#Baywatch Night

[detective-jane-rizzoli]

Happy Birthday, Angie! 🎂🎁💝💖

[lesserknownhusbands]

[rhys-ravenfeather]

If you ever feel bad about your own stories, or like your stories are unoriginal, just remember that in the 1990s, there was a Baywatch spin-off that started out as your typical crime/cop show, but then in Season Two, tried copying The X-Files, and ended up getting canceled.

[vforvalensa]

Watching the force fem episode of the baywatch crime noir spin off

[stanley-ballz]

Schmitti umarmt Jean Zimmer nachdem Kaiserslautern im DFB Pokal ins Halbfinale eingezogen ist

[beardedmrbean]

[livingmess-doingherbest]

At family dinner, the day I returned from my trip to Germany, recounting my shenanigans with my friends.

My mom, listening, looking at me with the most neutral expression known to mankind. Occasionnal "mmh", "oh" and "ah". Definitely expecting me to say something specific.

Me, trying to recall all the details.

Finally, me : "Oh right ! And I discovered that I didn't have any survival instincts. Oh and I also almost got into a fight ! But it was on another day uh."

My mom : "There it is."

[marvelobsessed134]

In my head

I would love to be those girls from the 80s and 70s who are known for being beautiful and married to rockstars. I don’t know why but, there’s something about pretty blonde women such as Pamela Anderson that inspire me and make me want to be like them. I wanna be an 80s bombshell so badly…maybe one that’s on the cover of playboy.

I think this stems from me not getting much attention for my looks. I’m not ugly at all but I don’t stand out like someone like Heather Locklear does, people don’t immediately turn their heads when I walk into a room.

I want that attention. I want people to look at me and think, “god damn she’s so sexy.” Maybe have older men look at me and go “she looks just like that playmate I used to have a crush on back in the day.” I lack in boobs (A cup, lol) and my butt isn’t that big but I do have a nice shape to my waist. I just wish to be like those playmates or rockstar wives. They’re all so beautiful and inspire me when it comes to fashion.

One of the main reasons I write fanfiction because it just makes me feel like I am those girls. Like yes, I am that model who’s married to that drummer. And yeah, it’s probably part of the fact I fantasize more than I do live in reality. In my head I’m this bombshell who makes everyone’s heads turn as she walks in the club with he tight cheetah print dress and high heels. Hair perfectly permed and teased with gorgeous red lips. The kind that would attract those rockstars who get married to any girl they find attractive. (Even though some of them end up cheating anyways).

In my head is my favorite place but also my worst nightmare. Some beautiful things come out of it while others are dark, intrusive thoughts that I can’t shake, the kind that haunt me in the middle of the night and make me shudder. The kind that make me sick to my stomach.

Anyways, I’d have a stage name too. Something more glamorous than my last name that’s not very Hollywood esq..

I’d live in a beautiful large house in LA maybe in Beverly Hills or Point Dune in Malibu. It be the style of the 80s and 90s mansions. Glamorous tiles, pilers, chandeliers, iron staircases and gates. A fountain in the front yard, an Olympic sized swimming pool.

But nothing could beat laying in satin sheets in bed that has a shell shaped headboard, with the rockstar husband of my dreams. Watching late night television and laughing at the stupid commercials (the weirdest commercials always come on in the middle of the night, why!?)

Maybe we have a dog laying at the foot of the bed, snoring loudly because dogs snore.

Or maybe I’m standing side stage at my husband’s show, cheering him on, head banging and singing along to the songs. Maybe I’m pregnant, too. With a little girl. I’d probably be fine with getting pregnant if I had this life.

Anyways, this just came to my head and I decided to ramble/write this little piece.

[thesovereignchimera]

I want y'all to be grateful I haven't subjected you to my most recent hyper fixation.

BAYWATCH NIGHTS.

[pickafandomanyfandom]

This is so fucking random but like why tf not

I spent all weekend hanging out with my best friend on call just watching movies and gossiping and talking (we live an hour away from eachother) and when I tell you I felt genuinely happy. I started a drawing I’m rly proud of, I went shopping for books baskets, and I was on call with him for like all of it. We watched “the other woman” “Bodies Bodies Bodies” “Baywatch” (the 2017 movie) “totally killer” “tragedy girls” and “the watch” and istg I had so much fun. We were also on call for like an hour when I was shopping for his presents and I wouldn’t tell him what I was doing

[mararhodus]

X-Files Rewatch Twitter Thoughts Megapost

-In the first Tooms episode, Tom, Scully’s douchebag friend from the academy, calls her Mrs. Spooky and… y’know, I’m surprised calling Mulder and her Mr. & Mrs. Spooky isn’t more common in the fandom

-This rewatch has brought forth Space as a potential candidate for worst episode of the show, because Jesus Christ it's like if you made the most boring version of Apollo 13, added a ghost, and had Mulder and Scully stand around giving color commentary

-Genuinely so funny watching Baywatching Nights in the middle of an X-Files rewatch cuz like X-Files has some absolute dogshit episodes, but it’s still built around some of the most talented actors, writers, and sfx artists ever on TV, but Baywatch is Baywatch

-I love that by season 3, basically half the dialogue between Mulder and Scully is Mulder asking to be pegged and Scully going “Not right now, we’ve got work to do.”

-Teso Dos Bichos is a truly godawful episode, but it’s still a better 90’s horror story about cats than Sleepwalkers. I mean, I’d only really make this choice with a gun to my head, but at least I can say that it doesn’t involve incest.

-Gender Bender is an absolute fucking yikes all the way around. Even setting aside the thick layer of 90’s transphobia that coats it, it is *very* casual about Scully almost getting raped.

-Watching an episode where the killer is targeting fat women and the first victim of the episode doesn’t even weigh 200 pounds… I swear to god, the 90’s were fucked

-So I know that the ending of Paper Hearts seems to discount it, but like being one of Roche‘s victims is the only explanation The X-Files gives for Samantha Mulder’s death that makes remotely any sense, right?

[trnsocial]

Remember That Show? Ep. 22: Baywatch Nights

We’re entering the Halloween season by exploring the 2 season spin-off, Baywatch Nights starring David Hasselhoff, Angie Harmon and plenty of sexy guest stars. We examine the bizarre  Season 2 shift from lackluster detective drama to bonkers supernatural adventure series, while also discussing the International Baywatch phenomenon, our scariest childhood TV viewing moments and more. This episode…

[afaimsblog]

Ja, das gab es wirklich - Baywatch Nights: Der missverstandene Baywatch-Spin-Off

Jetzt, da sich das sogenannte Goldene Zeitalter des Fernsehens rasant seinem Ende nähert, ist vielleicht ein guter Zeitpunkt um darauf zurück zu blicken  (denn immerhin will ich nicht nur jede Woche über Tax Write Off-Strategien von Studios und Projekte, die dank dem Streit On Hold gestellt werden oder eben nich,t schreiben). Deswegen gibt es ab jetzt eine neue Kategorie für diesen Blog, genannt “Ja, das gab es wirklich” oder alternativ “Ja, das ist wirklich passiert, ich war dabei”, in der wir uns mit ein paar der kurioseren Auswüchsen der Serienwelt beschäftigen wollen.

Heute begeben wir uns auf Zeitreise zurück in die 90er, jene Zeit, in der die Grundlage für das sogenannte Goldene Zeitalter des Fernsehens gelegt wurde. Die 90er sind unter anderem für zwei Dinge bekannt: Für die Rennaissance der Sciene Fiction im Fernsehen und für die Hochzeit der Action-Formate im Fernsehen. Die wachsende Popularität von “Star Trek” und der durchschlagende Erfolg des “pseudo-realistischen” Mysterie-Serie “Akte X” führte zu vielen Epigonene, die gewollt mit Sci Fi und Fantasy-Elementen experimentierten, manchmal erfolgreicher und manchmal weniger erfolgreich.

Zugleich war das eine Zeit, in der das Erbe des großen Action Kinos der 80er auch seine Spuren am kleinen Bildschirm hinterließ. Grund dafür war die Tatsache, dass man Fernsehformate allgemein und Fernsehserien im Speziellen langsam aber sicher nicht mehr als nur als minderwertigen kleinen Bruder des Kinos ansah, sondern zu verstehen begann, dass man dort billiger erreichen konnte, was man im Kino erreichte, was zu höheren Produktionswerten für Fernsehserien führte, besonders im Bereich von Action Sequenzen. Der großte Spitzenreiter auf dem kleinen Bildschirm für hochwertige Action Sequenzen war die Rettungsschwimmer-Serie “Baywatch”.

1989 startete diese Serie, von der sich David Hasselhoff nach “Knight Rider”, einen weiteren Action-Erfolgstitel versprach, und sie lief, wenn man die letzten beiden Staffeln, die eigentlich eher ein Spin-Off waren, mitzählt immerhin bis  2001. Bei heuzutage Dauerbrennern der NCIS und Law and Order-Franchises mag das nicht nach viel klingen, aber elf Staffeln waren damals etwas durchaus beachtenswerten und sind das heutzutage eigentlich auch. Dabei war “Baywatch” alles andere als ein Instant-Hit. Schon nach der ersten Hälfte der ersten Staffel stand die Serie wieder vor dem Aus, und letztlich musste David Hasselhoff selbst als Produzent beispringen um die Serie zu retten. Er glaubte aber an ihr Potential, und der für damalige Zeiten letztich beispiellose Erfolg der Serie sollte ihm Recht geben. Heutztage würde die Serie vermutlich nach wenigen Folgen von der Social Media gecannelt werden, aber “Baywatch” war für mehr gut als nur für Diskussionen über Pamela Andersons wechselnde Oberweite oder den Karrierstart von Jason Momoa (wahre Geschichte, er wurde für “Baywatch Hawaii” entdeckt und erst durch die Serie Schauspieler, weswegen ich mich schief gelacht habe als er als Aquaman gecastet wurde). Die Serie konnte sich nicht nur deswegen so lange halten, weil Männlein und Weiblein mit gutaussehenden Rettungsschwimmern beider Geschlechter bedient wurden, sondern auch weil sie unglaublich anpassungsfähig war. Action, Sitcom, Romantik, Crime - in “Baywatch” war alles dabei. Parodien von Serienklassikern wie “Charlie’s Angels” und “Gilligans Island” waren ebenso dabei wie Auseinandersetzungen mit ernsten Themen wie Altzheimer, Krebs oder missbräuchlichen Beziehungen. In den 90ern sah sich einfach jeder “Baywatch” an, und besonders das weibliche Publikum schätzte die Serie, da hier Gleichberechtigung unter den Charakteren vorherrschte, mehr noch, oft hatten sogar die Frauen das Sagen und gerade mal Mitch war gleichberechtigt oder höher gestellt als sie.

Bei dem unglaublichen Erfolg der Serie war klar, dass ein Spin Off her musste. Und 1995 war er soweit: “Baywatch Nights” erblickte das Licht der Welt. Aber anders als erwartet war David Hasselhoff auch in dieser Serie mit dabei, hatte aber zugleich “Baywatch” selbst niemals verlassen, was wohl bedeutet, dass der Mann das Geheimnis des Klonen entdeckt haben muss, oder dass er einfach das ganze Jahr über ohne Pause durch drehte um zwei Staffeln pro Jahr produzieren zu können. Wie auch immer, um sich inhaltlich von der Mutterserie abzuheben war die Handlung des Spin-Offs ursprünglich darauf ausgelegt ein Crime Drama zu sein. Nachdem er sich in “Baywatch” selbst ja schon sehr oft als Hobbydetektiv betätigt hatte, gründet Mitch mit dem “Baywatch”-Strand-Polizisten und Token-Schwarzen der Mutterserie Garner im Spin-Off ein Detektiv-Büro und dort lösen die beiden unterstützt von ihrer neuen etwas tollpatischen Partnerin Ryan dann Kriminalfälle.

Soweit so unspektakulär, doch nun kommen wir zum interessanten Teil. Unüberraschenderweise konnte “Baywatch Nights” als 0-8-15-Format nicht mit der Mutterserie mithalten. Inhaltliche Änderungen Mitte der Staffel halfen nicht gegen die sinkenden Quoten, weswegen man sich für Staffel 2 eine inhaltliche Neuausrichtung überlegt hat. Denn Staffel 2 von “Baywatch Nights” sah Mitch auf einmal im Kampf gegen Monster und Bestien und andere übersinnliche Phänomene. Nein, kein Scherz, Mitch trifft einen Alien-Jungen, mit dem er eine empathische Verbindung eingeht, trifft Geister, an die er eigentlich nicht glaubt, und der Vorspann erweckt auf einmal den Anschein direkt aus einem Hardcore Horror-Film entsprungen zu sein. Rückblickend noch witziger ist Neuzugang Dorian Gregory, der Garner in der zweiten Staffel als schwarze männliche Hauptfigur ersetzt und Mitch ständig in die übersinnlichen Fälle hineinzieht, und der nach dem Ende von “Baywatch Nights” sieben von acht Jahren den treuen Polizisten-Verbündeten der Halliwell-Schwestern Daryl Morris in der Original “Charmed”-Serie spielen sollte. Im Vorspann ist er ständig mit den Wicca-Kerzen, die in “Charmed” so groß gefeatured werden sollten, zu sehen. Also, ja, das ist sogar noch witzig als die “Jason Momoa wird Aquaman”-Geschichte.

Auf jeden Fall muss gesagt werden, dass es bereits in “Baywatch” immer wieder einzelne Folgen mit übernatürlichen Elementen gab. Unvergessen ist der Zweitteiler mit dem Geist im Hotel, der eine besondere Verbindung zu Summer hatte, es gab eine Folge mit Aliens (vermutlich, vielleicht), einen Zweiteiler mit Weihnachtselfen (vermutlich, vielleicht) und die Hellseherin Destiny, die in der ersten Hälfte der ersten Staffel von “Baywatch Nights” sogar zu den Hauptfiguren gehörte. Übernatürliche Phänomene waren also nichts Neues für die Franchise, aber die zweite Staffel von “Baywatch Nights” nutzte diese nicht mehr sporadisch, sondern praktisch immer. Mancher Zuseher mag sich vielleicht sogar gefragt haben, ob die zweite Staffel überhaupt zum Canon gehört. Ja, Donna ist nun in beiden Serien Rettungsschwimmerin, aber dass Mitch sich 22 Folgen durch eine Mysterie-Serie scullied war nun wirklich nicht das, was man sich von einem “Baywatch”-Spin-Off erwartet hätte. Unüberraschenderweise endete die Serie mit dieser überaus seltsamen zweiten Staffel.

Was heute auf den ersten Blick klingt wie ein schlechter Witz, der genauso endet wie man es vorausgesehen hat, hatte damals aber durchaus Sinn. Tatsächlich muss man festhalen, dass wir es im Fall von “Baywatch Nights” mit einem rezeptionellen Missverständnis zu tun haben. Während man nämlich aus uneingeweihter denken könnte, “okay, klar wurden sie abgesetzt, wenn sie auf einmal statt Mördern Geister und Aliens jagen”, gibt es aber eine Sache über “Baywatch Nights”, die ich bisher nur am Rande anklingen habe lassen: “Baywatch Nights” war nämlich in Wahrheit eine Parodie-Serie.

Wie bereits erwähnt war Humor “Baywatch” nicht fremd, im Gegenteil Comedy war eigentlich mehr oder weniger immer Teil des Konzepts, zumindest dann, wenn nicht gerade jemand grausam zu Tode kam, und Selbstironie war der Serie nicht fremd. Gefühl unzählige Folgen drehen sich darum, dass Mitch gernevt unangenehme Situationen überstehen muss, und es gab Folgen wie das “Drei Engel für Charlie”-Crossover, die im Grunde vor allem auch eine Parodie der anderen Serie waren. Mitchs Hobby des Detektivspielens war etwas, das sich mehr zufällig als geplant entwickelt hat - nachdem immer wieder Krimi-Elemente in die Serie eingebaut worden waren, war es nur folgerichtig, dass Mitch als Hauptcharakter irgendwann wissen würde, was er tut, wenn er jemanden hinterher schnüffelt. Deswegen ja die Idee den Spin-Off so aufzubauen. Nur, dass Mitch nicht unbedingt besonders gut in diesem ganzen Detektiv-Spiel ist bzw. wenn er es ist, dann weil es sein muss, um Leben zu retten und nicht weil er so ein toller Detektiv wäre.

Als man nun den Spin-Off machte war relativ klar, das man keinen Hardboiled Krimi erschaffen wollte. Stattdessen ... Nun, wenn ich sage, dass Mitch einen Fall lösen muss indem er eine Drag Show abliefert und seine Partnerin Ryan wie erwähnt tollpatischig ist und bei ihrer Szene im Vorspann vom einem Scheinwerfer geblendet wird, dann könnt ihr euch vielleicht denken worauf es stattdessen hinaus gelaufen ist. Im Grunde war die erste Staffel von “Baywatch Nights” eine Parodie auf “Das Model und der Schnüffler” mit Mitch und Ryan als ungleiches Paar, die irgendwann zusammen kommen würden oder auch nicht, während sie gemeinsam Fälle lösten. Nicht umsonst gehörte die Hellseherin Destiny zu den ursprünglichen Hauptfiguren, bei der wie Garner es ausdrückt “der Fahrstuhl nicht bis ganz noch Oben fährt”. Doch ähnlich wie bei der Mutterserie mussten 22 Folgen gefüllt werden, und manchmal verirrte sich durchaus ein “Baywatch”-Skript in den Spin-Off, was zu der einen oder anderen wirklich harten Folge führte. Trotzdem im Grunde ihres Herzens war die Serie nicht ernst gemeint.

Und deswegen ist es auch nur logisch, dass die Konzeptänderung dazu führte, dass “Baywatch Nights” von einer Krimi-Parodie in seiner zweiten Staffel zu einer “Akte X”-Parodie mutierte. Ich habe nicht umsonst darauf verwiesen, dass die 90 die Blütezeit der Science Fiction im Fernsehen war, und “Akte X” war damals neben “Baywatch” der andere beispiellose Erfolg im Fernsehen. Deswegen ist Ryan in zweiten Staffel auf einmal Wissenschaftlerin, und deswegen leugnet Mitch das Übernatürliche, wenn immer es den Autoren in den Kram passt: Staffel 2 war eine ziemlich deutliche Parodie auf “Akte X”.

Nur, dass das Publikum das nicht verstanden hat. Der Hauptanteil der Zuseher von “Baywatch Nights” waren “Baywatch”-Fans. C.J. war diejenige, die an Hellseher und Geister glaubt, Mitch musste ein Skeptiker sein, die Scully im Team, aber für “Akte X” braucht es eine Scully und einen Mulder. Und Nebelschwaden im Vorspann sind genau das, was Leute, die sich an Sonne, Strand und Rettungsschwimmern erfreuen eigentlich nicht sehen wollen. Staffel 1 war unaufregend aber nett anzusehen, es war bekanntes Territorium, die Rettungsschwimmer von Baywatch lösen immer wieder mal Kriminalfälle, warum sollten Mitch und Garner das also nicht in ihrer Freizeit auch tun? Aber Monster jagen? Oh, nein, das passt nicht. Parodie-Folgen waren eine Sache, aber ein ganzes Parodie-Format? Mitte der 90er war so etwas im Grunde noch unbenkbar.

Deswegen musste “Baywatch Nights” sterben. Weil die Serie im Grunde ihrer Zeit voraus war und zu viel von den Zusehern und den eigenen Autoren erwartet hat.

Was schade ist. War der Spin-Off ein Hauptgewinn? Sicherlich nicht. Aber er war ein überaus interessanter Versuch mehr zu sein als er auf den ersten Blick zu sein schien. Und heute ist er eine überaus interessante Geschichte, über die man zu anderen sagen kann: “Ja, das ist wirklich passiert, ich war dabei”.

[luviestarz]

lee haechan fic recs! part 2 ❤︎

note! : used all the old fics i could find that i enjoyed

❤︎ Love at First Bite…literally!? - @huangberryyy (Wherein Haechan finally gets the chick flick moment he dreamt of. Or wherein Haechan finally understands the appeal of being bitten by bitches.)

❤︎ the bet - @tyonfs (you and lee donghyuck created a bet that stated you two would have sex if he made the winning shot. now, you’re pinned up against the lockers, about to do the one thing best friends don’t do, and you definitely shouldn’t be wanting more.)

❤︎ Babe Watch [M]  - @milfgyuu (You and Haechan both have big plans this summer. You’re going to earn yourself a spot on the infamous Baywatch team and Haechan’s deadset on getting the girl. It just so happens that both your plans intersect quite nicely.)

❤︎ [8:02pm] - @nctsworld (in which a spontaneous dance in the kitchen with donghyuck sparks a revelation about how you feel about him.)

❤︎ beware the panty perv ♡ ldh x reader - @guanana (there’s a mystery at hand! it seems like your panties have been vanishing into thin air whenever you need them most? angry that your favorite pairs of panties are going missing, you decide to put on your detective hat in hopes of finding the mysterious lingerie bandit. but between all of the guys that you sleep with— you can’t seem to pinpoint who the culprit could be. it couldn’t possibly be your absolute geek of a tutor for calculus, right? nah.)

❤︎ september 19. - @hyucks-archive

❤︎ SURE THING (L.DH) - @domjaehyun

❤︎ young gods (l.dh) - @606fm (in the midst of committing felonies in the dark, lee donghyuck—your literal partner in crime and ride or die for life—manages to snag your heart in the process without you even realizing it. i mean, what the hell did you expect from seoul city’s most notorious robber?)

❤︎ [7:43am] - @aesthyuckic

❤︎ haechan is obsessed with you. - @haechurch

❤︎ the right one. (m) - @starryhyuck (donghyuck doesn’t like you going on dates with anyone else, especially lee jeno. you’re supposed to be his. and only his.)

❤︎ meow haechan using a lot of tongue meow meow  - @ofjunemoment (or: you’re thinking of getting a tongue piercing, but you’re not sure how haechan feels)

❤︎ attention - @pinkynana (gamer boys are the easiest target for you. they barely interact with any other woman so the moment you find out haechan was a gamer boy, you promised to sit on his lap any time he wanted to.)

❤︎ free falling - @sunpopz (your friend haechan has been acting kinda weird lately.. does it have anything to do with you? maybe it does, considering he keeps looking at you like you're gonna kill him any second. well, that and he randomly liked a three month old picture of you.)

❤︎ haechan — just for you (m) - @hyuckmov (because haechan thought you were irresistible when you were clever, if only because he knew he was the only one who could make your brain go empty.)

❤︎ Started With A Kiss - @sundaysundaes (Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?)

❤︎ if I lose my mind - @slightlymore (you’ve never cared much for your dreams. they were always confusing nonsense you forgot in the morning. this until you started to have the same dream again and again and again: a lobby, pleasant elevator music in the background, many golden doors, a handsome young man welcoming you and asking where you wanted to go that night. his name was haechan and apparently you weren’t supposed to know that, let alone fall in love with him.)

❤︎ this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently. - @navyhyuck (running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new. what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.)

❤︎ face sitting - @haetkeeper

❤︎ pervert (M) - @haechannielove (you confront haechan on his disgusting and constant objectification of you.)

❤︎ Pearlescent - @d-nghy-ck (A shoreline sunset spent cozied up against Hyuck dives deep past surface level. His lips profess his heart’s intent; his eyes reflect waves dancing in iridescent glimmers; his love whispered into your skin evokes heated passion.) 

❤︎ i love it, starboy - @staargirlblog (slight yandere! idol! haechan x fangirl! reader)

❤︎ college boyfriend!haechan - @lvlyynim

❤︎ perv!haechan - @4everhyucks

❤︎ My Boy. - @prodbymaui (A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.)

[rimqueen]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

[dilf-docs]

The Rock N' Roll Got Harder and Softer

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: common sense isn't really your strongest suit. so here you are, riding a stranger's bike on halloween night. hey, he saved you! with one hell of a costume, no doubt. because it has to be one, right?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (do we see the blog name? get used to it), smut, flirty reader! she's got no shame just game ++ also overshares (sorry if this trait is mischaracterizing you, everything will be okay❤️) praise kink, oral f. receiving (have u seen that tongue? ik its abt eddie but venom's tongue plays a part there... he defo going in my hear me out cake), does this count as sub!eddie idk?? the man is touch starved, p. in v. (use protection okay!! don't be like these dumb horny bitches), reader gets harrassed but the lethal protector saves the day!!

word count: 5,008 words

side note: i was re watching venom 1 and watching venom 2 since my friends want to see the third, so i got the tom hardy and his plump princess lips have to be mine virus!! like i wish i was kidding but after watching the movies and the top 100 dilf poll on twitter i felt in the need to use my hands (iykyk) ++ after finding out i have a pattern for lonely fucked up dilfs (first with old man logan now eddie). also, irdgaf halloween just passed; let's pretend ur calendar got stuck on the 31st as u read this. also, this can happen after venom (2018) but the time isn't really important!

This is stupid.

It's a cold october night, the wind blowing in your face, and you're navigating this part of the neighborhood you don't know in nothing but a skimpy red bathing suit, like it's a hot summer day.

Dressing up as Pamela Anderson in Baywatch sounded much better a couple months ago; not now, when all the people passing by ogle your body up and down, whether it be with lust or judgment.

Your night has gone to shit: you feel cold, hungry, tipsy and vulnerable. One thing is wanting to be objectified by the possible candidates you would take home from the party, and other is being eyed by strangers who look at your body like hungry wolves.

You finally spot a mini-market amid the packed street, blue hues of light providing some sense of relief.

After getting something to drink and eat, you'll probably feel better and have the energy to walk home; there's no way you and your very small costume are getting inside an uber at ten o'clock tonight.

The bell chimes in as you enter the store, but the lady behind the counter doesn't even glance your way, focused on the TV behind her.

"Hi" she waves her hand absentmindedly, "Do you have any water?"

She mutters something that sounds like an annoyed of course we do, and points to the freezer in the back, still without looking.

"Alright, thanks" you say, walking to the freezer section and grabbing a bottle you chug until it's almost empty. You're still hungry, but at least your throat doesn't feel like you've eaten sand anymore.

With the bottle in your hand, you take the time to scour around the store, looking for something to eat. You finally decide on some chocolates; heck, it's halloween. Going home and stuffing your face with a bunch of candy for what's left of the night does sound nice.

You finally spot the chocolates on a display, moving towards it. As you're about to grab a bunch and go, another hand interrupts you.

"Oh!" you exclaim out loud, stepping back.

Maybe you're haven't gone trick or treating in years, but you will treat yourself tonight. And not with the chocolates. There's a God out there, definitely, who has blessed you not only with great curves but also with the chance of showing them off in the precise moment.

"Sorry!" your voice chirps a bit too excited for your liking. Control yourself. You clear your throat, suspecting the burn in your cheeks gives you away.

You're supposed to be confident! Flirty and charming! You're young and pretty! But how can you not be nervous when the stranger looks like that?

The eye candy who sports tattoos and a bad boy aroma that makes you drool; the jacket and beat up look just adds the perfect layer to the whole vibe. You're known to have a preference for men who look like he does. Something about the dangerous makes your heart race and skin prickle. Then your eyes travel to the motorcycle helmet in his right hand. Yummy.

The heat in your cheeks returns.

You don't even know his name, yet you've oggled him up and down without shame. It's probably all the pent up energy you had saved for the party. You figure it has to be invested somewhere else. Maybe with him.

Him, who's way older than the other guys you've been with. But that just just makes it even better.

"It's okay" he speaks up, and his voice is not only what you imagined it to be. The rich grave undertone is making your panties wet just with the sound. "You go first"

He points to the stand full of said treats. You motion forward, not without putting some extra sway and effort in your walk. By the reflection of the mirror in the corner, you know you've at least got his attention.

"Done" you say, leaving some space for him to pass. "Would the gentleman give me the honor of knowing his name?"

"I'm Eddie" he extends his hand, "Eddie Brock".

You shouldn't be this excited to shake a hand but when his large palm engulfs yours, you find it hard to let go.

With the closeness, you take another look at his face, getting lost in his warm eyes and the eyebags that adorn them. It's unfair how good they suit him; unlike you after a wild night out.

"Nice to meet you. Very nice, indeed" you purr.

You also make sure to bat your eyelashes in a way your friends tease you but has proven to be effective every time.

It seems to have done its magic, because he also takes a look at you.

But it's different.

You can sense something else is happening when his eyebrows furrow first, then face contorting into a disgusted expression as Venom says: I want to eat her, Eddie. I bet she tastes as sweet as she sounds! It's too tempting!

"Shut up" he mumbles (but loud enough for you to hear), then mutters something like We're just supossed to eat the bad guys! but you're confused and hurt, so you don't really pay attention; your ego really taking a blow tonight.

"I beg your pardon?"

Eddie curses under his breath, "that wasn't for you".

"Right" you chuckle dryly, looking around at the empty store. "Don't see who else that could be for"

"I'm sorry, it's hard to explain" he rushes the apology, looking rather embarrassed. "Now, if you excuse me".

And walks past you like it's nothing. Maybe that weird spark you felt was just on you; the interest isn't mutual.

"Hi Mrs. Chen" you hear him salute the lady behind the counter. Sighing, you grab your chocolates and head to cash out, adding another deception to your already bad night.

The bell chimes again when you make your way to the line, behind Eddie, but this time, you don't bother to look.

"Well, hello" the voice behind you says. It takes you a few seconds to realize they're talking to you.

"Hi" you mutter a bit annoyed, looking at the front. The silence is dense, the beep of each of Eddie's (million) of chocolates being the only silence filling the store.

"Won't even spare a glance, doll?" they continue, despite your clear apathy. "C'mon, lemme see if that face is as pretty as your ass"

Blood rushes to your face, and you're so embarrassed your body stiffs, fully aware the other two people in the store have noticed. You hug your body, because there isn't really anything you can cover yourself with right now, not daring to look back.

Well, fuck me.

If you thought leaving the party was going to solve your problems, it's only proven to cause more.

Eddie finishes, leading to your turn. You give a strained smile to Mrs. Chen, and she just gives you a look of pity.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" they start to get irritated, and you just pray they don't follow you outside once you're done. "Are you deaf, Pamela?" he mocks, making your blood boil and skin sweat.

Mrs. Chen is done, but the stranger isn't taking your silence as an answer. Before you can leave, they grab your hand.

"Already leaving? You haven't even given me your name yet"

It's such a silly thought to have right now, but you realize you hadn't given Eddie your name either.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but she's clearly not interested, buddy" a voice speaks out, and you know it. It's probably the panic but you hadn't realize Eddie's still here. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, and even thought you hate having to depend on a man to be left alone, you need his help; so you plead, boring into his warm chocolate eyes.

"In case you haven't noticed, this is a two people conversation" the stranger snarls.

"Looks more like a one sided conversation to me" he bites back, making the stranger mad. That's the last thing you need. You just want to go home and curl under your warm and soft blankets; you've even lost your appetite.

"It's none of your business. Are you not understanding?"

"Oh, but that's the problem. You're the one that isn't understanding" what appears to be black surrounds his before bare neck, and you feel like you haven't completely sobered up, your mind playing games with you. The black engulfs his whole body, making him taller and more intimidating.

"It is" he threats on a distorted voice. Now, where Eddie's face used to be, another one replaces him: with white instead of two eyes and a big mouth with teeth and a really long tongue.

You hadn't even drink that much. No way this is real.

The stranger gulps, petrified. Oh, so they see it too; it's not you.

"Sorry, idiot. The lifeguard shift is over" and before the stranger replies, his head dissapear inside the mouth, chopping it off.

"Fuck!" you curse out loud, the body falling limp at your side.

A shiver runs through your back. This is a nightmare.

"Well, now that makes us two who know your secret now" Mrs. Chen adds in a rather monotone voice, and you wonder if people have gone insane―you included.

You can't even speak. Less when the black starts dissappearing, and it's Eddie's face and body again.

"Hey, sorry about that" you don't know who Eddie is talking to when saying that. "You okay?"

Okay? Sure, that you are. Fine? Not really.

"It's alright if you're scared" he reaches out to you but you flinch. He looks used to it, apparently, "I know this is weird".

You chuckle, bemused. "Weird? Not even in my wildest acid trip, I could've imagine that"

"It's easy to explain, but hard to understand" he begins, but trails off. "Would you, uh, let me?"

Well, he had saved you. If he wanted to eat you and have you go the same fate your harasser did, he would've done it by now.

Besides, common sense isn't really your strongest suit. Never was. You've had so many problems stem from it, including tonight's events, that you could probably write a column or do a podcast of it.

"Sure" you agree, "as long as you don't eat me".

You regret the (attempt at a) joke as soon as it leaves your mouth, but that is gone when you hear him laugh. A little pride fills your chest, especially at the velvet-like sound.

"I won't" he raises his palms in a playful manner, "but he wants to".

Not anymore, you don't eat the people you save!

"He?" you quirk an eyebrow, "you better rush that explanation, yeah?"

"Sure" he chuckles, "uh?"

"Y/n" you answer, and the honeyed tone is back. God, you need to get a grip. This guy could snap you in, "but just for tonight, Casey Jean Parker. So you better put some good use to it before she leaves, cowboy"

"Will take it into account, blonde" he laughs at your hair.

You hate it because it reminds you of Anne, pussy.

"Hey, it's a good wig!" you playfully slap his shoulder. "You wish you had hair like this".

You flip it, to which he just laughs. Then he bids goodbye to Mrs. Chen and you both head outside, where the wind hits your body cruelly.

A curse leaves your mouth, "Shit"

Eddie notices. Before you can react, he's putting his jacket over your shoulders.

"You got the seasons messed up, baby" he jokes, the pet name rolling off his tongue a bit too easily, "don't even think about taking it off; don't want you to catch a cold".

There's a beat of silence before he asks:

"So, about the costume..."

"I know" you properly put his jacket on. It smells like him: pine, gasoline, sweat and a bit of chocolate. "It sounded better when I came up with it in August"

"No!" he corrects hastily, then coughs "I like it".

Light pink creeps up his cheeks.

"Good to know I still got the charm" you joke, winking.

"Was this" he points with his ringed fingers up and down, "for a contest?"

"No, a party. Jesus, how old do you think I am?" you chastise in a mocking tone. "It's what pretty college girls do, Eddie: party".

Venom likes parties! I like her, Eddie!

"And if that's what you do, pretty girl" two can play the game it seems, "what exactly are you doing out of the water, Ms. Parker?"

You scoff, shocked. "You're supposed to give me your answer first".

Fortunately for Brock, you have a bad habit to overshare; it gets worse, especially with men. God knows you don't know such thing as boundaries.

You lay against the concrete wall, exhaling. Your worries condense in front of you as Eddie waits attentively, examining the way your face falls.

"I was supposed to go to a party today, hence the costume" you motion to your body, "but things went wrong".

"So you went?"

"And left" you add, "which wasn't part of the plan".

He lays next to you, crossing his arms. You try not to get distracted with the closeness.

"Why did you?"

"Leave? Because... well, things happened".

Your skin prickles uncomfortably, like it did back at the house you ran away from―the whole reason you're here, next to Eddie.

"That thing being...?" Brock presses, then realizing you probably don't want to tell, so he shuts up.

"Don't worry" it's like you guess his thoughts, "It's just... sort of embarrassing".

You breathe in some air.

"He wasn't supossed to be there. My ex" you clarify, "yet he went. And guess what? With his new girlfriend! And alright, I'm not a girl who holds grudges, but it hasn't even been two months since we broke up and now he's matching costumes with her?"

Saying it out loud sounds a tad bit childish, but Eddie doesn't seem to be judging, and your pride continues to be bruised, so you carry on with your little rant.

"So I drank a little too much and went up to them. I don't know what took over me, but one second I was dancing and then Pamela Anderson in Baywatch was grabbing Pamela Anderson as Tommy Lee's wife by her hair. Real blonde hair, on top of that... that bitch. I decided to be Pamela Anderson first! Which, by the way, would never do that. She truly is a girl's girl" pause, "by that I mean parading around with the guy I ended things with because of you"

We should eat them.

Instead of what Venom said, Eddie asks:

"Your boyfriend cheated on you?"

"Yeah" embarrassment washes over you, "The owner of the house is friend's with her. So, I decided it was for the best to leave. My not so bright idea that followed was to walk to the nearest store for some junk and head home. And now I ended on this side of town I don't know. Lucky me"

Lucky us that found you.

"Wow" Eddie manages to muster after all your information dump and Venom's little comment, "they're idiots. I'm sorry".

"Thanks, but my night is still ruined" you take a look at your legs, "now I have to walk home, and I suspect, bare―without your jacket".

He doesn't know what takes over him when he says, or maybe it's Venom giving him the boost of courage he needs.

"Need'a ride?" your face morphs into surprise. He adds, "Keep my jacket. That way you can give it back when we're there"

Your eyes trail to the bike parked on the side, which you guess belongs to him. This is hard because the decision is so easy.

Hey, sometimes you gotta do it for the plot!

"We both win" is his way of insisting. "No more stares, and my jacket gets express delivered to me".

You don't need that much insisting, almost instantly caving in, walking over the bike and hoping behind him―like you know he'd never hurt you; full on trusting him.

"I don't have a spare one. Use mine" he apologizes, handing you the helmet he carried before.

"Thanks" you accept, "at this point I'll have to pay you. Do you accept my chocolates? It's all I got with me"

"We'll discuss those arrangements later" his deep voice comments, and well, you might just give him anything he wants!

Before you can regret your life choices, the engine roars, Eddie making his way through the street, all your surroundings reduced to a blur.

"Woah!" you shout, but it gets lost in the wind and speed. Luckily for you, the wig is secured inside the helmet. At this speed, there would be a blonde mop on the street somewhere.

"Liking it?" he asks over the noise. You only can happily humm in response.

Honestly, you've never felt this... free before. It's liberating: your hair dancing in the wind, the crisp trepidation in your fingers, the way you dare yourself to let loose and let the experience consume you. It's the first time you truly feel alive.

All you can think now is on the adrenaline coursing through your system. That and the way you're holding onto Eddie's thick back, your arms caging his form. You can feel his heartbeat too, as steady as yours. You can't help but wonder if it's because of the ride or the passenger he's carrying in the back.

You keep giving him directions whenever he looks back, keeping it like that until you both arrive at your apartment complex.

Once the bike is parked, he whistles. "Nice. Much better than mine"

You give his helmet back, taking the wig off in the process too.

"I'll have to see it to believe it" you tease, and if he heard, Eddie pretends not to.

There's some silence until you understand it's over: the original "stuffing and watching horror movies until I sleep" isn't sounding as good as extending your time with Eddie. For some reason, you can't seem to let go yet, and accept that tonight was a rare occasion that will only be once.

"Well, I guess this is it" you hate the way the obvious disappointment drips in your tone, "thank you, Eddie. Goodnight"

You hop off and take the jacket out of your body. If your skin gets goosebumps, you'll blame the cold.

Guess Pamela Anderson didn't work her magic tonight.

"Wait!"

Or maybe she did.

"Yes?" you turn around, smiling a bit too much.

Eddie doesn't look at you when he says, "we didn't discuss the payment"

Your red lips purse into a smile.

"We can discuss the details inside" and point out your apartment on the third floor, "for the cold, obviously. It's warm up there, you know; I've been told they like my heat"

You finally recognize the feeling from before, at the store. It's mutual. The tension; it still lingers.

"Sure" he says sounding all but that, "show me the way".

Your voice drops as you say, "Follow me, then"

And you lead the way: wet spot in between your legs, growing as your excitement. As you open the door, Eddie can't help but think the inside is so you: sweet and girly―like a strawberry bubblegum.

"Like what you see?" you joke, sitting in the couch. It has double meaning, obviously, but Eddie is so oblivious he just answers:

"It's so... you" mentally slapping himself when he says it, "I mean... you know, pink"

Idiot! She's talking about herself.

You giggle, "And?"

Patting the empty spot next to you, Brock walks over, like in a trance. You can see him gulp―nervous, the adam's apple on his throat bobbing.

Coward! Say something.

"Pretty..." he breathes out.

His hand finds its way to your bare thigh, and the touch is so electric, it takes you a lot not to jump at the contact.

Now kiss her!

"Don't be scared, Eddie" your voice is so low he swears he's dreaming. "I don't bite" there's a pause before you add, "unless you want me to".

Do it!

He would be lying if he said Venom is the reason why he leans forward, wrapping his lips around yours. Why he suddenly feels hungry, starving, eating your mouth out like he hasn't had a meal in days is beyond him.

"That's right" you moan between kisses, "cash your pay out, cowboy".

His hands tug on your hair as he deepens the kiss, a few groans echoing around the apartment.

"I like it" he twirls a strand in between your fingers, "suits you better".

There's a hearty laug emitting from your chest, "you do? Show me then"

It's like something snapped inside of him.

His hand moves to hug you from behind, right at the bare spot the swim suit had.

"You smell so sweet" Eddie's inhaling the vainilla scent off your soft skin, and Venom growls in pleasure, "like a pastry".

You have to laugh again, because this man is clearly touched starved.

Now he's rubbing his nose along the length of your neck, leaving some wet kisses that have you swearing his tongue isn't human. He mumbles incoherences like he's drunk, begging he wants to shove his mouth where it belongs: that being between your legs, to taste what he’s been craving for so long.

"Well, if you want it so bad" you make a play at his earlier words, "eat it".

So with trembling hands, he's pushing the little piece of bathing suit until your clit is exposed. His other hand grips your hip, and it doesn't take that long for him to fall onto his knees, the pink fluffly carpet on the floor providing some ground.

He beggins to toy with it, leaving you to collect a gasp. Alright! He has experience. Not that you ever doubted it, but now that he's here, his fingers inside of you, you can't help but feel the luckiest girl in the world.

"Thought the sweet you wanted was some chocolates" you manage to joke between moans, his thick fingers too busy lubing the needy area.

He gets another moan out of you, "this is better" grabbing a finger out, he licks a bit of your essence left on his fingers, "tastes much better. Look at you, so wet already; good girl"

Now he's doing tight little circles, his thick fingers speeding up the pace―quicker and quicker, until you're writhing in his grip. Your red nail dig into his forearm leaving little crescents. The haze may be too much that you don't know if the way they instantly heal is something you imagined or not.

"P-please, Eddie" you mewl.

Let me try, Eddie.

Without explaining, his tongue begins licking your inner thighs where your liquids dripped. It sends a shiver down your spine, and God, how thankful you are about leaving the party. The consequences of your petty fight and disastrous little adventure didn't end up being so bad.

"Sweet" he exclaims in that distorted voice back from the store. Your eyes go wide, so he rushes an "I'll explain later".

He doesn't give you much time to dwell on it before his tongue finds its way to your core again: the muscle licking the wet folds of your sensitive clit before diving fully. You swear his tongue has gotten longer with the way he explores your warm insides, quickly finding the spot no one but yourself has correctly pleased before.

Soft sobs fall from your lips. "Yes, More! P-please!"

His tongue continues its ministrations, almost lazily against it. Your body tenses up, reacting to him so well, and the familiar warmth pools in your abdomen.

He keeps licking until you’re twitching in over-sensitivity. A groan escapes his drooling lips, "I'm still a gentleman, you know?" the vibration his voice makes in between your legs sends a delicious wave that does nothing but ignite the fire pooling in the low of your stomach. "Ladies first"

You deliciously cum on his awaiting tongue. Even in your haze, you find his eyes, and the previous warm brown looks closer to hungry now, his pupils blown wide.

"Go ahead" you encourage, "be a good boy for me and taste it".

His fingers lick your remains off of them, his tongue making an obscene display.

"Will you let me pay you, now?"

He doesn't even need to wait, his hand eagerly taking his cock out of his pants―taking the sweat pants out in record time, sliding his girth between your legs, rubbing it against your folds that give him a warm welcome, coating it in your wetness.

Eddie slides inside you with ease, his hands resting on your waist as he slams his entire length inside you. The couch creaks, the only other sound in the apartment your hiss, because of the initial stretch. He gives you time to adjust and then he starts moving. 

"Y/n, God. You pretty sweet thing" his hot breathe mumbles against your ear.

Never in your life you would've thought you'd gone home with a complete stranger, but by the way Eddie Brock is deep inside you right now, you may do it more often. Or even better, bring him back. Maybe meet his apartment next time.

Eddie thinks he's gone insane. He's never had sex like this before. Not even on his wildest dreams. Hell, doesn't know if it's the lack of activity before you, your filthy mouth dripping with moans or the way you perfectly wrap around him, or maybe his newfound stamina he could finally put to use, thanks to Venom. Maybe it's all that, but who cares? God, he's loving every second of it.

Eddie uses his hands to grab your ass, holding onto the soft flesh so firm, you'll have bruises tomorrow for sure. He starts pumping you fast and deep like an animal. You muffle your screams against the crook of his neck, fully aware that doesn't stop the paper thin walls from telling your neighbours the good time you're having.

You feel your moves start to get unsteady, your orgasm closer and closer. "I'm c-close" you blurt out and he growls instead of talking. The way your body jolts with each of his poundings is insane. Your friend will never let this go if you tell them. But it just feels so fucking good.

"Fuck!"

Your whole body shakes when the wave of pleasure heats you. His hand is suprinsingly soft, caressing your cheek as you rest your forehead against his to catch your breathe.

"That's the best sex I've ever had" he confesses, his voice sounding drunk. Every drop of alcohol in your system has completely vanished by now, but you feel dizzy too, the overstimulation driving your senses to it's limits.

But it doesn't make you stop.

"How can you rate something that hasn't finished?" you move your body so Eddie stays against the coach. When he realizes what you're trying to do, he half-supresses a moan. "If you want to give your opinion, you better finish the whole plate".

So now you're on top of him, riding his cock like nothing; you must also have a symbiote inside of you, because Eddie can't explain your infinite stamina. So young, so pretty and so goddamn tight; he really won tonight, huh?

The change of position makes his cock slightly change the angle, hitting your g-spot. "Oh my god, right here!" you gasp. Your pussy clenches while you keep bouncing on his dick. If it weren't for the bathing suit, your tits would be bouncing. That doesn't mean he doesn't imagine them, your nipples perking through the fabric making it all too easy.

"You're so perfect" he whispers against your shoulder, "you sweet little thing".

If he keeps calling you like that, you might ask him to stay the night.

You feel like it, so, as a reward, you press your lips against his and he moans at your cunt clenching. He knows you are close again.

"Cum for me, y/n" he demands in his deep voice. Your name in his lips is such an addictive sound, you're sure you've reached heaven.

"Cum with me, Eddie" you manage to say.

So now he sits a little straighter on your poor couch (that's seen and taken only so much) so he can wrap his other arm around your waist. You take him deeper every time, even if now the position makes it a bit uncomfortable, but every shiver of pleasure you get is worth it.

"At least look at me when you do it" his brown orbs bore into yours. You can't hold back any longer, your hips rolling to increase the friction.

Your second orgasm washes over you: toes curling and body shaking. You've never felt more tired and energetic in your life. So you fall in Eddie's strong tattoed arms. He joins you, painting your tight walls with his thick and white shots of cum.

You are both out of breathe but Eddie takes his time and kisses you deeply.

"I think this life guard is out of duty for now" you mumble sleepily against his arms, tracing lazily his tattoos. He chuckles, moving one of his hands to brush strands of your damp hair from your forehead.

"What about the chocolates?" he jokes.

"Fuck them" you yawn, "stay here". He might've heard it wrong.

Stupid Eddie and stupid little human brain. She wants us here!

After some minutes of silence your sleepy voice mumbles, "You didn't explain me anything, cheater. If you want to stay, talk".

He feels you rest your head on his shoulder, sleep taking control of your form. You look so cute, he starts to forget how shitty his life actually is.

Hey! I can hear your thoughts, idiot. Your life isn't shitty anymore, I'm here!

"How about a bed time story? I promise I won't leave any detail out"

You cuddle closer to his warm body, "Promise?"

He intertwines his pinky finger with yours, promising himself this won't be the last time he sees you.

"Promise"