#choose your own smut adventure

[lottiecrabie]

hiii You know who this is can i please please please have cyosa mutual masturbation i lost so hard every time but once and you know you love meeeee 😇😇😇😇

this is for you🫵you know who you are. I love you🫶

‘matty…’ you moan, half as a beg and half as a mindless need. he chuckles, opening your thighs for him, putting you on display. you’re so ready you might take him right now. 

matty’s hand still dances on your thigh, working higher and higher. your breath hitches, anticipating the fateful meeting. he whispers, smirking, ‘how about you show me how you do it?’

your cheeks flame at the idea. you clench your thighs, trapping him in place, embarrassed. he doesn’t seem too bothered. he revels in prying them open again, grazing the ready skin until you’re squirming.

‘why would i when you’re right here?’ as if to convince him, you reach for his leftover hand, dragging it to a pert breast. he chuckles. his finger rolls the nipple and you sigh, still holding onto his wrist.

‘i want to see,’ he says. ‘i want to learn.’ you groan, half from pleasure and half from shyness. you hide in your shoulder, arching your back into his hand in contradiction. again, a laugh falls from him. ‘how about i show you too?’

your eyes snap to him, suddenly interested. he kneels up, towering over your parting frame. his hand makes quick work of his belt— quicker than your hungry, shaking ones could have done. he draws his cock out without any hesitation, holding it at the base. your breath dies in your throat. you freeze under him.

‘i’m already hard,’ matty says. ‘don’t even have to think about you cause you’re already laying there like a fucking daydream.’

you grin, spreading your legs further, giving him a show. a tortured groan rasps out his throat. ‘fuck, love, you’re gorgeous.’ he strokes himself once, swiping his thumb over the tip. you lick your lips, though you do not feel the need to reach out and do it yourself. you want to relish in the spectacle.

you get him, now. he knows this. says, ‘show me.’

you don’t feel as shy. your hand grabs his own, puppeteering him so he pinches and rolls your peaked nipples just right. a broken moan comes out of you. in turn, he strokes faster.

‘i don’t like the before,’ you choke out. ‘i’d rather just get to it.’ it’s all the warning you give him before you plunge your hand between your folds, circling your clit.

‘shit,’ matty cries. ‘you’re not real.’ you hum, pinching the skin of his wrist mischievously, reveling in his little yelp. ‘what do you think about?’

you shrug, non-committed. ‘i like my mind blank.’ matty tsks and shakes his head. you almost want to laugh, but your fingers hit a sinful spot and you’re too busy whining out.

‘you’re doing it wrong,’ he breathes. his hand is still hard at work on himself. he needs to frown in concentration to get his thought out. ‘the before, the imagination— that’s what it’s all about. you won’t get a mind-blowing orgasm if you don’t involve your mind.’

‘do it, then,’ you whimper. ‘mindblow me.’

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. ‘i didn’t expect you to be lazy.’ the challenge works and you set your eyes, competitiveness bubbling in your chest. vengefully, you dip two fingers inside, watching as he slows his rhythm in quiet wonder.

you thrust in and out, angling your fingers until your legs twitch mindlessly. your nails dig into his skin, and it’s not even to send any kind of message. he’s wrong about the mind. you masturbate to get you off— off that tyrannical ride your head leads ruthlessly. this, the hot euphoria beating in your veins, the quiet moans, the shivering limbs, is what it’s about.

‘i’ll tell you, then,’ matty says. he seems close, pumping his cock fast and certain. his chest rises and falls, the tattooed planes of his stomach in perfect display. you want to spread a hand over it, want to descend down and replace his hand, want to— you thumb your clit and stop wanting.

‘i think about you, all pretty and hot and needy. never this perfect, though. god, you’re really not real— like a fucking frosted cupcake, all sweet for me.’ the words fizzle up your chest. pleasure strikes through you, doubly so, and you cry his name in sheer shock.

matty continues, ‘i think about you in the library, bending you over until i erase that little worried frown you have. make you suck my fingers so you keep quiet still. don’t want to get banned— still need you to ride my cock on those big chairs after all.’

‘oh, god,’ you whine. you rub your clit furiously, eyes rolling back, seemingly astral projected to the library. your lips part in quiet worship. ‘more,’ you beg him.

matty pinches your nipple, forcing you to look at him. ‘your turn.’

you pant, trying to use your brain when your fingers are deep and quick inside of you, when he’s hanging off with that swoopy hair over his forehead and those dark, hungry eyes. you’re drunk on the mere sight of him, and you start fearing how he’ll affect you when he’s the one thrusting inside you.

‘i—‘ your legs kick, helpless. ‘sometimes when we watched movies, i’d think about you eating me out on the couch.’

matty groans, scrunching his eyes like he’s imagining it. ‘yeah? what’d i do?’

‘just— you’d kneel in front of me, and you’d tell me to pay attention, and then you’d do it. devour me like you were starved. shush me when i got too loud, remind me to watch my smart, pretentious film.’

another broken cry slips out of him. he falls over you, though still holding himself up with an arm. your now free hand spread over his ribs, back, anything your greediness can find. both your fingers work in tandem between your bodies, a quiet union you’ve just now noticed. you roll your head, hit his wrist. ‘matty…’

‘i thought about you asking me to fuck you before,’ matty admits offhandedly, lost in his pleasure. your fingers press into his working shoulder, mean. ‘fuck, i almost believed i was imagining when you really did ask me. figured i was going crazy.’

you twist your head, kissing his wrist over and over, tiny presses of love you don’t dare say. your tongue sticks out and licks it all up before it stays and means something. ‘again,’ you moan, feeling yourself get closer. your hips rise for your strained digits. your body hums in warning.

‘i want to come on your stomach. want to mark your skin— god, need it. need to see you all pretty with my cum, make you all messy. show you’re mine.’

‘matty,’ you scream, pumping your fingers just right.

’need to see you come, too. break apart so you’re not so perfect. my pristine, pretty girl, drooling for me, screaming my name, working those little fingers…’

‘fuck—‘

‘you’re doing so well for me,’ he promises. his hand has lost any sense of regular rhythm, pumping with desperate abandon instead. ‘just like i though,’ he says, full of wonder. he seems so gone you’d figure he’s all in his head, but matty stares at you like he could lick up the frost off the cupcake. ‘of course you’d listen. of course you’d do just i say.’

‘fuck, i need—‘ it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t get to say, a shattering orgasm taking you instead.

you open your jaw and dig your teeth in matty’s wrist, biting down the yells as waves of pure ecstasy shake through you. your head, never quite unattached before, blanks with the force of pleasure. you say his name, you think. or maybe not. in the end, you don’t think at all, and it is glorious.

matty’s close after you, screaming out your name shamelessly. the ropes of white cum hit your stomach and he draws out his last trembles before he falls atop you with a sigh.

your head’s all fuzzy as you lay there. ‘oh,’ you finally say once you regain speech. you trace a finger over his back, staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. oh, this is what it’s supposed to be.

‘yeah,’ matty murmurs in your hair. because he understands, of course he does. your lungs feel full and heavy.

he finally rises and you catch a glance to the mess between your two bodies. the cum is painted over both of your stomach. though matty doesn’t even bother wiping it off before he smirks, kissing down your sternum. his eyes flash up at you, full of mischief. ‘so you want me to eat you out, huh?’

[fuzzygoblin]

Everyday It's A Getting Closer...

Presenting r/GoodOmensAfterDark Writers Guild: Coming Home - A Choose Your Own Adventure Companion Bingo Card!

A tantalising hint at what awaits you down your chosen path. Content Warnings included where applicable.

How to play

Make a line in any direction

Complete a cross or square

Discover every possible eventuality!

@goodomensafterdark @doonarose @nosferatini @paperclipninja

[myosotisa]

‖ tags: smut, somnophilia, size kink, p in v, praise kink

‖ word count: 380

the two of you have had sex 3 times and you've never been able to take all of him because you just get too in your head about how huge he is. he's so patient with you, never rushing you, prioritizing your comfort over anything else. making suggestions to try to make it better, or saying he'll just fuck you with half so it doesn't hurt you, or that the two of you don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to.

you feel bad, self conscious, slightly ashamed, apologetic. he assures you it's more than fine, sex with you is amazing even if you can't take all of him. but. he knows it's all in your head. he knows your body can take it. he asks if you trust him and of course you say you do.

you wake up on your stomach, naked from the waist down and your shirt rolled up to your armpits. it's hot and sweaty and disorienting but holy shit what is that feeling?!

"there she is," he says in a deep voice, rough from how quiet he's trying to be. "good morning beautiful"

you go to say good morning back but it's cut off with an unexpected moan, a feeling deep inside you shifting. "feel that?" he murmurs, sounding a bit cheeky but so utterly pleased. to make his point more clear he rolls his hips, adjusting his thick cock inside you, and holy fucking shit he's balls deep.

"knew you could take it, baby," he says proudly when you gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets beneath you. he pulls back an inch or two and pushes back in, your back arching as you let out a choked moan. he's so deep, you've never felt anything like this before.

"just had to take your big, nervous brain out of the equation. knew it the whole time - your pussy was begging for it, crying for it. and now you're soaking me, sh-iiit, like you were made for my fat cock," he groans, continuing to slowly shift in and out of you, your muscles clenching around him on each drive forward. "so fucking perfect baby. just keep taking it like a champ and I promise to make you feel so good you'll never worry about me fucking you like this ever again."

[hanasnx]

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩𓆩 ❝ stranded. ❞ 𓆪𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

-ˏˋ꒰ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE - ! ꒱ PART ONE ✩ PART TWO ✩ PART THREE MINORS DNI 18+ SUMMARY: be a part of the story! vote on the poll at the bottom. WARNINGS: your vote affects how the story continues | the winning decision affects how the story ends | f!reader | eventual smut | semi-established relationship | romance | suggestive | eventual conflict.

! ── PREVIOUSLY: You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER are stranded on a seemingly deserted planet. He asks you how to proceed because he trusts your judgement.

You consider his question, rubbing your bottom lip thoughtfully with your finger. The responsibility he’s given you is not one you take lightly, and you phase through the options until you decide the smartest route. “Where’s your communicator?”

Anakin's lips press together as he nods. It’s uncharacteristically submissive of him to relinquish control like that, and part of you wonders if this is his way of calming your nerves caused by the situation. He retrieves the communicator in question from his sea of robes, and when his gloved hands brings it to both of your views, it sparks.

He flinches, protecting his eyes from the device if it sees fit to explode in his hand. Fingers fiddle nimbly with its buttons, and its silence doesn’t bode well for your plans. You approach him, watching the little mechanism sit idly in the palm of his hand. “Can you repair it?” you ask, peering up at him. He doesn’t look at you.

“We’ll have to find out.”

As he works on it, you lose track of time, but the sun does not forgive. It beats down on the two of you as you try to shade yourselves in the minuscule shadow of your totaled ship. He remains in his uniform, and beads of sweat fatly roll down his forehead. That concentrated crease in his brow makes him look older than he actually is, glaring down at the communicator as he pinches wiring together with his meticulous touch. You swallow, mouth dry, and you incline into his direction.

“Anakin, maybe you should shed some layers—“ you begin to suggest, laying a familiar hand on his arm. He tenses under your contact, and perks up at attention to hear someone call out.

“You two look a long way from home.” a gutty and baritone voice leers, and Anakin’s jaw sets. His lightsaber is hidden from view by his robings. “Did’yer ship take a tumble?” The joking tone goes unappreciated as the two of you raise your heads to see a native of the planet. Relief washes over you that you aren't alone, but Anakin does not seem convinced, wary this local is unfriendly. He's seated high up on an animal with flat feet and spindly legs, one you don't recognize at all. Its trunk is stout, and wiggles absently as it disinterestedly awaits its owner to decide on whether or not to pass on. The native wears thin clothes with a strap across his chest, the bag of water sloshing at his side as he swings to a halt against his hip.

"Engine failure." Anakin replies, vague and curt. It's a lie, and one you bite your tongue on correcting. Your eyes meander the large stranger, a flat bedded wagon with heaps of fabrics is hauled by his mount, but you know those veils are just to conceal whatever he's got underneath them. "Is there a town around here?"

The local leans forward on his saddle, propping himself up on the grip with an amused and removed grin. "Naw, not for miles." Out of the corner of your view, Anakin's hand slowly disappears under his robe. "Why don't you climb aboard? I'll take you in. S'long as I get what's left of yer ship."

Anakin glances to you, but ultimately decides he'll work on the communicator during the ride. His saber remains clipped to his belt, hidden. However, his senses aren't dulled. There's something about this stranger that tells him he can't get too comfortable, but this is progress. Regardless if there's a town at all. The two of you collect the emergency supplies from the vessel, and climb aboard the wagon. It sinks into the sand from the extra weight, but when he spurs his mount on, she doesn't have a problem in tugging it.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself, the name's Drice. S'lucky I came through, followed the smoke trail of your ship. Can smell it on the two of you." You and Anakin exchange eye contact, silently agreeing he'll be talkative the entire trip. "Yep, this nose never lies." His finger raises to tap-tap the side of his nostril. "What were y'all headed for? Before, y'know, the 'engine failure.'" You furrow your brows at the way he quotes the statement, as if he's suspicious Anakin was dishonest. "I could'a taken a look at it if it didn't have such a rough landing. S'lucky I want the parts. I'm a mechanic by trade."

Anakin doesn't respond, instead fishes out the communicator to continue his inspection. Its guts spill out, and he carefully pools it onto his lap. "The Adega system." he replies, again another lie.

Drice emits a noise of confusion. "That's a long way to travel for a ship that size."

"That's likely why we crashed." Anakin responds, and you can hear in his voice that growing annoyance.

The reticence from the back of his vehicle unnerves the local, and he continues to try to muster up some conversation. "You two are real cute together, y'know. A real pair. How long have y'all been together?"

Anakin's gaze flickers to you.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[gamerwoman3d]

Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader

Part One Here

Previous Part Here

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

Your clit stuck out in the air and wiggled up and down, seemingly of its own volition as he sucked it into his invisible mouth. You yelped as a crimp in the smooth flesh above your clit coincided with the overwhelming sensation of him catching and gently holding it between his teeth as he flicked his tongue over the head. You felt the pads of two firm fingertips press inside your pussy to reach for your gspot. You screamed when he found it, drowning out his low, pleased hum. He pressed the sound into you for a moment. The strokes of his fingers grew more devastating. 

“please please please let me see you, don't make me cum until I can see you, let me see you, Tomáš,” you begged.

He slurped, and your overextended clit snapped back into place. The lips below your clit felt heavy and lonesome and hot between your legs without his mouth pressed to them.

“You're going to get us caught, cutie,” he said.

You lamented aloud at the loss of his touch. 

“Shh, stand up,” he said, “stand up, and touch yourself”

“touch myself?” you whispered.

His invisible hands roamed over your body, lifting, encouraging you to stand on shaky legs. One hand left wet trails of your juices along your skin.

“Mmmhmm, I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you. I can fuck you, right? I found you, I won, so I can fuck the sweet little pussy? Can I? Can I fuck the sweet little pussy?” he asked.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” you agreed.

You stood up. Your panties dropped to the floor, slid off by unseen hands. You felt him, hard and naked, press himself behind you.

“Oh god, you're naked- lemme see, let me see,” you keened.

He giggled. You could see indentions in your skin where his thumbs pressed into your hip bones.

“No,” he teased, “Use your imagination. You still think I'm nice? I sneak up on you, hard and naked and you think I'm nice? You're so sweet. Sweet as your little pussy. Use your imagination.”

He pulled your hips back, and let his heavy cock slide against your clit. He encouraged you to touch yourself and let him fuck you standing.  Flat footed, you bent your knees and arched your back to take him in. You could feel his warm, firm, bare legs shuffle against the backs of your thighs.  He reached around to force your hand to rub yourself harder, using his arm to brace you against him. The sweet muffled groans and shuddering, overwhelmed vocalizations he made against your neck were delicious as your cunt suckled his shaft.

“Oh ho, this is so tight, tight sweet little pussy… you like it when strange men come up behind you naked? That's sexy, its so good. You still think I'm nice. You like being taken. And you're loud, you're so loud, I love hearing it, be louder,” he uttered, slightly louder than a whisper.

You shamelessly moaned and bashed your ass back against him, chasing after that feeling of heavy pulsing cock deep within your inner walls. He gripped you for dear life and panted into your ear. Every breath was tinted with a tiny growing whimper.

[Cutoff point here is subject to future changes as I figure out wtf to do with parts 4+]

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

ok but here's an idea:

There is no one in the world you despise as much as you despise Ghost. His whole mask thing. The whole fucking mystery persona he keeps. How his voice is like, a couple fucking octaves lower than other men. He is annoying.

There is also no one in the world who fucks you like Ghost. He knows to find your clitoris without a map and a compass. He knows what buttons to press. He screws you nasty, just like you need.

[theharrowing]

Carnival of Terror 🎪 1: Right place at the right time

The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

🎪 Yoongi x Female Reader

🎪 word count: 6.1k

🎪 choose your own adventure, lovers and friends to ???, carnival and circus au, dead dove, horror, possible minor & major character injury & death, supernatural elements & magic realism, nsfw, 21+

🎪 warnings: dramarama within the friend group; general sense of the vibes being off; description of clowns, jesters & acrobats; hypnosis without consent.

🎪 note: all of the above details and warnings are subject to change as the story progresses & the readers vote. check the master post for an updated version of the details.

🎪 beta read by @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons. additional shout out to @sweetestofchaos & @echotoyou & @here4kpopfics for being brainstorm pals!

🎪 posted sept. 2023 | read on ao3

INDEX | NEXT

As you peer out across the massive gravel lot and take in just how isolated this place is, you feel deeply unsettled down to your bones. So when two large hands crash onto your shoulders and squeeze, you jump, unable to hold in a squeal. Dulcet, amused laughter dances in the air, and you turn to watch your friends Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk step off the shuttle to the gravel and dirt road. 

“Not funny,” you grumble, doing your best to look back and glare at Yoongi, whose palms continue to linger on your shoulders, gently rubbing small circles over your back. 

“Come on,” Yoongi mutters playfully. “It was a little funny.”

Off in the distance, in the dead center of the enormous, otherwise empty lot, are large red and white circus tents surrounded by what appear to be various carnival rides and attractions, fenced in by a sprawling, winding metal gate. A plume of fire shoots out of what appears to be the center of the tents, followed by distant screams and cheers, and you instinctively pull your shoulders to your ears. 

“This place creeps me the fuck out,” you grumble under your breath. 

“Well, if you hate it, you can blame Jeongguk,” Yoongi unhelpfully supplies, to which Jeongguk quickly snaps, “Oh, fuck off, hyung.”

Since the moment you got onto the shuttle this morning, Yoongi and Jeongguk have been at odds. And although it seems playful on Yoongi's end, there appears to be a genuine animosity coming from Jeongguk that you do not have the context for. You are also not attempting to mediate between bickering friends on a day like today, and you hope that once you are within the carnival grounds and distracted by fun, games, fried food, and beer, everyone will get along. 

As your group congregates on the gravel path, you feel a little silly for deciding to come dressed similarly, all wearing various shades of blue. It seemed like a fun idea this morning, but as you glance at all your friends, you realize that the five of you look like a pack of blueberries left to sit out in the sun. At least it is a stunning color on all of you. 

Both Yoongi and Jeongguk have shorter dark brown hair with their bangs parted delicately on their foreheads, and they are outfitted in deeper shades of blue, both long-sleeve button-ups. Yoongi's shirt has pale blue horizontal stripes on the front with solid sleeves, tucked into skinny black jeans. He wears long silver earrings that make his already soft, pretty face – his pouty doll lips and button nose – seem more delicate. 

Jeongguk's shirt is solid greenish-blue and loose-fitting, untucked over skinny black jeans, and he wears a black, emerald, and white striped satin scarf loosely tied beneath his lapels. Despite his sour attitude toward Yoongi, he still has a youthful glow behind his round, curious eyes, and his sharp, but pouty lips are almost always upturned into a hint of a smile. 

Jimin and Taehyung – the two who are so close everyone refers to them as the soulmates of the group – are in brighter tones. Jimin wears a loose, long-sleeve, flowy blue button-up tucked into tight black slacks. His hair is short and dark brown, unstyled over his forehead, and his features are an astounding blend of pillow soft and razor-sharp, with dark eyes that alternate between piercing your soul and warming your heart. 

Taehyung – always a bit of an oddball – wears an unbuttoned, long-sleeve baby blue jacket over a white long-sleeve button-up shirt with a blue windowpane pattern and matching loose-fitting slacks. He is equally stunning with deep brown eyes and rectangular lips that always seem to frown ever so slightly. His dark brown hair is beginning to grow into a soft mullet that hangs just above his eyes in the front, and below his ears in the back. 

Your deep blue satin long-sleeve button-up is tucked into tight, stretchy black slacks. Unlike all the men, who wear a variation of black leather boots – aside from Taehyung, whose boots are white – you have on a pair of solid black sneakers. The only jewelry you wear is a tiny silver chain with a silver sunflower pendant – a gift Yoongi gave you for your recent birthday – and your makeup is minimal, just a little to bring out your eyes. The top two buttons of your shirt are undone with a mesh bra underneath that gives absolutely no support but makes your tits look amazing. 

Yoongi's hand brushes over the small of your back, and you take a fortifying breath. With the shuttle pulling away and everyone who rode out to the carnival grounds meandering toward the entrance, you concede that your group may as well head in that direction, as well. 

"What time does the shuttle return?" you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket to glance at the time. Your gaze flits to the to top of the screen, where it is clear you will likely have no service out here, causing you to sigh. It is currently 12:13 PM.

"Midnight," Taehyung responds softly, walking a few paces ahead. 

Midnight. Just great. You knew, going into this, that it was going to be a long day, but now you are unsure whether there will be enough for the five of you to do during the next nearly-twelve-hours. 

"No service, no way home, in the middle of nowhere," you grumble, shoving your phone back into your pocket. "Lovely."

To your right, past Yoongi and a few paces ahead, you notice Jeongguk frowning. He opens his mouth to respond, but must decide not to, because he has nothing to say. This whole thing was his idea, and at the time it seemed fun, and you know that you should probably lay off a little before you hurt the poor guy's feelings. 

"Ah, cheer up!" Yoongi says, squeezing your hip. "We'll find some alcohol in there and loosen up. You'll have a good time, I promise. Besides, the more you complain, the more it will make our little Ggukie sad."

Jeongguk scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

"But he's so cute when he pouts," Jimin teases over his right shoulder, voice deep and playful.

"Shut up," Jeongguk mutters, though there is a hint of a smile.

Taehyung looks over his right shoulder, past Jimin, and grins, voice even deeper and cotton-soft as he says, "It's true."

Your laughter is quiet and fleeting, but it works its way through your chest, making you feel lighter. Perhaps it is the nature of carnivals and circuses that always fill you with anxious trepidation, and that is why you feel unshakably unsettled – as if something foreboding looms thick and oppressive around you. After all, there is a theme of illusion and trickery in these types of events, and the possibility leaves you more nervous than excited.

Gravel crunches underfoot, and the closer you get to the carnival grounds, the more it seems to grow into something gargantuan. Along the outside of the metal gate are large posters of two men – the brothers who run the show. You have seen their handsome faces plastered all over the advertisements, but seeing them in larger-than-life-sized posters is somewhat intimidating. 

They both wear deep red ringleader suits with white undershirts and matching red slacks, and across the tops of each poster are the words The Kim Brothers' Carnival Bizarre. One man – the leader of the show, Kim Namjoon – stands with his arms crossed over his chest, while the other – Kim Seokjin – has open arms and a wide, welcoming smile on his handsome face. 

"Do you really think those two run this show?" Jimin asks. He has stopped in front of Namjoon and stares up at his poster with his hands on his hips. "How is someone this sexy in charge of a traveling circus? Aren't these things, like…I don't know…dirty?"

"They probably stay in hotels," Taehyung mutters under his breath. "But the rest of the workers might sleep in tents or something. I don't know."

"It's one night only," Jeongguk adds. "So it's possible that they all pack up and go somewhere with clean water to sleep for the night."

You begin to grumble, "Isn't that expensive," under your breath, but trail off as you take in the sights all around you. 

Sure, there seems to be a lot to maintain for something like this, and there must be a great number of employees to feed, but events like this always cost an exorbitant amount to attend. The ticket alone was expensive enough that you had to budget for a couple weeks leading up to today. Factor in the large crowds of people and all the concessions, games, and rides, and you can understand how these two brothers could be walking away with a nice stack of money. 

"You'd be surprised," Yoongi responds, but does not explain himself; probably he knows that he has no need to – that you are likely to sort out the details as you stare past the metal gates and into the sprawling space. 

There is a tall man dressed in all black who stands beside the entrance, and Jeongguk approaches with a pep in his step, taking out his cell phone. You wonder whether Jeongguk has service or if he had the foresight to screencap the barcode that gains the five of you entrance. Either way, the man uses a device to scan his screen, and a loud beep is followed by a buzzing sound, as a hip-high metal gate swings open, and the five of you walk inside. 

Jeongguk leads, followed by Jimin, Taehyung, you, and Yoongi. Once the metal gate creaks shut behind you, Yoongi's arms drape over your shoulders. He mutters, "We are trapped inside," then groans a deep, "oooohhhhhh," right behind your ear that gives you chills, both because the atmosphere of this place – even in the hot, afternoon sun – is fucking creepy, and because Yoongi's deep voice and warm breath on your neck always spark something carnal and needy inside you. 

"What should we do first?" Jeongguk asks, turning to you with wide eager eyes before his gaze falls to Yoongi's arms dangling over your shoulders, causing him to turn to the others. 

"Beer," Yoongi grumbles at the same time Jimin shouts, "Food!" and Taehyung offers, "Find a ticket booth?"

You chuckle and wiggle away from Yoongi's hold – a task which he does not make easy. "Food and drinks?" you recommend, while glancing around. "Maybe we'll spot a ticket booth along the way?"

Now that you are inside the carnival grounds, the layout of the place is clearer, but also much more intimidating. Three massive circus tents are in the center, and surrounding them are various game booths and rides. There seem to be funhouse attractions and larger game booths under tent awnings along the edge of the grounds, near the tall metal fences, and smaller concession stands in the center of the wide gravel path. One building nearby says Tunnel of Love, and another says Hall of Mirrors, and you cannot help but roll your eyes over how trite it all feels. 

There also seems to be a sort of fog clouding your mind, making it difficult for you to focus on any one thing for too long before wanting to turn your attention elsewhere, and you blame it on nerves.

"I think I see a food truck this way," Taehyung offers, pointing off to the left, near the hall of mirrors. 

As soon as food is mentioned, you swear the smell of deep-fried batter hits your nose, and you find yourself instinctively turning in that direction. It has been hours since you have eaten, and suddenly, you feel ravenous.

Taehyung and Jimin take the lead, and you begin to walk forward, out of the carnival entrance and into the space that this event occupies. Music plays – horns blaring and keys chiming at a quick, exciting tempo. You pause as you step forward, body and mind suddenly confused. Was there music playing before? Had you not noticed it? 

This particular event is marketed as not being safe for children, and as you look around, all you see are adults. But the concessions, games, and rides are all those that you would expect to find at a circus or county fair swarming with kids, and you are surprised to walk past booths and find adults excitedly pointing to which large stuffed animals they would like to cash in their winnings for. 

"Checking out the prizes?" Yoongi asks close enough to your ear to make you flinch. 

"No," you mutter, turning your gaze away. 

You had been looking at the rows of plushies, but playing fair games is not your style, and you do not want to be burdened with carrying something around for the duration of the day. A laugh follows a hand rubbing over your lower back, and you let your eyes flutter closed for just a moment as you take a fortifying breath. 

"Why are you so jumpy?" Yoongi asks. 

"I don't know," you respond, allowing your gaze to dance over shooting games and feats of strength. Each individual booth has its own raucous sounds and music, with someone dressed as an old-timey hobo shouting to their customers. "I just feel overwhelmed."

"You seemed keen on the idea of a carnival all week."

Yoongi is best when he is like this: soft-spoken and concerned. No quips meant to jab at his friends, nor undertones to make the little hairs on your neck stand tall. You lean toward his body heat and allow him to squeeze you in a side hug before you continue to walk forward with the group. 

"I was," you say as your gaze falls to the gravel and dirt path under your feet. The smell of food is much stronger, and you take a deep inhale through your nose, letting the heavy, semi-sweet aroma fill your lungs. "There's just something so foreboding about going to the absolute middle of nowhere, with no way home. I understand not wanting to deal with having a lot full of cars, but it just seems strange to force everyone here by shuttle. What if something happens, and we're all trapped here?"

You know that you sound paranoid, and you are actually a bit shocked when Yoongi does not tease you for it. 

"I'm sure nothing will happen," he responds calmly. "I'm sure these traveling shows are prepared for the worst. There were medical tents advertised on a map near the entrance, so if we need any kind of first aid, they have us covered."

You do not recall seeing a map by the entrance, but you are also not at your most observant. Thankfully, there is always someone in your group who is on top of things, and that someone is usually Yoongi, and often Taehyung.

As you look up, you see a large food truck smack dab in the center of the wide gravel path, surrounded by people standing in line and waiting for their orders. You feel an instant sense of disappointment and impatience, which you blame partially on your need to eat something. 

Jimin is first to begin skipping over to the end of the line, and you follow behind, lacking his enthusiasm. The truck is massive compared to ones you are used to, and you hope that with all the extra space, there are plenty of employees inside to make orders come out quickly. 

Your antsiness must show, because Jeongguk – who had also skipped excitedly to the line – leans toward you to say, "We can grab you guys something if you would rather walk around. We don't all have to wait in this line."

"It's fine," you respond, but the tone of your voice suggests that it is anything but fine. 

"Come on," Yoongi says, yanking you away from the line, toward a booth several feet away. "We can play this little rubber ducky game in the shade while they wait for food in the hot sun.”

A smile creeps over your face, and you nod, allowing Yoongi to drag you off to the shade, under a large tent awning with a small game booth inside. As soon as you are out of the sun, your shoulders relax, and you feel a lot better. 

"It doesn't take five of us to order, anyway," Yoongi says softly. "And I finally get a chance to have you all to myself."

Again, with the inviting tone, which you struggle to ignore now that the others are no longer within earshot. You turn your head but keep your eyes on the kiddie pool of multicolored rubber duckies floating in a slow circle as you say, "You had me all to yourself last night," in a low, teasing tone.

"And this morning," Yoongi responds, leaning close, causing your heart to flutter and your thighs to briefly clench.

Your cheeks warm, and you nibble on your lip, watching as the rubber ducks move round and round, determined not to look at Yoongi and allow him to see the effect he is having on you. There is a pastel pink one that catches your eye, and you reach for it as soon as Yoongi hands over some notes of money. 

Written on the bottom of the duck is the number seven, and you turn it to face the person standing behind the counter, who takes it from your hand to inspect. The attendee is a tall, thin man dressed head to toe in black, with a piercing on the bridge of his nose. He wears smudged black eyeliner, and when he smiles at you, his long, sharp features turn soft and pretty. 

"Seven, hmm…" the attendee says as he tilts his head and widens his eyes. "Not many know to reach for a seven. Those prizes are special, so you have to choose wisely."

"Special, huh?" you ask, feeling excitement build, unable to fathom what could possibly be special about a cheap carnival trinket. 

The man turns to his left and walks over to a shelf to your right that you walk around to see into. As soon as you round the corner, you feel the urge to laugh; the trinkets are the same as those in the front shelf, and there hardly seems to be anything special about them. 

"These are different from those?" you ask, pointing between the shelves with a playful tone. 

The attendee hums, "Mmhmm," watching you with a curious, excited expression. 

Sitting in little plastic bins are paper finger traps, plastic kazoos, large jawbreaker candies, little metal whistles, mirrors with paintings of tigers and dragons on them, and little yellow bird keychain plushies. Nothing particularly grabs your attention, yet you find yourself struggling to make a choice. 

Jawbreakers were a favorite of yours growing up, but they get sticky too fast. And although you like the novelty of the painted mirrors, you do not want to carry one around all day. So, you point to the keychain plushies from above, and say, "I'll take one of these."

The man slides open a glass door and reaches into the case. He retrieves the exact plushie below where you point, and places it gently in front of you. 

"I hope this trinket brings you luck," he says with a grin, and you find your gaze flitting nervously between the man and the toy before grabbing it and giving it a gentle squeeze. The yellow fur of the bird is soft in your hold, and it reminds you of a tiny duckling. 

"Sick!" Yoongi exclaims from your left, making you chuckle. He reaches for the toy, and you hand it over, turning to watch him inspect the small yellow bird between his long fingers. "You should wear it on your belt loop," he says, and before you have a chance to agree or not, he opens the little metal fastener that it dangles from and clips it onto your left hip.

"Perfect," you say with a smile as you inspect your new toy. Warmth spreads, and you feel a little more relaxed about this whole thing; maybe the carnival is not so bad, and happiness can be collected and appreciated, one adorable plushie at a time. 

"Thank you for playing," the man behind the counter says, and you glance up as he winks and walks off, leaving a different attendant to watch over the game. 

"Thank you," you mutter under your breath because it feels like the polite thing to do, then you turn to exit the stall and return to your friends, who are much further in line. 

Yoongi slings an arm over your shoulder, causing you to blaze hot in the afternoon sun, but you enjoy his warmth as he steers you near the front of the line. 

"We're thinking about getting a pizza to share and some corn dogs," Jimin says without greeting you, and you nod, approving of their choices. 

"They have beer, wine, and fruity seltzers," Taehyung adds. "Personally, I think we should get two pitchers of beer."

Yoongi squeezes your shoulder and slides his hand away to reach for his wallet. "Sounds good to me," he says, pulling out some cash.

Jeongguk stands behind the soulmates with his eyes on your bird plushie. Then his gaze snaps to yours, and he roves his eyes around as if feeling awkward about being caught staring. "It's cute," he mutters, eyes falling to your trinket once more. 

"Apparently, it will bring her good luck," Yoongi teases, giving your arm a nudge with his elbow, which annoys you enough to shove him away with an elbow of your own. 

Past the food truck line, there is a large open space with picnic tables, and you nod to it with your chin, leaning to Yoongi as you ask, "Should we go find a spot to sit?"

"Preferably with shade!" Jimin chimes in, and you nod; shade is a must.

"We'll be right over here," you say as you point, and the others mutter their approval and approach the counter to give their order. 

To get to the open area, you have to pass through the food line, which is rather crowded, and you mutter, "Excuse me," and "Sorry," as you squeeze past people. And although most tables in the shade are taken, there is one at the far end, below a large tree, and you move a little faster in its direction to secure it before anyone else has a chance to. 

As you approach the table, you find your attention stolen by the tree. Up close, it is massive, looming high with twisted branches that appear sharp, like talons upon which large green leaves dangle. 

"Creepy," Yoongi grumbles, and you nod, uttering a quiet, "Uh-huh."

"I'm impressed there's a tree like this out here," he continues as he rounds the table to sit with his back to it. You opt to take the seat across from him. "This place is pretty barren."

As you look past the metal gate to your left, you see what Yoongi means. There are grassy areas here and there, and in the far distance, there are shrubs and eventually trees. But, as far as you can tell, this giant one stands on its own. A chill runs down your spine; creepy, indeed. 

The rest of the group joins, with Jeongguk gripping the handles of two pitchers of beer in one hand and carrying a stack of clear plastic cups in the other, followed by Taehyung holding a pizza box, and Jimin holding a cardboard tray of corn dogs. Taehyung and Jimin sit on Yoongi's side of the table, and Jeongguk sits to your right. 

"What's up with the tree?" Jeongguk asks as he begins to pour beer into each plastic cup. 

Taehyung looks over his shoulder, then grumbles, "It's kind of scary," sporting a disapproving frown.

With a sigh, Jimin looks over his shoulder, then he straightens out, rolling his eyes. "It's just a tree. Thanks for finding us a spot in the shade!"

Although the food is definitely not peak quality, it hits the spot. That, plus the beer, has you feeling full and a bit dizzy, and you anchor your palm to the wooden seat and lean slightly to your right, toward Jeongguk. The wind carries hints of his floral, musky scent, which you have always found to be pleasant. 

"What should we do first?" Yoongi asks, and you turn to your right to look around, catching Jeongguk's eye, instead. 

"I like the hall of mirrors," Jeongguk says, looking down at your hand that rests inches from him, then up at the others. 

"Tunnel of love," Jimin sing-songs playfully. 

Taehyung looks at his phone, then says, "There's an illusion show at 1:30 that we should see."

"That sounds cool," Yoongi says as he tilts his head, looking at you, then at Jeongguk, and back. "What about you?"

You shrug, unsure what you would like to do. 

"I suppose we should try to see the scheduled shows," you reason. "Then we can decide what to do in between."

It is close enough to 1:30 that the five of you down the rest of the beer and stand from the table with tandem groans. Stretching feels good, and you lift your arms over your head and yawn. Taehyung gathers the trash on top of the pizza box, and Jeongguk picks up the pitchers, following Taehyung toward a large waste receptacle, on top of which is a space for the pitchers. 

"I think the show is under the largest tent," Taehyung says as your group exits the space and walks toward the red and white striped tents. 

"This place is huge," Yoongi says as his fingers find yours, tickling enough to make you jerk your hand away before allowing him to grab and hold it. 

"Good thing we coordinated," Jimin chirps happily, looking down at his blue shirt, then at Taehyung's light blue jacket. "Don't need any of us getting lost."

The carnival space truly is massive, and as you approach the large tents, you feel somewhat overwhelmed. The two smaller ones are about as tall as a small house, and the large one is at least twice its size. Just walking in a circle around the carnival grounds must take quite a while, and you begin to wonder if you will even get to see everything there is to see before midnight. 

Beside the entrance of the tent is the man who ran the rubber duck game, only this time, he is head to toe in white. His long-sleeved shirt crosses over his torso and tucks into loose-fitting pants, and he wears chunky white boots and a hat with long white ears that hang to his hips. Although he does not appear to recognize you, you smile widely anyway. 

"Here for the illusions show?" the man asks, and you nod, saying, "There's five of us."

The man lifts his hands and holds out a stack of black cards adorned with a gold leaf design of a skull pierced through with a dagger. "You must pick a card," he says, eyes drifting over your group. 

You swallow thickly and reach for one of the center cards, taking it by the corner between your thumb and index finger and gently tugging, then you flip it over to reveal the image of a skeleton dressed in a black robe. It holds a sword in one hand and a gold cup in the other, and around it are various symbols, including a glowing infinity sign above its head. The Magician is written along the bottom in gold, and you rub your thumb over the slightly raised text. 

One by one, your friends all pick cards. Yoongi laughs as he reads, "The Fool," aloud, and you lean in to see a similar robed skeleton figure on his, depicted carrying a basket. 

Taehyung frowns as he reads, "Death," showing the same cloaked skeleton with its hands crossed over its chest, and Jimin's eyes light up as he says, "The Hanged Person," revealing the familiar skeleton hanging by its ankles from a rope. The only card that differs in theme is Jeongguk's, which depicts a crumbling tower being struck by lightning. 

The man in white reaches out, taking Jeongguk's card first. "The Tower," he says, "upheaval, sudden change, and chaos. Very good – embrace that. And yours," he takes Jimin's card. "Ah, The Hanged Person. Surrender, letting go, and new perspectives. A fine card; full of promise. Let's see, here," he says, reaching for Taehyung's card, glancing up at your frowning friend with a sympathetic smile. "Don't let Death scare you. They symbolize endings, transition, and transformation, which can seem intimidating, but these things are vital for the human experience."

Taehyung hums under his breath and shoves his hands into his pockets as the man in white steps closer, reaching for Yoongi's card. "The Fool," he says, glancing up with a grin. "Innocence, new beginnings, and spontaneity. Is this true?"

Yoongi blinks, then shrugs, and says, "I suppose so."

The man hums and says, "Jumping into new things may be fun, but try not to dive head-first too often. You never know what could be lurking in the depths."

With an amused scoff, Yoongi responds, "Alright."

"And you, my dear, what have we here?" the man asks, reaching toward your hands. 

"The magician," you mutter, handing the card over.

"The magician," the man responds with a wide smile, studying your face. His eyes fall to your hands, then past them to the bird plushie on your side. "Cute," he says, cocking his head to the side, and you watch him, feeling puzzled; how could he have already forgotten about you winning the trinket less than an hour ago? Have so many people played the rubber duck game?

"Power, manipulation, and action," the man says, lifting his wide, coal-smudged eyes to yours. "How does it make you feel?"

"Uh, w-well, I suppose—" you stammer, attempting to find the words. Then you mutter, "I don't know. I guess I don't feel anything."

The man hums, says, "You will," and winks before turning toward the entrance to the tent. 

As the man lifts the tent flap, he looks over your shoulder and shouts, "Last call for the illusions show! Line starts here!"

"Jack!" a voice calls from within the tent, and the man in white turns to look over his shoulder, into the darkness. He converses with whoever caught his attention, but you cannot see who that person is. 

When the man in white – presumably named Jack – turns back, he catches your eye and says, "We have five remaining VIP spots. Come this way and follow Seokjin hyung."

You hesitate to step forward when a man in a blood-red suit comes stepping into view, who you recognize instantly as Kim Seokjin, one of the two brothers who run the event. Seokjin is somehow more stunning in person, with his dark hair swept off his forehead, revealing a piercing gaze and welcoming smile. And when he stands tall and gestures with his hand, saying, "Come this way!" his presence is commanding.

You follow, stepping into the dimly lit tent as Seokjin leads you around to the right, past tall wooden bleachers atop which people are chattering and finding their seats. "Just a little further," he says over his shoulder, leading you deeper into the space.

Coming out from between bleachers ahead is a glowing gold light, and Seokjin leads you toward it, then takes a left, into it. You squint as soon as you turn, hit by bright spotlights that are bursting from the center of the ring, and then Seokjin stops and holds his hand out to the right, to the first wooden row, which is empty. 

"Here you are!" Seokjin calls. "Enjoy the show!"

"Why were we given VIP?" Yoongi calls over your shoulder, to which Seokjin grins. 

"Right place at the right time…" He responds, drawing out the last word while studying your group. "And a good combination of cards."

"Oh," you respond as Taehyung and Jimin pass you to take their seats. Jeongguk is next, and you step forward to sit beside him, assuming he may not want to be stuck next to Yoongi. 

"Thank you!" you call just as Seokjin turns away, waving his hand in the air behind himself. 

From somewhere inside the ring, there is a large burst of music – horns and keys – that makes you startle, and you laugh to yourself, feeling silly for being so jumpy. Clowns and acrobats come flipping and twirling through the gap in between bleachers beside you as the loud music builds, becoming a quick, chaotic symphony. 

The performers line the ring, dancing and twisting, jumping and cartwheeling, cheering and singing. It is so loud and so frenzied, you have a hard time trying to find a spot to focus on, watching them move in small individual circles while traversing around the ring in greater circles, making you dizzy and somewhat disoriented.

"Come one, come all!" a loud, deep, welcoming voice booms over the noise. "Welcome to Carnival Bizarre! The greatest show in the world!"

When the other Kim brother you recognize from the posters – Namjoon – suddenly appears in the center of the ring in a burst of smoke, you feel surprised and a bit confused. The performers circle around him, and he holds his arms high, blood-red suit bright under the shine of the many spotlights.

Although you cannot perfectly see him from this distance, you imagine that he is not only smiling, but that he is staring directly at you. A chill shimmies down your spine, and you want to look away, but you find that you cannot; your eyes are fixed on the magnanimous man in the swelling center of the encircling chaos. 

Held in Namjoon's hand is a cane, the top end of which is glowing bright like fire, and you watch as he twirls and points with it, following its path at the music crescendos, feeling a heavy weight in your chest that threatens to overwhelm, if only you could tear your eyes away and allow yourself to think clearly. 

And then the music stops, and the lights shift off, save for a bright white spotlight that glows on Namjoon. He opens his empty hand, and something that looks like a burst of orange, glittering fire rises from his palms, shimmering in the air as it lifts up, up, up, to the top of the tent, so high above that you lose sight of it. 

Vaguely, it feels as if tears are running from your eyes, staining your cheeks in warm streaks, but you cannot lift your hands to check, nor can you blink. You sit stunned and stiff as a board, staring up into the dark tent, waiting to be told where to look next. 

Jack, the man in white, appears before you. His fingertips touching your chin shakes you from your reverie, and you gasp as you meet his eyes. Something is happening on the floor of the ring – slow, sultry music you don't remember hearing a moment ago seems to be accompanying several performers, but it is hard to make out much past Jack standing in the way. 

"Heads or tails," Jack says with a smile, and before you can respond, he flips a coin, sending it high into the air. "Heads, you see all; tails, you only remember what feels good."

You tilt your head back to watch the coin, barely aware of the fact that nobody else seems to be seeing it. It is almost as if Yoongi and Jeongguk are sitting with their heads slumped forward, but you cannot tear your eyes away from the ascending coin to check.

"Heads or tails?" Jack asks, and you open your mouth to respond, barely registering the word that comes from between your quivering lips. 

With a quick snap of his arm, Jack reaches high and snatches the coin from the air, then he crouches low before you, taps his fingers to your chin, and says, "Very good, ducky; you may sink, now. See you soon."

You mutter a soft, "Very good," as your head slumps forward, the music quietly swells to a stop, and everything fades to black. 

Tell me what you've come for What is it you adore Won't you tell me? What would you cry for Swallow your pride for? What would you, oh, go wild for?

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Carnival of Terror is a Goosebumps-inspired fic, copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

[sawyerslvt]

Johnny or Leland? | Episode 1

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode Hiyyaa <33 This is a choose your own ending story. I'm sure this has been done before on here, but I've always been obsessed with the option of choosing your own path in stories. I wanted to make a love triangle story between Leland and Johnny but I just couldn't choose who to pick in the end so this was the best solution to my problem. I have also included links to porn in this series, for better visualization ;) I hope you enjoy the story! <3 Word Count: 1,644 Warnings: MDNI, kidnapping

You've always had such a hard time choosing. You find yourself spending ages making simple decisions and you don't understand how hard it can be… Do I want regular Coca Cola or Coca Cola cherry? You're standing in front of the open fridge at the convenience store, shutting it only after the cashier starts giving you dirty looks. You continue holding both of the glass bottles in your hand. Taking turns looking from one soda to the other. You feel this is a losing battle regardless, whatever you end up not choosing, will be the one you crave after taking one sip of your chosen drink. You take a deep sigh and don't take notice of the man approaching you. 

“Havin’ a hard time deciding?” Your gaze shoots up from the bottles and you're met with a young man smirking at you, leaned up against one of the soda fridges. “uhh, yeah… which one would you pick?”, you tilt your head curiously. You just want this small inconvenience to be over with already. “I'm more of a classic guy. Don't like cherry too much. Go with the original”. He’s confident in the way he’s speaking. “Well, I do like cherry. I just-” He cuts you off, “cherry it is then sweetheart, come on, i'll get it for ya”. He opens the fridge and grabs the original coke from your hand to place it back in its place. You feel his hand graze yours, making your eyes shoot up to look at his face. He’s close to you as he reaches into the fridge. You get a whiff of his cologne and he smells really good. 

He walks over to the cash register and you place the cherry coke on the counter. The man pulls out his wallet and flips through his cash to bring out a dollar bill. You haven't stopped staring since the first time you laid eyes on him, he’s beautiful and the way he occasionally licks his lips makes you feel some type of way. He finally takes notice, and as the cashier collects his change, he looks over to you to shoot you a quick wink. He lets his head drop, chuckling and your cheeks burn hotter than the sun. The cashier is unamused, rolling his eyes at the cheesy scene unfolding before his unfortunate eyes. You grab your drink off the counter while your head stays down to hide your hard blushing. 

He holds the door open for you and gestures for you to walk in front of him. Once you exit the store, you're met with the cool night breeze. The sun has already set so it doesn't burn your skin to be outside, but you still feel that damn heat nonetheless. “Thank you for the drink, sir. You shouldn't have” your voice is sweet and gentle, you appreciate his kind gesture. “Sir?! alright, please don't tell me I look like a sir to you!”. His mouth is left agape but you see him smiling through his shock. You giggle at his reaction… it was intentional, he didn't look old at all but you just couldn't refrain from teasing him. “Oh, I don't know. Why don't you introduce yourself?”. You look up at him with a warm smile and he laughs, loving your playfulness. “Well darlin’, since you asked so kindly. The name’s Leland, I'm not a sir and I’d love to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself”. He looks down to your blushed face and smirks, loving your mannerism every time he directly flirts with you. 

You look down at the ground but he steps closer to you, bringing his hand to your chin to have you facing him again. “No need to act all shy with me, sugar”. He’s only inches away from your face. You feel the warmth of his breath bounce off your lips. He’s still holding onto your chin and staring directly at your lips, making you lick them to prepare for him. He looks into your eyes briefly, smirking, then quickly pulls in to connect his lips with yours. His lips are soft and you feel like you're melting into the strangers arms as he uses his free hand to pull your waist closer. You shoot your eyes open as you hear a tree branch breaking behind you. It sounded close enough for you to turn around completely, facing the direction of the noise. 

Leland looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what's with the theatrics. “Did you hear that?” Your voice is almost whispering. “It was probably some squirrel. What? You're scared of some cute critter?”. He teases you and you laugh, playfully hitting his shoulder. He makes a face, pretending you hurt him, holding his shoulder and letting out fake pained grunts until he eventually also breaks into laughter with you. His teasing made you let your guard back down. He gently turns you back around and pulls you in again, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched as you continued kissing him. You were most likely paranoid due to the pitch blackness of the forest behind you. Anything could lurk in the shadows and your fear of the unknown is taking a toll on you, it was probably nothing. You feel a chill run up your spine, making you shiver and hug yourself. Leland notices your discomfort and  pulls away from the kiss. He places both his arms around you, covering you like a warm blanket. “...you wanna warm up in my car?”. He looks down at you with his kind eyes. You nod into his chest and look up at him giving him a warm smile. He returns the smile and keeps one arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk over to his car. 

Once both of you are seated in his car, he looks over to you. Your hands are tucked between your thighs, partially because of the dropping temperature. But it was also a way to calm the butterflies going wild between your legs. Just looking at the man made your thoughts act up. His lips were softer than cotton and thinking about them again made your lips tingle. Your thoughts get interrupted by his hand making its way to your thigh. His hand gives you a gentle squeeze as it rests warm and soft on your thigh. “You’re beautiful”. His words escaped him as if he was nervous. There were no hints of nervousness coming from him from the second you met him. You look at him and there is innocence to his mannerism, you find yourself smiling over his sweetness. Without saying anything, you lean in and let your lips find his. Your hands rest on his lap and he has one of his hands wrapped around your waist while the other is behind your neck. 

You deepen the kiss, squeezing your hands in his lap. Your hands are resting close to his bulge and you feel how big the curve is. You moan into his kiss and he responds giving you a deep groan. He introduces his tongue and you gladly welcome it inside your mouth. Your spit and tongues swirl together and you can tell he’s experienced. You feel your pussy get wetter as you kiss him but break away from it to look down at his growing bulge. You look into his narrowed eyes and you can tell he wants you badly. You stroke the print of his shaft from the outside of his tight fitting jeans. You bite your lip as you continue stroking and he leans his head back, releasing a wonderful groan to express how good your soft hands feel on his clothed cock. 

He lets his head return to meet your gaze and in that moment it was just you and him. Both of you were completely unaware of your surroundings as you started to unbuckle his belt. You unzip his jeans, breaking away from the kiss to focus on the zipper for a second. To your absolute horror, you hear the driver’s window shatter, and before you realize what had happened, you see Leland’s head collapsed on the steering wheel and blood gushing from the back of his head. You see the stone that was used to break the window and a faceless man rushing behind the car to make his way to your side. 

“Leland!!! Please wake up!” you try shaking him but your desperate pleas prove to be useless as he’s knocked out cold. Your fight or flight kicks in and you unlock the door to get away before the man gets to you. You swing the car door open, crying as you feel horrible for leaving Leland behind. You run but your heart skips a beat when you hear heavy footsteps chase after you. You’re smart enough to not look back and continue running for your life, screaming for help as you try to make it back to the convenience store. You had no idea how close the man was to you but you become very aware the second he manages to hit you across the back of your head, making you fall to the ground. Your head is pressed against the concrete with his big hands, making it impossible to move and your vision starts to blur until everything fades to black. 

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode

credit for dividers: @y-onb @plutism <3

[mountainsandmayhem]

*Clears throat*

I HAVE TWO VERSIONS OF PART 3 TO DBF!JOEL WRITTEN.

[lottiecrabie]

hello sweet lottie, I’ve just reread cyosa and I am back on my hands and knees begging for the alternate cuddle ending before you inevitably leave us (still can’t think about that without wanting to die btw xx). as a cuddle truther I must say there are not many days I go without thinking about what may have been hahaha. lots of love 4eva and eva ily

if i could directly send u this and Never give the shower truthers any resolution I would

you lay on the bed, still sweaty and panting, covers and limbs crisscrossing all together. your head rests on his arm, clutching his hand as though holding onto the buoyancy of him, as though you’d be drowning without. the room smells of sex. a grin teases your lips, too proud and fucked-out to be disgusted yet.

‘thank you,’ you speak, quiet and comfortable in the heat of the room. bone-deep happiness curls inside of you. you want to stick to him and the bed and never leave this moment.

matty presses the back of your hand with his thumb. ‘you’re welcome.’ you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. ‘thank you for trusting me.’

‘of course,’ you say easily. ‘though, it’s not really a compliment on me. you did all the work; i just let myself trust a completely dependable person.’ matty hums, musing.

after a moment of silence, your eyes dropping with exhaustion, he finally asks, ‘so why did you choose me?’

you readjust in his arm, the pinpricks of discomfort on your skin. reality, and the immensity of the ignored, presses your chest. ‘i mean, as we’ve said, i trust you. and—‘ you bite your lip, wondering how much you want to share, how much there even is to say. ‘you’re a good person. a good friend. you never make fun of me for all my pro-con lists or my neuroses. i knew— i don’t know.’ he’s quiet, pensive, and it all feels too much. you force out a laugh, joking, ‘plus, you know, there were all these rumors on campus that you’re a sex god or whatever.’

matty laughs. ‘so am i?’

‘you don’t need me to answer that.’

‘oh, come on. i deserve a little compliment for that performance.’ you slap his belly, shaking your head, but he just laughs harder. ‘so that was all?’ he asks again. you wonder what he’s searching for.

you sigh. bite your lip. ‘well, i guess i found you pretty too, if we are being honest.’

‘glad to hear it.’

‘don’t let it get to your head.’

‘too late.’ you can hear the smirk. you tsk. ‘you know, you’re a very quick study,’ matty declares to the room. you flush, ego and pride curling pleasantly up your spine. your smile widens in earnest ways you’d bother to hide any other times.

‘you’ve a very good teacher,’ you praise back, tilting up to look at him. he still gazes up at the ceiling, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks red and glistening. god, he’s so pretty. you bite your lip. ‘we’re very good at this,’ you try, dipping a toe in the terrifying.

‘yeah.’ he says, quiet, thoughtful. ‘too good. i think we’ll wake up to many complaints from your neighbors.’

‘oh, yeah. you’re about to have the most watched walk-of-shame ever.’

‘everyone trying to catch a glimpse at the talent,’ matty tsks, faux-mournful. you roll your eyes, vaguely slapping his stomach again. ‘y’know, it might be wise to avoid it altogether.’ again, his eyes stubbornly face the ceiling, but you can feel how his breath hitches and holds under your hand. your grin curls in your cheek.

‘right,’ you nod. ‘wait a few days. give them time to forget.’

‘exactly.’ his thumb rubs the back of your hand. from nerves or from the desperate need to feel you, you’re not sure. ‘and, while we’re here, we might want to check a few other items off your list. just to maximize our time.’

‘smart,’ you laugh. ‘two birds, one stone, and all of that.’

‘of course, i don’t want you to think i’m only using you for things related to your bed. i’m very open to having dinner and any other activities to pass the time as well.’

you can’t take it anymore. you flutter your eyelashes at him, teasing, ‘matty, is there something you want to ask me?’

finally, he looks down and locks eyes with yours. something gets relieved at the sight of you. his smile grows, his hand tightening in yours. ‘do you want to go on a date with me?’ your heart rushes, a flutter of feelings in the depth of your belly.

‘yes,’ you say, grin shining on your cheeks. he can’t hold back the joy either; his head dips down, catching your lips. you push against him to tease, ‘kissing me before our first date? what’s next, you think i’ll put out, too?’

‘oh, i’d never.’

[petrichorca]

Choose Your Own Adventure: Reunion!

Haven't been posting much because head-down in work/life, but fifteen OFMD folks and I contributed to the Choose Your Own Adventure: Reunion! It's super fun and there are many different paths to take along with beautiful/touching/hilarious/sexy art to enjoy. We worked on this collaboratively and the chapters are all anonymous. I'm so proud of the project and grateful to @ghostalservice and @trans-top-stede for co-captaining this. <3

[xavier-starlight]

A Night With Lumiere: Pick Your Poision ~ Smut (Entry 2)

[Votes are in! You are wearing a red set of lingerie.] Prior Entries HERE

You end up sitting on the sofa while you wait, anticipation crawling up your spine. Every slight sound has your shoulders straightening up in trepidation, but you should have known you'd never get a warning that he was coming.

Lumiere isn't there and then he is, in a flash of light you go from completely alone to a man's hands on your shoulders pressing you back into the sofa. "Xavier would never do that?"

He scoffs, but that quickly shifts into the after edge of a dangerous smirk as he looks at you. "If you were looking for me to fuck you, you could have just said, pet. Because I guarantee there are all sorts of things I can do that Xavier can't and you're about to find out all about them."

[goodomensafterdark]

hello! No clue if you’d know this, and I know I am late, but I am currtently getting through the “coming home” choose your own smut extravaganza fanfic. Trying to perhaps not complete my bingo card but get through parts I want to see. I thought I had seen everything there was to see, but I still can’t find Bildad!!

where the hell can I find Bildad?!

I suppose a small hint couldn't hurt...

There's a character you want to let in but then turn down ;)

[wordynerdygurl]

The Queen & The Jester

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader “Choose Your Own Adventure” Story

--------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note:  Like so, so, so many of us, the Eddie Munson thirst became too much to bear.  After thinking it over, I decided to make this an old school “Choose Your Own Adventure” story.   So, be aware:  There is SMUT, there is some Angst, depending on the path YOU Choose!  Language like cursing, swearing and name calling shows up regularly and... if ye be under 18, stay away! If you interacted with my question about reading an Eddie Fanfic, I’ve tagged you, shamelessly.  I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Last thing- This is all terribly self indulgent!  Sorry, not sorry! ------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were lots of places where you could make yourself small, insignificant, out of the way.  The basement chorus room, with its pile of broken music stands and worn out carpet was one that you used on occasion, but by far the best you had found was the high school library.

Of course, there were high traffic areas in this hall of knowledge; the front, where the reference cards lived in narrow drawers, was always surrounded by someone in a crunch to finish a paper on time.  Study desks, organized in long center rows, were constantly in use by the student body.  Which is why, when you found what you loving referred to as your nook, you were ecstatic. Out of the way, a little alcove, just big enough for you and your back pack was created when two walls had been unable to meet in a 90 degree angle.  This meant there was a little nook that was never used as it was too small for a shelf and there would be no need for a table or chairs back here where students could get up to unwitnessed shenanigans.  There were no punny posters or student notices, no decorations of any kind.  The rug was, miraculously, free from stains.  And because there were no periodicals or encyclopedias in the vicinity, no one really roamed this far back between the towering shelves. The stacks here were filled with novels of the science fiction and fantasy variety, typically shunned by more of the kids crowding the halls.  They wanted easy to digest drivel, romantic books with pictures of beefy dudes on the covers or gruesome crime thrillers, things you enjoyed but didn’t find very fulfilling.  Or, worse still, was the lack of interest in reading all together, something you just couldn’t imagine. And perhaps that’s why you found the dusty vanilla-like aroma of pressed pages so relaxing.  It transported you away from the frustrating reality of your actual life and into places in space and time that you would never be able to reach otherwise.  Fingers tracing the laminated spines of stories from authors like LeGuin, Ruel and Lackey, Pratchett and Dick, it was hard to pick just one.  Colorful covers of ancient monsters, sword wielding heroes or the collapsing cosmos called to you.  Who were you to ignore the summons of such great material? So, most days around lunchtime, if someone was looking, which, let’s be honest, they weren’t, you could be found sitting on this particular piece of library floor with your back against the wall, your knees propping up one of a thousand different books that took you away to worlds where you could just be.  Free of judgements and name calling and calorie counting.  Free of feeling like a freak.  Free to live as many fantastical lives as you possibly could all while sipping on the Slim-fast shake your mother insisted on making you drink or gnawing at an apple. It became such a habit, you taking refuge among the works of Tolkein and Bradbury, that the librarians stopped questioning your presence when the midday bell sounded.  You’d just scoot past with a wave, weaving between the aisles until it was just you in your semi-sanctuary, seeking solace in the written words around you.  No one paid attention one way or another which was just fine with you.  On a day when you were fighting an army of Orcs at Helm’s Deep, worried about whether Gandalf would be good to his word, you found yourself pulled from Middle Earth by the brotherly bickering of two young voices, “It shouldn’t be that hard to find, Mike.” “I know it’s back here, ok Dustin?  The index said 082-04, which should be-” startled, you scrambled to grab your stuff, which included the school’s copy of The Lord of the Rings and pushed to your feet quickly.  It wasn’t about being caught, you weren't doing anything wrong by reading during your lunch hour; it was more about being exposed.  If some underclassmen found you, then really, anyone could.  Your private little book nook wasn’t as secret as you had hoped.  You weren’t really paying attention as you jammed the remnants of your meager meal into the bottom of your bag, hurrying towards the front of the library.  All you could see were the doors getting closer with each panicked step.  Maybe that’s why you didn’t see the laughing, lean, leather wrapped body of Eddie Munson until it was entirely too late. — The library was not his scene.  No fucking way.  Nerds go to the school library.  Dweebs, they write papers.  Eddie?  He smoked during class, sold drugs after lunch, rock ‘n rolled all night and partied everyday.  But, if he wanted to graduate and wanted to actually put this hell hole in his rearview mirror, then Eddie “The Freak” Munson had to pass English. Miss Donahue had given him an out.  Something, she said, which was typically reserved for her best students: extra credit.  If he could read a book, any book he wanted and turn in a report that sounded even remotely like it explained the concept of the story, she’d pass him.  Eddie was suspicious but appreciative.  He also understood that the teachers here at Hawkins High were just as sick of seeing him kicking around these hallowed halls as he was of them. With this mutually beneficial arrangement in place, Eddie had thought long and hard about what book to pick.  It was a daunting decision and not one to be taken lightly.  He had opinions, strong, loudly vocalized opinions about the quality of the book he was willing to give his time and attention to.  There were some smaller volumes, quick and easy reads, which would be a breeze for sure.  Miss Donahue had suggested The Outsiders.  That was a good one, Eddie reluctantly agreed, and a book he actually enjoyed.  But he rejected it for this project since it sorta felt like a cheap choice as the movie had come out a couple years back.  Nearly gagging, someone had suggested The Catcher in the Rye.  Uh, no thanks.  Not for Eddie. If he was going to pick up a book, it needed to speak to him, ya know?  Really mean something.  And it had to be interesting enough that he would be able to finish it so he could actually get his damn diploma. Days passed and he was starting to get desperate.  He’d risked asking the Hellfire boys what they thought.  Was there a novel worth tucking into that could help him pass but also be worth his time? Dustin, always the quickest, snarked, “Eddie the Banished, there’s only one tome that you need read.” “Yea?  What’s that Henderson?”  Rattling a D20 in his hand, digging the way it sounded when the hard plastic clicked against his rings, Eddie hadn’t bothered lifting his head.

“The Lord of the Rings.”  Dustin reveled in the glory of this announcement, proud and smiling. Eddie blinked at him, his face unreadable, “So, you are suggesting that I re-read The Lord of the Rings for Miss Donahue?” With an ounce of appropriate trepidation, Dustin countered, “Is it such a bad idea?  You’ve done it before.  You know you like the story-” Cutting him off, Eddie slapped the die on the table with a thump, “Henderson, it’s the length of a bible.” “Ok, fair.  But maybe just pick one of the volumes?  I’m partial to Return of the King, myself.” Damn it.  That was a good idea.  And it meant that if Eddie didn’t get through the entire thing, he still had enough knowledge of the source material to write a paper decent enough for Miss Donahue.  It’s just, he couldn’t let Henderson win that easily. “Hmm…” Circling the table where he held court over his loyal band of merry men, Eddie stroked his chin, contemplating the suggestion, “Ya know, it’s not a bad idea.  It’s not a great one either, but-” stopping directly behind Dustin, his hands falling onto Hawaiian shirt covered shoulders, “-It’s The Fellowship of the Ring that is the right answer, Henderson.” Mike snorted, “When they meet the elves and shit?” Spinning on his high-top Reeboks, Eddie skipped to Mike’s side before squatting, “You got a problem with elves, Wheeler?” “Uh, no, no… It’s just… aren’t they a little, ya know, girlie?” “Would you call Legolas girlie?  Would you call Thranduil girlie?  Huh?”  Nose to nose with the skinny freshman, Eddie didn’t relent, waiting him out until the kid conceded with a nod, “No.  And besides Mikey-” ruffling the boy’s dark hair as he rose to standing, Eddie laughed over his shoulder, “Arwen is hot.” Gareth and the guys laughed at that, taking it in turns to high five their leader as Eddie resumed his seat at the head of their cafeteria table.  Snapping his fingers, an idea came to him right then, one good enough that he announced in his sing-song voice, “Let’s go to the library.” A look passed between Mike Wheeler and Dustin that clearly questioned the sanity of their Dungeon Master.  He was prone to overreaction, sarcastic comments and teasing in the loving way favored by older brothers the world over.  And when Eddie wanted something, truly, madly, deeply, he was relentless in pursuing it.  The boys had learned that loyalty and honoring commitments was paramount for the oldest senior in Hawkins High history.  As his soldiers, the next generation of Hellfire Club was theirs to run and Eddie considered it his mission to ensure that kids stepping into his shoes were up to the task.  And soldiers didn’t question their leader, not if they were hoping to avoid becoming the focus of one of Eddie’s wordy, wise-crack filled tangents. Dustin had already tossed the remains of his bologna and cheese sandwich onto the table, anticipating the direction Eddie was headed.  Reluctant to cave so quickly, it was Mike who summoned the courage to ask, “Now?  It’s lunch time.” “Yes, now, fellas.  I need to check out my destiny!”  Glumly discarding the remains of their lunch trays, the boys followed in Eddie’s wake, watching as he skirted past other members of the student body, his commentary colorful as always.  Before too long they arrived at their destination, a mismatched trio with a mission.  Dustin and Mike were no stranger to the knowledge center that was the Hawkins High library but this was new territory for Eddie, exotic and a bit enticing.  In awe of the multitude that surrounded him, Eddie couldn’t help whispering worshipfully, “So many words.” “What was that?”  Dustin had attacked the card catalog, riffling through the musty striped cards with expert precision.

“Nothing Henderson.  Keep looking.  If I gotta read this thing, I want to start today.”  He was antsy and eager, excited for the new quest he was embarking on and keen to begin this literary campaign. Triumphantly pulling out the appropriate card, Dustin smiled widely, “Here it is!” Crestfall, Eddie’s face dropped, “That’s an index card.” “Yes, but it has the location of the book on it here, see?”  Trying to show his older friend how to read the designation assigned to the piece of classical literature they were looking for was pretty pointless.  He wasn’t going to search the racks for the book and he could care less about the Dewey Decimal System. “Cool, cool.  Yea, so uh, what are you waiting for?”  Eddie questioned, his eyebrows disappearing under the roughly cut fringe that framed his face.  The question sent Dustin and Mike scurrying into the library’s inner recesses, eager to fulfill Eddie’s crusade. It made him chuckle, the way the young lads tore off, bickering brotherly while doing this errand for him.  Looking around, Eddie would admit to a bit of curiosity about this particular library.  He’d long enjoyed the town’s book repository; it was where he met so many of his favorite characters.  Bilbo and Frodo, Arthur Dent, King Arthur and Merlin, plus a slew of others who showed Eddie a world beyond his own rusted trailer door.  Drumming on the card catalog case, on the lookout for his minions, Eddie couldn’t help being distracted by the gaggle of cheerleaders gathered around a copy of People magazine, giggling about Tom Cruise.  Their skirts were so short that he couldn’t be blamed for sneaking a peek, even if it didn’t really satisfy.  Snorting derisively, he put his back to the scene.  It seemed silly to be surrounded by so many stories and waste your time on a brag mag, but hey, to each their own. When he turned back to the row Dustin and Mike had cruised down it was too late.  You slammed into him with your shoulder knocking your bag and all its contents all over the floor. “Whoa!  Hey!  Are you ok?”  You heard his knees pop as he dropped down to help you clean up all your things.    Embarrassment flooding through you took your ability to answer, so you settled instead on the hasty retrieval of your stuff, raising your eyes to Eddie’s with what you hoped was an imploring look on your face.  Jamming everything back into your backpack, you pushed to your feet and left the room as fast as you possibly could, not looking back. “Hey!  You forgot your-” but the rest of his statement faded as Eddie watched the library doors shut behind you.  Left holding a well worn, well loved notebook, he turned it over, hoping to identify who you were so he could get it back to you.  Clearly it was something you used regularly, the corners faded white and fraying, the spiral sticking out of the bottom too far.  A mystery- that’s what this run-by library encounter truly was, one Eddie felt compelled to solve.  What was your name?  Eddie was certain he’d heard it before, maybe even been introduced to you properly, but his mind was drawing a blank.  He had definitely seen you around, though.  At The Hideout?  No, that wasn’t right.  But he knew your face, absolutely, and Eddie probably would have stayed there, crouched on the floor holding your missing college ruled notebook, until he solved the puzzle but around that time Mike and Henderson found him looking towards the library’s doors deep in thought. “What are you doing down there?”  Leave it to Dustin to question everything. “Just getting a new perspective, Henderson.  Did you get the book?”  Reaching out a hand, Eddie was helped to standing by Mike who staggered from the effort. “Uh, no.” At least Henderson had the decency to look upset about giving him this news.  Still Eddie couldn’t help pressing, “No?” “No.  See our library has the entire book in one volume versus the three individual volumes, so-” Nodding now, understanding the root of the problem, Eddie rubbed the back of his neck as he talked to himself, “So, someone else is reading it?” It was Mike’s turn to interrupt.  “That’s just it.  It’s not checked out but it’s not on the shelf.” His eyes widened at the mystery he’d been present with.  He sure as shit hadn’t taken the book, although that was exactly the kind of thing people expected of a guy like him.  The boys shifted uneasily on their feet, unsure of what Eddie’s reaction would be, but, not for the first time, he surprised them both. Looking down at the notebook he was holding on to, your notebook which had flown the farthest during your collision, Eddie laughed deep in his chest, “That’s ok.”  Dustin and Mike exchanged a worried look as Eddie snapped the notebook you had dropped against his open palm, his eyes on the door you’d bolted through.  “But, what about your report?” Grinning now, Eddie flashed his faithful friends a wide, knowing smile, “Don’t worry about that, Henderson.  I’ve got a side-quest to take on before we get to the main mission.” “Do you, uh, is there something you want us to do?”  Mike was hoping the answer would be no.  He had a phone date with his girl out in California planned for tonight and he hated to cancel. “No, Wheeler.  This is a solo adventure.  I got this one.”  On cue the bell which signaled the end of lunch sounded.  With appreciative handshakes to both Dustin and Mike, Eddie sent them on their way to class.  He lingered in the library, opening your notebook, hopeful of finding your name out your name, at least. You hadn’t done him the favor of neatly printing your contact information on the inside cover, but you had left a clue or two. A receipt, folded at an angle gave the name of Making Tracks Record Shop.  Lip pulling up at the corners, Eddie snapped his fingers.  That’s it!  That’s where he recognized you from! Sure, you weren’t the most outgoing sales clerk working for Keith, but you knew your stuff.  In fact, glancing down at the purchase ticket, he was impressed.  Iron Maiden, Metallica and Megadeth were all listed among your recent purchases.  Hard core. Thumbing through the pages, it dawned on Eddie that what he had mistaken for a random set of Chemistry notes was actually more than that.  Pages about characters, scenes, narrative work that went into descriptive details about things as small as the insignia emblazoned on someone’s saddle.  It wasn’t just class work that you had left behind.

The second bell rang and Eddie realized he had a decision to make.  He could go to class, fuck around, and goof off - or, he could cut and keep reading your story.  If he did the latter he’d have the time to make a delivery or two before winding up at the record shop and hopefully running into you again.

When it was clear that no teacher was going to come looking for him, Eddie ducked back into your fictional world excitedly.  From the first faintly written sentence, he was hooked.  The story of a sad Queen, lonely and abandoned, who had to defend her kingdom while falling in love with foreign King.  It had all the elements that got Eddie’s blood pumping: medieval knights, lovely but strong ladies and creatures of all shapes.  Eddie got comfortable in one of the impossibly hard wooden seats, shielding himself with leather wrapped elbows on the table.  You were a talented wordsmith and Eddie was hungry to learn about the fantastical world you were creating with sentences and commas.  In his mind’s eye he could see you, the stoic, silent leader, looking for the perfect paramour and finding only monsters at your door.  The King, well, you had outed yourself a bit by drawing Steve “The Hair” Harrington’s name on the once red cardboard cover and tracing a heart around it.  He got it, really.  The guy was a legend at Hawkins, but Eddie didn’t see what all the hype was about.  Anybody could be rich and handsome.  Broke and good looking, well that something that Eddie had figured out on his own!

It's just, that didn't seem right- the idea that your queen would settle for someone as boring as King Harrington.  In fact, the more he read, the more Eddie saw a huge problem in your pages.  There was no comedy, no funny business, no glee.  

Where was the sidekick?  The character with the great one liners, snarky but satirical, ready to quip the villains to death and banter playfully with the heroes?  Who was responsible for breaking all your building dynamic tension? Far too fast, he heard the end of day bell sounding throughout the school, and he was genuinely sad about it.  For the first time in years, Eddie Munson had stayed in school the entire day and that was solely because of you and your magical manuscript.  Gently shutting the pages, he folded the notebook in half and lovingly tucked in the waistband of his jeans, under his jacket, to protect it.  Smiling, he held the door open for some student stragglers, already imagining how happy you would be to see him that night. — It wasn’t until you threw your bag down on the rug of your bedroom floor that you realized what you had done.  The filmy plastic wrap that covered the school’s copy of The Lord of the Rings crackled as you pulled it free, digging for your writing notebook.  You knew you had it, you always did, it went with you everywhere, just in case inspiration struck.  

Having left in such a rush, so embarrassed about smashing into Eddie “The Freak”, you’d cared more about getting out of the way then making sure you had all your things.  Pair that with social panic at having to explain yourself to anyone, let alone the tall smart alec with tattoos, checking out the novel hadn’t crossed your mind.  And now, well now, you were responsible for keeping it safe until you could return it to the library like a responsible citizen.  Hopefully no one would notice it was missing. Gulping guiltily, you quickly tossed on your work uniform: black jeans and an uncomfortably tight electric green polo shirt with the words Making Tracks in thick black letters across your chest.  Quite possibly the ugliest thing you had ever been forced to put on your body, you did it for the perks.  Cheap music to add to your ever growing collection, first dibs on new releases and easy access to concert tickets when bands came anywhere near Hawkins.  Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to tame some of the frizz that flared out around your face.  It was no use.  The mirror couldn’t lie.  You were just you and that would have to do.  Honestly, you didn’t care about how you looked at work- metalheads and Cure fans didn’t give one shit what you were wearing as long as you could help them get their hands on the tapes of their favorite groups.  The pop princesses, though, they were the worst.  Always looking for Madonna or the Top Gun soundtrack happened to be the very same people who cast skeptical glances and made rude comments.  But you didn’t need to impress any of them.  You just needed a paycheck. “You ready, kiddo?”  Mom, trying to sound upbeat called out to you, knowing that you were due at Making Tracks Record shop downtown for your evening shift in twenty minutes. “Yea, just a sec!”  During your break you planned to get a jump on your homework, so you hastily piled the needed textbooks into your bag, again noting the lack of your personal notebook.  You didn’t really have the time to examine its absence, as the clock was ticking, so you let it go and headed down the stairs to your waiting mother. The hug she gave you was deep and long.  Since losing your dad in the StarCourt fire last year, mom had become overly focused on you, “Gosh!  Maybe we need to cut back on the sweets, huh?  I can barely get my arms around you!” Your skin burned with hurt at the comment but you refused to give it voice.  Instead you just agreed flatly, “Whatever you think is best.”  It was easier than making her feel bad about making you feel bad and it wasn’t as if she registered your comment anyway. The ride to work was more of the same, mom prattling on and on about some new diet she’d seen on television.  Exercise tapes to help tone and shape.  Self improvement never hurt anyone, she said.  “You’ll never find a man if you don’t have a figure!  That’s how I caught your father!” “Mom!  Gross!  And I don’t want to catch anyone.  I want-” Turning the taupe colored wheel sharply, she pulled into the parking spaces at the side of the building where you would spend the next six and a half hours, “You want something out of this world.  I know.  But honey, even space stations have weight limits.” With that lovely thought to keep you company, you popped open the door, not waiting for her to brake.  Dipping into the backseat for your book bag, you thanked her mechanically, “Appreciate the ride mom!  Thank you!” If she answered you didn’t hear it.  Already tucking your chin to your chest, you made the short walk to the record store doors as fast as you could, not looking anyone in the eye.  Skating past the manager, you tossed your stuff into your employee locker and punched in quickly.  Throwing your name badge around your neck, you inhaled a deep breath, “Just let the music take you away.”  It was your work mantra and it really did help. When you stepped back onto the floor, it was like a different person embodied your physical form.  Confident, you knew where each album belonged, where each artist and genre ranked and what bands belonged together on a shelf.  If someone asked you a question, the timidity of your daily existence was gone, you had the answers.  You were large and in charge here, in this miniature music filled world, and no one could blow your house down. Keith, who you were pretty sure was trying to collect as many local retail name tags as possible, called you to the register as soon as he saw you pop out from the backroom.  He was talking with a customer, someone he obviously knew pretty well, about Iron Maiden and when they were expected to come to Indianapolis that year.  Kicking your beat up Keds against the bottom of the counter, you interrupted confidently, “They won’t be.  They’re on a European tour right now, but I hear ‘87 might bring them back stateside.” With a smirk, Keith popped his chin your way, “Told you Munson.  She knows everything.” Turning to face you full on, Eddie tilted his head, taking you in with an appreciative smile, “So she does!”  Leaning across the shiny black counter, Eddie motioned for Keith’s ear, whispering, “Listen, Keith, is it cool if I borrow her for a minute?”

“Yea, sure, Munson.”  And then Keith allowed himself to get distracted by a telephone call. “Hey, does uh… she get a say in this?”  You asked defiantly, your hands finding your ample hips.  Unsure of what Eddie might be after, you weren’t about to let Keith agree to anything without your input. Stepping into your space, Eddie’s taller figure leaning over yours, not imposing necessarily, but curious, “Of course she does!  It’s just-” hovering now, his lips close enough to your cheek that the smell of weed and cigarettes and Big Red brushed over you, “-I found something that I think belongs to you and I… I want to return it.” His voice had dropped to a rumbling timber that the rational part of your brain knew meant bad news.  Your libido though, that unsatisfied bitch, heard it and roared to life.  Like a prickling sunburn every word that Eddie murmured ghosted over your skin bringing fresh heat to the surface. Somehow he’d managed to put your back to the register and was closing the narrow distance between you two.  If Keith noticed anything funny happening he didn’t say anything, content to slap price tags on the new vinyl shipment that you would undoubtedly be responsible for putting out on the floor later on tonight.  Swallowing thickly, you shifted your eyes, indicating the direction you planned to move and Eddie stepped back far enough that you could easily pass by. Trailing behind you, Eddie didn’t want to look at your ass, he really didn’t.  But it was so round and full- juicy!  That was a word he could use to describe your curvy figure.  Every step you took was hypnotizing and Eddie couldn’t stop following the swing of your hips swaying from side to side as you lured him away from the front of the shop.  Your thighs, encased in black denim, rubbed together just enough for him to know that he was getting to you.  Eddie may not have been book smart according to the education council of Indiana, but he knew things.  Oh yea, he knew when to push his advantage and when to hold out.  When a girl needed a firm hand or wanted to take the lead.  When a lady was into him, that was the easiest of all to identify… And you, little miss, were into him.  He had no doubt. Coming to a short stop in front of the recently vacated listening booths, you faced Eddie, biting at the inside of your cheek.  It was a nervous habit, and truthfully, this situation made you very very nervous.  “You uh, you said you found something of mine?” The question was innocent enough, Eddie reckoned, but the way you looked up at him through your thick lashes was not innocent at all.  Wide open doe eyes peered into his own, curious and questioning.  Stuttering a bit, Eddie started, “Uh… yea.  Yea.  I think this-” pulling a folded over notebook from the back of his jeans, proud at bringing it back, “-I think this belongs to you.” Closing your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath as your fingers gripped the worn down cardboard cover littered with doodles and scribbled nonsense.  You knew then that you had dumped it in the library that morning and Eddie Munson had collected it for you.  Something like shame coursed through you and forced you to ask, “Did you- um, did you-” “Read it?  Yea.  A bit.  It’s-” nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “-it’s really good.”  He hadn’t relinquished the notebook yet.  Maybe he wasn’t ready to let it go entirely, feeling a bit protective of the story he’d found written out on the college ruled pages.  Or maybe he just really enjoyed the way you were looking at him with serious eyes and lips pouting just a tiny bit. You had never let anyone read anything that came out of your warped little mind.  The judgment of others, the critiques that would come with allowing someone else access to your little story world filled you with anxiety.  Yet, here was Eddie “The Freak” telling you that he liked your work.  It was overwhelming. “Good?”  Sputtering, you weren’t entirely sure how to respond.  He didn’t seem to be kidding either. Covering your hand with his own, Eddie dropped down to your eye level, “Really good.  I think your main character, well, she’s a badass, isn’t she?” “Um, well, she wants to be-” “And the King?  He uh-” stepping around you now, Eddie tapped on the torn cover where a certain Hawkins High alumni’s name was scrawled in black marker, “-He’s not good enough for her.” Another bloom of humiliation broke open in your belly.  The name Steve Harrington emblazoned on your writing notebook wasn’t a clue as to your inspiration so much as a direct reference.  Now Eddie knew about that, too.  Whipping your head around, needing to defend yourself, you emphatically whispered, “It’s not- um, see, he is just a stand in.  A model for-” “You don’t have to justify it to me, sweetheart.  King Harrington may be the ideal, but your queen, in my humble opinion, needs something more.” Dry as a desert, your mouth could barely form a reply, “And what’s that?” “A jester.” Side-eyeing Eddie you snorted, “A jester?” “Sure!  A person who makes your queen laugh, only wants what’s best for her, and is willing to go out on a limb to make sure she gets it.” Chuckling, you shook your head.  It wasn’t an idea that had ever entered into your thinking, but that didn’t mean it was bad feedback.  “Eddie, my story is-” “Stuck.”  He arrogantly answered for you, leaning away from you in case you decided to swing at him. “Excuse me?”  The flash of anger shot through you again.  The audacity.  The straight frustrating nerve of Eddie Munson to tell you what your story lacked.  How dare he? Tapping the notebook where your story unfolded, he added, “You haven’t written anything new in days, maybe weeks.  So you’re-” shrugging his denim and leather clad shoulders knowingly, “-stuck.” And he was right, which was the worst part.  It had taken Eddie Munson all of five hours to out your writer’s block and then boldly offer a solution to your story’s key problem.  Jerking your notebook back, finally reclaiming ownership, you licked over your bottom lip, “Ok, Munson.  Let’s say you’re right.  Let’s say I have a… plotting problem. What makes you think your answer is the right one?” Stopping long enough to let the chains on his belt still, Eddie surveyed you seriously, “I don’t know if I’d say it’s the right one, doll, but I know my way around uh, let’s call it story management.  Every campaign of mine starts out with an ending, a conclusion.  The fun part-” he was almost nose to nose with you now, those big brown eyes peering playfully into your own, as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “-is how you get there.” “What, uh, what is my conclusion, Mr. Storyteller?”  You didn’t want to sound so weak but your voice was barely a whimper when it should have been a shout.  Something about this guy, his energy, just made you soft. “Love.  Sex.  Romantic nonsense that chicks your age dig.  Happy endings with pretty boys like King Harrington.”  Ticking them off on his ring clad fingers as if it was a mundane shopping list, you watched with the wicked way his lips curled into a grin, unable to keep yourself from staring. Caging you under his outstretched arm, the heat of his body wrapping around you, you were forced to tilt your chin up in an effort to maintain eye contact.  The rough collar of your uniform top parted enough that he could look down your shirt and Eddie hated that he liked looking so much.  Your large breasts crammed together under the professionally embroidered polyester, rising and falling with each shallow breath, deserved better in his opinion. Your pillowy lips, parted perfectly, were made to be kissed, and he raised his hand high enough to brush the calloused pad of his thumb across the bottom one, just to see what you’d do.  Croaking out a curse, you squeezed your eyes together, “Eddie…” It was an exhaled echo of the word that was swirling around your brain and the only sound you could commit to in the moment.  “Yea, sweetheart?  You got something you wanna say?” Fluttering open, you stared up at him, undone and overwrought.  You opened your mouth, hoping to regain some traction both mentally and physically but were cut short. “Hey!  Munson?  You’re still here?”  Keith, still safe behind the register, called out to the nearly empty space. But Eddie didn’t budge.  Still using his arm to support his weight, his dark gaze set on you, he answered, “I sure am!  Just be another second with our record store Queen.”  And the way he emphasized your title sent a fizzing firework through your belly. “Well, hurry up man.  I need some-” lowering his shout to a loud whisper, “-size eight green jeans, ya know?” “Give me a minute, man.  I’ll take care of you.”  At those last words, Eddie risked touching you again, pushing a thick shock of hair behind your ear so he could see your face. When you nuzzled your cheek into his hand he knew you were a goner.  Hell, maybe he was too.  “Come out with me tonight.  There’s a battle of the bands at The Hideout.  You like music as much as it looks like you do, then, you should be there.” If You Go with Eddie to The Hideout, Click Here! If You Don’t Go with Eddie, Continue Here!

Taglist:  @thatsonezesty13 @sxlly-pxbble @tisfuihi @theleft0ver @kerri-leighjade @carleighsworld @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden @meh-darkness @sereisstuff @elviqs @hevanleigh @ely-seum @ethereal-day-dreamer @bluedreamsofhoneyrevenge @armyangxls​ @alana-stewart​ @peachkiosk @riddlerstoepics​ @lonely-af-fangirl​ @darkhairedmenrule​ @b1tchbabytears​ @punishers-girl​ @ravencrap-hufflefuck​ @sapphic-assassin​ @roselill-reads​ @shiggay​ @boeutiful​ @york-peppermint-patty​ @atlwhatevs​ @probablynotmadonna​ @mermaidsandcats29​ @tarazia @aereth​ @maymaypes​

[gamerwoman3d]

Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

Part 2b(i): Smoke discovers F! Reader

PART ONE HERE

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

You realized how close to the electrical room you were, in this panic room. You chose it because the walls were thinner than the blast shelter panic room, and you wanted better wifi connectivity to watch the security footage. But in the dim, tablet-lit darkness, nothing. Your senses heightened, and you thought you could smell the beginnings of an electrical fire.

Then you felt it. A hand on your stomach, where no hand was visible. You turned the camera flash on the tablet: Nothing. Nothing except the invisible outline of a palm and five fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes, leaving a handprint shaped indentation.

The smoke smell. It wasn't an electrical fire. Smoke, himself, was in this cramped little panic room with you - invisible. And, he had his hands on your body already, as if claiming his prize.

"OH GOD, TOMÁŠ!" you whimpered.

You felt his breath at your neck as he giggled.

"How did you know my name? You pronounced it so well," he said.

His fingers trailed south, slipped beneath the band of your panties to fondle your wet clit.

You moaned and bucked into his fingers.

"Our timeline has a Smoke, he looks just like you, you're so hot, you're why I came -ah, ah, oh that feels... Tomáš, you're so sexy, don't stay invisible please please please let me see you," you mewled.

There was a smile in his voice.

"Nuh-uh-uh. I'm not sure you deserve to see me," he teased.

"You said I got your name right, doesn't that - ngh - count for something?" you panted out.

"Mm, a little," he said, before changing his tone, "But you also said Bi-Han’s name perfectly too. Are you suuure he isn't why you came to our timeline?"

Your body jumped up and down with excitement on his fingers.

"AH! Don't make me say so! You're nicer than him, you won't make me say so, you'll be nice, please Tomáááš be nice," you begged.

You felt him shuffle around, and saw your panties pull away from your body and down, forced as if by a ghost.

"I'll be very very nice," his voice came from a place hovering near your exposed pussy, "It makes me feel good for you to think I'm nice."

With that, you felt his tongue breech your folds. Looking down, you could see the skin around your clit pressing and opening up rhythmically. It was as mesmerizing as it was blinding.

(Choose a link below to continue the story!)

Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader

[chooseyourownavenger]

[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]

That’s why I came up here.

“That’s why I came up here,” you hum.

Tony leans in and kisses you hungrily.  His tongue coaxes your lips apart and flicks into your mouth.  As you and Tony kiss, Clint runs his hand up your side and cups your breast, he starts kissing and sucking on your throat, and just when you begin to wonder if he’s trying to mark you, Tony pulls back and pulls Clint into a passionate kiss.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you watch them kiss over the top of you.  You can see why they both described their encounters as competitive.  They look like they’re fighting each other for dominance, and it’s turning you on just as much as when they were focused on you.  They pull apart and look back at you and you imagine that this is what it would look like to be cornered by a pair of hungry wolves.

“Bedroom?” Clint asks.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Tony agrees, standing.

He offers you his hand and you down the last of your drink before taking it and letting him help you to your feet.  He leads you up a glass spiral staircase and down a curved hall to the bedroom.  Clint comes up behind you and kisses your neck, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts.  You let your head fall back and Tony moves in front of you.  He kisses your collarbone and nudges your feet apart so he can push his thigh between your legs.

You sag between them, letting them hold you up between them as a warm prickle runs under your skin.  Clint unzips your dress and Tony pushes it down off your arms, exposing your bra.

“Everyone has way too many clothes on,” Clint complains.

“Very observant as usual,” Tony teases.  “What was your callsign again?  Hawkeye?”

Clint bites back a laugh and lunges at Tony, pushing him back onto the bed that was bigger than any you had seen in person.  You watch as Clint begins to strip pieces of Tony’s clothing off - starting with his jacket and moving straight to his pants.  Tony laughs and tries to return the favor but Clint’s enthusiasm makes it difficult for him to get a handhold of any of Clint’s clothing.

You step out of your dress and shoes and come up behind Clint and pull his jacket off.  As Clint clumsily strips Tony, you manage to undress Clint.  When they’re down to their socks, they both rip them off themselves and Tony moves up onto the bed he’s sitting against the tall headboard.  The arc reactor glows in the middle of Tony’s chest, adding a cool blue light to the room.  It’s an impressive piece of technology, but it looks painful.

“Come here,” he says to you, patting the spot between his legs.

You crawl up toward him and crouch between his legs, nosing at the inside of his thighs and placing soft kisses on his skin.  He grips your hair and leans back, though his eyes stay trained on you.  His cock jumps and starts to harden.  You lick up his shaft and suck on the head of his cock.  He groans and his muscles tense.  “That’s it,” he praises.  “Take your time.”

You tease him slowly with your tongue, flicking it over the slit and swirling it around.  Clint moves up behind you and pulls your panties down to your knees.  He spreads your cheeks and begins to suck at your pussy from behind.

As Clint works your cunt from behind you suck Tony’s cock.  You bob your head up and down, taking his cock deeper and deeper down your throat.  Clint’s tongue pushes inside you and he fucks you with it before sweeping up to your asshole and swirling around.  You moan around Tony’s shaft and the sound mixes with the moans coming from Tony and Clint.

You begin to tremble as a soft current spreads out from your cunt to your extremities.  Tony begins to thrust his hips up so as you suck he fucks your mouth.  It only adds to the feeling of the impending orgasm building in you.

“Make her come, Clint,” Tony growls.  “Make her come all over your face.”

Clint plunges two fingers into the heat of your cunt and fucks you with them as he sucks on your clit.  You can’t even focus on Tony anymore.  All you can do is try to breathe through your nose as he holds your head in place and fucks your face.

It’s too much, your body seizes up and you cry out and come, your whole body shaking with it.

Tony lets you go and you fall back, gasping for breath.  “You okay?” Clint asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” you pant.  “That was just intense.”

“Come here,” Clint says, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering you his hand.

You wiggle out of your panties and climb into his lap.  He kisses you and falls back, pulling you down on top of him.  You begin to grind on his cock, letting it slide up and down your swollen cunt.  Tony gets up and goes to his side table.  He grabs a couple of condoms and lube and moves behind you stepping between Clint’s legs.

He runs his hand down your spine and over your ass.  His fingers tease over your pussy and he wraps his hand around Clint’s cock and pulls it back.  Clint groans and lifts his hips, pushing you up off the bed a little.  Tony tears one condom packet open and rolls the rubber down on Clint’s cock before guiding the other man into your sex.  You and Clint moan in tandem but don’t break the kiss.

As you start riding Clint’s cock, Tony rolls on his own condom and lubes up his cock.  He pushes Clint’s legs up, so you’re trapped between them, and starts teasing his cock over Clint’s asshole.  Ever so slowly, Tony starts to sink into Clint’s ass.

Clint breaks the kiss with a moan.  “Fuck, Tony,” he moans.

“Bet it feels good to be used by both of us, little bird,” Tony teases.  “You like that?”

“Fuck, yes,” Clint groans.

Tony guides you up against him and pulls you back into a kiss as he starts to thrust.

The three of you move together - three people connected as one.  Each thrust of Tony’s hips moves you up and down on Clint’s cock.  Clint moans and gasps under you, rutting up and arching his back with pleasure as you and Tony both fuck him.  The archer’s calloused fingers run over your skin, making you break out in goosebumps.  He pinches and tugs at your nipples as he looks up at you with lust-blown blue eyes.

Tony holds you against him, one hand against your throat while the other rests on your public bone.  He starts rubbing your clit in tight circles, and it sends a hot current swirling out through you.

The sounds in the room get louder and more frantic.  Clint begins to plead for his release.  “Fuck.  Oh god.  Please.  I’m close,” he babbles as his legs shake at your side.

“Wait for her,” Tony growls, and Clint mewls and throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw.

The sight is so erotic that it sets off your orgasm and you cry out as it crashes through you.  Clint mewls and arches his back and he comes deep inside you.  “Fuck!” he cries out gripping the sheets.

Tony starts fucking him harder and faster as he chases his release.  You clench your walls around Clint’s softening cock and he mewls and whimpers at the overstimulation.  “Please, Tony,” he begs.  “Come.  I want you to come.”

Tony groans deeply and slams into Clint as he comes.  “That’s it,” he growls.  “Take it.”

The three of you stay joined panting heavily for a moment and slowly Tony pulls out and you roll off Clint.  Tony goes to toss out the used condoms and you sit up in bed.  You aren’t sure what to do.   A threesome with two Avengers is amazing, but should you redress and leave?  Will there be more?

Clint climbs back in the bed and pat’s the space beside him.  “You wanna sleepover?”

You look at Tony to see if that’s okay.

“Yeah, get comfortable,” he says, getting into bed.

You climb up between them and they spoon themselves around you.  You’re surprised by how nice it feels to be cocooned by both men.  It isn’t long until you’ve fallen asleep between them.

You wake up the following morning to Tony gone and Clint sitting up and stretching.  You look up at him and blink slowly, appreciating the flex of his archer physique, even if it is covered in cuts and bruises.  “Where’s Tony?” you ask.

“Hang on,” he says, a little too loudly.  He reaches over, grabs a set of hearing aids off the bedside table, and puts them in.

“Sorry, I can lip read, but this is too early for that,” he says.

“What happened to Tony?” you repeat.

“He barely sleeps.  Probably got up at five and went to the lab,” Clint replies.  “You wanna take a shower?  Get some breakfast?”

Breakfast and a shower sound great.

Take off as quickly as you can