#Front Suspension Guide | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

4ranghaes · 2 months ago

Note

Heyy, can you do a bnd reaction to their s/o cutting their hair short randomly??

Also can I be anon 🦖?

hiya!!!! of course, 🦖 anon!! sorry this took so long lol

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd reacting to your hair being cut short

ot6 bnd x reader [fluff]

-> you knocked on the door of the dorm, practically bouncing on your heels as you waited for the door to open. fresh from the hairdresser, washed and blowdried, you were ready to finally show your boyfriend what you’d been secretly hinting to for months. though, suddenly you were worried… what if he hated it? he did love playing with your hair, after all…

sungho🎀 [gender neutral!reader]

“sweetheart!” sungho exclaimed, opening his arms as he swung open the front door.

you scrunched up your face in suspense, looking hopefully at your boyfriend as you just stood for a moment. his mouth dropped open, eyes widening. his hand flew up to his face, covering his open mouth - a habit beloved by you until now.

“don’t cover your face, i need to see your reaction!” you exclaimed, laughing slightly to try and ease any tension. “so…? do you hate it?”

“no!” sungho exclaimed suddenly, face serious, “are you seriously worried i wouldn’t like it?!”

“yeah,” you crumbled, collapsing into his arms with a pout, “i was so worried, sung!”

“no, baby, you look gorgeous,�� he smiled, rocking you back and forth slightly in his arms, “always do. i was just shocked!”

you sighed in relief, hearing the door close behind you and pulling away to take your shoes off.

“here, let me look at you,” sungho said, placing his fingers under your chin and guiding you to look straight at him, “ah, so beautiful. it looks great! it’s really come out well. are you happy with it?”

riwoo🦦🍡 [gender neutral!reader]

“hey, sweet,” riwoo smiled, his hand moving almost straight away to the small of your back, guiding you inside before shutting the door behind you.

“hey, baby,” you sang, waiting in suspense as your boyfriend bent down to start taking your shoes off as he always did, “sanghyuk-ah.”

“hmm?” he looked up with a hum, leaving you motioning to your hair. he broke out into a cheeky grin.

“were you doing that on purpose?!” you exclaimed, “ya! lee sanghyuk, don’t do that! you scared me so much, do you know how worried i am that you’d hate it?!”

“of course, i was teasing you! i already knew you were at the hairdresser, i saw your location,” he teased, standing back up straight and pulling you into a hug, kissing your temple gently, “why would i hate it?! you look amazing, baby. it really suits you.”

“you think?”

riwoo pulled away and nodded, he took your hand, guiding you into the dorms, “come on. you can get a real reaction from the kids.”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [fem!reader]

“my love!” he cried, the door bursting open as you were enveloped into his arms at the same time, “oh, i missed you so much! my beautiful girl, how are you? hmm?”

he’d pulled away from the hug by the time he finished speaking, but now he was pressing kisses all over your face. before you could respond and ask him to give you a good look over, he’d kneeled down, untying your shoes and helping you step out of them, blabbering on about how much he missed you and how much he couldn’t stand to be with woonhak anymore (a lie).

“jaehyun!”

your boyfriend stopped blinking up at you, he stood up suddenly, his eyes wide. his hands flew up, feeling your now short hair.

“oh my god!” he gasped, laughing slightly, “oh, my beautiful girl, you look amazing! when did you do that?!”

“just now,” you grinned, “do you like it?”

jaehyun rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing your arm and dragging you through to the living area as he spoke, “are you joking me? y/n, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you could do anything and i would lap it up like a dog because i’m so in love with you. guys! guys! look at y/n’s new haircut, doesn’t she look amazing?!”

you laughed, what were you even worried for?

though jaehyun had asked the question, he wasn’t interested in the answer, playing with your hair again as he gazed at your face lovingly, “so pretty. my girl.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ [gender neutral!reader]

“hey y/n–” taesan said, opening the door. he stopped, mouth dropping open with a slight smile, “oh.”

you continued staring at him, nervous look on your face.

“say something other than ‘oh’!” you laughed, shutting the door behind you as you stepped in the dorm.

“why?” your boyfriend smirked, “do you like it?”

“dongmin,” you whined, “just tell me what you think.”

“why do you care what i think?” he pushed, walking to his bedroom as you followed after him, “do you like me that much?!”

you rolled your eyes, “you’re such a dick! dongmin, please.”

“what?” he chuckled, laying back in his bed, his arm splayed out for you to lay with him.

you continued to stand at the end of his bed, hands on hips as you stared at him, and the stupid smirk plastered on his face. “when did you get it done?”

“just now,” you said, sighing as you crossed your arms, “i came straight here afterwards because i wanted to see my lovely boyfriend’s reaction to my new look. but no! he’s just a dick.”

“aww baby, don’t be like that,” he pouted, “come here.” you rolled your eyes, walking over and snuggling up to his side. “it looks gorgeous, baby.”

“really?” you gasped, leaning up and looking at him.

taesan’s hand came and rested on your face, pulling a pouting face at you, “yes, darling. now stop pouting and lay down with me.”

leehan🪸🐠 [gender neutral!reader]

“donghyun?” you called, pushing open the door after the ‘it’s open’ text you received from your boyfriend.

“in the kitchen,” he responded. you took off your shoes, walking in to see your boyfriend is his regular spot, gazing at the fish tank lovingly.

“hey,” you spoke, smiling as you saw him, “how are our babies?”

donghyun chuckled, “they’re good. although this one isn’t eating the algae like it should.”

you stopped by his chair, stroking across his shoulders as you leaned down to kiss him. leehan smiled, placing his hand on the back of your head as he kissed you back. “woah. wait–”

you pulled away, grinning slightly as he took in your appearance, “what do you think?”

leehan laughed, “you look beautiful. wow. did you tell me this was happening?”

you chuckled, “no. i just got it done. do you really like it?”

leehan nodded, silent as he took in your appearance, a hand carding through your hair gently.

“good, i was worried,” you chuckled, sitting down in the chair next to him. you rested your head on his shoulder, beginning to watch the fish with him.

“don’t need to worry about me, princess,” leehan said, kissing your head, “you’ll always be beautiful to me.”

woonhak🧸 [gender neutral!reader]

“hey, y/n! come in!” woonhak smiled, swinging open the door, “woah! oh my god! baby! you– your hair!”

you laughed at your boyfriend’s shocked face and frozen body, “do you like it?!”

woonhak smiled with shocked laughter, his hands moving to touch your hair, or– where your hair no longer was, “it’s short!”

you laughed, “i know!” you took off your shoes and walked past your boyfriend, the man following after you like an intrigued puppy, “hey guys.”

“hey y/n,” some of the members greeted you. sungho looked up and gasped, “oh, nice hair!”

“thanks!” you smiled, “more than woonhak’s said!”

“what?! of course it’s nice! i’m just shocked!” he exclaimed, “what do you mean?! you look beautiful!”

you laughed, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek as you began to walk past him to his bedroom, “thank you, baby.”

“i was just shocked! baby, you look great! i’m sorry i didn’t say it sooner– baby!”

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Writing Notes: First Person Point of View

In writing, the first person point of view - uses the pronouns “I,” “me,” “we,” and “us,” in order to tell a story from the narrator’s perspective.

The storyteller in a first-person narrative is either the protagonist relaying their experiences or a peripheral character telling the protagonist’s story.

Tips For Writing in First Person

Once you’ve decided to write your story in the first person, use these tips to guide your narrative voice.

Write an opening like Melville. Let the reader know you’re using a first-person perspective right away as Melville did in the opening line of Moby Dick with “Call me Ishmael.” Introduce the character and narrative voice within the first two paragraphs to create a bond with your readers from the start.

Be descriptive. In the first person, avoid phrases that keep the reader in the narrator’s brain—for example, “I thought,” or “I felt.” While one of the advantages of first person is to know what the narrator is thinking, don’t get stuck in their head. We also want to see through their eyes so use visual language to show the reader around their world.

Stay in character. When using the pronoun “I,” it’s easy to slip out of your character’s voice and into your own as the author. When you’re writing, stay true to your narrator’s perspective.

Mix it up. Starting every line with “I” can become repetitive; vary your sentences by illustrating thoughts or feelings. Instead of writing “I felt tired walking through the deep snow”, try “the mountain was buried in snow, making every step feel like a mile.”

Create a strong narrator. Make your first-person narrator an interesting character to make the story really work. Give them a solid backstory that influences their perspective.

Reasons to Write in First Person Point of View

When you’re writing a story, you have several narrative voices to choose from. Giving the protagonist or someone close to them the narrative reins has its advantages. A first-person narrator gives the reader a front row seat to the story. It also:

Gives a story credibility. First-person point of view builds a rapport with readers by sharing a personal story directly with them. Bringing the reader in close like this makes a story—and storyteller—credible. From the opening line of Herman Melville’s epic sea tale, Moby Dick, the reader is on a first-name basis with the narrator: “Call me Ishmael.” This familiarity creates a relationship with the narrator, leading the readers to believe that what they are about to hear is a true story. When a writer breaks that narrative trust by leading readers astray—either through a narrator who deliberately lies or a characteristic of the narrator that compromises their credibility—the narrator becomes unreliable.

Expresses an opinion. A narrator tells a story through a lens filtered by their opinions. In the first person point of view, the use of the pronoun “I” establishes a sense of familiarity between reader and narrator, allowing the writer to subtly influence the reader by telling a story with a bias. Scout is the six-year-old narrator in To Kill A Mockingbird and the story is told with the innocence and naiveté of a child’s world view. The author, Harper Lee, had several characters to choose from, but telling this story about race in the American South through this young character’s eyes forces the reader to examine and question the inequalities of race in the same way that Scout does.

Builds intrigue. First person perspective limits a reader’s access to information. They only know and experience what the narrator does. This is an effective tool for creating suspense and building intrigue in stories, particularly in thrillers or mysteries. For example, John Watson is the narrator In almost all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Keeping Holmes, the protagonist, at arm’s length makes him more interesting, but it also allows the reader to be just as surprised as Watson when Holmes finally cracks a case. Readers tend to identify with characters who are learning like they are.

The role the narrator plays in a story determines the type of first-person point of view. The elements of a story—like genre—can help determine who is best suited to serve as narrator and which first-person voice to use.

First-person central. In first-person central, the narrator is also the protagonist at the heart of the plot. Margaret Atwood’s novel Alias Grace employs first-person central point of view. The story is based on a historical event: a double murder that occurred in 1843 in which a manservant was tried and hanged for the murder of his employer. Grace Marks, a maid, was tried and imprisoned as his accessory. The novel is told in through Grace’s point of view as she speaks to the doctor hired to exonerate her.

First-person peripheral. In first-person peripheral, the narrator is a witness to the story but she or he is not the main character. In The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald created the character of Nick, a friend of the protagonist, Jay Gatsby. Nick tells the story of Gatsby trying to win the love of Nick’s cousin, Daisy. Telling the story this way keeps the focus on the protagonist but also creates some distance, so the reader is not privy to their thoughts or feelings. This deliberately keeps Gatsby as a mysterious character and enables Nick to tell the story with a slant, drawing on his experience with Gatsby and his opinion of him to color the narration.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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i want jj to try and teach me to play some horror video game but everytime i jump in his lap and unintentionally grind into him, he’s just losing interest and slowing become preoccupied with touching all up on me instead of focusing on the game

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“why is it so dark?” you giggle, guiding the character you’d picked out through the abandoned hospital. it takes jj a moment to respond, because his eyes are located on the way you’re split open on his lap— tiny booty shorts doing very little to contain the globes of your ass, the perfect outline of your pussy pressed directly to his bulge through his basketball shorts.

“uh,” he scratches his head behind his ear, forcing his eyes back onto the screen. “you can pull out a flashlight, press square.” he instructs, feeling the weight of your head drop to look down at the controller in your hands before successfully demonstrating what needed to be done on screen.

“yay!” you chirp, shifting around on his lap forcing your crotch to slightly grind against his— yet you were too focused to acknowledge it. jj on the other hand winces, playing it off as a cough as he pushes himself up a little higher, having sank down into the couch.

“uh-huh, yep — good job babe.” he congratulates, whipping his hat off for a second to run a hand through his hair. you’re locked in, wide eyes staring at the screen.

“oh god, i’m scared.” you moan as your character pushes open double doors into a dark hallway. your body tenses up in fear and he swears he can feel you clenching, the fabric of your shorts so thin that each pulse and movement can be felt through his own.

“you got it.” he drawls lazily, accepting his fate as he can’t control the boner he feels forming beneath you. he lulls his head back against the couch, once hand still placed lazily on your hip as he awaits the scolding for distracting you whilst playing the game. it doesn’t come, instead — the suspenseful silence is replaced by a loud crash on the screen and your squeal, jumping on his lap. you fidget, practically rocking back and forth on his growing bulge as you panic, slamming your fingers into buttons and nearly breaking the joystick on the damn controller to get out of there as soon as possible.

“oh my god, oh my god!” you pant, whimpering in fear sounding uncannily similar to how you do when you’re close.

“my thoughts exactly.” he strains, eyes squinted as he tries to hold you still — damn near cumming in his pants. it’s only when your character is back to safety, you crane your neck around with a proud grin at your own skills in the video game. as your senses return to you, you give a little wiggle and a frown appears on your face, doe eyes blinking at him innocently.

“uh, hey there mama.” he greets awkwardly lifting up a hand.

“are you hard, jayj?” you mewl quietly and he winces through his teeth, pushing himself to sit up a little higher and reaching between your layers to finally adjust himself in his shorts, caught out.

“look, i… promise you i wasn’t plannin’ on that happening it’s just— you sat on me and it was fine but then you started movin’ around n’stuff— and then there was the whimperin’ and my dick was like BOOM. good morning— y’know?” he gestures, scratching beneath his nose nervously. you climb off, only to restraddle him front on.

“why didn’t you tell me? would have stopped playing the game and started playing with you.” you smile sweetly, beginning to grind down on him. his jaw drops, releasing an exhale he felt liked he’d been holding forever— hands sliding up your body to touch your torso all over.

“god damn�� i — uh, i’ll make a note of that. for next time.”

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#anon #jj maybank prompt

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gfmima · 2 years ago

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category : 米哈游原神 work title : he’s not lover approved by traveler/paimon

there is nothing lyney wouldn’t do for you. if he can, he will; if he doesn’t have the means, he will find a way — no matter if it means standing still as a deer in the forest in front of the traveler and paimon, who shot him with icy glares upon discovering your romantic relationship.

he stands at your front door, in his hand a small bouquet of flowers he purchased in the city; his heart beating madly in his chest. the moment was surreal, like a suspense novel.

questions swirled, each one more bewildering than the last. why were the traveler and paimon, individuals he weren’t exactly on the best terms with, standing by your doorway? where were you? and most importantly, how did you know one another?

he didn’t know you had a personal connection with the pair, let alone be a close friend whom they held in high regard. he feared they might reveal the truth about his fate and ask you to end things, two outcomes he hoped to avoid.

the unmistakable tension in the air pours through like a fog, making it difficult to breath. he, though, was determined to dull his unease in a strained yet cheerful sing-song manner.

“ta-da~!”

alas, his attempt at levity fell flat.

“eh? paimon didn’t know you knew each other!” she yelps, a blend of surprise and curiosity in her voice. the traveler, too, nods in agreement.

lyney, feeling like an uninvited visitor in his own lover’s cozy home, removes his hate and rests it on the standee that you had thoughtfully bought for his stay. with a sense of discomfort that he tried to bury, he takes a seat on your old armchair and crosses his legs.

a faint, near inaudible, sigh was his feeble attempt to soothe the racing thoughts within his head.

“i can say the same.” his nimble hand grazes the nape of his neck. “speaking of, where might she be? and, please, do not take offense, what lured you two into her humble abode?” his eyes dart between their scuffed attire, their fatigue state raising alarms. this cannot be good…

“uh, how does paimon explain this?” she trails, and shares a glance with the traveler.

the latter, taking the lead, starts to disclose how you’d been caught in a struggle on your journey to the city. fortunately, you held your ground, battling alongside the duo.

it didn’t mean you returned completely unscathed.

his concern heightened with every single word, and once he finally reached your bedside, he knelt down. his hand gently guides your gaze to meet his.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he espies the myriad of deep cuts and bruises that marred your delicate skin, the frown on his face deepens with every discovery. “why did you hide your injuries from me? do you wish to be the demise of your poor lyney? look, i’ve sprouted a forest of silver strands thanks to the harrowing distress you’ve inflicted upon me!”

as a joke, you roll your eyes at him, which elicits a theatrical and melodramatic whine of your nickname.

“i didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“but it’s my duty to worry about you?! and you’re well aware such secrets are forbidden from me, mon couer,” he scolds, rather mischievously, his finger tracing the outline of a particularly prominent bruise. it was clear that he genuinely couldn’t bear the idea of seeing you in pain.

he didn’t need to look to know the traveler and paimon were silently mocking him. you’re the very last person to say that, he can hear one of their voices answer.

the following hours unfold as a strange experience… the trio find themselves navigating the ‘intricacies’ of caring for you and your wounds, their interactions were a pleasant balance of teamwork and arguments.

it was a bit of an overstatement, you were merely sporting a couple of bruises and cuts here and there, far from laying at death’s door. at one point, they even engaged in — a passive aggressive — discourse about the meticulous art of wrapping bandages and the hours of your antibiotics intake.

“while i do appreciate your concern, traveler. i know what’s best for her.”

lyney, adopting a firm posture with arms crossed, ushered a resolute stare at the traveler. the atmosphere brimmed with an unspoken challenge as the latter counters, “it’s impressive how informed you are… i wasn’t aware the world of magic held such peril and risk.”

“what i’m trying to say is she needs a period to rest alone.”

“however,” traveler concedes, “she also needs the support of her friends. she doesn’t need to be isolated.”

he counters with a wave of his hand, punctuating his words,“i’m not advocating for such a thing! i’m only expressing my worry about overwhelming her.”

“if you’re both going to argue, do it outside.”

there was no longer space for disagreement, the severity of your expression conveys a message that leaves no room for uncertainty or lightheartedness in your tone.

one last glimpse of your resting silhouette and he returns to the comfort of your living room, on the settee, exasperated yet cautious. meddlesome eyes preying on him, the friction amongst them was obvious to see, beneath it lays a shared regard for you wellbeing.

“can paimon stay?”

quick question, can you positively say your friends and lover get along? the short answer, no; the long answer, not really, no.

ignorant, oblivious, and unaware… there exists a plethora of words to describe the profound state of confusion you felt regarding your friends’ steadfast reluctance to embrace the wanderer as your lover. their hesitancy remained an enigma, though, you can take a ganderw and guess it might be due to his crabby demeanor.

yet, when you allude to it, they refuse to utter a word.

although it did prove to be considerably simpler to gather a proper answer from paimon than traveler. she wasn’t shy, she expressed her thoughts about him. very freely. it began with her calling him short in both stature and temperament, and eventually led up to a blunt end, saying the problem lies in his attitude.

she was in complete denial, the notion you were in love with HIM, of all people, a sentiment underscored by her disbelief at the idea.

your warm presence rendered you a person whose kindness knew no bounds. in stark contrast, he was the epitome of a grump, a less than delightful company. if you were searching for a partner, she could’ve found a more ‘suitable’ match for you!

uh, maybe a compassionate and mellow personality, a man akin to kazuha, might be the perfect choice? she entertains the idea of opening it up to the traveler.

while privy on the subject, the traveler chose to stay hushed the entire time. despite their initial resolve to be neutral, you couldn’t help but notice the bitter expression that manifests when you utter his name.

it was clear to see something occured in the past…

however, your frequent line of questioning over the passing weeks eventually wore them down. after all, alongside paimon, you were a good friend of theirs! and it only seems fair to reveal their lingering apprehensions.

the fateful encounter with wanderer, a narrative that — you had to suspend your disbelief — went back to a time before his very existence had been erased by the use of irminsul and the assistance of lesser lord kusanali. as they wove this convoluted tale, you struggle to keep pace with the details, but your patience compelled you to still try.

“well, if it isn’t sumeru’s resident grouch!” paimon interjects your conversation by greeting him with a self-satisfied grin, thinking she just coined the most clever nickname since the inception of ‘tone-deaf bard.’

with a wry smirk, he chuckles, “i wasn’t aware they allowed pets inside the tavern.”

he was an absolute menace, you inwardly comment, stifling a giggle at her antics. her tantrum-like foot stomping in the air cemented your impression that they were far from being the best of friends.

“WHY YOU!” she shrieks, and he aptly interjects by sticking his tongue out at her. naturally, it only provokes her further. “paimon seriously doesn’t like you! c’mon, traveler. let’s find a table outside.”

the latter of whom sends you an apologetic glance, one that you reciprocate, before trailing after her.

not a second later, your dear wanderer eases in close to you. his knee brushes against yours — and if he sat any nearer, it would surely invite disapproving stares from the patrons at neighboring tables. he drapes his arm around your shoulder and leans his head next to yours.

it was rather audacious of him and out of place for the aura within the restaurant.

“was it necessary to tease her?” your amusement deepens now that paimon was out of earshot.

he shakes his head then lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “it was funny and there’s no hiding it, i know you were amused as well.”

“all lies!” playfully, you narrow your eyes at him. “i’m a good person and a good person like me does not take pleasure in other’s misfortunes.”

“then what are you doing with me?”

“hm, consider it an act of kindness.”

he was going to scoff at your retort when he met your gaze, a spark of affection and desire flickers. the blithe undertone gave way to a moment of intimacy. he leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and in that fleeting, heart-fluttering instant, it feels as if the entire world around you waned into obscurity.

“lucky me, then.” his lips, warm and inviting, met yours in a chaste yet rousing kiss, leaving you both breathless.

unbeknownst to either of you, paimon was on her way back witnessed the scene. the traveler asked her to tell you to go outside because the food they ordered arrived. however, seeing how happy the ‘good-for-nothing grump’ made you, her perspective shifts.

she returns to their table without a sound, deciding to give you two some privacy for a little bit longer.

#kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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rapturously · 1 year ago

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Grinding, biting, and a corruption kink with a sweet reader~ some nasty smut for one of the lost boys, your choice of who!

eyes on fire.

pairing. | david x fem!reader.

format. | one-shot — requested.

word count. | 4.5K.

warnings. | smut, biting, bloodplay (he’s a vampire), semi-public, risk of getting caught, little bit of corruption kink, fingering (f!receiving), handjob, breast play, making out, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, sweetheart), possessive/obsessive behavior from david, david reading your mind (reader doesn’t know), david is an asshole but he’s really sexy so it’s okay

author’s note. | remember how I said dwayne was my favorite ??? I lied, it’s actually David & I’m obsessed with him on god ,,, I have a ton of David smut sitting around in the docs that’ll get posted, but for now, have this! I’m in my Lost Boys era so I would love more requests for them (especially horny ones)

“Where are we going?”

Your voice emerged like a soft caress, barely making it to David as he coaxed you through the swarm of people. He was insistent on whisking you away to somewhere else — somewhere with less eyes. It was a labyrinth of rancor and thrill, the boardwalk strung-up with flyers for concerts amongst the many ‘missing persons’ leaflets. He was behind you, in front of you, all around — an inescapable haze.

David hadn’t intended to like you, let alone go as far as to express interest. Though, with the prospect of immortality on the line, it had become too tantalizing for him to simply abandon his fantasies. He hovered beside you, one hand firmly pressing into the small of your back as he carefully guided you throughout the pinstriped booths.

Even with the mass of fairgoers, your smell was the one that rose above it all — floral perfume intermingled with clean linens, perhaps a splash of rose-water. David continued to guide you into this maze, and at the very center, it would only be the two of you. As he came to a cluster of carnival booths lined up along a wall, he saw the gap of darkness behind one of them.

“You’ll see.” David murmured, lips ghosting around the shell of your ear. There was something unusually dark to his voice — something tantalizing and dangerous as his tone dropped to an alluring purr. The more that the both of you made your way into this unseen gap, the less noisy it became, but there were still people on the other side of the canvas.

“David?” Your voice hopped up an octave as your surroundings became darker, only to be illuminated by a few slivers of orange light that drifted through the cracks. It was almost as if he’d disappeared, causing goosebumps to coalesce along the column of your spine. It was eerily quiet, save for some distant music and the constant buzz of patrons close by.

His laughter emerged from the shadows, akin to a predator toying with their prey. He could see you, but you couldn’t see him. That little fluctuation of fear settled into your features, coupled with exhilaration as you fumbled around in an attempt to find him. You looked so perfect, wearing a softer-blue dress that made you appear angelic, compared to his black attire.

Your heart began to sing for him, beating erratically within your chest as you clasped your hands together, having another look around. He was hiding from you, but his laughter sounded so near. “David, come on.” Nervousness crept into your shrewd tone — subtle, but most certainly prevalent. “Where’d you go?”

A thump made you jump, nearly crawling from your own skin. You’d gotten used to his constant teasing, but the suspense of not seeing him became a little overwhelming. He couldn’t have been very far away considering the limited amount of space, but you relented, shifting towards the wall.

At last, hands suddenly grabbed at your hips from behind, tugging you against his musculature as you let out a loud yelp. “David!” You gasped, watching as he rounded you, appearing before you with that wolfish grin. Your back was against the wall as he caged you in, hovering above you. His hand came down to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“There she is.” He uttered, able to make out that doe-like look you often had. Your pupils were dilated, chest heaving with heavy heartbeats as you calmed down from your healthy dose of fear. David had been toying with you for several days — fortunately for you, he was prepared to end your torment.

“Don’t do that again,” You mumbled, listening to his beguiling laughter as he pressed his stubbled mouth against your shoulder. It was always everywhere but your lips, which had become somewhat infuriating. You’d been itching to kiss him. “Please.”

David enjoyed reading your mind — especially those that involved him. You were particularly upset about the lack of kissing, sexually frustrated, often fantasizing about all of the things he could do to you. He intended on honoring that — he wanted to indulge himself, too.

“Anger doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.” David sneered, and in reality, he felt the opposite. He just enjoyed seeing you get all defensive and haughty in an attempt to make yourself more intimidating. You could never be intimidating to him. You were his pet. Pets were meant to be cute and docile — loyal, above all else.

As footsteps passed by, you became nervous, having a glance around. “David, what if someone catches us back here? Maybe we should go somewhere else.” You protested, but he only pushed you back against the wall with a guttural snarl. That sound terrified you in the best way possible, causing a soft gasp to escape you.

“Are you scared?” He murmured, subtly invoking a challenge. David was testing the waters, seeing if you’d shy away from his intentions. He caressed your lower lip with his thumb, as he’d done so many times before. The way your heart raced was music to his ears.

You shook your head, gaze flickering toward his lips. His mouth was perfect — you wanted to taste him. He was snug against you, body to body, heart to heart, feeling your warmth bleed into him as it rolled from you in waves. David smelled like an amalgamation of cigarettes, cologne, and that familiar coppery twang.

David pressed closer, lips mere breaths away, and you wanted to beg him for a kiss — for anything. His chuckle was sly and deliciously seductive, gaze becoming half-lidded as those crystalline irises drank you in, over and over. “You should be.” He uttered, dragging you in as he pressed his mouth against yours.

Through the dark haze of your surroundings, those little flickers of light pierced through, providing slim illumination. You could still see David, but not nearly as well as you hoped. As one hand squeezed your chin, the other fell to cup the curve of your waist, thumb digging into the fragile flesh there.

Your hands clamored to find their purchase, grasping at the dark, textured sweater underneath his trenchcoat. David suddenly stepped forward with you in-tow, pinning you against the rickety wooden wall. A gasp escaped you in between heated kisses, feeling his teeth nick the supple skin of your lower lip.

He could smell you — that familiar, feminine aroma of arousal as it began to coagulate between your plush thighs. David licked his lips, and for a moment, he reminded himself that you weren’t a vampire. You were still fragile and breakable — if he wasn’t somewhat careful with you, he’d hurt you.

A strangled whimper tore past your parted lips as his gloved palm brazenly groped your breast, gauging your smitten reaction. “Poor, poor girl,” David purred, pressing a string of hot, greedy kisses along your jaw. “No one’s taken care of you, have they?” He murmured, nipping at your jugular.

A squeak of surprise left you as David became a little rougher, but you didn’t know what you should’ve expected. Getting involved with him meant stepping into that gritty, domineering aspect of sex, and you weren’t about to refuse him. You keened into his touch, fingers curling into his sweater.

Leather-clad fingers audaciously jerked at the fabric around your pliant chest, producing a slight tearing sound. A resonant growl rumbled throughout David’s chest as he slipped his palm around your bare breast, teasing and tugging at your nipple until you were mewling — it was fitting, given the nickname he had for you.

David trailed his mouth upward, from neck to your lips, hungrily attaching themselves to yours once more. His kiss was ravenous, passionate — it was as if he were caught in some frenzied state. A soft moan left you as he continued to knead your breast, one hand skirting to rest around your throat.

He squeezed, gloved digits tensing on either side of your slender neck as he applied pressure. There was a sudden flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, a sense of intrigue — you’d never felt something quite like this before. A sharp and sudden sensation rippled throughout your lower lip as teeth sliced flesh.

“Sorry,” David smirked, gaze glistening with sheer lust and desire. “You’ve got such pretty lips.” He uttered, and could smell the singular droplet of blood that bubbled atop the soft flesh of your lower lip. His jaw tensed, and without hesitation, he careened in for another kiss, open-mouthed as he lapped at the blood.

Arousal hit you like a heavy haze, stomach churning with anticipation as a liquid heat pooled between your thighs. Whatever David was doing, no matter how brazen and primal it was, it made you want to melt within his grasp. A moan escaped you, lost between another barrage of heated kisses.

His tongue traced across your lower lip before he not so-gently sought entry into your mouth, letting out a low, rumbling chuckle when you gasped. David could tell that you weren’t used to any of this, but that made it all the more sweeter. He relished in that starstruck look you had, eyes wide and akin to a startled doe.

With a pitiful whine, your throat bobbed beneath his palm, pulse racing at the speed of light. Your fingers began to roam and wander, wanting to feel even a mere inch of his skin. David knew how desperate you were, and normally, he’d want you to work for it — but this was your first, and he was feeling particularly merciful.

Your smell was becoming unbearable — in a good way. David could sense the way your body bent for him, turned malleable within his hands. The pad of his gloved thumb pressed just above your pulse point, listening to that erratic beating of your heart.

“David,” You gasped, letting out a soft moan when he pried his mouth away from yours, peppering a string of greedy, voracious kisses along your collarbone. Your soft, warm fingertips slid underneath his sweater, feeling along the taut plane of his musculature. He was cold, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “David, please.”

Heat coursed throughout your body, a consuming fire, burning bright within the pit of your stomach. Whatever flame of arousal David sparked within you, it demanded to be extinguished. Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing at all as you felt one of his hands grab at your haunch.

“Please what, kitten?” David murmured, voice dark and salacious, like the lull of a siren. He could smell your desire as it pooled between your thighs. You whimpered when his teeth scraped across your collarbone, snagging a portion of your flesh. Saliva coalesced within his maw as he prepared to bite.

The hand that held your throat flew to your breast again, kneading and groping as he bit down, leaving behind a rather angry bite mark. If you were to look closely enough, the incisors seemed abnormally long — thankfully, you were masked by darkness. Rivulets of crimson trickled toward your heaving chest.

David snarled, hastily licking and kissing his way around your breasts, lapping at whatever blood trickled onto his tongue. You tasted divine — akin to the forbidden fruit. The yelp and moan that escaped you rolled into one pleasurable sound. It stung for a moment, but David was swift to kiss the pain away.

“O—Oh,” Shock fluttered across your face when you noticed David brazenly lapping at the inklings of blood. It was strange, initially — but when he lifted his head, lips stained with a light crimson, his cerulean irises were now a vibrant, burnished gold. “Your eyes.” You thought you were going crazy.

Another delicious laugh escaped him, and he quickly licked his lips as if he’d had the most delectable meal. “Just the light, sweetheart.” He murmured, and angled himself in a different direction, conveniently into the sliver of orange that trickled through the canvas. They were blue again — icy and penetrating.

Maybe you were going crazy.

“Lift your dress up.”

David’s voice was an alluring command — he wasn’t asking. His countenance was wrought with lust, gaze burning a hole right through you as he hastily scanned your thoughts. They were tantalizing and rather amusing — just a jumbled maze, thinking about him, predominantly. That familiar smirk had diminished, making the moment more intense.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, breath hitching as your hands fumbled toward the hem of your ruffled dress. Your pace was completely and utterly sluggish, as if you were moving at the speed of a snail, which amused David. He was staring at you again — you were a feast for the eyes.

“Don’t make me wait.” David uttered, nudging his knee in between your legs, forcing them to part as he rucked up your dress for you. Goosebumps erupted across your flesh, crawling over the column of your spine as he tilted inward, pressing his lips against yours. “Hm.”

A breathy whine escaped you as he dragged his hand along your stomach, lifting one hand towards his mouth. Pearlescent teeth sank into the leather as he removed one glove, flesh ice-cold as he teased the waistband of your panties. “David,” You shuddered, both excited and scared of getting caught. “Please.” You panted.

David chuckled next to your ear, forcing you to look at him with his other hand. Leather-clad digits swept across your chin. “Is this what you wanted?” He purred, lips pressing against the corner of his mouth. “Use your words, kitten.” He murmured, reveling in your mesmerized expression.

“Yes, I—I want you to touch me,” Your voice was desperate, high-pitched with a needy whine as you stared at David, whose lips curled into a salacious grin. “Please, David. I want you.” A soft whine left you as he dipped his fingers underneath the thin cotton fabric.

Desire rippled through you just as it did through him, hot and heavy as it burned between you both. “I like your manners.” He whispered into your ear, playfully biting at the sensitive shell. With that, his hand deftly traveled to that aching warmth between your legs, icy digits tracing across your slit.

Your body reacted violently, hips jolting into the sensation of his hand. You fumbled to hold onto him, fingers clamoring to grasp his chest and bicep. Those dexterous digits slipped against your cunt, savoring the heat that oozed from it. You were soaked — it was almost embarrassing how aroused you were.

David chuckled, withdrawing his fingers, much to your dismay. They glistened with your slick, and you nearly collapsed into a pile of nothingness as he placed them into his mouth, lewdly savoring your taste. “Hm,” He sneered, eyes alight with an intensity. “Is that all for me?”

“Y—Yes,” You nodded several times over, licking your lower lip. A coppery twang was still present, fainter than before. “Yes.” You said it again, watching the way he grinned like a sharp-toothed predator. You waited with bated breath as his hand went right back into your panties, thumb grinding against your clit.

He stopped toying with you so much, fingers finding a rather voracious rhythm as they slid along your cunt, thumb drawing circles around your clit. You were so sensitive, like a live wire — virgins always were. David kissed you again, tongue dragging across your lower lip as he let you lean against him.

“You’re mine,” David uttered, digits drifting toward your slick entrance. The unfamiliar sensation left you gasping, sputtering for more as he began to sink two fingers inside of you, sluggishly working you open. He chuckled when you moaned, kissing along your jugular with a frenzy. “Say it.” He growled.

A shiver of delight rolled through your spine, coupled with that continuous oozing of warmth that pooled between your legs. David began to pump two fingers in and out of your needy cunt, thumb continuing to work wonders against your clit. The sounds you made were incredible — especially those little whimpers of yours.

“M’yours,” You slurred, idly rolling your hips with those rhythmic strokes of his hand. The shrill screaming of fairgoers still echoed around you, and a ruffling of the canvas backing of a tent nearly made you squeak. David squeezed your chin, demanding that you look at him as he finger-fucked you into submission. “Yours, David.” You groaned, wanting to pull his platinum-blonde locks.

David chuckled at how quickly you said it — your body responded to his touch as if you were made for him. Your heavy scent invaded his senses, making his maw pool with saliva. He nearly considered taking another bite from you in the midst of all this, but he knew better than to get greedy. He didn’t want to kill you so soon. “Good girl.” He uttered, watching as you keened into his hand.

His fingers were divine — David had a way of subduing you through it, drawing out the most intimate parts of you. Those pale cerulean hues remained fixated upon you, lips curled into a slight sneer as he attempted to squeeze a third digit inside of you. You were tight — cunt snug around his fingers as he pistoned in and out, glistening with a sheen of your juices.

That knot of liquid heat inside of your stomach began to unravel, bringing with it a white-hot pleasure that made your knees shake. David let you lean against him, wanting to keep you aloft as he licked at your lower lip again, gathering a singular pearl of crimson that beaded from your tender flesh. “David!” You whined, chasing after that sensation.

Your cunt throbbed with excitable pangs, and you nearly cried out again when David’s thumb flicked over your clit, drawing vigorous circles around the bundle of nerves. He could tell that you were getting close — the scent was enough to drive him into a frenzy.

Heat crawled across your flesh, which felt borderline feverish as David let you ride his hand, dress rucked up around your hips. The pace in which he fucked you with his fingers was rhythmic and passionate — he wasn’t about to leave you with nothing at all. He laughed again when your hips bucked forward, clawing at his chest as you clung to him.

“Getting a little greedy, aren’t we?” David purred, noticing that glazed, lustful look in your eyes as you reached your pinnacle. Your orgasm was akin to being bathed in a pleasurable fire, everything felt good. A buzz formed within your stomach as you came, chest rising and falling with quick pants. “Hm.” One whiff of you, and David had to restrain himself.

He withdrew his fingers from you, and again, treated you to a most sinful sight as he sucked on his middle digits, face screwed into one of amusement. You looked blissed-out, lips parting as he careened forward. “That was …” You couldn’t properly describe the way he made you feel.

“Thank me for it,” David mused, trapping your chin within his gloved hand. “I’ve got something else for you, kitten.” His voice became deliciously husky as he offered you one of his fingers. You swallowed the lump within your throat, heart beating erratically as you slowly opened your mouth. “Good.” He crooned.

Embarrassment rippled through you as you gently sucked on his index finger, able to taste yourself — though, you assumed that was what David wanted. Judging from the burning stare he was giving you, he was enjoying himself. A soft whimper left you when he pressed on your tongue, and you listened to that familiar, wolfish chuckle of his.

When he made you stop with a simple squeeze of your jaw, you whimpered, flesh feeling so incredibly warm. “Thank you.” Admittedly, David had done more than you thought he would, all things considered. Though, you felt as if you needed to return the favor. “Would you want me to touch you, too?” You asked, keeping your voice hushed.

David grinned, sliding the leather glove back over his hand as he flexed it once or twice. “Would I want you to?” He asked incredulously, prepared to tease you. Instead, he found himself enticed by your innocence and demure demeanor. “What do you think, sweetheart?” His voice dropped into another low growl.

“Yes?” You asked, and David simply gestured toward his belt with a flicker of those cerulean hues, wanting to see what you’d do. You hadn’t done something like this before, but you wanted to please David more than anything else. With hesitant hands, you gently grappled the studded, black belt he wore, quietly unfastening it. You wondered if he’d instruct you further.

“Do I need to talk you through it?” David sneered, head cocked to one side as he playfully grazed his sharp teeth across your jaw. You shuddered, digits stuttering as you moved to unbutton the front of those black, ragged leather pants. You were afraid of disappointing him and making a fool of yourself.

You very nearly said yes, stomach churning with anticipation as he began to plant hungry kisses along your neck. Teeth nicked your flesh, and you could feel his predatory grin against your jugular. You were visibly flustered as you handled him as if he would break, which David found amusement in.

Freeing his cock from the confines of snug, tattered leather, you stopped, gaze fluttering toward his pale features as he let out another harsh bark of sly laughter. “Don’t be shy.” David purred, encouraging you in his own way. He had no intention of ridiculing you for your inexperience — in fact, it enticed him more than anything else.

With a soft exhale, you began to drag your soft palm across the base of his cock, stroking up toward the head in a series of sluggish, experimental motions. You watched David’s face, noticed the way his smugness was curbed just a little bit. You kept quiet, continuing to pump your hand along his length.

A series of grunts escaped him, and he became unusually devoid of words. The noises he made were tantalizing, causing you to shiver as you continued to touch him, caressing your thumb across the head of his cock. He trapped your lower lip between his teeth, giving you another hot, open-mouthed kiss.

Your ministrations became invigorated, sharp and swift as you found a heavier rhythm. David growled, grinding against your bare thigh, with your dress still pooled around your hips. With one hand, you reached for his platinum tresses, tracing your fingers through as you grabbed a fistful.

David’s wicked chuckle made you bristle, lips melding with yours in a greedy, consuming kiss. You relinquished control to your pale-headed paramour, continuing to stroke his cock with eager thrusts of your hand. He knew that he wouldn’t get off to just your hand — it was too early to put you on your knees, but the thought had crossed his mind.

His stubbled, scruffy visage scratched against your face, and the sensation was unusually pleasant. Your hand never slowed, hoping that you were pleasing him in a valiant attempt to reciprocate. You felt his cock twitch within your hand as a pearl of precum beaded from the tip, prompting you to swipe at it with your thumb.

“Good girl,” David uttered, knowing that if you continued, he’d likely lose all of his self-restraint. You enjoyed touching him, reluctantly removing your hand from his cock. You stopped, but he was staring at you expectantly. “The work isn’t completely finished.” He mused, noticing the lick of heat that saturated your skin.

With a soft ‘oh’, you made sure to fix him up, straightening his clothes and buckling his belt again. He was still painfully hard as he grinded into your thigh, pressing a sultry kiss against your jaw. David flicked the strap of your dress back over your shoulder, and happened to scan your mind.

For such an innocent creature, your thoughts were everything but — the idea of corrupting you was delicious. It was filth and sin all intertwined together, and you wanted so much more. David was prepared to provide, but he wanted to let it simmer again. It was best if he hunted and regained his own composure before attempting to corrupt you and suck the sweetness right out of your marrow.

As he squeezed your chin, David leaned off of you, steering you away from the darkness and toward the gap of light up ahead. “I have somewhere very special to show you next time.” He fully intended on taking you to the cave — he’d claim you, then.

“Where is it?” Your voice was indicative of excitement as he lingered around the fringes of the gap you’d gone in to begin with. You didn’t want to put any label on this — you weren’t certain if this was a date. At any rate, you thoroughly enjoyed whatever this was — the heat, the tension that flew between you.

“You’ll see,” David purred, pausing within the gap that led back out to the boardwalk. “It’ll be a pleasant surprise.” He assured you, stopping to trail his fingers across your cheek. Those pale, icy hues studied you for a moment, drinking in the sight of your humanity, your fragility — beating heart and saccharine blood pumping within your veins, the warmth radiating from you.

Immortality would suit you, but he’d certainly miss your many mortal qualities. Perhaps, he’d keep you like this for a while, his sweet little human. David often shared with his brothers, but you were something he coveted, longed to keep just for himself. Like so many times before, he traced his gloved thumb across your lower lip.

You wanted to kiss him again, just one more time before you’d have to leave and go home. “Thank you for tonight, David.” You whispered, hands gently curling into the woolen plane of his sweater. David’s smirk made you shiver as he cupped your jaw, eyes flickering toward your now-healing lip.

Enraptured, David decided to let you come to him, watching as you stretched up to reach his mouth. Your lips melded with his, and he took it a step further, shamelessly deepening the kiss as he held you close. A low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver as he pinched your chin.

“I’ll see you soon, kitten.” He smirked, sly laughter rippling through him as he stepped away, strolling into the crowd that hadn’t an inkling of what the two of you were doing in the darkness.

As you watched David walk away, your head swam with him — his voice, the sound of his devilish laughter, those piercing eyes — but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else. Even after he disappeared completely, assimilating into the masses, all you could think about was a pair of golden eyes.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #tlb david x reader #the lost boys x you #slasher x y/n #slasher fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #sunkendreams masterlist

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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

Text

Knife’s Edge || Abby Anderson

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: when reader gets lost inside a haunted house, ghostface!Abby takes her to the backroom

Notes: part one in my week of horror series! minors dni; brief dubcon, knife play, throat holding, fingering, dom!Abby wearing a strap under her costume, sex against a wall, afab reader

Scary stories and sleazy horror films had never been something you enjoyed, so you’re not sure why you’d agreed to tag along when your friends invited you to a haunted house hosted in a bleak, abandoned building sitting at the edge of town.

As soon as you walked through the doors, you knew you’d made a mistake. Gory backdrops, clown-faced actors, fake bodies hanging out of coffins – you found a reason to shield your face lurking around every corner. Your friends had shrieked with laughter and pulled you along with them, but you couldn’t keep up with their excited pace, dragging your feet and lagging far behind the group.

Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time with your hands covering your eyes, you would’ve known you were headed down the wrong hallway, straying further away from your friends with each blind step. When you look up to find yourself stranded in the empty darkness, you chastise yourself for coming to a haunted house in the first place.

Tonight would’ve been better if you’d just stayed home.

When you realize that the noise and the commotion of the tour have all but faded into the distance, your heart leaps into your throat. There’s something about the silence that doesn’t seem right.

A rising panic overwhelms your senses as you look around for anything that might tell you where you are. Your friends are all gone, and so are the actors and the gruesome scenes that had been guiding you through the halls. Is it worse to be scared or to be hanging in suspense?

The sudden shuffle of footsteps floods your lungs with relief. You speed up to follow after the sound, only briefly stopping to consider how humiliating it is to be this frightened by a rundown building full of cheap decor.

“Excuse me! Hey-”

You grab the person’s shoulder with a trembling hand, no longer concerned with keeping your dignity intact. They can laugh at you all they want as long as they can lead you to the exit.

When the stranger turns around, you let out a small noise of surprise. She’s tall and brawny under her costume, and the tips of her boots peak out from the bottom of the black sheet of fabric she’s cloaked in.

The mask covering her face is shaped into a ghoulish, twisted scream, just like the one from those cheesy slasher movies you’d never managed to sit through. Even the prop knife she wields at her side is unnervingly sinister.

You pull your hand back and turn your attention to the mesh covering her eyes, hoping for a glimpse of the person underneath.

“Do you work here?”

She cocks her head to the side, silent.

“Look,” you sputter. “I just got separated from my friends, can you help me or not?”

A group of muffled voices erupt from somewhere in the house, a mess of laughter and gasps and thrilled shrieks of artificial terror. You feel her eyes raking over you before she bobs her head and motions for you to follow.

“Come with me.”

The walk through the hallway is quiet beyond the eerie music playing on a loop and the sound of her steps over the creaking floorboards. Cardboard cutouts and tarped sheets of plastic block out the light from the windows and you’d struggle to follow her trail if it weren’t for the occasional flash of her white mask looking at you over her shoulder.

She leads you through a maze of intersecting hallways before finally stopping in front of a door marked with gaudy caution tape and a formal ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign tacked in the middle. She guides you inside with a hand flattened against your lower back and a warmth licks up your spine from her easy touch.

She follows in behind you and shuts the door, and you’re suddenly aware that she’d taken you beyond the part of the house marked off for guests.

Overloaded boxes and bins of leftover decorations are scattered around the room, a collection of undead odds and ends stuffed into every corner. It’s too crowded and too uncanny for your liking.

You turn to look at the quiet stranger with wide eyes, heart hammering in your chest.

“Why are we here?”

She’s silent for a moment before she grabs you by the waist and wraps her arms around you, pressing her face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you scared?”

You shudder as her cold plastic mask connects with your skin. Standing this close, you can hear her heavy breath contorted by her disguise, feel the rise and fall of her chest pressed against your back.

The kitchen knife gleams against your hip where her hand gropes for purchase. In the darkened hallway, it’d seemed like a cheap, flimsy prop to match her crude costume, but in here, there’s just enough light to catch the metallic luster of the blade’s sharp edge.

She seems to follow the trail of your downcast gaze because she runs the flat side of her knife up the length of your torso with an amused hum.

“Don’t worry,” she taunts in an overly cloying voice. “You won’t feel a thing.”

Her grip is loose enough that you could break free if you wanted, but you’re too flustered by the heat pooling in your belly to try. You wriggle in her grasp and unintentionally move your hips into hers, gasping when the tip of the blade digs into your side.

“Ah- careful with that thing.”

She laughs dryly and drags the steel up to rest in the valley of your breasts. “I think you like a little pain.”

Without a warning, she spins you around so that you’re sandwiched between her form and the wall, cheek pressed roughly against the cracked, yellowing paint.

“You feel that?” She grinds against the curve of your backside, revealing the hard plastic bulge underneath her costume. “S’my cock, baby. You gonna take it like a good girl?”

You whimper at the harsh treatment and the thought of what’s to come. When you take too long to work up a reply, she wraps a hand around your throat, delicate but forceful enough that you’re aware of her underlying strength.

“I asked you a question.”

Honeyed slick coats the apex of your thighs as you squirm in place, practically thrumming with adrenaline and a feeling you can’t name. You’ve always hated scary movies, but living through one is turning out to be much more of a thrill.

“Yes,” you pant with a shaky nod. “Please, yes. Just fuck me.”

Her knife clatters to the floor beside your feet and you flinch at the shrill noise. The hand around your throat is gone, disappearing somewhere behind you as she bunches the fabric of her costume around her waist.

You chance a look over your shoulder in hopes of catching a glimpse of her form without the curtain of fabric blocking the view, and you’re met with the sight of her harness digging into her hips, leading below the waistband of her black cotton boxers.

A sliver of bare skin is visible between the dregs of her cloak and the hem of her underwear, accentuating the smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval. The muscles of her thighs flex as she pulls the length of her strap from its confines.

She reaches around to unbutton your jeans and tug the material down your legs, careless of the way your hips jerk from the force of her strength. When her fingers prod at your entrance and she slides her fake cock between your thighs, your palms flatten against the wall to keep yourself from crumpling over in bliss.

“S’that feel good?” Her thumb swipes at your clit in fast, messy circles while two thick digits part your velvety walls.

Little sighs and puffs of air are all you can manage as a response. Her fingers curl at the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, and you think you could manage to come like this if she kept at it for even a minute longer.

To your disappointment, she frees her fingers before you can reach your peak, and you push back against her with a whine of protest.

She doesn’t seem to appreciate your breathy complaint, because she shoves your hips back against the wall with a bitter force that makes you gasp at the impact.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Her masked face peaks over your shoulder, creeping into your peripheral with an unblinking, static gaze.

You feel the tip of her cock nudge against your weeping entrance, sleek plastic rubbing against your skin just like the pale visage resting against your cheek. She drives her cock into you in one fluid motion, grunting as her hips slam into yours.

“Fuck-” you choke out a breathless, eager sound as she gives an experimental thrust against your backside.

Her broad figure envelops you completely as she grinds her cock into your slick cunt, agonizingly slow until she decides you’re ready for more. She’s everywhere all at once – a blur of heavy-handed touches over your hips and your chest. You can’t decide whether you’d like to push your breasts into the cradle of her palms or to contort yourself into the hollow of her frame in search of more pleasure.

“mmh- please, faster,” you beg, brows pinched together with the effort of keeping still like she’d asked.

“Yeah?” She picks up a bit of speed and returns her fingers to your clit. “Too cock drunk to be scared anymore?”

You nod along with what she’s saying, too focused on the tension twisting in your gut to pay attention to her words. You’d agree to anything as long as she kept moving.

A minute passes and you’re teetering at the edge of your release. She seems to notice, adding pressure to your clit and grinding her cock into you as far as it’ll go.

“That’s it,” she pants. “Come for me.”

The tension inside of you snaps and you shudder through your release with a choked sob and a silent thanks to the stranger holding you up. Your walls cling to her slick length as you come around her cock, heaving a shaky breath into the quiet, cramped room.

After a few more greedy thrusts and swipes over your sensitive clit, she stills inside of you and presses her mouth to your shoulder, almost like she’s kissing you through the plastic mold covering her face.

With a content flush crawling up your cheeks, you turn to look at her in the dim lighting. “You could’ve taken the mask off, y’know.”

She laughs wryly and shakes her head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

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riiwrites · 2 years ago

Note

Here’s a more spooky request. Maybe dazai has tried watching a horror movie to scare reader so they’ll lean towards him in the movie and he can comfort or hold them but his plan isn’t working because they love horror movies. I think that would be cute and funny. Thank you 💕

“the scariest thing.”

❥ pairing : dazai x reader

❥ genre : fluff

❥ warnings : none

❥ wc : 1k

❥ a/n : i loved writing this so much! although, i’m not a big fan of horror movies but I tried my best for describing some movie scenes.

Dazai greeted you with a sweet smile hidden with a little touch of mischief. He wrapped his arms around you as soon as you stepped through the door

"Ah~ my love, how was your day today?" He asks with such ease as if he’s let out a breath of relief he’s been holding in for a while.

"Hi darling." You replied, accepting his hug instantly when you wrap your arms around the back of his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Day was good, m’ drained though."

"Oh, you don’t say.."

He has that glint in his eyes as you pull away from his shoulder, raising an eyebrow

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing!"

"Osamu." His smirk only grows when your eyebrows furrow together and a slight pout appears on your lips. He admired that expression for a quick moment before chuckling, placing one hand on your back as he guides you towards the living room, revealing the surprisingly organised sight of blankets sprawled all over the couch, candles lit in the dimmed room and placed on the counter infront of the TV which the channel was switched to Netflix. Your slightly confused expression was suddenly replaced with a look full of surprise but adoration as you stared at the sight.

"Dazai, you did this for me..?"

"Why, of course. I knew your day was going to be rather long and more dreadful than usual, so I prepped you a little something." He smiles at your happy expression, walking over to the couch and taking a seat, patting the space next to him. You oblige obviously and rush over, plopping yourself down onto the blanket from underneath you and sitting on the opposite side of Dazai. He looks at you for a moment looking absolutely bewildered, shocked and almost betrayed.

"Not cuddling up to me after I’ve prepped you such a lovely surprise? I’m wounded!"

"Oh you’ll live!" You say with a smirk, he sighs playfully. "I certainly hope not."

"Osamu."

"Okay okay, sorry!"

Truth was he had already known you would sit on the complete opposite side of him, a big empty bit of distance between you two. He knew how after a draining day sometimes you liked to have your distance, and sometimes you preferred to cuddle up to him, which is why he had crafted the most mastermind plan of all.

"What do you feel like watching?" You ask, keeping your eyes glued to the screen as Dazai has the remote.

"Hm." A smirk adorns his face once again.

"How about a scary movie?"

You turn to him with a smile, being completely oblivious to his 'master plan' as you nod.

"Okay."

He huffs out a chuckle as he throws his head back against the couch, holding the remote in-front of the TV and clicking onto the search bar.

Around 15 minutes of the movie pass by, and yet not a single reaction out of you. Dazai wasn’t really paying much attention to the movie, only the suspenseful and tension filled parts as he took quick glances at you to try and sense some sort of reaction out of you - but nothing. Dazai continued to stare intently at you, not only because of him trying to sense any sign of emotion, but just because he found you so lovely to stare at. You looked so beautiful when you focused intently on things.

Once Dazai turns his head back to the screen, a loud scream and figure appearing on the screen makes Dazai jump out of his skin, eyes going wide like tennis balls as he yelps.

"Fuck! Oh bella, it’s okay I’ll hold y-"

"Holy shit that was amazing!"

Dazais head quickly snaps to the side to see you - of all people laughing, at the sudden jumpscare.

"Y-you think this is funny..?"

You giggle at the screen as you reply.

"Yeah! The visuals are insane!"

You had the most precious smile on your face that Dazai was actually in shock of. He stared at you with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth as he processed what had just happened. Dazais plan, for the first time in his life - had backfired on him.

He turned away from you and continued to watch the movie, fearing to inject as he didn’t want to spoil your fun or enjoyment of the movie, although he didn’t quite understand how you could enjoy such things.

After nearing the movies end, you’re still smiling so peacefully, whilst Dazai on the other hand looked absolutely mortified and disgusted with what he had just watched. He had really expected you to be all jumpy and startled, him holding you close as you tremble in fear, not the other way around. He felt defeated to say the least - and very humbled. But seeing that sweet precious smile on your face was all the while worth it. You turn to him.

"Are you okay, love? You look rather..disturbed."

Dazai blinks for a few moments before smiling sweetly back at you.

"Yeah..I’m great, I just- didn’t really expect you to act like that."

"Oh! I’ve seen Possum more times than I can count. I love horror movies!"

He blinks a few times again, before looking down at the empty space on the couch

"Oh."

You tilt your head to the side, surprised to see your lover look so dumbfounded.

"What’s the matter?"

"Nothing, I just.." He starts.

"I thought if I got you to watch a scary movie with me then you’d possibly be startled enough to take up the space on the couch and cuddle up to me. But now I look like the fool who needs to be goddamn coddled!" He huffs and crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowing like a little kid. You giggle at his reasoning.

"I mean, I could cuddle you..-"

"Don’t even think about it. That’s my job damn it!"

You laugh, throwing your head back into the couch as you wipe some fake tears off your face.

"Oh my, I’ve outsmarted the Osamu Dazai! Please, how shall I be rewarded?"

"Oh stop it, I can’t take this anymore!!"

He places his hands on his head, shaking his head rapidly as he continues his tantrum, before eventually stopping and falling back into the couch, he sighs loudly.

"Well I’ve certainly been humbled."

You giggle at this, before crawling over to him and sitting on your knees in front of him. He perks up at this and raises an eyebrow as he stares at you.

"What?"

You tilt your head to the side with a cute smile.

"We can pretend I don’t like horror movies.."

He stares blankly for a moment at your suggestion, both eyebrows now raised and his eyes open wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smirks, before grabbing you by your waist and pulling you into his side, you squeal.

"Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here." He says, caressing your hair gently as you snicker

"Seriously?"

"Shhhh, it wasn’t real, only visuals.."

"You sure you’re not just telling yourself that?"

"Let me have my moment, sweetheart."

He smiles as he places a gentle kiss on your cheek, you smile and rest your head against his side, peaceful silence fills the room as the two of you are tangled in utter bliss with one another.

"Okay but seriously, I really need to keep close to you tonight." Dazai says. "Im not having any puppets or massive spiders come through any bags or windows tonight."

"Pfft, yeah okay."

"What? I’m being serious, that was the scariest thing ever Y/N!!" He whines, pressing his cheek against the top of your head, rubbing your arm gently.

Sure, his plan may have failed - and it turned out he was the one who actually needed taken care of. But he got his main goal - you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101

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goodoldbandit · 2 months ago

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Understanding Motorcycle Suspension and Tuning It: A Comprehensive Guide to Design and Performance.

Good Old Bandit Good Old Bandit. gob.stayingalive.in Discover expert insights on motorcycle suspension design and tuning for peak performance and control. Motorcycle suspension is much more than just a system of springs and shock absorbers—it is a masterpiece of engineering that marries design precision with performance finesse. In this comprehensive guide, we will dive into the intricate…

#Adjustable Preload #Advanced Suspension Systems #Compression Damping #Front Fork Design #Good Old Bandit #Gud Ol Bandit #Motorcycle engineering #Motorcycle Suspension Design #News #Rear Shock Absorber #Rebound Damping #Sanjay Mohindroo #Suspension Troubleshooting #Suspension tuning guide

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writingstoraes · 2 years ago

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sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about: The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched.

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously.

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet.

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand.

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off.

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand.

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you.

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle. He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves.

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little.

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles.

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little.

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied.

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds.

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down.

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug.

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you.

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show.

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you; as if you and his heart had a binding agreement.

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane.

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug.

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

#writtenbyrae #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc one shot

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sexsylexi · 6 months ago

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Hallow Traditions

Kaldur'ahm x reader

It's late October, and the air is crisp with the scent of leaves and the faintest hint of pumpkin spice as you and Kaldur walk hand in hand through your neighborhood. The streetlights cast a warm, amber glow as you make your way toward your house, where you've promised to introduce him to all things Halloween.

Kaldur tilts his head curiously, taking in the yards decked with fake cobwebs, gravestones, and skeletons. You can see the slight confusion mixed with awe in his teal-colored eyes as he glances around at the holiday decorations. He's from Atlantis, after all, where Halloween isn't exactly celebrated. As Aqualad, he's faced down supervillains and led the Young Justice team, but this is a whole new world for him.

"Humans... celebrate death in a very different way," he murmurs, almost to himself, as he stops in front of a yard filled with zombies clawing out of the ground. "It’s fascinating."

You smile, gently squeezing his hand to pull him out of his reverie. "Halloween isn't all about death, though! It's a little creepy, sure, but it's mostly just fun. We dress up, we trick-or-treat, carve pumpkins, watch scary movies... there's even a whole tradition of haunted houses."

Kaldur turns to you, eyebrows raised. "Haunted houses?"

"Yeah, haunted houses! They're kind of like…" you pause, thinking of how to explain it. "They're places where people go to get scared. It's all fake, of course—people dress up as ghosts and monsters to try and frighten you."

Kaldur frowns, seeming both intrigued and hesitant. "You... choose to be frightened?"

"Exactly!" you laugh, and he just shakes his head, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips.

Arriving at your place, you lead him into the living room, which you’ve decorated with every classic Halloween element you could think of. Fake bats dangle from the ceiling, a carved jack-o'-lantern sits on the windowsill, and you've even set out some plastic spiders and a bowl of candy on the table.

Kaldur's eyes light up as he takes it all in. "It's... unique," he says, his voice soft but genuinely impressed. "Atlantis has many festivals, but nothing quite like this."

"Well, tonight you're getting the full Halloween experience." You nudge him with a playful grin. "First up—pumpkin carving."

You hand him a small, rounded pumpkin along with a carving knife, then sit beside him on the floor, guiding him as you both start on your jack-o'-lanterns. Kaldur is surprisingly meticulous, focusing intently on carving a perfect face. Every so often, he glances at you to make sure he's doing it right.

"It's not so different from some art forms in Atlantis," he says after a while, admiring the way the flickering candlelight inside his jack-o'-lantern makes it come to life. "Though it seems… temporary?"

You chuckle, setting down your own carved pumpkin. "It is. Part of the magic, I guess. Just like the holiday itself—it’s here for a little while, and then it’s gone."

He nods thoughtfully. "I think I understand. There is beauty in temporary things."

Next, you set up a spooky movie marathon. Kaldur sits close, and you wrap a blanket around the two of you as the first horror movie begins. You can feel his arm tighten around you at the tense parts, his eyes fixed on the screen with a mixture of horror and fascination. It’s adorable, really—watching him, someone so used to real danger, get absorbed in the suspense of a scary movie.

"This is... unsettling," he says quietly during a particularly scary scene, but there's a hint of excitement in his tone. "I can see why you enjoy it, though. It's thrilling in a strange way."

The final Halloween activity is the one you've been most excited to share with him: costumes. You bring out two matching costumes you picked out—a classic pair of superheroes that you knew he would appreciate. Kaldur is a bit surprised when you hand him the costume, raising an eyebrow as he holds it up, but he changes into it nonetheless.

When he steps out of the bathroom in costume, you can't help but admire him, heart fluttering as he strikes a playful pose. He's clearly a little unsure, but the soft smile on his face lets you know he’s enjoying this too.

"So, what do we do now that we’re dressed up?" he asks, looking around.

"Trick-or-treating is mostly for kids," you say, laughing, "but we could walk around the neighborhood. Plus, I have some candy we can share."

As you both wander back outside, your hands once again intertwined, Kaldur keeps glancing at you in a way that makes your heart warm. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he says, his voice sincere. "It's... comforting to experience a holiday with your loved ones in such a joyful way."

"That's one of the best parts of Halloween," you reply softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "It’s a little spooky, a little silly, but it’s a great time to be with people you care about."

Under the moonlit sky, surrounded by the soft glow of jack-o'-lanterns and the playful shouts of trick-or-treaters, Kaldur pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Then I am glad to experience it with you."

And together, you walk through the Halloween night, lost in each other's warmth, feeling like you’ve both made a new tradition to treasure.

#imagine #x reader #dc #dc comics #dc universe #fluff #x you fluff #young justice #kaldur'ahm #Kaldur'ahm x reader #Aqualad #aqualad x reader

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 1 year ago

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1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket

Bullet on Wheels: The 1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket

Easily one of the wildest General Motors dream cars of the Motorama era, the Olds Golden Rocket was the epitome of Jet Age design. Let’s take a closer look.

Throughout the 1950s, Harley Earl and his forward-looking crew at the GM styling studios frequently turned to aircraft and space travel for their inspiration. There might be no better example of the automaker’s guided-missile design theme than the far-out Golden Rocket, Oldsmobile’s Motorama dream car for 1956. “The Supersonic Age comes to automobile styling!” the company proclaimed.

1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket

Constructed in fiberglass on a shortened Oldsmobile passenger car perimeter frame with a 105-inch wheelbase, the Golden Rocket was essentially a bullet on wheels in side view (above.) But under the skin, the show car was fairly conventional with a 324 CID, 275-horsepower Olds Rocket V8 up front, Hydra-Matic automatic transmission, and leaf-spring rear suspension. The custom wheels employed integral brake drums, and a pair of fuel tanks were housed in the rear fenders. Note the “dotted-line” segmented whitewalls, a novel feature that never went any further.

1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket

At a little more than 200 inches long but less than 50 inches tall, the Rocket sported an impressively low silhouette, which required some ingenuity in the packaging of the two-seat cabin. For easier entry and egress, a roof panel popped up when the door was opened on either side, while the steering wheel rim swung upward and the bucket seats rose three inches and pivoted on their mountings. Upholstery was blue and gold leather, while the speedometer was housed in the steering wheel hub. The lap belts and driver pedals display a strong aircraft influence.

While the Rocket seems to be one of the more obscure GM dream cars in current times, it did include some ideas that turned up later on the General’s production models. The stubby rocket-type tailfins would adorn some memorable Cadillacs of the early ’60s, while the split-window teardrop rear window is extremely familiar. It was next tried on a dead-ended 1958 Corvette styling proposal, then famously appeared on the 1963 Corvette Sting Ray coupe. As with a number of GM Motorama dream cars, the fate of the Golden Rocket was not officially documented, reportedly, but it hasn’t been seen or heard from in years and is presumed destroyed.

1956 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket

#Oldsmobile Golden Rocket #Oldsmobile #car #cars #Golden Rocket

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kats0nlin3 · 2 months ago

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master of none 2 | eddie munson x fem!reader

summary Keeping things secret with Eddie was supposed to make things easier—not blow everything up in your face. But after Dustin lets it slip to Steve, you're left dealing with your brother's fury, Eddie’s indifference, and the sinking feeling that maybe hiding wasn’t just about Steve after all.

warnings nsfw, 18+ only, smut (implied/somewhat explicit), arguing, emotional hurt/comfort (or lack thereof), lying/deception, sibling conflict, yelling/shouting, mild violence (wrist grab, shoving), cursing, Y/N

Part 1

𝜗𝜚

Moans and ragged breaths filled the thick air of Eddie’s van, mixing with the faint creak of the suspension as you moved atop him. The vehicle rocked gently with every roll of your hips, windows fogged from the heat of your frantic rendezvous.

This wasn’t the plan. Eddie had only offered to drive you home, but neither of you made it that far. A block away from your house, he had to pull over, hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. Stress relief, he called it. And who were you to say no when you needed it just as badly?

His jeans were shoved down to his ankles, your shirt bunched above your chest as he latched onto one of your breasts, sucking harshly while his hands molded your hips to his lap, guiding your movements. You whimpered as he flicked his tongue over your nipple, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips when you clenched around him in response.

But despite the fire burning low in your stomach, your mind was elsewhere—on Dustin, on the way he caught you two in the hallway earlier, on the way Eddie spent all afternoon trying to talk the kid down before he could go running to your brother.

Your rhythm faltered. Your heart pounded for an entirely different reason. What if Dustin ratted you out?

Eddie noticed the shift immediately. His grip tightened, stilling your movements as he pulled back to meet your gaze. “You’re overthinking it again.” His voice was husky, but laced with something softer—understanding.

You exhaled sharply, fingers curling around his shoulders. “Can you blame me?”

He tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Henderson isn’t gonna open his mouth. Not unless he wants to lead the campaign against Vecna next week.”

You tried to smile, but the worry still gnawed at you. Eddie’s thumbs traced slow, soothing circles into your skin before he sighed and reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it back down over your chest.

“Worst case scenario?” He leaned back against the seat, his hands settling comfortably on your thighs. “Henderson squeals, Steve loses his shit, and what? He locks you in your room to keep you away from me?” He chuckled, dark eyes twinkling.

“He might just do that! He’s overbearing and annoying—doesn’t think I can take care of myself.” You huffed, running a hand through your messy hair.

Eddie’s lips curled into a smirk. “I think you handle yourself pretty well…” His voice dipped suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder with a playful scoff. “Pervert.”

He chuckled, but the amusement faded when he noticed the lingering tension in your posture.

“I’m sorry…” you murmured, voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

Eddie exhaled, shaking his head as he gently patted your back. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” He shifted, hands settling on your hips before carefully lifting you off him. “I gotta get home and get ready for work anyway.”

You nodded, tugging your shirt back into place as he pulled up his jeans. As you reached for your bag, Eddie glanced over, watching you with a raised brow. “Hey, you sure you don’t want me to just drop you off in front of your house?”

You slung the strap over your shoulder, shaking your head. “I’ll be okay walking. Call me when you’re done with your shift?”

His smirk softened into something almost sweet. “Of course.”

Eddie leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before reaching for the door handle. The van creaked as he hopped out, then turned back to offer you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down before stepping onto the sidewalk.

He stayed there for a moment, hands in his pockets, watching as you started down the street toward your house. You glanced over your shoulder, offering a small wave, and he returned it with a lazy salute before climbing back into the driver’s seat.

The engine rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the dim street as he drove off in the opposite direction.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

You slip quietly through the front door, moving swiftly toward the stairs. Maybe—just maybe—you can make it to your room unnoticed.

You’re on the third step when his voice cuts through the silence.

“Y/N? That you?”

You freeze, shoulders tensing before letting out a quiet sigh. So much for sneaking in.

Dropping your bag by the stairs, you turn just enough to call over your shoulder. “Nope. Just a robber here to steal all your furniture.”

Steve emerges from the kitchen, a mug in one hand, his other braced against the wall as he leans casually, watching you. His expression is unreadable, but the silence stretching between you is heavy.

You stare at each other, neither of you speaking for a long moment.

Finally, he takes a slow sip of whatever’s in his mug, then asks, “Where you been?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “China.”

His jaw tightens. He sets the mug down on the side table with a little more force than necessary. “Answer the damn question and quit being a smartass.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Jesus, I was with Chrissy.”

“Bullshit.” His voice sharpens, accusation clear in his tone. “Tell me the truth.”

Your heart kicks up a notch, but you keep your expression neutral. “I already did.”

Steve doesn’t buy it.

You turn on your heel and start up the stairs, but he’s right behind you.

“You really wanna do this right now, Steve?” you mutter, gripping the railing a little tighter.

“Oh, I’m not the one doing this,” he fires back. “You are.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Am I?” Steve’s voice is low, dangerous, as he grabs ahold of your wrist.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Let me go!”

His eyes burn with frustration, his jaw clenched so tight you swear you hear his teeth grind. “I know you’re seeing Eddie.”

Your entire body goes still. So much for keeping it a secret.

Your voice comes out small, barely above a whisper. “Dustin told you.”

“You’re damn right he told me!” Steve barks. “Told me all about how Munson had his hand all over your ass in the hallway like it was no big deal!”

Your stomach twists. Damn it, Dustin.

You rip your wrist from Steve’s grasp, heart pounding. His anger is radiating off him in waves. His voice, sharp and booming, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Steve…” You take a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. “Just calm down.”

His eyes flash with something almost protective, but it’s buried under the fury. “My baby sister is being taken advantage of by Eddie the freak Munson, and you want me to fucking calm down?”

“It’s not like that!” you snap, frustration bubbling over. “Eddie doesn’t pressure me to do anything I don’t want to. He respects me!”

Steve’s eyes darken. “Did you sleep with him?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

You don’t answer.

But your silence says everything.

Steve exhales sharply, turning away from you, hands gripping his hips as he stares at the floor. His chest rises and falls with heavy, uneven breaths, and when he finally turns back, his expression is set—resolved.

“Whatever you both have going on,” he says, voice cold, final, “it’s done. I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”

“What? No!”

“If I so much as catch him near you, I swear to God—”

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your voice cracks as you shove him, hard enough to make him stumble a step back. “You want to control every aspect of my life, and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you!”

Steve takes the hit, but his expression doesn’t waver. If anything, it only hardens. “Hate me all you want, but Eddie is not a good person, Y/N. You think you know him, but you don’t, okay?” He shakes his head, voice heavy with something that sounds almost like desperation. “I’m not gonna tell you again. It’s over.”

Your chest heaves, anger twisting inside you like a storm, and before you can stop yourself, the words come spilling out.

“You want to talk about being a good person? What about Nancy, huh?”

The second her name leaves your lips, something shifts. Steve’s entire body goes rigid, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“That’s different,” he mutters, but there’s no confidence behind it.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Is it?” Your voice drips with venom, with years of pent-up frustration. “She dumped your ass and got with Jonathan not a second later, and here you are, still chasing after her like a damn dog.”

Steve’s throat bobs, but he doesn’t say a word.

“She never loved you, Steve,” you continue, and you can feel the anger morphing into something cruel, something ugly. “And she never will. So get over your little fantasy of having a family because you're always going to be a second choice—to Nancy, and to Mom and Dad!"

Silence.

Steve doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

And for the first time tonight, you wish you could take it back.

Because the look on his face—the way his lips part slightly, the way his eyes dim, like you just knocked the wind out of him—makes your chest ache.

You hurt him.

Steve sniffles, barely holding himself together. When he speaks, his voice is quieter now—tired, defeated.

“You wanna be with Eddie? Go ahead.” His gaze flickers to you, but there’s no more fire in it. Just exhaustion. Just hurt. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do anymore.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “But I’m telling you right now… when he hurts you—don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The words sting, but it’s the way he says them that really gets to you. It’s not anger anymore. It’s not even frustration.

It’s resignation.

“Steve…” Your voice is small, hesitant, guilt creeping in at the edges.

But he doesn’t respond.

He just turns, walking away with slow, heavy steps, like the fight has completely drained out of him.

And then, without another word, he disappears into his room, shutting the door behind him.

Shutting you out.

And for the first time tonight, you don’t feel victorious.

You just feel… alone.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

The Hideout was alive with the usual late-night chaos—motorcycles lined the parking lot, their chrome glinting under the dim streetlights. Bikers leaned against their bikes, cigarette smoke curling into the air as their girls perched on the seats behind them, laughing at some crude joke. A few drunk men stumbled out the bar doors, voices slurred, arms draped over each other like war buddies barely making it home.

You weaved through the crowd, the scent of beer, leather, and smoke thick in the air. The steady thrum of a bass guitar vibrated through the floorboards, the band already deep into their set. It wasn’t your usual scene, but getting in was easy—Eddie had made sure of that, giving you a voucher that granted you smooth entry past the bouncer.

Sliding up to the bar, you spotted Jeff behind the counter, drying a glass with a rag that had probably seen better days. His eyes widened when he saw you, and without hesitation, he leaned over the counter, pulling you into a half-hug.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted with a grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you on this side of town. What’s the occasion?”

You returned the smile, though something nagged at the back of your mind. “I was looking for Eddie. Is he on his break yet?”

Jeff’s grin faltered. He frowned, setting the glass down with a dull thunk. “Eddie? He’s not supposed to be in today. Doesn’t work Tuesdays or Thursdays.”

Now you’re confused. “Wait… what? He told me he was working tonight.”

Jeff’s brows knit together, shaking his head. “Not unless Beverly dragged him in against his will—which, trust me, I would’ve heard about.” He leaned on the bar, studying your face as confusion flickered into something else. Something colder. “Sorry.”

You swallowed, trying to push down the sting creeping up your spine. Jeff must’ve noticed the shift in your expression because he flashed you a reassuring smile. “How ‘bout a root beer? On me.”

You hesitated, but ultimately sighed, shaking off the thoughts creeping into your head. No use jumping to conclusions, right? “I guess one wouldn’t hurt.”

Jeff nodded, grabbing a bottle and popping the cap off with ease before sliding it across the counter. You took a sip, letting the fizzy sweetness distract you.

For a while, lost in conversation with Jeff as he poured drinks and joked with customers, you almost forgot that Eddie had lied to you.

Almost.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“Sorry about yesterday, babe. I know I said I’d call, but the place got so busy, and Bev needed everyone’s hands on deck,” Eddie says between bites of his sandwich, speaking casually, like it was just another day.

“I bet.”

Your tone is flat, but if Eddie notices, he doesn’t say anything right away.

The two of you had met up for lunch at your usual spot—a worn-down bench tucked just inside the tree line by the woods, far enough from school that no one would bother you.

You’d been turning this over in your head all night—whether to call Eddie out for lying to you twice now, or to just let it go. After all, it wasn’t like you were in an actual relationship. No labels, no promises. That was the deal, wasn’t it?

Eddie watches you carefully, his chewing slowing as he picks up on the shift in your demeanor. “You okay?”

You stare at your food, stabbing at it with your fork, the plastic scraping against the cheap to-go container. You don’t look at him.

“I’m fine.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it.

But for now, you’re not sure which of you is better at pretending.

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his sandwich onto the crumpled wrapper beside him. “Okay… what did I do this time?”

“Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Well, it is,” you snap, tossing your plastic fork onto your food container with a little more force than necessary. “So can you just drop it?”

Eddie scoffs, running a hand through his hair. His patience is starting to wear thin now, the easy going demeanor slipping. “What’s with the attitude?” His voice sharpens, irritation creeping in. “I said I was busy at work—sorry I couldn’t set aside a few minutes to give you all the attention you so desperately need.”

Ouch.

“And I’m sorry that you’re full of shit,” you snap, abruptly standing up. The bench scrapes against the dirt as you shove your food container into your bag with jerky, frustrated movements. “I lost my appetite.”

Eddie watches you, his expression shifting from irritation to something unreadable. “Where are you going?”

“With someone who’ll actually give me attention,” you shoot back, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Since I so desperately need it, remember?”

His jaw clenches. “Oh, come on—”

But you don’t give him the chance to finish. You flick him off without so much as a glance, turning on your heel and storming back toward the school.

You don’t make it far.

Before you can take more than a few steps, Eddie is suddenly in front of you, having shot up from the bench faster than you expected. He blocks your path, his boots planted firmly in the dirt, dark eyes locked onto yours.

“Seriously, what did I do?” Eddie demands, frustration laced in his voice.

“You lied to me!”

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I went to The Hideout yesterday,” you spit out, heart pounding. “And you weren’t even on the damn schedule!”

Eddie’s expression darkens. “You’re coming to my work now?” His tone turns defensive, almost accusatory. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Listen, you asshole—I only went because I needed to talk to you!” The words come out sharp, your voice shaking with more than just rage. “I got into a huge fight with Steve, and now he’s not speaking to me, and—” Your breath hitches, throat tightening as the emotions catch up to you all at once.

“And you lied to me!”

“Shit… he found out about us?” Eddie mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Of course he did! What did you think was gonna happen? I knew I should’ve been the one to talk to Dustin…”

Eddie lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Whoa, hold on—you're not seriously blaming me for that little shit running his mouth, are you?”

“I’m not saying that,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“You might as well have,” he snaps, voice dripping with irritation. Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks back toward the bench, his boots kicking up dust as he goes.

“Why are you mad?” you demand, throwing your arms out. “I’m the one who should be pissed! My own brother shut me out because we have to sneak around just to see each other!”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he yanks on his leather jacket, his movements stiff, tense. Then, without looking at you, he mutters, “Well, if it’s that much of a hassle to you, then maybe we should just stop seeing each other.”

You blink, the words hitting harder than you expect. Then you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Eddie doesn’t say another word.

He just brushes past you, the scent of leather and cigarette smoke lingering in the space between you as he strides away. Leaves crunch under his boots, the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

You stand there, frozen, staring at his back until he disappears into the trees.

By the time the lunch bell rings, you realize you haven’t moved.

And you’re still alone.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x y/n smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #joseph quinn #navigation

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dumpsterfire-daydreams · 8 months ago

Text

Reader POV:

The walk to their side of the base was overwhelmingly silent. Ghost’s heavy footfalls led the way down a series of sidewalks and into a nearby building while you scurried behind him. You kept up with his pace as best you could and pulled out your phone to send König a few hurried texts in case he finally came to the parking lot and found your car empty. You knew how he could get sometimes and the last thing you wanted to do was start his day off with a panic attack.

“Headed in now. With the big scary skull face guy. See you soon.”

Your previous messages still sat unread. Where the hell was he? You’d triple checked the date beforehand and made sure you were headed to the right address. Just to put your mind at ease, you started scrolling back up through your conversation to make sure you hadn’t misread anything.

Your thoughts abruptly ground to a halt when you crashed face first into your escort’s back. It wasn’t enough to knock him off balance (as if you could even do such a thing), but he let out a small grunt as he wheeled around to shoot you a pointed glare.

You shrank back a bit, both embarrassed and terrified that you’d pissed him off. A litany of “sorrys” started spilling out of your mouth, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand and motioned for you to stop speaking.

He’d stopped outside the door of what looked like a conference room. From the hall, you could hear muffled voices coming from inside. You felt like a puppy being told to “stay” when he just said “wait here” before turning the knob and ducking inside the room.

A few moments later, the door reopened a crack and the skull mask reappeared.

“Briefings over. Captain says you can come in.”

You cautiously pushed the door open and stuck your head into the room. By now, the voices had all stopped. As you ventured inside, you were met with a room full of men dressed in tactical gear similar to that of your escort. And they were all staring at you. You didn’t get the feeling that your presence was unwelcome. But still, being the center of attention was not your favorite feeling in the world. Your face flushed as you waved sheepishly, looking for a familiar figure. Luckily, it was him who spotted you first.

“There you are, little maus!” König practically jumped up from his seat and rushed in to give you a bear hug.

As usual, you couldn’t see his expression behind the black fabric he always kept draped over his face. But you could tell just from his eyes that he was beaming. You were used to the way he towered over you. At first, his height had scared you silly. But with your face nestled into the center of his chest and his arms locked around you, you could already feel your anxiety melting away. He made everything feel just right.

“The suspense!” a lighthearted Scottish voice called out from behind him.

“Come on, cabron!” Another man said. “We want to meet her too, you know!”

“Scheiße, yes, yes. I’ll introduce you.” König gave you one last squeeze before releasing you and guiding you over to the rest of the group. “Everyone. This is mein liebling, Y/n.”

You smiled, giving another small wave. “Nice to meet you all.”

König motioned to the man standing at the front of the room beside a whiteboard. “This is Captain Price.”

The burly man in question sauntered over, his eyes cheery and pleasant as he shook your hand. “Please,” he laughed. “Call me John. I’m glad you could come by!”

“And this,” König went on. “This is Alejandro.”

You extended your hand to the dark-haired man as well. He had a nice smile and a suave air about him. But you were still surprised when he raised it to his lips and kissed it. This earned him a playful shove from König.

“Nice to meet you, senorita,” he crooned, hopping out of König’s reach.

“Alright, alright. My turn,” the Scottish voice returned as a blue-eyed man with a mohawk pushed his way through the group and offered you a friendly hug. “John McTavish. But everyone calls me Soap. Aren’t you a looker! Good on you, lad!”

A blush crept its way across your face as Soap gave König an approving nod and a light punch in the arm.

There were so many names and faces to remember. As you made the rounds, shaking hands, you added more and more names to your list. It was all a bit overwhelming. But everyone seemed welcoming and kind. Well, everyone except the brooding figure sulking at the doorway. Your escort hadn’t ventured any further into the room, almost like he was intentionally keeping you at arms distance. His mood was a stark contrast to the rest of his companions. Whereas everyone else was open and inviting, he was completely closed off and indifferent. He just stood there like a shadow, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. His dark eyes bored into you as he unabashedly stared you down. It made you shiver as you shrank back against König.

He looked up from his conversation, eyes flitting from you to Ghost. “Ah, and that is Ghost. He is the Lieutenant.”

You thought about approaching him to formally introduce yourself and maybe shake his hand. But as you moved to take a step in his direction, König placed a hand on your shoulder as Ghost’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly before he turned on his heel and left the room in a huff.

“I think I pissed him off somehow,” you sighed, turning back to the group. “I don’t know what I did.”

“No, no, it’s not you,” König reassured you, patting your head affectionately. “That is just his nature.”

Soap snorted. “If by nature, you mean him chronically having a stick up his arse…”

“I wouldn’t take it personally, Y/n,” Price chimed in, throwing Soap a disapproving glance. “Ghost is a soldier through and through. It can be hard to turn that side of ourselves off when we’re not out in the field. But he’s a good man.”

You nodded, feeling a bit relieved. But you were still a bit wary. The way those eyes had drilled into you. You felt like an insect under a microscope. Your curiosity made you want to get closer and actually get him to warm up to you, too. But everything else about him made you want to run like hell and hide. And you couldn't figure out which response you should act on.

#call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #konig call of duty #konig x reader #simon riley x konig x reader #YHSIW

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