#battle vest build

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

My labor of love is finally complete. ❤️

This is a wearable piece of art that I made over the course of months. I meant it to be ready in time for Halloween, but that never manifested.

I tried to make this as screen accurate as possible, mostly because that’s the cosplayer in me wanting accuracy. However, this jacket was a lesson in imperfect perfection.

Being as Eddie Munson himself is an imperfect but still beautiful person, that’s what I went for with my jacket. I wanted to make something that might not be too cookie cutter, but that has history— as well as love and dedication— behind it. I didn’t want to fuck up the sleeve of the leather and put chains on, but I think maybe one day if I find the right kind of chain, I will add them.

The Levi’s Trucker Jacket, the Schott leathers, the Accept button, the Judas Priest pin, and yes, even the Last In Line back patch, are all authentic vintage items I found. I had a mini heart attack with the Dio back patch because I know some metalhead out there is screaming at me for defacing a piece of history, but I had a moment where I thought of all the real metalheads of the olden days who ripped up their shirts to hell in the pit and wore the scraps proudly on their own vests.

And then I didn’t feel so bad when I thought of them, because I knew this item was going to be an art piece that has deep, personal significance to me. I had a Marie Kondo moment where I even thanked the shirt for being part of my art, and for being a significant contributor to something that has personal meaning to me.

I also loved Dio before I liked Eddie, so I’m entitled to make a battle vest with good old Ronnie James’s merch. Bite me.

While working on this piece, I felt so much excitement and pride. Maybe the same feelings Eddie would have felt while making something totally badass. Putting it on feels not only like donning battle armor, but it also feels like a warm, comforting hug. My battle jacket has totally become my new weighted security blanket.

In my delusional little mind, I may sprinkle it with a little bit of Old Spice, have my grass smoking friends blow a little loud on it, and I might even buy a pack of Camels myself just to rub a bit of tobacco in it. Although, that seems a little much, but I must have been a Disney Imagineer in a past life because I dig little details like that.

[mixpunk]

This is your sign to make your comfort plushie a battle vest!

I can post/make a tutorial or let you know where I got the materials if anyone would want to

Closeups of the vest itself below :)

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[deadghosy]

Can you do more Hazbin Hotel x enderman reader? I'm obsessed with it. I love the idea.

Credit to the person who made the art, this is just how I imagine Enderman!reader to look like as a human. 🦆✨

MORE HAZBIN HOTEL X ENDERMAN! READER IMAGINES/HEACANNONS

imagine how reader is when they get pissed…they would just straight up punching shit just like the Enderman hits you in Minecraft 😭

I Imagine Charlie trying to make you do a eye contest with Alastor only for you to start tweaking and punch Alastor into a wall as Alastor only gives up a thumbs up while you sweatdrop putting on your blindfold as you try to pull out Alastor from the wall

I headcannon reader to always pat everyone’s head when they are at their full height. But at 6’5 they just pat their back like “good job buddy😐✨”

Imagine Lucifer and you wearing matching shirts that say, “if lost return to big boy” as your shirt says “I lost big boy”

Headcannon that Angel is your cuddle buddy because he likes how your arm is basically a pillow for you. And husk is your second cuddle buddy because of his fur and you like to pet him.

I imagine Angel trying to make you wear pink only for it to turn black when it fits your body. Angel gave you a “🤨 are you fuckin serious?” Look as you just shrugged with a “😐” face. I mean shit, if it fits. It fits.

I headcannon Enderman!Reader’s suit to be like the art but instead of those black things on it. It’s just slight purple sparkles on it to represent the purple pixels around them.

But definitely their second fit is a black vest and a white dress shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes. 🤨☝🏾 W FIT YOU GOTTA ADMIT!

Yk how Angel made that Snapchat post about you and you got death threats? Yeah well Valentino was the reason as he got mad that Angel “wasn’t paying” you as you were just working on the hotel

I imagine Enderman! Reader to be black coded just like how the art is above as the reader’s hair is always in dreads, cornrows, and twists. But never in an Afro state as it takes time to get the hair nice and soft (coming from a black writer….it literally takes an hour…)

I imagine you once teleported during your cuddle session between husk and angel. They were so confused they even searched your room only to find out you teleported on the top roof of the hotel during your sleep.

I imagine Valentino at least trying to ambush you to see why Angel is so happy to come to the hotel to see you again. Only for you to teleport out of his view every second. And the moth dude is like “shit! He’s onto me…” but really you are just bored asf and need some fresh air from the hotel air.

I can see nifty just minding her business when you lifted her up and croaked softly petting her head and sitting her down.

I headcannon Enderman! Reader’s room to be built from those block in the end so reader can feel the presence of his home in the hotel💗🦆

I imagine Velvette actually getting able to like post you on her fashion account as a mysterious person with your blindfolded looks. The girls dig for guys who seem mysterious.

Imagine Lucifer and you making each other building hobbies, like he makes you build him a duck as he makes you a sleeping mask just incase you don’t want to stare at someone’s face without your blindfold.

Headcannon on how fat nuggets like to cuddle against reader’s legs as reader was making a bed for fat nuggets to have a heater installed if the pig is cold.

Like…bro IMAGINE READER BENG SO PISSED THEY SUMMON THE MOTHER OF ALL…THE GUARDIAN OF THE END…THE ENDER DRAGONNN (dun x3 dramatically) maybe they would summon that during the battle between the angels and absolutely destroy their asses

I headcannon Angel once seen your mouth glowing purple when you unhinged your jaw to screech. He definitely asked before checking out your mouth which he could see in the back was glowing.

Since I headcannon enderman! Reader is black coded. They have a bonnet that was shipped from Velvette as they put it on and felt more comfortable sleeping ‼️💗

Who would be the first one to respond to you calling them: Lucifer, Charlie, Angel dust, husk, nifty, Alastor. And specifically in that order 🦆

I headcannon for Vox to try to always have you on his night show so he can show off his new “guest” being a new specie of demons.

I imagine sinners asking what ring (7 deadly sins) you came from and you are just like. “The end….i came from the end..” and now they are more confused than you when they asked where you came from

I headcannon reader’s nickemame is like, “ENDY, tall one, handsome, [actual nickname], weirdo, cutie, dad, fucker, bestie.” You can imagine who called you who which is kinda obvious…

I imagine Adam to make a lot jokes about you saying how freaky you are and how weird you are for not liking eye contact without your blindfold as you just stand there like “what’s for dinner…😐”

I can see you showing the egg boiz a picture of a ender dragon egg making them think they can have someone like them but also just like you

I can see you just standing there as everyone argues in the court because Charlie wanted you there since you don’t seem like a demon or angel. She tried to get answers but no one knew what you were.

Imagine modern au! Angel dust and you do tiktoks….because Angel dust forced you to be in his tiktoks as the others just watch trying to enjoy their summer vacation

I can see Adam hating how you aren’t pressed about what he says about you as you just stand there ignoring him.

Imagine you being sick and everyone stopping to make sure you are okay. (except for Alastor as he knows you will be better soon) Like the whole crew just starts to baby you and try to fix things you can fix but only fail.

Imagine reader with a baby ender dragon as a pet as reader whistle for the dragon to land on their shoulder or appear more bigger for it to protect you and the crew

I headcannon reader’s singing voice to sound decent with a little bit of deepness in it to mask out some things.

I imagine your full form if you were a demon or angel obviously an ender dragon lol 🦆

Imagine Pentious just pure on slithering around your body as you just sit down after a rough day of complaining by residents and their rooms.

I headcannon Lucifer to get on your shoulders to feel bigger for fun which make it seem so cartoony as one has a derpy smile while the other has a thumbs up and a “😐” face just staring blankly into people’s soul

[our-trans-punk-experience]

THE BATTLE JACKET MASTERPOST

FINALLY PUNKS IT'S HERE

a battle jacket (also called battle vest, cut-off, punk jacket, patch jacket, and probably other stuff) is a jacket (duh) usually made from denim or leather with DIY additions of patches, studs, flags, painted panels, chains, and other bonuses, used to signify subculture. Punk, metal, and biker scenes all use patch jackets, but I'll only go into specifics about how they're used in the punk scene. Metalheads, I think, almost solely personalise with music/band shit. Bikers use them to signifying which club you're riding with. Punks started using them in the 70s and they've remained a staple of the subculture's style since. They're good for signalling your politics, bands you like, and other information you might want to get across. They also look cool.

HOW TO START

If you're here I assume you wanna learn how to make your own so I'll cut the history lesson short and get on to the practicals.

1: first you're going to want to get a plain jacket, probably denim or leather, but you could get a canvas jacket if you're nervous and new to the scene because it's way easier to stitch canvas, so you could experiment with that as you're building confidence. The jacket should be at least a bit oversized because with all the stitching and painting or whatever you'll be doing, you could run into fit issues with a very form fitting jacket. also, this jacket might frequently be worn over other jackets or layers so that will help with that too

2: start making choices. namely whether you want to keep the sleeves. obviously you can remove or reattatch the sleeves later but I think making that big mod first is a good starting point to help you feel like it's a work in progress. so if you're going to chop the sleeves I say do it now

3: brainstorm. I know, I know, coming up with your own ideas is hard, but this is your own totally literally unique piece, so think about what sorta look you want

4: you don't have to brainstorm alone though. search tumblr or pinterest for punk jackets, punk patches, punk clothes ect for inspiration. you might get a good idea for an individual patch, or for a broader layout

PATCHES

1: the big deal. this is what will make your jacket into a battle jacket. there are some unofficial rules/sayings in the scene about what sort of patches you should put on your jacket. some people get dickish sometimes about if you put a non-punk band on your jacket? however i think that is bollocks and you should do whatever you want forever. one saying i do personally mostly stick to is "politics up front, bands on the back" with the idea you stick your politics on your front so you can see the punches coming

2: where do you get the patches? you make them yourself. You can buy ofc but don't get shit off amazon or shein or whatever the fuck. If your fav band or small artist is selling patches go for it though. You will have the most choice if you make your own patches. Do you have scrap fabric (maybe the sleeves of the jacket, which is where i got a lot of my patch material)? Do you have paint and paintbrush? good. you can make a patch

3: how do you do that? well depends on whether you stencil or freehand. stencil means you cut out an outline, of say a band logo, out of card, and use that as a stencil. freehand means you paint whatever tf you like

4: paint?? yes paint. messy as you like. start maybe with simple slogans or symbols often found in the punk scene like "ACAB" or "eat the rich". maybe an anarchy symbol. i also like to paint a layer of mod podge over my designs to waterproof them.

5: great, you've got a patch, what are you going to do with it? sew it onto the jacket. unless ofc you bought an iron-on in step 2, in which case iron that shit on and be careful punks. most likely though, you're sewing it on. a lot of punks use tooth floss to sew on because its cheaper, easier to find, readily waxed and waterproof, and does a better job sewing shit down onto heavy duty material like leather or denim. I use a combined running stitch and whip stitch personally

STUDS n SPIKES

1: all those punks you've seen have metal sticking out their jacket eh? yeah, theres a whole lot of options here. spikes of many different sizes and shapes, which within that can be stitch on, screwback, or have fold down prongs on the back of them

2: where do you put them? probably the front or top of the jacket. you can put them on the back but that might be uncomfortable, or rip up someone's upholstery

3: where do you get them? you can still DIY these by cutting up a metal drinks can [whole other post] but BE CAREFUL. i suggest checking out the internet for these, same buying rules as patches though. no shein. no amazon.

OTHER SHIT??

1: go wild

2: other common additions would be chains, lighter caps, badges, and can tabs

HAVE FUN PLS ASK ME QUESTIONS AND SHARE IF YOU START A BATTLE JACKET

[anniebeemine]

the most dangerous game- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: smuttttt, porn with a dash of plot.

Spencer wasn't one to lose his cool. He had always been a calm man, quietly harboring everything he ever had to, which is why it was such a genuine shock when he had you pinned against the wall, his lips on yours.

You had been purposely pushing his buttons. You'd been mouthing off all day, challenging everything he said. Even during this morning's discussion over the best way to cook an egg. He said scrambled, you said sunny side up.

The tension had been building ever since. Every quip, every playful jab had ignited something between you—something that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Now, with your back against the cool wall, the air around you crackled with unspoken words. His breath mingled with yours, warm and heavy, as if the world outside had faded into oblivion. You could see the surprise flickering in his eyes, a rare moment of vulnerability that made your heart race.

“Spencer…” you started, but the words were swallowed by the heat of the moment. Instead, you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. The taste of mint lingered on his lips, a reminder of the casual coffee break that had turned into a battle of wits.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for clarity. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” His voice was low, a mix of irritation and something softer—something that made your pulse quicken.

The final straw came when you walked by, pressing the power button to his computer. It was one of the rare afternoons where he actually touched the piece of technology. He let out a huff, standing abruptly. You'd followed him to the hallway, trying to call out but a hand had wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into a blind spot.

You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes at him. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed. "I'll be at your house at 7:30." His voice is low and husky. "I want to find you in bed waiting for me, princess."

He lets you go, adjusting his vest as he turns.

Your heart raced at his words, the playful challenge now taking on a more serious tone. Spencer was unpredictable in this moment, and it sent a thrill through you. You watched him walk away, the confidence in his stride leaving you breathless and more than a little intrigued.

“Wait, what?” you called after him, your mind still processing the intensity of what just happened. You were used to teasing him, but this felt different—charged, electric.

He paused, glancing back at you with a smirk. “You heard me,” he replied, his tone teasing yet serious. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks flushing with excitement. “What if I don’t feel like following orders?”

Spencer turned fully to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "Then you get nothing."

With that, he walked away, leaving you in the hallway, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. The casual rivalry you had developed over the weeks had shifted into something more intense, something you had both skirted around, but never fully acknowledged until now.

+++

By the time 7:30 rolled around, you were a mess. You sat on your bed, the front door unlocked, your clothes discarded in a haphazard pile next to the bed. The anticipation was overwhelming, the memories of the last time Spencer had been here flooding your mind like a vivid daydream.

You remembered how you had surrendered to him completely, lost in the whirlwind of passion that had enveloped you both.

The bruises he left behind lingered like a badge of honor, a reminder of how he had marked you as his own. Every touch, every thrust had left an imprint, both physically and mentally, that you could still recall vividly. You had slept for ten hours straight afterward, utterly exhausted yet profoundly satisfied, a deep contentment settling into your bones.

Now, those memories sent a gush of slick through your folds, igniting a familiar ache between your thighs. Your heart raced as you thought about the way his lips had felt against your skin, how he had explored every inch of you as if you were a rare book he couldn’t put down. The way he whispered your name, the rasp in his voice as he pulled you closer, all made your skin tingle with longing.

His presence broke your daydream. He had already discarded his tie and vest. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, a look of amusement on his face.

Spencer took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “I do like it when you’re waiting for me,” he murmured, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, and the playful spark in his eyes made your pulse race. You could feel the chemistry between you simmering, the air thick with anticipation as you both stood on the brink of something deliciously reckless.

Your pulse quickened as Spencer closed the distance, his gaze dark with desire yet tinged with that playful mischief you’d come to love. His hands reached out, brushing your skin as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch, like he’d done before. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I see you followed instructions,” he whispered, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

Your body responded instantly to his words, a surge of heat pooling between your thighs. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to speak, wanting him to take full control. Spencer had a way of walking the line between being commanding and attentive—he knew exactly what you needed, sometimes even before you did.

He shifted his weight, his hand pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you as he settled beside you, his fingers trailing up your thigh, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that made your breath hitch.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your shoulder. “And now… you’re going to make it up to me.”

His hand slid higher, his fingers grazing your folds, finding you already slick with arousal. Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You could only nod, words escaping you as your body responded to his touch, arching into him. The teasing, the playful banter—all of it had been leading to this moment, where the tension between you finally snapped, giving way to pure, unbridled need.

Spencer moved over you, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your body as if he couldn’t get enough. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough with hunger.

“I want you,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “All of you.”

His response was immediate, his mouth crashing down onto yours, the kiss deep and filled with a fervor that made your head spin. His hand found its way between your legs again, and this time, he wasn’t teasing. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, making your back arch off the bed as a moan escaped your lips.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

He continued his slow, deliberate assault on your senses, his fingers working you expertly as his mouth explored every inch of your exposed skin. The way he touched you, the way he claimed you—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss. But before you could protest, he was already positioning himself between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. “Yes… please.”

With that, Spencer thrust into you, filling you completely, making you cry out in pleasure. He set a slow, steady pace at first, his hands gripping your hips as he moved within you, each thrust deliberate, controlled.

But as the tension between you grew, so did his pace, the slow burn giving way to something more primal, more desperate. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, harder, his control slipping with every thrust.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, your body moving in time with his, chasing that edge, that sweet release that was just out of reach.

And when it finally came, it hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity that you saw stars. You cried out his name, your body shuddering beneath him as pleasure coursed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Spencer followed moments later, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he came, his body tensing before collapsing onto you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your heavy breathing filling the room as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s weight was comforting against you, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice soft now, the edge of command replaced with something tender. “Always.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words, at the way he held you close, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Always,” you whispered back, knowing that no matter how much you pushed his buttons, no matter how much you teased and tested him, you’d always end up right here—in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

[werepuppy-steve]

G | 753 words

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles' prompt: graduation tags: emma verse, modern au, famous corroded coffin, steddie being over the top parents

tagging some of the emma fans: @steves-strapcollection @tboygareth @patchworkgargoyle @steddieas-shegoes @theheadlessphilosopher

@worstsequence @hammity-hammer

"Does she know where we're sitting?" Eddie asks as they shuffle down the rows of plastic seats, his bulky digital camera hanging around his neck by the strap.

(Eddie wanted to bring their tour photographer, Cody, but Steve had to gently remind him that the school already had one hired. Eddie only sulked for an hour.)

Steve levels him a look. "If she doesn't see us, then she'll spot one of these goons and follow the line." He points over his shoulder to their accompanying party.

Wayne is directly behind him, followed by Robin and Chrissy. Jeff, Gareth, Freak, and the kids shuffle in behind them. As much as Eddie doesn’t like flaunting his celebrity status around, he had to call ahead the week before to request an entire row to be reserved just to fit all of them.

His baby is graduating kindergarten, he'll be damned if he doesn't pull out all the stops. They’re even having a little graduation party for her at the house afterwards—a backyard BBQ with everyone and the rest of the tour crew and family who couldn't make it to the ceremony.

Not long after everyone is seated, Pomp and Circumstance crackles out of the loudspeakers and the kids start to walk down the aisle in pairs. It's definitely not perfect, some kids take too-eager steps and some stop to hug their parents, but the teachers do their best to guide them.

Steve starts recording with his phone the second they spot Emma, the digital chime of Eddie's camera shutter clicking away beside him. Her curls are barely tamed in the side pony she asked Eddie to put it in, but it matches the whole 'rocker' vibe she's got going on.

Amongst the sea of summer dresses and pressed toddler slacks, their little girl is wearing her black denim battle vest over a light purple Hannah Montana shirt Steve had gotten at a yard sale, with a pale blue frilly tutu and a pair of silver glitter leggings and her black boots.

She looks nervous, though. Tense. Her shoulders are drawn up and her hands are clasped in front of her. Brown eyes dart this way and that around the room trying to spot a familiar face in the crowd and it breaks Steve's heart to watch his kid be so anxious. Her teacher said she did great at practice yesterday, but that was without the fifty pairs of eyes on her.

Mike is sitting on the end and she finds him easily, her eyes lighting up in recognition, but there's still a worried crease between her eyebrows that doesn't smooth out until she's locking eyes with her dads. She gives them a tiny wave as she walks by.

They both give her encouraging thumbs up and Eddie wishes he could just snatch her up and run out of the building with her.

They eventually get all the kids filed in and the principal stands behind the podium on the stage to welcome everyone. She goes through the awards first (Emma receives one for reading above her grade level, something that Eddie is very proud of) before the kids line back up to receive their little diplomas.

Halfway through the list, Eddie suddenly elbows Steve. "Shit, I didn't hear her name, did we miss her?"

His phone is still recording. "Dude, her last name is M, we're still in the J's."

"Oh, right."

Emma's class is only about 50 or so kids so it doesn't really take that long to get to her name, but Steve and Eddie are still vibrating with the anticipation.

"Emma Munson."

Immediately, their entire entourage is up on their feet and cheering and yelling. It's way too loud for the cafeteria setting they're in, and it echos, and you can definitely tell which of them are in the famous metal band.

Emma's little cheeks turn the same color as her glasses but her grin is big and wide as she holds her certificate in front of her for the picture. Both Steve and Eddie are rapid fire pressing the shutter buttons on their cameras.

Once she's off the stage, the principal clears her throat. "A reminder to please hold all applause until the end of the ceremony, thank you." She gives them a not-so-subtle glare over the rims of her own glasses.

Sheepishly, their group sits back down and is quiet once more.

"We're gonna be worse during her eighth grade graduation, right?" Steve whispers to Eddie.

"Oh, absolutely. She'll want to kill us afterwards."

[fuctacles]

Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

*

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break. 

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

*

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently. 

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

*

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah.”

*

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice. 

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”  

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

*

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting. 

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’m itching to request another Price kidnapping fic, but I’m not gonna make you write a THIRD one despite how delicious and delightful your writing is

Congratulations!🎉🎉🎉

—Burst Veins

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

When he had looked back, you were gone. 

Price had never been so panicked—his eyes snapping this way and that, body turning in a circle as the radio on his chest went wild with barks and intel coming in. This had turned into a shit-show fast; there were too many problems at once. 

And now you had disappeared.

“Fuck!” He shouts, combat vest heavy on his chest as a soul-deep worry infects him. But John wasn’t one to drown in in-action; he was a Captain. 

Wrenching a hand to the radio, he snarls the new plan to the rest of One-Four-One and tells Simon to radio into Laswell for air support as his boots begin tracing his footsteps back. 

The building he was in had flickering lights above his head, making his eyes lose focus before they honed on as he shook his head. Finding you became his top priority in a matter of seconds, and that fact was both a stain and a curse on John’s brain.

Since when had you gotten so important to him beyond being a valuable asset and a member of his Task Force? It was a question for another time, evidently, because you’d been stolen out from under his very nose. 

The question was…where had you gone?

—

You’re kneeling in the middle of a large lobby, hands tied and a rag stuck in your mouth as a gun is leveled at your head. 

It was embarrassing how it happened—one of these goons had snuck up behind you and stuck a piece of fabric with chloroform on it to your mouth and nose, able to keep pressure for the few moments that was needed to make you loopy. And now…now you were stuck with a battle outside and your Captain probably looking for you.

Or at least…you hope he was. 

The rag is ripped out of your mouth, your broken nose leaking long streaks of blood out as you hiss when fingers grab at it; a rabid shout stuck in your throat as your head is shoved back.

“Radio your soldiers,” the man speaks quickly, looking around. He couldn’t even drag you out of the building due to the gunfire—what did he expect to gain from this? “Tell them to retreat and that you are my hostage.”

Your chuckle catches him off guard, your head burning as your eyes fade in and out. 

“That’s not gonna happen there, Pal.”

The safety of the gun is clicked off. “Now. Or I will shoot.”

“Then shoot,” you buy time, your hands slipping into your sleeve to grasp the handle of a blade strapped to your forearm. “Won’t matter to me—I’ll be dead.”

Those eyes of his flare as his lips peel back; the barrel firm to your forehead before it shifts to the side as he leans closer. You can smell his breath.

“Use your radio. Now—” A shadow slips into the lobby, and you don’t have to look to see who it is. 

Price takes the shot with no hesitation, the man screaming as his shoulder bursts with gore and blood—wasting no time even with your loose mind, you cut your bonds and bring the knife down into the supple flesh of his neck. 

Your name is called fiercely as you lean forward and cough over the body, hands grabbing at your shoulders to pull you back and get you to your knees. 

“Fuckin’ hell, look at me.” A light is flicked and runs over your eyes—you bat it away as a familiar beard and serious blue eyes grace you. Your lips flicker at John’s firm stare. 

“Chloroform. All good.” An aggressive sigh. 

“You need to be more—”

“Aware of my surroundings, yes, Sir,” you mutter, putting a hand to your head as his fingers loosen on your gear. 

“Head still on?” He asks you, eyes jumping up and down as he grunts at your broken nose; hand moving forward to push the blood back as your face heats. 

“As much as it can be,” you cough again at your raw throat. “Shit, we need to get going.”

John sighs, knowing it to be true. There wasn’t time for rest—you’d put them back in crucial time. He’ll need to address this another time.

“Up and at it, soldier, we’re late.”

“Fashionably, Sir.” He hides his violent smirk before grabbing your arm and dragging you up.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Fun fact: the Levi’s trucker vest, the Accept button, the Judas Priest pin, and the eventual addition of the Dio back patch are all vintage pieces from the 80s (except for the Judas Priest pin, that’s actually from a tour they did in the 70s I believe).

The Schott jacket is a second hand item from a super cool person who was selling it for a fraction of the cost, because Schott is out here trying to sell me a $1,000 coat. I ain’t got $1,000 coat money.

Progress on my jacket so far.

This isn’t really a cosplay piece, it’s actually more like a very elaborate art piece/security blanket that I can wear when I’m feeling particularly anxious, stressed, or sad. It won’t ever really leave my home once the Dio shirt comes in, but I’ll occasionally use it for photos and such.

I may get a card signed by Joseph Quinn to keep in the pocket, and if I do meet him, it’ll probably be a little something with a nice, inspiring message that I can laminate and keep in the pocket so I can take it out and read it on those sad days.

[xxsycamore]

FEATHER TOUCH

╰┈➤ You had a rough day, and Victor is here to make it all better... even if his techniques of making you laugh are quick to lead to other things.

Victor/f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Feather Play; Tickling; Pillow Fights; Neck Kissing; Teasing; Light Sadism; Slight knifeplay; Begging; Multiple Orgasms; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-sex Cuddles • wordcount: 2,464 • masterlist

a/n: Credits for the idea go to @candied-boys !! Thank you!!

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 6: Feather Play

"So, my darling Robin…Now that I've got you where I want you, all cute and vulnerable underneath me... I think it's about time we indulge in the naughty things I promised you earlier today, don't you think?"

You smile nervously at Victor, nodding in the middle of a shiver as he crawls closer to you on the queen-sized bed. You're already backed against the headboard with no room to escape - not that you're trying to, oh no. It's just that you can't help this quickening heartbeat that makes you feel like a cornered prey about to be devoured. Victor is not unlike a beast. His facade might fool you into forgetting his hunger, but this only heightens the adrenaline of being seconds away from getting under his claws.

With knees pressed to your chest, you feel the cold headboard against your naked back; the luxurious negligee Victor bought for you not caring to cover much of your skin to begin with. Victor had discarded his coat, vest, and shoes by the time he climbed at the end of the bed and started approaching you, with his three uppermost buttons undone and leaving his cleavage exposed to your gaze in his crawling position.

And now his shadow falls on your form, and you close your eyes in anticipation, ready for him to pounce on you, have his way with you, anything he wishes - but instead of his torso, what is being pushed against your chest is-

"A p-pillow?"

"We're having a pillow fight! Yaaay!"

Yay?!

The weapon entrusted to you - now that you recognize the pillow as such - has to act as a shield first, as you barely react fast enough to block an upcoming attack from your eccentric boyfriend.

Now, you might be confused, but that doesn’t mean that you'll just let him beat you at this!

You grab into the pillow you've just successfully prevented from hitting you and throw it right back at Victor. He's moving backward and rising to his feet now, as if that would make him any easier to miss, with that huge build of his. You only get more motivated, taking the risk of standing up to your full height ontop of the bed, carefully grounding yourself in the softness of the mattress while aiming for your opponent. It's nice to be higher than him for once!

"Prepare yourself, Victor!"

Dashing towards the sofa at the other end of the room, Victor sweeps all of the cushions for himself at a fast speed before hiding behind the piece of furniture. You're prepared for his upcoming attack but it still nearly knocks you off balance, so you're quick to crouch down - and grab the rest of what ammunition is left near the headboard.

Victor has a lot of pillows on his bed. It's a bed fit for a king, almost, silky and luxurious all over. Sleeping by his side here greatly improves the quality of your sleep… But that has more to do with the man himself rather than this bed.

And now that you've discovered another way of having fun in said bed, you can't help but enjoy it to the fullest. You don't even know how it got to this, with the rapid change in the mood brought by Victor's deceiving actions, but you don't mind it. It's something to be expected while with him, it's part of why you love him so much.

You get so into it, that once Victor leaves his guard wide open, you throw the pillow so hard at him it ends up bouncing off the sofa it hit instead. You're laughing, and so is Victor.

Suddenly he's ontop of you in a curious change of battle tactics, and you're squealing between laughs, and Victor repeats how he's caught you, in his usual loud tone.

And there are…feathers all around.

Since when did this game turn so rough?! You feel bad for the torn pillow but Victor hates it when you pay attention to such trivial things... so instead you just chuckle with noticeable guilt in your tone that he hurries to address.

"I told you we'd get a little naughty tonight. We made a mess!"

You can't help it, rising up one more time and doing a little spin with the torn pillow still in your embrace. Victor watches you with a joyful smile, opening his arms to welcome you when you come back down to him. The slight bounce-off when you fall down knee-first makes another squeal fall from your mouth, but it's soon muffled by Victor's kiss.

He lays you down and leans over you, blocking the chandelier light with his wide frame. Feathers dance in the air around the bed, and you're hazy with your north and south trading places again, the whole thing looking almost dream-like.

Victor taps your lips with his index finger.

"There's this smile I love to see!"

Warmth fills your chest as you realize how much you've been smiling all this time. After the stressful day you told him all about, with another gruesome mission you shared with Crown's members, Victor must have been dying to put you in a better mood.

Your chest aside, it's your cheeks that are getting hot now. Because you totally assumed he wanted to put you in a better mood by pushing you into his bed and-

"No, no, don't stop smiling now! Or I'll have to use even naughtier methods!"

What is that even supposed to-

Before you can fully identify the unfamiliar sensation at your neck, the reaction of your body is to immediately jump because of...being tickled.

"Ahahahah! Victor, what are you—"

"Cootchie-cootchie-coo! Sing for me more, my Robin!"

You look down to see him manipulating a feather between his long fingers, flickering it across your exposed skin. He moves down to your belly where the gossamer parts in two and leaves you open and vulnerable all the way down to your panties.

The tickling sensation is especially powerful there, and you try to play-protest against the merciless acts, trying to disarm him while tears gather in the corners of your eyes. As if there aren't hundreds of other feathers he can make use of, scattered all around the two of you...

"Ahaha— It's like— It's like you did one of your magic tricks and released a b-bunch of birds in here! Ahahaha!"

Victor chuckles at your joke, but it doesn't break his concentration on finding new targets for his teasing. Up your arms and grazing by your armpits, he ends up at your chest again, and more especially, at your neck.

"Nghh-!"

The feather is lifted off you for a second, and your eyes snap open, realizing that the last noise that Victor plucked out of you wasn't exactly a laugh. He doesn't remain ignorant of it either, judging by the pause in his actions.

A pause that proves to be brief, because in the very next second, he's renewing his attack.

"Ahh— Victor—that's—"

I'm sensitive here, is what you're probably trying to tell him. But of what use is that piece of information when he already seems to know?

"My dear Robin… You'll have to forgive me. Here I had my pure intentions about making that beautiful smile bloom back on your face, but now all I want is to ruin it."

The shiver that runs down your spine suddenly has little to do with the touch of the feather. You search for Victor's jelwel-like eyes, and see them darkened by something dangerous. Something you know way too well.

"To… ruin it?"

You pretend to be clueless, but the way your glistening lips part is not exactly a provocation, not yet. You're genuinely curious to know where this leads.

Victor's large hand moves up your torso - his touch much firmer than the feather's - until he finds and squeezes one of your breasts.

A small gasp leaves your lips, as he takes his time ghosting over your chest before nudging the thin strips of your negligee off your shoulders.

You get the hint and try your best to assist him in your lying position, but then you shudder at the sudden feeling of cold metal on your skin. Does he keep a dagger on his person...?

Before you have a chance to vocalize your reaction, the strips of your negligee are cut by the dagger's sharp edge; followed by the ribbon holding it together in front of your chest.

"I'll buy you another!"

The sing-song tone of his voice is unfit for the obscene act of undressing you by cutting your clothing to shreds. Still, it's those antics that remind you of what he's capable of, never to be underestimated.

Now that your breasts are bared for him, he returns to the feather, much to your dismay.

By the time he brings it in contact with your skin, you're already squirming. He lifts it off, and you still do, and he chuckles at you.

And when he brings it down on your nipple, only then do you understand about the ruining of your cheerful expression. Contrary to before, the feather's touch can't bring laugher to your lips anymore.

They only open to moan and whine. The barely-there touch of the feather still manages to stimulate your nipples into hardened peeks, but it gives little to no pleasure in its wake. Your feet kick at the sheets, at each side of Victor, as he'd settled himself right in between your legs, your panties already discarded with another slash of the dagger.

"Vic—…tor…!

The man above you simply circles and follows the forms of your breasts using the feather, alternatively stroking your pebbled nubs until you throw your head back from frustration.

"Is something the matter, my darling?"

"I want more! Please!!"

"Oh?" Victor exclaims, propping himself up on one arm as the other keeps maneuvering the feather over your heated skin. "You want more of this?"

Your brain screams no, knowing that Victor perfectly well understood what is it that you want more of, with it certainly not being the feather, but nothing comes out of you besides another needy whimper.

"Look down at what I'm doing to you. It's reaaaaly erotic."

Biting onto your bottom lip, you raise your head a tad, focusing your eyes on the same thing Victor is looking at; the tip of the feather slowly makes it down across your stomach again, and then further down, until reaching your pubic mound.

Bracing yourself is futile, as the unfamiliar sensation hits your bundle of nerves at once and makes your whole body squirm again. Victor seems to be enjoying himself. He flicks the tip of the feather on your overly sensitive clit, all swollen and beginning for a firmer touch, and coos at your reactions.

"Aww, my poor Robin! Is that too much already? How am I supposed to play with you when you're begging me to give you everything I've got?"

Arching your chest for Victor's eyes, you can do little more than beg, hearing that the sweet reward for letting yourself be played with is in sight. You need him now.

"Victor, please- Please make love to me— touch me, fuck me, do something! I can't take it anymore!"

The borderline sadistic Queen's Aide smiles sweetly at you. No, you don't want to call him sadistic, not when he's fully capable of sending you straight to the heavens with his touch, to spoil you for hours on. Images of him nestled between your legs serve as tantalizing reminders of his thorough ministrations to pleasure you. But even in those moments, there's a pinprick of relentless teasing that has no other name but pure, addictive sadism…

In a flash, the feather is discarded and completely away from your sight. Victor's hands replace it; a generous payback as they map out and cover every inch of skin it touched. But they're oh-so-much broader, firmer, hotter, everything that the feather failed to provide. So much that your breath quickly grows erratic, and your body stirs again.

Victor domineers over your senses, touching you fully now, just as you wanted.

The shuffle of clothes coming undone is barely audible through the suckling noises of Victor's mouth at your neck, but they give you a rush of excitement that has you tugging at his shirt to get it off of him even faster.

In the next moment, the blunt head of his sizeable hardness nestles between your folds, pressing and rubbing against your clit, and you feel yourself teetering at the edge.

Victor notices this, chuckling and giving you a quick kiss before he resumes the action, this time with purpose. He rubs he head of his cock into your clit, never quite sliding lower, never close to slipping in, until you're left coming undone at the stimulation.

"Ahhh—!! Nghhh- No— I need you inside-!"

Despite your protests, you ride out a very satisfying orgasm that finishes with Victor's tongue prodding at your lips again. You let him in and share a long-drawn kiss with him.

"Who said you won't have me?"

You barely have time to gaze back into those shimmering eyes as Victor thrusts into your seeping wetness, slowly but steadily bottoming out inside you.

"Nghhh!!"

With the preceding teasing, everything that led to this, it makes the feeling downright euphoric. You find it hard to care about the volume of your moans anymore - and Victor has done a meticulous job making you give up on that habit of yours, a long time ago.

It's not long before you sense the pace of his hips getting out of rhythm, and you only sink your nails harder onto his glorious back muscles, daring him to fill you up right now.

And he does; in a single deep thrust that makes you feel him in your guts, warmth explodes deep into your pelvis, wave after wave, as he fulls you up with his virile seed.

Minutes past by as you lazily answer his kisses, getting lost in the chaste touches of your still intertwined limbs. Soon he changes position to spoon you instead, pressing his long limbs against the back of yours cozily.

"Post-sex cuddles time!! Yaay! Oh…I guess all the pillows are on the floor…"

You chuckle at Victor. Then you full-on laugh at him, no feathers being at fault.

"Here. I have an idea."

A simple solution comes to mind, and you maneuver his arm until his bicep is right under your head, allowing you to nestle onto his arm.

"I'll let you use my own body as a pillow later… If I don't fall asleep by then, that's it."

"Ahaha! I tired you off a lot, dear Robin, so that would only be fair!"

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[shoujo-wizard]

@lexirosewrites srry if this is too late for u to queue up i was writing it out to a place where i wanted/needed to stop it. this was intended as an ask but then i got too into it & filled it with detail after detail so the majority of it is below the read more

Thinking thoughts abt Steve's canon music taste bc I saw/reblogged a post abt how Steve is shown to listen to alternative rock & punk rather than pop & disco like we all characterize him.

This started as a steddie thing & has morphed into an a/b/o O!Max centric blurb with an elumax agenda, everything is below the cut

world building: in all of my omegaverse AU omegas can give mating bites, and betas also have mating glands they’re just noticeably smaller. also, omegas are able to be reliably identified at birth because they have a noticeably sweeter scent than other babies, once puberty starts omegas no matter their primary gender will get periods, female omegas get a period every month while male omegas get a period every other month. it is my personal headcanon tht betas evolved to assist in various biological needs tht the other designations might need i.e. if a beta is caring for an omega during their heat they’ll start giving off vaguely alpha pheromones/scents & male betas will be able to give their omega partner a smaller knot OR if a an alpha is in rut their beta partner gives off an omegas pheromones/scent while they also begin to produce a moderate amount of slick OR if they are in a throuple with an alpha & an omega they’ll maintain their natural scent during either partners cycle & fulfill the social role of caring for needs like feeding their partners, maintaining the structure of the nest, helping their partners remember to take any medication they take daily

So first picture for me: punk band frontman O!Steve, he & the other omegas in the band have those spiked collars tht look actually dangerous tht they wear as a rebellion against the expectation tht omegas should wear collars in public, he takes birth control but personally doesn't take heat blockers bc he sees it as another way society seeks to police omega autonomy, he semi-regularly throws his shirt off into the crowd during shows (omega nipples r treated like women's nipples in this AU, very scandalous), Steve has an intentionally messy mullet he cut himself & Robin helped dye dark pink, he's imitated jacking off on stage & used fake blood once or twice to make it look like he was jerking it while on his period & ofc he’s done this stunt while on his period a few times too, & he has the nail bat tht he uses to smash already broken equipment tht they fish out of various recycling centers. He's got multiple piercings & several tattoos, he'd get a neck tattoo but the most traditional thing abt him is he wants to mate someone he loves, have pups & a neck tattoo messes up anyone's mating gland. 

the majority of his band r also omegas, he's the vocals mostly but he's known to throw on a guitar & step back so the bass player (robin) can step forward for songs they created/rehearsed just for her to perform, he's also done a number of wicked guitar solos, they figure out how to record & burn CDs on their own bc they're thumbing their noses at the industry tht wants to box omegas into bubblegum pop also bc they don't think they'll ever get a record deal.

The band is named Cannibal Impulse, playing around various venues in Chicago. Steve is vocals/2nd guitar, O!Robin is bass, A!Nancy is lead guitar, O!Jonathan is drums, and B!Argyle is part of a throuple with Nancy & Jonathan so he happily acts as a groupie/roadie/pizza bringer. They have a fairly loyal following of local punk enjoyers, especially omegas. For shows Steve & his band mostly wear whatever punk aesthetic they like, steve & robin both tend towards glam punk, Nancy favors a ragged style inspired by 1920s mens fashion, Jonathan likes subdued crust punk, Argyle wears stoner fashion but for their shows he puts on the battle vest Jonathan made him over his typical fashion choices.

Here’s the actual ficlet/set up/idea, idk what the time period is for this exactly, probably a vague late 90s because I want ppl to have cellphones, specifically flip phones. Also warning for implied underage drug (weed) use.

A!Eddie is the frontman to world famous Corroded Coffin & the co-parent to O!Max (he's 33 & was 18 when she was born) she's the result of a rut shared w sugary sweet head banging mosh pit queen B!Chrissy, Max is the best part of his world even if she's entered the stage of teen hood where she's angry at the world & sometimes her parents. He's had to move around once or twice bc his career demanded it, but now they have all settled permanently in Chicago bc the band have put together a music label all their own, Rotten & Revived Records. 

Chrissy used to live permanently in San Francisco, working as a paralegal, but when she got an amazing job opportunity in Chicago the family had a very long talk tht included the rest of the band & everyone ended up deciding tht basing everything in Chicago seemed like the right move. The band enjoyed every concert they'd performed in the city, Max had been once or twice so she agreed it wasn't the worst place in the world plus she wanted to b near both of her parents, & Chrissy would live in a two bedroom apartment that’s a bus ride away from the home Eddie bought for himself & Max.

O!Max (full name: Max Riot Cunningson) is 15 almost 16 & she's had a number of heats & gets her period on a schedule tht is still adjusting as her body changes & ofc her mom Chrissy helped her get birth control. 

Eddie has to go on tour as the summer kicks off after everyone barely settles into their new homes in Chicago, Max decides to spend the summer in Chicago after going to a few shows of the tour, staying with Chrissy most nights but also in the house Eddie owns as a means to feel independent from time to time. She wanders around most of the summer, seeing museums, eating whatever she wants when Chrissy isn’t looking, and going into a bookstore or music shop every so often. She finds herself in a music store tht had an impressive collection of vinyls & CDs, then she sees the poster for a small concert for some local band happening in the basement of the store, it says 18+ but when she asks the omega cashier (Jonathan) he explains tht no one checks ID as long as you bring the cover charge of $5 & don’t very obviously look like a kid. There’s no alcohol allowed anyway which is why it’s advertised as 18+. Max practically skips out of the store, a new CD and the address/date of the concert on a note paper in her tote bag. The concert is on a night Chrissy agreed she could be at Eddie’s alone. She feels free as a bird. 

Night of the concert she eats mac and cheese she made herself for dinner, and begins picking out what to wear. Max is an omega so she’s expected to wear a collar in public which she hates but there’s any number of creeps in the world. She decides on a black collar she got for her birthday the year before. Luckily when your dad is a world famous metal musician you have an endless choice of black as well as any rainbow of color one could want. She chooses to wear a dark purple t-shirt, her custom leather jacket Eddie paid for, her barely decorated faded red battle vest, black jeans ripped at the knees. Max lines her eyes with a color called kohl, and shoves her feet into the work boots her Grandpa Wayne had helped her pick out. Then she’s off through the nighttime to the basement of the music shop.

The basement is lit fairly well, there r seats all along the walls for ppl to take as they need, there’s a few coolers of water bottles guarded by a weasel esque man dressed like a lazy novelist in a zombie apocalypse, a small table of a meager amount of merch, a raised stage tht is set up for the band, the people around her seem to all know each other, a few people glance her way but no one acts as if she shouldn’t be there. 

there’s a circle of ppl tht are very openly smoking weed near/behind the merch table, she recognizes the cashier from the other day in the smoking circle so she approaches because he’s the one person she recognizes in a new environment. Jonathan is welcoming & introduces her to the entire circle of people: Nancy his girlfriend, their merch monitor Argyle his boyfriend, their assistant merch helper B!Eleven (who’s the only one not smoking), he explains tht Eleven’s dad & his step-dad is Hopper the burly man at the door, tht the man at the coolers is the shop/building owner Murray, and his friends Robin and Steve are tangled up in a way tht makes it hard to tell who was sitting on whose lap. She introduces herself as Max Riot & everyone cheers her for her badass name. Eleven eagerly gives her a fistbump telling her tht her name & her look is bitchin’. Max compliments everyone because they’re dressed in a way she never knew punks would dress. Each person is in a slightly different aesthetic but the eclectic look of the group works. Steve explains they all enjoy different flavors of punk fashion.

When she notices the spiked collars practically everyone in the room is wearing she can’t stop from commenting abt wanting one for herself. Robin crows tht she has to go to a specific thrifted clothing store tht has a display from a leatherworker who loves making the kind of collars everyone is wearing. When Max looks uncertain Eleven offers to meet up & go with her because she needs some new shirts to cut up, tht her boyfriend Lucas might also join them because he needs a new jacket to wear under his battle vest. When Max asks if Lucas is coming to the show Eleven says he’ll likely get there shortly after the show starts because he has to finish dinner with his family & bribe his little sister with the newest fear street book before he can pretend he’s going to her house to sleep over & play video games for the next 2 days. Eleven & Max realize they’re going to the same high school & Eleven eagerly invites her to eat lunch with her, Lucas, & their friends. 

Max is so absorbed in her borderline flirty conversation with El tht she’s surprised to hear the noise of drums crashing out a beat on the stage, turning around as she gawks to find the people she’d been chatting with are the band performing. Then she's lost to the music, throwing herself around the edges of the pit, jumping to the overwhelming energy of the music, yelling out the anger she's felt since fully presenting, sweating away her eyeliner, stumbling to get water, & then ending up at the front as the band crashes through their finale with Steve ripping off his shirt to throw into the crowd showing off his tattoos & pierced nipples before pulling out a nail ridden baseball bat tht he uses to smash apart an old stereo she hadn't noticed. It's electric, it's exhilarating, it's pumping adrenaline straight to her heart. The crowd calms as best a punk crowd can as they begin filing out of the basement after an encore tht features Robin at the mic singing an anti-war song from the 70s. The little concert/show was nearly two hours after all & it’s getting so late it’s almost early morning.

The band steps down from the stage as the crowd dwindles, Jonathan asks Max if she's able to join them for some food at a nearby diner & she agrees right away. She's told to just wait by the merch table with El & Lucas as they put away their instruments. Indeed a black boy is sitting behind the merch table with El in his lap. El eagerly greets her, getting up & hugging her, then happily introduces her boyfriend A!Lucas. A CD of the latest from Cannibal Impulse is pressed into her hands free of charge by Lucas while El sticks a pin badge of the band's logo onto her vest. Thus begins Max's whirlwind final month of summer vacation learning abt punk, filling her music collection w previous Cannibal Impulse CDs & other punk bands she ends up liking (both local & famous) through everyone's efforts to help her learn, investing in a new wardrobe, decorating her battle vest, & attending every show Cannibal Impulse plays tht isn't in a bar (which turns out to b the majority of them)

Chrissy is more than supportive, laughing as she thinks abt Eddie “metal is king” Munson’s reaction.

Imagine Eddie's surprise (despair) to come home from a tour shortly before school starts to his daughter blasting punk music, dressing like a punk with notably new piercings he knows Chrissy had to sign off on, loudly going out on weekends to punk shows, & coming home at all hours smelling of weed & sometimes high. He can't complain exactly, he was smoking weed at an earlier age than her, staying out at all hours, blasting metal, taking impromptu trips w his band out to the city to watch some metal concert or other. At least she calls him to let him know she got to the venue safely & to give an estimate of when she'll b home. At least she doesn't seem to have any tattoos yet.

Eventually Eddie wants to go with Max to one of these shows. Mostly because he wants to understand his daughter as she’s growing up without them growing apart, and because the band's newly established label has hit a bit of a wall when recruiting new talent. They have a number of metal artists on their label, some rock, and even a couple of bubblegum pop artists. But they feel like their catalog isn’t as well rounded as it could be. So Eddie asks to go with her, and she tells him she has to think abt it & warn her friends because none of them know her dad is world famous Eddie Munson, The Freak King of Corroded Coffin. This makes Eddie sad tht his daughter is basically hiding him from her new friends & mentors but Chrissy knocks him upside the head telling him tht she’s had less than genuine friendships before now due to her dad being a world famous musician.

When Max brings it up after a show that weekend they’re all sitting in their favorite diner digging into greasy delicious food they don’t believe her at first, but then El tells them she isn’t lying despite only have met Chrissy (El has an uncanny knack for knowing when someone is lying) so it turns to disbelief tht Metal King Munson wants to go to a punk show of his own free will. The tension between metalheads & punks is well documented after all. But all in all they agree because Max is one of them, Steve has all but adopted her, Lucas & El have tentatively begun to court her, Jonathan has been teaching her drums, Robin has donated some of her more glam articles of clothing to the cause tht is Max’s continued education in the punk scene, Nancy has helped her (as well as El & Lucas) with their homework, & Argyle makes sure that when she does occasionally join them in smoking weed she’s safe & not getting overwhelmed. So they agree tht Eddie should feel more than free to come to their upcoming show in the basement of Murray’s shop/building & they reassure Max they’re not looking for any kind of record deal.

The night of the show comes quickly & Max sheepishly brings Eddie along. Hopper’s eyes bug out of his head when he notices Eddie behind Max after greeting Max with the handshake he shares with El & Lucas. The basement becomes controlled pandemonium when people process/notice tht Eddie Munson is there in the flesh. No one approaches him for autographs & when they see he’s there with Max they leave him alone in favor of greeting Max because everyone’s gotten to know her by now especially since Cannibal Impulse took her under their wing. Eddie follows Max, feeling out of place for the first time in a long time, to the merch table where all of her closest scene friends are gathered. They’re courteous to Eddie since he’s Max’s dad, and Steve gives him a wave from where he’s a tangle of platonic limbs with Robin. Eddie takes a moment to come back to himself after staring at Steve who’s the most striking omega he’s ever seen. He ends up striking up a conversation with Lucas & El when they reveal they’re the pair that’s been courting Max since school started. Then before he knows it a guitar is wailing from the stage & he gives his attention to the show. Cannibal Impulse put on an electric show. Robin starts them out with another anti-war song this time from the 60s tht they repurposed for the punk genre. Then Steve steps up to the mic & it’s like the crowd comes to life even further. A mosh pit explodes in the room, he’s briefly concerned when Max & Lucas jump right into the center of the pit, but soon he’s absorbed with the performance the band is putting on. When the finale comes Steve’s already ripped his shirt off & as Nancy & Jonathan play a screaming duet with their instruments Steve is smashing apart a piece of equipment tht they got from their favorite recycling center with his nail bat.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ok so, before the indigo disk released I heard there was going to be people with competitive movesets, so before it released I literally made myself an entire competitive team. IM A CASUAL PLAYER 😭😭 and I just think it’d be really funny that carmine and kieran would probably think i’m just gonna stroll up with my usual team but nope swords dance + scale shot 💃 if you could write their reactions to the new squad I just think it’d be funny lmao

(If you want the team I made for reference, it was koraidon, ogerpon, chien-pao, blood moon ursaluna, armarouge, and a shiny slither wing because I felt like having a shiny so I hunted one lol)

- 🪑🥚

Bro I went into the Indigo Disk 100% blind so you can imagine my shock when I realized double battles were gonna be everywhere </3

I mostly had a "fuck it we ball" mentality going through it (which made some battles go on for WAY too long), but later I taught my Ceruledge Poltergeist when I realized almost every NPC in the dlc uses held items.

Funny enough Ogerpon (with Spiky Shield) and BM Ursaluna were on my team. He was an absolute TANK with the assault vest and he knocked out Hydrapple with a Moonblast

Anyways enough rambling and onto the request!

......

Kieran

He was expecting your usual team when you started challenging the BB Elite Four, rolling his eyes at the thought of you trying to use the same old tactics to defeat him.

But he's changed. He's gotten stronger and wanted you to be surprised by what he can do now.

Instead, though, when you arrive to the championship battle...not only did you bring out Ogerpon with her teal mask to (supposedly) insult him, but you also had Chien-Pao, which may spell trouble for his Dragonite.

He'll admit, you were clever to bring a Pokémon who could lower the defense of all the others and cut their HP in half with Ruination..but he doesn't give up yet.

Seeing a shiny that looked like a Volcarona but fluffier was certainly bewildering--as is the Bloodmoon Ursaluna you managed to tame back in Kitakami and the Armarouge who sets up a Psychic Terrain to boost its Expanding Force, allowing it to hit two of his Pokémon at once.

Oh, and apparently you have not one but TWO Koraidons, with the one you brought into battle being more brash and a fierce fighter in its Apex build.

You set that one up with a Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo that absolutely kicks ass, somehow striking your opponents 4-5 times whenever you command it.

Kieran's certainly gotten smarter about his team, but so have you, and he's livid about it.

It was like you enjoyed knocking him down over and over again...yet he can't hear the reluctance in your voice as you utter the final move that finishes off his Hydrapple.

You knew you had to win. He needed to be humbled.

But it didn't feel good at all as you watched him crumble and Drayton rub his loss in his face.

Carmine

When you battled her, she (like her brother) expected to see some familiar faces on your team.

Yet you surprised her (in a good way, very much unlike her brother) with Ogerpon, and she smiles and asks if she missed her, with the legendary responding with a small hop and a happy trill....

Followed by a devastating Ivy Cudgel that lands a critical hit on her Pokémon.

Yeah, she can definitely tell you've been training the Ogre a lot, but she's proud of how confident she's grown nevertheless.

Seeing you have both Chien-Pao and another Koraidon working in tandem is impressive, especially with that Ruination + Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo you pulled.

BM Ursaluna and Shiny Slither Wing are the only two that genuinely shock Carmine, as she's only seen one in myths and the other....she's never seen in her entire life.

But after the trip to Area Zero, she understands Slither Wings better (although she's amazed you managed to find a shiny down there).

Either way, those two are powerhouses.

She remembered you talking about a little lonely Charcadet you found during an outbreak, and to see it has grown up into a mighty Armarouge was such a sweet thing to see.

You clearly took the time to plan out your team before coming to the Blueberry Academy.

Carmine found your battle to be fun.

Although she can't exactly say Kieran will feel the same way..considering Ogerpon is with you and you have some new tricks up your sleeve.

But she figured he oughta find that out for himself.

[miniwheat77]

Taste. Pt 2. (Ghost x Reader.)

!mentions of sex, fluff, cute cute cute!

You always imagined that this would happen.

You’d meet the love of your life. Get married, have children together. You imagined you’d be sitting in a nice bathroom in a nice house, that you’ve worked your ass off for. Staring down at that precious little pink plus sign.

That all comes crashing down the moment you read it.

Instead, it’s nothing like that. You’re in a cold, dirty bathroom. The floor is freezing on your socked feet and tears gather in your eyes as you look down at the test that doesn’t deceive you. You’re not married. Hell, you’re not even in a relationship. You haven’t even talked to Ghost since everything happened. You won’t have a fancy house, or a man that loves you. Right now, you have nothing.

You’re all alone in a freezing bathroom on a snowy base in the middle of nowhere.

You stand up, wiping the test off and capping it, shoving it into your pocket for now. You’d have to hide it. How the fuck are you going to tell him?

Hey, I know you’re a battle hardened soldier who has walls up like Alcatraz, but congrats you’re a dad!

A pained sigh leaves your lips. You had no clue what to do. You wash your hands before hurrying out of the bathroom into your room. You and Ghost spent a few weeks after everything happened in quarantine. Laswell and some scientists got inside of the building you and Ghost had been infected in. Learned everything there is to know about the chemicals that intoxicated the both of you enough to cause this to happen. You were so stupid, why didn’t you just walk away?

Because your Lieutenant would’ve died, idiot.

You wipe your face frustratedly.

He’s been avoiding you. Like the plague. Ever since you came back he’d been ducking you. It’s time for that to be returned.

You knew. For now. This needed to be kept a secret.

———

For almost a week, he’s been trying to talk to you. He’s come to terms with everything that happened and he wants to apologize for avoiding you so hard. But now, the roles have reversed. Not only are you avoiding him, but you’re ignoring him too.

It’s been going on for a while, and there’s nothing that pisses Simon off more than someone who walks away from him, after blatantly ignoring him.

He catches you stacking chairs in the mess hall, and decides now is the best time.

“Hey.” He says sternly. Cleaning up the mess hall, moving tables and chairs around. It was your chore. You say nothing. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. Again, nothing. “Goddamnit. I am your superior, you answer to me.” His voice booms in the mess hall.

You sigh. Turning to him. Unphased.

“I’m trying to apologize for avoiding you. Please listen to me.”

You take in a deep breath. “I just needed time to think. To… fully understand what happened. Okay? I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what it is. But he can’t look at you the same after everything that happened, not even in a sexual way. He’s got a major soft spot for you. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He sighs. His voice is shaky. You clench your teeth together, the tough act you’re putting up falters. “Because. While you were out in Ghosts little world avoiding me, I was dealing with this.” You unzip the small pocket on your vest. Tugging the little white stick out. You toss it to him and he merely catches it. It takes him a second to realize what it is.

He’s quiet.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s frozen, eyes boring into you. It feels worse, you start to feel small beneath his gaze. Crossing your arms over yourself to appear smaller.

He takes a deep breath. “S’alright.” He breathes. Seeing the way your eyes snap to him from the floor where you were looking before. “What?”

“We should talk about this. I mean.. what are your decisions. What..” he pauses, rubbing his eye. “Do you plan to keep it?” He asks. You look down, still feeling small. “I-I don’t know.”

“I know how much this job means to you. I don’t want to go and ruin your life with this- I shouldn’t have done it.” You sigh, turning your head away from him. “Right now, you’re my responsibility. And yes this is.. maybe not the best time for this to happen. Definitely not under these circumstances but it’s happening and there’s nothing we can do to change it. I’ll back you in any decision you decide to make.” You nod your head.

———

Ghost didn’t think he was capable of loving.

Not after all of the loss he’s gone through anyways.

But there’s something about you that makes his blood pump through his veins at a rapid rate. Heart racing so much that it feels like it’s going to burst right out of his chest. In his head when he looks at you he hears that familiar ‘woosh’ of blood pumping in his ears, his cheeks heating up.

Ghost knows the way he feels about you is unhealthy but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He used to be able to control it, but there’s nothing in him that wants this to stop. Not fear. Not anything. The idea that you’re carrying part of him inside of you, something so precious. He can’t shake it.

As the weeks go by, you’re keeping it a secret. But Ghost notices. Your bump growing and growing. It’s not so big now but he knows how big he was as a baby, he’s sure this baby will be no different. You’re not together, but he’s watching you like a hawk around every corner. He makes sure you have everything you need, and tucks you in every single night at bedtime. With a bottle of water by your bedside just in case you wake up. When other men talk to you, it lights a fire inside of Ghost. He knows if something goes bad he won’t control it. He won’t be able to stop himself. You and the baby you’ve made together has created a monster out of him.

Ghost closes your door quietly. He does this every night. He has done this for the past few weeks without getting caught.

He takes a couple steps forward before a voice stops him in his tracks. “That’s three days in a row, something going on Lieutenant?” Captain Price is standing in the dark, arms crossed. Ghost grits his teeth, turning around slowly. “I- was just making sure she’s okay.” He says. He hears a little scoff, the start of a laugh from your Captain.

“I know what happened out there Simon.” He breathes. He takes a step toward Simon. “Do you?” He’s skeptical. “Course. I’m your captain, I know everything. Just like I know she’s pregnant.” He nods. Simon can feel chills rising on his skin. “How?” Ghost asks. “Why don’t you come into my office yeah? Let’s talk.” He pats Simon on his back. Walking down the dark hallway.

When they reach the door, Price opens it up, motioning Simon inside. “Take a seat.” He nods.

Simon sits down in the chair in front of his desk and Price leans up against it. “How did you find out?”

“Medic slipped up.” He laughs. “Look. I’m not mad at either of you. But I wish you would’ve told me so that I could’ve kept her safe.”

“You think I’m not capable?” Ghost looks up. Hearing his captain laugh. “You’re joking right?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s nobody on this base that could get through you to hurt her. That’s not negotiable either. We can tell how you feel about her. But she’s going to have to go on maternity leave, she can’t be active duty pregnant.” He shakes his head. “Huge risk.” He sighs.

Ghost nods. “That’s why she didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“I know. She’s a hard worker. Always trying to prove herself. But it’s not about her anymore. It’s about the baby she’s carrying. And whether or not she likes it, that’s your baby too Simon. You have a say in keeping them safe. She has to understand that. I’m willing to send you home with her, if you want.” He taps his fingers on his desk.

Ghost nods. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Whatever happens, this task force has your back. Both of you.” He nods.

“Now get some sleep mate.”

—

Ghost sits at the edge of your bed. You’re still asleep. He turned your alarm off.

It’s already almost noon and you’ll be pissed when you wake up. But he doesn’t care. You need the rest.

Simon is conflicted. And scared. What if he can’t protect you? What if he can’t protect your baby? What if something happens?

“Simon?” He hears your voice. He turns to look at you. “What’s going on?” You sit up.

“Nothing. Just relax darling.” He rests his hand on your thigh. “Price knows about everything.” He nods. You sit up completely and the outfit you’re wearing tears his heart up. In the best way.

It’s a normal army green long sleeve but since you’ve got a bump, it’s a little tight on your tummy. And you’ve got on loose shorts. You look sleepy and comfortable. He stands up, kicking his shoes off. Pulling your blanket back. Sliding in next to you. “Simon-“

“Just relax.” He laughs. He pulls you into him and it takes you off guard, this is the first time Simon has touched you since everything happened. Outside of small things. “How did he find out?” He asks. “A medic slipped up and told him. But it’s alright. He’s gonna send you home. And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go with you.” He breathes, laying his head on your pillow next to yours. “Of course Simon. If that’s what you want.” You look up at him.

He closes his eyes tight and takes in a deep breath. “Simon, what’s going on?”

He sighs. Pulling you into him closer, resting his hand over your hip. “I love you.”

It feels like your blood runs cold.

“I mean it. I am in love with you. And it’s not the stupid drug talking. You’re fucking perfect and the fact that you’ve got part of me growing inside of you, it makes me love you so much more.” He grits his teeth as he says it. Like it’s tearing up his insides.

It goes against everything he’s ever known. Tearing down all of those walls he put up to avoid being hurt again, he doesn’t want to feel that. He doesn’t want to lose anymore.

In a way, he’s screwed. He’s got so much more to lose than he’s ever had now. A baby. And you.

“I love you too Simon.” You look up at him.

Simon wants to cry. He wants to lock himself in a room, tear it apart and scream. But instead, he pulls you into him, holds you to his chest like you’ll wither away right beneath him. He calms immediately when you rest your hand on his chest.

“I have an appointment today. They’re gonna check the baby out. Make sure they’re okay.” You breathe. “Really?” He perks up.

“Can I come?” He asks. “I was just about to ask.” You smile. “What time?” He asks. “About an hour.” You look at the clock. He nods. Your stomach growling makes him laugh. “Maybe we should get you something to eat in the meantime.”

The two of you head into the mess hall, and before you know it you’re sitting near Simon at a table. “Hey. Price told us you’re not going on any missions anytime soon. He’s getting some fill ins. What’s going on?” Gaz and Soap sit down at the table, setting their plates of food down.

You and Ghost glance at each other. “Uh…”

After a moment of silence, you set your sandwich down, wiping your hands off. “Because I’m pregnant and Simon is the dad.” You blurt it out. Soap nearly spits his water out, choking on it. Gaz gulps down a bite of his own sandwich, holding his chest as it goes down hard. “Steamin’ Jesus! A warning!” Soap clears his throat. “You’re serious?” Gaz asks. You nod your head. “We got exposed to some.. weird sex drug on that mission, that’s why we were in quarantine. Now uh.. yeah. Self explanatory.” You shrug. Taking another bite. “You know, nobody is gonna take it from ya.” Gaz jokes. Seeing how you’re devouring your sandwich. You smile. “Freaking baby is taking everything from me.” You groan. Pushing your now empty plate aside.

“Here.” Soap slides his plate over to you. “Gonna need it.” He laughs. “Oh, do you know what the gender is?” Gaz asks. “Not sure. We’re meeting with a medic in about.. twenty minutes. Might find out.”

They look at you with pleading eyes, even Ghost can see what they’re waiting for.

“Would you guys like to com-“

“Yes!” They both say at the same time. You and Ghost laugh at their eagerness.

“Y/N? Are you ready for an ultrasound sweetheart?” The medic asks. You nod your head. When all three massive men stand up after you, following behind you. She looks confused. “Can they come?” You ask. “Uh.. sure.” She laughs. She leads you back into a room. Instructing you to lay on the table.

You jump slightly when she squirts the gel onto your stomach. “Sorry. I know it’s cold.” She laughs. Ghost is holding your hand, Gaz and Soap stand next to him with their arms crossed. All of you looking at the machine to see your baby.

“Should be able to hear a heartbeat… now.” She hovers over your baby and you can hear the little thumping.

She moves the little metal device around, getting a good look at your baby. “Got.. 10 little toes. 10 little fingers.” You glance at the men to your side, seeing them all smiling. It seemed as if they were more excited about this than you were. “Do you guys want to know the gender now?” She asks. “I can tell what it is.” She smiles. “Yeah, yeah we do.” You look at her. “It’s a boy.” She smiles. “Congratulations, you have a healthy baby boy.” Pulling the machine from your stomach, passing you a towel to wipe the remaining gel off of your stomach.

“Wow. Thats awesome Ghost, a boy dad.” Soap pats his shoulder.

“Yeah.. yeah it is awesome Johnny.” Ghost hides the fact that he’s got tears gathering in his eyes. “I’ll give you all a moment to get situated.”

As the medic leaves, she laughs to herself.

God help whoever messes with you or your baby. Because Ghost will lead the cavalry of dangerous military men. Task force 141 on the front lines of course.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Howdy, going through a phase with COD men (König my 6'10 BBG) and they would make such good Yandere husbands, would it be okay to request a Yandere military man who's completely delusional about a hostage he rescued? knife play and being stepped on with a tactical boot would be a bonus <3

btw the way you write dark content scratches such a specific itch and makes me want to wail, the yandere pirate story was *chef Kissssssss*

Honestly, the only thing I know about COD is that I kick ass at zombies lol so this is definitely just an oc

Yandere!Military Man x Hostage!Reader

CW: non-con, mention of death, assault, delusional ideation, dehumanizing language, dead dove

"Esteemed journalist (Reader L/N) has gone missing while covering the.."

The radio was drowned out by the vehicle hitting a rock, earning an aggravated groan from one of the men. Angrily, he slammed his fist on the dash board, as though he could intimidate the radio into working better. A couple of his brothers chuckled while the rookie squirmed nervously in his seat.

"Fucking, shit ass-" Adrian "Clank" Muigg muttered, quietly releasing a stream of curses in a very thick accent towards the machine.

(Most nicknames in the military were neither cool, nor had a badass backstory, most had fairly humorous or demeaning origins; Muigg, fresh out of boot camp, murdered an innocent television set in an attempt to fix it, which changed his name from "Big Bastard" to "Clank".)

The youngest man there prayed he wasn't visibly sweating. "Is everything alright, sir?"

Boston, the bushy browed man at the wheel, laughed with his entire chest. "That radio lady's talking 'bout the love of Clank's life!"

Clank felt the back of his neck heat up, and had to redirect his anger into tapping his foot to prevent himself from whacking Boston.

"I didn't know you had a partner?"

"He don't! HA! It's a one-sided, puppy love!" Boston joyfully mocked his best mate. "He's got that reporter-person's picture 'bove his bed, and has every article they've ever written. It's very sweet!"

Bright blue eyes warned Boston of the danger he was playing with, but Boston payed him no mind, causing more anxiety in the new recruit.

It was true, however, that Clank had a star struck crush on the journalist. They were brave in a way Clank hadn't seen before, the kind of bravery that made an unarmed civilian put their life in danger to expose the world to the horrors of war. This wasn't the first warzone (Reader) had willingly gone into, but it was the first time their mission overlapped with Clank's.

They were covering the battle Clank was involved in.

And it enraged him.

While their bravery is what initially drew him to them and their work, the longer he followed (Reader) the harder it got for him to read about the danger they got into. Weren't they fearful for their own life?? Why didn't they care for themselves as much as he cared for them??

The nearly six foot eight man had fantasized many times about what he would say and do if he got the opportunity to meet (Reader). He had an entire monologue prepared that exemplified his adoration for their work without ousting himself as a borderline obsessive fanboy.

However, that entire speech was forgotten when Clank burst into the room three hostages were being held in after killing the hostiles within the building, and found himself face to face with (Reader) in the flesh.

They stood defiantly, arms outstretched to protect the two other reporters behind them, not even wearing a bullet proof vest, ready to sacrifice themselves to save their coworkers.

Clank lowered his weapon, numbed by the sudden influx of confusing, and conflicting, emotions.

He was hurt, because he finally got to meet (Reader), and they were prepared for him to kill them.

He was enamored, because even with dirt clogging their pores, hair matted with sweat and drying blood, skin bruising and swollen, they were still the single most radiant being he had ever laid eyes upon.

And he was angry. Why wasn't (Reader) cowering like a good little civilian? Didn't they know that they could die? Why didn't they care about their life?

"I'm here to rescue you." Clank's voice was robotic, and unattached. It didn't feel like he was the one saying it, as the three frightened adults relaxed, scrambling over to his side. "Follow me."

He watched his object of affection as they obliviously helped lead the other two hostages down the stairs to the military vehicle. Their right eye was nearly swollen shut, but they were supporting a grown ass man with a slight limp. Clank imagined blowing the man's brains out.

As they made it down to where the group could see Clank's team, (Reader) released their friend and attempted to go back up the stairs. Still experiencing his out of body conundrum, Clank grabbed their arm forcefully, hard enough to earn a yelp from his favorite celebrity.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He seethed, hissing the question between his clenched teeth to prevent himself from screaming it. The other two greedily ran outside to Boston's embrace, leaving them alone in the building.

"My footage, they kept it upstairs." Professional as always, the diligent champion of justice kept calm despite the feeling as though their arm would snap in Clank's fist.

"That is not important!"

"You don't know what I saw! It is, and I need the evidence, the proof, of what I saw!"

"Clank, where are you?" Boston's voice on Clank's radio distracted him enough for (Reader) to snake out of his grasp, bolting back up into the building.

"Shit-!" He pulled out his walkie as he ran up behind the surprisingly quick journalist. "Everything's good, I'll be down in a few minutes, start taking the others back."

"Uh, no? Excuse me-"

"That's an order."

"Clank-"

"I said; that's an order."

The violently pissed off man holstered his radio as he charged up the stairs three steps at a time.

His precious (Reader) had taken it too far this time.

Even if they didn't care about their own life, he cared. He loved them, adored them, worshipped them, so how fucking dare they continuously put their life in danger like this?

If they were to be wed one day, their life would be his. And that was downright disrespectful.

(Reader) could be heard rifling through cabinets and cupboards through the door of the first room on the floor above the one they were held prisoner on. Clank attempted to cool his rage before entering, wishing to not scare his future spouse again.

Glancing up only briefly, the adult of smaller stature offered a meak smile before going back to searching. "I'm sorry for that.. I don't mean to make your job difficult, but this is really important. We almost died for this footage; hell, LeDoux had his knee cracked open by one of those- his knee must be killing him."

-almost died-

-almost died-

Their words repeating in Clank's eardrums played over the exclamation of (Reader) finding their equipment. (Reader) almost died, for what? Nothing was more important than their life.

"I'm sorry?" Bloodshot eyes stared wide with confusion from under pursed eyebrows.

Without realizing it, Clank had spoken his thoughts out loud. But, perhaps this was for the best. They would have to learn the truth sooner or later. "Nothing is worth your life." He doubled down as he slowly approached (Reader).

It took a lot more energy forcing himself to smile than he wanted. Clank had never been so stressed or angry or conflicted in his entire life.

"That isn't for you to say." Sharp words responded with a huff, thrusting the camera into a duffel bag.

Clank released a humorless laugh. "You are like a small dog, aren't you, my dear?" His muscles were tensing under his uniform, and although (Reader) couldn't see it, they could feel the dangerous shift in his mannerisms. "You do not know of the danger you are in, so you bark loudly."

Although a pit of fear weighed down their stomach, the much weaker of the two hid it well, scoffing, and moving to stroll past Clank, praying that he was bluffing.

A harsh slap to their cheek confirmed that he was being serious, sending the already injured (Reader) to the floor.

Before they could scramble to their feet, a heavy, steel toed boot was placed firmly on their chest, pressing the air out of their lungs.

(Reader) could feel the blood rush to their head as they struggled to breath.

Clawing at Clank's shin and calf didn't move him.

"It is not your fault, that you are such a little dog. But, like all little dogs, you must be trained. Yes?"

Not a single word could be uttered. Black spots bounced around (Reader's) vision.

Clank eased up on the pressure just enough for oxygen to fill his love's deprived lungs. Between coughs and sputters, (Reader) only got out "Stop-" before his heel was digging into their sternum again.

"Tsk tsk tsk.. Now, I don't want to do this, but I have to. For us. So you must obey me, little puppy. Now, what do dogs say?"

(Reader) glared up at him in pain and hatred, sneering as angry tears welled up in their puffy eyes.

"Woof.." The pitiful bark was spat out.

"Ah ah ah." He wagged a finger at them in a chastising fashion. "Be nice, little puppy." His weight increased warningly, squeezing out a pained cry.

".. Woof."

Seeing the person Clank had loved for the past four years under his boot, writhing, flushed in the face, glistening eyes staring up at him and only him.. Clank could feel himself stiffening, and it disturbed him. Why did seeing his beloved cry in pain give him a hard on?

No, it is not because they are crying in pain.

Clank smiled, warping the situation to rationalize his hard cock pressing against his zipper. It was that they were being obedient for him.

Another cry rang out, louder this time, as Clank accidentally put too much weight on (Reader's) ribcage, lost in thought while admiring their pathetic face.

He got off, kneeling down so (Reader) wouldn't think about trying to get up. They got the message, and continued lying, grasping their chest and breathing raggedly.

"Good dog." Clank ran a hand through their hair. "You will listen to what I say, won't you?"

"Ye- ...woof." Their words quivered in shame.

"Good. Now, get on your knees."

(Reader) bit their tongue with how quickly their mouth clamped shut. It was humiliating, but their chest hurt so badly.. They rolled over, propping themselves up onto their hands and knees.

Their resolve to do as Clank said to avoid more pain was immediately forgotten when they felt his large hands tug at their pants.

"What are you doing?" They yelled in fright, whipping their head back to look at him before having their skull smashed into the floor, holding them down.

"Training, remember? For someone known for their intelligence, you sure are a moron. Bark, bitch."

Tears mixed in with snot, as (Reader) snarled "Fuck you!"

Clank removed his hand from their soft hair to firmly grasp their hips with both of his hands, pulling (Reader) onto his dick. "Incorrect."

"No!" (Reader) screamed, feeling Clank's bare member as it entered them painfully all in one thrust without lubrication. As they cried out, a slap to their ass rang out through the nearly empty room.

"What do dogs say?"

"Fuck you!" Another painful slap left a welt that would certainly bruise.

"You want to act like a bitch, putting your life in danger as though it doesn't matter, you're going to be treated like a bitch!" Clank raised his voice, terrifying his victim. "Now, what do dogs say?"

Slap!

"Woof.."

Slap!

"Woof! Woof! Bark!" They barked between viciously sobbing, heaving as he ravaged them from behind, fucking them so hard that their entire body rocked forward dangerously. The only reason why they hadn't fallen face first into the cement flooring was Clank's right hand digging painfully into their pelvis.

Whereas for (Reader) this was a nightmare, joy was already melting away Clank's anger.

"See, this will be better, for both of us. When we get back, you'll quit your job, and I can finally take care of you."

His thrusting became more passionate, and (Reader) could feel his precum as he began to slide in and out more easily. "I've dreamt of this for so long, and now I will finally be yours: whether as your husband or as your owner."

That triggered (Reader's) fight or fight response, realizing what Clank was implying. They attempted to throw themselves forward, to scramble away while he was still inside of them.

A strong arm caught (Reader) easily. Their spine was bent backwards, holding the attempted escapee in a head lock with a knife pressed to their throat as Clank continued stretching out their hole.

Despite their desperate pleas, their new fiance held (Reader) still on his cock as he released inside of them, going drunk on the way their walls felt clenching him as they milked him dry.

Eyes hazy with lust, he kissed their jaw, still keeping the knife held firmly against their neck just in case.

"Good dog."

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it ❤️