel the body adjusting to having him slip in, merely pinching the skin of his cheek and pulling grotesquely stretched his entire face outward before it snapped back- it'd take a few months before he felt 100% at home in his shared skin. He examined his new face; as if he'd slipped on a mask, once could see the original Riptide beneath it all, but hiding inside a mish mashed amalgamation of his host and his spirit. Unzipping the back of his suit, he pried his upper half free of it, his chiseled pecs and cobbled abs wafting the musky stench that now poured from his pores. He pursed his juicy lips, practicing the smoulder that had bedded a thousand babes and a thousand dudes.

"That's right, baby. Ahah," he gripped his chin between his fingers, admiring every inch of his sexy mug. "I'd fuck me." He laughed and winked in the mirror as he pried the rest of his rubber wetsuit off- he'd get back on the board soon enough. Perhaps he could just enjoy the beginnings of his new life. Snapping his fingers, the suit melted and flowed onto his body: massive, beat up checkerboard Vans, a pair of blue boardshorts, a gold chain and a pair of orange sunglasses now clothed him- just enough to show off to some sexy beach babe, or some hunky surfer dude he could toke and stroke with. "Yeahhhh, that's perfect."

Ronnie strode right out the door of the hotel room, passing by the maid, who stood there dumbfounded. This was not the man who entered the room moments ago... He winked at the perplexed woman, remarking just how familiar that face was under her breath. As the sun set on Ventura Beach, the surfer king sat on the lifeguard tower, smoking a blunt and watching the waves crash down onto the sands. Ventura might have changed, time may have passed, but those rolling waves are just the same as they always were. He smiled, putting his arm behind his head, and sighing in a chill aire. He'd own the town, just like he used to- and the future was bright.

#male possession #surfer transformation #male transformation #wetsuit #rubber #musk #jockification #twunk #original #male tf

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