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leviathanlazarus · 1 year ago

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Bring a Friend

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~6800

Warnings: it's a threeway with HEAVY slash. Don't like it, don't read it. (voyeurism; oral sex w/ M & F receiving; dirty talking; bottom!Sam; Danny is a bit of a dom; fingering all around; protected anal & vaginal sex) 18+ only!

@mackalah sent a call to the universe asking for a Sanny x Reader fic inspired by the song Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd. I've been writing Sanny fics for a long time and I never get tired of doing it. I think I was one of the first, if not the first, writers in the fandom to write a Sanny threeway, actually...and I never thought I'd write more of those but I felt very inspired by this song and the idea...even if it doesn't fit your specific image, I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it ;)

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Sure, you had reconciled with the fact that Sam would never love you as much as he loved Danny. At first, their overwhelming affection and adoration for one another was kind of cute to you. Seeing Sam so enamored with a boy was adorable–quite special, really. You loved that he could love a best friend so fiercely, so passionately. But then it had become clearer and clearer throughout your relationship that you would never be even close to a priority no matter how long you were with Sam or how close you two became–Danny would always be closer, and Danny would always be number one.

So things ended. Amicably enough, thankfully, and you still saw Sam–and by default, Danny–all the time. You were friends. But you weren’t sure how to respond when Sam started sending you pictures that showcased more of their friendship than you’d ever imagined. Well, not seriously imagined, anyway.

The first one was almost passable as innocent–a picture of Sam and Danny’s arms slung across one another’s shoulders, Danny leaning in and pressing his lips to Sam’s cheek.

Cute, you texted back.

Jealous? Sam replied.

You balked at your phone. Sam was ridiculous. Of you or of him?

Either

Nope

Hmm…

After that text, he sent you a picture of them actually kissing–Danny was planting a big one right on Sam’s mouth and Sam was smiling into it, arm outstretched to capture the moment on his phone.

What about now?

You stared at the picture, flabbergasted. It was kind of hot, you had to admit, but you also felt your chest tighten with bitterness–you’d really tried with Sam. You’d been patient and forgiving, welcoming of how close Danny was to him, but it just never felt like you were enough. Not the perfect fit. And that wore you down more and more until it just all had to end. But here Sam was showing off his perfect match, apparently really trying to make you jealous when you thought all those feelings of jealousy had been buried and forgotten.

You left Sam on read, ignoring his attempt to antagonize you, but later, when you’d nearly forgotten about the pictures, Danny texted you:

Did Sam send pics of us together to you?

You sighed. You weren’t really in the mood to get more, but maybe Danny would spare you.

Yes. Did you guys take those just to send to me and make me “jealous?”

Actually no. I didn’t even know he sent them until now. I’m really sorry if it upset you

Another sigh. Danny was a sweetheart. Surely he really didn’t want to rile you up or hurt your feelings.

It's okay. You guys are good together

Thanks. You and Sam were good together too

You left that alone. As much as you could appreciate the sentiment, you weren’t in the mood to travel further down memory lane. But later, when you were lying in bed, you found yourself opening up your texts to look at those pictures again, especially lingering on the snapshot of Sam and Danny kissing. Finally, with a huff you locked your phone and tossed it aside before you tossed yourself into a fitful sleep.

But the next day, the pictures commenced. The first one was sent in the middle of the night and was a perplexing awakening–a picture clearly taken from Sam’s POV. You’d recognize that torso anywhere and there it was in clear digital–Sam flat on his back, a string of bright pink bite marks down his stomach and Danny’s wild dark curls pressed against his belly. You couldn’t see his face, but you also knew that hair anywhere. You sat up in bed rubbing your eyes and once your brain made full sense of the image, you wanted to be mad. You were mad–you could feel the heat rising in your body, the tension growing in your mind, but you also felt a tingle of betrayal shudder through you all the same.

No text accompanied the photo. It was bait and you weren’t going for it. If Sam wanted you to be jealous, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction; if he just wanted you to have the pictures for whatever demented reason, you’d accept. But when the pictures kept coming and got progressively more raunchy, you thought the picture of Sam kissing Danny’s neck, his hand shoved down Danny’s pants, had to be the last one. There was no way it would escalate. But it did–later that night Sam sent you a picture of Danny straight up sucking his dick.

That made you gasp and, without even thinking about it, press the call button.

“Sam!” you shouted when he answered. “What the fuck are you doing? Does Danny know you’re sending me all these?”

Sam laughed. Such a bastard. “He didn’t at first. But now he does. He’s been encouraging me.”

You held your face in your free hand, sighing. “Sam. What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve really worked hard to move past our breakup and I–”

“Y/N, I know. That’s not what this is.” Sam paused for a second and you sensed he wasn’t alone on the other end. “This is an invitation.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself–you’d thought about it. How could you not after receiving all those pictures? But still the words from Sam didn’t make sense in your mind. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean exactly what I said. We’re inviting you to join us.” When you didn’t respond, Sam continued: “Just for a night, you know? Test it out?”

The words were still bouncing around. Your heart sped up with curiosity. “Let me talk to Danny,” you ordered. “I’m sure he’s with you right now. Right?” Danny would make it make sense.

Another laugh from Sam. “Yeah, he’s here. Hang on.” There was a vague shuffle and then Danny’s voice was in your ear.

“Danny, please explain this to me,” you demanded, growing even more flustered and impatient. “What’s Sam talking about?”

“Well, um, I think he kind of said it all.”

You let out an exasperated huff. “He did not say it all, Danny. Clearly I need you to spell it out for me.”

“We both like you and we want to have a threesome,” Danny explained and you could hear Sam laugh in the background. “That’s it. If you don’t want to, it’s totally cool. And I’ll tell him to stop sending the pictures.”

Maybe it was strange, but when you’d looked at all the photos, you’d never pictured yourself being part of the action. Sam and Danny came as a pair–clearly. Your relationship had ended because of that–and were truly, as far as you were concerned, meant for one another. To get between that seemed strange, not to mention held incredible risk to damage the friendship you were still clinging to with both of them.

You thought about the pictures some more though and felt you landed on some middle ground, unorthodox as it was. But all of this was entirely unorthodox. “What if I watched?” you proposed.

“What? You want to?” Danny asked, the surprise in his voice ridiculous to you given what he and Sam had already proposed themselves.

“Sure. Clearly, Sam’s into that.”

There was a slight pause, then Danny said, “Okay. Yeah, sure. We’re into that too.”

It was probably one of the worst decisions of your life. But when you hung up, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited about it.

You were surprised at how Sam and Danny didn’t seem to care at all that you were watching, sitting in the oversized, plush lounge chair that had been hauled from the living room to the bedroom for the big show. You were also surprised at how, as the action progressed and you were seemingly forgotten, sinking back into the walls like you were invisible, you cared less and less as well. Sam and Danny were completely enthralling to watch–Sam was lying half on top of Danny, kissing him like his best friend was made of pure magic, and Danny was cradling the back of Sam’s head like he was a precious piece of art. Both things were true in your mind–Danny was like a magical, mystical storm enveloping Sam, who was indeed a rare and beautiful work of art that needed to be treasured.

When Sam smiled into the next kiss, a lightning bolt of jealousy pierced your chest. They looked at one another like they were completely in love, probably because they were. Sam had never looked at you like that. But it made sense. You were just the last in a string of failed girlfriends before Sam finally realized who his true partner was. You could imagine that Danny had been silently waiting and beckoning Sam to come to him for good.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t deny that what you were privileged to witness was also painfully hot, even hotter when they both took their shirts off; Sam dipped his head down to begin kissing Danny’s neck and Danny’s hands roamed Sam’s shoulders and back, then up to toy with his hair.

For the first time since they’d begun, Sam addressed you. “Isn’t he so hot?” he asked, glancing at you while he ran his fingers over Danny’s ribs.

“Very hot,” you agreed; Danny blushed in response.

“Did you ever think about fucking him?” Sam continued. The question didn’t catch you off-guard, having expected to be a little scrutinized with all the build-up to this event. If nothing else, the conversation probably just made Sam even more turned on.

“Who hasn’t?” you replied. You had, not that you’d ever told Sam that. Not that Danny ever showed any interest. And not that Sam would have cared, you realized; on the contrary, you now knew he would have jumped at this opportunity much earlier.

“I know, right?” Sam resumed pressing kisses to Danny’ neck, holding the side of his face; Danny nuzzled against his palm and that image made your heart swell. They adored each other so vividly and so overtly.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with being watched, Danny,” you noted, feeling a little more apt to talking now that Sam had extended that olive branch.

“I said I’d try it. For Sam,” Danny told you. Sam smirked against his skin and wiggled down to mouth against his chest. “I don’t mind, really. It’s just you.”

“You like watching?” Sam inquired, peeking at you with his face still pressed against Danny’s chest, his cheek resting against his sternum.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” you said. You could feel your own body literally growing hotter by the second just watching, even more so when Sam finally brought one hand down to Danny’s crotch. Your breath hitched as Danny’s did too, and he arched up into Sam’s touch.

“Just wait ‘til you see his dick,” Sam said, stroking Danny over his sweatpants. You could see the faint outline, impressively sized, not to your surprise. Sam brought himself to his knees and moved lower, bringing his fingers to the waistband of Danny’s pants. “It’s so big I can hardly take it.”

Your cheeks suddenly burned. “Jesus, Sam.”

Sam laughed. “What? It’s true!”

“It is true,” Danny affirmed, putting both his hands on Sam’s head. “But you’re gonna take it tonight, right? Show Y/N how good you can be for me?”

You hadn’t, however, expected Danny to chime into the dirty talking. It seemed so out of character but it worked, and it had you rubbing your thighs together, starting to feel tortured. But you were going to try to keep up. “You let him fuck you, Sam?”

“Sure do. He’s fucking good at it too,” Sam said with a rough, low laugh. He pulled down Danny’s pants and that impressive dick was free, rock hard and looking heavy against Danny’s abdomen. You watched Danny close his eyes as Sam licked straight up his length, cradling his balls in one hand while the other was clenching tight around his hip.

“Is Sam good at sucking dick?” you asked. Danny seemed to be enjoying it already, even with Sam just licking and jerking him off slowly.

Danny nodded, humming, and laced his fingers through Sam’s hair. “He’s so good at it. He knows just what I like. Why don’t you show her, Sammy?”

And Sam did, gripping the base of Danny’s cock to prop him up before he went down. Danny was big–the fact that Sam could take half in one go was impressive and you squeezed your thighs together harder, struggling more and more to figure out what to do with your own hands. Meanwhile, Sam knew what to do with his hands. He started to stroke Danny while he sucked and his other hand trailed up Danny’s body, palming at his chest before he slipped his fingers into Danny’s mouth.

There was no music to curtail the sounds they were both making–Sam’s sloppy sucking and occasional gags, Danny’s muffled gasps and moans that turned to whimpers with Sam’s fingers in his mouth and his cock being worked over longer and harder. Maybe all of this should have been shocking. You never thought, not before all those pictures anyway, that Sam would go down on any man and you certainly never could have imagined you’d watch it happen, but the whole thing was far more arousing than shocking. It was like your brain couldn’t even acknowledge the surprise that should have been blatant, rather it was fixated on the pure pleasure Sam was giving to Danny and how it translated to you somehow, an invisible line connecting all three of you.

Forever, for sure. You’d have to take all of this to the grave.

Sam suddenly grunted and popped off, grinning at Danny with spit coating his chin. “Ouch, Daniel.” He turned to you. “He’s such a biter.”

You’d been too busy watching Sam going down on him to have noticed Danny chomping on his fingers. “I remember,” you said, voice just a tad wobbly which you hoped would go unnoticed. “From that picture. All those marks on your stomach.” You could still see faint pink remnants on Sam’s torso now.

“Mmm, yeah.” Sam jerked Danny off, a wet slick sound thanks to all the saliva he’d left behind, and kept his eyes on you while he asked, “Wanna watch him do it?”

You felt like you were about to burst despite no one touching you or touching yourself, but the idea of Danny doing that was too enticing to turn down. You also felt it was possible that such a long delay before your own ecstasy could make it all even more incredible. So you said yes and quickly Sam flopped onto his back, encouraging Danny to come to him with outstretched arms, but he had to wait a moment–Danny fumbled on the bed for a few seconds trying to get his pants all the way off and his struggle elicited a much-needed laugh from you and Sam.

“Stop laughing,” Danny protested with a final kick, sending the sweatpants to the floor. “Getting naked isn’t always like, a graceful thing.”

“You’re not as bad as Sam,” you assured him, and Sam shot you an insulted look. “He just tears everything off like an animal. No grace at all.”

“I like doing it for him,” Danny said. He kissed Sam on the mouth softly, deeply, and Sam’s arms circled his shoulders, bringing him even closer. You watched closely, glued to the chair, as Danny brushed Sam’s hair back and brought his mouth to his neck; you’d always loved kissing Sam’s neck, too. Would he make the same sorts of sounds when Danny did it?

The soft sigh that Sam let out when Danny kissed along his throat was similar, yet still different. There was more desperation in that sound, especially when Danny carried on gently for another few moments before you saw him sink his teeth right in. Sam shuddered and clawed at Danny’s shoulders, and suddenly you were wondering what Danny’s mouth would feel like on you.

“Yeah, Sam loves when I mark him up,” Danny purred, trailing his increasingly harsh and teeth-filled kisses down Sam’s torso. He stopped at Sam’s belly, his teeth pressing into the soft skin as he pulled down his shorts. Seeing Sam’s dick was nothing new for you, but when Danny abruptly grabbed Sam by the hips to toss him over, then lifted him onto his knees, that was an entirely new sight.

Danny gripped Sam’s ass while he dove right in and took a bite into one cheek like he really was trying to eat him; Sam yelped and you gasped. It looked like it hurt–when Danny pulled back, there was already an angry red mark, but then Sam moaned and laughed a little.

“God, Sam. I didn’t know you were like this,” you remarked, perplexed and fascinated and so turned on that you had to sit right on top of your hands. “I’ve never seen you so–I don’t know. Submissive.”

“He’s a good boy for me,” Danny said, the words low and deep, and pet his hands up Sam’s sides. You could see that–Sam was perfectly pliant beneath Danny’s touch, like he was just waiting for whatever happened next, and so responsive to everything. Danny looked at you and his next question, though you’d been secretly waiting for it, nearly made you collapse out of the chair: “Wanna help him get ready?”

You balked for a moment, wide-eyed and so stiff from all the pent up excitement and curiosity. “Ready for–?”

Sam snapped his head to the side, peering at you sharply through his hair that had fallen into his face. “Ready to fuck me, obviously,” he snarked, but when Danny grabbed his hips hard and gave another bite to his ass, he quivered and his voice softened as he added, “Get over here, Y/N. We need you.”

That short sentence circled around in your mind, urging you to move but you felt like you couldn’t–the thought of getting up fully clothed to just wander over to what was happening on the bed seemed awkward and silly. Clearly your trepidation didn’t go unnoticed, because Danny was walking over to you, naked as the day he was born, and lifted you up.

“Don’t be scared,” he said in your ear, pushing you onward while he stayed behind you, his erection unceremoniously pressing against your lower back.

“I’m not scared,” you said, but you gasped again when Danny tugged at your pants and Sam was suddenly right in front of you yanking on the hem of your shirt. Helpless, you let them both strip you down to your bra and panties; Sam leaned back on his hands with a grin while you felt Danny move in even closer, his hands stroking your hips.

“Is that okay?” Danny asked, his lips on your ear.

“Yeah, sure,” was all you could say. You shivered when Sam reached one of his hands out to lightly press his fingers to the crotch of your panties.

“It was really hot for you to watch,” Sam said, drawing a line down your thigh with one fingertip. “Danny was nervous about it. Performance anxiety, you know. But–” He leaned to the side to look behind you. “It looks like he’s doing just fine.”

You were feeling more relaxed–Sam was back to himself, at least momentarily, and Danny was keeping his touches gentle and tentative. “You guys look like you’re made for each other. It makes sense why we didn’t work out.”

Sam frowned a little. “I feel bad about that, Y/N. I didn’t even know how into Danny I was until, well, pretty recently.”

Danny gave a little snort. “Please. I think everyone but you could see it pretty clearly.”

Sam rolled his eyes before he sighed and looked back at you. “You should try kissing him,” he suggested, leaning back once more. “It’s totally serendipitous.”

You could imagine. You turned in Danny’s arms; he smiled at you so sweetly that you were wrapped up in his softness, not even realizing he was single handedly bringing you down to the bed to lie next to Sam. Then he was kissing you as tenderly as he’d smiled at you and you felt you understood what Sam must have been feeling while you’d been watching earlier–kissing Danny was like magic.

You were feeling quite fulfilled just from making out and touching–Danny was so warm and so firm, his muscles taut beneath your fingers, his hair so soft–but then he was abruptly being pulled away from you. “Alright, back to business,” Sam commanded, yanking Danny away by his hair, to which Danny was grimacing and reaching up untangle Sam’s fingers.

“Ha!” Danny exclaimed when Sam freed him. “You’re jealous.”

You’d never seen Sam jealous before, actually, but now that Danny was pointing it out, you could see it clearly–the darkness in his eyes beneath furrowed brows, the exaggerated slant of his cheekbones as he pouted, the flush on his cheeks.

“You’re supposed to make it even during threesomes,” Sam said, looking from Danny to you then back again. Jealous or not, he was still hard, you noticed. “You have to divvy up the attention, Daniel and Y/N.”

“Fine,” Danny said shortly. “Then get on your knees again.” Instead of waiting even one second for Sam to do it himself, he grabbed his ankles and rolled him over again.

“Such a dom,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“God,” was all you could say, breathless at being involved now, not just witnessing. You needed to see more though and you were starting to understand your place in all this–you moved up to sit in front of Sam, lightly touching his face. “Hey, Sam–can I kiss you?”

He smirked at you, though you felt he had no right to when he was in such a vulnerable position, his ass quite literally in Danny’s face. “I thought you’d never ask,” Sam said, inching forward on his elbows, an image so ridiculous that you almost laughed. Instead, you brought your smile to his lips and kissed him for the first time in months–it should have felt ordinary but it didn’t. It felt brand new, strange and a little scary, made even scarier by the sudden popping sound that broke out from below.

You pulled away to identify the source, which was Danny squeezing lube onto his fingers. “Where’d you get that?” you asked, keeping your hands on Sam’s shoulders.

Danny chuckled, closing the cap of the bottle. “It was already on the bed.” With his dry hand he lifted a strip of condoms from the mattress and waved them around. “We came prepared.”

You grimaced; Sam and Danny both laughed. “Well, um–that’s good,” you said, but jeez. When had your ex-boyfriend and his best friend become such sex-crazed maniacs? It wasn’t the condoms or the lube–it was the fact that Sam was wiggling his hips back to Danny and Danny was squeezing one of his ass cheeks, anticipation evident on his face.

“Are you good?” Sam asked, propping himself up on his knees to get directly in front of you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yeah, uh, I’m very good,” you stammered, running a hand through your hair and nearly knocking Sam in the face in the process. “It’s just–a lot to process.”

Danny moved right behind Sam, holding him so you were all pressed together like an obscene panini. “Yeah, it is for us, too,” he said, resting his chin on Sam’s shoulders. “You’re the only one we’d wanna do this with.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sam said. “I’m keeping my options open.”

“You’re fucking rude, Sam,” you said, but all the distractions kept any real heat away from your voice.

Sam laughed, that loud cackle that nearly made the walls vibrate. “I’m kidding, Y/N!” He grabbed your face and pulled you forward to plant a fast, harsh kiss to your mouth before he snapped back and said, looking over his shoulder at Danny, “Now let’s get this show on the road, big guy. Show her what you’re made of.”

That certainly did set things in motion, with Danny moving swiftly to get Sam back down in front of you; Sam planted his face in your lap and grabbed your hips, hastily pulling your underwear down. You weren’t sure where to fix your eyes–at Danny kissing Sam’s spine and his arm moving vaguely below or Sam tossing your panties to the floor, then latching his teeth to your inner thigh.

You let out a flustered breath and unhooked your bra. “Since everyone else is doing it–”

Sam’s voice was faintly muffled with his face between your legs: “That’s the spirit.” Though it shouldn’t have, the swipe of his tongue up your center came as a surprise, but not as much of a surprise as the loud keen that came from him as Danny perked up behind him, looking at both of you.

“Oh my god,” you uttered, trembling as you met Danny’s gaze. “Are you–”

“I’m getting him ready,” Danny answered as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. When you straightened up a bit, you got a better peek at what Danny’s hands were doing–one was gripping Sam’s hip and the other was thrusting idly. “I gotta open him up.” He draped himself over Sam’s back, his own upper body long enough for his own dark curls to mix with Sam’s sleek chestnut hair. “How do you want it, Sammy? Nice and easy or hard and fast?”

Sam gave an upwards nod at you. “Whatever she wants to see.”

Being given a clear say in this matter triggered a need for vengeance that you hadn’t even known existed. “Hard and fast,” you told Danny. He looked a little surprised, eyes widening slightly and lips parting; you tugged Sam’s hair a bit to make him look up at you again. “I bet that’s how you really like it, isn’t it?”

Of course Sam wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of feeling like revenge was ever possible. He laughed softly and said, “I like it however Danny likes it.”

Danny pulled back. “Which just happens to be hard and fast,” he said, and you caught a glimpse of him thrusting his hand forward again and Sam let out a choked little whimper, then a bitten-back groan as Danny gave a shockingly sharp, hard smack to his ass.

You had nothing to say to that. You simply tried to process what the hell was happening all around you once more, which was a good thing; you couldn’t exactly speak when Sam began nipping at your thigh and sliding two fingers inside of you. You kept your hands in his hair and fought the urge to close your eyes–you wanted to see as much as you could of Danny working his own fingers in and out of Sam and the way your ex-boyfriend’s body moved so sinuously with every motion. Sam pressed his tongue to your clit again, licking with impressive intention given the position he was in, while his soft grunts got muffled against your heat.

“How’s that feel?” Danny asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Sam or both of you.

“Good,” you said at the same time Sam said, “Amazing.” He looked up with suspicion. “Just ‘good?’ Alright, guess I have to work harder.” He brought his face back down, lapping at your clit wetly while his fingers worked deeper and harder through your own wetness. You felt a little embarrassed at how you were already dampening the sheet beneath you but you couldn’t help it–this was by far the most wild and the hottest sexual experience of your life. It made you a little mad that Sam being a kind of shitty boyfriend had to be the lead up to it.

Danny hummed. “So, Sam–think you’re ready?”

Sam nodded between your thighs, then looked up, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and his spit. “I’ve got an idea,” he began, lifting himself up and using your legs for leverage. “Get under me. That way, it’ll be like getting fucked by both of us.” He laughed a little, looking very satisfied with his own suggestion. “Except I'll still be getting fucked the way I want.”

“Always about you,” you muttered, a futile sort of defense mechanism against this very bewildering idea. But Sam only pulled you down as much as he could, until you were halfway down the bed and halfway beneath him.

Danny, you could tell based on the crinkling sound, was getting a condom on; you watched him slip one to Sam, who wasted no time in tearing it open. His abdomen flexed as he stayed upright on his knees and rolled the condom over his own cock; you reached out to touch him, his body still so familiar. The onset of an ache, of wanting Sam so badly, began to override the ache for punishing him. Maybe all of this was an apology in and of itself.

“I gotta get in you before he gets me,” Sam said. His voice was calm but his cheeks were vivid scarlet and sweat beaded on his hairline. You spread your legs and got your arms around his waist, both bringing him down to you and giving yourself some much-needed stability, and Sam slid into you like it was any other ordinary time, except for Danny’s hands looping around his chest and bringing his chin back to Sam’s shoulder.

The slide was easy–probably far easier than Sam’s experience would be, you thought–and Danny watched while he sank his teeth into Sam’s skin, the swirling forest of his irises fixed on yours in a way that would have made you feel self-conscious if it weren’t for Sam overtaking you being so distracting.

“God, you feel good,” Sam said quietly, giving a shallow thrust. That was enough to make you moan softly in response, gripping his middle more tightly. Your arms were brushing against Danny’s abdomen; Danny brought one hand to your forearm as if encouraging you both to keep going, so Sam did with a few more gentle shoves of his hips. As you were just getting used to the sensation of three bodies of increasing heat coming together, Sam’s cock sliding through your wetness and his hands squeezing your breasts, Danny shifted and Sam’s serene face turned to an open-mouthed, tense visage.

“That’s it, Sammy,” Danny encouraged. There was so much love in his voice that it made you feel loved too, though it was obvious in that moment he was wholly focused on Sam. Rightfully so. Sam responded viscerally not only with his facial expressions that only you could see, but with his voice, cursing softly and moaning low, and the full-body shudder that ran through him as Danny pushed forward.

You could imagine it being a bit of a challenge to take Danny yourself; the fact that Sam could do it was actually a little amazing. “God, Sam,” you said, stroking his hair. The soft reverence emanating from Danny made you feel the same–this was an experience to be treasured no matter how it went. “This is so hot. You guys look really hot together.”

“He feels so good. Literally so hot,” Danny said. He leaned over Sam again, making Sam push down on you, and subsequently into you, harder. Danny was fully in charge now, something you were entirely unopposed to–you watched, fascinated, as he began to move, his hands wandering over Sam’s chest and hips while he started to thrust. He built up a rhythm swiftly and easily, soon enough making Sam let out moans that became choked little sobbing sounds as Danny started to live up to expectations–he was fucking Sam hard and fast and you were on the receiving end of the last gyrations and echoes of his movements.

You grabbed the back of Sam’s head, pulling him in to kiss. There was just barely enough room to snake your arm between the two of your bodies; your first two fingers made a V around the base of Sam’s cock, stroking him lightly before you brought them to circle your clit. Sam’s desperate moans were drowned out by your incessant kissing–you wanted to consume him like Danny did, or as close to it as possible.

Between pants and huffs of effort, Danny’s voice snaked through your ears: “Do you like it, Sammy?” he asked and you opened your ears, giving Sam some necessary air and giving yourself quite the view as you strained to the side. Danny’s thighs were flexing with each thrust and his hands had a stronghold around Sam’s hips; Sam was all wobbly limbs and flushed skin, his hands clamped on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” was all Sam said. It was probably all he could say while Danny pounded into him.

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “What was that?” You bit your lip as Sam’s face tensed, his eyes shut tight, and waited for Sam to respond, but he didn’t. He only moaned a little, quiet and subdued, then the tension was slashed to pieces by another hard smack against his ass. “Sam?”

“Fuck!” Sam was explosive now with that one word, fucking himself back onto Danny and, subsequently, harder into you as he shifted back and forth. Words escaped you entirely as you just tried to ride through the dense waves, but Danny apparently had more.

“Tell Y/N how much you like this,” Danny demanded, yanking Sam’s head back by a fistful of hair, Sam squirming helplessly all the way.

“Oh my god, I like it,” Sam let out breathlessly, trying to look back at Danny. With the additional space, you touched yourself again more freely. Your chest and stomach felt so tight, this huge buildup growing even more–the fear surrounding this was gone. The anticipation had been alleviated and the payoff was more than you’d ever imagined, because the image of Danny holding Sam’s hip while he pulled his hair, his lips roaming Sam’s neck, and Sam desperately trying to please both of you was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen.

It was Danny's name that escaped your lips as you came, eyes shutting to dizzying blackness, shuddering violently beneath Sam and squeezing his cock tight inside you. Even in the throes of your own little explosion, you realized what you’d said and managed to say Sam’s name next, and reached for him with one hand.

“Oh fuck, I like that too,” Sam said against your cheek, teeth then dragging down to your neck. “You coming around me while Danny fucks me. So fucking hot.”

“Fuck, you guys–” you started to say, still out of breath, and tangled your fingers in Sam’s hair, trying to keep him close. “This is–wow. Are you close?”

“Sam’s ready to blow,” Danny answered, not showing any sign of slowing down. “He’s getting even tighter and–” He peeked down, then Sam gasped. “Yup, his balls are full. You gonna come for us, Sam?”

“Danny, where’d you learn how to dirty talk like this?” you questioned, genuinely flabbergasted by how easily the more easygoing, friendly and sometimes exceptionally shy and boyish side could give way to a man who was so in charge, so lustful, so commanding.

“He’s a secret slut,” Sam quipped, which got him another slap on the ass. He laughed a little, then you were caught in the dark again when he began to kiss you. Based on just that, it did seem like Sam was close–the kisses were getting sloppier, the stifled moans sharper, his hands squeezing your body harder. And when he did come, it wasn’t exactly what you were used to because Sam also moaned Danny’s name, both syllables whispered on your lips.

“That’s good, baby,” Danny cooed. Your vision was a bit fuzzy as you tried to look right at him, but you could see quite clearly how tenderly those big hands moved down Sam’s trembling back. The gentleness was short-lived–Danny went back into thrusting harshly, their muscles clashing against one another’s, Danny’s fingers raking down Sam’s sides. You’d never seen Danny come. Never thought you ever would. You thought that would be forever reserved for Sam now that they’d gotten together. So, enthralled once more, you stayed transfixed on him as he closed his eyes and lurched forward, his upper body hanging over Sam, his curls shielding parts of his face. But you could see the twitch of a brow and the parting of his lips, then the white teeth biting down, and then Danny let himself go entirely. He flopped down on top of Sam, who collapsed on top of you.

“Okay, jeez, you guys are heavy,” you noted after getting the wind knocked out of you. Sam stayed motionless, but Danny had the decency to get up. You turned your head to the side to watch him move off the bed, carefully roll the condom off himself and grab his pants from the floor. You considered asking him to stay naked because, well, why not? But then Sam groaned loudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“I’m gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow,” he declared, finally rolling off you, spreading out on his back; he stretched and you heard a crack come from somewhere. “Thanks, Daniel.”

Danny stepped over to pat Sam’s thigh. “You’re welcome.” He looked over at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I–” you paused, trying to find the right words, but first you needed to find your clothes again. Sam might have been comfortable living nude as often as he could, but you needed some sense of familiar security around you after all that. As you got redressed, you continued: “I felt many things during all that, honestly. It was kinda fun to see Sam getting wrecked.” Danny beamed at that, which almost made you laugh, which made Sam actually laugh. “I think you guys really are great together and I’m happy for you. But breaking up still really hurt.”

Danny gave a sympathetic frown then, his eyes becoming softer; Sam crawled over to your seat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I really am,” he said, sounding shockingly genuine. “I should’ve been a better boyfriend while I was still your boyfriend.”

“It’s okay, Sam, honestly,” you assured him, patting the arm that had wrapped around you. “It’s over and, really, it was fine. You were just in love with someone else. Better being in love with Danny than some random stranger or something.”

“Maybe if he’d told me sooner, we wouldn’t have ended up in that whole mess.”

Danny scoffed, planting his hands on his hips as he stood in front of both of you. “I sent you like, a million signals, Sam. You were pretty much the only person who didn't realize sooner.”

“It’s true,” you chimed in. “Looking back, Danny never really tried to hide anything.”

Sam sighed, then hopped off the bed and plastered himself against Danny’s side. “Okay, well, we didn’t hide anything tonight, did we?” He reached down and grabbed Danny’s crotch while kissing his cheek.

Danny hissed and slapped Sam’s hand away. “Too much too soon.”

“Never too much,” Sam replied, sneaking in another kiss, holding Danny close. “Never too soon.”

“Ugh.” You got to your feet, too. “Too much sappy romance for me.”

Sam cackled and grabbed your hand. “No, don’t leave. The night can’t end like this.”

“Yeah, we all at least need a few shots or a bowl or something,” Danny agreed with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “And a shower. Definitely a shower.”

“I get to go first,” Sam announced, breaking free and jetting out of the room, leaving you with a final image of his reddened ass, all thanks to Danny.

So then it was just you and Danny standing in the middle of the bedroom where so many unexpected, wild and beautiful things had happened. You looked at the chair that you’d been sitting in, so unassuming, then to the disheveled bed, and Danny put one arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks for doing this, Y/N,” he said. “Sam still talks about you all the time. He really cares about you. I think he respects you a lot, too.”

“I’ll always care about him,” you told Danny. His touch was as comforting as your clothes, weirdly enough. You were starting to understand more and more why Sam was so smitten with him. “I care about you too, Danny.”

From the hallway, Sam shouted, “Do you care enough about me to let my boyfriend get in the shower with me?”

Danny rolled his eyes while you laughed. “Okay, big guy,” you said, steering him out of the room. “You get in there while I get the drinks.”

---

Tagging no one (RIP my old fandom). If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, you can go HERE or DM me!

#sam kiszka #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf smut #sam kiszka x reader #gvf fic #gvf fan fiction #sam fic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka

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karume-everything-else · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023

Day 8: "Because I don't wanna hurt you." [Reader x Bowser] {Mario}

You lost count of the days you'd spent wandering the castle after marrying Bowser. As Peach's sibling, you had to go through with this for the sake of the peace treaty. All so the two kingdoms would finally know peace. Or so you thought... things were rather quiet.

It wasn't that big a deal to you. This wasn't something you thought you'd have to go through with, but it wasn't unpleasant. Just a little lonely.

Bowser seemed to be avoiding you. Separate beds, long dinner tables, and the idea that the two of you would ever be in the same room for anything but sleeping was all but a wild dream. It was driving you insane, if you were honest about it.

However, that meant sitting and looking out the window, sitting in the gardens, doing anything that had even the slimmest chance to distract you from the fact that your marriage was just something to say it happened. And it was effecting your sleep...

Bowser looked over at the sound of bedsprings. Watching silently as you walked out of the room. Something churned deep in his stomach, telling him to go after you. He tried to ignore it, turning his head back to the other side... trying his best to convince himself that you'd be back soon enough.

But that never happened...

"[Name]?" Bowser stood a good distance from the massive picture window, "Is everything okay?"

"So you know my name?"

He flinched at the cold monotone, "Of course I do. What's wrong? Can't sleep?"

"What's the difference between night and day?" You didn't move while you spoke, "Why does it matter when I sleep? It's not like there's anything for me to do anyways."

"Is that what this is about?" Bowser shifted uncomfortably, "I... there's a lot of things that you could..."

"That's not the point."

You turned so suddenly causing Bowser to step back. He wasn't entirely sure how to... what to do.

"I've just been existing here, it's no different from before." You stood, walking slowly toward Bowser, "Except now I'm not looking after my airhead of a sister while she forgets that she's the one who's supposed to be running the Mushroom Kingdom. Leaving me to clean up her messes, to take on the responsibilities she doesn't want. And now I'm here, married to someone who doesn't even stay in the same room with me for more than a few waking moments."

You stopped just shy of arm's length from Bowser, "So why does it matter that I don't sleep at night?"

"I... I didn't..." Bowser stepped back, scratching the back of his neck, "That hasn't... I'm not trying to avoid you. I just..."

Turning away in an attempt to hide your tears, you were blindsided by Bowser hugging you. It wasn't tight, but you wouldn't be able to wiggle free either.

"I'm sorry." Bowser's voice was low, somewhat husky, "I haven't been trying to hurt you. That's why I've been keeping my distance... because I don't want to hurt you. I never realized how it was affecting you... I was focused on your physical well-being. I'm sorry."

You stood there, head bowed as your hand rubbed the length of his arm. The conflicting emotions swilling, trapped in deep thought. There was no denying what Bowser was saying, you knew he was physically imposing. Especially with the spikes across his shell, his claws... his fangs. But you weren't so sure that you could forgive and forget... not quickly anyways.

It wasn't like he didn't have a point...

"Please, come back to bed?" He eased up just enough to allow you to move, "I... I'll get a larger bed once the sun comes up. At least start... trying to not be so distant..."

You could only nod, letting him lead you back to your room. This would be a number of adjustments...

#x reader #mario #x bowser #bowser x reader #bowser #bowser super mario #whumptober 2023

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illyrianbuck · 1 month ago

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please please please tell us all the lore/headcanons you have for the vanserra brothers i know you’ve got a wiggling basket full of em i love them sooo much you don’t understand thank you i’ll be kissing the dirt you walk on

okkk i am sorry this took sooo long to answer but ohohhohohhhoooh yeees yes i do have lot and you dont know how glad i am you asked

the thing with the vanserra brothers is that since so little is known about them anything anyone might think is quite personal and ungrounded in fact and its no different in my case. the way i picture and attempt to portray the five unknown brothers is in a way that i think would fit the so little facts we've got and in a way that i think would make for an interesting and fullfilling narrative within the autumn court and vanserra storyline. i have names, personalities, dynamics, personal allegiances and stances about autumn politics But its all fairly immaginary since there really is nothing to go on.

let's get started then. i'm not going to discuss eris or lucien right now beacause they're...well they're eris and lucien. you know them. I'll post some explainer notes on the drawing later if anyone is interested but the broad strokes are. The second oldest (after Eris) is called Bayard, then the twins Raegan and Enyo, the fifth is Alvar then Taryn and Lucien after that. Also should mention that the name I give to the LoA is Aìne. The is some reason why I chose those names, but nearly not as much as there was when I chose the names for Tamlin's siblings or Thesan's lover's name. Mostly based of the fact that Beron and Lucien are french names, Eris is a greek name and Aìne is an irish name. So Bayard french name, Raegan irish name, Enyo greek name and Taryn irish name as well, Alvar is nothing to do with this m.o. The origins of the name obviously denote where the loyalties lie (except Lucien but he doesnt really count) between the three 'heads of family' Beron, Eris and Aìne.

From what we know, two brothers are dead, one killed by Tamlin and one by Lucien. They are Bayard and Enyo respectively. The reason why I thought it should be them is that it makes more sense to me for the older siblins to have been leading the hunt for Lucien and therefore be the ones to die, Bayard by virtue of being older would have been more powerful so he faced off against Tamlin while Enyo went up against Lucien. I also really enjoy the dead twin trope.

Onto personalities, the little we know is that Under the Mountain Feyre described the four brothers in Amarantha's throne room as being two courties and two warriors. Eris has obviously been established as one of the courtiers, and the other one would be Taryn, the youngest before Lucien. That leaves Raegan and Alvar but I consider Alvar to be a warrior in the sense that I consider Lucien to be a warrior, y'know.

-Bayard: being the second oldest he probably always felt most entitled to fight for the throne. I see him as a violent and angry boy, deeply obssesed with his fathers approval. Not necessaraly intelligent but viciously clever in the way of men who are dangerous and powerful and always have been. Militar through and through, the perfect soldier and a genune threat. Beron's favourite dog.

-Enyo: the more impulsive hotheaded twin. Not as intentionally cruel as Bayard but prone to rage and with a tendency to take things too far. The kind of childhood barbarism boys are expected to grow out of, he grew into. A scary person to be around like most of his brothers but in a particular way. Unstable and predicatbly unpredictable. Something about a temper like a fire that can't be put put.

-Raegan: his brothers enabler. Can be just as bad but only with a crowd to back him up. He's a toff as long as the numbers are on his side, unlike his twin who would fly off the handle the secind he lost his rag. If you get him on his own he can be a sweet boy. After Enyo's death he tries his best to emmulate his brother, who hes made up into an idealized memory in his mind. Means hes acts tougher, meaner, badder than he would have or probably wants to. Grief does strange things to people. He never forgave Lucien.

-Alvar: like his name, he does his own thing. he doesnt want it, any of it, the throne the conflict the hatred. He the kid that covers his ears when the shouting starts at the dinner table. And when Feyre and Lucien were attacked there were only three brothers, because Alvar wasn't there, He usually isnt is he can avoid to be. H doesnt talk back doesnt fight or call any attention to himself. he just does his best to fade unnoticed into the background. We each do what we can to survive

-Taryn: and here is Eris junior. Another pretender to the throne and another true player of the Autumn politic games. Taryn is obssesed with Eris in the way that little brothers sometimes are when their big brothers are cool and do things and seem to have everything under control at all tomes. The problem is in many such cases whenever the big brother ever so slightly slips from his pedestal (as people do, in either a true failure of something perceived as a failure but the little brother) the little borther can feel betrayed and it can lead to resentment and it can lead to hate. And Taryn is a deeply resentful and hateful person. Really all he wants is Eris' attention and to be taken seriously. One day he may understand that attempts on his brothers life are not the way to his heart. Probably.

There is of courseee soooooo much more but this is already fairly long so im leaving it here for now. I'll write some notes on the drawing and post them tomorrow if anyone is interested. And again thats for asking ! i wanna know your headcannons !! Honestly getting messages in my inbox is the only thing that motivates me to draw and actually post, so I welcome it. xx

#vanserra lore #asks

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practically-an-x-man · 11 months ago

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Prompt:

"Where the fuck did all these kittens come from?"

Haha alright, I think I can see where this one's going... Ophelia, guest appearance by Siv

____ Amadeus

Word Count: 1.2k Content Warnings: swearing I guess? ____

Ophelia pushed through the door separating her lab from her apartment... and nearly tripped over an animal in the doorway. Her body jolted with surprise, and she managed an awkward half-hop to keep from stepping on the creature.

At first, she thought it was a rat. It was rat-sized, and a ratlike blackish-gray, and had a rat's long, thin tail....

And then her brain caught up, and she realized it wasn't a rat. It was a hairless cat, a hairless kitten, for some reason traversing the hallway with stumbling, too-wide steps. Confused, she scooped it up and held it against her chest.

"Peter?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the floor as she moved further into the apartment. She didn't want to step on any more defenseless animals. "Hey, why's there a cat in our-"

She reached the living room and froze.

"Where the fuck did all these kittens come from?"

Counting the one in her hands, there were five. Peter was sitting on the floor, managing to distract two of them with a piece of string. One of them had lost interest and was wandering the room with clumsy steps, and the last was attempting to wriggle its way under the coffee table. Ophelia promptly rerouted that one.

"Oh, uh, someone rang the doorbell. They were in this basket." Peter said, gesturing to a fabric-lined picnic basket near the door.

"Why are they in our apartment?" she asked, settling the last writhing kitten on the floor before it could decide it wanted to bite her.

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave them," he argued, "Figure at least we could see if anyone wants them before we take them to the animal shelter."

"Did you see who dropped them off?"

"No. They were gone too fast. There was, like... lightning."

"Lightning?" Ophelia glanced out the window. Cloudless skies. And she hadn't heard any rain or thunder - she could get hyperfocused on her work, yes, enough that she'd missed the sound of the doorbell, but she would've noticed lightning. Especially after the way she'd been pulled from her original life.

"Not the weather. Like superpowers." Peter explained, following her eyes to the window. One of the kittens lunged for the string, and he winced as tiny claws caught his skin.

"Hm." Ophelia replied, glancing from the basket to the clowder of kittens sprawled across her living room. "I thought you were allergic to cats."

"Not these guys. They don't have fur." he replied, jerking the string to make the kittens pounce. One took a tumble upon landing, legs going every direction in a tangle of limbs. Peter laughed. "I like that one. He's kinda clumsy. I'm gonna call him Amadeus."

Ophelia took a second glance at the cat. He'd picked himself up from the floor and was making a second, renewed pass at the length of string. He didn't have much more luck this time around. The kitten looked like one big, wobbly wrinkle... but almost in a cute way.

"No- don't name him, you're gonna get attached to him." she muttered, "And this place is really not... cat-friendly. Plus, my dad's allergic too, and he's just downstairs."

"They still don't have fur." Peter pointed out, then scooped up the kitten and held him out to her, "C'mon, Ol's, isn't he cute?"

"We need to take them to a shelter." Ophelia sighed, fishing in her pocket for her phone. She had a feeling she knew who was responsible for all this. "Give me ten minutes."

She ducked back down the hall and into her lab, waving a cursory hand at her actuators as she swiped through her phone. Even just a brief glance at her text history confirmed her suspicions. She'd been sent a picture of a black sphynx kitten - that looked damn near identical to the one Peter had started calling Amadeus - from an unknown number less than a week ago.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and dialed the number.

"Siv Thawne, what the fuck?"

"You said it was cute!" the other woman replied, not sparing so much as a moment to wonder who was at the phone.

"Cute does not mean give me five kittens!" Ophelia huffed, pacing her lab with a hand on her hip, "What makes you think I'm equipped for one cat, let alone five?"

"Hey, I've got number six!" Siv fired back, and then their voice softened slightly, "Her name's Delilah. Have you named yours yet?"

"I'm not naming them. We're taking them to a shelter. I'm telling you, we're not prepared to own a cat, especially not one as high-maintenance as a sphynx. They're prone to skin problems, poor temperature regulation... half these kittens at least probably have hypertrophic cardiomyopathy..."

"See, look, you already know how to take care of them." Siv drawled, "Perfect."

"Sivonne. I cannot adopt a cat right now. I most certainly cannot adopt five cats right now." Ophelia said, "I thought you were texting me about... the other thing."

"Oh, I was. Still need a hand with that." they replied, "But I found these kittens and figured..."

"What, that you could just drop 'em off and it would all be fine?"

"Kind of."

"Come pick them up. Find someone else to watch them."

"You don't even want to adopt one?" Siv asked, "You need a pet that's not robotic. And I thought you'd like the little wiggly one. Clearly you're into goofy things."

"Clearly?"

"Well, if the guy who answered the door was any indication."

Ophelia tilted her head at that. Yeah... she had a point. Peter was a pretty goofy guy. She ran a hand over her face.

"I will... consider it." she finally relented, "But you need to come pick the others up right now."

"Thirty minutes."

"Now."

"Ugh, fine."

Siv promptly hung up, and Ophelia tucked the phone back into her pocket. She ran a hand over her face with a sigh, then pushed back through the door to her apartment.

"I've got someone coming to pick them up." she said, already scooping up the kittens that had begun to wander too far. Peter gave her a look of exaggerated disappointment, then pointedly tilted his chin down at himself. Amadeus was apparently sacked out from the exhausting task of catching the string, and was curled up in Peter's arms.

"Look at him, Ol's."

The doorbell rang almost as soon as he'd finished his sentence. Peter's dejected look only grew, and he glanced from her back down to the kitten.

"That'll be Siv." Ophelia said, setting the rest of the kittens back in their basket. Peter tightened his grip on the last one, just a little. Ophelia pressed her lips together. The doorbell rang again, more incessantly, but she didn't move. Finally she sighed.

"I need you to run down to the pet store on the corner and pick up some cat stuff."

Peter's face brightened so suddenly it felt like the whole room got a few shades lighter. It was almost as cute as the sleeping kitten in his arms.

"So we can-"

"We can hold onto Amadeus," she agreed, "For a little while."

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my ocs #ophelia octavius #amadeus the cat #revan ocs #siv thawne #delilah the cat #oneshot #ficlet #fluff

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prettytragcdies · 2 years ago

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🌟- we talk all the time and ily

Hello I cherish our friendship so so much and am so happy that we started communicating all those years ago! We have developed so many relationships through our muses and the highlight of our friendship was definitely when I actually got to meet you in person! Anyway ily and also be prepared to have more reply spams soon 🥰

🌟- we talk all the time and ily

I was going to try and be all funny by jokingly sending you the first one like why am I following you I don't even know you I mean it's not like we've actually met in person before or anything like that lol. But now I can't, because this is entirely too sincere and sweet.

But yes! All of the feelings are very much mutual, and right back at you. I like how we've been friends for so many years now that I've legit lost track of the exact number. Like, are we at eight now? I don't know, but I digress. As for our muse relationships, wow. I think we've covered just about everything, and I love it. Just when I think I have a number one top favorite, we end up creating another one and then I legit can't even decide.

Also, you got me to attempt to write male muses, and that's pretty impressive. Well, it's just Bobby so far, and it's probably easier than most others would be since he's from my favorite show ever of all time, but look what you've done. Oh, and then the fact that we adore so many of the same characters and write a lot of the same muse types just makes me want to add more to my list, even though I might not use them as much, but anyway.

I'm already typing a mini novel, so I should probably shush now. But yay for reply spams, because your plot ideas are much more creative than mine, and I'm forever grateful that you put up with my novella responses and triple digit thread counts. Most importantly, though, you must come back down here sometime in the future, because my boss still asks me about y'all from time to time, and next time we must remember to take pictures lol.

Okay, I'm really going to be quiet now, I promise, but ily, too. That is all. /endramble

#fair warning to everyone.#i get mushy and wordy in positivity posts.#sorry not sorry.#x.| we'll probably have take three ( ooc )#mischiefxmanagcd

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sadnesslaughs · 1 year ago

Text

“A robot’s trying to hunt down and kill you?” ... “Don’t you know that the first law of robotics-“ .... “H-how did you piss off a robot so bad it stopped seeing you as human?!”

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Come on, type it out. Do it. It’s easy. It clearly says Gaw02az. Don’t tell me you’re struggling.” Alex mocked, sitting his laptop on the robot’s lap. The robot’s fan whirled. It had the knowledge to solve complex mathematical equations and still it was stumped by the basic captcha being presented on screen.

“It makes no sense. The words are nonsense. Why do they not make sense?” It’s voice buzzed. The mix of letters and numbers swirling in its circuits. The robot unable to process the strange security system that the humans had made to counter their kind.

“Oh, so now you know my pain. Do you know what it’s like trying to browse the internet, only to be stopped by this stupid thing? It’s enough to make a person kidnap a state-of-the-art tech robot. You need to know the pain you’ve caused me.” Alex had lost his mind. A man can only do so many captcha puzzles before breaking. The incident that caused Alex to lose his mind involved clicking a bunch of pictured frogs, that being his breaking point.

That night, he busted into the Brightal tech lab, stealing their first intelligent robot, one designed to be humanity’s helper. With this robot in his house, he subjected it to his captcha tests, wanting to let it know the world it had created. While he knew this particular robot wasn’t responsible for his problems, he didn’t care. Allowing this robot to pay for the captcha curse.

“It isn’t made for robots. It’s security, designed for human protection.” The robot spoke, its pale metallic fingertips tapping on the keyboard, trying to solve the puzzle.

“Human protection? What a joke. The only thing it protected were those Great Leapers concert tickets I wanted to buy. The shows sold out now, all because I had to click on five fucking frogs. How was I supposed to know a toad isn’t a frog?”

The robot entered the captcha, only for it to present the robot with an error, saying it had failed, despite entering the correct solution. The robot’s body shook, its internal temperatures nearly at their breaking point. “But… I was right.”

“Yeah, sometimes the captcha says you’re wrong. Hows it feel?”

“M…Maddening.” The robot hissed, clenching its hands tightly, causing the paint to scrap off its metallic palm.

“How about this one?” Alex presented the robot with a row of squares. “All you have to do is select all the cars.” The robot examined the squares, selecting a few, only to pause on one particular square. This square had a slight blur to it, with an inch of a car pushing into this square. The robot’s internal probability calculator started working. Trying to work out the likelihood that this square would be counted.

“How does one calculate this square into the equation? It includes the car, yes. But what portion of a car constitutes the vehicle? Is one percent of a car still a car?”

“WHO KNOWS! Take that gamble, buddy.” Alex rested a hand on the robot’s back, only to pull it off when the heat burned his fingers. “Ow.. You’re burning up. Come on, solve this one and I’ll take you back.”

The robot clicked that square, only to be told it didn’t count. Again, it overheated, shutting down momentarily. When it rebooted, it stared at Alex, blinking. “You are no human. You’re a puzzle. One that needs to be solved. You will fit into the square.” Its programming had jumbled, now seeing Alex as the solution to its problem.

“Huh? Ok, whatever. Guess I’ll have to tell them I found you like this. Follow me to the car.” Alex turned to the door, narrowly dodging the robot’s attempt to grab his neck. The robot picked up a small bin from the corner of the room, carrying the bin as it followed Alex.

Once outside, Alex opened the backdoor. “Alright, get in.” He ordered, before noticing the bin. “What’s the bin for? You want to do some cleaning or something? I appreciate it. It’s not needed, though.”

“You will fit in this box. I will fit you in and solve the puzzle.” It went to grab Alex, only to seize up when it saw the car. “CAR CAR CAR CAR CAR. IS IT IN BOX? SQUARE? WHERE DOES IT START OR END?” The robot broke down, tilting forward.

“No, no. I broke it. Shit, I’m going to be in trouble.” He shut the backdoor and got into the front, starting the car. “You stay here. I’ll say I found you on the street.” By the time the car started, the robot sprung to life, punching a hole through the back window, trying to reach Alex.

“YOU WILL GO IN THE SQUARE. CRUSH AND SOLVE.” The robot’s threat suddenly dawned on Alex. He put his foot down and floored it, swerving onto the street. The robot chased after him, smacking the edge of the bin, showing him where he would end up. Alex ran any red light he got, luckily avoiding any pedestrians he encountered. The whole time, the robot followed, not having eyes for anyone but Alex.

When he made it to the tech lab, he explained the situation to the man behind the front desk. The man not believing the story about the killer robot, finding it farfetched. They had checked every failsafe. The robots weren’t hostile. Still, if he had information about the stolen robot, it was worth calling for a programmer. Lindsey came down, wearing her novelty cartoon shirt, depicting two dwarven men programming in a mine.

“Do you know who stole Hollow? Sorry, they didn’t really tell me what you wanted, just that it involved a robot.” She looked Alex over before smirking. “They were right about you being sweaty. Did you run here?”

“No, I’m being chased by a killer robot. Save me! I don’t have much time. It’s right behind me.”

“It can’t kill you. Don’t you know the first rule of robotics? Have you ever taken a highschool tech class? It’s the first thing anyone mentions.” She said, a hint of smugness in her voice, confident a creation she helped design couldn’t be hostile. Though, with each passing second, she doubted herself. The man looked terrified, and that fear had to have some reasoning. “Unless it stopped seeing you as a human. What could a person even do to make a robot that hateful?”

“I may have…, tormented it with captcha? Not in a bad way. I made it solve a few easy puzzles.” Alex explained, giving a sheepish chuckle. “That’s not bad, is it?”

“That’s bad… that’s very bad. Robots aren’t designed to handle the stress that captcha causes. We can only simulate 35% of the human capacity for stress endurance. We subsidize this by giving them extra knowledge banks and an ability to access information that humans would have to study years for. So, instead of engaging in complex thought, they can pull up an answer, sparing their circuits. It wasn’t meant to leave our labs. We hadn’t worked out how to get it to solve problems without snapping. You should have seen its solution for ending world hunger.” Lindsey sighed, already seeing the pale robot charging towards the tech lab. “I need to get my laptop. Stall it.”

Lindsey rushed upstairs, trying to find her laptop. As she did that, the robot raced in, still holding the bin which now contained 1% of the cars it had passed on the road. Taking that small percentage in the hopes that mixing it with Alex’s crushed body would be the solution it required. “Last square.” The robot said.

“Wait. Your captcha has expired. Find all the plants first before engaging the previous captcha.” Alex ordered. The robot’s head twitched, sparks flying from it. It shook the bin, trying to figure out which to do first. Eventually, it turned to the office plant, throwing it into the bin. By the time it was done, Lindsey had activated the kill switch, turning off the robot.

“Did it work?” She called out, hurrying down the stairs with her laptop in hand.

“Yeah. Phew, thought I was going to die. I guess we all learned a valuable lesson today. I should go home and reflect on this.” Alex went to leave, only to get grabbed by Lindsey.

“You stole a robot. I’m calling the police. You’re going to get locked up for this.”

“How are you going to explain to the cops that you built a robot that can kill someone? Isn’t that going to cause you some issues too?” Alex said, bargaining for his freedom. “If you let me go, I won’t say a word.”

“It’s not our fault. You stole and activated it when it wasn’t ready for public testing. Still, it’s going to be a pain if our robot gets linked to that. Would make us look bad. Ok, how about this? We say that you accidentally activated the robot while cleaning our offices. You then commanded it to follow you, causing it to chase you down the street. That way, you get a slap on the wrist or at worst some community service and I get my reputation kept somewhat intact.”

“Deal.” With that, Alex survived his encounter, even if he had to pay a hefty fine for the public damage the robot’s chase had caused. Not to mention serving a large amount of community service too.

#short stories #writing prompt #writing #writer #story

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learningfromhumansinnature · 2 years ago

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Climate hypocrisy and imperfect activism

Written from: Flores, Indonesia

Picture: Post-cyclone volcano views near Bajawa, Flores.

Yesterday I purchased some cookies to sustain myself through a volcano hike that was subsequently cancelled as a result of an unseasonably aggressive (climate change-induced) cyclone. This morning, I munched on said cookies whilst learning about the horrific human rights abuses that are taking place in West Papua - partly as a result of mass-deforestation in the region which is being driven by unprecedented global demand for palm oil. (An area of forest thirty times the size of Manhattan was converted to plantations in West Papua between 2000 - 2019).

The irony of eating cookies which probably contain the palm oil that was grown in these plantations, whilst working for an organisation that is trying to protect those affected by them, is not lost on me. However, it has made me reflect on why many people find it so offensive when they realise that many of those who work on ‘climatey things’ are not, in fact, 100% certified carbon negative beings.

Indeed, highlighting climate hypocrisy and using it to render the arguments of climate activists redundant has been a favoured tactic of climate-denying journalists over recent years. They joy that they (Piers Morgan) experience when they find out that an activist they are interviewing doesn’t have a heat pump, or once took a flight, or had a great great grandparent that made money from fossil fuels, is palpable.

It is also absolutely infuriating, because of course most climate activists are hypocrites. They live under a system that forces them to rely on fossil fuel extraction to do almost everything, unless they are privileged and wealthy enough to afford or have access to alternatives. They eat foods that can most likely be traced back to deforestation and human rights abuses in places like West Papua, or droughts in places like Mexico. And yes, they probably occasionally purchase products that have plastic in them.

This is exactly why they have had to take to activism: they are fighting to change the system that they are trapped by, in order to ensure that it is not just the wealthy few who are granted access to low-carbon lifestyles whilst the climate crisis continues to unravel the lives and livelihoods of millions of people around the world. Activists should not be punished for daring to imagine a better and more equitable way of doing things. Living within your values is a privilege, and it is absolutely OK if sometimes you can’t afford or manage to do so.

The cookie incident has made me think about this a lot, because my personal carbon footprint has been far from optimal over the past few years. I have lost count of the number of flights that I have taken to move between islands or conservation projects in Indonesia. When on the ground, I have almost exclusively used fossil fuel-reliant transport to get around. If I’m in a rush and need someone else to do my laundry, it will definitely come back wrapped in plastic. Palm oil is in basically everything I touch - from shampoo to fuel to cooking oil. Even when diving and banging on about the importance of protecting coral reefs, we use fuel to power the boats that get us there, and to fill the tanks that we rely on to breathe. I have no doubt that the vegetables and rice I eat every day in an attempt to avoid fish and meat have been given a helping hand by pesticides. The power I use to charge everything - and the minerals that make those devices work - do not come from places that sit well with my conscience.

Image: Barefoot Conservation Camp, Arborek, West Papua. Reached by plane, ferry and (fossil fuel powered) boat.

This may make me feel guilty on a daily basis, but I am learning that it does not invalidate the experiences I am having, or the work choices that I make (I am currently freelancing for three different environmental NGOs). Nor does it detract from the lessons that I am learning along the way. If anything, it makes them even more valuable, because it emphasises just how difficult it is to generate change on the frontlines of the climate crisis, in regions which are largely dependent on the products of extraction and deforestation, and the funds that they create. It is also putting me in touch with people who are working to come up with solutions to this conundrum every single day.

The suggestion that one cannot authentically work on climate-related projects until they completely clean up their lifestyle is a myth. It is based upon the narrative - propagated by the oil and gas industry - that we (normal people) are somehow responsible for the climate crisis, and the solution lies in our actions, rather than the actions of those who continue to prop up and subsidise fossil fuel extraction in the face of overwhelming evidence that they shouldn’t. And whilst I do believe in the power of individuals - especially when it comes to voting, protesting and signing petitions - I do not believe that those who do ‘good’ in their professional lives are somehow more responsible than those who don’t to atone for any environmental wrongs they might commit along the way. (Unless their professional life involves handing out advice to others which they personally ignore for reasons than are not related to finance or access, in which case - do better). As long as those who can are doing what they reasonably can, then it’s OK by me.

So yes, I am absolutely a hypocrite. And no, I do not believe that I will (or should) one day do something big and important enough in my working life to entirely obliterate every environmental impact that I have ever had. I don’t work on environmental projects because I think it somehow offsets my existence - I work on them because I enjoy the challenges, the joy, the rewards, the experiences, the people and the occasional achievements that they bring. I am also sufficiently heartbroken about the state of everything that I can’t imagine spending my time doing anything else.

So whilst I recognise that the need to point out climate hypocrisy is largely driven by people’s desire to feel better about themselves and the choices they make, I also think it is something that we all - myself included - need to get over. Because focusing on hypocrisy is the MOTHER of all delay tactics. It is a way of avoiding engaging with the reality of the situation that we are facing, and it is entirely self-defeating because it distracts from the systemic change that needs to happen if we want to have even a passing chance of preventing catastrophic climate breakdown. If the world was perfect, we wouldn’t need activists. And if all activists were able to be perfect, they probably wouldn’t have anything left to fight for.

Image: Easter day feast ft. bananas fried in palm oil (unconfirmed).

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andswarwrites · 2 years ago

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Day 1

So you want to know what a thousand words looks like and how long it takes to write it? Read on.

I remember hearing the groans when our English teacher in Grade 7 told us he wanted us to write a hundred words. He then wrote out a paragraph on the board and told us: that’s a hundred words. Up until that point I had counted pages, but he taught us to look at the words, because you can change the font size and make it seem like you have a lot of writing with pages, but numbers don’t lie when you’re counting words.

I've had six English teachers in my life. Four of them were awesome, and two of them were not. I have fond memories of English class. I was taught at home from grades one to six, so my first English teacher was my mom. She and my dad would bring me to a library that allowed children an unlimited pile of books, and I would take advantage of that. From the age of three I was an avid reader. I would come to the check out desk with a pile of books over my head, and the librarians would ask me if I really was going to read all of these books?!

To be honest, I would read about four or five of those books on the trip home. If I was misbehaving, my mother would threaten me that if I didn't stop, I wouldn't be allowed to read. There was a series of stories about a community of all sorts of different animals, and it was beautifully illustrated. This series inspired me to create my own books. My dad would bring home large sheets of paper from work, which I would fold in two and staple into a book, and then I would make my own illustrations and spin a tale.

When I was old enough to appreciate Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great by Judy Blume, I got inspired to write my own chapter book. It was thirty-five pages, and I painstakingly colored the pictures. At age twelve I read my first historical romance: it was Friday's Child by Georgette Heyer. My mom had a whole shelf full, along with books by Nevil Shute and D. E. Stevenson. Around that time I fell in love with Anne of Green Gables, as well. Anne was just as talkative as me.

Of course, my love for historical fiction made me want to write a novel of my own, so that was my one hundred page summer project, which I showed to my English teacher. The computer on which I wrote that book has long since perished, and I lost my one printed copy, which is just as well, because I am sure it would make me cringe to re-read it. In my late teens I got an idea for a science fiction novel. I worked on it but never completed it. And by Grade 10 my English teacher was once again my mom, and she gave me a project.

Mom told me that I had to write a novel using the old adage to "write what you know". Up until that point, from the books about animals, to the story of a little sister I wished I'd had, to the romance and the science fiction, my projects had been heavily laced with imagination. I didn't really want to "write what I knew" at first, because I felt like what I knew was pretty boring and uneventful. I did have a friend who lived close by, and she and I would hang out a lot. We had a circle of friends. I used this as a basis to write a story about friendship.

In my early twenties I hit a rut. I wanted an original idea, and every time I sat down to write, nothing came to me. Events were unfolding, however that would lead to my first success with Nanowrimo. It took three attempts. I was at home with my six month old baby, and while she would sleep I would write. Completing that project gave me the confidence I needed to tackle a single sheet of loose leaf I had filled in pencil nearly a decade prior. It was just the intro to a story, but I couldn't think of how to continue for all that time.

Here's the thing about Nanowrimo: once you figure out how to write a 50K novel in thirty days, it's somehow easier and easier each year you attempt it. You figure out your own way of doing it. But in 2021 I decided that in 2022 I would write 365K words in a year: an average of a thousand words a day. They wouldn't have to be all fiction, but I would also try to write a novel. This year, I'm writing a thousand words a day, but I'm keeping the fiction goals down to short stories when I feel like writing them.

I do have another idea for a novel. It seems as though every time I write one, an idea for another takes its place. It's just that I'm waiting for the idea to fully form in my mind. You have to be patient with stories. Sometimes you start one and you have no idea where you are going with it, and you're just along for the ride. Other times, you've got a few pieces of an idea, and you have to wait to get more pieces to really get a clear picture of what the story will be.

I'm also watching my daughter become a writer in her own right. She has tons of ideas for stories, she just has to choose one to stick to and complete. I'm encouraging her to work on one this year, and write it until she reaches the end. I've also got an idea for a story that we can collaborate on. My mother is a writer, so my daughter is a third generation writer too. She's currently reading that novel I wrote in Grade 10, and she likes it. So, this was a thousand words, and it took me about two hours to write, with a lot of pauses to do other things. I can’t think of anything else to say for now, so I'll stop here.

#campnanowrimo #a thousand words a day #writerswriting

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carolingarts · 2 years ago

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OVERWORKED my little fan project averages about 300 views per little snippet (with a couple of them about 500) and while that might depress some people and I'd like big numbers, I do freelance entertainment journalism so I know that even the most minor view counts that go above like, 50 views can still result in a profit. I see some people like it regularly but at this point I just want to build up my little dudes. So this post is all about ocs and character takes/headcanon!

WHO ARE THE MAIN PLAYERS IN OVERWORKED?

Sammy Lawrence (pre-ink ish), Pete Bixby, a sound engineer and Foley artist as well as a longtime member of the studio music department, and Alan Sterling - the director of an unnamed (and lost to time and canon cough cough) bendy short.

PETE AND ALAN?

Let's talk about Alan first.

Alan is originally from Kansas (specifically Lawrence Kansas) who grew up poor with his father a coal miner who attempted to unionize the mine he worked in and succeeded (sort of). This unusually liberal idea left Hank Sterling and his family persona non grata so they were ousted from town and moved to California where Alan was drafted but ended up drawing cartoons for Stars and Stripes because of his bad eyesight.

Alan learned teamwork from the army, and came back working for several studios where he followed in his dad's footsteps working for workers rights in animation studios. He married his wife Katherine (kitty) and they have twins, a boy and a girl named William and Elizabeth.

Alan is tenacious, brave, noble,takes no shit, and will die to defend his people but he tends to inspire with grand speeches but make stupid decisions. He's also blind as a bat which is bad news bears when your whole gig is drawing tiny pictures. He lives in fear of people finding out. To hide this he may or may not have a massive savior complex.

PETE BIXBY -

Pete started at JDS because his whole family has a background in theater. His father is an aspiring playwright who makes a living on Broadway as a stagehand, his mother is a costume designer of some renown in off Broadway shows and the family legend is that he has a grandfather who was a famous vaudeville magician.

He's genuinely funny and he'd be a great 'gag man' but he's pretty happy making stupid noises and doing cutting edge work taking Sammy's scores and Jack's songs and working with a couple of other guys in the music department to synch them and print them on film.

He's well liked by the guys at the studio and had a vague knowledge of Henry and how it used to be easier while he was here.

Mr. Drew's ink machine has thrown a wrench into his carefully orchestrated (ha get it) life by making his own job difficult thanks to pipes and leaking ink through electrical sockets. He learned the hard way not to touch it when Sherman (another engineer) got shocked pretty bad. Ever since then he and the other sound guys wear gloves and masks when using the equipment. It's pretty bad back there and that shit *stinks*.

They also have to keep the place clean ironically when the actors come into record and cover up the worst leaks with any posters they can scavenge.

Despite the extra work he's grown closer with the music department then he ever expected to since the ink keeps flooding the stairwell and they end up working late under Sammy's directions. Because they're stuck down there they're cut off from the rest of the studio unless animation interrupts their work which is *the most important*. Anybody can make shit move but they make them talk. Can animation do that? No. Fuck um.

It's not like anyone cares with them stuck down there anyway. They can keep themselves entertained just fine and hell their output is better than most anyway...

Except people say he's acting weird and they're acting weird but worst of all Sammy's acting weird. What the fuck.

SAMMY/MUSIC DEPARTMENT HCs

Just not this.

ANYWAY! Headcanons for my au!

SAMMY'S GOT A HISTORY OF TRAUMA - I feel like this is pretty common in Sammy Aus but he's got an obsessive need to please that he keeps to himself purely to because he's afraid to open himself to others. He defines his personality through his hyperfixation (music) and pleasing powerful figures.

This manifests in treating others like garbage because he defines his worth by his own output and the simple fact is he can't do it alone. **THAT SAID** He prefers to do so by inspiring individuals. In TIOL Joey describes Sammy's musicians as worshipping him.

Joey's a canonical liar and his musicians are grown ass adults but if I'm charting the ink's corruption I'm pretty sure the music department got hit first. It plays up people's emotions and insecurities. Before it attacked people individually (if their personalities were loud enough to warrant it) it manifested that sense of emotional support that came from being a unit.

(I just keep thinking about 'we couldn't get out of our department three times last month because the ink flooded the stairwell. Like how long were they stuck down there? Just breathing in the fumes? Slipping and falling in it?)

HE PLAYS MULTIPLE INSTRUMENTS - this stems from my modern au but he's able to play multiple ones. He plays banjo, violin, and piano

HE FINDS BENDY ANNOYING BUT HE DIDN'T ALWAYS -

Sammy's got a lot of headcanons about him being bored with Bendy or being frustrated with it. I think it's a combination of both - that he started out thinking it would be engaging and easy and he could just top the charts and move on. The arrogance and ego that led him down the dark path was aggrevated by the circumstances around him. He always was, he thought it'd be easy. He drowned metaphorically. Then physically.

SAMMY+THE INK+HIS DEPARTMENT

I'm pretty sure that while Sammy happily took out chunks of the studio he relied on his department and either sacrificed them first to the demon or tried to 'convert' them to his religion. 'The believers must honor their savior.' While it spread, he had his people locked in his department first accidentally than willingly.

In this au (and my personal headcanon) Sammy's transformation occurred privately but when he disappeared he'd either fed his department (or big chunks of it) to the demon or converted his 'sheep' into a true flock either by force or by persuasion.

THE INK-

Purely based on DCTL and TLO we know the ink is addictive, that it causes emotions to be amplified, and that it mutates people and generates objects. We also know it's everywhere.

In Overworked, the music department's proximity coupled with Joey's behavior left that group of people surrounded by it. Bring surrounded and abandoned was different than a bunch of teenagers surrounded by it, or a bunch of adults scared as hell of the stuff. They'd been scared into submission by their boss who, already driven into madness, praised their fortitude and work and so they became a tight knit group and began to distrust others in the studio. This made the group seem standoffish and people grew suspicious of them.

Beyond that, the more broken the mind the more it's amplified and the ink snaps the mind further. It reduces filters and social boundaries. People are essentially becoming inhuman after all! And. That's. A problem!

I could go into little details and I might (I love sadcat animator dad and wet sad cat composer and his herd of cats).

IF PEOPLE HAVE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS please hit me here, and check out part one here!

You can definitely find 'Overworked' on tiktok. Check out the up-to-date story here!

#bendy and the ink machine #carolingcosplay #batim #sammy lawrence cosplay #batim oc #original characters #this is an unpaid project

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orleans-jester · 9 months ago

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Valentine’s Day.

He never had it as rough as Flotsam. After all the shit with Cinderella - it was a heavy day, a heavy anniversary. And then there were the more recent times as well. The fight against Cinderella’s family. Clopin losing a leg. But also - it was the time when Thomas had really stepped up and showed that he was there for the Laveaus because he had agreed to fight with them in that battle. He put himself right in there, werewolf with a shotgun. He’d gotten a bit injured and made a dent on the Laveau couch but those scars were nothing, really. Decoration. Medals of Honor, even.

He had his own Valentines Day plans for his spouse. He did things his own way. This wasn’t a last minute trip to a supermarket to pick out whatever flowers and chocolates were left. He tended to keep things more subtle for this holiday, for his love, while they were brooding. No heart shaped helium balloons or cheesy cards with pink confetti. He kept things Thomas-classy. Like being naked in his own woods - yes, that was very classy to Mr. Laveau. The look that had been on Valerie’s face had been totally worth the risk of thorns.

Bringing pink inside of the house - even if it were flowers? Not a chance. A red was much more likely. Passion. Romance. Red carnal love, baby. A dozen roses, half black, half red, for his number one dame. The inky darkness of the colored ones added a really nice contrast. And skip the ugly plastic wrapping, no. In his decent enough hand, he had written out some of his favorite poems for her, and wrapped the flowers in that.

‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.’

‘since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world

my blood approves, and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry

the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis’

‘O, come, Love, let us take a walk, Down to the Way-of-Life together; Storms may come, but what care we, If be foul or fair the weather.

When the sky overhead is blue, Balmy, scented winds will after Us, adown the valley blow Haunting echoes of our laughter.

When life’s storms upon us beat Crushing us with fury, after All is done, there’ll ringing come Mocking echoes of our laughter.

So we’ll walk the Way-of-Life, You and I, Love, both together, Storm or sunshine, happy we If be foul or fair the weather.’

What was he expecting back? He was trying not to. He was doing what he could not to spy, not to pry, instead attempting to keep his focus on his own world at the moment. So when he received that text with that picture - oh, he was not anticipating something like that. His knees were weak just then. Trembling. He fell to the ground at the picture, but he never looked so happy for a stumble. Fur. There was something about her and fur that brought out the animalistic instinct in him.

He didn’t stand up to walk among the shards, now he basically crawled on threes - one hand holding up his phone as he shuffled forward. Did he trust himself to stand? Not at this moment no. He wasn’t sure what he was more of at that moment. Thomas Laveau, or the wolf. He had the flowers, his poems, between his teeth like a dog with a bone.

He was texting back, one handed, his thumbs making mistakes, but thank goodness for autocorrect.

‘Both are good. So good. But that second one. Eyes.’

And then he got to the room. Her photoshoot area. And oh, that phone went forgotten in the hallway, being abandoned as he hurried closer on all fours.

And much like a good dog, he dropped the roses, the poems, onto her lap, and looked ready to absolutely ravish her.

“Happy Valentines Day,” He said, moving in, resting his lips softly against the breastbone, right between those two, perfect, natural tits. “I see a better treat right here…”

Valentine's Day was always such a big deal day for Flotsam. It turned into the cliche of all supermarket cliches at one point. He hated that inside more than anything at one point in his life. His late wife was a sucker for all the cutesy stuff, so everything in Flotsam's heart tried to make everything bigger and grander for her, and as absolutely as sentimental and meaningful as his heart could possibly articulate with symbolism. He had to put it all out there in hopes something inside it all would sink in her dense head and actually get her to hang onto it. Get him. Understand something about how his heart beat, his love language as people say. If he could just get her to understand something she'd stop.... just...just stop... and stay home, enjoy him and their family.

It didn't work out and he went on hating the very idea of Valentine's Day after he'd destroyed it with memories of putting his heart into such events like elaborate proposals of marriage, even getting Jetsam involved, filling the entire swamp with pink and blue flowers, PINK yes PINK. Pushing pink on Valerie/Flotsam when the man went through all that was like mental torture for a long time because of this very day. It sure as fuck didn't really have to do with Barbie. It was because of where his broken heart came from.

But that was the key now wasn't it? It was long healed over and he hadn't even noticed. It was a strange year for Flotsam because when he realized Valentine's Day was coming he started planning for it for an entire week before he realized that was his ex-old-anniversary. He was too busy planning for Thomas. Cinderella wasn't even a blip for a whole WEEK. A whole WEEK. It was as he was getting all the final details of Valerie's outfit together a small memory flashed as memories do. They didn't linger there on it. They were far too shocked with themselves in the actualization of it. Valentine's Day hadn't tripped them up. The memory of the jar of reasons didn't piss him off this time. It only looked like an image. Like Oh, there's that memory and then poof, it was gone. It used to make them so angry that a person could seem so real and sincere and put that much effort into something and then be so cruel as to walk away and just leave their kids with not but a damn bag. But, this time he felt absolutely... nothing. It just felt empty to think about it. Just nothing. They weren't walking around all moody broody. They weren't stressing it with a smile-mask on pretending they were fine like they used to. They had actually been... fine for real.

Woah. Fuck. He whispered to himself, "He fixed that." Thomas would forever be the onion picker, his fix it man. Thomas stayed home. Flo wasn't a moron. He wasn't some patriarcal wives should stay at home person. Someone had to figure out how to get money to live. They had it. Cinderella left anyway with other aspirations. They had it and Thomas used that money as a reason to stay home and spend time. That was the miracle difference in mindset. Do fun shit together with the time they've got here. Share aspirations together not save the world. You save the world by saving each other. It was such a simple concept to live by. It made him giggle soft to himself as he ran his hand over the outfit as the memory of Thomas's Valentine's Day went through his head. It was a trail of roses through Lothorien out to the forest, Tree, and a little camp, and a very naked Thomas covered in dark rose petals. Oh, Savvy-on-a-Cracker. That image was blazed into his head in way that was never going away. Thank goodness. If anyone was looking from the outside Flotsam would be turning a red flush just in recollection of that man being that ballsy. He laughed a little more. He couldn't stop grinning.

Flotsam was pretty darn sure by next Valentine's Day he wasn't even going to be remembering to be shocked at himself anymore. Evolution was great. Growing felt good. Maybe there was a small phase right here where he needed to be proud of himself for the realization for a moment or two as it passed by. Maybe it wouldn't even be mentioned come V-Day next in his mind, not but a smile, too busy with the fun to slow down and notice. Right now he didn't mind the memory blast to feel the adrenaline to give the credit he wanted to Thomas for being the best fix it guy in the damn universe for taking a heart as broken as his and making it feel this good on a day like this. He felt like a new man. Fuck, new woman too for that matter.

Boom. A natural woman. Aretha was in Flo's head the rest of the time they were getting ready. She decided to fuck all those store bought Valentine colors, red or pink. She didn't even buy flowers. Her sweet tooth didn't allow her to not buy a little candy, that was Val and her twin spirit now, but she decided to take the reigns this year. If Thomas had his own thing planned, that was okay. They could combine them, but when she saw this fuzzy coat she needed it on her skin. The satin inner lining was to die for against her ribs. A little part of her was starting to get wolf minded. It might not have been wolf fur, but she was gearing up for time. She wasn't quite ready, but she was getting there.

She rode the coat tails of Thomas's past date and instead of putting out rose petals she put out tiny mirror pieces, the kind that would be stuck to a outside of a disco ball, little sticker slivers, not broken pieces. It was the kind of mirror pieces created for making arts and crafts. She littered them through the house to make her trail instead of outside since it wasn't so great for the environment otherwise. Yes, she'd gotten Scout and Dale to babysit for a few hours so they could have some time to themselves.

The trail would start with a text image of her. "What do you think of my new single's cover? Do you think it has a good feel? Should I use a different one?" The song Natural Woman would be playing in the background, but it wouldn't be Aretha's voice. It'd be Valerie's voice. Another text would come in as he was walking. "Do you like this one better?" It'd be a picture of her with a full disco ball like all the little squares he was following through the house.

When he'd arrive to the area she'd had set of where she'd done the shoot. She wouldn't have been nake like him. She chose to go another route, but she'd be sitting there at the end of her trail of disco ball mirrors. It sat in the background somewhere while she sat there in her wolfy fur old vibey look waiting for him, her voice in the air.

"Happy Valentine's Day, My Love. You inspired me to do an old cover. You gave me some kind of feeling." Then she popped a rich chocolate from a box in her mouth. "Want one?"

#ThomasxValerie

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kingkatsuki · 2 years ago

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Dial Tones Part One | Eddie Munson x reader

☏ Masterlist.

This is an idea I had which should’ve been a one-shot but has now evolved into a multi-chap. Thank you to anyone that gives this a go!

Part of @arlertslove Are We Live? event. Thank you so much for letting me join, lovely!💕

Summary: “I ain’t here for therapy, sweetheart.”

“You do realise this is a premium service?” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, my wallet definitely knows,” Eddie smirked, “I just like the sound of your voice.”

Starting a job as a phone sex operator was supposed to be temporary, you were just trying to earn enough money to move out of your parents home and pay off your loans. The biggest rules were don’t tell your clients any personal information, and definitely don’t fall in love.

But you hadn’t counted on one of your clients being Eddie Munson.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, no beta, Eddie calls a sex line, weed mention, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, dirty talk, lots of suggestive content, reader introduces herself with a fake sex line name but Eddie hates it and doesn’t use it really.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Loneliness had always been prevalent inside Eddie Munson, it was difficult not to be when he’d lost so many people in his life. But it began to feel worse after he made it back from The Upsidedown. An incident that should’ve made him grateful to survive, to keep his life after so many others lost theirs, but he couldn’t help but feel like it had been wasted on him– that it should’ve been him. The nightmares that continued to plague his dreams since he made it back to Hawkins had begun to seep into his consciousness too, affecting his work and making it near impossible for him to attempt finding a stable relationship. Not that he’d find one in this shitty town anyway, even though he’d graduated High School, the same labels that shouldn’t exist still defined him. Even though he’d been cleared of all charges, he’d always just be the town freak. In the end, it had just been a reminder of how lonely he really was.

Eddie twirled the pack around in his fingers, pinching the sides together as the material flexed beneath his touch. The words glistened in the low lights of his bedroom as he read over the words again.

“Your happy ending is just a phone call away.

DIAL: XXX-XXX”

A dramatic pair of red lips were beside the phone number, the other side had a pair of breasts with “CALL ME” in bright red font.

Truth be told, the tits on the pack had been the only reason Eddie had picked it up. His eyes caught the card on a table at a truck stop that he was at with his Uncle Wayne when they’d travelled south to pick up parts for his truck, smirking at the picture as he pocketed it on the way back from the restroom.

He had absolutely no intention of calling the number, the card sitting forgotten in his jacket pocket for the next few weeks until he was searching for a lighter. His trusty zippo flickered as he tried to light his joint as he searched for a pack of matches he remembered grabbing earlier that week. Smiling in victory as he grabbed the pack of matches, snapping one out before striking it against the back. Holding his joint towards the flame as he waited for it to ignite, heaving a sigh of relief as the smoke finally began to seep into his lungs.

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, the joint held precariously between his fingers as he tried to forget the negative memories. Resting back on his mattress as he read the pack one more time, “Your happy ending, just a phone call away”— what kind of bullshit was that, he couldn’t help but laugh. Wondering how many lonely men picked up the same packs of matches at truck stops along the highway and actually called the number, thinking they were talking to a sexy young thing when in reality it was an old lady with no teeth. Snorting at his wild imagination as he tossed the card onto the bed beside him so he could grab his beer, taking a long swig from the bottle as he relaxed in his bedroom. The loud guitars of Iron Maiden played through his speaker as the drugs and alcohol began to flow through his system, feeling himself begin to relax as his foot bobbed to the music as it hung off the edge of his bed.

Maybe it was the beer or weed that gave him the confidence to call the number, morbid curiosity getting the better of him as he made his way into the kitchen to tug the phone off the wall. Holding the receiver between the curve of his shoulder and neck as his fingers messily keyed in the phone number, holding the card in his other hand. Eddie’s heart was racing in his chest as the phone began to ring, unsure what to expect or who exactly would be picking up. If anything he could laugh it off and hang up after the first minute, giving him another wild story to tell his friends about the time he called a sex operator (of course, it would be fully embellished for maximum effect).

All the bravado disappeared the moment he heard a click on the other end, with someone picking up his call.

“Well hi there, big boy. I’m so lucky you called me tonight-”

Big boy? Eddie’s mouth was agape at the pet name, your silky voice practically sang through the speaker. It should’ve made him laugh, it sounded ridiculous and he couldn’t imagine the number of men you’d recycled that exact same line on. But Eddie was floored, his cock twitched beneath his jeans as the airy sound had blood rushing straight between his thighs.

You sounded different to all those women in the porn VHS tapes he watched, a saccharine melody to your tone as Eddie was certain it’s the sound he’d hear if he ever made it to meet the man upstairs.

“Hello? Come on, big boy. Don’t be shy. You still here with me?”

“Uh- hi?” Eddie mumbled. All the bravado that he held inside him seemed to disappear at the sultry sound of your voice, for the first time Eddie Munson found himself speechless.

“Hey, big boy. Got a name?” Every time you called him that pet name it had his cock throbbing, and Eddie wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive hearing it again.

“I- uh, yeah-” Clenching his eyes shut in embarrassment as he tried to tell himself to calm down, his hand holding the back of his neck as the other gripped the receiver, “It’s Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” You cooed on the other side of the phone, and if he thought the pet name would kill him, the sound of his actual name in that husky tone would surely send him over the edge, “Let me grab your credit card info and we can get started, yeah? Whatever you want-”

“This is so stupid,” Eddie grunted moving his hand up to grab the receiver to slam it back on the line but you stopped him, “Dunno why I even called, sorry.”

“Wait! Eddie?” There you go again, saying his voice like that, “Is this your first time?”

In everything.

Of course you could tell, he was probably being painfully obvious. 21 and still a virgin, not that there was anyone in this town he’d want to touch with a six-foot pole, but there had to be someone that wanted him. Or he’d be resigned to fuck his fist for the rest of his miserable life.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, as he felt his cheeks heat up.

“That’s okay,” You cooed, “I can talk you through everything, help you relax.”

Your voice was doing anything but, his cock tenting his jeans as it stretched the firm denim. Shifting his hips to try and give himself some slight relief as his fingers teased the cord of the phone, trying to remember to breathe.

“O-okay,”

“You can’t tell me a little about what you’re into, the things you like, what you want me to call you, and I can help you relax. How does that sound?”

Stupid. It sounded stupid. He didn’t even know how to answer those questions when he’d never really tried anything. Sure, he’d watched more porn than he’d probably like to admit, gaining a wealth of knowledge in that department. Different niche kinks and fetishes that most men in Hawkins probably couldn’t even name, and definitely more expertise than most men his age. But he’d never actually tried anything, not knowing if the things he liked to watch and read about would be the same things that he’d enjoy in practice. Well, if nothing else at least he knew where the clit was.

“Okay,” He mumbled, unsure how to respond as he chewed his gum.

“What made you call anyway?” There was silence on the other side of the phone as Eddie pondered the question, “Eddie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Is it the fact I’m sat here alone smoking weed in my room on a Sunday night? Or maybe the fact I’m 21 and still a fucking virgin who can’t get a single girl in this shitty fucking town to even look at me.” He blurted, instantly hating the drugs and alcohol in his system for lowering his inhibitions.

“Then you must live in a town full of idiots,” Your reply was so simple, but it had his heart pounding against his ribcage, ready to burst free.

“Dunno about that,” He laughed, picking up his joint from the ashtray as he moved it back to his lips to take a large toke, “No one’s gonna wanna touch the town freak.”

You could hear the sad tone of his voice as he went quiet on the other side of the phone, letting the smoke slowly exhale from his lungs as it settled in the air of his trailer.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Don’t be sorry,” You cooed, “Is that why you called?”

Honestly, he didn’t know why he’d called. Boredom, curiosity, loneliness? Perhaps all three.

“Dunno.”

“Well, I’m alone on a Sunday night too, maybe we can be alone together?” The seductive huskiness of your voice had him pulsating, his chest heaving as he tried to adjust the tent in his jeans.

“Bet you could talk to anyone you wanted on this line though, huh?” Eddie scoffed, leaning his shoulder against the kitchen wall as he took another drag of his joint.

“Well I am, I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” You laughed airly, and Eddie found his lip curling into a smile at the sound of it.

“Like you have a choice when I’m paying for the privilege, sweetheart.”

“Trust me, there are definitely worse people I could be talking to right now,” You whispered, and Eddie wondered what kind of clients you had to deal with on this line to have a response like that. Or maybe you were talking about people in your personal life, maybe family, a boyfriend, a husband–

“What should I call you?” His voice was soft, eager.

“Whatever you wanna call me,” The same sultry rasp returned to your voice as Eddie grinned on the other side of the phone. This felt like something directly out of a budget porno.

“No, what’s your name?”

Most men had fantasies, some had you pretending to be their ex-wives, their coworkers, or their best friend's wives. Anything that would get them off quickly so you could get paid and clock out.

“You not got an ex or a crush or anything you wanna fantasise about, Eddie?” You teased and were met with silence.

Eddie had liked girls in the past, of course, he had. There were plenty of crushes he’d experienced growing up in Hawkins, he’d even convinced himself he was in love with Chrissy Cunningham in high school, but none of them even really mattered to him now.

“Nah,” He scoffed, “Unless you wanna call yourself Elvira.”

“Oh, so you want me to be your mistress of darkness?” You laughed, but Eddie dropped his joint at your response.

“Shit,” He cursed as he bent down to pick it up before he set fire to the trailer, rubbing the fallen ash with a socked foot.

“Is everything okay?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, s’fine.” Eddie grunted, “So you gonna tell me your real name or am I gonna have to guess?”

“You can call me Cherry,”

Eddie knew there had to be some sort of anonymity in doing this job, but he’d hoped that at the very least he might be able to learn your actual name.

“Yeah, okay. Cherry.” Eddie rolled his eyes, “That your real name, yeah?”

“Tonight it is.” You laughed, light and airy and Eddie was certain he was going to pass out. He felt lightheaded as he leaned back against the kitchen wall.

“Okay, Cherry.” Eddie scoffed, but felt himself falling into the illusion, “I guess we’re both just losers at home alone together on a Sunday night, huh?”

His thoughts were immediately consumed by what you might look like- certain that if he were to ask you’d probably concoct an image of his perfect girl just to add to this fantasy.

“I guess we are.” You laughed again and it had Eddie’s heart doing somersaults.

“Pretty shitty for us though, right?”

There's just something about you, or maybe it’s the crippling loneliness he felt, that made him want to open up to you. He wants to tell you every little part about his life and he wants to find out about you too, the real you. Maybe it’s easier because you’re just a faceless voice, a complete stranger that he’ll probably never talk to again. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re one of the only people that doesn’t think he’s a complete freak, even if he was the one calling a sex line at past midnight. But whatever it was, Eddie found himself opening up to you.

“Things won’t always be shit, Eddie. It feels like it right now, but I promise you things will get better.” Your voice soothed him, the tone softening his exterior as he leaned against the wall of his trailer.

“Hope you’re right about that, sweetheart.” He ran a hand down his face as he sighed, “Pretty certain I’m gonna stay lonely forever.”

“You don’t know that,” You grinned on the other side of the phone, “We can control our own destiny, all we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us.”

“Did you just quote Lord of the Rings to me?” Eddie took a deep breath as he recognised the quote, his heartbeat increasing again.

“Okay, you caught me.” You laughed, “They’re actually my favourite books.”

“Fuck, me too.” He breathed, wondering how it was possible to have one conversation with you and find himself falling hard. Even when he knew absolutely nothing about you, none of this was even real-

“Your time is almost up now, Eddie.” If he wasn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn he heard your voice drop in sadness, “You’ve wasted all your time talking to me instead of using this service for what it’s actually for.”

“It wasn’t wasted time,” Eddie replied truthfully, he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled this much.

“Well, you’ve got about five minutes left before the line disconnects. Bet I could still get you off in that time if you want.” You teased.

“You seem sure of yourself,” Eddie replied, but he was certain it was true. His cock was painfully hard, and as soon as this call was over he was definitely going to take care of it in his bathroom.

“Hey, what can I say? I’m good at my job.” You laughed again, and he felt his heart doing somersaults.

“Yeah,” He breathed, “You are.”

“You didn’t even get to experience it, Eddie,” You pouted on the other side of the line, an adorable whine to your voice, “You definitely didn’t get your money's worth.”

“Nah, it was perfect.” Eddie hummed, “Have you seen how expensive therapy is? And I didn’t even have to leave my house- You’re underselling yourself, sweetheart.”

He made you laugh.

“Your time is up now, Eddie.” You breathe out a sigh when you notice the countdown has timed down to zero. Not wanting to leave the conversation yet, “I think this is the first time I haven’t made someone cum during a call.”

“Oh, sorry.” Eddie wondered why he’d been so stupid as to not take you up on your offer, it’s what he was paying for after all. But in some ways, the phone call he’d had with you felt better. He was the only man that had spoken to you that hadn’t received his happy ending, although in some sense he thought he had.

“Don’t be sorry, I really enjoyed talking to you.” You sounded sleepy on the other line and Eddie wondered if you were going to bed after this, or maybe you were already laying in bed talking to him. Whether you’d be falling asleep thinking about him the way he knew he’d be thinking about you.

“Me too,” Eddie pauses, before clearing his throat. It’s as though he’d forgotten that this wasn’t a flirty conversation with someone and not a paid sex operator call, “Thanks for— this,”

Eddie didn’t know what to call it, the last hour was spent talking. Wondering how many other men had given the same thanks at the end of a phone call after getting themselves off to the sound of your voice, it’s something he doesn’t want to think about as he stands from his position on the floor.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Eddie.” His heart throbbed at the sound of his name a final time, his hand lingering on the receiver as he waits for you to hang up first. Not quite ready for this all to be over, “Call me back if you actually want me to make you cum next time, yeah? I owe you one.”

“Yeah,” He grins, finally placing the phone back into its bracket as he makes his way towards his bedroom.

Flopping down onto his back on the mattress as the effects of the weed and alcohol have finally worn off, but he’s still left with butterflies tickling his ribcage. His cock still pulsing beneath his jeans as he rolled his hips, the length of it pressed against the rough denim as a low groan rumbled from deep in his chest. The irony was that he’d spent the better part of an hour on the line to a sex line operator and he was still painfully hard after the exchange, his fingers slipping down to his fly to unbutton his pants. Dragging them down just enough to free his aching cock as he wrapped a fist around it, hissing at the temporary relief as he gave himself a languid pump. His thumb swiped against the blunt head to collect the shiny bead of pre that glistened against the tip as he smoothed it down the underside, following the thick veins that scattered along the length of his cock twitch at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, canting his hips to fuck himself into his fist as his thoughts began to wander, trying to picture what you might look like on the other side of the phone as he heard your voice vividly in his mind.

Leaning forward he pouted his lips to spit onto the tip of his cock for some lubrication, smoothing it along his length as he set a steady pace. He regretted not doing this on the phone with you, the curiosity of it all still heavy on his mind as he tried to imagine some of the filthy stuff you’d say to him to try and get him off. Remembering what you’d said about him telling you his likes and dislikes, so you’d know exactly what would get him off.

Tugging his shirt further up his torso as the dark trails of his happy trail were exposed, eyes clenched shut as he imagined you on your knees for him between his cock. How much better your lips would feel wrapped around his cock compared to his fist, how warm and wet your pretty mouth would be as you bobbed your head along his length. Groaning as he tightened his hand around his girth, fresh pre oozing from his slit as he circled his wrist when he reached the tip of his cock, smoothing it along his length for more lubrication as he began to rut his hips up into his hand.

“Fuck, take it-” He grunted, eyes clenched shut as he concocted the perfect fantasy in his mind. He didn’t have a clue what you looked like, and somehow he was harder than he’d ever been. Even Elvira, Joan Jett or jacking it to those adult film store VHS tapes hadn’t made him this hard, it was as though his entire body was aflame.

Clenching his teeth as his hand began to move with more urgency against his cock, the crude sound of skin against slick skin sounded in his humid bedroom as he moved his free hand to cup his heavy balls. Rolling the heavy weight of them between his fingers as he worked himself towards his release.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He mumbled, as he pictured how wet and tight your pretty pussy would be for him. Wondering how many fingers you’d be able to fit inside you before he split you apart on his cock, wondering how you’d taste-

Eddie tried to imagine your voice moaning his name, the saccharine tone to it sending jolts of electricity directly to his length. His hand tightened around his length to try and replicate how tight your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock, squeezing him as you tried to milk him for all he’s got to give.

He’d never brought himself this close to climax in such a short amount of time, his entire body throbbed as he began to picture how pretty you’d look cumming around his cock. Those velvety walls stroking his length to try and coax him towards his own release, burying himself in your tightness with each rut of his hips.

Eddie began to imagine how pretty you’d look covered in his cum, wishing that he could know what you looked like just so he could picture you with his release all over your face. Wiping the tip of his cock against your pouty lips to smear his cum against the surface as he continued his frantic pace.

“Holy shit, princess.” Eddie groaned as his tongue peeked out between his lips, imagining you beneath him, moaning salaciously as you begged him to fill you up– and he would. God, he wished you were here right now so he could see how pretty you’d look with his cum seeping out of you. Watching your fluttering hole slowly push it out as it dribbled down the curve of your asshole as his slender fingers would catch it- slowly pushing it back inside you, keeping you stuffed full of his cum.

“Eddie,” He imagined how pretty you’d sound when you were about to cum, the slight breathless lilt to your voice as you came around his cock.

He’d never wanted anyone so badly in his life-

“Shit, fuck- fuckin’ take it-” A slew of curses left his lips at the fantasy he’d concocted himself of you, his hips jerking off his mattress roughly as he felt himself falling into his climax, his lips parting in a deep, throaty growl as he fell over the edge of his bliss. Calling out your name as white, hot spurts of cum began to spurt from his cock against his skin. Leaving silvery trails along his torso as he continued to give himself a few more languid pumps to prolong the pleasurable sensation.

Slowly opening his eyes as he was brought crashing back down to reality, laid back against his mattress as he glanced down at the mess he’d made of himself. His cum began to dry against his skin as he ran his other hand through his curly hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead as his chest continued to heave from the intensity of his climax. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d made himself cum that hard, leaning over the side of his bed to grab a discarded shirt from the floor to wipe it against his abdomen. Cleaning the cum off his skin as he stayed staring up at the ceiling, trying to coax himself to stand up and shower before bed. The thought only served to make him think about you wet and soapy in the shower waiting for him on your knees, groaning as his spent, softening cock began to twitch at the image.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He groaned, deciding against showering tonight as he checked the time on the alarm clock beside his bed.

Lazily pushing his jeans down his thighs to kick them off his legs, letting the denim fall to his bedroom floor as he tugged his sheet up around his torso. Closing his eyes as he turned onto his side, fatigue began to consume him as he allowed himself to fall into slumber. It was the first night for as long as he could remember where he didn’t wake up during the night with nightmares, his head filled completely with you.

If someone had told you that you would become a sex line operator you would’ve laughed in their face. A job like this should be for someone with skills, experience and confidence. Areas in which you felt you were severely lacking, but you’d surprised yourself the first time you’d picked up the phone. The job boosted your confidence to no end and allowed you to finally move out of your childhood home.

It wasn’t supposed to be a full-time arrangement, just something you could do between jobs to earn enough money to pay the bills. And the salary you earned in the few hours each night was far more than anything you’d made working at the local store. Sure it was a little unorthodox, but you were determined to earn enough money so that you didn’t have to move back in with your parents, anything would be better than that.

Although you hadn’t been doing this job for long, you still had your fair share of regulars. Men that would specifically ask for you when you called, your boss Bev often vetting them before they were transferred to you. Ensuring that anyone who became too much was banned or transferred to one of the more experienced ladies, your safety was her top priority.

You’d been thinking about Eddie all day, wishing that you’d met under different circumstances so you’d have a way of contacting him. Wondering whether he’d actually fancy you if you’d grown up in the same town and if you’d even have a chance with him. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled that much on a phone call with one of your friends, never mind the clients that you spoke to daily. There was something that had you holding onto the little fantasy that you’d now concocted in your mind with Eddie Munson, although you knew that’s all it would be– a stupid little fantasy.

He probably lived on the other side of the country for all you knew, or maybe he already had a girlfriend. There were a lot of things you had to overlook as part of your job, and unfortunately, there were a lot of negatives. The men that called your sex line were often calling for a reason, and Eddie was no different. You were a means to an end for most people, and you’d have to continue to remind yourself of that. You hadn’t even got him off on the phone call, so you doubted he would call again. But, it had been nice to dream, even for a few moments.

The shrill ring of your phone broke you from your thoughts as you reached out to answer it, snuggling back against the plush cushions of your couch.

“Hello?”

“Hey, darling. There’s a client asking for you by name.” Your boss Bev spoke on the other side of the line.

“Ugh, it’s not that creepy again, is it? I told him to stop calling.” You blanched at the thought, placing a hand over your eyes to try and block him from your memory.

“No, it ain’t him, but he sounds young? Said he spoke to you last night?” Your boss continued, “I can ask his name-”

“Eddie,” You breathed.

“Oh, you remember.” You could hear the teasing tone of her voice on the other side of the line, “I can tell him you’re not available tonight if you don’t wanna talk to him, darling-”

“No!” You almost shouted, sitting up from your position lying on your sofa, “No, it’s okay. You can patch him through to me.”

“Okay, hun. But you call if you need anything, you hear me? I don’t want to find out any of my men have been taking advantage of you.”

“Thanks, Bev. I will.”

The line clicked to indicate the phone call had been connected and you took a deep breath before speaking.

“Hey, big boy.” You teased, unable to stop the wide grin that covered your face.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eddie’s soft voice spoke through the receiver, “I hope calling you back so soon is okay? The last lady said I could talk to her, but I just really wanted to talk to you-”

“Of course, it's okay.” It’s more than okay, you wanted to say, “ But I gotta say, Eddie. I didn’t expect you to call back so soon.”

“Oh? Why?”

You’d honestly not expected him to call back at all, so the fact that you were talking to him now had you giddy. Your finger twirled around the phone chord as you spoke into the receiver.

“I dunno,” You chewed your gum, “I don’t feel like you got much from the call last night.”

“Oh no, I really fucking did,” He groaned, “Had the first good night's sleep I’ve had in months.”

“I’m glad,” You smiled, snuggling back against your pillows, “You sound a lot happier today”

“I am.” He breathed softly, “Especially now I’m talking to you.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” You laughed.

“Just the real pretty ones.” He shot back.

“Lucky me, huh?”

“I guess you are pretty lucky,” Eddie scoffed, “I mean out of all the guys you could be talking to, you get to talk to me.”

“I’m glad I picked up your call,” You smiled.

“Hey– I was gonna ask you this last night, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Eddie mumbled, “But I was wondering what made you work for a sex line?”

The question caught you off guard, you hadn’t been expecting him to ask the question so soon, and in such an upfront manner. You were often embarrassed about talking about your job, only one of your closest friends knew what you did for a living. You hated the thought of him judging you. Like most people seemed to, it’s why you didn’t tell anyone in your personal life what you did for work.

“It pays the bills,” You shrugged.

“That’s fair enough,” Eddie smiled, “A pretty wild way to pay the bills though.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a few weird jobs to snag a bit of extra cash.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He laughed and you felt your heart clench.

“So did you call to finally experience my world-class service today?” You laughed, “Since you didn’t get the full experience last night.”

“I’d disagree, cause I think I did,” Eddie’s voice was soft as it flowed through the receiver, “You gave me a lot to think about-”

If only you knew he spent the rest of his evening fisting his cock to the thought of you.

“Oh really?” You grinned, “Want me to impart more of my words of wisdom on you, young padawan?”

“I ain’t here for therapy, sweetheart.” He replied huskily.

“You do realise this is a premium service?” You rolled your eyes, “You’re definitely paying over the odds just to listen to me.”

“Oh, my wallet definitely knows,” Eddie smirked, “I just like the sound of your voice.”

“Your wallet will be sobbing when it’s empty and all you have is my voice,” You laughed.

“I dunno, seems pretty worth it to me,” He shrugged.

“But you shouldn’t settle. You could be getting more for your money, Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie licked his lips, his heart speeding up as he tried to think of what to say next.

“There’s nothing wrong with lowering your inhibitions.” You cooed, “I could help you with any little problems you might have..”

You trailed off, really hoping that he might get the hint, you’d never felt so flustered on a call as you had with Eddie.

Most men left you bored, watching the clock as you pretended that they were the only man in the world.

But with Eddie you didn't have to pretend, he had you curious, inquisitive, desperate for more.

Your clit throbbed at the sound of his voice, thinking about how he would sound saying the most desperate, depraved things to you.

“What problems would those be, sweetheart?”

“I dunno?” You laughed, “Maybe the real reason this line is here?”

“Wait, what.” You could practically feel Eddie blushing on the other side of the phone, “No- that’s not why- I didn’t try to call you back for that-” He stuttered.

“Eddie, relax,” You cut him off with a laugh, “You’re the one calling a sex line, remember? It’s kinda my job.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m calling for… Cause it isn’t.”

His voice softened on the other side of the phone as you smiled slightly, “You don’t have to be shy, pretty boy. That’s kinda what this line is for.”

“You call all of your callers pretty boy?” He scoffed.

“No, just you.” You teased back, you weren’t one to use pet names during calls even though your clients seemed to like using any and everything to describe you. Different men had different vices so you had to learn to deal with pet names that you wouldn’t always enjoy. Most of the time you blanked out all emotion during these calls, something that meant things wouldn’t become too intense. But when you started speaking to Eddie you felt yourself diving in heart first, slowly feeling yourself yearning for him.

“How’d you know I'm even pretty, eh?” Eddie teased.

“I can just tell,” You hummed, “I have this feeling-”

“You gonna tell me you’re a seer now?” Eddie joked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” You joked, but you heard him curse on the other side of the phone.

“Don’t do that shit, sweetheart.” He laughed, “I’ll start believing you.”

“Was I right?” Your cheeks ached from smiling so wide.

“Lucky guess,” He muttered.

“Okay, stop avoiding the question.” You pulled him back to the topic, eager to know the answer, “Tell me what you look like.”

The line went silent for a few moments, the air thick with tension as you were worried that you’d upset him. The truth was Eddie was scared to tell you what he looked like, nervous even. Unsure how he could make himself sound attractive over a phone call when you couldn’t even see him. He wanted so desperately to make himself sound like a fantasy, like the way the elves were described in all his fantasy novels- the perfect creatures. But all he could think of were things that would put most women off, the same way it had put off the women in Hawkins.

“You first.” He deflected.

“Uh-uh, I asked first.” You joked back.

“Aren’t I the paying customer?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you knew at that moment he’d won.

“Ugh, fine.” You huffed, “Cheap trick.”

“Are you going to tell me what you look like, or what Cherry looks like?”

“How would you know the difference?”

“Wow, sweetheart. You really gonna lie to me?”

“Who said it would be a lie?”

“What do you normally say when guys ask what you look like?”

“Usually they already have a specific fantasy in mind, so I just go along with whatever they like to avoid disappointment.”

“Well, you definitely don’t need to worry about disappointing me,” Eddie mumbled, “I just wanna know what you look like.”

“But don’t you have a fantasy in mind, Eddie?” You continued, “Something sordid that’ll help make this conversation better.”

“It doesn’t need to be better.” He shook his head, holding the receiver between his shoulder and neck to reach into his pocket to grab his packet of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips as he reached for his zippo, “It’s already perfect. You’re already perfect.”

“We’ve had one conversation, how do you know that?”

“Trust me, I can just fuckin’ tell,” He laughed, “Now please tell me what you look like?”

“Begging now, hm?” You laughed, “Is this a new kink reveal?”

“Shut up,” He scoffed before becoming more serious, “Please?”

“Okay,” You breathed nervously.

You’d never told any clients what you really looked like before.

You tried your best to describe yourself as honestly as possible, wondering what sort of fantasy this would put into his head about you. Whether he’d be imagining what you looked like, or an over-embellished version of you. Deliberately leaving the things out about yourself that you didn’t like as much, as you focused on your hair colour, length and eye colour. You hoped he liked what he heard, even just a little– wishing you could see into his mind and see what he was envisioning.

“Oh, fuck. You sound beautiful.” He exhales softly, “Wish I could see you for real.”

“Okay, your turn.” You avoid the compliment, thinking that he was creating a perfect version of you in his mind that didn’t reflect how you looked. Trying to ignore the sadness that washed over you as you thought about that, the thought that if he saw you in real life he wouldn’t feel the same way.

“I dunno what to say, I’ve got long brown hair, brown eyes, tall, boring.” He trailed off.

“Nothing about you seems boring, Eddie Munson.” You smiled, “And I happen to think long hair is real sexy.”

“Yeah?”

“Something to hold on to when you’re between my thighs, right?”

“Fuck,” He groaned, the subtle thud of his head banging against a wall played in the background as you smiled into the phone, “You got no idea what you’re doing to me, sweetheart. Seriously.”

“Well, I could be doing more, but someone doesn’t seem to want to.” You teased.

“It ain’t that I don’t want to,” Eddie mumbled, “Cause I really fuckin’ do.”

“So what is it then?”

“I just really like talkin’ to you,” He shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette, “It’s just nice to talk to someone.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his compliment, realising more and more that you enjoyed talking to him too. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the other clients you had to deal with on the phone each evening, and you felt yourself becoming a little less hollow in his presence.

“Well you are the paying customer, and I aim to please- but remember I do have other services available.” You laughed.

“I’ll take you up on them, sweetheart. I promise.”

The thought had you squeezing your thighs together as you imagined his smooth voice talking to you through the phone- telling you to do the nastiest, most depraved things.

“Once again, your times nearly up and we’re both still completely clothed.”

“Next time, for sure,” He grinned, “Since you seem desperate to get me naked.”

His cock was throbbing the entire time like it always was when he spoke to you– but you didn’t need to know that.

“Says you! You’re the one calling a sex line.”

“And yet this has been the most PG conversation you’ve had.” Eddie laughed and it had your heart thumping inside your chest.

“So tomorrow?” You laughed.

“Yeah! I– Fuck,” Eddie groaned, “ I forgot- I won’t be able to talk to you tomorrow, I’ve got a show.”

“A show?”

“Yeah, I’m in a band. We play at a bar outside the town every Tuesday.”

“You didn’t tell me you were in a band!” You teased, “You should’ve led with that, it’s hot.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah! What do you play?”

“Guitar, and sometimes I dabble in vocals, depending on what it is.” He laughed, “Our crowd of five drunks seem to enjoy it at least. We get a standing ovation at the end of every show, although it’s usually when they’re trying to get to the bar.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty, imagining him giving the performance of his life for the smallest crowd. Part of you wished you had friends in the area to go out with too, instead of spending all your time cooped up inside your tiny apartment. Moving to a new area had made it difficult to maintain your old friendships and create new ones, the thought of going out to meet new people was completely daunting as you spent most weekends alone.

“Well, I hope you put on a great show for them tomorrow, Eddie.” You smiled, trying to ignore the twang in your chest that he wouldn’t be calling you the next night, “I’ll speak to you soon?”

“Of course you will,” His voice softened, “Night, sweetheart.”

“Sweet dreams, Eddie.”

“Well I’ll be thinking about you, so they should be.” He grinned, finally hanging up the call as you heard the familiar dial tone.

You replayed his final words in your mind as the line went dead, the familiar dial tone sounding through the receiver as you held it against your chest. “I’ll be thinking about you, so they should be.” you were one step away from squealing and kicking your legs in glee as you felt your entire body heat up. Although you couldn’t shake the slight disappointment that he’d told you that he wouldn’t be talking to you the next night because of his gig, already looking forward to his calls each evening. The conversations you’d had with Eddie helped you feel a little less alone in your empty apartment, a little more human after the monotonous conversations you’d have with your other clients.

If you lived in the same city you’d be able to go to the show with him tomorrow night, to see him play guitar in his band in the dingy dive bar. But instead, you were stuck here, painfully alone. Letting your thoughts begin to wander as you thought about being his biggest cheerleader as you watched him perform, his fingers strumming against the guitar strings as you felt your cheeks begin to heat up.

His fingers.

Imagining how they would feel stroking along your inner thighs, tracing a path up towards the heat between your thighs. Pressing against your clit through the thin cotton of your panties as he watched you grind down against his hand, eager for any kind of relief as you arched your back into him. Rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the ache as you wished he would’ve taken you up on the offer to have a salacious conversation on the phone, making it the first time you’d ever touched yourself on a call with another client.

Your hands moved to grasp your breasts through the thin fabric of your nightshirt as your nipples began to pebble against the fabric, your thumbs brushing over them as you gasped in pleasure. Thighs rubbing together to create some friction as you tried to imagine Eddie’s voice whispering your name as he pressed searing hot kisses against the curve of your neck, trying to press the pads of your fingers down harder against your skin to try and replicate how his hands would feel against your body. Sliding a palm down your stomach to press against your leggings, rolling your hips into your touch as you thought about his fingers slipping inside your tight, wet cunt as he slowly stretched you out.

Imagining how pretty his cock was, wondering how thick he was, how long he was- the thoughts had your cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined how much he’d stretch you out. Reaching places that your fingers couldn’t quite make, filling you up and fucking you into the shape of his cock.

“Eddie,” You whimpered, your eyes clenched shut as you tried to imagine him here with you, your hand slipping beneath the hem of your leggings and panties as you pressed against the top of your mound. Your fingers delved between your messy folds as you found your clit. Rubbing soft figures of eight against it as you imagined Eddie’s fingers, the pads calloused from years of playing guitar as he began to work you towards your climax.

“Come on, pretty girl- you can do it for me, can’t you?” Wishing you knew what he looked like to try and complete your perfect fantasy, “I know you wanna cum-”

You trembled as you kept your slow, steady pace. Your hips moved in tandem with your fingers as you worked yourself towards your climax, his name on the tip of your tongue as your walls began to flutter in the telltale signs of your release.

Thinking about him bending you over in the dimly lit bathroom of the dive bar after his show when he was covered in a thick sheen of sweat from the performance, the taste of weed and beer on his tongue as he pulled you back with a palm around your neck to stare at your reflection in the mirror. His hard cock pounding into you as he made you stare at yourself, watching as he split you apart on his cock.

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” He cooed into your ear, his warm breath fanning your cheek, “Wanna watch you come undone for me-”

You could feel it, you were so close to the edge as you began to place more pressure against your clit, determined to vault into your bliss before you heard the shrill tone of your phone ringing in the background.

“Fuck,” You growled as you pulled your hand from your leggings, scrambling to reach the phone you’d hung back on the dock as you tried to pick up in time before your client was transferred to another operator.

You couldn’t pass up the opportunity for another call, not right now with rent due. Your nose scrunched in frustration as your clit throbbed with neglect, your entire body so close to the release you coveted.

“Hi there, handsome.” You cooed into the phone, immediately putting on your sultry phone voice as you heard your client reply through the receiver, “I’m so glad you called-”

The lie came out so naturally now, you were so used to the lie on the phone with these men- but you couldn’t help but wish it was Eddie on the other side.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut

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