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oksana-moods · 4 months ago

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All Too Well

Summary: Natasha tried to mend what's left broken. Because no matter what, she's the love of your life and she knows all too well.

A/N: It's been forever. This 5k piece felt like I was writing 300k, it was difficult, funny, hard and I miss doing this more often. I hope you guys like it and please, it be amazing for me to know your thoughts about it.

You can read it as One Too Many part 2 or as a single piece, it is up to you.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, mentions of death, alcohol, angst (you know how I am, I can't simply write people kissing without suffering before).

"Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place"

The gun pointing at your face barely meters away should be intimidating, but at this point no one would blame you for not caring anymore. And you didn’t even mean the last couple of days, no, your whole life had been a fight, a struggle, an act of survival after another, so the last few days were nothing but the same blur.

The gunpower inundated your nostrils and the pungent smell masqueraded the smell of blood that clung to your brain and you were sure you wouldn’t erase it even if you got out of your current establishment.

Your heightened senses were capable of decerning all the different blood samples available in your cell: yours and from other occupants that came before you, or the blood that belonged to some of your kidnappers, who’ve learned in the worst possible way that you were not to be underestimated.

Back to the gun, the man behind it kept enchanting the same questions and you wondered how long it would take for them to get tired of your silence or mock replies. A sharp pain in the back of your head made you look up to meet his eyes, another man behind you was forcefully pulling your hair down to force your head up and you were already tired of him doing this.

“Where are the others?” The man with the gun asked, patience waning thin. Good to know you were on the same page. “Where is Romanoff?”

A blooded grin made its way to your face after you spat on his shoe. “It’s funny you think I’ll tell you now after all you’ve put me through. Do you think I’m afraid of your bullet?” And you didn’t even mean the fact that you probably wouldn’t die if he decided to shoot anywhere else other than your head, but you did mean that you were not afraid of dying.

Actually, you were so tired that perhaps laying down cold wouldn’t be unwelcomed. There wouldn’t be any pain, your body wouldn’t try to heal only to get hurt again. You thought it would be refreshing.

Two steps and the man pressed the gun over your knee, and you already knew, his wicked grin grew wider when your body convulsed with pain even though you concealed your scream in muffled grunts by biting your lips so tide you tasted your own blood, again.

“Why don’t you make it easier for you? You tell me what I’ve asked, and I kill you fast.” He pulled a chair and got comfortable for he knew all too well you wouldn’t budge easy. “I promise you. One silver bullet in your temple. Fast. Easy.”

Your eyes flashed to his. Silver bullets were really affective against your healing skills and very few possessed this knowledge. Someone must’ve tipped him off and the idea stung way much more than the powder burning the flesh inside your knee.

Only two women knew your weakness. Well, your creators knew, of course, but they were not in condition of speaking anymore. Unless someone from this organization was capable of going to hell to have a chat and then return to the living world with this intel.

Your love for Yelena was something so natural and it grew so fast for she was just deranged as you were: uncapable of functioning as what people labeled as normal. You were kindred souls and you felt like you were twins separated somewhere along the road and considering both of your past, who actually knew?

After long nights during long missions, you confided in her this. You were scared of losing control because sometimes the beast inside you took over and your brain couldn’t always sway the instincts. So you handed her one silver bullet in case things went south, she was adamant in returning it to you but you asked her to keep it, for insurance.

And the other person was Natasha. You never knew how she learned this but when she recruited you many, many years ago she already knew. If the pain in your leg wasn’t so overwhelming, you could’ve laughed at the memory engulfing your mind’s eye.

Her tide catsuit adorned with nothing but her black widow symbol, swaying her hips and pretending she wasn’t scared of the woman seated in front of her. You remember how her fear smelled, a stark contrast to her pose. You recall her words, her smile, her flirtatious play all to convince you to use your skills to her so called greater good.

And before leaving, she boldly closed the distance between you and placed a silver bullet in your hand. You understood the message. You weren’t stupid. Later she sworn that she was the only one, at S.H.I.E.L.D. or within Avengers, to know your weakness and you believed her.

And this belief comes back to bite you in the ass.

Because you knew full well that Yelena would die, she would kill herself even, before telling someone your secret. But Natasha? You didn’t trust her anymore. She had done it before, and you knew it all too well. If you were to be honest, after one too many treasons, you didn’t care about another.

Or so you told yourself.

“Good luck.” You rasped out after a long time inside your own head.

The man tilted his head to the side and smiled that smile that told you he already knew what you would say. You would go further and say he was eager for it. “I think in the torture manual says I should tell you that I don’t enjoy this, but I’d be lying. We actually bet how long it will take for you to drop the act and start screaming.”

You bet no one thought it would be that fast. He stumped a knife down your thigh so fast and so hard you saw stars. You could feel the silver poisoning the skin and muscle where it was nested, and it burned like nothing else would.

Unfortunately for them, the apex in you was not used to be a prey and this injury was powerful enough to make your survival instincts kick in. It happened so fast it was a haze, one minute he was laughing, the other he was on the ground - lifeless, and just as the others came, they followed their leader – well, who you thought the leader was, at least.

Funnily, your countdown was wrong, or you were not the only one putting your captors down. As the blood ran free down your leg, your strength and capability of keeping fighting diminished. When a body collided with yours, it was a miracle you were still awake.

Her red hair framed her face perfectly, skin white as snow and her green orbs looked like there was an aurora borealis looking down at you as she nested you in her lap as you felt life slipping through your fingers - veins.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me.” Her voice was strange, as if speaking was a struggle and she reeked fear, but not the same you were used to, as if she was feeling a different type of fear, it was a strange concept, but you hated it, nonetheless. If these were your last moments breathing, you wanted her true smell. The one you knew all too well.

“Please, don’t you dare die. I’ve got you.” Her muffled words found your ear, but it was hard to even comprehend anything at all when her lips felt so cold in your forehead. “Heal. Why are you not healing?”

“Silver.” It was all you could say. It was all you had to say.

She frantically started yelling at someone, perhaps the comms, but before you could close your eyes for good, you saw a red blur and he was complaining about your weight.

Her giggle filled the room as the first sun lights announced the day had just begun, you looked at her alarmed, for it was definitely something new. “Are you mocking me?” Enable to conceal a smile yourself.

“I’m not.” She denied, but her laugh told you differently. Her freckles painted her angelical face and her eyes looked like they held the sun captive. And you. And she knew, all too well. “It’s just I can’t believe you still have this scar.”

Her index finger traced said scar as she looked at you expectantly, waiting for your explanation, even though she already knew.

“I didn’t know Wanda’s necklace was made of silver, okay.” You finally replied, pulling her close to you as if her weight meant nothing, right in that moment this action felt so normal, so homely that it ached. “I thought I could take it from that heated place for her, but it burned me as I did. It was silly.”

She giggled again, though muffled by your shoulder this time, there was something new in her eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It was cute. Silly, but cute. That necklace belonged to her mother.”

“I know.” You were locked in her eyes, and she stared at you as if she was trying to reach your soul, then you felt her fingertip leaving the palm of your hand to intertwine your fingers as she let her eyes stray to look at both of your hands.

The feeling was overwhelming. You were aware of how fast your heart was beating, you could only hope she couldn’t feel or hear it, for in that moment, all you wanted was to engrave the sight of you, together, and you wish you could just have this forever. Have her forever.

“I’ve never felt this before.” Her brows were furrowed in a way that made you upset, but you wouldn’t let go of her hand for nothing in this world, even if it was to soothe the crinkles in her forehead. “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, there was nothing that you could do but wait for your brain to register her words and meaning, for a whole minute you simply stared at her, trying to search for a catch or a joke but you found none. And she looked up at you so innocently that you found yourself believing in her.

“I thought-.” You tried, but she never let you finish your sentence.

“I know what I said.” She stopped you midsentence, but her voice was not stern, it was almost tired. “This is not what I feel anymore.” Again, her eyes found yours and the way they shone made your knees weak, luckily you were laying on her mattress.

Somehow, they conveyed so much of this feeling she had claimed she was not capable of nurturing that your stomach did somersaults. And right in that moment, you realized that perhaps silver could hurt you, but this woman was your true weakness.

Specially if she’s looking at you the way she was.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You whispered, it was terrifying saying again the three words that you were sure would make her fly away from this strange arrangement you found yourself in. Yet she didn’t.

“I know.” She confirmed after a while admiring your eyes as if she could read your mind. After deciding she was content with whatever she found, she leaned in and pecked your lips so tenderly it hurt.

Then, when she looked at you again you saw, from the small smirk growing in her lips, that she had gone back to play her prime character: the Black Widow.

“Let’s have a breakfast before the funeral, shall we?” As she got of the bad, you copied her movements going back to your own suitcase to find something comfortable as her voice broke the silence filling the room. “I never asked how you and Sharon became friends to the point you’d come to a funeral of her relative.”

The cleanliness of the room was the first thing you were aware of. In fact, you didn’t even realize you were awake, therefore alive, before the smell hit your nostrils. And with it, her scent.

The occasional up and down from her feet and bouncing leg was the only sound in the room except for the noise coming from the heart monitor over your head. She was anxious, that much was obvious even if you weren’t an enhanced being.

Mentally searching for your injuries and pain, you understood that whatever had happened with you, was all gone. Excluding the lingering pain in some specific places that you credited to silver induced wounds that would take way much more time to wear off.

However, considering the state you were in, whoever tended these wounds had operated a true miracle.

As you opened your eyes, you half expected bright lights, common to these hospital rooms to hurt your eyes, but you soon identified that the only source of light was a yellow bulb close to the door.

Natasha.

“Thanks for working the lights down.” You rasped out and stifled a giggle as she jumped from her chair by the wall and bolted to your bed side. The book previously nested between her hands now long forgotten on the floor.

The iron grip which she clutched your hand didn’t go amiss to you. “A week.” The sadness in her eyes was palpable. “A whole week blacked out.” She explained further but you didn’t need to know the details of how long you were sleeping or how many times your heart stopped at surgery.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Then it hit you, the same type of fear your nose caught when she found you in that facility, it was fear but not the one someone feels when they’re actively facing danger, but it was fear for someone else. Fear of losing someone.

Something stirred inside your heart, but it was something that you couldn’t dwell much longer, not, at least, in that moment.

“They had me, after you sent me as scout.” Your tone was flat, and her eyes widened a little at the bluntness of your accusation, though you were far from settling for little. “They knew about the silver.”

Her hold faltered, but your hand was still snuggled between hers. “What are you accusing me of?” She narrowed her eyes, but her green orbs were bright even in the poor light.

“Cynicism doesn’t suit you the way you think it does.” Before you could even pull back your hand, she completely let it go and got to her feet. “Look at my eyes and tell me that you actually didn’t let them get me, just to find their hideout.”

She had her back turned to you, acutely avoiding your gaze. “Look at me!” You demanded and she had the gall to look at you through her lashes, as if her seductive skills could help her now. You wouldn’t fall for that, and she knew it all too well.

“It wasn’t my intention for you to be captured and I never thought someone else would know about your weakness. I thought I was the only one alive to know.” She finally turned to you, eyes now darting around the floor as if it could grant her the answers she sought.

“Lena knows too.” You corrected her, but if she was surprised by your update, she never showed.

Shaking her head right to left as if to deny such possibility, she exclaimed. “She’d never do this to you.” It was funny that at least in this matter you agreed. “I think she loves you more than she loves me.” A sly smile escaped her lips and you had to restrain your heart from fluttering at the sight of it.

“I was waiting for your check-in. I went to your assigned coordinates, and I know I underestimated their numbers, but I would never let someone capture you.” Her feet dragged her back close to your bed but maintained some distance between you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You shot back without missing a single beat, crossing your arms around your chest.

She sighed tiredly and looked down at the floor. You wouldn’t let her forget that she was the main cause for you to be locked in the Raft, well, her and your support for Steve when Ross tried to shove the Sokovian Accords down your throat, and solely because you shared his point of view.

After being controlled for most of your life by a group with shady intentions, you swore you’d never submit your loyalty and services to a third party again, even if it was a government group – specially a government group, actually, so only over your dead body you’d accept the Accords.

But when you came back to see if Natasha was fine, she had gone without thinking that you were left behind and in the care of Ross to be taken to the Raft with the others, without sparing a single thought to you.

“I’d never ever willingly put you in danger.” She said taking another step closer to you. “I have never mentioned to anyone about your secret, and I purposefully kept it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.”

Her eyes kept darting from her hands to your eyes, never focusing, never staying too long. “Look, I know Yelena would never speak about it, but I wouldn’t either. And I didn’t, you must believe me!”

“I must?” Your eyebrows shot up so high so fast it hurt. “Well, you made it pretty damn hard for me to believe, don’t you think, Nat?” Your tone was hard, but you were not even speaking too loud.

Somehow, Natasha thought this hurt way much more.

“C’mon all I feel for you-” She tried to counter, but you wanted to swallow the lump stuck in your throat trying to choke you, so you cut her midsentence.

“Words, Natasha.” She found herself locked within your burning eyes. “I kept you as an oath, yet you hid me like another dirty secret. And all you’ve felt you kept hidden – buried – just as who you really are.”

After years thinking about how she lured and how she hurt you, you thought that maybe spatting what your relationship really was – a hidden lust, would make you feel better, would free yourself from her hold, but it didn’t.

After all, calling her unfair wouldn’t change how lonely she made you feel, how she took your happiness away whenever she drew herself back to her main character as she left you daydreaming about imaginary scenarios built in “what ifs”.

As your words found her ears, they settled heavily in her stomach. She knew she had massed up, she had hurt you many times, yet all she wanted was go back in time and erase all her wrongs and all the times she promised and never delivered.

She didn’t possess a time stone, though. There was nothing she could do about the past, however, she knew she couldn’t run from her mistakes anymore. If she wanted to start anew, she’d have to show she was different.

She wanted to, no, she needed you to understand that she was a whole new person because you’ve changed her. She didn’t want to hide anymore and for that she’d have to let go of her walls and be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable.

Funnily, she had played with her vulnerability before, being vulnerable just enough for people to lower their shields or masks so she could get what she wanted but this was something else entirely.

This time she wouldn’t act. She’d be vulnerable, at your mercy hoping she’d make it out alive on the other side. It was something new and it scared her, but losing you was scarier.

“I didn’t know you came back to check on Barton…” She tried weakly, knowing that this was a sore subject for the both of you. Each with your own views and reasons.

“I helped Clint, yes, but we went back looking for you. Yet, Ross was all we’ve found.” Your glare was cold, perhaps colder than ever. In the pit of her stomach, she knew she deserved it, she just wish you could move on with it.

“I was wrong, okay. Is that what you want to hear?” She snapped, though her voice was still in a low tone, eyes sad. And you hated it. “I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for not going after you that day at the airport or at the Raft.”

Her eyes fell once more to your hands, she slowly nursed them in hers and this action was so soft, so hesitantly as if she was afraid of you taking it away; afraid of you shutting her down once more.

“I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t, and for that I’m sorry. But I- I wish we could try move on from this. I still have feelings for you.” As words flowed through her tongue, you watched as eyes portrayed a sincerity that you rarely saw within those forest green orbs.

Usually, they hid her true feelings or performed like an actress twisting her truths mixed with pieces of lies and characters she created through life until she herself was unaware of what was true or not.

“I hear you, Natasha.” You rasped out after a long moment lost inside her beautiful eyes. “You speak of things as you did before, yet you never act on it.”

Her hands were warm, a muted invitation to go back to your dreams of having a life with her. The only person who never showed any sign of fear about your nature, that never once treated you like an animal.

She never treated you like a woman either.

“I want you to show me.” Your stone-cold eyes punctuated your feelings in the matter at hand. If she wanted to have you back, she’d have to show you she’s changed for words could only take her so far.

“I will.” She vowed and smiled softly, though her heart was shattering inside her chest. She made a career making people believe in whatever she wanted, she supposed she’d be able to make you believe in her heart.

How hard would that be?

Laugh filled the room after another not-so-funny Tony’s jokes and your head throbbed as the sound echoed inside your skull. Parties like these were always a torture for you, after all, your enhanced abilities of hearing and catching smells better than a normal person proved to be really awful in a place full of people with different perfumes, scents, chattering and loud music.

However, Tony himself forbid you from leaving tonight for this was his engagement party and it would be rude to Pepper if you left too early. Deciding that indulging him was easier than arguing with him, you found a safe corner and pretended to enjoy whatever was going on.

Though, your sharp eyes, even though you tried hard, always wandered after a certain redhead and you could all but clench your jaw every time you judged someone got too closer for your comfort.

Jealousy clawed its way through your throat and even the best bourbon from the bar couldn’t help it. You knew you had no right, no claim, especially after your last conversation. Still, your heart acted on its own and made sure you’d regret your words and resolve.

Considering that you were one drink from scooping lower than ever for her, you abandoned your glass on a random table and vanished to the balcony in hopes the fresh air could help your head and brain.

The cars down the streets ran from side to side completely unaware of your inner turmoil as you pathetically looked down searching for answers you wouldn’t find there.

In fact, as your answers arrived at the balcony, you realized that her hills clicking the marble floor announced her before her perfume invaded your nostrils in waves as she moved closer and closer towards you.

“Tired of mingling?” She asked as she lined her body at the railing. Her red hair bobbed around her ears in meticulously designed waves and her dark maroon dress hugged her curves in all the nice places.

She was flawless.

As always.

“I think I might’ve break Sam with incredible five words.” You gave her a sly smile that she retributed with a smirk and a fake gasp.

“This is basically a whole speech.” She clicked her tongue playfully. “I think you’ve been around Tony just too much.”

You snorted a laugh and she let a broad smile paint her lips, content with herself for making you ease the pained expression adorning your face the whole evening.

Uncertenty hugged you like a cold blanket as you pondered your next words. As if rolling the dices in a game you were sure you’d end up losing, you turned to her and spoke. “You’re really beautiful tonight, Nat.”

Your heart fluttered as she fought back a smile trying to win her lips and looked down as if she wasn’t expecting your praise. She genuinely looked flustered by your words.

“Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself. Well, I already praised your choice of suit, earlier.” She turned her body so now she was fully looking at you and you tried to remember how to properly breath. However, it was as if the air was composed of her scent.

You were intoxicated.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. “This is the first time we speak tonight.” You clarify. Truth be told you’ve been keeping a fair distance from her and funnily enough she didn’t make the effort to push you and your comfort space.

She did make it obvious that she was trying, though. She invited you out in front of people, she brought you coffee whenever you were reading in the garden in the morning or brought you a blanket when you were on the couch watching movies with Wanda.

Whenever you were called to a meeting, she worked the lights so it wouldn’t hurt your eyes that much. And, one day, she brought you the files they recovered from Hydra from the mission you were taken, and you both learned that one of your creators left behind a journal and there were a lot of dirty secrets down there. Including yours.

To be honest, she was really trying to show her true intentions, but you were still afraid that this was just for show, just a ploy for you to lower your guard and be disappointed after she return to her normal pattern of misleading.

However, the way she stood basking in the moon light looking at you like she was slowly sipped through the cracks of your determination of not giving in that easy.

Her soft smile was a sight to see, and you even forgot that you were waiting for her to reply. “Directly, yes. I sent a drink to you earlier.”

Then it clicked in your head. Your laugh was loud and very uncharacteristic of you, though Natasha simply stood there admiring your carefree stance, a rare occurrence.

Your mind traveled to a moment earlier that night when the waiter approached you with a drink in hand, stating that the lady had sent it to you complimenting your fine tailored suit. At the time, the way he vaguely waved in the direction of Agatha and other ladies, you thought that one of them had been the person.

Though if you thought harder about it, Natasha was at the bar in that moment, right behind said ladies.

“Now it made sense.” You grinned back at her and nodded your head softly. “Thank you for the compliment and the drink.”

“Of course.” She flashed on last smile and turned her body to admire the city bellow and you did the same. Though you found it hard to ignore her presence by your side. You could feel the heat emanating from her skin, her sweet scent still impregnating the air around you and you could hear her fast heartbeat. It was uncommon.

In a haste, you both turned towards each other and started to speak at the same time. A nervous laugh scaped your lips as you signaled for her to go on first. And she did.

She closed her eyes as one does when bracing for the impact, as if second-guessing her next step, but when she opened her eyes again, there was no doubt and no deceit. “I love you and it’s ruining my life not having you, knowing that I am the one who pushed you away.”

You were speechless by her blunt confession, specially because she never, ever, used the word love in such a direct sentence. She expressed her feelings before, yes, but always with an adore, in love with you once or twice, never this straight.

She took your silence as hesitancy and reached for your hand, she yearned for your touch and the closeness of the last weeks made her heart clench with longing. “I am asking for a chance to show you who I really am, and I, please, I know I’ve made mistakes, but I wish to make it up to you.”

Her eyes were pools of emotion and you had trouble in breathing with her so close now. “Please, let me love you the way you deserve, the way I should’ve since the very first time I kissed your lips.” Her free hand caressed your cheek in such a tender way that you felt your knees weak.

She was definitely your true weakness.

You brain was haywire, short-circuiting with the lack of air and the sudden increase in your heartbeats. There she was. The woman you felt like you could love forever, offering you what you always wanted: her heart. For real this time. Not the hide and seek games you’ve been playing in the past.

She promised and have been showing changes, however, if you were to be honest, all she’d have to do was to come at you and say hi. If you were to be honest, she would always have your heart at her mercy.

Unable to form words and knowing that your silence was unnerving for her, as you saw her brows furrowing, you decided to answer her differently as you brought your hand to her own cheek and guided her lips to meet yours.

Her lips were soft as they used to be, and you could feel her body melting into the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open when you broke the kiss and smiled softly at her. “I love you too, Nat.”

Smiling back at you, Natasha circled her arms behind your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and another. And another.

And you knew, all too well, that she wouldn’t stop soon.

taglist: @username23345; @afuckingshituniverse; @strangegardentaco; @waltermis (I know you didn't specifically asked to be tagged, but I am doing it, nonetheless, because if your rb - and because you sparked a fire in this. Thank you.)

#natasha romanoff #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #marvel angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #all too well #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow

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mdsbabygirl · 2 months ago

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“I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN AND I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME”

HANMA SHUJI X F!READER

Synopsis: you didn't think that rejecting your biggest fan Hanma Shuji could spiral into him kidnapping you and making you his.

Wc: 4k

Cw: reader is a famous influencer, vulgar language, heavy smut, dark contents: kidnapping, drug use, violence, mentions of stalking, degradation, Hanma is a psycho yandere, uses of pet names (doll/ sweetheart/doll face), hard sex, spanking, clit play, nipple play, fingering, missionary, doggy, creampie, etc...

Note: this is my first time writing smut after a long hiatus so feel free to give advice!

"Wake up .. wake up doll face!" You faintly heard a man's voice say, as you struggled to open your eyes. Your body felt extremely heavy and tired, to the point that even breathing was way too exhausting.

You felt a few nudges on your shoulder that managed to stir you awake from your drugged state, finally getting the strength to open your eyes and blink a few times to adjust your vision to the lighting. "Took you long enough to wake up, pretty doll!" You heard the same voice say, chuckling.

You turned your head to look at the source of the sound and you finally saw him..Your kidnapper.. A tall, muscular man with raven-black hair adorned with blonde streaks, amber-flecked eyes that seemed to penetrate your very soul, chiseled hands, covered in black ink tattoos, sat on a chair beside you..

You attempt to move but find yourself incapacitated, wrists chained to the bed. Disoriented and confused, you mumblingly ask, "Where am I?" Hearing an unnerving metallic click, you look down to find your wrists bound.

you start to get anxious, nervously pulling your arm, trying to free yourself from the restraints your kidnapper had put on you... Hanma chuckled, finding your reaction rather silly and cute.

His hand reached to grab your wrist, stopping your movements, "ah ah! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that!" He cooed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your wrist, as if trying to soothe the pain.

you scowled looking at this deranged man pretending to care for you after kidnapping you.. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" You shouted, desperately trying to put some distance between the both of you, but to no avail..

he giggled, shaking his head, as his hand grabbed a strand of your silky hair and swirled it around his slender finger. "When will you learn that you can't get away from me, hm? Why did you have to make me go to such lengths to make you understand it?" He asked , leaning his head forward making you face the other way.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing your chin w his punishment tattooed hand, forcefully making you look at him.. "doll face.. why won't you just accept it? You're mine..you've always been mine, and you always will!" He added, a sly grin appearing on his face, as he caressed your soft cheek. "YOU'RE A SICK MAN! WHO TF EVEN ARE YOU TO SAY SUCH THINGS TO ME?" You yelled at him, tears welling up in your eyes, as the overwhelming emotions of fear and rage collided within you.

Hanma's eyebrows shot up, feeling a bit startled from your reaction. Did his doll face really forget him that easily? Was his love not enough for you to remember him?

"You hurt me sweetheart! You really do!" He said, his psycho smile replaced by a small pout, as his grip on your face tightened, "how could you forget me so easily?!" He asked in disbelief,"thinking I've done so much for you! supported you when no one had, sent you gifts, gave you the attention you deserved, even confessed my love for you!" He nervously listed, recounting his numerous attempts of showing you his twisted affection, amid sadness, denial and a tinge of anger.

Horror washes over you as your mind is racing, finally connecting the dots.. your kidnapper.. he.. he was your stalker!! Past memories came rushing through your brain, images of him sitting at the back of all your social events, the numerous spam likes and comments left on all your posts, the myriad of calls and dms he'd send, all those suspicious love letters and expensive gifts at your doorstep, and yesterday's sick love confession at your latest event, made you recognize your capturer's true identity.

That twisted grin of his made its way back to his features, a sinful glint in his eyes, "I see you finally remember me now doll face!" He spoke, his voice tinged with deranged delight as he took a strand of your soft hair and swirled it around his slender finger. "You look so gorgeous, doll" he cooed, tilting his head as he admired your helpless state, his eyes brimming with wicked affection. He leaned down to press a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, a strangely gentle gesture that clashed with his twisted actions.

He leaned back in his chair and opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out a pack of your favorite snacks. He opened it and took a piece out, chuckling as he recalled overhearing you mention them to a friend when he'd been following you around.

"you know, I gotta admit you really have good taste doll! This snack is very delicious!" He said cheerfully, biting it before he brought the rest to your mouth, and asked w a smile on his face "you hungry?" You looked at him in shock, how could he act so calmly as if he didn't just deprive you of your freedom, treating you with such kindness that betrayed his twisted actions?

You glared at Hanma with pure hate and disgust, wondering how a person can be so sick to their core. "I'm not hungry!" You retort, your voice laced with rage as you look down at the mattress... "Are you sure?" He asks again, pressing the piece of food to your lips "you might need some energy for later!" He said, his voice tinged with sin as his eyes twinkled in lust..

your mind raced with the possible implications of his words, anxiety and fear washing over you, making your body quiver "I said I don't want any!" You reply sternly, looking away from him.

Hanma sighed, putting down the pack of snacks, before he pulled out a small vial from his pocket and twisted the cap off. "IG we'll start right away then!" He spoke, an emotionless expression plastered on his face as he harshly grabbed your face, forcing your mouth open, and pouring in that clear liquid before he quickly muffled your mouth and nose, forcing you to swallow the potent aphrodisiac.

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, as you felt the drug go down your throat and into your system, fogging your mind and making you more vulnerable than you already were. "What.. what did you give me?" You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to move and think straight. "Hmm? Oh it's just something to make you feel good!" He replied, his voice tinged with greed as his tatted hands grabbed your breasts, groping them, making you gasp loudly.

"It shouldn't take long before the effects start showing up!" He added, a sly grin appearing on his face.

His head quickly found its way to the crook of your neck, biting the soft flesh so that it left a purplish mark. He chuckled lowly, "you belong to me now! I can finally do you as I please" he spoke in a sultry tone, his breath feeling hot against your feverish skin.

You tried to push him away but the drug had already weakened your body, reducing you to putty in his hands.. your intoxicated state made you enjoy his teasing , betraying your want for escape.

He laughed at you, mocking your miserable attempts of getting away from him, "you're so pathetic, sweetheart! Just accept it!" He spoke teasingly, as he lifted his head to meet yours, his lips ghosting over yours, "just admit that you crave me as much as I crave you!" He added, this time w a huskier tone, before your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

The touch of your mouths sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal washing over you. Hanma's lips were soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. His tongue seeked entrance in your hot mouth, brushing over your lower lip, making you gasp softly and slightly pull away.

His hand swiftly grabbed the nape of your neck, tangling into your hair and keeping you in place. "Don't try to fight it y/n.. just kiss me!" He whispered lowly, his seductive voice sending a jolt of tingles to your core that made the wet spot on your panties get bigger and bigger. Your drugged body obeyed to his lustful requests, opening your mouth for him, eagerly welcoming his tongue in, to which he grinned proudly.

Your tongues met, dancing a slow, sensual tango. Hanma's other hand cradled your face, pulling you closer, as your kiss deepened, feeling the intensity building between you, the raw, primal need that drove you both.

His kisses trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a delicate, erotic way. You let out soft moans, your body trembling under his touch. The line between captor and captive blurred, as the intensity of your connection grew.

He planted kisses on your soft skin, leaving behind love bites and hickeys in a mixture of red and purple marks. Each time he applied too much pressure with a bite or suck, he always soothed the pain by licking and gently kissing the spot. After all, he didn't want to cause his precious doll any real pain - he loved you too dearly.

Hanma lifted his gaze, his cock throbbing from the sight of your flushed state, panting heavily.So He took this as a sign to proceed with his twisted plans. His tatted hands quickly made their way to your body, pulling down the straps of your dress and exposing your chest to his lust filled eyes..

Your cheeks blushed even more as you felt his large hands knead your breasts, your nipples already perked up from the drug. "Damn doll face! Your nipples hardened already?" He mocked you, his chuckles echoing through the room.

You felt humiliated, not only were you at the mercy of your psycho stalker, but that damn aphrodisiac was making his twisted actions feel incredibly pleasurable..

you panted, as his long fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching and squeezing them as he pleased.. "oh come on sweetheart, can't you give ne some better reactions?" He inquired, taking your left nipple between his thumb and index finger, twisting it hard just to get a reaction outta you.. that surely made you moan loudly, which made him laugh.. "that's what I wanna hear doll face!" He said as he kept groping your tits, his dick getting harder and harder by each passing second.

your moans were filling the room, and your body was growing hotter w each passing second, your panties soaking up further.

Every suckle, every flick of his tongue on your hard nub, every twist of his long fingers, sent a jolt of pleasure cursing through you, making you arch your back into his mouth, to which he grinned in satisfaction. He finally got you.

You instinctively started grinding your hips on the mattress, desperately looking for some friction to ease the tension you were feeling between your pretty legs.

Hanma quickly caught up to your actions, stopping his ministrations before he grabbed your hip, tightly squeezing the flesh to make you stop your movements "what are you doing?" He asked in a stern way, almost as if he was mad you were so needy for him.

"I.. I..nothing!" You managed to mumble, your mind way too fogged from the potent drug to even form a coherent sentence, the only thought in your lust filled mind was getting off to him.. quick.

"Nothing? Looked like you were being a needy little slut grinding like that on my bed" He replied in a low degrading tone.

Your breath hitched as you felt a sharp sting on your skin and a slapping sound echoed through the walls... Did he just spank you? You were too high to even comprehend what wicked things he was doing to you, but that sharp pain surely did feel pleasurable.

A high pitched moan left your plush lips, as you felt another spank on your hip, making your body jolt. Hanma quickly grabbed you by the face again looking at your hazed state. He chuckled lowly as he admired all his hard work, adoring the girl he so much longer for.

Your teary eyes met his greedy ones, needy gaze falling on his grinning face, mentally begging him to fuck you already, to completely ravish you�� until there was nothing left... His sick smile widened further, as his pants became impossibly tighter, his dick aching for some kind of attention.

"Hanma.. please fuck me! Please fuck me already I can't take it anymore!" You whine, eagerly taking his hand and putting it between your legs, making him feel the pool of wetness dripping out of your needy pussy..

Your action took him a bit by surprise, although he wasn't the least bit bothered, he was actually very pleased. "Aww, my little dolly whore wants my attention hmm?" He cooed, the fingers of his sin tatted hand lightly grazing your clothed cunt, teasing you on purpose, just for the fun of seeing you buckle your hips into his touch.

"Please Hanma.. I need you! Please!" You cry out, begging for him to take you then and there, to ruin you like the good little slut you are. He chuckled, who thought those damn aphrodisiacs were so useful? He thought to himself before he ripped the nightgown from your body, leaving you almost bare In front of him, if it wasn't for your soaked panties that he quickly ripped off too. "Now we're Talking!" He said in a sultry voice, as he admired your naked body before him, so beautiful, so gorgeous, all for him to enjoy..

he always had this reaction when he saw you naked, it's almost as if it was his first time—which obviously wasn't he saw you naked before many times but you never knew you had hidden cameras in your house— seeing you so vulnerable like this, made his cock throb in anticipation and his mind flood with the images of him pumping his hard dick in and out of you until you couldn't think walk anymore.

He pushed you onto the bed, falling on your back, as you looked at his undressing form, the sight of his toned chest and abs sending tingles of excitement to your throbbing clit.. you breathed shakily, reaching out to touch his chest but unable to do so from the chains that restrained you..

Hanma laughed at your actions, finding them cute, "look at you! You're so far gone you're willing to touch your kidnapper! Such a horny slut I got here!" He spoke mockingly, leaning in to press his lips onto yours, capturing them in a fiery kiss, full of lust. Your mouth greedily welcomed his tongue in, your wet muscle swirling around his and engaging in a sinful dance that sent shivers down both of your spines.

He pulled away looking at you intensely "if I take that chain off of your hand, do you promise me you'll be a good girl and obey everything I say?" He whispered lowly, his gaze so intense he could burn holes into your skull..

You eagerly nodded, feeling excited about the idea of being freed—partially— from his restraints.

He smirked, quickly opening the locks on your chains and letting your hand fall beside you. Before you could even think about moving it, you felt both of your wrists get held over your head, restricting your movements once again. You gasp at the sudden action, looking at a grinning Hanma who simply said "well... At least my hands won't hurt as much as the chains!" Before he leaned in close, his lips meeting yours in a forceful kiss, stealing your breath, and asserting his control.

The taste of your lips, slick with saliva, only fueled his desire. Hanma's free hand traveled down your body, his fingertips finding your moist, quivering entrance. Gently, but assertively, he began to stroke you, your moans muffled by his own mouth.

As his fingers danced against your throbbing clit, your hips instinctively bucked, craving more. Hanma broke the kiss for a moment, whispering in your ear, "You're going to enjoy every second of this, no matter how it started."

He kissed your neck, biting down softly, sending shivers down your spine. The kidnapper continued to tease you, his thumb flicking back and forth against your swollen clit. You squirmed under his touch, yearning for more.

He slid one finger inside you, curling it, before adding another. The stretch of his long fingers making you gasp loudly, arching your back , and fluttering your eyelids shut as you felt pleasure curse through your body, sending sparks of pure Bliss through your nerves. He began to finger you in earnest, his touch firm and precise.

As your orgasm neared, Hanma suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you wanting and confused. His voice, a smug whisper in your ear, told you, "No, darling, you won't cum on my fingers. You'll cum on my dick."

He quickly repositioned himself, his erect cock sliding into your slick, waiting entrance. The sudden intrusion caused you to gasp, but it wasn't in discomfort. Hanma began to move, his powerful thrusts matching the intensity of your desires.

As he rammed into you, your moans grew louder, a crescendo of your arousal. You could feel the edge of your climax, and with each thrust, Hanma's cock brushed against that gummy spot inside you, teasing you even further.

In a frenzy, he grabbed you by the jaw, and your lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached the precipice of an earth-shattering orgasm. Just as it crested, Hanma held you even tighter, forcing you to endure the pleasure without release.

"Not yet," he growled into your ear. "I'll let you cum when I'm ready.."

Your kidnapper continued to ravage you, his need for control in every movement, every thrust. Your body quivered, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to burst, as Hanma held you on the edge, denying your release.

It was too much, way too much! The pleasure was way too intense you couldn't stop yourself from cumming, your arousal juices oozing out of your abused hole, squeezing around his throbbing length making him reach his climax too, involuntarily forcing him to join you in your twisted pleasure, and to spill his thick semen inside you, pumping you full of his cum—just like he imagined — even tho he explicitly told you not to do so, yet..

You felt his thrusts become faster than before, his moans louder and filthier echoing through the walls of the room, "unghh.. ahhh shit, fuck! Fuck you, you little slut! I told you not to fucking make me cum didn't I?" He shouted at you in between moans, his fucked out state preventing him from fully focusing on you—which is considered good luck— and scold you further.

His pace became even harsher than before, his thrusts hitting so deep inside you you think he could bruise your cervix. He didn't care if he was overstimulating himself, he didn't want this to end, he wanted.. no he needed to keep going..

You felt a painful spank on your butt, followed by a harsh thrust that made you scream so loud, then another spank followed by yet another hard thrust of his, "you filthy little slut, how dare you disobey me?" Thrust. "Answer me!" Thrust. "Who gave you permission to cum?" Spank.

You cried out, feeling so overwhelmed by the intense feelings you were experiencing, taunting pleasure mixed with blissful pain.. a powerful combo that made your body shake uncontrollably, and scream so erotically loud, even the sluttiest pornstars would be jealous of you..

"No one" he growled, "no one gave you permission to be a lil bitch and cum unannounced on my dick!" He spat out, "I'm gonna have to punish you!" He said huskily before he pulled out, and flipped your weak body, so that your perky butt was on full display for him. "Now doll face, I'm gonna teach you what being a little slut does to pretty girls like you ok?" He spoke in a stern tone, his punishment tattooed hand harshly slapping your already reddened skin..

you whined, your body jolting from the intensity of his slap.. it hurt.. it hurt so much but it felt so goddamn good in that blissful state of yours. His large palm made contact once more with your freshly bruised skin, the slapping sound echoing through the walls.

You tried getting away from his harsh touch, gathering all the strength left in your weak quivering body, to crawl away from Hanma, but he was quicker than you, stronger than you. He forcefully grabbed you by the hips, and shoved his cock back inside your slippery hole, the sudden fullness making you scream, gasping for air.

"That's what happens when.. unghh.. pretty dolls don't obey their masters" he muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to moan as loud as you, the endless squeezes of your overstimulated cunt feeling so heavenly on his throbbing cock.

His rhythm was harsh; deep thrusts hitting all the way up your cervix, his hard length rearranging your insides as it pleases. His tatted hands were tightly gripping the flesh of your hips, bruising it with how much he was squeezing.

He still didn't recover from the earth shattering orgasm he just had, which made him more sensitive than he wanted to be. Hanma wanted this sinful moment to last forever, he needed to have you under him, moaning like a slut as you got your pussy pounded by him. That's the only thing he'd need.. he craved you for so long and thinking he finally got you like this felt like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

Hanma pounded into you with animalistic fury. Your bodies collided in a ferocious, primal dance, as your ass bounced with each of his thrusts, already raw and bruised from the countless spanks.

His tatted hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving dark imprints as he ravaged you. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his grunts grew louder and more frenzied.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. With a deep, guttural groan, he unleashed his hot, thick cum inside you, filling her completely. His seed spilled into you, an endless fountain of his desire, as his cock pulsed with each powerful thrust.

Hanma continued to ravage you, his relentless pace forcing you to the very edge of endurance. When he finally collapsed against you, panting heavily, your body shook with spent, trembling pleasure.

Slowly, he pulled out, gathering the sticky remnants of his lustful passion with his long, slender fingers. He then presented his prize to you, smearing the cum across your lips. In a possessive whisper, he said, "I'm gonna have so much fun with you, my little cumslut!"

With that, he pulled you to your feet, your legs wobbly and unsteady. He guided you to a nearby chair and, with a wicked grin, said, "Now, you can clean up your mess, doll face" watching you with a predatory glee as he imagined how he'd push his throbbing length up your tight throat.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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msgexymunson · 11 months ago

Text

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down.

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face.

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand.

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face.

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be.

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood.

“Is he why-”

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!”

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-”

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly.

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-”

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing.

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!”

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?”

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances.

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into.

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently.

“He's through here.”

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life.

“What… is that?”

“That is Eddie.”

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it.

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??”

“Listen, I know it's insane-”

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes.

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-”

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings.

“Eddie.”

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle.

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.”

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you.

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you.

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!”

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy.

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm.

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?”

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes.

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?”

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now.

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?”

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens.

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?”

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again.

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.”

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands.

“That was- how did you do that?”

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle.

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.”

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm.

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?”

One slow blink.

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.”

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body.

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?”

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches.

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.”

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed.

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.”

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion.

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off.

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room.

“I think he passed out.”

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.”

“What do you mean you suppose?”

“Steve!”

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.”

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint.

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.”

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts.

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-”

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to.

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.”

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.”

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?”

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.”

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.”

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.”

“I got it.”

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket.

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?”

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.”

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly.

********************

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness.

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved.

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep.

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip.

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it.

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package.

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view.

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out.

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything.

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen.

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?”

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up.

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-”

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.”

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently.

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?”

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.”

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else.

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.”

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down.

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.”

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye.

“Eddie, how you feeling?”

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm.

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?”

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft.

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours.

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly.

“You want some water?”

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face.

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink.

“Good. Let me get you some water.”

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass.

“Hey Munson, still alive then?”

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it.

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.”

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it.

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?”

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist.

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges.

“...Thank.”

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word.

“Eddie, you can talk?”

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw.

“...harrrd.”

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?”

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm.

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?”

He blinks once.

“OK, does it hurt a lot?”

Two slow blinks.

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them.

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.”

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes.

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.”

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress.

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently.

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.”

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes.

“Yes, tail. Look.”

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing.

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall.

“Woah, easy there, big guy.”

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway.

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.”

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you.

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.”

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded.

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.”

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath.

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.”

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him.

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?”

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word.

“Hurrrt.”

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?”

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes.

“Eddie, I can't help if-”

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself.

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur.

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks.

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?”

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?”

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws.

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right?

“D-do you want me to help?”

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you.

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch.

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again.

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding.

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut.

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses.

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.”

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes.

What in the absolute fuck was that?

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear.

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open.

“You OK? Can I help?”

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough.

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.”

He snaps his head towards you, whining.

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.”

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name.

********************

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that.

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him.

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed.

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone.

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open.

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.”

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming.

“What the hell happened?”

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm.

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.”

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?”

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.”

A crash next door makes you all jump.

“Are you gonna-”

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.”

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.”

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft.

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes.

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go.

“Eddie what the hell happened?”

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides.

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.”

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else.

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!”

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief.

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!”

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them.

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!”

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens.

“AARRROOOOOOO!”

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound.

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls.

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.”

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy.

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-”

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained.

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.”

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running.

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?”

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet.

“-Orry.”

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret.

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door.

“But we- what if he-”

“Steve!”

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.”

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder.

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!”

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so.

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.”

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet.

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something… is there a toolbox or…”

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file.

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.”

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady.

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad.

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.”

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything.

“I brought some beers, you want one?”

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation.

“See? That's great! You just need practice.”

“Prrractice.”

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.”

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you.

“What is it?”

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form.

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?”

“F-rreak.”

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern.

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out.

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.”

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed.

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him.

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?”

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket.

Eddie appears in the doorway.

“No.”

“Huh?”

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom.

“You, herrre.”

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up.

“Wait!”

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence.

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-”

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently.

“Herrre?”

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.”

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air.

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee.

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.”

********************

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday.

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth.

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan.

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?”

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you.

“-orrning. Bet-terr.”

“Are you making breakfast?”

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit.

“Prractice.”

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie.

“You need any help?”

He shakes his head and gestures to the table.

“Sit. Eat.”

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it.

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.”

“You'rre -elcome.”

“And you're speaking so well!”

“Prrractice.”

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate.

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more.

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit.

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain.

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes.

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out.

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?”

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words.

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.”

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle.

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!”

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head.

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?”

Eddie flashes his teeth.

“Bet-terr.”

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?”

“Sure did. Eddie made it.”

“Really?”

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.”

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.”

“I… can hel-p.”

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens.

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-”

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once.

“Ah. Right.”

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?”

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.”

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you.

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.”

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.”

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens.

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.”

Eddie growls in his throat.

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!”

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway.

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm.

“You good?”

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you.

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.”

“Liarrr.”

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond.

“You want me. You… want… this.”

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth.

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?”

“Can scent.”

“What?”

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts.

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!”

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine.

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation.

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.”

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-”

“Want to.”

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink.

Are you really gonna do this?

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose.

“Could you… please?”

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands.

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver.

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you.

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach.

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over.

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder.

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face.

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks.

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.”

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you.

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did.

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck.

“Wan’ kiss you.”

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast.

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words.

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into.

********************

“Eddie, come try this!”

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake.

“Eddie?”

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open.

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?”

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you.

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?”

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him.

“Oh, it was in a drawer.”

“Hot.”

You giggle, cheeks flushing.

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?”

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed.

“Trrrying. Not good enough.”

“Yet.”

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you.

“Yet. What you calling forrr?”

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin.

“Well, I was asking you to try this.”

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh.

“Don't… do…”

“What, don't do this?”

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout.

“What you gonna do about it, huh?”

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown.

“One… two… thrrree…”

“Oh, it's like that is it?”

“...fourrr… five…”

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past.

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall.

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists.

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest.

He makes a face, scrunching his snout.

“That bad?”

“I know… what rrrather eat.”

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face.

“You like this.”

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over.

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose.

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip.

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open.

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!”

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow.

“Steve, I don't think-”

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps.

“What- what's going on!”

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child.

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-”

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch.

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-”

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.”

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-”

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it.

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!”

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas.

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first.

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie.

“I'm sorry about him.”

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch.

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.”

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile.

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?”

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks.

“Eddie?”

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders.

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.”

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.”

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath.

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else.

“Seems I won.”

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion.

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind.

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.”

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting.

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?”

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek.

“Don't count… Caught you.”

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?”

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips.

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass.

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged.

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.”

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?”

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back.

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.”

“Ah, I see. So what do you-”

“One. Two… thrrree…”

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed.

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room.

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space.

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head.

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench.

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…”

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?”

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below.

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically.

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl.

“I can smell yourrr cunt.”

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.

“Eddie, Eddie please.”

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple.

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex.

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning.

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!”

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger.

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting.

“Eddie, too much, please-”

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside.

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.”

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.”

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base.

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.”

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling.

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be.

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans.

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort.

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other.

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear.

“Mine.”

Part 2

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

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juwaiin · 28 days ago

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Racism in F1 is so, so prevalent and normalized and I’m sick and tired of everyone saying ‘these conversations are SO important’ only to 1- go about them in the most reductive way possible, and 2- only accept these ‘conversations’ from WHITE people who water them down. These conversations are ugly. They aren’t meant to be palatable and presenting them that way just takes away from the weight of it all??

The racism in F1 is very deep-rooted. Listing every incident would necessitate its own post (and raise my blood pressure). We could talk about the abuse that Lewis Hamilton has received from the FIA, the media, and other drivers; the way Zhou Guanyu is spoken about generally; the way Yuki Tsunoda is CONSTANTLY painted as aggressive and receiving severe punishments while other drivers get away with being more aggressive and offensive; The way GP organizers played the Mexican hat dance instead of the national anthem for Pedro Rodríguez; and so on. My point is, racism has been integrated into and accepted in this sport since its inception, and that has cultivated a fanbase that also normalizes racism!!

Obviously, the governing body of the sport is racist, but so are your favorite drivers! I know it’s an uncomfortable truth, but the way some of you actively defend these actions is insane. I won’t give any examples lest I get accused of targeting anyone and dog-piled again (see: the barrage of racial slurs in my anon box lol).

Besides the drivers, some of YOU actively engage in racism. I am specifically speaking about the fandom here because this is something we can actually recognize and change. I received SEVENTY anon messages calling me various slurs after criticizing a driver, which I feel like I don’t need to explain why that was a deranged reaction. A creator was also recently under fire for excluding THREE hijabis specifically, which,,,, One is a coincidence. Three is intentional. The fact that the creator was comfortable doing this so blatantly, and that nobody around noticed, just goes to show how normalized all of this is.

A lot of the phrases that are commonly thrown around are also, frankly, rooted in xenophobia. One example is when hosting countries in the middle east and Asia as a whole are labeled as ‘human rights violators’ when the United States (which hosts THREE GPs) and the continent of Europe (which makes up the majority of the calendar!) are funding multiple genocides? Listen, I lean as left as left goes and it goes without saying that all of these countries have ethical issues, but why are the ones that are constantly highlighted somehow coincidentally the ones that aren’t in the west?

It isn’t enough to ‘have these conversations. Stop defending drivers who don’t deserve the defense. Stop regurgitating phrases without considering the implications of them. Stop engaging in active racism!!

#why can you say every german name imaginable but somehow ZHOU is hard??#sorry if this is a lot i just feel very strongly about this #actually im not sorry what the fuck is wrong with some people #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #motorsports #racism #obviously racism is in every form of motorsports but it's so much more prevalent in formula than fucking. nascar

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besidesitstoowarm · 2 months ago

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so i'll talk about this more tomorrow when i put up my "amy's choice" write up but i am thinkingggg about moffat's characterization vs davies

like with rory and mickey. rory is obviously the mickey, the back-home boyfriend getting ditched in favor of the doctor. but the thing with mickey is like... he's a good reason to leave, not to stay. he's kind of a loser, implied in the first episode to be cheating (telling rose not to check his email) before she even meets the doctor! he's the tin dog, mickey the idiot. he represents everything rose is tired of. she straight up never seems to care about him ever, and the doctor openly mocks him, and even the narrative doesn't seem interested in giving him interiority or sympathy

vs rory. rory is a legitimately good option: good career, kind, gentle, intelligent, handsome (mickey was also handsome, to be fair). he's the antithesis of the doctor, but he's not presented as the worse option, just very different. he has the doctor dead. to. rights. immediately! "you make people a danger to themselves" and that will carry on, past "you forget that not every victory is about saving the world" he's like the Reasonable One

the potential danger of traveling with the doctor is treated as an inevitable minor footnote in the davies era, i feel like. it's always there but it's rarely Real. rose was so borderline suicidal i'm amazed she only got trapped in another dimension, martha dipped cause his ass was pathetic, donna was literally railroaded and never had a real choice. but amy? amy feels like she's in real danger of losing rory, she does lose her daughter, she DIES in the end. and clara dies. and bill– like the consequences are real. they make their choice, and their choice makes them. obviously all of them are in danger in any given episode but it feels like the moffat companions really play that out to the inevitable conclusion

and i feel like his companions have faults and traits that actually... matter? like with davies companions we do learn a lot about their lives in terms of jobs and skills and family, but less about deep character flaws, about ethos. i do love them but halfway through s5, the obvious impact on the story that amy's abandonment issues have feels genuinely unmatched by earlier companions. she's savage! she's nasty! she is given a trolley problem and chooses murder suicide bc either her life is a lie or her husband is dead and life isn't worth living. it's deranged. in the davies era it felt like i was piecing together characters and arcs on my own, picking up my own observations, it feels far more passive than it does with amy so far. amy is deliberate, her character arc and growth is very active. clara and the doctor get so codependent she tries to kill him and then dies horrifically. like it's insane

none of this is meant to shit on the davies era. i enjoyed it a lot and love all his companions (except adam but he doesn't count) and obviously the moffat era couldn't have been what it was without davies preceding, but i'm really remembering why moffat's era is my fave. it feels so intentional, so rich, it is exactly what i personally want out of a story. i love s5 so much

#Doctor Who #My experience on this rewatch is like #1. Davies era is exactly as good as people say BUT not for the reasons they say it is #2. Moffat fucking RUUUUUUUULES. I may retract this point in s6

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bitethedevil · 2 months ago

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What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael

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amorgansgal · 5 months ago

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A Quiet Evening

Finally posting part 6 of my fat female tav/reader x Gale fic! I'm still not quite pleased with how it ends, but I think I would spend months rewriting that over and over again and still not be satisfied. So it is what it is. I hope you all enjoy! I think I might leave this as the last one.

Fat Female Tav/Reader x Gale

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, penetrative sex, some reference to suicide

It filled your mind. Every time you saw Gale or had a quiet moment to yourself you would think about the charge Mystra had given him. Every time you all ventured out into the shadow curse lands, trying to get closer to Moonrise towers so you could find out more about Ketheric’s immortality and invulnerability, you felt like you were choking. And it wasn’t on the dark, ever present shadows that made the atmosphere heavy and gloomy. A tight thorny vine had wrapped itself around your heart and lungs, making it difficult to breathe and you wished you could claw it out of your throat. But it felt impossible to even talk to Gale about it. He seemed so determined to act like nothing was wrong, even though you occasionally caught the melancholy behind his eyes at times. You were so wrapped up in your own concerns, both for him and undoing the shadow curse, that it was sometimes days when you would share a kiss. And even then the kiss was distracted and half-hearted. It was no longer the passionate storm that left you clinging to him. You missed him, but you were so fearful about loving him again if it was all for naught, if in just a few days or weeks he would do as his goddess bid and destroyed himself to stop the Absolute.

You kept meaning to talk to him more about it, to beg him to reconsider, to tell him that you selfishly wanted him to stay alive, because he meant the world to you and you didn’t want to face the world without him, that you both had already lost so much time to mistakes and fear that it wouldn’t be fair to lose him entirely when you’d had so little together. That Mystra was content to let him throw his life away, but you cared about him so deeply that you feared the wound he would leave in your life with his departing would never heal.

Now you were trudging back to camp, tired and drained after a long day in a strange, dark hospital and Astarion had been clever enough to convince a mad surgeon to let his creepy, deranged nurses practise on him, rather than on you all. Then when you found a lute within the hospital and realised it belonged to the flaming fist who was lying in the Last Light Inn, still muttering his strange song about Thaniel, you had to return to the inn and been fortunate to revive him from his cursed slumber. You insisted on rest though, even though Halsin wanted to find Thaniel while he was lost in the shadow curse. It would keep for one more day and you were keen to see Gale again.

When you finally reached the campfire though and warmed your cold fingers, you could see that it was not Gale who was waiting by his tent, but his simulacrum. You frowned in puzzlement and approached it, wondering why Gale hadn’t just written a note for everyone to read if he needed to go somewhere. You approached it apprehensively.

“Good evening!” the simulacrum cried, rather exuberantly. “I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He wishes to extend to you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale.”

This was even stranger. Why couldn’t he have just asked you for a private conversation in person? Why was he making his simulacrum do it instead? You almost felt tempted to say no and that whatever Gale had to say he could say it when he got back to camp. But you supposed you were too curious about it to deny him and also you felt a bit bad for being so moody and sullen, but it was harder now to feel cheerful or good about anything.

“Very well, where is he?”

The Simulacrum beamed and gestured to a path that curved round the riverbank. “Simply follow yonder path and soon you will find him.”

You nodded. “I’ll be there soon, if you can tell him that. I’m just going to wash off and change.”

The simulacrum gave a rather flamboyant bow and you wondered if Gale had intended for his copy to come across that way or if it had caught wind of his more excitable, extravagant side. It made you smile for once, and you quickly washed off in the nearby river. The air was still cold and you wrapped a cloak around you, before following the path along the river and into the forest. It didn’t take you long to see your wizard, sat on the ground, his arms outstretched towards the heavens, little flickers of the weave floating through the air and as you came near him you could see he had conjured up a galaxy of shimmering stars.

The sky was bluey-green with streaks of purple overhead and for a moment you were mesmerised by the sight, until Gale turned to look at you. He lowered his hands and leaned back, and you headed over to join him. You sat down and were rather surprised to see the dark, intense look in his gaze, it instantly brought you back to your academy days when he had begged to let him have you. You quickly looked away, though you could not deny the rush of desire you felt at his keen look or the hot flush on your cheeks.

After a moment of silence, Gale began to speak, “I love this time of night. There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn would never break… The cradle of eternity, the timelessness of lovers, that most beautiful of fantasies.”

You had lifted your head to look up at the sky again and caught his eye once more. That intent look had returned and he was watching you, as though you were the beautiful stars overhead, the most incredible wonder he could conjure up. You bit you lip hard, struggling to come up with anything to say. He sounded so poetic, so caught up in the magic, that you didn’t want to disturb it. You wished you could rest your head on his shoulder, but you felt strangely nervous.

He smiled softly at you, almost wistful, and continued speaking, “The curse is still present of course - just veiled and at arm’s length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different. This may be my last night alive, I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder. I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter… but I am not so sure.”

You sighed heavily and clasped your hands together over your legs. “I still refuse to believe that,” you insisted. “There has to be another way.”

He laughed quietly and reached out to tenderly stroked the curve of your ear, making you shiver at the touch. “I am always grateful for your dogged determination and I know I was so lucky to meet you again, to get to hold your hand and kiss you again. I had thought on it, very often when you left, hells even with Mystra-”

“You don’t have to lie, Gale,” you said quickly. “I won’t be offended that you forgot about me, especially when you were with-”

Gale scowled, though it was still gentle and playful. “I’m more offended that you think I would lie at all. I often thought back on it, wondering if I could have done something different and it was the first time I got in trouble with Mystra… I unthinkingly compared your kisses in my head, forgetting she could easily delve into my mind and read it like a book. She was not best pleased.”

“I don’t think I was a very good kisser then-”

“Well, neither was I, but I liked that about it. It was messy, desperate, passionate,” he glanced at you and smiled wickedly. But the smile gradually drifted away and he stroked your cheek again. “One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime and prise the fear from my heart. I know this is all unreal but I created it for you. You must know that you’re… you’re very special to me. If things were different, if I had not been a complete fool at the academy, or even if I had but I got to meet you again in different circumstances, then I’d have taken time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

He sighed heavily, then looked up at you again. “I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his confession, at his deeply longing, earnest gaze and for a moment you just sat there dumbfounded, until Gale shifted, his eyes flickered between desire and fear. “Sorry,” you breathed out.

“Sorry?” he questioned. “You’re sorry you don’t love me or you’re sorry I love you?”

“No!” you said with a laugh, a rush of swirling emotions had taken you by surprise, you were torn between joy that he had confessed to loving you, that ever clinging fear he would still do Mystra’s bidding and destroy himself in order to earn some petty form of forgiveness, anger that she had asked it of him, regret that you had lost so much time, and love… deep, overwhelming, deliciously sweet love for him, for this man who had been inspired by you to conjure stars. “I love you. I love you more than I could possibly ever say.”

He smiled. “Well that’s a relief. It would be a shame to keep up my habit of making an ass of myself!” He got to his feet, then offered you a hand and helped you up. Gale drew you close to him. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way that the gods do… intertwining our spirits in visions of the weave.”

He sounded so excited, yet you hesitated. You loved him, wholeheartedly, and you loved magic and you loved his excitement when he spoke of magic. But strangely you didn’t want visions and illusions and the weave or Mystra or anything else like that, you just wanted the man before you. You wanted the warmth of his hands on you, the feel of his lips on your neck.

“Gale, I just… can we make our first time just with us? No magic, no illusions or visions, just us.”

He looked staggered by the idea, as though you had utterly thrown him. “Are you sure? I could conjure up any sight you could dream of and a few you could not. I could use the weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you, I could wow you.”

You raised a brow. “I think I remember your attempt to both woo and wow me.”

“Ah… well it wouldn’t be like that. I like to think I have become more considerate since then.”

You came closer to him and kissed him. He let out a small moan as you did, his arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you even closer till you were pressed against him. His lips trailed down your cheek and neck. Gale lifted his head, looking almost drunk and dizzy with love for you and you instinctively smiled at the half-lidded gaze and his messy hair. “Are you sure?” he asked again. “You just want me? Ordinary Gale?”

“You’re still extraordinary, but yes, that’s all I want.”

He smiled at you, his thumb still rubbing over the back of your hand and he almost looked apprehensive, as though you might run off all over again. You looked down at the rough blanket Gale had brought with him to sit on. And while you were all for sticking to mortal pleasures, you figured you could both do with at least some comfort and you would allow yourself one bit of magic. You gestured with your hand and conjured a bed. It looked rather strange in the forest, with plush pillows and blue-grey covers, but Gale’s eyes glimmered with excitement.

“A very good idea,” he said.

You suddenly felt rather bashful about him seeing you. He’d seen your most intimate parts, but you had kept your top on. Perhaps if you could just undress as quickly as possible and climb into bed, he wouldn’t see all of you. You turned away and began to work on your corset.

“Uh… what are you doing?” he asked.

“Undressing.”

“Don’t I get that pleasure?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, halting your efforts and gently pressed kisses against your neck. “We might only have a few more nights together, but I want to take all the time in the world with you. I want to unwrap you, treasure you, make you feel like the goddess you are.”

You let out a small snort of contempt. “I’m no goddess.”

“Yes, you are,” his hands cleverly worked at the laces of the corset and finally freed you from the confines. “I would know.” He cupped your breasts through the linen shirt you wore and he let out a small groan, teasing your nipples into hard little buds and making you bite your lip hard to stay quiet as a little spike of desire rushed through you. He turned you to face him, cupping your face and kissing you, then tugged off your shirt. You instinctively put your arms over your chest. Gale frowned and tutted, then pulled your arms away.

“You’re too beautiful to hide away,” he murmured as he lowered his head again to kiss your cheek and necks, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and making you gasp. You clenched a fistful of his hair in your hand and couldn’t help leaning back so he would keep kissing you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you wondered if he’d have the strength to hold you up if you were getting so weak at the knees.

“Gods, I’ve thought about this for years,” he said. He let go of you, suddenly frantic and desperate, he made quick work of your breeches, then pulled off his own shirt as though he couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for a single moment. You climbed onto the bed and turned to face him, you thought about wriggling under the covers, but he was already crawling over you. You felt rather shy about touching him, he was so handsome. All lean muscle and firm chest and a little trail of hair that ran down to his groin. You quickly brought your eyes back to his face, your cheeks warm even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. Gods, you were acting like you were still your 20-something virgin self! You’d seen a cock before and felt Gale’s hardness pressed against you many times, but actually seeing it- you hadn’t expected it to be quite so long.

“It’s just as well you wear a robe,” you said and could’ve cursed yourself for coming out with something so fantastically stupidly, that you wanted to immediately dive under the covers and hide away forever!

Gale stopped, a wicked smile on his lips, his body hovering over yours so you certainly couldn’t hide even if you wanted to! “Excuse me… are you saying I’m well endowed?”

You covered your face with your hands. “Please, don’t tease me… it’s been a long day and I wasn’t thinking.”

He tugged your hands away from your face and ran his hands down your body. A battle of desire waged war with the age old feeling of shame and discomfort at your soft, fat belly and the rolls around your waist. You still struggled with the idea that he might find you in any way desirable.

“For a woman who is so very smart and intelligent,” he said, pressing kisses down your body, until he reached your thighs, “Some of my favourite moments are when you’re not thinking and just say whatever’s in your head.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Admittedly, part of me does want to crow it from the rooftops, but I shall not tell a soul that my love thinks I am impressively girthed!” He gave your thighs two loving kisses. “I have dreamt of your thighs, how tight you had them wrapped around my head, the sweet noises you made.”

He slipped his arms underneath your knees and opened you up to him. His eyes darkened on seeing your slit and you clenched your hand tightly to stop yourself from covering it up. “Let us see if you still make those same noises or if they have changed.”

All had been forgotten, you were at sea, adrift and awashed in pleasure, no longer caring about your size or if Gale found you desirable or if he still longed for Mystra. His tongue was magic, it had to be, the way he could so easily draw you to the peak and keep you there, tantalisingly, achingly close, and you were a mess, begging and pleading and gasping for pleasure. You occasionally caught glimpses of his smug smile, but he would swiftly return to his work. You could feel him rutting against the bed and heard his moans, and the thought of him being so utterly turned on by your own pleasure, by the taste of you, by the warmth and weight of your thighs made you utterly desperate to cum.

“Gale please!” you cried. “Please let me cum, please, I’ll do anything!”

He raised his head, his hair sticking to his forehead, his mouth and beard drenched with your slick, a brilliant smile on his lips. “Anything?”

“Gale!” you howled.

“I think you’ve earned it, you can cum, my love.” He buried himself back between your thighs and fiercely sucked and licked on your clit, slipping his fingers inside your aching, needy cunt that clenched around the digits tightly as you unravelled and the waves of unrelenting pleasure made you moan loudly, uncaringly at the stars overhead.

You caught your breath back and Gale slipped up your body, his cock twitched against your dripping slit. He kissed you, that desperate, heady kiss of him wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re still utterly delicious,” he murmured, he was instinctively rolling his hips, his cock becoming slick with your desire and you could feel how easy it would be for him to slip inside you. Though you saw a flicker of concern in his eyes and he stilled, gripping the cover tightly in one hand. You gently cupped his face, stroking his cheek. “We can stop, if you want,” he said.

“What?” you asked, still a little delirious from the wonderful orgasm he had just wrought from you.

“We can stop, if you’re not comfortable or would rather not… I remember last time, I remember…”

“Gale,” you soothed, kissing him. “Forget what happened in the past. We’re both here, we both want this, I’m not running away again.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face. “Good,” he said, and his cock easily slipped inside you, making you gasp at the sensation. Gale whined and buried his face against your neck. “Fuck, you feel good.” He took a shuddery breath and raised his head. “I won’t lie, it’s been years and…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, he groaned again and sharply inhaled. “I haven’t lain with anyone or touched myself… because of the orb… so I can’t promise I’ll last long, especially because you feel so, so good. And I’m sorry if-”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down into another kiss. “Gale, just have me, you’ve already given me pleasure and I just want you. This doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be you.”

Gale smiled, his hands stroking down to your thighs and gripped them. “I will try to make this perfect, all the same.” He thrust in slow and deep and let out another tight moan. “Gods above you feel perfect.” He lowered his head to your breast, lathering the breast with kisses and then enveloping the nipple with his warm, wet mouth, sucking on it till the tight feeling in your belly was too much to bear and you wriggled against him, though he would not let you go.

He clung onto you, as though you might melt away into the bed, but soon the self control he had slipped and he pressed your legs wider, thrusting into you furiously, his mouth everywhere, your breasts, your neck, your jaw, your lips. You breathed him in, he smelled like home, like Waterdeep, bergamot and sage and roses and books and the seasalt air. You gasped as his hips smacked loudly into yours and he frantically kissed you, as though he would swallow the sound. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“I’m close.”

You kissed him, tasting his mouth and teasingly nipping at his lower lip. “Come inside me.”

He let out a tight moan and buried his face against your neck, you groaned as he bit down hard on the flesh and felt him cum deep inside you, his hips still grinding, the last few weak thrusts, until he stilled and breathed hard.

Eventually, he slowly raised his head, his expression so full of adoration and happiness that you smiled in turn. Gale kissed you and carefully moved off you. You rolled onto your side to look at him and he smiled, his fingers trailed down your face to your shoulder, he entwined his fingers with yours.

“Thank you,” Gale said.

You laughed a little at that and he kissed you again. “I wish I could stay awake with you forever,” you murmured, feeling sated and absurdly happy. Gale curled up next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, gently nuzzling kisses against your shoulder and neck.

“We need to sleep, it’s been a long day, doubtless it will be a longer one tomorrow,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to stay awake, a deep, sweet, dreamless sleep called to you and for the first time in weeks you felt utterly peaceful and content, safe in Gale’s arms.

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