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myosotisa · 1 year ago

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something good - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: Eddie is drifting through town when he starts offering guitar lessons at night after work to make some extra cash. You are one of the first people to call, saying you want to learn how to play.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, cheating/infidelity, domestic violence (not described, but visible bruising is discussed), strangers to lovers, fluffy and cute. no y/n. no pronouns, but reader is referred to as a woman and a bride. based on the song I Wanna Learn a Love Song by Harry Chapin (yeah like the 3 other fics i have that mention this song shut uP). happy ending.

‖ word count: 4.1k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

When you get here, come around to the garden door, through the fence on the left side of the house. Please don’t knock on the front door.

With a battered six string slung over his shoulder, in ripped jeans and a band tee, Eddie was absolutely positive that it looked like he was trying to break into this house. That, from an outside perspective, he was a dirty, homeless guy – nervously looking around before pushing into a stranger’s backyard.

A pretty little blue house in a cul de sac with a fancy car out front and the lawn manicured just so. He walked under a trellis with woven vines and white flowers, little stones marking a path in the lawn, and toward the baby blue screen door.

His second day clothes and the pinch in his neck from sleeping in the van had never felt more apparent than they did right now.

After several minutes of contemplating if this was really something he had to do, he hit his knuckles on the aluminum frame of the door and waited. Heard the loud bellowing laugh of a man, and then another, followed by the click of a heavy door shutting, muffling the noise.

The screen door opened with a creak and there was you – with a smile that made him think maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“You’re Eddie, right?” You asked, leaning on the door as you looked him over. And he expected judgment, maybe disapproval. But you just kept smiling, like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Yup, that’s me,” he replied as he rocked back on his heels awkwardly, dipping his head in a greeting. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he realized that he hadn’t even tried to remember your name from when you called him earlier this week. “And you are…?”

If you were offended by it, you didn’t show it. Just gave him your first name and invited him onto the porch. Offered him a drink and asked him if he found the place okay. Pleasantries. Politeness.

Autopilot.

He took a seat at the white metal table on the screened-in porch, standing out starkly in his black and denim, and nervously tapped his hands against his knees. You sat down on the chair beside him, dressed in a comfortable sweater and a pair of pants that looked more expensive than his guitar. Casual but put together.

The porch was spotless and there was a hint of jasmine on the breeze. Eddie could not shake the feeling that he did not belong here.

“I guess I want to start off by saying this would be a very temporary arrangement, if you decide you want to keep getting lessons after this one,” he said, wanting to get that settled immediately. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.”

Surprised and intrigued, you learned a bit closer toward him. “Oh! That’s alright. Are you not from around here?”

“No, not really,” he muttered, setting the guitar on the table in front of you. Not particularly interested in getting to know you better, he started off with the easy stuff. “So do you know how to play at all?”

You shook your head with a bashful smile, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “Not a chord.”

He shrugged, like that wasn’t a big deal. “That’s fine. Are you hoping to learn all the chords and stuff?”

“Oh, no. I’d really just like to learn a couple songs. Is that okay?” You asked it like you were afraid of inconveniencing him. You were paying him for a lesson – who the hell was he to tell you no.

“Sure, that works. Do you have your own guitar? Or are we sharing mine?”

Your smile dropped a bit then, like he’d touched a nerve. “No, not yet. My husband wants to make sure this isn’t just another ‘passing fancy’ before he lets me buy one.” And you laughed it off, shaking your head with a good natured shrug.

“Huh. Okay, no problem. We can take turns – I’ll show you and then you can try.” You nodded eagerly, shifting further up in your seat. “Any songs in particular you were thinking of?”

“Oh, well… I’d really like to learn a love song. Something happy. Something people would want to sing along to.”

The look he gave you in response was strange, almost like disbelief. Being a pessimist by experience, you seemed like everything he loathed. But there was something else, something good. Something that made the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smile against his will.

“A love song, huh? I think we can manage one or two.”

Every week at the same time, Eddie would pass through your garden and knock on the blue screen door. Every week, you closed the door separating your husband’s poker game from the porch and greeted him with the warmest smile he had seen since the last time.

He’d teach you a couple of chords, how to strum along the strings. Tried to be as respectful as possible and keep his distance. You were a married woman after all, he could see the shine from the multi-karat diamond on your finger when you shifted into the positions on the neck.

Little by little, you coaxed more info out of Eddie. He worked as a mechanic during the day and did these guitar lessons at night. He was saving up money to get out of town and would only be giving lessons until he felt like he had enough. He didn’t like staying in one place for too long. You were around the same age, only a couple years off. He had always wanted to be a musician – but it had never worked out for him.

After an hour or two, you’d announce that it was about time for him to go and slide him some cash. Double and triple checking that he’d be back next week; that he wasn’t leaving yet.

And every week, he promised he’d be back.

“A musician, huh? I guess that makes sense.” You replied, eyes trained on the way his fingers manipulated the strings on the acoustic. To learn, of course, no other reason. “Just guitar?”

“I sing a little too, but was always better at playing.”

You sat up a bit too straight, leaned a bit too far forward, looked a little too excited. “Will you sing something for me? I’d love to hear it.”

And, lately, he was having a lot of trouble saying no to you. “Are you sure? Seems like a waste of your lesson time.”

“I don’t think it will be. Play and sing something for me. Please?”

And so he did. Because he couldn’t quite find it in himself to say no.

And it happened again. And again.

Half the time, he wasn’t even teaching you to play anymore. The two of you would talk, and he would play, and you both would sing quietly on your porch as the sun set and night fell. Until it was time for him to leave again.

Neither of you talked about it. But it was the best part of both your weeks. Something to look forward to.

You reappeared 10 minutes later, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. The door hadn’t fully shut behind you as you stepped out, your hands wringing in front of you. “I think you better go. I forgot to take care of something and Henry…” You trailed off, shaking your head as you offered him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry to cut the lesson short.”

One week, you were interrupted by a loud call of your name. Eddie watched all the color drain from your face and how your posture went rigid before you flashed him another smile. “Sorry, just… Just a minute.” You said apologetically, pushing the guitar into his hands and hurrying inside.

Confused, he couldn’t help but look you over before letting his gaze skip over to the darkness through the open door. To the space inside that he’d never seen. “Oh. Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He reassured you, his eyebrows drawing together in a worry he couldn’t identify.

“Thanks again Eddie,” you said, corralling like you were trying to rush him out as you pressed the cash into his hand. “I’ll see you next week?”

And you looked at him hopefully, pleadingly. Every week. Like you were terrified this would be the time he finally said no.

Every week, he said, “I’ll see you then.”

When he looked back, he saw you, giving him that same warm smile as you offered a little wave goodbye. And over your shoulder, in the dark of the house, Henry was standing there. Watching him go.

The next few weeks were back to normal. He’d come around the back, you’d let him in, and you’d both laugh and smile for the first time all week.

He’d only managed to teach you half a song, but that was fine with you. You’d rather listen to him play and sing than anything else. Begged for it every week. Sang along when you felt like it too. It was easy, happy, and good.

Eddie was only a few feet from the fence gate when he heard you call his name. Backing up, you were standing in the open doorway of the front, waving him over with that same bright smile. “Hey! It’s good to see you.”

Hesitantly, he approached the door, hands in his pockets and the guitar slung over his shoulder. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to use the front door,” he teased, slowly marching the couple of steps to meet you.

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed his forearm and tugged him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Henry is out of town, so I thought we could have our lesson inside this week. Maybe listen to something on the stereo too.”

Distracted by studying the interior of your home, he nodded and muttered an agreement. You fussed over him taking his boots off at the door and then padded across the living room in your socks and into the kitchen to get him a drink.

He walked the room like an art gallery, looking over the art on the walls and the photos. Stopped short on a picture of you and Henry on your wedding day. You, all done up, and beaming up at him like he was a hero as he smiled toward the camera.

You were a beautiful bride.

“Come, sit,” you coaxed from the couch, dragging his attention back to reality. You’d produced a bowl of pretzels and two glasses of lemonade, laid out on the coffee table in nice, expensive glassware. You were sitting on the edge of the cushion, looking up at him with that same warm smile. Like an old friend coming home.

You seemed much more at ease than ever before: smiled easier, laughed louder. Offered him some whiskey and asked him to sing you something while you mixed some drinks.

So the two of you sang and played and drank and laughed and talked for an hour or two, and then longer. The time that you would normally ask him to leave came and went – and you kept singing and talking as the sun went down and night settled over the cul de sac.

The light in the living room was low and warm, casting a glow over both of you. Eddie sang until he felt like he couldn’t anymore, and then you stepped over to turn on the stereo. He couldn’t help but notice you were even closer when you sat back down again.

Eventually, the talking fizzled out, and the two of you sat and listened to the soft melody coming from the stereo in comfortable silence. You’d turned slightly toward him, your legs tucked up on the couch as you leaned an elbow on the back. He had turned toward you too, one knee propped on the cushions.

You both just looked at each other – exchanging small smiles in the growing silence.

And maybe Eddie drank too much of your fancy whiskey, because he leaned in just a little bit closer, looked down at your mouth for just a little too long.

His hand settled on your jaw, thumb to cheek, and felt the heat of your flushed cheeks. He dipped even closer, his eyes lowering, as your breath caught in your chest.

Your eyes nearly doubled in size as your chest rose and fell with stronger breaths, but you didn’t move away. If anything you gravitated closer subconsciously, just a tiny bit of your lower lip tucked between your teeth.

He could swear he heard both of your hearts pounding – but maybe it was just the beat of the stereo he’d tuned out.

“Please, sweetheart,” he found himself begging, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to go.”

You’re married. I’m leaving. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in return, your eyebrows pinching together on your forehead in pain. “Please don’t stop.”

And he kissed you like he meant it. Like this was right, even though it was wrong. Like this was supposed to happen, even though it wasn’t.

And you kept kissing him back like you meant it. Like it was easy. Like it was good.

For the next week, Eddie felt like he was walking on air. Like he was living some kind of dream.

You’d kissed him. You’d held him. You’d touched him like no one ever had before. Like he was something, like he was good.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like he was something good.

Couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, felt like it was worth sticking around for.

And he was whistling a happy tune when he pushed through the gate fence like usual, walking along the stepping stones under the trellis, and to the baby blue screen door. He tapped three times, already smiling just at the idea of seeing you.

But he didn’t hear your husband and his buddies inside. Didn’t hear the loud click of the door shutting. Just saw the vague outline of you approaching the screen door.

You only opened it a few inches, hiding half of your face. Your smile was weak, sad. Forced.

“Sorry, I meant to call you,” you said, fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway.

His heart dropped, his expression falling too. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” you assured him, and he decided to ignore how choked it sounded. “I just have to cancel our lesson this week. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He looked you over in concern, his mind racing. Was this because of last week? Did you regret it? Do you regret me? “That’s fine, but are you sure everythin–”

Your hand pressed some cash into his, interrupting him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, before shutting the screen door and turning away.

He stood there until the door clicked shut behind you. And then a little longer.

You didn’t ask if he would be back next week. And he thought to himself…

Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t.

He didn’t get the chance to decide if he would show up the next week, because he saw you again 5 days later.

Through the window to the lobby, he saw you talking to the receptionist with a smile. It almost felt like seeing you for the first time – not on your porch or in your house. Out in the world, the same one he lived in.

Careful not to hit his head, he pushed upright from the engine he had been working on, wiping the grease from his hands on the rag hanging from the pocket of his coveralls. He stretched his arms up and back – his shoulders protesting and throbbing in pain as he did so.

Shaking out his limbs after spending a bit too long in the same position, he swung his head this way and that and then did a double take.

He didn’t realize he was walking toward the lobby, toward you, until he was pushing through the glass door inside.

You and the receptionist both looked over at the sound, your jaw dropping as the receptionist gave a nod and told you that she would be right back, leaving the two of you alone. “Eddie…” You said, quiet like a whisper. Quiet like singing on the porch while your husband was inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he responded with a conflicted smile, taking a few steps closer. Becoming even more conscious of the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead and that he probably smelled not so great, and wondered if you could smell it too.

Your smile twisted into something sad as you faced him fully, your hands still settled on the receptionist's counter. Both of your eyes had dark shadows beneath them, but on one of them the skin was almost puffy – and the dark coloring extended down into your cheekbone.

Eddie’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he took three steps closer, fingertips coming to your chin to tilt your head so he could get a better look. Your eyes closed in defeat, allowing him to study the bruising around your eye that was poorly covered by makeup, and another bruise just peeking out of the collar of your turtleneck.

It was like ice water down his spine. Goosebumps breaking out across his skin as his muscles tightened in quick succession, anger and adrenaline kicking up. “Who? Who did this to you?”

Your eyes opened again as you faced him head on, tears pooling in your lower lash line as you shook your head. “Please, sweetheart. Did Henry…?” Your expression fell as you looked away from him, your mouth setting into a firm line.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to say, tried to push him away, tried to close off.

“It’s not nothing,” he hissed, his anger getting the better of him before you flinched – breaking his heart in two. He reeled himself back, one hand dipping to cup your elbow over your sweater sleeve. “He gave you a black eye, and that bruise on your neck, and I bet those aren’t the only–”

“Eddie, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, the muscles in your jaw tight and hurting. “It was an accident– I shouldn’t have tried to– I swear, he’s a good man…” You skipped from thought to thought as your tone wavered, your eyes trained on the door the receptionist disappeared into as if willing her to come back, to save you from this interaction.

“I don’t know much,” he said sadly, getting your attention again. “But I do know that he is not a good man. And I think you know it too.”

Your mouth opened and closed, once, twice. Blinking at him as a single tear fell down your cheek.

The receptionist stepped back in and you rushed to wipe the tear away, subtly taking a step away from him. You greeted her with a polite smile as she handed you a stack of papers and a set of car keys. Eddie took that as his cue to leave – turning his back to you and heading back for the garage.

“Eddie?”

He turned back slightly, looking at you as you hesitated by the door to the lobby. Your shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath before you spoke again. “I’ll see you next week?” You asked, thinly veiled hope in your voice.

Your smile wavered, your eyes getting slightly misty again, as you gave him a slight nod. “Okay.”

And it was so, so hard to say no to you.

“Why don’t you give me a call when you’ve figured things out?” He offered vaguely, well aware of the receptionist still in the room and how she was probably eavesdropping. “And we’ll see if I’m still around then.”

Then you pushed back out into the sun and away from him.

Two months later, at the usual time on the usual day, Eddie’s phone rings.

Just like every time his phone rang before this, every time since the last time he talked to you those weeks ago, he tries not to get his hopes up when he picks it up. “Hello?”

Just so he can be sure it’s really you.

“Hey Eddie,” you reply through the hum of the landline. You sound exhausted but happy. Or maybe he's reading too much into it already.

He’s tempted to ask you to repeat yourself, like he hadn’t heard you, just so he can hear it again.

“Hey,” he offers instead, attempting to keep his cool despite the sweat that immediately broke out across his palms.

There’s a few moments of silence, and he’s worried maybe you hung up. Maybe you decided this wasn’t a good idea. He’s about to ask if you’re still there when you ask, “Are you free tonight for a lesson?”

His brain stutters, confused as he narrows his eyes at the wall. “For a lesson?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, the air huffing noisily across the line. “You can bring your guitar and we… We can play in the living room.”

Hope tugs at his heart like a fishing line being reeled in towards shore. “In the living room?” He repeats again, for reassurance.

There’s a few moments of silence that weigh heavily on his shoulders before you reply. “If that’s okay?”

“I can be there in an hour.”

He ended up on your doorstep a little bit earlier than that.

The fancy car was gone from the driveway and the lawn looked like it hadn’t been touched in a little bit too long.

Nervous like a kid going on his first date, he hiked up the concrete steps and knocked on your front door. Held his breath – like he was waiting for you to open it and yell at him for coming to the front, for coming at all.

You opened the door and gave him that smile again. Like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Eddie,” you said, half as a relieved sigh. “It’s good to see you.”

And you looked good. Tired and a bit like you had been having trouble taking care of yourself, but lighter. More at ease.

“It’s good to see you too.”

You invited him in, fussed about him taking his boots off at the door, and then rushed to grab him a drink – more nervous than you were before. Nervous?

He noticed the missing photos on the walls before he sat down on the couch and set his guitar beside him. You came back over with a snack and two drinks, setting them on the coffee table with slightly trembling hands. When you sat down on the couch, a friendly distance away, you stopped to take a deep breath. Like you’d noticed how visibly anxious you were.

He took the moment to ask the question burning in his chest. “How are you?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head. But the smile was still there as you shifted to look more fully at him. “I’m… I’m tired. But better.” You confirmed, telling him in not so many words you were glad for what happened. He smiled too – which only seemed to make yours grow wider.

“I was scared you might’ve left town already,” you admitted quietly.

And honestly, he had thought about it. He had the money he’d originally planned to save and more. But everytime he thought about leaving, he felt this sink in his gut. Like he would regret it if he did. And maybe it was silly to wait but, it led him back here.

“I think I decided to stick around for a while,” he offered vaguely. Shrugging a shoulder like it was a small thing. Like he hadn’t admitted to you that staying places for too long made him feel antsy and uncomfortable.

Your face was hopeful, almost pleading. “You did?”

And when he nodded to reassure you, the smile that broke out across your face made him feel like maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“So… A lesson?” He asked, grabbing the neck of his guitar and pulling it into his lap before looking to you.

You pulled your legs up to tuck on the couch beside you, turned toward him with your elbow resting on the back cushions. “Actually, I think I just want to hear you play.”

“Oh yeah?” He teased, trying to ignore how it made a flush push up his neck from his chest in embarrassment. “What do you want to hear?”

“Something happy,” you responded quietly, like singing on the porch at night. “Something good.”

“Something happy…” He murmured, absently strumming along the beat up six string in his lap.

Looking up and meeting your eyes again, seeing your smile again, he thought of just the song. “I think we can manage that.”

thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myos ideas #myo4munson

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aluminiumfence · 1 month ago

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Aluminum Fence Panels Wholesale – Bulk Discounts for Large Orders

Get aluminum fence panels wholesale from leading suppliers, ensuring unbeatable prices. Ideal for enhancing security and style, these durable panels suit both residential and commercial spaces, offering a budget-friendly solution for long-lasting, attractive fencing.

#aluminum fence panels wholesale #aluminum fence company #black aluminum fence

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allurilove · 5 months ago

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Celebrating the fourth of July with Henry and yandere husband. Also happy 4th of julyyyyy 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

I'm celebrating by eating a lot of hotdogs! I haven't had them in so long, and I sort of forgot how good they could be.

Your husband grunted as you handed him the aluminum pan, heavy with copious amounts of tiny hamburger sliders you made for the neighborhood party. You made sure that you looked nice and that Henry was presentable too. Your husband wasn't the celebrating type, and he was confused when you handed him a shirt with an American flag printed on the front. He shook his head, refusing to even touch or wear it. It just felt wrong to be overly patriotic like that.

Your husband still wanted to "blend" into the crowd, so he opted to slick his hair back and wear a hat backward, a dark blue t-shirt with a fun graphic on the breast pocket, jean cargo shorts, and his black Sambas. From afar, he looked like a college student—in better words, he looked like the typical frat boy. You were surprised he even had clothes like that.

You held Henry's hand as you walked to your neighbor's backyard. You pushed the gate open for your husband and guided him to the table where the food was. "Now that looks good..." You took a banana pudding cup for you and your son. Your husband huffed and finally put down the heavy tray. He took off the top and tossed it into the trash. He looked around to see the other people who decided to show up, and he gulped as he saw his number one rival... the Skylar family.

Fuck, were they the perfect family.

They could model for Gap or Old Navy with how amazing they looked together. Like the good man he was, your husband approached Lucas Skylar. Lucas was sort of an odd man (your husband thought), and he was a sex therapist who mainly worked with those horrible reality TV couples. You know the ones: people who came onto a show for clout and fame, really only looking to win money and cheat into having an easy life. The ones who pair up with other people who matched their physical aesthetics. It was sort of genius, and your husband slowly started to wish he was in that profession.

"Lucas! It's so great to see you." Your husband opened his arms and pulled him into a "bro" hug. Lucas equally threw himself into the hug. Of course, he was an amazing greeter.

"How are you and your wife? I can see that you guys got down and dirty, huh?" Lucas smirked and nudged your husband. You were about six months pregnant with another child—a girl, as you two had found out. "If you two ever get into a rut, you know where to find me."

Your husband would rather die. This wasn't the first time Lucas Skylar offered his services, and your husband was starting to form an idea in his head that Lucas just wanted to fuck you. I mean, he stares at you way too often. His green eyes would linger on your form, even if he was standing by his wife. Maybe your husband should take up the offer and start boasting about how you two had this amazing sexual chemistry.

"Yeah. Thanks." Your husband laughed humorlessly and slapped Lucas's shoulder a bit too roughly, brushing past him. The pissed-off man went straight for the beers. He spent the rest of the night sulking in the corner, nursing his drink, and watching Henry run around the backyard with lit sparklers in his hands.

"Hey." The man cleared his throat and pushed his body off the fence, his expression softening as you came up to him. You handed him some food and he accepted it gratefully.

"Let me guess..."

"You don't even have to." Your husband groaned and his shoulders tensed up. He rolled his eyes and looked right back down at you. "That prick wants to meddle into our sex life again."

"Why don't you tell him that it's great and he needs to back off?" You shrugged nonchalantly and your husband sighed.

"I... I didn't want to embarrass you like that. Plus, I don't want to create any bad blood between us and them. We still have to live near them after all." Your husbands expression soured. He crushed the empty beer can before making a shot into the trash bag. He then took your hands into his and he pulled you into his embrace.

...

Your husband wanted to make it up to you for pouting all day, and he took the family out to a secluded and open area. He opened the trunk of the car, and he pulled out a box of fireworks. After he was done scolding Henry for not listening to his little safety seminar, he finally lit one and took a step back. The firework shot up into the sky and burst into red and blue colors.

He subtly reached for his phone and took a picture of you and Henry both looking at the sky. Your husband would talk to thousands of guys like Lucas Skylar if this was the end result. His heart warmed at the sight of his two, and soon to be three, favorite people holding hands.

#Allurilove asks #Happy fourth of July!!#yandere husband x you #yandere husband x henry #male yandere #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere husband x wife reader

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libertyfence · 1 year ago

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Upgrading outdoor spaces one stepped 5’ aluminum fence at a time.

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tenlittlepandas · 2 years ago

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A set of miscellaneous add-on meshes for @daydreamingdrawerette

The Band O' Lite Extendo/Contracto light, shade removed, now two tiles long across three tiles. Requires NL for textures.

Michelle at TNW made a sheer curtain set. This is a two-tile version of the short mesh (plus diagonal). Master mesh not included since this is not very useful without the rest of the set, and there are additional instructions in that post. Requires AL and is shiftable.

Filed under things I was sure already existed, a two tile version of the basegame Pinegultcher table. This is my take on it, anyway. it is repositoried to the original for textures and is BG compatible.

The Invisibarrier Loft fence, in black and aluminum, with the glass panels removed. This fence matches the Stairway to Eleven staircase. Requires any expansion (because the warning message simpe gives you to make it basegame is very scary).

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

#sims 2 download #the sims 2 download #ts2cc #ts2 cc #ts2 download

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feedmethecat · 4 months ago

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unsafe and insane

500 members options

Alley way toy (short story, dark sexual fantasy)

( Before you read, firstly, I'm a bisexual sub male, and this story will be written from the first person perspective of a male, and will feature sexual themes, a variety of kinks, of male/male interactions. Secondly, while I'd love to make this story a reality, this isn't an ad, it's a sexual fantasy. Third, and lastly, I'm fine with messages about this story, but please don't spam me for attention, I don't mind conversation but I get busy, I respond to people when I can, and sometimes it takes an hour or two.)

The walls practically thumped with the bear of the music. Before me the door, a blue steel door, with the word "EXIT" on it in big gray letters. I could honestly not give a fuck about the music. Some new age hip hop or something? I liked rock, metal, rap, I was a 90s child. The genre wasn't the problem, the only genre I didn't like was country, and even then I still listened to specific things like America "horse with no name" or Poor man's poison, or something. I just didn't care for new shit. I shoved the thought out of my mind, forcefully.

"Okay A- umm Amy!"

I said to myself, almost breaking a rule, I wasn't allowed to use my old name. In fact, like the other property around here I was dubbed nameless. We were only allowed to use girls names. Simple enough. There were a few others. Our "job" was simple, lure customers to the club. It wasn't a job, it was more a task, as we didn't get paid in a traditional manner. Some "gurls" walked out, and lead customers back by promise of a fun time, others promised a lap dance, and some got fucked in the bathroom. I however wasn't trusted to leave the club, and I was the low slut on the totem pole. So, instead, I was to be in the alley. I pushed the exit door open, and stepped outside. The alley way was fenced off, with barbwire at the top. I couldn't leave if I wanted to, well I could, I was actually very resourceful, but I didn't want to, regardless I wasn't allowed to leave. There was one lamp, pointed one direction in the middle of the alley, that barely lit anything, lighting only from the first 10 feet of the alley near to the side of the alley closest to the street. I walked from the lit side of the alley into the darkness.

I was wearing quite the get up, in fact, my outfit made me feel embarrassed, ashamed, it made me feel slutty, and sexy, I loved it. My stomach, and Lowe back were completely exposed, I was pretty skinny now a days, not starved, just on a strict diet. The top, my chest, was covered by a tube top, thin enough that if someone looked closely enough at the black material, they'd be able to make out the piercings on my nipples. My nipples felt perky, in the cold night air, it was could enough to see my breath. It was also cold enough that I felt shrinkage, the back band of my chastity cage felt more tight, while the head of my chastity cage felt a little loose. My small tip, felt numb. The shorts, my daisy dukes, were short enough, that you could clearly see my bulge in them, and the back part of them, a strand about half an inch thick, wouldn't have hid my buttplug if I bent over. They did nothing to ward against the cold. I also wore thigh high netting, matching netting gloves, which felt great. The only other thing I wore was a collar, literally, a dog collar, from Petco. Apparently mine was on clearance? It was a pink dog collar, with a pattern of dog bones on it, a little degrading, even had a dog tag on it, in the shape of a heart in a pink metal. No doubt, an oxidized titanium nitrate over aluminum, I was many things, including nerdy.

I checked my pockets, I had my cellphone, which very much worked and had cell service, in fact, given to me by my owner. Then I had a vape pen, which I absolutely hated, I liked cigars, cigarettes, but I wasn't allowed to have anything that'd leave a scent during operation hours. Lastly, I had a small pager. With a press of the red button, bouncers would be to my rescue. However, I could handle myself firstly, secondly I liked it rough. Satisfied that I had everything on my person, I leaned my back against the wall and waited.

The alley was dirty, and had a dumpster back there that had a bit of a smell. Part of why I chose the dark side of the alley was that it was the opposite side of the dumpster. The other reason, was an attempt at privacy. Plus I could only smell the city on this side of the alley. I was between two different brick buildings, and the other building was a "empty" building that housed us. It wasn't as big as the club, but we each had our bedrooms, and between the two floors of it, it housed 12 of us comfortably with our own rooms.

First person of the night, came out. All club customers were members, and had to get regular screenings, I also had to get regular screenings. I didn't have to worry about an STD. The rules were simple, I get fucked, I suck dick, they could cum in me, on me, piss in or on me, in me, write things on me with a marker, and I couldn't refuse. Not that I would. I was a rape toy, for members, male, female, whatever. They weren't allowed to beat or abuse me physically, however spanking my ass, groping, pinching, nibbling, bite marks, hickies, were very much allowed.

My cock twitched in its cage eagerly, and I felt arousal and anxiety wash over me. I spoke, calling out to the male.

"Hey sweety, I'm Cindy, and I like cock~"

I cat called, it was bad, it was corny, but they loved it. Which was good, because I was bad at flirting. I however wasn't bad at fucking. The man, looking to be an older, fatter white male, spoke.

"Yeah I bet you'd love my dick, you little fag, turn around and face the wall. "

I faced the wall, bending over, pressing my hands, chest, and face against said wall, an arch in my back. He couldn't wait, undoing his pants behind me, and then leaning himself over me, the warmth of his body against mine. He pulled my shorts down and panties away, revealing plugged ass. The slimy sensation of warm lube in my rear, mixed with the sensation of rubbing as he grabbed the plug. He ripped it out my ass like he was trying to start a lawn mower and I let out a loud gasp. Feeling a shooting sore pain, my left eye watering lightly. I felt an emptiness as I could feel my ring wink, my asshole flexing and twitching. The feeling of emptiness was immediately replaced by pleasure as he pushed his cock in, the tip spearing it's way up into my ass. There was no foreplay to it, it was just me getting used, he rammed all the way in as he gripped my hips. I grunted at the pressure as he gasped, my ass clenching eagerly on his cock. In, now he pulled back, and pushed in again, rapidly. He thrusted, into me, there a rhythm, fast, and steady, as he used me. I moaned, loudly, intentionally, I was a submissive little piece of fuck meat, and I wanted him to know it, I wanted him to feel like I was loving the ass raping, because I was, I enjoyed it. I didn't need to moab at all, I just did, I loved making doms feel like they were doing something to me, because they were, so while my moans were exaggerated, my pleasure wasn't.

He didn't last long at all, he stopped had groaned, pressing his member up me, as hard as he can, almost awkwardly pushing me into the wall, his cock tip twitch deep inside me and shot it's load. His member had been quiet large, and I loved it, but even if it hadn't been, I'd still have loved it. It was the fact I was being used, that I got off on. He drew a tally mark on my right ass cheek, and left, after fixing his pats.

I felt the humiliation hit me as my thoughts returned, the humiliation of being used, only increased my arousal. My poor dick, twitched in it's cage. I put the butt plug back up my ass and pulled my panties and shorts up. Thinking about my locked dick pressed up in its chastity. I was very horny. I had eight inches, which I was told was above average, but I didn't care about it. I had a few ex girlfriends who liked it, sure, however the thing I liked about my dick, was when it wasn't hard. When I was flaccid, I was actually small, very small. Small little balls, small little dick. Fully erect I was eight inches, but when I was flaccid like this, I was only a few centimeters, above average when erect, but below average when flaccid. Locked in chastity, it was a little clit. I repeated the phrase "little clit" in my mind several times, deriving arousal from it. I never stayed hard while getting fucked in my ass, but I enjoyed the chastity cage, as it drew attention to my member, and I love the humiliation, I craved it, being told it was tiny, a clitty, that I was less than a man, a micro dick, or a little baby dick. I shuttered in arousal at the thought. There'd be plenty of that this evening, hopefully.

I do have to wait much longer for the next person, a man, younger, black male, bike garb, black leather outfit. I could definitely dig it, when I was younger I wanted an outfit like that, like the terminator in t2, in an ironic way, one of my other outfits was black leather biker gear but it was more feminine and slutty. The man, had to be around his mid twenties. I was thirty, but I looked younger due to being feminized.

"Hey bitch, get down on your knees, and give me some love."

He got his pants undone and had his cock out when I dropped to my knees, on the dirty ally way ground. He pushed his dick and balls against my face, his limp member growing hard as I got a face full of his natural manly musk, his unshaven hairs, tickles my nostrils. I opened my mouth as he grabbed the back of my head. My mouth finding one of his balls, I sucked on it, moving my tongue around it, eagerly. I preferred when they shaved, because I didn't like swallowing hair, or getting on my tongue, however we don't always get what we want. Besides, hairy dick, was better than no dick. He stroked his member with one hand, while I played with his balls with my mouth. He pulled back, his twelve inch dick, now stiff. He slapped me in the face with it and spoke.

"Like that bitch?"

I replied.

"Yes sir."

He slapped me in the face with his dick, again, it was degrading, and I loved that too. He then tapped it against my cheek, despite my mouth being open. I tired opening wider, to see if maybe that'd get him to rape my little whore mouth. He smiled at that, but instead slapped me in the face with his member again. He then finally put his cock in my mouth, just the tip. He didn't move, the message was clear, I was supposed to do all the work, and I did. I started by licking and playing with the tip, eagerly, before moving down, using my spit to coat his dick as I bobbed up and down. Training and gotten rid of my gag reflex entirely. However I liked to intentionally choke on dick, do I did, forcing myself deeper, and clenching my throat, making myself choke and gag on his dick, I then pulled up, my drool coating his dick, and leaking around my lips, I was a cock hungry slut, and I enjoyed this as much as anal. He enjoyed it moaning, so I kept it up. My jaw was quickly getting sore, but I ignored my discomfort, deriving pleasure from being of use. For the better part of several minutes, this continued, until he stopped me, holding my hard down, I felt the familiar sensation, of a cock twitching in my throat, the warm sensation of him shooting semen down my throat, I swallow it, gulping it down, he the pulled out of my mouth, and I kept my mouth open, to show him I had swallowed it all.

"Keep your mouth open slut"

He said. His dick growing mostly flaccid. I knew what that meant. he aimed his member, with one hand, for my mouth, and let a hot stream of piss into my mouth he filled my mouth with piss, and I closed my mouth to swallow it, as I did, he aimed lower, pissing across my chest staining my clothes with the wretched sent of of usine, from someone who'd been drink alcohol. I shuttered and balked at the taste of piss in my throat, but leaned into the stream, as I opened my mouth, and closed my eyes, he had no problem, painting my face with it, and then he place this tip in my mouth, I closed my lips around it, and swallowed what he gave me, drinking mouthfuls of it. He finished, and pulled up his pants. Leaving me there. Despite being drenched in it, and the cold, I wasn't done, I wasn't allowed to be done.

I had all night to be used, and I could see more customers coming out to use me.

( There will be a part two, don't worry. I enjoy comments about it though. )

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