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doubledown · 2 years ago

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Yall already know the drill no MLM fetish people as for minors go while I'd prefer you not to interact I cant control what you do

So this is abit of a specific fic for a certain someone ( you know who you are pooks 💕 )

The reader is Latino with a brown complextion feel free to imagine them in whatever shade you want

The reader will be male and masc terms will be used for them

Some Spanish will be in this used in this fic but a translation with be provided so dont worry about havin to go to google translate

This will most likely be around 2 or 3 parts depending on my motivation

ALSO I HAVE NOT WATCHED THE MOVIE so uh if its not like canon him I'm sorry 🧍‍♀️

Degration, Hook up, Hand job, Public Sex, Cheating, S_lf h_rm ( not described implied tho ), HEAVY Voice Kink

HEAVY on criticism. Trying out a new writing style since I noticed that the one I currently due really doesn't stimulate my brain enough which leads to writer's block. SO YEAH LMFAO HAVE FUN ( P.S THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITEEE AND IT IS KINDA LONG SO SEAT BACKK AND ENJOYYYYYYY )🧍‍♀️

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Your mama says I'm a fool

And yeah, maybe that's true 'cause I can't

stop thinkin' 'bout you

I'm tryin'

I'm tryin' not to forget my words

'Cause when I'm around you, I tend to keep

changin' my mind

Miguel murmered as the smell of heavy whiskey and cheap liquor crowded around him. He wasn't a drinker at all. He hadn't even thought about it. Well.....not until today. Everything was just going to shit. So he figured he drown himself in something other then self destruction and exhaustion. At least this would kill his worries for awhile after all what's the point of multiverse travel if you couldn't do somewhere where you were unknown? A place you could simply escape without anybody finding you or judging you for your actions. Nobody to put a strong and dominate front for. Just simply unknown and out of touch. " What's on your mind to drink tonight? " The bartender asked abit of a friendly smile on his face. Miguel honestly didn't know what to choose so he just said the first brand of liquor that came to mind. " Just a few shots of fireball.." He said resting his arms on the bar. " Alright hot shot your drinks will be ready in abit. " The bartender said quickly soon off to go take other orders while simultaneously making drinks. He couldn't say he wasn't impressed in all honesty but he had seen it done by failedly by parker. He always tended to try things that really didn't suit him. The bartender looked up and Miguel heart almost sunk in his chest when he spoke. " Buyin a drink or did ya miss me y/n? " The bartender asked leaning over the bar giving a peck on the lips to you.

He couldn't look. He wouldn't look. Yet the gentle rumble in your voice was something that always had a hold on him. " Why not both? " You teased catching onto your lover's lip in your teeth before letting go with a smirk. " You know what I like cariño. " [ darling/dear ] Cariño. Cariño Cariño Cariño Cariño...Even after years away from each other the word still made him his heart burn. Just the way your accent just drove him mad was something that he couldn't even begin to explain. Yet he knew it wasn't his place to feel that way nor right. You two were seperated now. But he wished that things had gone very differently.

" Miguel......Surprised to see you here. " You said your tone neutral but he could feel the hiss of anger in your eyes. You two broke up on a rather...messy note. Things were just too much and miguel wasn't excatly helping with being fuckin spider man and shit. You didn't- No. You couldn't do it. You weren't gonna live in fear that somebody may one day hurt you because they may have followed him home or some shit. So you suggested he retire from doing the whole superhero thing. And he didn't at all take it well. The two of you argued about it for days which turned into weeks. Things were said and one thing led to the other and soon you two weren't even remotely related anymore. He choose people he didn't even know over you. And it stung like hell. But you moved on and forward. And to see him in such a low state....it....it messed with you abit. It brought back some things that you really wished you had buried lower..

" Y/N. It's nice to see you again. " He said with a small smile. You had always been rather...eye pleasing to put it appropriately. Everything just fit so perfectly on you. Every feature on your face to every hair on you head was completely and utterly put together so...Intoxicatingly. And your voice....fuck your voice.... " Ah Im guessin you guys have past? " The voice of your lover pulled him away before his thoughts had a chance to tip off. " Yeah. He's an old friend. " You said simply without bothering to look at the other man. You already you tired from work and really didnt want want to deal with your partner gettin all pissy that your ex is here. " Just a shot of jack daniels Mí Corazón. " you purred. [ My heart ] You knew what your voice did to Miguel. You know what you could gain from him just with a few soft I love yous or just simply saying his name the way he liked. He was a slut for words. Literally. And you had no sympthay for him left in you to care. After all it seemed more like a personal problem then anything. Sucks to suck.

You sat down next to Miguel resting you arms on the bar slightly leaning just enough for that slight arch in your back to show. It was wrong you knew that. Quietly seducing your ex while your partner was right in front of you. But after all you had to return the favor. Finding those texts from all those different guys. You wondered how many times he had fucked some guy while on shift. More importantly how many of them were here now. Miguel was weak when it came to you. He always had been. And the way he shifted in his seat when ever you spoke or the way he seemed so dazzedly focused on your features only proved that he still was a little whore for you. But you weren't gonna simply just give him what he wanted. No. That be too merciful. He needed to beg. Like bitch in heat. He needed to beg like fucking him was a need. Like he couldn't survive without you stuffing him full of what he knew craved.

Miguel cleared his throat and diverted his eyes to his drink as the bartender brough back his drink. " I didn't know you were into liquor. " You said with abit of a curious tone. When did he start drinking?? He always had hated the smell of alcohol at least you thought he did. He used to get onto you about drinking all the time goin on and on about how it could mess up your liver and such. Yet here he was puttin his feelings into a cup. Crazy how things change. " And I thought you didn't fall under stress. " He muttered taking drinking it down in a quick motion. He gagged slightly before swallowing a rather displeasing look on his face. " What? The bite too much for you amor? " [ Love ] You snarked a teasing smile on your face. " No. It's just stronger then what I'm used to. " He mumbled clearly embarrassed by his own reaction. The wound between you too was still fairly fresh. Even more unattended then you both thought. The dismissed jab from Miguel only just proved it.

You swished your drink around not even really wantin it in all honesty. It just felt all surreal and awkward having him around. It just didn't feel natural anymore. And you hated it so fuckin much. Your thoughts were brought out by your rather oblivious boyfriend giving you a kiss on the forehead. " Hey sorry to interrupt you in your space but I gotta head out for a bit. A friend from work needs help movin some furniture. " He said with a smile. " Don't worry about the bar ken is already gettin ready for his shift. " He continued giving you a finally peck before leaving. So that's how he did it. He made a lame ass excuse and left before he could be asked questions. Huh. It was the only thought that came into your mind. At this point feelin guilty was out of the picture entirely. After all if he could go have fun why couldn't you.

You leaned up slightly your left hand grazing the other's thigh as he stiffened. He looked at you confusedly and you simply looked at him for permission. You had always been abit of a fan for open things. It obviously took him a minute to realize what you wanted to do and the clear surprise look on his face almost made you laugh. Yet odd enough he moved his seat abit closer to you despite it. " Hm. Seems like somebody missed old times. " You hummed to yourself teasing his cock through his jeans. He shifted in his seat as he rested his hand on his forehead trying his hardest not to thrust up for attention. You slowly but carefully unzipped his jeans and the entire time the poor man was figiting in his seat. " Desperate much? " You murmed loosely as you teased the head of his swollen cock.

He huffed sharply as he shifted his weight toward your as you wrapped your pretty hands around his cock and pumped it at a rather fast pace. A small whimper came from his throat as you stroked him precum dripping as your pace became relentless. He put his head down on the bar ledge his one hand covering his mouth trying so hard to quiet his soft rambles of pleasure. He twitched and pulsed as what seemed like hours to him as his responses simply got harder and harder to hide. At this point he was pratically mind numb with pleasure and being a whiny mess of a man. Yet you weren't done with your pretty boy just yet. Things were simply getting started.

#dom male reader #sub character #sub miguel o'hara #top male reader #male y/n #dom reader #submissivecharacter #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #lowkeywannabendhimover #LOLENJOYY #YesIdidleaveyallonacliffhangersorrynotsorry🤞🙄/j/lh

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shepardstales · 8 months ago

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Writeblr Interview Tag!

Thank you to @dearunreliablenarrator for the tag

I tag @waltzshouldbewriting @violetcancerian @watermeezer @cherrybombfangirlwrites and anyone who wants to do this

Short stories, novels, or poems?

All of them. Its fun and good to practise having a variety

What genre do you prefer reading?

I love fantasy as my main, but my second favourite is crime/ true crime and things like Agatha Christie

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Both. I like to have a variety so I can get stuff done and not stress about some fun projects whilst outlining the serious ones that need a lot of work

What music do you listen to while writing?

Mostly musicals, right now its Wait For Me/Reprise from Hadestown, and then there's things like Linkin Park New Divide and Numb

Favorite books/movies?

Favourite books: Any Agatha Christie, Skulduggery Pleasant or A Good Girls Guide To Murder the trilogy

Favourite movies: Lilo and Stitch, Monsters Inc, Pirates of the Carribbean, Inside Out 1 and 2, Shrek 1 and 2

Any current WIPs?

Keep The Peace is part of my series Amongst The Chaos, an adult fantasy slice-of-life supernatural series where its a bunch of characters living in the city of Nottingham, and meeting up at various places to get together and talk about events that have happened in their lives as they live amongst the supernatural - e.g Angels. Demons, Ghosts and the like and their reactions to the chaos.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

jogging bottoms and a lilo and stitch t-shirt or a game of thrones t-shirt, stich trainers, a stitch handbag and a sunflower lanyard.

Create a character description of yourself:

Fat non-binary person really into eating and crafting and loves to dye hair different colours, cannot see for shit without glasses and cannot drive.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Yes and no. All my characters are original, but sometimes my mother will suggest 'oh, write about our family, your nephews, the cats' ect and to be honest with you, ive never figured out how to fit them in, so i dont.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Oh yeah, absolutely. I will kill whoever I want to, whenever I want to. I'm not afraid to get violent with the deaths, but I gotta do it justice

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Tea, Hot Chocolate or different juices, depending what's in my reach and i'm interested in.

Slow or fast writer?

It depends on how motivated i am, when im not in writers block i can write 2k within like 2 hours

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

Everything - the books i read, the games i play, the music i listen to.Bad writing pisses me off real bad and I know I can do better

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

A librarian or writer completely done wih the city being destroyed by the supernatural but being really intrigued and trying not to die.

Most fav book cliche:

I cannot answer.

Least favorite cliche:

curing disabilities. like fuck off with that shit, give them their aids back and we dont need to cure autism, we're fine the way we are

Favorite scene to write?

all of them, i just cannot pick one thing i love. Its just... the whole process of writing that I love and I wouldn't change it fot the world

Reason for writing?

Because its a part of what makes me, me and i wouldnt have it any other way. I am a writer, its in my blood. I enjoy the creation, the creativity, the uniqueness of my own voice

#tag games #athena shepard wips #athena answers

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boochanz · 2 months ago

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THE BALI TRIP ruined my life fr. 2015 was crazy bc arzaylea (which is a deep dive on its own) + rolling stones cover and article + hey violet (i forgot why i thought they were problematic but i promise it was a good reason!) + bali and all their shitty friends (and there's so many of them!) + the fandom was imploding + and then they just disappeared 💀

like i was hit by devastation and then sometime in 2016 my dramatic 17 y/o ass couldn't take it anymore and i had to leave the fandom while still lurking thru blogs i followed. and then late 2016 svt saved me in my time of need <3

never regretted dropping 5sos then bc it clearly never got better lmaoo and the gossip was fun from the sidelines. and i enjoyed their music without the attachment

crystal is such an awful person, literally radiates nastiness. she has a history of friendships with very young adults and would use young girls in her escort service. she was 31 when she cheated with 19 y/o michael, but definitely knew him when he was at least 17 and actively tried to wipe her real age from the internet. my hot take is that she targeted michael from the beginning bc he had very apparent insecurities and she knew she could take advantage of him easily. and i don't even think he wrote those msgs in his insta channel tbh. it reeks of her work lol

ik like the gossip is fun, but at the end of the day, michael and lua are suffering the consequences of crystal's control and i really feel awful for them. i can only hope that michael realizes at some point, maybe when he's 31, how weird it is to date someone so much younger and more immature. and maybe he'll protect his child from being so overly exposed to the public.

maybe luke will also realize how weird it is that sierra jumped on him the second she had the chance when he was so vulnerable after an abusive relationship and still recovering. their age gap isn't as severe but it's still concerning when you consider the circumstances of how and at what point in luke's life they got together. which is also further proven by the toxic love songs luke has confirmed are about her

there really is sm to dissect, i've learned more than i should throughout these years lmaoo. calum is so interesting for never being as messy as the other 3... love that for him

i had COMPLETELY scrubbed the rolling stone thing from my mind oh my god u just activated something in me that’s so raven style

they were SO WEIRD and sleazy i was so so taken aback and disappointed. honestly i think they killed their own career a bit with that incident. they were so focused on looking cool that they came across as huge scumbags. they were HUGE at that time and their momentum declined significantly almost immediately after. michael and ashton’s literal ass cheeks touching aside, they honestly deserved it for that ao3 ass piece of ‘journalism’ … like the words ‘pop punk band’ and ‘fleshlight’ should never ever be in the same article.

absolutely never got better the last few years were sooo messy lmfao everytime i got back into them i regretted it 😭😭😭 i rmb losing my mind in 2021 when ashton tweeted that we need to save the planet and there was no such thing as sustainable fishing, so someone showed him some research about how indigenous people have been sustainably fishing for ages and how we could do it too only for him to respond with ‘2050 = no more fish In the sea’ LMFAOOOO LIKE WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM

what pisses me off is how they took nearly a year to say anything about palestine with fans badgering them to nonstop and when they finally did it was very much neutral both sides bullcrap. but michael can reply (or crystal can reply as michael) to things relevant to him in 14 hours 😭 do not like it!

ESCORT SERVICE????? you should see my face right now holy shit 😭 yeah he is almost certainly not writing most of his posts. i remember how the instagram broadcast channel he posted in was something she had been pestering him to make nonstop. she tried all kinds of things down to considering getting a new phone ??? bc he didn’t have the option to make it on his account. she literally said at one point ‘i keep trying to get him to make one’. she gives me the impression of being very controlling and i can see she is behind a lot of his content and decisions :/ if you look at his insta it’s probably 70% posts she’s tagged him in lmfao

i was reading on one of the confessions blogs that seems to be a lot of space between him and his parents lately which is so absurd and out of character bc they’ve been wildly supportive & he’s been very close with them. obviously shit can happen at any time but a pattern is a pattern and i truly hope she hasn’t intentionally distanced him from his support system 😬😬😬 even some of the members seem to not vibe with her which is very telling to me. there are a lot of things he does nowadays that i wouldn’t see him doing independently. i mean she literally sold exclusive photos of their wedding and even her labor to magazines whereas if it were up to michael i don’t think we’d even see lua’s face 😵‍💫

OBVIOUSLYYYYY i don’t know them personally and i could totally be wrong. but i do know that a lot more of his life gets shared post crystal, by crystal, than it did by his own choice before they met saur! call it pattern recognition….

luke and sierra are a fucking wild ride. i didn’t know they’d married that is. huh. something. i did some digging and found out she’s apparently weird and possessive about him and has to give him permission to take photos with fans? 😭 if i meet the member of a band ive somewhat liked for over a decade and his wife looks at him and goes ‘ok sweetie you can take a picture’ im flipping tables immediately. their relationship seems super toxic too oh brother

cal is …. in the grand scheme of things the least problematic. LMAO. aside from the fact that we’ve all seen him, uh, biblically… he doesn’t do much??? his ex gf is a super slimy person (apparently a lesphobe & transphobe, i vaguely recall her saying the n word but that also may have been sierra 😭😭😭 GOOD HEAVENS) but as of recent they aren’t together. i wanna say he had allegations of being in a cult ☠️ but there was no proof just speculation bc of a friend of his or something. i couldn’t even be bothered to look into it bc what do you mean CULT

the fact that a casual discussion about the things that have happened in their fandom space over the years quickly turns into a doctoral dissertation length analysis speaks volumes i fear ✋🏼

#answered 💌#robinico

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ghouldtime · 7 months ago

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As a fellow writer that tries to bring a little more variety to the COD tag, I just wanted to say thank you for talking about the problem in the fandom!

I only saw one other person other than me talking about it, and honestly, I was almost starting to think that I was the weird one for judging the romanticisation and fetishisation of abuse when so many people enjoy it.

Like, I'm all for writing whatever you want, even terrible topics, but... sensibly? I genuinely don't understand how someone could write about rape or abuse without treating it like the awful, disgusting thing it is.

I often get told that I just want to have the 'moral high ground' and that's why I say that, but that's not the point at all. We all enjoy characters that have done some questionable stuff, starting with the cod men themselves. I'm just... worried I guess, about how many people find abuse enjoyable to read.

I wish people would at least tag this stuff properly.

Anyway, sorry for ranting, I'm glad I found your blog! 🖤

Oh the anon coward crawled back into my inbox to flail onto their back and utter, "Superiority complex". That's it. That's all they have to say. What about it? Who knows. I'm assuming they're trying to imply that I have one but they didn't write anything else, so I'm just going with they like saying random words (going to start anon messaging people things like carbonated hot dog water with no context to leave them befuddled the rest of the day)

It's a HUGE problem that I've seen and I'm honestly sick of it. I legit can't open the basic tags without being hit with it. No matter what or who you block, more ALWAYS pop up. I'm not saying flat out "Don't write these topics altogether". Like, COD is a video game about war and killing people?? There's going to be awful shit. Ignoring that entirely is doing a great disservice and censoring writing just because a topic is uncomfortable is extremely counter productive.

Also, adding this, I literally never said don't write it at all - to the anons who came for me, you're just mad because you can't read and are being called out on turning something horrible into an attractive/hot thing.

I'm saying "write it sensibly with respect for the topic and the victims of it. It's not a fetish it's not something for you to play the good ol' meat fiddle too. Real thing that affects real people and what you're writing, even if it's fictional, DOES AFFECT THE REAL WORLD". Literally, not that hard. So what if I'm told I'm taking a moral high ground? Cause I, sorry let me put on my reading glasses-🤏 👓

I have the moral high ground because I don't fetishize rape, abuse, incest, sexual assault, stalking, and the other long list of actual crimes that people are apparently treating like they're kinks - because I'm saying to not treat them as sexy time things and to instead give them proper respect when you're writing them. That's supposed to be moral high ground???? If so, I'm alright with that.

You're not the weird one. This is just common sense and sometimes terrible things are so normalized in fandoms that it's just one big echo chamber so it keeps being said and done, and people keep repeating it, and it spreads and spreads. Like, I'm not the weird one for going "hey fantasizing about a man abusing a woman and finding it so attractive you write about it and turn it into smut is weird." At that point, that's not an intrusive thought, that's a WELL AND CONSCIOUS decision when you plop your hand down and start typing away at the keyboard. It's a conscious decision when you ignore the actual harm it causes and keep on writing it.

"Write whatever you want" doesn't mean that what you write will be free from judgement. I'm all for write whatever makes you happy, I don't give a shit there. But when it starts to affect ACTUAL people, yeah, then we have an issue and I'm going to speak up about it.

Also, I can't "Don't like don't read" BECAUSE ITS NOT TAGGED PROPERLY, no one censors properly. The mature censor for SEXUAL CONTENT is absolutely free to use. Half the time, you're just thrown head first in and you're like "oh, oh this is fetish stuff, this is really gross fetish stuff". Its just so blatantly posted, no proper tags, just flat out in your face. I just avoid tags all together now unfortunately but what else can ya do. It's exhausting to interact and look in that regard so I just don't

My blog will ALWAYS be free from that and will ALWAYS be a safe space for those who want to avoid it. Not going to change that nor am I ever going to back down or go back on my word here.

Sorry for all the heavy stuff recently y'all but this MATTERS significantly to me as a victim of some of the stuff aforementioned above. I'm not going into details but it's a thing very personal to me and it's absolutely INSANE of what is treated as okay/what is done and I'm never, ever going to be okay with the incorrect depiction of this shit and the blatant fetishization/romanticization of it

#ghouldtimetalks #i went on a rant there #but i do feel very strongly about this #ridiculous #i dont know why its so bad that im saying “uh hey maybe don't write stuff like that because thats really gross and is ccausing real harm”#this isnt addressed towards the people who write those things with respect/their due diligence #censoring topics completely is counter productive and helps no one #this is just directed towards the people who have it as a fun little thing to throw it in smut just cause

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blubushie · 1 year ago

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hiii u know who this is ;3 i have abad questions!!!

do u feel older or younger than u are?

whats ur favorite thing about urself?

if u could tell ur younger self anything what would it be?

would u rather float alone in space or float alone at sea?

what if aliens invaded the planet and they were hot

what bug have u eaten the most of (by accident?)

whats ur most justified paranoia?

if u had a year to live what would u do with it?

whats something u hate?

what keeps u up at night? (besides the obvious)

what do u do early in the morning when u should be sleeping?

whats the worst pain uve ever felt?

how high is ur pain tolerance?

whats the worst movie uve ever seen?

whats ur favorite piece of clothing?

whats an unpopular opinion u have?

whats ur earliest memory?

do u sing when ur alone?

we know uve taken them, but have u ever saved someones life?

what tattoos do u have?

Heh I do know who this is!! I've missed your lists :]

Do you feel older or younger than you are?

Probably younger. I'm 23 but more immature than my father and siblings were at my age. But I prefer calling it a "zest for life." ;]

2. What's your favourite thing about yourself?

Steady hands.

3. If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be?

Not everyone is trustworthy. Trust your gut.

4. Would you rather float alone in space or alone at sea?

Alone at sea. Waves are calming and help me sleep. Some of the best sleep I've ever had has been at sea.

5. What if aliens invaded the planet (and they were hot)?

I'd clap some alien cheeks, obviously.

6. What bug have you eaten the most of (by accident)?

Flies.

7. What's your most justified paranoia?

Everyone's out to kill, hurt me, or take advantage of me.

8. If you had a year to live, what would you do with it?

Return to Australia and immediately go bush so the government can't find me. Let me die out there where I belong.

9. What's something you hate?

Dumb teenagers who speed and/or tailgate. Also people who overtake and don't use their fucking indicators. But especially teenagers who speed and those that think speeding is cool/skite about speeding. Yeah, yeah, it's fun to go fast, do it when there aren't other fucking cars on the road so if you crash at least you only kill yourself instead of both of us. I've got places to be and I'd like to get there with my anatomy intact, cheers.

10. What keeps you up at night?

Memories of that time I was kidnapped and interrogated heavily for sixteen hours.

Also groceries. "You gotta to the shops tomorrow and get milk, and stop at the servo and get petrol, and-"

11. What do you do early in the morning when you should be sleeping?

Sleeping. I actually have a pretty healthy sleep schedule. I'm 23, my arse cannot pull all-nighters like it used to.

But if I'm not sleeping, I'm writing. Or lying in bed and trying to sleep.

12. What's the worst pain you've ever felt?

Toss-up between scarification for indigenous initiation ceremony and being partially disembowelled by an angry pig. The scarification was slower so the pain lasted longer and was worse mentally because I knew it was coming the whole time so had more than enough time to scare the shit out of myself, but I'd argue the Pig Incident was actually worse on the overall level of pain. Feeling something sharp moving inside your body is a special kind of weird.

13. How high is your pain tolerance?

Tolerance? High. I feel pain easy but I'm good at fighting through it and not letting it get the better of me.

14. What's the worst movie you've ever seen?

Pan Man. It's fucking hilarious. Terrible plot-wise and budget wise, but perfect in its hilarity and execution. It's my favourite "so bad it's good" movie.

15. What's your favourite piece of clothing?

Necklace.

16. What's an unpopular opinion you have?

Beer tastes better as tinnies over bottled. So does fizz. I don't know why but the carbonation holds better and it tastes more... crisp? It's just better.

17. What's your earliest memory?

Lying in a hospital bed when I was three, staring up at the lights in the room, because a plastic surgeon just sutured my left eyebrow back together after I fell face-first into the coffee table and busted it open. My mum was at work and my dad was supposed to be watching me, but he was on the phone and I was jumping about on the couch. She still hasn't forgiven him. The scar's not even noticeable unless you're close enough to see the lines of the stroma of my irises. So unfortunately I don't have a "cool" eye scar like the blokes do in the movies.

18. Do you sing when you're alone?

If I know the song and it's in my range and I'm in a good enough mood, yes.

19. Have you ever saved someone's life?

Yes.

20. What tattoos do you have?

I have a dingo tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. Sometime soon, maybe around the start of next month, I'm looking to get Kaz tattooed on my outer forearm from elbow to wrist.

#blu whos #abad

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banjjakz · 1 year ago

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"oh shit someones already figured it out" hehe i saw right through ur tricks LMAO just thought that gloomy yandere shoko would b Very hot (oh pretty neurotic woman w eyebags... u have captivated me). that was my argument. that one meme that says "my pussy has led me to places i wouldnt even go with a gun" HAHAHA

and abt final girl thoughts... squeezes ur gojo in my hand.... hes so dear to me, in all of his charming asshole and eldritch horror glamour. no cuz the way he chuckles and grins while demeaning reader !! he is not driven by pure love but by deeply rooted obsession, and its only suguru whos at its core- not reader. i love how neither gojo or reader respected each other despite their interactions taking place in the "gojo route". sure it is an otome route but you get no sweet lovin at all! you get literallyreduced to shreds, dissolved into particles scattered across the universe instead! sighs dreamily. anti-otome final girl fanfiction written by banjjakz youre so dear to me........

btw the gojo dsm comment took me out LMAO kinda unrelated but i know psychologists would NOT b welcomed in the jjk world lmao. the stigma around mental health matters between non-sorcerers pales in comparison to how a mental health professional would b treated by a higher-up, for instance. supposing ur goal is to have young sorcerers manage their negative emotions so that they dont go mental and die before they turn 18 then youre unfortunately getting executed for sabotage at best... i remember reading a yuuta fic in which it was mentioned that he had seen a psychologist after the rika incident. makes me wonder if thatd mean hes learnt (within that au) lets say breathing exercises and if he practises them whenever he gets anxious. every other sorcerer watching him like: https://www.tiktok.com/@androidg1rl/video/7291743972991503649

anyways sorry 4 rambling lolll thanks 4 writing final girlll loved it smmm and will be waiting for the secret endings eagerly :> !

no truly like serial bereavement was written for yuuta fans sure whatever but the actual intended audience is the #real sick and twisted individuals with a penchant for off-putting women who lowkey look like they'd be into consensual vivisection

"anti-otome" why am i obsessed with this label LOL wow this is really high praise anon like thank you???? crying.... we are inventing new genres of fiction over here..... just another day on banjjakz.tumblr.com

as for gojo's route, yeah, to be quite honest i can't in good faith imagine him in any lifetime or in any universe with anyone other than suguru. not even in a sappy stsg otp way, but like, just going off of my own personal notes of his characterization.... to me, pairing him with someone else -- even a self-indulgent MC -- would be egregiously out-of-character LOL. this was actually a point of writer's block for me as i was drafting final girl. like, i knew i wanted to tackle satoru. but i also knew there was no way i could convincingly or ethically produce a route where you were the object of his affections. had to take the cowards way out and have him kill you, lol, but at least we get lore? (more will be revealed in the final updates... i promise...)

KJHKSJDK mental healthcare in the sorcery world is actually insane like let's focus on physical healthcare and increasing the life expectancy first maybe

also if you'd like to slide the link to this therapized!yuuta fic.... [eyes emoji]

#memorial book #anonymous #sincerest apologies for the belated reply

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valleynix · 5 months ago

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I'm up to date 🥰 chapter 24 ✅️

1. 《Everything had been so… calm.》 That's dangerous

2. Pain💔😔 But well I'm biased. Miranda’s behaviour is a bit confusing tho, with how she almost killed them and then was nice and then put them in the Megamycete (tho she says it was to keep them safe. But well, not sane). She's a bit lost but like, she tried to be nice 😭 maybe there's still a chance 😔✋🏻

3. I LOVE THEM PLEASE

They're so silly and sweet. It's so nice to have Lunatic watch over Reader now 🥺

4. Miranda’s literally Reader's (evil) fairy godmother, watching them their whole childhood to ensure they'll grow up so she can experiment on them 😭

Now can she follow Maleficent and love them and save them please

5. Miranda I'll hold your hand while I tell you this, it won't work

6. The conflicting feelings are so real. Like sometimes as we learn more the situation turns out to be so far more complicated and complex

7. AAAAAAAAAAAA I always love those hugs in tptm

Also the moment when Dani joined and hugged them both and poor Cass was trapped 😭❤️

8. SOBBING this is so beautiful and that "I want you to live for me" hits hard

9. 《"Good." She sniffles a little as she glares at you. "Because I will find you in the afterlife and I will bring you back just to kill you again."》

I love this woman <3

10.

11. 《She’s so awkward that it’s almost sickening. How can someone like her be so bad at flirting?》

I love my loser, awkward Cassandra. My fav Cassandra out there.

12. It'd be wonderful news if it was their head bc even Red themselves could easily cut their own finger to do that just so they were thinking they're dead

But if it was this 《If Miranda had done it, was her leaving a finger her way of a truce? Hm. Maybe-》 then yay cool. Miranda out there leaving snacks and fingers of Reader’s enemies and like "are we good yet, little bird?"

13. Nice to have some peace after all the horrors of the previous chapters. At least it's balanced 😭 It was all so sweet. The Dimis being happy Reader’s back and Lunny being there.

The peace will end soon, probably, it can never last too long. So I'm awaiting the continuation and the horrors. It's good to be back at reading and it's good you keep writing it 🫶🏻 It's not a light story but tptm always brightens up my mood and the plot is so cool. It deserves to be the top re8 fic fr

SO EXCITED TO READ THIS. i’ve had a shit day and this just made it sm better ❤️

1. calm is never a good thing 😭

2. she’s trying </3 we have to remember that she’s very unsure of what to do and where to go from here. she’s been snapped out of that “trance” she’s been in for YEARS and is seeing the errors of her ways. not that she’ll ever apologize, but she’s trying.

3. THE SIBLINGS EVER. my favorite duo

4. yeah… she is a little fucked up 💀 but! at least that meant she could recognize when she was going too far… haha… ha…

5. Miranda, poor woman… listen to reason 😭

6. it’s hard knowing that someone is horrible and has done bad things to you, but then they start acting kinder?? and it’s genuine? and then you’re like… okay maybe i was wrong…? it’s very confusing and conflicting but it’s how a lot of people feel when faced with similar situations

7. MY FAVORITE HUGS. being in that group hug would fr cure me of all illnesses.

8. i was so afraid this scene wouldn’t make sense :’) because Cassandra is not a super emotional person and for her to cry?? she was so upset but i wanted her to be mad that she was showing how vulnerable she was 😭

9. romance at its finest

10. HER!!!

11. she’s such a dork and we love her for it LMAO

12. 🌝🌝

13. it actually won’t be TOO bad for a hot minute… the next chapter deals with some stuff and plot but it’s also got funny and soft moments. the heartbreak will come much later with- no, i shan’t say…

thank you so much for allowing me a peek into your mind as you read. it genuinely makes me so happy to see your favorite moments or ones that stuck out to you ❤️

#asks #this made my day #thank you <3

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months ago

Text

Oh, oh, oh, Beth… I fucking loved this way too much. You have absolutely no idea how much I laughed. My husband thought I was nuts 😂🫶

This series brought me literally so much joy and laughs. You’re simply amazing for writing it 🩵🩵🩵

He’d been de-aged, lost his memory, kidnapped in his car and had her chase him twice, so if anything, this shouldn’t be a surprise. This kind of shit always happened to Dean.

It does! It really does 😂

And omfg poor Sam is scarred for the rest of his life by the lewd images he’s seen. No one should see their roommates in this state, let alone their own brother 🙈 But I laughed throughout his trials (and fails) of text messages to Eileen, although I still believe the woman would have a good, long laugh about all of this, and if anything, would be chiding Sam for not providing her with all the goddamn gloriously embarrassing details 🤣

They were not calling Cas. Keeping Jack occupied was hard enough without another angel not understanding how consequential Dean and you having sex under a curse could be.

Bless him for trying to entertain the angelic toddler 😂

But I had a feeling as soon as Sam send little, naive Jack to check on the lions (in heat) in the den, that sneaky Dean would find a way to trick the poor kid. Oh, well, let the smutty goodness begin 😈🔥

And Jack’s whole monologue about the technicalities of sex just about killed me, jfc 🤣🤣🤣 (Plus that little bonus comedic moment of the kid being turned on by reader was just pure gold)

Yeah. Dean was proud of himself. Oh-ho, yeah, he was, and his smirk only grew wider as Jack’s footsteps trailed away.

You outsmarted a four-year-old, doofus. God, this man 😂

Seeing Dean’s junk, seeing you touch yourself, seeing an old wood nymph cry.

Snorted way too hard at Mrs. Butters crying and imagining Sam’s bitch face when he found her 🤣 He can’t catch a break, can he?

Wrapped in hugs? No. That thing, with its excessive amount of fabric, wrapped Dean up like a chastity belt

The fact he’s wearing the actual fucking purple nightgown throughout all of this hotness just adds an extra layer of hilarity I really appreciate lmao

“And you believed him?” Yeah, Sam was wrong. Cas might’ve been useful. At least he wasn’t so gullible.

True. Sam’s just straight up babysitting one toddler, two horny teens and a demented granny tonight 😂

“So that means Dean just needs to ejaculate inside her?” Jack chimed in before Sam could, seeming very proud of his speculation, and, yeah, that did it. Sam was going to bed. Part of him wanted to know why she’d done it, but he’d had enough.

Dead 💀

Least, it was for you. This all happened because of a stupid spell. Something well beyond your control. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to fuck you before all this. He’d never even made a move on you until now, and now didn’t count.

Why am I getting teary-eyed? 🥲

I’m so glad they worked it out, though. *sighs wistfully* idiots in love 😍💕

And I happily take a fourth serving of snickerdoodles! 🩵

Consequences for Mrs. Butters, though? Let her soak in a bathtub full of Dean’s cum for 24hrs while doing one of those eye doctor letter tests? 🤔 Yeah, that’ll do. I’m sure Sam will go for it at this point 😝

SNICKERDOODLES & SPECIAL SAUCE

Part 3: Good Things Come in Threes

Story Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: 'Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours... or ...Mrs Butters isn't just messing with Dean's underwear drawer. She's messing with your love lives, too. 18+ only

Word Count: 5.7k words (multiple POV)

Tags/Warnings: crack, friends to lovers, love potion, language, dubious consent, pining, eggnog, Mrs Butters is a terrible wingman, SMUT—————————————————————PART 1 || PART 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3

Part 3: Good Things Come in Threes

…and Dean have been hit by some kind of lust spell, the message read, but Sam hit the backspace, scrapping it all. He tapped that screen almost as fast as your finger had done under your panties when he—nope!! He wasn’t going there.

He couldn’t send a message like that to Eileen, either. It would just lead to more questions, and he didn’t want to think about the situation, let alone go over the details of it all. Didn’t matter that Dean’s arm pumping action was enough to douse any fire, now and in the future.

Yeah. Dean. It was better to tell her about him, so, Dean’s been cursed, he tried, leaving out the part about you being hit with it, too.

Only, what if it got out you had? What if someone let slip what the actual curse was, and how Sam had walked in on you both?

He sighed and erased the text again, typing out, Mrs Butters is missing, instead. It didn’t explain Dean desperately calling him away from their phone call, but it was the truth.

God. Why was this so hard?

Because it’s Dean, he chided.

He’d been de-aged, lost his memory, kidnapped in his car and had her chase him twice, so if anything, this shouldn’t be a surprise. This kind of shit always happened to Dean.

His thumbs hovered over the screen, still contemplating what he should type next, when Jack appeared in his peripheral, popping out from the junction in the long corridor.

He shuffled down the hall towards Sam with a worried look on his face. All that twinkled overhead, lighting up the stray pieces of glitter he’d caught on his forehead and cheeks.

If only the wood nymph had left a trail through the remaining sparkles on the floor. Little heel shapes would be mighty helpful to find her, but no. It’s like she’d vanished into thin air.

“Hey,” Sam said, and hit send. He was quick to add, Dean pissed her off, and sent it straight after. “Any luck?”

He looked up just in time for Jack to step into his personal space. His drained eyes, hopeful and ready to cling to any good news Jack threw his way. Anything was better than the fat-load of nothing he had to show for.

But, “No,” Jack said, brow creasing in the middle in concentration. “And I checked all the closets and opened all the cubicle doors just like you told me to. Maybe we should call Cas?”

They were not calling Cas. Keeping Jack occupied was hard enough without another angel not understanding how consequential Dean and you having sex under a curse could be.

“Yeah. No, ah. You know what?” Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket and rejigged his Taurus in his hand. “Why don’t you check on them? Make sure Dean’s ropes are still tight.” He found Jack’s eyes and gave him his best reassuring smile, ignoring the niggle in his gut that knew Dean was a flight risk and probably busted out already.

“What about you?”

Sam cocked his gun and patted Jack on the shoulder. “She came out when Dean hit the reset button. I’m gonna see if I can lure her out by shutting this place down.”

And with that, Sam left Jack, and Jack headed towards the library, a little apprehensive about going in alone. Being told to check the ropes, even though he could smite Dean if he wanted to, was no easy feat. He respected him a great deal.

He was strong, knowledgeable about the world, and had taught him a lot. They’d even got around to “the talk,” so Jack was also knowledgeable about what was happening in the bunker that night.

Dean’s body, not the spell.

No, Jack had no idea why everything was happening as it was.

Just the physicalities.

He knew all about courting and fucking and the differences and similarities between them. It was all thanks to Dean. They hadn’t covered masturbation because Dean had said, “he was better left on his own there,” but Jack understood the basics of what Dean was going through.

Blood was pumping through Dean’s penis. He’d busted his nut three times (Sam had stopped him on the fourth), and was still erect now. Oh. And in pain. Which was difficult to understand because Jack had only ever experienced an erection when he woke up and it had just gone away on its own.

But he also didn’t sleep much, and he shrugged, considering his options as he walked the halls to you.

He wanted to ask Dean what it felt like. He was curious about you too, but from their talk, he knew not to ask you anything relating to your breasts or your vagina. It was okay to ask your partner, but it wasn’t okay to ask someone you weren’t courting, dating, or fucking.

Right. Yes. That’s definitely what Dean had said.

Coming from the lower levels meant Jack came into the war room via the eastern corridor, on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Besides the vibrant tree, still littered underneath with presents no one was supposed to open yet, it was Dean he spotted first.

His legs, from his calves to his ankles, were tied to his seat and not outstretched, as you’d expect. There was no manspreading going on, as you would say, either.

No. He was far from his usual relaxed self, calling out Jack’s name in irritation. Unbeknownst that his attempt to hide his relief was thwarted by Jack’s keen senses.

Jack rounded the edge of the map table and stepped up the stairs with a patter and a frown. Losing the squeaks his sneakers made when moving from the polished floors to wood always disappointed him.

“Hello Dean,” he said back to the hunter, hand waving in greeting, before setting his sights on you.

You looked no better. Eyes half lidded. Chest heaving. The skin that dipped below the neck of your shirt was lined with sweat, and tracing the curves of your breasts made Jack’s stomach feel funny. It also made his throat dry.

Why did it do that?

He popped his ears. Tried clicking his tongue and swallowing, but neither helped and his voice came out croaky like a frog’s. “Sam asked me to check on you both.” He rubbed his lips together.

“And where is Sam?” Dean asked. His sarcasm wasn’t missed. “Have you found her yet?”

“No. But he’s going to try the boiler room.”

An ominous clank cut Dean off mid eye roll. The lights cut him off, too. Well, the lamps and ceiling ones around the library and beyond in the halls did, but not Mrs Butters’ Christmas tree. It shone brighter. Rivaled only by the baubles, looped, and still blinking, ‘round the balustrades and staircase.

You could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for the train’s whistle and Dean’s groan. “For the love of… What’s he planning to do?”

“Reversing you doofuses letting her out, obviously,” you said with a wheeze, and Jack decided it was time to get to work on the ropes. He did not want to be here any longer than he needed to be.

Dean was angry. You weren’t much better, but you were the best choice to start checking. The low lighting thankfully covered your breasts, but it wouldn’t for long. “She’s nowhere to be found.” He pulled on the ties that held your arms in place. “Sam thought she might appear if he tried restarting her.”

“Restart,” Jack felt Dean’s aura flare. He heard the blood as it pumped through his veins. “Okay, you know what? Jack, you need to untie me right now.”

“I can’t do that, Dean.” He wouldn’t. Sam had told him to check the ropes and make sure Dean was secured, and it was imperative that he did. “Sam said you two needed to stay separated.”

“And Sammy needs your help more than we do. Angel trumps wood nymph.”

“But I’m a nephilim.” And he was very confused.

“Yeah. Okay, sure. Son of Lucifer,” Dean quipped, but soon changed his tone to one of pleading. “Look. We’ll behave, alright? I promise.”

He promised? Dean never promised. At least he never used the word itself. He hadn’t exactly promised when he’d said they’d have the talk, and he’d kept his word then, so maybe it would be okay?

“She’s not looking too good there, Jack,” Dean added, and it was true, you weren’t.

Your breathing was slow and shallow. A sheen of sweat covered your forehead on top of your breasts now, and Jack could feel the heat radiating off of your body.

“Speak for yourself,” you said, but it was so quiet and lacking your usual pep, Jack’s stomach flipped. His mind did, too.

He stood tall and turned to face Dean. His eyes narrowed as they had when he’d questioned Sam’s plan in the first place.

He could trust Dean, couldn’t he?

Yes. Yes. Of course he could, and he nodded. “I’ll go back to Sam,” he said, and without even checking on Dean’s arms, rushed away to the boiler room to help there. Mrs Butters needed to be found, after all.

In his haste to be useful, however, even though he’d been reading both your auras; even though he’d heard Sam’s spiel about how dangerous the situation was; Jack was oblivious to the smirk that graced Dean’s face the second his back was turned.

Yeah. Dean was proud of himself. Oh-ho, yeah, he was, and his smirk only grew wider as Jack’s footsteps trailed away.

He’d been working on the ropes since the moment Sam had left the room. In control enough to know you were off limits, not enough that he could stay here any longer. Nope. He’d been watching your rack, too, though unlike Jack it’d been more than a few seconds, and he was not going there with you. Not when he’d probably come the second his dick got wet.

He had a reputation to uphold. That and you’d never let him live it down, knowing you. He’d be the butt of your jokes for as long as he lived.

So, rather than bothering to talk or check in with you, he let his dick and its needs lead. As soon as Jack left, he got back to it, shimmying his wrists back and forth, only it wasn’t doing much good.

Stupid nightgown. Why the hell hadn’t he put on his jeans and jacket? Oh right. Because then it would’ve chafed. Caught on fire like flint and tinder.

Screw this. The floor was below him and with enough force, he’d break the chair just like he’s done in Texas. Sam and Jack wouldn’t notice that with all the concrete, rebar and wiring layered between them and him, giving Dean plenty of time to escape. Plus, the boiler room was at the other end of the joint.

Perfect!

He tested the waters, pushing his toes into the polished wood below them, and when he was certain he wouldn’t add injury to the insult, he braced himself.

‘Okay,’ he breathed out a puff of air. ‘You can do this, Deano.’

Huh. Deano? Your nickname for him was cute, but why the hell was he using it? He was gonna count to three, but after that he gave up and just went for it.

He gripped the right arm of his seat and swung himself to the left, lifting the leg an inch if he was lucky. Shouldn’t have had that second helping of turkey or ham.

He sighed louder than the first time, eyes flicking to you when he realised you’d said nothing since Jack left. Not even a squeak of surprise at the thump he’d made.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” He had trouble pulling himself away from your rack to your chin. “Sweetheart?” he tried again, and a small choke answered him.

You see, while Dean was doing alright, you weren’t so much. It was bad enough Sam’d tied you up, but leaving you smack bang across the table from him was the stupidest, most inconsiderate thing Sam had ever done.

You were going to kill him. You were no longer sorry Mrs Butters had told you his business. Eileen deserved her privacy. Sam did not.

Just being in Dean’s presence had doubled the pain. You thought it was excruciating before? Hah! Think again.

You’d dropped your head just to avoid his sultry gaze. A mix of concern and dilated pupils you’d mistake for him being high had it not been seeing him equally affected by whatever she’d done to you.

“It hurts, De.”

Your white knuckles and sweaty palms held on too tight to the arms of the chair. Damn. That Pink song knew a thing or two, even if the lyrics and your body had differing opinions.

You didn’t want Dean to blow you one last kiss. No. Oh no. You’d settle for blowing him, or better yet, him blowing his warm breath over you because everything was on fire. The depths of your panties, the worst. The stiff wood under your ass and your pyjama shorts weren’t doing nothing for you. Neither were your knees rubbing together.

“Would you quit it?” Dean growled, and the echo went straight there.

A shiver. A trickle. A shock? Whatever it was, your cooch clenched tight to trap it and you had to stifle the moan you almost couldn’t.

Fuck. Your head wanted to explode. Your front teeth bit so darn hard into the meat of your lower lip, they grazed the bottom set below them.

“It really hurts,” you said again, as if saying so was the magic chant you needed to tell the spell uncle.

“Yeah, well. You squirming like that ain’t exactly a picnic for me, either.”

The gravel in his voice had your head flicking back up. It moved to follow his staring at your boobs.

Your nipples, unlike in the kitchen earlier, were now visible through your sleep shirt. Hard and perky. You’d be insulted, but all you saw besides the lights flashing in the other room was a dick on legs, and what it could do for you.

Those fingers of his, just below the ledge of the table. Those lips, pink and plump, rivaled only by his tongue that swiped over them, could wrap around the girls any day, and, “Fuck.” Your body shuddered through the long squeak it released, elongating the word even further, like a balloon neck still pinched tight.

Nothing. There was nothing you could do to make this better. Had the knots not tied you to the chair, you’d have crumpled in a heap on the floor, shuffling and moaning. Probably would’ve pissed yourself by now.

The pressure was severe enough, and your head dropped once more. Shoulders rising and falling beside your neck as you pulled the air back into your lungs with deep breaths.

“Hey. You okay?”

No. No, you weren’t. Your body needed physical stimulation. You knew it, Jack knew it, and you’d settle for a brush of Dean’s pinky finger against your own at this point.

His fingernail. The hair at the end of his knuckle. The cool metal of his 1911 would get him and you both off if you were smart about it.

So you fluttered your lashes and let the tips fan your cheeks. Your eyes peeked through them with your best wanton gaze. “There must be something you can do,” you said. “If you get us out, I’ll scratch your back, and maybe you can scratch mine?”

Not only did you hope that would get Dean’s attention, you sure as hell fucking meant it.

And you got it.

His cock twitched below his nightgown. A bead of cum spilled out from its tip, and Dean planted his feet on the ground and tried rocking again.

To the left, to the right, adrenaline was an amazing thing. Each new lift of the chair legs had him swinging and swaying, and the floorboards making god-awful sounds. But then inertia gave way and kinetic energy kicked in, and Dean’s right arm and shoulder pummeled into the floor with a thump.

His funny bone twanged. His throat gave a grunt. His dick bobbed up and down. It re-pitched the tent in his purple polyester blend the second he bounced back, tall and proud.

Fuck yeah! He was free, and scrambling on his bow legs to free you, too.

“You really wanna?” His question trailed off as you licked your lips. Your eyes, drawn to the tent of his giant hug.

He’d be insulted, but his small brain and actual brain were fighting for dominance. That moan you made when his pinky grazed your thigh was porn for his ears, and with the added ambiance, your face belonged in one. But did you just?

Wow. Well, if that didn’t do it for a guy (or girl), he had some questions. He’d barely touched you.

Screw Miss January. Mrs Butters could get stuffed like her turkey. He was gonna fuck you if you were going to let him, and his lips found their way to yours, crashing down with force and heat, before you could say no.

They seared, unrelenting, not letting you leave your seat. He’d jump you like a dog, but he wasn’t that far gone. Or was he?

Chuck. Fuck the spell. Mrs Butters had done him a favour. He’d die happy if that’s what this was. Satisfied with the taste of you on his tongue. The power he had over you with just his fingertips.

He just had one question - could he keep it?

No! Absolutely not, if Sam had anything to say about it. This night was the worst.

Seeing Dean’s junk, seeing you touch yourself, seeing an old wood nymph cry.

Oh yeah, he’d found Mrs Butters. Or rather, she found him, having apparated before him the second he shut the power off. She now stood in the corner, cowering, her hoot high in pitch when Sam pulled his gun on her, beady eyes only likening her more and more to an owl as they widened in terror.

You were right about her making a mean Merlin, or whatever his name was, but Sam was at his wit’s end, and about ready to shoot.

“So it was you?” His gaze pierced those peepers of hers back, finger trembling on the trigger of his Taurus. Unaware of what might happen if he shot at her. Very aware not to show it.

He should’ve checked the lore.

But then she dropped her head into her hands, remorseful or conniving, Sam wasn’t sure, and “Yes,” she said. “But it wasn’t supposed to do this…and…and—”

“And what?” Sam’s nostrils flared.

“It’s too late.”

And it was.

Too late to stop you, that is.

Dean had you on your feet and you were walking. Hands grabbing, fingers caressing, your bodies stepping in time like a practiced dance.

Through the halls he led you, lips nibbling and sucking your neck, your collarbone, the top of your cleavage. Wherever he could reach, he attacked, and wherever he went, you welcomed. Your hips and pelvis especially.

Yes, you undulated against him while your hands fumbled with his nightgown. His bedroom door slammed shut behind you, but you were too busy to bat an eyelid. Wrapped in hugs? No. That thing, with its excessive amount of fabric, wrapped Dean up like a chastity belt, protecting him from you and your aching heat from him.

It still burned. Still throbbed. Sweaty palms and fingertips, leaving prints that’d put crime-scene investigators outta their job if they used it for evidence. Not that he cared. He was too busy helping you with your clothing.

Your shirt, your shorts, he pushed you forward and soon had your lust-drunk-ass tumbling onto the memory foam of his bed with a bounce and grin from ear to ear. And when he pulled that lilac monstrosity off and over his head himself, he gave you little warning or vantage to take a decent peek at that part of him. You sure felt it, though.

Dean pinned you beneath him and pushed a knee flush between your legs. Anyone would think you were going somewhere, but you weren’t. Your pussy lips spread open wide, trying to draw him in.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck.

Fuck indeed. It was all too much. The length of him glided over your hip, electrifying everywhere it touched. You’d gone from seeing it, to feeling it, hard, hot and more than ready for you in a matter of hours. You’d tear apart into a million pieces if he didn’t tear you with it soon.

So, without a word, your arm snaked its way between your bodies to grip him, experimenting with a soft tug or two, pleased when he grunted under your touch.

You’d high five yourself, but your hands were busy and you didn’t have the resolve to stop. Neither did he.

No. There was no checking in. No questioning. Who cared if you were on birth control or not? He just pulled up, shifted himself to claim your lips, and prodded your lower ones with his blunt tip.

Your sloppy kisses struggled to return his intensity, more focused on pulling him closer and encouraging him to move by opening your legs even wider, hooking your ankles over his. You really were a floozy, and Dean only exemplified it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I can’t,” he said against your chin, before snapping his hips forward with a groan that rumbled straight up your spine.

Just as his pinky had left your panties a mess, that one thrust was all it took. Your inner walls spasmed ‘round him. The rest of you clung where you could as he set his pace, chasing the high Sam had interrupted two hours ago.

Your muscles contorted; skin tingled. Your back arched off the mattress. But even though you’d just come, your clit, your cunt, your whole being demanded more. Fingers dragged down Dean’s back, scraping, raking down and around to knead the soft flesh of his ass.

“Oh god. Don’t do that. I’m not gonna—”

But it was too late. His mouth opened into a tightened O and ropes of his cum painted your insides. Each throb pulsing against your still clenched walls.

“Shit.” He panted, chest heaving against yours. “I never blow that quick.” He swallowed, then grunted. The primality of it, the sexiest damn thing you’d ever heard.

“Me either.” You huffed. He’d given you two orgasms with little foreplay. Hell, you hadn’t even spoken. That had to be a record for any girl, not to mention he’d come, what, four times himself? The guy was over forty, and still his flesh burned molten hot.

Then again, so did yours.

You let go to star-fish underneath him, rolling your neck backwards into the pillow to draw air into your lungs. “You, ah, you good?” you asked. Though why you bothered when even Dean, with his world-renowned game and prowess, couldn’t break the spell, was beyond you.

“Are you?” He cocked his brow.

“It’s manageable,” you said, which was better than no.

Of course, Dean looked down at you. His eyes searched for the truth. He found it too, when he gave up on your top half to watch between you, drawing another couple of slow pumps in and out.

“Manageable, huh?” He chuckled at your whimper. Even gave you a devious wink. “Think you can manage switching positions?”

Sam wished he could switch positions, too.

No, not like that.

Thankfully, he wasn’t aware of what was going on behind Dean’s door. Well, no, that’s not true. He did. He stood above the evidence you’d left behind in the library, put two and two together, and now stood, staring dumbstruck at the broken seat.

Why did he bother?

“I told you to check the ropes,” he said to Jack, who was looking mighty sheepish. Of course, Sam should’ve known he’d been rather quick returning to the boiler room.

“Dean promised he—”

“And you believed him?” Yeah, Sam was wrong. Cas might’ve been useful. At least he wasn’t so gullible.

He thought.

Honestly, Sam could only scoff. His grin, wide in disbelief, as he stretched thumb and pointer over his eyes.

Blowing his brains out would be easier. Then he wouldn’t have to face your wrath when you realised what you’d done. Screw Dean’s. Though he guessed it was in his best interests to fix things.

“Okay.” He turned to Mrs Butters, cuffed and still looking sorry for herself. Whether the cuffs worked on her was another matter altogether. She hadn’t fussed about them at least. Though her beady eyes still stared into the depths of his soul as if this was all his fault. “Say you did it right. What was supposed to happen?”

“Does it matter? Aren’t you going to stop them before th-th-th-they—”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. Even you said it was too late.” Though she’d made it sound like you were going to die.

He tucked his gun into the waistband of his sweats so as not to be tested. “But if you want to,” his arm stretched out wide in the general direction of room eleven, “Be my guest.”

Like Mr Bean and his incompetence or Mr Magoo, well past his prime, she’d messed up the love potion, not him. He couldn’t be held responsible for what you guys did because of too much henbane from a housekeeper who needed glasses.

Her thrill was less impactful. Her whole body shuddered. The woman, old-fashioned and teetering on sexist, was more disgusted than Dean was going to be once he learned he’d lost his free will to food.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Then sit.” He pointed at her, then at the table. His other hand ran through his hair, waiting as she did what she was told with a slow step and a pout.

“So will it wear off?” Jack asked over his shoulder, and honestly, Sam didn’t know what to say.

He was tired. His experiences with love spells sealed shut years ago for good reason, so unless he looked up the lore or called Rowena, he was leaning along the path of, was it fatal and could it be left until morning?

But Mrs Butters whimpered. “A kiss would have made or broken the spell,” she said.

As much as he hated to admit it, he and Mrs Butters were on the same page as Jack. If her beet-red cheeks were anything to go by, you’d both be fine come morning, assuming Dean had enough juice left.

Embarrassed, yes, and ready to kill Mrs B. But maybe, just maybe, dare he say, you’d be happy about it? He would when she was gone.

Dean was still oblivious to the mystery being solved, still seated in your sweet heat. Sure, he was doubting how much longer he could keep it up, but the squelch was heavenly. You, on all fours before him now, crying in pleasure with your continued eagerness for him to touch and taste you; he wondered if you’d do it again? Or was this a onetime thing?

“That’s it,” he drawled, trying not to let thoughts of what happened next bother him. He watched himself push in and out. Watched his spend and your juices mix and get pushed back inside, too, savouring the sight for his mental spank bank. This one would be a treat.

“Give me another one,” he cooed.

“Listen to your own advice,” you clapped back, and he fucking loved it.

He reached around to your clit and thumbed the now over-sensitive bud, proud of himself yet again when your body betrayed you.

You squirmed on his cock, and he was spilling into you with more ropes of his special sauce soon after. Your sweet pussy gripped him like a vise.

Yeah, that joke was long past its use-by date, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to use it.

He pulled you in close and rolled you over before he could fall on you, exhausted, keeping you flush against him. A sheen of sweat, the only division between. Whatever the old bitch had done, if she was out to get you, he’d deal with it, but he’d also thank her, maybe…it depended on what happened here with you.

“You good?” He cursed the croak in his voice, but if you noticed his moment of weakness, or the repetitious irony, you said nothing towards it, first answering with a contented hum.

“It’s manageable.” You chuckled, wheezing when he gave a soft slap to your ass cheek. “Okay, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“But you’re still hurtin’?”

“Just chafing.”

You shook your head, and Dean frowned, raising himself on his elbow to lean over you. His dick slipped free, although with the sight of your rack before him, it wouldn’t take long.

“You wanna make a run for the showers? Get cleaned up?” He might even consider getting you ice from the kitchen, though he couldn’t see that helping when he shuddered at the thought of putting some on his junk.

At first you were silent. Eyes refused to look back up at him. He felt your heart pick up its pace. The tightening movement in your limbs and chest, too, before you’d even moved.

“Guess I should get outta your hair,” you said, sitting up, and Dean was foolish to let you. Or maybe just a genius. A stupid one, but a genius nonetheless, recording more footage to his brain for further use, because it looked like he was going to need it.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He stood up, too, not caring that little-Dean was also on display.

He strode over to where you stood, drawing you in with a hand on both hips. His fingers traced the marks they’d left earlier, electrifying your skin all over again.

“No. No.” You took a step back. “It’s okay. It’s weird, right?”

But his hands gripped your flesh tighter. Bound to indent the little calluses you’d discovered on his hands the further you got throughout your evening. Your overused cunt even fluttered with interest when he said, “Only if you keep walking away.”

His eyes darted to the floor, and yours followed.

Oh god. You’d left a trail of cum there. One large dollop even hung just below the edge of your slit. Now you really wanted to die.

Your hand tucked down into your folds, slipping through the mess you’d both made. “How many times did you—”

“Three,” he boasted.

“And before we?” Your free hand, not holding everything in, swept the air between you.

“Three.”

Oh god. Even on birth control, you weren’t taking the risk if three times one way and three the other meant making stuff with love. You searched his eyes and found them, still wearing his cheeky grin. “First thing tomorrow, you’re taking me to a pharmacy.”

“Why?”

“To get Plan B.”

“You’re not on anything?” His voice hitched.

“Course I am!” Living a hunter’s life? You’d be stupid not to. “And now that my heads screwed on, I ain’t risking it given the circumstances.”

Dean blinked and flicked his head down. “What? you think my special sauce is extra special now?”

“That’s not funny.”

Fuck! You needed a shower. An actual douche would be better. But unless Mrs Butters’ boys had vaginas and kept them in the infirmary with all the other outdated equipment, one of those was coming from the pharmacy, too.

You looked to Dean in horror, expecting to see mirrored panic. Expected him to at least hide the pearly whites in his mouth, but no, those lips of his flattened into a thin line. One that curled on the end.

“Okay. Would you relax?” he said.

“Don’t tell me to relax. You’re not full of,” you couldn’t say those two words again. Cum seemed worse outside the act. Baby gravy? Jizz? Spunk? Oh god.

“I made it!” And he looked insulted, too. “Look, I’ll take you first thing, alright? But we’ve still got a few hours before they open.”

You didn’t miss the wag of his brows or the suggestive tone that further accompanied the suggestion to relax, either. Typical Dean. He’d just been up close and personal with your cunt, yet he struggled to open up.

“We’re past the awkwardness, don’t you think?”

“Look who’s talking.”

He had a point, but the phrase just brought on memories of babies sounding like Bruce Willis, and that ship needed to set sail. So when those calloused hands of his grazed your skin further to grab the globes of your ass, your body and mind welcomed them. Yup. Floozy.

He pushed you flush against him, much like he had throughout the night. Fingers embedded into flesh from both sides. His lips, no longer tasting of cinnamon and snickerdoodles, pressed into yours with the taste of him and you. The squelch, more delectable than anything made down below.

“I gotta sink right there,” he said between kisses. “Plenty of clean shirts.” He chuffed through another. “Wanna stay the night?”

And what did your floozy do?

Yeah. She agreed.

She didn’t even need to think hard about it. Better leaving hardness to other things. Yes, he was crude. Yes, he liked to wear his underthings inside and out, but the man had already reeled you in with an oversized purple nightgown. And the way he made his special sauce.

Or should you thank Butters for that?

PART 1 || PART 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3—————————————————————There was another scene on the end there, but it didn’t feel like a satisfying conclusion when I was getting ready to post so I scraped it last minute which means - there might be a part 4? Mrs Butters needs some consequences right?

Leave it with me 😉 Coming next:

To You I Belong - 21/02 🇦🇺🕕

Omegaverse - Soulmate AU - Pregnancy (x reader) Dean isn’t looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to find the one meant for him is on the job. But it’s not the monsters he hunts that you need rescuing from. It’s someone closer to you. (Dual POV) 18+ only MDNI This one is darker than the other things I’ve been posting and might not be suitable for everyone - pls check the warnings in the series Masterlist (link above) final word count unknown 20 parts + timestamps—————————————————————DEAN TAGLIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2

SNICKERDOODLES UPDATES:

@happyfxckinghorrors @bitchykittenconnoisseur

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my work, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

#wayne reads #fic rec #amazing writers 🤍#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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writethrough · 2 years ago

Note

Hello ^^

I saw that your requests are open, so if its okay may I ask for a Eddie Munson x reader? In which reader is trying to escape Vecna but the music stops, so Eddie continues it by singing it for her?

Track Two

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Warnings: Vecna, mutual pining, angst, mean Eddie for a hot sec

Word Count: 2863

A/N: Holy shit, I did not think I'd get this done before the new year. Thank you so much for your patience! This is my first Eddie fic so I really wanted it to be at its best! I loved writing his character and I look forward to doing more in the future. I hope you enjoy!

*featuring "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac*

You had just returned from your accidental visit to the Upside Down. After Steve was pulled in, it didn’t take long for the rest of you to follow. You hadn’t thought it could be more frightening than the first time you were there, but you were wrong. The red flashes of thunder, the vines covering nearly every surface, the knowledge that Vecna could pop up at any minute? It terrified you.

You’d never been so thankful to be back in Eddie’s trailer. Still, your second home felt far from that with the gate in the ceiling.

You had to focus on the positives: you were all safe, relatively—Max was nowhere near out of the woods. Eddie was with you—you could tell he was on edge, but when he met your gaze, he seemed to relax a little. At least he wasn’t alone in that boat house anymore. And you were on your way for supplies. If Vecna wanted to try and take one of you, you weren’t going down without a fight.

Eddie sensed that you were going too deep into your thoughts, so he knocked your knee with his.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, leaning close, his shoulder touching yours.

The corner of your mouth tugged upward. “They’re worth a nickel, actually.”

He whistled. “Wow, inflation’s no joke.”

You giggled—leave it to Eddie to make light of a dire situation.

“There it is,” he said softly, glancing from your mouth back to your eyes.

You rolled them. “Yeah, yeah, you and your dumb jokes.”

“I thought that was pretty clever.” He pouted.

You pushed your shoulder against his lightly. “Wasn’t bad.”

He pushed back. “So, you gonna tell me what’s up?”

You sighed. “Just…thinking.”

“Don’t,” he urged. It still surprised you how well Eddie knew you, even after all these years. It was like he could read your mind. Which, given that El existed, isn’t too far-fetched.

“Can’t help it.” You gave him a sad smile. “Not when all this shit is affecting you now.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll both be. Long as we have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah.” You tried to sound convincing. “We’ll be fine.”

He wished he could wipe the doubt on your face away. But this wasn’t one of his campaigns that he could erase and start from scratch. This was…This was unbelievable.

Your head tilted, eyes narrowed as you stared at the RV wall.

“(Y/N)?” Eddie asked. “You okay?”

You inhaled sharply, not daring to look away.

“I see it,” you whispered.

His brow furrowed. “See what?”

“The clock.”

—

You had stayed in the RV with Eddie and Dustin, trying to keep your hands from trembling. They tried to convince you everything would be okay, that they would kill Vecna before he could touch you. But their voices muffled as you lost yourself in every scenario.

When your group had piled back in, it was decided you’d make a quick stop at your house to pick up your favorite song and cassette player. None of it registered, though. You were too consumed with your imagination to hear anything they said.

You pulled up in front of your house, both of your parents at work. Eddie led you, Steve, Nancy, and Robin through the front door. Nancy had ordered the kids to stay there. She knew your dad kept survival tools in the basement and figured it couldn’t hurt to have a few more weapons and maybe a first aid kit.

She and Steve went to get that stuff as the rest of you went to your room.

Eddie was hesitant to leave your immediate side.

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly. “Look at me, please?”

You did. Those pretty brown eyes did little to warm you like they usually did.

“We’ve got this,” he said. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

You nodded slowly, not quite believing him.

“Hey,” he grabbed your hand, “I mean it.”

His hand in yours drew you back to reality. He always had this innate ability to make you feel better—to make you feel like you weren’t alone. It was one thing that never ceased to impress you. He had never not been there for you.

“Thank you,” you said. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His lips tilted up slightly. “I do.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head.

“You’d let me take the fall for the murders.”

Your eyes narrowed. “...What are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “If you didn’t know me, you’d believe I was the one who killed everyone. You’d think I was a murderer, too.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, Eddie. I could never think that. Not even if we weren’t friends.”

“You can tell yourself that, but it doesn’t change the truth,” he said, sliding his hand to your wrist.

“Why…Why are you saying all this?” You wanted to rip your arm away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to stay put.

“Because it’s the truth,” he said. “Even if you’re not ready to acknowledge it.”

His voice deepened.

You blinked.

And when you opened your eyes, your room was gone. Eddie was gone.

And Vecna had taken his place.

—

The beginning of your senior year was a week away. The beginning of Eddie’s second attempt to graduate had him anxious. And when that happened, he fidgeted. And when he fidgeted, it was usually through your stuff.

“I need to get you some real music,” he said, pushing aside whatever cassette he was holding.

“I need to get you some real taste,” you quipped, glancing up with a smirk.

He faced you, hand clutching his chest and mouth agape. “Ow!”

You giggled. “Just pick something! You may like it.”

He scrunched his nose. “I may have to if your stash doesn’t get any better.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint tapping of cassette case against case created a rhythm. You were unconsciously moving your foot to it when it stopped.

“Now this, I can get behind.” He held up one of your Fleetwood Mac albums, promptly putting it in your stereo.

“Play track two,” you said, closing your eyes.

The opening notes to the song filtered through the air as Eddie lay beside you, arms brushing.

“You ready for next week?” he asked quietly.

“Physically or mentally?” You turned your head to him.

He shrugged. “Both.”

“I guess. Just not ready for what comes after.” You were always comfortable around Eddie. He didn’t judge you for what you wore or how you acted. You told him everything. Well, almost everything.

He didn’t need to know your feelings for him. They were better kept in a box deep within your heart. You didn’t need to complicate something that was already near perfect.

“I get that,” he said, lying on his side. “I just hope I’ll have those anxieties with you.”

You gave him a soft smile. When he got the news about repeating senior year, he was more frustrated than you’d ever seen him. He wanted to get out of Hawkins, make a name for himself besides “The Freak,” and play music for whoever would listen.

He had come to your house afterward and worked himself close to tears with his head in his hands. You didn’t know what to do, so you talked to him about everything you’d do together as seniors—how you both had another year to be “kids,” so to speak. And that seemed to calm him down. He was just happy he had you with him, a thought he would express many times throughout the coming school year.

“I’ve got you, Eds,” you said, squeezing his fingers.

He gave you a grateful smile. “I know.”

—

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eddie panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked as she and Steve arrived in your room. Your whitened eyes were enough of an answer.

“Get her song!” Steve urged, looking at Eddie already searching through your music.

He let out a string of curses. “I forgot she told me she needed a new one!” He held up the cracked cassette. You accidentally dropped it when switching it out and didn’t have the heart to throw it away before you got another.

“What do we do?” Robin asked.

“Does she have another favorite song?” Steve moved to help rifle through your collection.

“She’s literally been listening to this for years! I don’t think she knows other songs exist!” Eddie said, gripping the roots of his hair.

It had been on whenever he saw you. If it came on while you were hanging out in his room listening to the stereo, you turned it up. You threw it in when he’d pick you up. The only reason he knew the song was because of you. The only reason he could sing every word of it was that—!

Eddie scrambled to get as close to you as possible. Standing so he could hold your biceps and look into your whitened eyes.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“I’m gonna sing it,” Eddie said, trying to pump himself up.

“Do you think that will work?” Eddie could hear the doubt in Nancy’s voice.

“It’s the only shot she has,” Eddie said.

This was his best friend. The person he went to with his campaign ideas, when he needed comfort, or when he passed a test—really anything. You had always been there for him. No matter what was going on in your life, if he needed you, you were there. Now, it was his turn.

This had to work—he had to save you. He didn’t want to imagine how he’d make it through life without you. You were it for him. He had a feeling since he spotted you in the hallway wearing a Black Sabbath shirt. Then, he knew for sure when you cussed out Jason Carver for being “the dumbest douchebag with the longest stick up his ass” when he wouldn’t quit harassing Eddie.

His time with you was his favorite. Whenever you weren’t around, he wondered when he could see you again. He’d do anything to make you laugh. He’d do anything to protect you.

He inhaled deeply, slowly nodding to the beat in his head, and then, he sang.

“Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom…”

—

Red lightning flashed all around you, Vecna’s voice the thunder.

“It will be over quickly,” he said, the wet squelch of his feet getting louder.

Vines tightened around your wrists and ankles, pulling you taut against the trunk of them behind you.

You tried to surge forward, to rip them off and run, but your muscles burned, and it hurt to breathe. This was it. Vecna was already so close. There was no way Eddie or the others would save you, especially without your song.

You wanted to smack yourself for not replacing it. You would die because of one little choice to leave it to another date.

At least you got to spend your last few hours with Eddie. Even if it was preparing for Vecna, you still got to be near him—you got to talk to him one last time. You only hoped he’d remember you as you were and not the broken pile you’d be once it was all over.

You hoped his name would be cleared, he’d graduate, and he’d live out his biggest dreams. And stay safe. You just needed him to be safe.

As Vecna stood before you, you settled on an image of a smiling Eddie, that big grin he’d give you when he wanted to play you a song he taught himself. It only widened when you applauded as if you were in the front row of one of his concerts. You could almost hear him saying, “Prettiest audience I’ve ever played for.”

…

Wait…

…You could hear his voice.

But he wasn’t being his cheesy, flirty self.

…He was singing.

“...Well, who am I to keep you down…”

Your song. He was singing your song!

With Eddie’s voice, the air in your lungs fueled you. It was enough distraction for Vecna to glance over his shoulder as a portal opened. That was all you needed.

The vines loosened, or maybe you had a surge of strength. Next thing you knew, you were running. Running toward the portal, running toward your friends, running toward Eddie, standing right in front of you, and singing.

“You can not escape me, (Y/N),” Vecna said, sending the vines after you.

But you barely heard him. All you could focus on was Eddie’s voice and how each lyric sunk deep into your bones and propelled you forward.

The vines gained on you.

Your feet were sore.

He was right there.

You reached out, and the shimmering tickled your fingertips as his voice faded and a vine slithered around your ankle.

“...When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know…”

—

The new year was just around the corner as you and Eddie holed up in his room for the day. You’d taken a year off to save up some money for college, and Eddie was a few months into his third senior year.

He was furiously scribbling at his desk: a new campaign, he said. You never minded these days. You enjoyed the peacefulness of simply being in the same room as Eddie, doing your own things.

The stereo was set to a hum—background noise helped him concentrate. When the music stopped, you got up to switch the cassette. You knew Eddie’s collection like your own: Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden—if it was metal, it was here. That’s why this new album took you off guard.

You held the Fleetwood Mac cassette up. “When did you get this?”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder. “Last week.” He shrugged. “It’s a good album.”

He turned back to his campaign, hoping his voice sounded normal. He didn’t want you to know he bought it so you’d always have that song with you. He didn’t want you to know that when you weren’t here, he listened to it like you were. He really didn’t want you to know that it had slowly become one of his favorites because you listened to it when you were both together.

And maybe he had imagined swaying with you to that song. He’d light some candles, hold you against him, and wish he could stay like that forever.

But that’s all it was, just some wish.

He could hear the smile in your voice as you spoke. “Looks like you finally got some taste.”

And though you couldn’t see it, he rolled his eyes, a smile on his own lips. “Guess you’re a good influence on me.”

—

You gasped, knees buckling as you returned to your body. Eddie quickly caught you, lowering you to the floor where he pulled you close, one of his legs behind you and the other under your own.

Tears streamed down your face as you curled as best you could into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your head in its crook.

You had been so cold there, even though all you saw was red; it was like the place tried to freeze you solid. Eddie’s warm hands rubbing your back pushed the chill in your bones away. His grip was the only thing grounding you, telling you that you were where you belonged.

One of his hands moved to stroke your head. “I’m here. I’ve got you now." He breathed you in. "You’re back, sweetheart.”

He tried to bring you closer, placing his head atop yours and holding you by your shoulder and knees—like he could keep Vecna from grabbing you again.

So, when you calmed and began to pull away, he almost yanked you back to his body.

Once you both rose from the floor, the others urged you back to the RV, Eddie’s arm around your waist.

He took your hand when you sat on the back bench as the rest of the group discussed the plan. Nancy had thought to grab your walkman and headphones, and Max had thrown all her music in her backpack and had a copy of the album you needed.

Your headphones rested around your neck, the song softly playing. You wanted to help everyone figure out how to kill Vecna, but the only thing you could focus on was the phantom vines encircling your wrists.

You kept expecting them to be there when you looked away from one of your friends. Eddie must have noticed you weren’t paying attention, his knee nudging yours as he furrowed his brow in concern.

He knew you weren’t okay. Neither of you were okay. So, he did the one thing he could think of and squeezed your hand before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You leaned into it, needing him more than you could ever express.

“I’m right here,” he whispered into your ear.

You turned your head slightly so your foreheads were together.

“You always are,” you whispered back. As long as you had Eddie by your side, you would fight. You would win. And maybe afterward, you’d tell him you loved him.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie munson mutual pining #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic

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itsohh · 2 years ago

Text

The Engagement

A/N: Female reader, I’m calling them parts even though its a series and not a multichapter fic. Feels good to write some angst. Floreance and the Machine was good. Encore was the best part of the concert ngl.

Summary: In the middle of a mission, Simon picks properly the worst possible time to ask you a rather important question.

Word count: 1519

Warnings: Angst, injury

AO3 Masterlist Series Masterlist

Sometimes missions went well, all according to plan with little problems. Quick and easy. In and out. Five minutes gain intel, kill some people and get out. In other cases, things went poorly. Intel could be wrong, there could be more people than expected. There had been the odd time that the blueprints supplied were out of date. Unfortunately for you, out of those two options, this situation was the latter.

Communication was hard it hear, static breaking through every order, every command. Only the briefest of words could be heard through them. Jammers. "Captain?" Gaz's voice was a shout next to you and although you heard him next to you, his voice never came through the com.

"What do we do now?" He turned to you, keeping an eye on your combined surroundings. Cover allowed the pair of you to talk.

"The missions a bust, fuck. We have to hope that Soap managed to complete it. For now, we head to extraction."

"Copy."

Gunfire consumed the air and slowly but surely the pair of you made decent time to the extraction point. It was certainly far too hot for a proper extraction but you had hoped that the others would at least regroup with you there. When you neared a crackling broke through your communications and you heard the sound of your Captain's voice.

"Captain!" You ducked down behind cover, Gaz following your lead. "Captain, can you hear me?"

"--- Copy --- Gaz?"

"With me."

"Good --- extraction --- Ghost --- hurt --- south ---"

"Negative sir, repeat?"

"--- Half a klick southwest --- extraction---" With a roar of buzzing the Captain went silent.

"Captain? Captain?" No reply.

Scoped in, Gaz peaked over your cover to examine the estimated location that Price had spoken. "It's on the other side of this hill, if we can get to it the hill will act as cover for a heli." You nodded at the man.

"Right, let's get to extraction then."

If one thing could go right it was probably the best thing that could go right. Just as Gaz had said, on the other side of the hill a chopper lay in wait. The pilot was there with another person next to him.

"Good to see the pair of you. Was a mission on its own trying to get ahold of anyone." The pilot welcomed the pair of you aboard.

"Yeah, there's a bunch of interference, we think someone is jamming." Gaz spoke while the pair of you attached yourselves to a tether.

"Have you heard from any of the others?" You leaned over the seat slightly to look through the front of the helicopter.

"Negative, not since we had the initial call."

"Shit, any exspected ETA?"

"Negative again Doctor. We have cover here for extraction but I doubt for long."

"Hey, I think I can see them!" Gaz's voice had you snap back and look through the open side. Two figures were tight together while another covered their back. A few blinks and you were able to make out how Ghost leaned on Soap while Price was behind them. Right away from the posture, you could tell that Ghost was injured.

"Fuck!" Immediately you started to prepare. Scissors and emergency bandages were pulled out of your medic pack while your mind turned fully into medical care mode as Gaz and Soap helped Ghost into the chopper. "Lie him down, Gaz strap his leg in. Exit wound Soap? Any other wounds?"

"Negative, still in his lower torso. He's lost a lot of blood." True to his words, blood covered Ghost's shoulder and chest as well as his hands and Soap. "It went right through his vest. Sniper."

"Help me get him out of it. I can't see with it on."

"On it." Like a well-oiled machine, the pair of you removed his vest and you promptly started to cut away his shirt underneath.

"Bullets still inside Ghost, don't know how deep but I need to stop this blood flow." Your focus was completely on your partner- no, patient. So much so that you didn't notice the chopper lift off the ground or Price's concerned gaze. Light strained gasps were muffled through his mask were all that he could manage to get out.

"What I'm going to do is wrap you up okay? Going to stop that blood flow so we can operate when we have more blood." You tore your eyes off him to glance at Soap. "Help me angle him for a second. This needs to go around him." Something akin to a groan rumbled from Ghost’s body as the pair of you lift him off the ground slightly, just enough for you to slip the bandage around him. There was a sudden movement from Ghost as his hand snapped out and wrapped itself around Soap's wrist. “It’s okay Ghost, we will put you down in a second.”

Yet Ghost didn’t let go. “Lay him back down.” Your eyes could only afford to dart between the two men for a second, needing to secure the bandage. With what little strength Ghost had, he pulled Soap's hand towards his chest, their eyes having a conversation.

“Don’t tell me you actually…” When Ghost didn’t let go of the man, Soap let out a curse under his breath and his hand went to the front pocket of his pushed-aside vest.

“John?” Eyes flashing up you gave him a confused look.

“This- he.” Soap swallowed and opened the small box and there sat a metal band. A small simple ring with engraving on the inside. “He wants to marry you.” What. You froze for a second. Simon was asking you to marry him? Your mind was transported back to when the pair of you had been joking about it, just months ago. A hypothetical he wished to make into a reality. He wanted you to be with him for the rest of his life, someone to love and cherish. To spend every waking moment by your side. That fact circled in your mind. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

...

The rest of his ever-shortening dying life! You snapped out of your frozen daze, wide eyes as you forced yourself into your focused state again. Any longer could have killed him.

“Are you serious Simon? No. I’m not accepting a proposal from Soap.” You pulled the bandage sight and finished securing it. “Do you think my medical skills are that piss poor that you're going to fucking die? No, you're living Simon and then you can ask me yourself.” Your voice hissed, passion in your eyes. There was anger but not an anger that could be described as mad. You were scared, terrified of losing him. Simon was acting like he was already gone, that this was his final moments. There would be no tomorrow. No more waking up in his arms, no more cheeky dark jokes under his breath. No more late nights watching the world go by. No more holidays together, warm and safe in the comfort of your shared bath. No more staring into those beautiful and expressive brown eyes of his.

Yet you couldn't accept that. Couldn't accept what he had decided. You hadn't spent all those years becoming a doctor only for the most important person in your life to die in your hands. He would live, he would see tomorrow. He would ask you to marry him with his own mouth, in the privacy of each other's company. Mask removed and smile full of heart. Simon would be there at the end of the aisle and Price would deliver you to him.

Gaz would cry and Soap would tease him but follow suit. Simon would retire with you every night after. Right there at your side. Exhausted but happy to be in each other's company. Perhaps one day in the future one of you would go on a mission and never return or perhaps the pair of you would grow old together, retire and be a pair of grumpy old people, still so in love after so long of life together. Yet he didn't think that dream would come true. Simon thought he was going to die here. But no he wouldn't, you had decided he was going to live and god help anyone who implied otherwise.

Ghost's body shook, just a tad. Barely noticeable at all and for a second your eyes scanned for any other wound that you had missed. That was until you realised he was laughing. The hand that had previously been around Soap's wrist, reached for you. His blood-stained gloves graced your face, a kiss of contact. One that stained your face crimson with his fleeting life. And he continued to shake, continue to laugh. Expresion hidden away behind his mask but with eyes so gentle and full of kindness. A look only ever reserved for the pair of you. Laughing ever so slightly as his eyes slowly closed and didn't open up.

#ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #mw2 #cod #call of duty #simon riley

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed.

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere albedo x reader #tw: extreme content #tw: noncon #yandere albedo

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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

Text

Kenny Ackerman | of Death and Cigars

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Bloodplay, Blood Tasting, Bloody Bathwater, Biting, Age Gap, Kenny says cunny because of course he would

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Back by popular demand, it’s the dirty old man. This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate ❤️

The warm bathwater was ghoulish, slowly bleeding from pink to red the longer you sat in it.

At least Kenny didn’t look bad wet. Or bloody, for that matter. But you were used to seeing him caked in crimson, often found stains of it left in the rough patches of his beard. It’s all part of the job, kid. And it was, blood was something you expected out of mercenary work. What you didn’t anticipate was how much you’d enjoy the cleanup, how much you’d take pleasure in sitting between Kenny’s naked legs and let his calloused knuckles wipe someone else’s blood from your skin.

“Got a little on your mouth,” the water splashed as he raised his hand, swiping at your bottom lip, having to repeat the motion a few times to remove the smear, “what did you fucking do, drink his blood?”

Your eyes rolled, “I bit him, he was trying to reach around for my knife.”

Kenny only huffed, flicking water on your face before leaning back and stretching his arms along the edge of the tub. His knuckles popped and his neck cracked as he rolled it, little echoes into the dimly lit room as you fell into silence. You continued to rake a soiled cloth across your arms, most of the water still streaking red over your skin despite your persistence.

“Got some on your back,” he noted, and you could feel his eyes on you, burning spots into your spine.

“Well, wipe it off. Isn’t that what you’re here for? To ‘wash my back’?”

“Nah, I’m just here to look at you naked.”

You groaned, attempting to reach around to your back to clean, fingers aching from the reach. Kenny watched you struggle for a bit before swatting your hand away, gathering the rag in his fist so he could scrub rather brutishly at the elusive plane between your shoulder blades.

The embarrassment of being naked around him had washed away after the first few times you performed this ritual. It was just easier to get clean this way, and you didn’t particularly enjoy waiting for him to bathe first just so you could step into ice cold, murky water. Plus, there were some nights when he was actually tender, started to open up withered petals in the sun and talk about his past whenever he’d had too much to drink before sitting in the water.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, not bothering to hide your curiosity as your eyes flickered over his features. His long hair clung to his shoulders, wrinkles pulled around his mouth from where he held it to the side in concentration. His lean shoulders were freckles from days in the sun, muscles in his arms rolling as he attempted to wash away the scarlet splotches from your skin.

He’d taught you how to slaughter people in his own gruesome, throat-splitting way. He’d hand picked you for the Anti-Personnel Control squad—said he saw something vicious in you, and maybe he did.

“Don’t look at me with those big eyes, kid. You’re gonna make my cock hard.”

“Your cock’s already hard.”

“Then maybe you should clean that next. Sure your mouth would do better than a rag.”

You mumbled something about him being disgusting, but kept most of it trapped in your throat. His hands felt particularly good kneading into your back. Not to mention the last time you’d been too sassy with him, he let you go to bed bloody. You reeked of iron for days.

You stood in the tub, carefully posturing your feet around his outstretched legs, keeping your back to him as you stretched and prepped to leave. But as you turned to the side, you caught a glimpse of blood in his hairline, something he never thinks about since he’s always in his fucking hat.

“There’s—ugh fuck it,” you knelt back down, caging his thighs with your own so you could sit in his lap and work at chipping away at the dried, grimy substance with your nails.

“Now that’s more like it,” he unabashedly moved his hands to your waist, long fingers skimming upward to brush the underside of your breasts, “shame you have to keep these pretty tits covered all day.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Hey, you agreed to bath time with dear old Kenny.”

He had a point, but you didn’t have to explain yourself. Not to him.

You kept having to tilt his chin up and away from staring at your chest so you could weave your fingers into the surprisingly thick strands of hair. Droplets started forming at his forehead from your actions, water turning red as it absorbed the remnants of a very dirty and very busy night.

“You feel good in my lap,” he hummed, rocking you forward so you could feel just how much he meant with it with the cock straining against his stomach. You attempted to lift yourself away from him, but he only pulled you closer, brought your breasts up to his face so he could lick the water away from one of your nipples. You hated the jolt of pleasure that raced down your skin at the lewd touch, biting your tongue avoid any untoward sound slipping out.

Kenny repeated the action when you didn’t pull away, this time his tongue flat, placing a long, hot stripe over your nipple and over the curve of your breast.

“Stop that.”

“Do you really want me to?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer, instead enveloped your hardened peak with his warm mouth. You shivered at the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, the hands in his hair pulling him toward you instead of pushing away. He smirked against your tit, tip of tongue circling your nipple until he finally heard you moan. It was the faintest sound, one you barely recognized came from your mouth, but he heard it.

His hand on your hip sunk lower under the water line, thumb tracing the inside of your thigh, creeping closer to the one place he hadn’t dared to touch before. Well, that wasn’t quite true; he’d attempted once before, but you scratched his wrist so hard that he bled. This time you didn’t bother to stop him, the curiosity of what his fingers would feel like nearly killing you.

“Bet you’ve got a real tight cunny, don’t you?”

“Kenny—” you scold stopped mid-breath as his middle finger brushed your clit, pushing farther back to probe at your tight hole. He started sucking at your breast, taking the fat in between his teeth as he groaned at the feeling of your folds against his hand.

You were glad you couldn’t see the delight in his eyes when you sat deeper into his lap, urging his fingers to explore further, to press up inside you just so you could know how it felt. He obliged your silent request, sinking his finger into your heat and feeling the moan that reverberated from your chest.

It felt good, and he knew just how to curl his knuckle, how to swipe his thumb against your clit in the same motion to have your head falling back. Your hips rolled against your better judgement, encouraging him to nestle a second finger inside of you, pumping them both and stretching you apart.

“Yeah you like that, don’t you? Little whore likes her cunny stuffed.”

“If only I could stuff your fucking mouth.”

“Next time.”

You weren’t sure if it was frustration or ecstasy that trickled down your back and settled in your stomach, but you didn’t care, not when his fingers started pushing a little harder. Kenny’s lips started to make a trail up your chest, messy, wet kisses that had your skin burning under his beard. He stopped at your neck, wicked tongue daring to lap at the bloody water that pooled against your collarbone.

“Fuck I can’t take this teasing shit. Sit on my cock.”

Demands from him weren’t uncommon, he was your superior, after all, but this one had your cheeks flushing. You gasped when he uncurled his fingers from inside of you, shaking his wrist under the water like he was cleaning them. Your hands fell down to his shoulders, nails pressing into the muscled sinews as you lowered yourself just like he told you to.

You tried to look away from him as you felt his cockhead breach that first ring of muscle, your cunt too willingly sucking him in, but he caught your jaw, making you look down at him. His grey eyes were always piercing, like they were cutting through you like a knife twisting in flesh, and this time was no different. It was like he was looking through you, reading the jumbled thoughts rolling in your head as you started to sink down his length.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You’ve still got a little blood on your lips. Let me clean that for you.”

His kiss was rough, assertive, mouth slanting against yours in a mixture of control and desperation. For a moment, you thought not to kiss him back, a metallic flash of crimson hitting your tongue signaling that he was, indeed, telling the truth. But your mouth opened of its own will when his lengthy cock finally bottomed out inside of you.

One of his hands looped around the back of your neck, crushing your mouth against his as he started to rock you in his lap. You felt startlingly full, cock spreading your insides as you started to move with him.

A small pang of disgust hit you when his tongue snaked into your mouth, but you washed that down with the taste of him, with the taste of blood and tobacco, of death and cigars.

Your clit was sliding perfectly against the thatch of wiry black curls at the base of his cock, pleasure brewing in your pussy and traveling to your fingers, your toes. When he pulled away from your lips, his tongue licked at your cheek before he started to bounce you harder in his lap. Bloodstained water sloshed from the edges of the tub, sinking into the grout and tiles.

“I’ve come in my hand so many times thinking about you, kid.” He laughed at the look on your face from his confession. “Ain’t gonna take me long to cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“God I fucking hate you,” you hissed, but you kept up the pace, feeling that rather blissful and dreadful pull of orgasm.

“That so? Then why’re you just getting tighter around me? Feels like you like my cock.”

You didn’t have the effort for a retort, your head falling to his shoulder as you began to ride him harder, ready to cum and go dwell in the shame afterwards.

Kenny was panting, clearly enjoying himself as his big hands groped at your ass, helping you slide along his cock under the water. You hated that he smelled good, hated that he felt good, hated that he knew exactly what he was doing, pulling your cheeks apart and making you spread and used.

“Bite me.”

You almost didn’t hear him over your own whimpers, gritting out a simple, “What?”

“You h-heard me, kid. Bite me like you did that fucker earlier. Wanna see what it feels like.”

It was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. You caught your breath, blinking your eyes for a second so you could see straight through the haze of pleasure. You chose the tender spot between neck and shoulder, sinking your teeth into his tawny skin slowly, putting pressure on your canines so he’d feel that thrill of pain.

He moaned so loudly it actually made you flush, made your ears burn from how lewd it sounded. It spurred you to bite harder, to sink so deep into flesh that you felt his own blood slip past your lips.

The pulsing of his cock made you see colors, made you gasp and release his shoulder and nearly double over from the euphoria that rippled through your body. He stopped moving, but your body still shook, slapped with a climax you didn’t expect just from feeling cum pour inside your cunt, from feeling his cock twitch and throb and explode inside you. You spasmed around him, brows pinching together as you tried to come back to your senses.

You supposed he wasn’t kidding about not going to last long, you just felt embarrassment creep over your psyche at the fact that you’d fallen right behind him, wasting away in his lap.

After a few moments, you finally sat back, groaning at that too-full feeling of still having him inside of you. You gripped his jaw like he did yours earlier, bringing him back to life to look up at you.

“You can have your blood back,” you slid your messy mouth against his, both of you moaning a little too deeply as you shared his taste between your tongues.

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