#unhinged sex ed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munson-blurbs · 2 years

Note

I see you are taking requests. I love Eddie munson x reader angst. So maybe one where Eddie's band is doing well and he goes on a small tour and he attracts the unwanted attention of a stalker. She is so obsessed with him she moves to Hawkins and that is when she finds out that he has a fiance (the reader). The stalker than becomes obsessed with making the readers life a living hell. Death threats and all that bad stuff. Until the stalker hurts her one day. Make it as angsty as you want. If you can't do it, then please just ignore. Only if you are comfortable with it. Thanks 😊

Warnings: stalking, lots of violence, blood, knives, language, allusions to sex

WC: 3.7k

A/N: This is by far the creepiest thing I've ever written. Please let me know what you think. Your feedback really keeps me motivated.

"Oh, Eddie," Gareth says in a sing-song voice, peering out at their growing audience from behind the stage, "guess who's he-ere!"

"Oh, God," Eddie mutters as he tunes his guitar.

Puzzled, you look from him to Gareth for an answer, but when no one offers one, you ask, "Who's here?"

"Sorry to break it to you, Y/N," Jeff's voice is teasing, dripping sarcasm, "but Eddie's got himself a secret girlfriend."

"Eddie Munson!" you joke, feigning anger. "And here I am, trying to plan our wedding while you're collecting groupies on tour."

Your fiancé smiles at you wickedly. "Figured we could have a threesome or somethin.'" You give him a playful shove as he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Nah, babe. She's just a fan. Harmless."

"Just a fan?" Gareth sputters, throwing his head back with laughter. "Dude, she basically stalks you after each gig, trying to buy you drinks. One time, we found her waiting outside next to Eddie's van. I don't even know how she knew which one it was."

Worry rises inside of you. "Eds, be careful. Some of these girls can get a little unhinged."

Eddie's noticeably less concerned. "Don't worry. I'm gonna bring you out on stage tonight and introduce everyone to my beautiful almost-wife." He slings an arm around your waist. "Hopefully she'll get the hint."

Watching Eddie perform was an ethereal experience. Sure, you'd heard him rehearsing in the apartment you shared, but seeing him on stage was something else. He just exuded passion for music and connected with his audience. Maybe he connected with them a little too much, considering the situation with that girl, but she was far from your mind as you watched his fingers glide across his guitar. Eddie was born for this.

Corroded Coffin was in the middle of a six-week tour of different venues across Indiana. You weren't able to go to all of them without missing work, but when shows were close enough to home, you made the effort to be there.

They were wrapping up their set, with just the encore left, when Eddie spoke into the mic. "Thank you all for being here with us tonight. We hope we were able to rock your fuckin' worlds!" He's met with a chorus of cheers, widening the grin on his face. "I wanna introduce you all to someone incredibly special to me, who inspires all of the love songs I write." He waves you over and you bound across the stage into his open arms, beaming.

"This is my beautiful fiancée, Y/N. And see this?" He takes your hand and turns it so your diamond ring faces the audience. "Because of fans like you coming to see us, I was able to put this rock on her finger!" He plants a kiss on your lips with an exaggerated mwah! as the audience awws. It's hard to see individual faces, but everyone seems to be smiling. Everyone except for one woman.

She's in the front row, arms crossed over her body. She's in a tight red dress that lands just under her thighs. Her long blonde hair frames her scowling face and she's biting her lower lip as though she's trying to hold back tears.

That must be her, you think. That must be Eddie's "girlfriend." But you can't focus on her for too long, because Eddie grabs a chair for you to sit on while the band plays their encore. You're too enamored with Eddie and his performance to notice the pair of eyes that bore a hole in your head.

After the concert, you join the boys in their hotel room for pizza and snacks.

"You guys killed it!" you say as you take a cheesy slice. "The perfect combo of originals and covers. You had them in the palms of your hands!"

Jeff nods, his mouth full. "Thanks! Had a good crowd tonight, too."

"Hey, Y/N," Gareth teases, "didja see Eddie's girlfriend?" Eddie smacks the back of his head.

You laugh. "The blonde who looked like she wanted to murder me?"

"That's the one!"

Eddie puts his arm around you, sending tingles through your body. "Well, let's see if she shows up to our gig tomorrow. See if my good luck charm did the trick."

"Or, you know," you look up at him with puppy-dog eyes, "we could always try for that threesome."

You drive home the next morning after staying with Eddie. He normally shared the room with the rest of the band, but he'd rented an extra room so you two could...catch up. You didn't want to leave, but you also need to get to work. You spent the morning nestled into his arms while he kissed all over your face until the bedside clock warned that you had to go.

"Let me know if she shows up and you need me to kick her ass," you whisper into his lips as you say good-bye.

"Calm down, Muhammad Ali," Eddie kisses you against your car, cupping your cheek as he presses his plump lips to yours. "I'll be fine."

You reminisce about last night with your beautiful, wonderful fiancé until you arrive at work. You're so focused on the thought of him running his fingers over your body like his strums his guitar to notice the green sedan that's been following you since you left the hotel.

It's dark out by the time you leave work. You make your way to your car and unlock the driver's side door when you spot a piece of paper tucked under your windshield wipers. It's ripped carelessly from a spiral-bound notebook. You unfold it and gasp. Written on it in black ink are two words:

Die, Bitch

This has to be some kind of joke. Someone messing with you. Who would be unhinged enough to seriously threaten your life?

And then you remember. The girl at Eddie's show.

Your blood runs cold. The clock reads 9:07 PM, which means Corroded Coffin is on right now. You can't even call him.

"Fuck!" you yell to no one in particular. You look around and don't see anyone. Okay, you can do this. You just have to get home, lock yourself in your apartment, and wait until 10:30 when their set usually ends. Yeah, you'll just call the venue and ask to speak to Eddie, and he'll come right home. Perfect.

You turn on the car and take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You've only gone down the road before the low tire pressure light illuminates your dashboard. This always happens in the fall when the weather gets cooler, and you make a mental note to fill up your tires tomorrow.

A few blocks later, you hear a clunk coming from the front of your car.

"Oh, come on!" you groan, slamming your fists onto the steering wheel. You pull over and get out of your car to inspect your tires. Sure enough, the front right tire is completely flat. That never happens; you can at least make it back from work and to the gas station before they run out of air. But then you notice that the front left tire is dangerously low, too. And so are the the two back ones.

Did she...did she slash your tires?

You run the last mile home faster than you've ever run before, hair flying behind you. The night is chilly, but you're drenched in sweat from the sprint and the fear coursing through your blood. Blisters form on your feet but you push through the pain.

The lights coming from your apartment building have never looked so beautiful. It's a place where the plumbing backed up and the elevators were out of service more than they worked, but right now, it's the best thing you've ever seen. You dash up the stairwell, grateful that your place is only on the second floor. Your weary legs are nearly collapse under you as you turn your key in the lock.

"Hi, neighbor."

You spin around and see her, leaned up against the door of the apartment across from yours. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she's traded her dress for an inconspicuous sweater and pair of jeans, but it's definitely her. A sinister smile creeps across her face.

"Did you see the gift I left you?" she asks, walking toward you. "Or did it fall flat?" She cackles at her joke while you stay frozen, both fight and flight failing you.

"W-why are you doing this to me?" you finally manage. "What did I do to you?"

She narrows her brown eyes. "I show up to Eddie's shows. Every. Single. One." she spits venomously. "And you show up last night, act like you're fucking gracing us with your presence, showing off a ring that shouldn't even belong to you.

"Do you know what Eddie needs? Who he needs? He needs someone who supports him all the time, not just when it's convenient for her. He's gonna be famous one day, and when he realizes how many girls would do anything for him, he'll leave you in the dust where you belong," she sneers.

"Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of patience," she says calmly as she reaches into her pants pocket, pulling out a small pocketknife. "So here's what's gonna happen. You're going to end things with Eddie, or I'll slice your throat open and go back home like nothing ever happened." She gestures across the hall.

"You...live here?" you ask incredulously.

"Just moved in," she announces proudly, "but I've been keeping an eye on this building for vacancies since I first saw Corroded Coffin play. Y'know, Eddie shouldn't have his address listed in the WhitePages now that they're really taking off." She says this like she's helping, like she isn't threatening your life.

"Eddie's playing a gig right now," you say, though you're almost positive that she already knows this, "but he calls me every night after his show. I-I'll do it then."

She offers that evil smile again. "Perfect. Gives us time to rehearse what you'll say. And if you go off-script..." she presses the blade to your neck and cackles. "Now, open the door."

The phone rings at 10:40, and you snatch it from the receiver with breathtaking speed.

"H-Hello?" You feel the knife against your throat as she leans into hear what Eddie's saying to you.

"Hey, babe! Guess what?" You feel his excited energy through the phone and hope he can pick up on your terror. "She didn't show up. Looks like our plan worked!"

"T-that's great, Eds," you choke out, wincing as she overhears the conversation. She tilts your chin so that your eyes meet hers, and you watch her mouth, Say it. "But I'm breaking up with you."

"Haha, very funny," he says, and your heart sinks as you realize he's completely oblivious.

"No, I'm serious. You deserve better than me. And," you swallow thickly, "and I've been cheating on you."

There's silence on the other end of the line. You think he might've hung up until he exhales loudly and asks, "With who?"

"Doesn't matter," you repeat the lines she's fed you. "There's been more than one guy."

"Why are you telling me this now, Y/N?" His voice warbles, and your heart breaks knowing you're making him cry.

"I'm sorry," you respond, feeling tears well up in your own eyes, "but I don't love you anymore." And you hang up and burst into tears.

"There, there," she runs a cold hand through your hair, fingers catching on the knots that formed throughout the day. She tears through them, sending jolts of pain into your scalp. "You did the right thing, Y/N."

"Please, just leave me alone," you choke out. "I did what you asked."

She shakes her head. "You're not dumb, so I don't know why you're acting like you are." She grabs your elbow with her free hand and stands you up. "Go and pack your things. All your things. You're leaving tonight." You hesitate for a second and she raises the blade to your neck again. "I said GO!"

You shuffle into the room, still sobbing. You fling open a suitcase and start shoving clothes in haphazardly. She's next to you the whole time, watching your every move. After 30 minutes, you've packed as many belongings as you can into various pieces of luggage and piled them at the entryway.

"Now, one last thing," she says in an eerily soft voice. She takes your left hand, plucks off your engagement ring, and slides it on her own finger. She holds up her hand as the diamond catches the light. "Fits like a glove. Like it was meant to be."

You're about to throw up when there's a knock at the door. It can't be Eddie; his show was two hours from here.

"Who the fuck is that?" she hisses. She ticks the blade upwards and you feel the skin break slightly.

"I-I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I'll answer it and tell them to leave, okay?"

"Don't try anything, or that cut will be a lot deeper," she threatens.

You open the door slowly, just a crack, and see Jim Hopper standing in front of you.

"Y/N, Eddie just called me, said to get over here. Said something's wrong," he whispers. You see his eyes meet the trickle of blood creeping down your neck.

Help me, you mouth, and then quickly say, "I'm not interested in supporting the Hawkins PD." You close the door and pray that he got the message.

"Open this door!" he bellows. “Open the door, or I’ll break it down!”

The girl grabs your hair tight in her fist. “Did you call the police, you bitch?” Saliva gathers at the corners of her lips.

“N-no,” you cry, “Eddie must’ve called them after I hung up. I swear.”

She turns her attention back to the door to address the chief of police, never easing her grip on your locks. “You break down this door and you’ll find her in a pool of her own blood!”

You vaguely hear Hopper calling for backup through the pounding in your ears. I’m going to die, you think. I’m going to die right here in my home, where Eddie and I were supposed to start a family. She’s going to take it all away from me.

“It really is a shame it had to come to this,” she mumbles. “I’d hoped Eddie would see me at his shows and make me his. I dressed so he’d notice me, and apparently, he did.” She pauses for a moment, contemplating. “I bet it was you who told him to watch out for me. Because you know I’m a threat. You know I could steal him from you, and that terrifies you, doesn’t it?” She’s proud of herself, feeding her own ego.

You’re unsure whether it’s better to agree or argue, and you ultimately decide to say nothing. There isn’t anything that can help you now.

Another heavy knock on the door startles you from your thoughts. “Hawkins PD! Release the hostage, or we’re calling in the crisis team.” It’s not Hopper, but a different male officer, though you’re sure he’s still there.

She’s laughing now, and you only see pure malice in her eyes. “Fuck off,” she says, too quietly for them to hear. It’s meant for you.

The cop calls out twice more, and you hear him say something to the chief, though you can’t make out what it is.

“If you let her go, we can just take you down to the station. We don’t have to get anyone else involved,” Hopper tells her. “We don’t have to make this bigger than it needs to be.”

The girl bites down hard on her lower lip, drawing blood. “You see what you do? You couldn’t just leave Eddie alone, could you? This all could have been avoided if you weren’t so selfish.” Her hand still in your hair, she drags you over to the bedroom. Strands tear from your scalp. “There. Much quieter in here.”

She throws you on the floor, where you land with a smack. Your head hits the bed frame before you can get your hands out in front of you, and you yelp. A curtain of red falls over your left eye.

“Clumsy bitch,” she grumbles, pacing in front of the door.

She has to get tired eventually, you think. Just gotta wait it out.

She’s babbling on about her future with Eddie, what their wedding will look like, how adorable their children will be. That and the lightheadedness from losing blood is enough to make you sick. You feel the bile rising in your throat, but it stops when you spot something shiny underneath the bed.

Eddie’s handcuffs.

He used to just wear them as an accessory, but they’d been put to...other uses since you two had gotten together. They must’ve gotten kicked under the bed after you’d last used them.

A plan formulates in your head, though it’s hard to straighten your racing thoughts.

Wait until she’s sleeping...cuff her...run like hell.

You repeat the steps silently memorizing them as you did the lines to break up with Eddie.

Your clock shows that it’s just past midnight when you hear his voice.

“Y/N! Where is she?” he shouts at the officers, though you can’t make out their responses.

“Let her go!” he screams, fists hammering the door. “Just let her go!”

You’re trembling, desperate to be out of this room, to be held in his arms, to be away from the crazy woman who’s hell-bent on destroying you.

“Aw, your knight in shining armor showed up,” she taunts you now. “Wonder what he’ll think of my new ring. Think he’ll like it?” When you say nothing, she takes a sneakered foot and kicks you in the stomach. You curl up, shielding yourself from another blow. “I said, do you think he’ll like it.”

“Y-yes,” you say between clenched teeth. “I think he’ll love it.” You crane your neck slightly so you’re looking right at her. “What are you gonna do to me once you get him?” you ask softly, afraid for her answer.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she replies simply, as though it’s an ordinary response. “I’m gonna kill you and make him watch. Show him what happens when he makes the wrong choice, so he doesn’t do it again.” She flicks her knife and you shudder, but you don’t miss the yawn that escapes her mouth.

Keep her talking, you think hazily, but don’t talk too much. Don’t give yourself away.

“What made you go for Eddie?” you ask. “Why him?”

“We’re soulmates. I just...feel it.” Her eyes dance as she talks about him, the way he shows off for her on stage, the songs he writes that she knows have to be about her. She goes on and on, and the only thought keeping your stomach from souring completely is that she’s wearing herself out.

Hours pass, and the sun is starting to rise before her eyelids flutter as she lays against the bedroom door. The pinkish streaks streams through the blinds and you know it’s only a matter of moments before the bright light wakes her fully. You listen to her soft snores as you slowly reach for the cuffs, allowing yourself a tiny smile, a small moment of joy, as you grasp the metal between your weak fingers.

You snap one around her left wrist. You have to work fast but gently, strategically, to get the other around the doorknob. It won’t hold her back for long, but hopefully just long enough that you can get to safety.

As the second cuff clicks closed, her eyes snap open. “W-wha--” she starts, and you yank the door open and fly through the living room.

"I’m here I’m here it’s me!” you cry out, flinging yourself into the first person you see. That person happens to be Chief Hopper, who brings his gun down to his side to envelop you in his arms. You feel him breathe a sigh of relief, tension leaving his body.

“We’ve got you,” he murmurs. Someone throws a blanket over your shoulders and guides you towards an EMT. A swarm of uniformed officers, maybe a SWAT team, rushes into the apartment to arrest your assailant.

“Oh my god,” you hear Eddie breathe, making his way through the crowd of people until he reaches you. “Baby, I am so sorry.”

“‘S not your fault,” you sob into his chest, crumbling to the ground and taking him with you.

“Yes, it is,” he’s crying now, too, “I paraded you out on stage, showed you off, instead of just going to the cops in the first place.” He takes your hands in his, a puzzled look crossing his face when he can’t feel your ring.

“She took it,” you tell him numbly. “She’s wearing it right now.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” he promises, but you shake your head.

“Don’t care about that,” you heave, trying to catch your breath but finding it impossible. And then the world goes black.

You wake up in a hospital bed, machines whirring and beeping around you. You stir and almost immediately feel a hand on your arm.

“Y/N? You awake?” Eddie’s voice floats past you, music to your ears. You smile as a headache pulses through your temples. You touch your forehead gingerly to find a bandage covering the wound you acquired last night.

“I’m awake, Eds,” you croak.

“Oh, thank god,” he leans in to kiss you, laying a hand on your stomach, but he pulls back as soon as he notices your grimace.

“She...she kicked me there,” you explain, and his face falls.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His voice shakes and his hands tremble.

“Where is she?” Dread flows through you as you realize she could’ve escaped, could still be out there, waiting for you.

“Locked up, no bail,” his doe eyes meet yours. “She won’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore,” he promises.

Your tears are those of joy, and he holds you close, letting you cry. You’re staining his shirt but neither of you care.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” he promises. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

A word, a feeling, a state of being you’ll never take for granted again.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #requests

1K notes · View notes

notallsandmen · 1 year

Text

Hear me out: Special eds teacher Hob

ADHD Hob being perfect for Dream because he’s understanding of Dream’s time blindness, propensity for hyperfocus, emotional dysregulation and rejection sensitivity.

ADHD Hob becoming a special education teacher, and just taking one solid look at Dream’s more neurodivergent-coded issues and going: ”you know what? I’m going to save this bastard with my unhinged love and Montessori pedagogy.”

Hob asking Matthew to help him remind Dream of things during the day; to maintain contact even when Dream is time-blind and keeps forgetting their dates because he is two weeks deep into a tentacled goat WIP and will stop for no one.

Hob pointing out the hypocrisy of Dream hammering on about sleep hygiene, before helping him implement some hard-line work/life balance rules to prevent burn-out. Hob sneaking a pomodoro timer into the Dreaming to force Dream to take regular breaks.

Lucienne is so relieved that she actually goes on a beach vacation / sex romp with Gault

#ADHD icon Hob Gadling #ADHD Hob Gadling #Special eds teacher Hob Gadling #neurodivergent dreamling #my dreamling writing #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfics #neurodivergent of the endless #AU canon neurodivergence #dream x hob #morpheus x hob

363 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 2 years

Text

satin spats (steddie x reader)

Hi. This is a semi-prequel to the Good Cop x Bad Cop trilogy. Showing that Steve had been slowly becoming more unhinged overtime about his innate need for control when it comes to feeling powerless against his father. A lead up to why Reader calling Eddie 'Daddy’ in GCxBC: Daddy Lessons was the nail in the coffin for him going off the rails. This features a really, like genuinely emotionally mean Steve and this has a big Eddie to the rescue focus towards the end.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, VERYMEAN!STEVE, intense degradation/humiliation, choking/leash play, swearing, fighting, yelling, rough sex, p in v sex, oral (male receiving), really mean name calling, drinking, controlling behavior, etc.

“I really think you’re the perfect fit. You’re never late, you always know what’s happening in the office, you’re always taking on more than you can chew and then chewing it.” “Are you sure, Mr. Harrington? Is this really happening right now?” you asked, beaming. “I think you’ll make a great Executive Assistant – I’m offering you the promotion,” your boss said with a shrug, “You wanna take up the offer?” “Uh, yes!” you replied, your heart soaring after a year and a half of getting coffees and answering phones, “Absolutely yes! And it’s not…like, this isn’t because I’m with Steve, right?”

“My son has no bearing on where I see excellence, Stella,” he said as if he hadn’t just insulted his only son, “This is all you.” Your smile faltered a bit at the dig, but you were so happy that you didn’t want to let it bother you. You had really wanted this promotion in the office. You and Eddie did practice interviews for weeks (’Yeah, baby, show me how bad you want this promotion.’ ‘Ed be serious, please!’), he helped you streamline your resume, he made you French toast this morning on homemade brioche because he wanted you to ‘get promoted on a full stomach’. (’Ed I’m so nervous, I can’t.’ ‘You have to, sweet thing, you’ll feel so much better – and it took me forever to make that brioche so if you don’t eat it I’ll be really sad.’) “Mr. Harrington, I’m –” you were at a loss for words, “I don’t know what to say. I’m so honored! I promise I won’t let you down.” “I know you won’t. We’ll get you started in a week or so, while we get a new secretary on board,” he explained. “Okay! Great!” you squealed, “It’s really happening!”

“It really is,” he smiled back at you, “Give my son a call, we should celebrate later. We’ll do D’archenzo.” “I will, I will,” you said, getting up from the chair across from his desk, “Thank you so much Mr. Harrington.” “Stel, please, just call me Bill,” he pleaded. “Sorry – ugh, thank you so much Bill,” you said, at the door frame. You left his office, shutting the door behind you. Your face hurt from smiling. You scurried back to your desk and immediately called the boy who would be the most excited to hear from you. “Thanks for calling Danger Records. This is the guy who runs it,” Eddie’s bored voice rang through the phone, “How can I help you?” “Ed.” “Oh shit!” you could hear through his words he was beaming, “You got it. Holy shit, you got it!” “I got it!” you tried not to scream, bouncing up and down in your desk chair. “Oh babe, I am so proud of you. I knew you had it in the bag,” he cheered, “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel? Are you excited? You really earned it, sweet thing.” “I’m so excited, and I’m so nervous. I don’t know, it’s so many feelings,” you explained, jittery with enthusiasm.

“I’m so sad I’m closing, sweetheart,” he moped, “I would’ve had something put together for you for when you got home. Let me take my little Exec out this weekend.” You blushed at his new nickname, “Little Exec makes it sound silly.” “It’s not silly, it could never be silly, it’s you,” he said, adoration pouring through his words like honey. “But baby, I’m so sorry, I have to go. We got a couple people in here that need specifics – collectors. I’ll see you at home, okay?” “Yeah, yeah, okay! Um, Bill wants to take me and Steve out for a drink to celebrate at D’archenzo. But we’ll probably be back before you get home,” you said, sweat prickling under your dress at the thought of calling Steve. “Oooh, D’archenzo? My little miss money bags over here. Ugh, I can’t wait to see you and give you a big fat kiss. I love you,” Eddie’s smile was infectious, even if you couldn’t see it. “Love you too! I’ll see you tonight!”

You heaved a dreamy sigh at the praise and excitement. Sometimes it was nice to be cheered for, instead of the cheer leader. You picked up the phone off the receiver again and dialed Family Video slowly. Steve’s shift ended at 4 and it was 3:55, but you couldn’t will yourself to get the to conversation faster. “Family Video, this is Steve,” his voice was cheery, and accommodating.

“Hi Stevie, I’m sorry to call so close to the end of your shift,” you said. “That’s okay, baby, is everything okay at work?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s great!” you said, “I um – I got the job!”

“Oh…” he said, his voice still light but distant, “Was that today?” “Yeah, it was um, it was today,” you said, disappointment creeping into your chest.

“Well hey, congrats baby,” he said, his voice lacking the luster it had when he answered the phone. “Uh, your dad wants to know if you wanted to come meet us for celebratory drinks at 5. Do you wanna come?” you chewed on your lower lip, bouncing your leg anxiously. “And hang out with Bill?” he scoffed, “Oh yeah. That’s how I love spending my Friday nights off.” “Please?” you asked, your voice getting smaller. You heard him sigh, the kind he does when he runs his hand over his face, “Yeah honey, I’ll come. You going to Salvatore’s?” “D’archenzo,” you corrected. “Psht, of course he wants to do D’archenzo,” he muttered, taking a pause, “Yeah baby, I’ll see you there. Might be a little late, have to go home and change.” “That’s okay,” you said, a little breathily, “I’m excited to see you.”

“Me too, princess,” his tone made it sound otherwise. “Love you,” you said, meeker than you expected. “Love you, see you later.” Dial tone. You wished you had called Eddie second. –

You shifted nervously in the half circle booth at D’archenzo, eyes snapping from the door to your boss — nodding and smiling every now and again to pretend you were paying attention. The not so great thing about Bill is that he loved to hear himself talk, so it gave you a lot more time to think about how this night might go.

Steve didn’t like his father, that much was true. It was the grandstanding he did whenever he was around him that frustrated you — needing so desperately to be the King Steve he felt like his father wanted him to be. Cool, confident, a provider: all qualities his dad ingrained in him since he was a kid. The same kind of man he was, coasting through life with a winning smile and a law degree. But instead, Steve didn’t get the grades for college, much less a chance at Harvard. Now he was a Senior Manager at Family Video. Disappointed was the understatement of the century.

Your heart raced as you saw him come in and you sucked in a hard breath of air. He looked stunning, always making sure to look his best when it came to being around Bill. His brown and black sports jacket hugged him expertly over a patterned shirt, the collar undone just a bit so you could see the small gold Mary Magdalene pendant he wore on a chain that his grandmother gave him before she died. His matching pants were perfectly pressed, you could tell he was late because he went to go get them done at the cleaners. His leather shoes shining in the low light of the bar.

There was a mirror at the entrance and he nervously looked at himself in it, running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was tense but trying to appear to not be, trying to appear as cool, calm, and collected as he was when he came home ready to turn your ass bright red. After a final breath, he greeted the host with a stunning Harrington smile, nodding over to you and your dad’s booth.

“Hi, Stevie,” you said, plastering a big smile on your face.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his voice slightly lower than normal. He slid into the booth next to you and immediately put his hand on your thigh under the table. His thumb skittered over the hem of your work skirt, smoothing over your nylons. The touch made you feel safe, but you knew he was grounding himself – you were what was safe here. You wanted to fucking eat him alive on that table.

After a soft kiss on the lips, he turned his attention to his father.

“Bill.”

“Steven.”

You closed your eyes and let a breath out of your nose, trying to ease the tension by just existing between them. “Hi, are you folks dining or just– Oh, hey Mr. Harrington, good to see you again!” your eyes opened to the waiter at the edge of the table. Of course the waiters knew Bill, he came here all the time.

“Just drinks, Marco,” Bill replied, “Thanks.”

“Ladies first, what can I get started for you?” Marco turned his right smile to you.

“I’ll get–”

“She’ll have a margarita on the rocks, no salt. Patron, please,” Steve responded without a beat. Your cheeks burned, you didn’t think he’d order for you in front of his father, but that was always how it was. Steve craved control around him, and you were the easiest tool. You were embarrassed, even though the the order wasn’t wrong – you could do it yourself – your thighs tightened at the gesture, the edge on his voice just right.

“And for you?” the waiter asked, patiently.

“Do you have Maker’s Gold Label?” he asked, his posture broadening.

“We do, sir,” Marco responded.

“I’ll take a double,” he said, “Thanks.”

“Steve,” you warned while Bill was distracted ordering, “Not tonight.”

He squeezed your thigh hard to remind you who you were talking to. He got in close to your ear, his Paco Rabanne cologne hitting your nose, practically growling, “Watch who you’re talking to.”

You nodded, your eyes falling to the dark walnut table in front of you, “Sorry.”

Steve always got bourbon when he was with Bill, because Bill always got bourbon. But just like Bill, Steve was a mean drunk when he spent the night with Maker’s. Eddie didn’t even allow it in the house anymore.

“Not even a bouquet Steve?” Bill asked after Marco walked away, “Your girl just got a big promotion and you didn’t get her a present?”

You could’ve just died, it was already starting.

“Bill, I don’t need—” you started.

“It’s at the house,” Steve replied coolly, “Not something I want to keep in my pocket in this part of town.”

You kept your eyes on the table, knowing there wasn’t a gift or flowers. You were more surprised he even agreed to come around. He was doing his best, this was always hard for him.

The drinks arrived with a beautiful cocktail waitress that Bill eyed hungrily, you caught her blush. Steve huffed, “Mom couldn’t make it, tonight?”

“Your mom’s at the Miami house,” Bill said with a wink. He picked up his drink.

“A toast,” Bill started, you raised your glass, Steve half raised his, “To Steve’s girl becoming the breadwinner.”

He let out a hearty laugh. Steve didn’t even clink his glass, just downed the double and slammed it back down on the table. Your heart sunk, you knew it stung him.

“Oh, come on Steven, don’t be a sore sport. House husbands are gonna be all the rage in the 90s,” Bill smirked, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. Steve looked dead behind the eyes, only moving to signal to a waiter he’d like another bourbon.

“Speaking of house husbands, your friend Ed, how’s he doing?” Bill asked.

“Eddie’s fine,” you said, “At the record store tonight, closing up shop.”

“And it’s not weird for you? Living there with Steve’s roommate?” he asked.

You shook your head no, heat bubbling in your chest. Steve’s roommate. Not the man who plowed into you on the couch after playing 'interview’ last night, the scratches down his back still bright red the next day. 'Means I did my job right, baby girl,’ he said when you apologized.

“No, no, we’re all really good friends. It works out nicely!” you enthused. Steve had checked out, nursing the new bourbon that was slipped in front of him, his hand still cupped on your thigh.

The next 30 minutes had been grueling. Between the men sitting on either side of you bickering and continuing to drink, to Steve telling the waiter, “She’s had enough,” when you went to order a second margarita, your head was swimming. Then the check came…

Steve reached for it, snatching the waiter wallet and taking out his own.

“Steven–” Bill started.

“I got it, dad, I got it,” he said, not looking up.

“I don’t think Family Video can cover this bill, sport,” Bill said with a chuckle.

“I have the money, it’s fine,” he said, slotting the bills into the folder and putting his leather wallet back in his jacket’s inside pocket.

“You have the money, because I have the money,” Bill’s voice became fatherly, in that know-it-all way. Calm and smooth, but with an air of authority. A waiter came by to collect the check.

“Mr. Harrington, please let Steve cover it,” you cooed, “He’s just trying to be like you.” Steve’s postured straightened, he pinched the inside of your thigh and you stifled a yelp.

“Can’t blame him,” Bill smirked, and down the rest of his whiskey and standing up, “Alright kids, guess it’s time to be heading out. Next time, Stel get’s the check. She’s making more than both of you boys.”

“I’ll be right back, just heading the rest room,” you whispered to Steve, scooting over to get past him out of the booth.

“I’ll meet you in the fucking car,” Steve hissed, slamming his hands on the table to get up. The glasses shook on the table and you flinched, following out of the booth behind him and heading to the bathroom.

“Woah, woah, Steve, you good to drive…” you heard Bill say, and a semblance of a frustrated, ’Jesus Christ dad, I’m fine,’ as you moved further to the back of the bar.

—

The car ride was silent, Steve wasn’t drunk but you could tell he was feeling the bourbon. He was morose, leaning back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other on his lap. He cast a few glances over at you while you leaned your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the ledge the car door window. You weren’t necessarily pouty, but annoyed that this whole day had become about Steve. You started it off so happy, and now you just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

He pulled into the drive way and swiftly got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You followed suit, taking small steps in your patent leather work heels, your hands jammed into your trench coat pockets in the cold fall air. You both met in the front hall, shedding yourself of layers, Steve tossing his keys noisily into the bowl on the cabinet by the door.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, your brows furrowing, “You had your little melt down, grow up Steve.”

He let out a dark chuckle, “Yeah, okay. Thanks big shot.”

“What is your problem?” you asked, incredulous.

“I am so sick of you coming to the rescue for me around him. You always do this. You embarrass me every, single, time,” he said, his voice raising, his hands animated while he spoke.

“I think you were embarrassing enough on your own! Slamming your hands down, shouting – what, are you a fucking child?” you asked, “And don’t get me started on ordering for me and telling me when I’ve had enough. We were with your fucking dad, Steve. I’m a big girl, I think I got it.”

“Oh yeah, my big girl and her big new job, how could I fucking forget? Remind me again how much fucking better you think you are than me,” he hissed. He slung his suit jacket over the coat rack and huffed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge and taking out a beer, slamming it closed.

Fine, two could play at this game.

“Sure,” you shrilled, following him into the kitchen. You reached into your purse, grabbing a wad of $20s, “Here’s your fucking money back.”

The bills showered over him, some hitting him in the face. He leaned his lower back against the counter. Nodding slowly, his face stoic and cold.

“I asked the waiter to put it on my card, instead,” you said, your eyes boring into him, “Because I knew it was too much for you until you got paid again.”

“Hm,” he said, his jaw tense. Still nodding slowly while he put his beer down behind him and rolled up his sleeves. He pushed himself off the counter, and walked through the archway into the living room, placing himself on his favorite arm chair. You looked at him with your arms crossed, walking through the living room to the stairs.

“Don’t forget, you’re still free use this week,” Steve asked, his voice low and menacing. Your back straightened hearing the quiet anger in his voice. Fuck, you were free use this week.

“C'mere, big shot,” he said. You obeyed with a huff, walking over the to arm chair and looking down at him.

“What? What do you want?” you asked haughtily.

“Get on those knees before I make you,” he said, pointing at the ground between his feet. You began to kneel before he stopped you.

“Take this working girl shit off, first,” he said, tugging at your skirt and blazer. You stripped while he watched, blankness behind his eyes, it made you nervous. Maybe you went too far. No, fuck it, he went too far. He was being ridiculous.

You got down on your knees, naked, in front of him. Sure he’d make you suck his cock and then you go take a shower and go to bed.

He let a finger trace over your lower lip, pulled it back, and unbuckled his belt, slipping it around your neck. Not too tight, but just enough. You understood now that this was punishment, not funishment. He needed to feel in control again.

“Does he know?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face. “Does who know what, Steve?” you asked, annoyed. He pulled at your make shift leash, gagging you in the process. “Does Bill know that you come home from being a know-it-all at work and call his loser son, 'Daddy’?” his voice boarding the line between salacious and scary.

“Does he know that you get punished when you don’t follow my rules? That Daddy makes you do chores and behave just like he wants?” he leaned forward in his seat resting his forearms on his knees. The leather of the belt hanging loosely between his legs in front of you.

“That you like getting put over my knee and spanked like a little girl?” he got right in your face, you whimpered as the pressure on your throat tightened.

“Big shot, huh?” he said, “What, can’t take it?”

“Steve, the last t-time you–” he pulled tighter, your face reddened as you choked.

“Don’t fucking call me Steve when you’re in my fuckin’ house,” he hissed, “I own this fuckin’ house.”

He loosened the pull of the belt, “Sorry, Daddy,” you whisper softly.

“Good, that’s what I wanna hear,” he said, tapping your cheek with his fingers. He stood up, leaving some slack in the leather he held in his hands. You followed suit.

“Sit on the couch,” he said. You gingerly sat on the center cushion, your hands on your lap, waiting for your next instruction. Steve stood in front of you parting your legs with his knee, he undid his pants parting his own legs so his slacks and underwear would rest on his thighs.

“So, big league exec assistant. Show Daddy how sorry you are,” he said.

Your eyes brimmed with tears. So this is what he thought of your accomplishment. You took his cock in your hands, silky and smooth to the touch, achingly hard – you were almost scared of it. You let your flattened tongue glide from the base to the tip, sucking softly on his head, then mid shaft, and back to his head. Your tongue gliding expertly in your mouth, sucking in your cheeks just tightly enough, but not all the way. Not until you pulled him all the way into your mouth, his tip dipping down the back of your throat. You opened up your throat to accommodate him, groaning as you did, looking up begging him to make eye contact with you, to tell you that you were doing so good. He didn’t.

“Shit, that’s it. That’s how you got that promotion, hm?” he groaned, gripping your hair, “Suckin’ all the guys at the office like this? So they’ll all report to my dad how good you are?”

You moved your head back, taking him out of your mouth, you wanted to cry, “That’s not…That’s not how I got the job…”

“Must be, how else you get so good at putting dick that far down your throat?” his glare down at you was brutal, “I see those little outfits you wear to work, of course you’re the office whore.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears starting to spill down your cheeks. He tightened his pull on the belt again, you gagged out of your cry.

“You don’t get to tell me what you are,” he said, a chill whipped through your chest. “I do,” he said, pulling at the belt so you stood up. He hoisted up his pants, leaving them undone. He walked you over to the credenza, leaning you over it so you looked in the big ornate mirror on the wall, seeing him behind you. You watched him in the reflection tug his pants down again. He didn’t check if you were wet or not, just slammed himself into you, looking down at your ass, leaving a hard smack on it to watch it bounce back against his hips and hand.

“You know what you are, big shot?” he asked, looking at you in the mirror, “You’re a worthless fucking whore. C'mon, I wanna hear you say it, look at me in the mirror and say it.” “I’m a…I’m a worthless fucking whore,” you whimpered. “That’s right,” he grumbled, rutting mindlessly into you, “A stupid fucking slut.”

“Steve…” you said, hurt from his words paining your face. You watched the belt tighten on you neck in the mirror. You watched your face bloom red.

“Respect me in my fuckin’ house,” he said.

“Daddy, that’s…you’re being really mean,” you choked out.

“Really mean? Yeah?” he mocked, a sly grin pulling up his lips, “You wanna hear really mean, baby doll?”

His pace quickened while he held the pressure on the belt around your neck.

“You got that fuckin’ job because of me. You didn’t get all obedient without Daddy telling you what to do all the time. You didn’t work harder without me telling you what you needed to do. You didn’t get all that extra work done at home without me staying up and helping you figure out the fuckin’ budget books. I made you, you ungrateful bitch,” his voice getting more ragged with every sentence. The belt getting pulled a little tighter with every thrust.

“Talked you up to my mom so she’d talk you up to my dad. You didn’t do shit for that job,” he spat, “All you’re good for is being Daddy’s toy.” You tapped out.

Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, you slammed your hand down three times on the cradenza to get him to stop. He let go, gently taking the belt off and sliding out of you, you winced at the burn.

“Baby…” he said, his voice soft, “Baby, I didn’t mean…” You turned around, sobbing, “Yes you did, you did mean it.” “No, no,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I was just…you know how I get after I see Bill.” “You weren’t playing the p-p-part St-steve, that’s-that’s-s-s what you really th-thiiiiink,” your last words drawn out as another sob poured out of your body. “Oh baby girl, no, I promise,” he said, pulling back, “Hey, hey, let me look at your neck, okay?” “No, no,” you said, squirming out of his touch, “I don’t want you right now. I–” The front door opened, Eddie pushing it open with his hip, his hands full with a big bouquet of roses and a couple of records, “Where’s my little exeeeeccccc!” he sang out, a smile on his face. As he turned to kick off his shoes, he saw you both standing in the living room. His smile fell. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, gently placing the roses and records down on the cabinet. He slid his sneakers off and padded into the living room, his eyes filled with concern at you crying, naked in the mirror. “Oh sweet thing, what happened?” he asked, wrapping you up in his arms. You fell apart in his chest. 'Is she okay?’ he mouthed to Steve over your shoulder. Steve walked away and laced his fingers over his forehead, his head leaning back slightly. “What happened, baby?” he asked, pulling you a little away from his chest to look you over, “Were you playing and it was too much?” “She tapped out, Ed,” Steve said from the kitchen, in the same position. “He said I only got this job because I’m a whore,” you cried, “He said he made me. He–he leashed me with his b-belt again.” Eddie looked up at Steve, he was pissed. This was supposed to be your day. Eddie pressed a kiss to your temple, “Go upstairs, sweet girl. I’ll come make it better in a minute.” “I’m gonna take a shower,” you said. You felt dirty and degraded. The day was ruined, you padded up the stairs, stopping when you heard Eddie talking again. “That’s the third time in a week and a half that she’s safe’d out with you, Steve,” Eddie was livid, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Nothing, Ed, we’re just trying new things,” Steve muttered, he was quiet. “Bullshit, Harrington! Don’t lie to my face, come on!” Ed was full on yelling, “I saw her fucking neck, man. You know she hates that shit. She fucking hates it.”

“She was breaking my r–” Steve’s voice cracked. “I don’t care man. I don’t CARE what rules she was breaking. She doesn’t like the belt around her neck, so we don’t do it. Why can’t you just–Is this–wait is this all cause of Bill? Was tonight about Bill?” Ed’s voice shrilled up through the hall way and through the stairs. “Tell me this shit tonight isn’t about drinks with your dad,” You could tell by the sound of his voice that Eddie got to the point of being so mad he was smiling. If you were a betting woman, you’d guess he’d punch Steve next. Steve didn’t say anything for a minute, “She just…every time she just makes it worse.” “Steve, whatever shit you have going on with your dad is YOUR PROBLEM! She’s not the PROBLEM! She is a PERSON!” he yelled, “You can’t come home and beat on her just because you’re mad at your dad, that’s not how this shit works! She’s not your fucking punching bag when your feelings get hurt, Harrington! She’s your girl. She’s our girl.”

“This was such a big fucking day for her and I come home to her crying?! Cause her boyfriend said she’s an office whore? What’s wrong with you, man?” Ed’s voice was high and angry. “Go take a walk, man. Go figure it out,” he said, you could hear him heading over to the stairs. You scurried to the bathroom to shower before Ed could catch you listening. When you got out of the shower and into the bedroom, Ed was sitting on the bed in his boxers re-reading The Two Towers (for the millionth time). The bouquet of roses in a vase on on the dresser. He looked up from his book at you, “Angel vanimelda.” “Beautiful Angel?,” you asked, wrapped in your towel at the door. “See, the more elvish I speak to you, the quicker you’re learning it,” he said, closing the book and putting it on the side table. He got up, getting chest to chest with you and without a word pulled you into a deep kiss. One hand resting gently on your face, the other snaking around your waist. When he pulled away, he looked at you sweetly, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Tears filled your eyes again, that’s all you really wanted to hear. “Thanks, Ed, thank you,” you said with a quick sniffle, wiping them away. “I don’t think Steve meant what he said, I think he’s just – I don’t – figuring his shit out. But I’m here,” he pointed to himself, “And I’m saying fuck that guy, and you’re the most badass girl I know, aside from Nancy Wheeler because she has guns, and you earned that job.” You laughed, and let him kiss you again, he broke away and tilted your chin up, “Just checking out your neck, baby. I think it’s okay. Definitely gonna be red tomorrow, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t bruise up.” “Better not bruise up, I have to go be an executive assistant next week,” you smiled, the cry from earlier settling down in your chest. “That’s my girl! My little exec!” he cheered, pulling a bit at your towel so that it dropped to the floor, putting his hands on the smallest part of your waist. He looked you over and bit his bottom lip, his stare made you squeeze your thighs together. “So, since you got the job, can we not play 'interview practice’ anymore?” he asked, “Cause I really liked that game.” “We can play, on one condition,” you smirked, pulling him in, feeling his warm chest against yours. You pushed up on your tip toes and got in his face, “I get to be the boss this time.” Eddie became stupid almost immediately, barely containing his excitement, “Oh fuck yes, baby. Yes. Fuck. Oh my god, fuck. Be my fuckin’ boss any day, Jesus Christ.” — You had fallen asleep long before Steve had gotten back in the house. The forty minutes you spent sitting on Eddie’s face while he devoured you into, and you counted, seven orgasms, really tired you out. He definitely would’ve gotten the promotion if you were the boss. You slept soundly while the front door opened, the moonlight shining into the front hall. Steve closing it gently behind him, and taking his shoes off. You didn’t hear him sniffling or see him wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand while he sat in the dark in the living room. Cradling his head in his hands. Looking over at the money on the floor in the kitchen, his belt still on the cradenza, wracking his body with another flurry of breathy silent cries. “Pull it together, Harrington,” he whispered, the grogginess of his sobbing staining his voice, “Pull it together for her.” He got up, tears still pooled in his eyes, and reached into the inside pocket of the sports jacket he slung over the coat rack earlier that night. Fishing past his wallet, he pulled out a card and a little velvet box that had been there the whole night. He trudged into the kitchen and put them on the kitchen table, popping the box open to reveal the contents, leaving the card next to it with the note open. He picked up the money and neatly organized it, shoving it into his pants pocket. He slid his belt into his pants and trudged up the stairs, resigning himself to the man-cave couch that night. There was a reason Steve couldn’t totally afford to buy drinks tonight, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t making enough money. On the kitchen table, in the velvet box, sat a pair of ruby stud earrings you saw at the jewelers a month ago when Steve stopped in to get his watch cleaned. He watched you coo over them and knew you had to have them, he bought them two weeks later when you said you were going up for the Exec job. He knew you’d get it, you were too good. Next to the box, a simple note: To my best girl, You never fail to impress me. Love, Steve

#steddie x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie smut #steddie x reader smut #strangering things fan fiction #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #eddie munson fan fiction #the steddieverse

509 notes · View notes

digenerate-trash · 5 months

Note

"he's got a regular hook-up with some random once a month he pays them to film them having sex for his sex ed classes. But since he's met you he's stopped that." Time out. Ever since Sydney's other parent died, Sirris was having meaningless hookups. No emotional investment, no wanting the hookup and his kid to get along. Then he meets the player? And he drops the hookups, because they can’t compete. Man is unhinged.

Meaningless sex to film it is different then someone you want to spend you life with or at least someone you want to drug and fuck regularly

You wouldn't want your precious kid to meet your once a month purely for science reasons hook up- they could be deranged!!!

But you definatly want your kid to get along with your step parent- even if they're around the same age

#sirris the science teacher #dol #ask #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

39 notes · View notes

myers-meadow · 2 years

Text

Serpent Tongue: Valak x reader, Ed Warren x reader

Title: Serpent Tongue

Fandom: The Conjuring (particularly part two, and 'the devil made me do it').

Summary: Valak has his eyes set on a particular brand of torture for the Warrens, involving the protégé that is staying in their guestroom. As helpful as the protégé is to the family, this web of complications may just unhinge everything the Warrens have ever worked for. Temptations become more difficult to ignore, and Valak is not the only one to indulge.

Warnings: 18 +. dub-con, perhaps even non-con depending on interpretation. Sexually explicit content. Rough fucking. Reader is female. Cheating. Degredation. Oral (m receiving), penis in vagina sex. Open ending.

I had such a blast writing this, these little delightful snippits are truly how I enjoy exploring these concepts the most. Please do exercise caution while reading.

Ao3 link. And link to my masterlist.

Wordcount: 3780 words.

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

I don’t remember how it started. Surely, it was gradual. A secret that grew unnoticed, like a missing hair pin, missing but not missed, nothing big by itself. In the shadows it lived and became more than just a shadow and it spoke to me.

A body pressed against mine at night, in the guest room of a house that should be cleansed of anything evil. A priest blessed it twice a week, and Ed and Lorraine swore it was safe. And if anything was there, she would sense it, and deal with it. Still, it was there, hidden from Lorraine’s gifts, and I sensed it grow stronger over time. The whispers grew louder, the shadows darkened, the touches grew firmer. The temptations… worsened.

“What is your name?” I asked it one night. The weight next to me shifted, a grip on my wrist. It was too dark to really make anything out, yet a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, just centimetres away. My wrist lifted, moved over my head.

“You smell of blood tonight,” was all I received in return. Even when it released my wrist, I wasn’t in control. It was dream-like. As if consequences didn’t exist. A nose nudged mine and my eyes fluttered shut. A long, thin finger slid down my belly, over my pubic hair, until it reached my folds.

“You’ll surely be disappointed to know I’m only menstruating, and not mortally wounded.”

A quiet laugh sounded. “Shh, I’ll relieve the pain for you.” And the finger curled against a spot that had me whimpering.

During the day, at the library, I felt the presence weighing down each stack of books I moved. The medieval scripts were almost second nature. When I wrote down my name, I elongated the s just like they did. When returning home, my hands were dry from the frequent washing, to make sure the books wouldn’t degrade from the oils on our fingers. At home, it was my turn to cook. Lorraine had taken Judy out for a walk, it was such lovely weather, the tail-end of summer. Jackets left at home. I chopped the carrots with rhythmic precision, hoping to get done on time before Ed got home.

The front door opened and closed, shoes taken off, footsteps.

“In the kitchen,” I called, moving to the stove to stir the onions sizzling in the pan.

Two arms wrapped around my waist. His cologne.

“Hmm, smells good already. Is Lorraine out with Judy?” The vibrations of his voice carried through his chest and into my back. Ed brushed my braid over my shoulder, resting his chin on my crown.

“They’re on a walk,” I replied, trying to continue on cooking. It wasn’t new that he made me nervous, but his affections were changing. He squeezed me into him tightly, before letting go.

“Had a good day today?”

“I suppose. Same old, same old,” I peeked over my shoulder at him. He leant against the counter, arms crossed, looking at me but not at my eyes. “Lizette said that they have an interesting manuscript coming in next week, but there’s been some delays. We’ll see once it gets there, though, if it really has something to offer.”

Before either of us could say anything more, the front door clattered open and the two returned from their walk and the conversation turned to more cheerful things.

That night, the eyes and whispers were back.

“Won’t you afford me one night of peace?” I sighed, finding my breath halted by its proximity.

“It fascinates me how you much you know about me and my kin, yet are so susceptible to temptation.” A hand on my throat, a the pad of a clawed thumb touched my lips.

I scoffed at its words.

“A non-believer, even after all you witnessed,” it continued. “You fascinate me in many ways.”

Suppressing a yawn – it must be after midnight by now – I asked: “How so?”

“I’d almost take it as flattery, how you spend all that time researching me. All those books you search for, that thirst for knowledge – yet I’m right here, always.”

“What is your name?” I tried again, as I did almost every night.

“Wouldn’t that make it easy for you, hmm? No. You enjoy the challenge, but don’t desire the power that comes with the knowledge of my name. You do it for them.”

To devote my life to the Warren’s cause, that was the condition on inhabiting the guest room. To take care of Judy when they were on a case. To do their research, to take care of the house, to be an extra pair of eyes and hands. But all I am is an extra weakness.

The demon huffed, heated breath fanning my face. “You’re no fun today. Tired?”

“Yes,” I replied sharply.

“Why don’t you think of me a little longer?” it murmured, and the heat of his lips connected to mine. The taste of ashes was still there when I woke up.

Another day, a gloomy one. Autumn approached us. Lizette rapped her knuckles against the heavy oaken door of the small room I sat in. The Latin on the page made my head swim, but all I could think of were Lorraine (her glances around the room, to just behind me) and Ed (his health), who were out on a case. Somewhere two states away. It felt wrong to be so far from them, but life trudges on.

“The manuscript you wanted came in a few days ago. Something went wrong with the system, so I wasn’t notified. Would you like to see it now?” she said.

“Yeah, I’ll pick it up. Can’t focus today. Have you had a look at it yet?”

“Ah, a bit, yeah. Neat hand, and it was later edited by another scribe, which is always interesting. It has parts in Latin and in common.”

I stood up, closing the book I was reading in and coiling the string of weights into a spiral. “Not just another one with the 8th century date-rape drugs?”

She barked out a laugh. “Perhaps.”

The book was interesting, went in-depth about the rituals to summon demons. Some of the names I recognised from the Ars Goethia or from other manuscripts upon a first look through the thick pages. If the copy machine wasn’t still broken, I’d have made copies for at home.

Once home, the routine continued. The sizzling of meat in the pan, green beans boiling in the pot next to it; Ed pressing a lingering kiss to my hairline when Lorraine turned her back. I sprinkled parsley from the backyard garden over the potatoes and we sat down to eat.

Lorraine stopped me, in the morning. It was Saturday. Judy had climbed into bed with Ed and they had a lie in, but she had been too awake to go back to sleep and went down for coffee. Finding me in the kitchen, gold rimmed teacup in a trembling hand.

“Good morning,” we exchanged greetings. She seemed tired.

“Wouldn’t you like to sleep some more? Its only 7:30,” I said.

Lorraine shook her head with gentle smile, putting her cup of hot coffee down on the table as she sat down. “Let the two of them have their lay-in without me tossing and turning. How about you, what’s got you up this early?”

Couldn’t help but glance around, check the shadows, but likely he was listening. “The demon you had me research… It feels like I hit a roadblock. I’m sorry I can’t be of any use lately.”

She shifted in her seat, folding her hand over mine, warm with residual heat from the coffee cup. “Dear, why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling earlier? You mean so much to us, even when you’re just here, even if you don’t find anything worthwhile in your research.” She sighed softly, eyes warm, gave my hand a squeeze. “Judy loves having you here too, she said she likes how calm you are, that you don’t make her feel like a freak.”

We chuckled. “Thank you.”

A shadow behind Lorraine moved, but it was gone before I could focus on it. I hesitated. “There’s another thing, too. Have you noticed anything different lately?”

She sat up straight, retracted her hand. Even despite the care she showed others, she guarded herself well.

“What do you mean? If I’ve had any visions?”

I nodded.

She shifted again. “What kinds of visions?”

Avoiding her gaze, I instead focussed on the teacup in front of me. “Do you remember the painting Ed made? The one in-”

“In his office? Yeah.”

“That’s the demon you’re having me research, isn’t it? That’s what you want me to focus on. But the way he appears there is not his real form, so you didn’t tell me.”

She twirled her wedding ring around her finger. “Yes, it is. There is… history there. Finding out anything at all about him is valuable. The fact Ed dreamed about him is already worrying, and now that you’re asking if I’ve noticed anything different makes me believe you have seen him too.”

My voice dropped low, “Only his eyes.”

Her head cocked to the side, examining me, as if she looked right through me.

I shrugged. “And the usual, shadows, noises. Nothing much, but if I can sense it, I’m sure you’re bothered by it even more.”

The night was darker than usual. Awoke to breathing by my ear. Attempting to wave it away and turn on my side was met with pinned hands – fingers interlaced - and a deep kiss to my lips. A forked tongue against mine. I panted as it let up, threw my head back to avoid another lengthy kiss.

“You’re quiet,” I taunted. “Anything the matter?” The venom seeped through my voice. Another punishing kiss. Its teeth cut my lip, copper mixing with the taste of fire. I inhaled sharply as it sucked my lip, darting that split tongue over it. When those yellow eyes bore into mine, I realised they were previously closed and it seemed like it was genuinely enjoying this.

“What is this for?” I hissed, angry at my previous thought.

Finally the demon spoke. “He wants you,” its voice gravelly, something ancient. “I can taste his need, and his guilt.”

Its words felt significant somehow, as if they betrayed something more of its nature.

“You want this to happen. You want him to-”

“Yes? Say it, doll.”

“To hurt Lorraine.”

“Intimately,” it agreed, and kissed me again. A tear leaked from the corner of my eye. His hooked nose rubbing against mine, breathing the same air. It was hot, unbearably hot, underneath the duvet.

“You won’t break her.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “it seems you’ve given up so easily.”

An unseen force parted my thighs, the weight of him increased, as if he only now became fully corporeal. A knee finding the right pressure to grind against my vulva.

“Never,” I said, before arching up and biting his bottom lip.

Lorraine visited family with Judy, but Ed remained home. He needed the rest, for his health. I flipped through the scans of the manuscript I made. The radio played something soft, something acoustic. Ed looked up from his book to where I sat by the window, his forehead creasing as I caught his gaze.

“Anything interesting in those pages? Come, let me see.” He motioned me over, and I stood up. The alternative would be worse, but the dread in my stomach mixed well into something resembling arousal. Before I could reach the couch next to the chair he sat in, he pulled me down to sit onto his knee, in between his legs. This was fine, this was just- just a thing any fatherly figure would do. Right?

His easy-going smile, the one that won Lorraine over, and his bright blue eyes were for me then. I bit my lip and spread some of the more interesting pages out over his other leg, putting the rest of the stack on the coffee table.

“There are inconsistencies between the original text and the later edits, but it’s difficult to discern. I’m guessing there’s at least a century between the edits, but some seem to be made much later if I look at the script.”

He looked over the passages I pointed too. “The editor was messy.” His hand, big, warm, rested at the small of my back. Even that contact sparked a flurry of butterflies to erupt.

“Messy, but experienced. Even when taking the rhetoric of the time into account, he details several attempts he made, and of why he thinks the experiments didn’t work.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he said, before shifting in the chair, sitting up straighter. The paper forgotten, flittering somewhere to the floor. His other hand on my knee.

My mouth opening as if to say something, which he caught, his expression turning sly. Hand from knee up to shoulder, to cheek, to the back of my neck. I braced myself against the back of the chair as he tipped my balance over, enough to fall into him, weight crashing into his broad chest.

A messy kiss, teeth clashed from the surprise of tumbling. I braced my forearms against the back of the chair, chests pressed together. A forceful hand tipping my face to deepen the kiss. He tasted of coffee, warm, human. With a start I realised I hadn’t kissed another human being in over a year. Ed pulled back, resting his forehead against mine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled.

He chuckled. “You’re more than this good girl façade you show us, ain’t you?” Nipped my lip. “Well, show me.”

Showering that evening, alone. The water rushed over my face, I squeezed my wet hair and scrubbed my scalp. The lights flickered briefly and I felt it close in on me.

“Your guilt tastes different from his,” it spoke, disembodied. Lights went dim, I pushed open the shower curtain, saw the switch flip off.

“Quit messing around,” I protested, almost believing I deserved the torture for what I did. Expecting it to taunt me so more, then leave, I continued showering.

From the shadows formed a shape, something that sucked all light into it, something impossible to focus on. The eyes were brighter than ever, and it stepped behind the shower curtain, into the small space of the bath with me.

“You taste… sweet.” Clawed hands reached out to me, spun me around, my back to its chest. “Sweet and sticky, like honey. Can you see how my hands are coated in it?” A dreamy sigh, hands kneading my hips. Trying my damnest to ignore him, I rinsed all shampoo from my hair, then reached for the body wash. It was the one Lorraine used, vanilla and magnolia blossom scented.

“That’s just the soap,” I replied stubbornly, tone bitter. “You’re showing off, I take it you’ve been eating well?”

The creature was so tall it enveloped me, bending over to kiss and lap its forked tongue at my wet skin as I soaped myself. “He was the meal, you’re the dessert. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t had so much of him, so I could enjoy you more.”

Its groping hands made cleaning myself frustrating; they were quick to return each time I pushed them off. When I elbowed him, that was when the jig was up. A low growl, inhuman, dangerous, and instead of a tongue, now it was teeth and claw. A pull at my hair, making me look up into its demonic face as it hung above me, and punished me with a kiss that made my lips bleed. In panic, I turned the nob, the water briefly scalding hot before I managed to turn it off. Heaving, pressed my hand to my bleeding lips, and the demon had vanished.

Both of them grew bolder. For Ed, there was only one boundary: not in the their bed. Anywhere else, though, was fair game.

The Sunday chores; laundry day. I was at the ironing board, positioned one of his button ups, before pressing the hot iron into each crevice. His big hands over the sensitive spot where the demon clawed at my hips the night before, so I brought one of them up to my breast. He took to it greedily, kissing my ear and neck.

“Look at you, bein’ all good for me. I’m glad I’m the only one who can see this side of you,” he said, hot by my ear, before suddenly stopping and turning me around.

“Honey, what are those? Are those bitemarks?” he asked, voice alarmed, rubbing the spot at the crook of my neck. “What could have done this?”

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “It’s nothing.” Unconvincing. Terrible performance. I sighed, daring one look at his worried face. “Ed, do you remember the demon that you painted?”

“It was a demon? Oh, little one,” his voice lowered. “I knew there was more to you,” a growl, eyes burning with something animalistic. The shift felt unnatural. “Has it tasted you like I taste you now?”

I whimpered into his mouth as his hand constricted around my throat. Hand digging into the raw skin where he first spotted the marks, he pushed me down on my knees.

“You witch, I can’t believe we’ve let a temptress stay in our home.” The edge to his voice was dangerous, cruel. It crushed my heart, although it was foolish of me to hope he really did care for me.

“Ed, please,” I tried, but was met with the unbuckling of his belt.

The demon was delighted that night. It rubbed the bruises from Ed’s hands on my hips, right by its own claw marks. The yellow surrounded by darkness, the lifting of the duvet to make space for its body. Its new, corporeal body.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be desired? Wasn’t that what you wanted, to be needed so deeply?”

I gasped against its cheek as it pressed down on a bruise.

“You liked him right from the beginning, and now you’re getting to know the real him. The side of him he can’t show to that lovely wife.”

“You’re cruel,” I bit out, exhausted from the day, “and unfair. This isn’t the real Ed.”

The demon laughed. “I can see into his soul. He wanted you for so long… You, on your knees. Getting to call you all sorts of filthy names, my sweet witch, the one to aid my will. You may as well give me more now, he already thinks you’re mine.”

Hair brushed from my face, forked tongue dancing over closed lips. So tired that I opened up and let him indulge.

He hummed. “Delicious. Why don’t you go to sleep, doll? Let me help you to sleep. It’s only fair I reward you for doing so well.”

And he did, making my head swim, stealing my breath with kisses, rocking its cock in and out, slow, deep, making my toes curl even when half-asleep.

Quickies were Ed’s favourite. Any opening to shove himself into me was taken with glee. Somehow he was exactly the same as he always was, when we weren’t alone. A wink during dinner sometimes, or an extra hand on my back. If Lorraine noticed, she didn’t let it show. There was barely anything to notice, Ed was the perfect husband.

But with me, he was unbelievably different.

“Say you want it, whore,” he bit out between clenched teeth from behind me. The vase on the kitchen table wobbled with each thrust. Roses Ed gave to Lorraine after their anniversary last week.

I gripped the table for some semblance of support and did as he demanded. “Fuck me, please, I need you to take me.”

His gruff voice by my ear. “You feel so good, you succubus bitch. Don’t even have the dignity to feel guilty for tempting a man of god.”

I couldn’t help pushing myself up and turning my upper body toward him. “Ha, you’re weak of flesh, then.”

A smack to my ass, stinging even as his hand returned to the back of my neck. “Open your mouth,” his barely restrained anger distorting his voice, each thrust drove against the mouth of my womb, painful but so good. My eyes wide, trying to control my spasms each time he pounded my insides, I opened up.

With just a movement of his lips as warning, he spit in my mouth. The act of it was obscene, but I moaned before realising it, eyes unfocussed.

Each time he worked me over, I saw stars, and when my mind refocused, the normal, adoring Ed returned. He held me after, on the couch, legs slung over his, petting my head.

“It will be alright, don’t you worry, my little one,” he whispered softly as his steady movements brought me down from whatever high I was on.

“I’m still worried,” I said.

“No need, love.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. He was warm. His fingers smelled of newspaper ink, I kissed each of them. “We’re a strong team, and I’m so grateful you came to us.”

The demon showed a tenderness that Ed didn’t seem capable of when we were intimate.

“You’ve ruined my life,” I told the yellow eyes, before turning on my side, trying to sleep. Trying to refuse him with the little means I had against a demon.

“I’ve given you everything you wanted. I fulfil your every desire, and even now,” a clawed hand opened my legs, the shadow above me kissed its way down my neck, “after such mean words, I’ll satisfy you some more.”

“It’s only a matter of time before Lorraine finds out. Or I’ll tell her. And then I’ll be thrown out and you’ll lose your plaything.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through the hollow in my lungs. Mouth went down, spending extra time on each nipple, forked tongue flicking the sensitive nub, before licking down my stomach. “It’s amusing you think I’d let you go so easily. You’ll be by my side, as I sit on my throne in hell. I’ll have you then too, for the rest of eternity.”

I scoffed, before the words seeped in fully, then stopped. His tongue lapped at my heat, his hands keeping my hips steady.

“You’re too perfect like this.”

When Lorraine found out, it was somehow worse than I imagined. ‘It was the demon that corrupted us,’ said Ed, ‘I never wanted to. She looked just like you to me.’

And she believed him.

#ed warren x reader #valak x reader #ed warren #lorraine warren #demon x reader #the conjuring #the conjuring 2 #the nun #valak #slasher fandom #conjuring fanfic #slasher community #ed warren x lorraine warren #not real person fiction; this is based on the movies alone

896 notes · View notes

chibikyo · 7 months

Text

So unhinged thought about everyone's favorite skelly-face boi. You know, this one.

This is nsfw and kinda f*ed up so please understand before reading below that i have been thinking about about havik ripping of limbs and how to incorporate that into smut. You have been warned

Like, sex with him is definitely wild, definitely painful, definitely un-fucking-hinged and I'm trying to pre-plan my kinktober days so i can catch the fuck up and i had the thought that Havik + sex pollen would be incrediblly chaotic. He'd love the aphrodisiac effects, but hate being forced to have sex to recover.

But like, what if it's havik and a female reader and the only way to get the Pollen out of your t system is to be penetrated? So after reader and back fuck reader it's recovering but havik is still hard and feverish? They are in the middle of nowhere, probably outside and in an unfamiliar realm so no one around to fuck havik when they figure out the issue so reader has to use havik's own cock on him as a dildo

I think this would take too much at up for kinktober but if there is interest Id give it a try

(Also I dont mind doing female and/or trans ftm reader for it but I'm cis and ace and I am terrified I'll be like disrespectful accidently to the trans fan base so please if anyone wants to hit me up with tips for writing trans reader I'd like to feed everyone but i dont want to offend)

Anyway. That's my unhinged havik fic idea. Feel free to chime in with suggestions to maybe expand this and if it gets some likes I'll see if i can use it to hit my nanowrimo goal this year)

#havik #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk #mk havik #i have no idea what is wrong with me and at this point I'm to afraid to ask

40 notes · View notes

wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 28

Hello my darlings,

Welcome to TSD week 28! I read some stuff this week that is definitely going in my all time faves list, seriously. Y'all are amazing. I've got 14 fics for you this week!! (Joel Miller, Frankie/Santi, Ezra, Din Djarin, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips, Frankie Morales, Dieter/Javi P, Marcus Pike, Javier Peña). Summaries and tags are author provided unless they didn't have them (then I did it myself).

As always you can find all my fic recs here and my masterlist here

Recs under the Baby Cow Eyes

Cosmic Oddities - Din/Joel series by fromthewhales (Ao3)

Summary: Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other? (ed. note: this summary does not do this beautiful fic justice. READ IT). Tags: parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!joel miller, bi!din djarin

To be explored later - Frankie/Santi one shot by @legendary-pink-dot

Summary: You and your boyfriend Santi fuck his best friend Frankie and it's a little more MMF than you were expecting -- much to your delight Tags: Swearing, dirty talk, rough-ish sex, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), a couple of spanks, edging if you squint, also yearning m/m if you squint, unprotected PIV, snowballing, threesome, dom!Santi.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra one shot by @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Tags: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Release Your Inhibitions - Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold. Tags: canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n

Best in Show - Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing? Tags: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank.

Still Bejeweled - Joel one shot by @janaispunk

Summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember' Tags: no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), reader is described as smaller than joel and has hair long enough to pull, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling

Negotiations - Max Phillips one shot by @prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Tags: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

Under the Stars - Joel one shot by @undercoverpena

Summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. Tags: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel

Apotheosis - Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side. Tags: canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), manipulation/gaslighting, murder/minor character death, no use of y/n

Home - Frankie series by @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Tags: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Met the Devil Last Night - Joel one shot by @pedgito

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Tags: Porn with minuscule plot, if you willfem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation

Pearl Rosary - Din one shot by @sweetercalypso

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession Tags: public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

Good Boy - Dieter/Javi P one shot @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets cucked. That's it. That's the fic. Tags: cucking, PIV, creampie, oral sex f receiving, cum eating, PWP/plot what plot?, dom!Javi, sub!dieter, idk what reader is... having a good time?

Whatta Man - Marcus Pike series by @atinylittlepain

Summary: He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him. Tags: this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

----

Self Promo:

in the a.m. - javier peña loose fit series

Summary: Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs <3 Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, established situationship, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story, loose fit series, trauma, probably, sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, Javi very briefly picks you up, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst?

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

26 notes · View notes