#Those fists are rated E for everyone

[writtenobsession]

I was trying to get a screen shot my Tav with Karlach and she chose to kick my ass…

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - ◉ PART 2 - [ PART 3 ►]

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Size Difference; Size Kink; Power Dynamics; Power Imbalance; Power Play; Corruption; Multiple Orgasms; Dom/sub; Fondling; Manhandling; Near Death Experiences; Adrenaline; Flying Sex; Predator/Prey; Tail Sex; Tail Play; Possessive Behavior; Cervix Penetration; Oviposition; Eggpreg; Breeding; Unplanned Pregnancy • wordcount:  3,264 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 2)

V. A fearful Demon King

"You're doing such a good job, little one. Keep rising and falling on me."

Dark shadows enfold the throne upon which the Demon King sits, with you seated on his large cock, steadily fucking yourself on it. His power is great and fearsome, making you dizzy when you try to look into the blurry memory of where you were just a handful of minutes ago or how it all led to this. You just know that if you were given the chance to go back, you'd still choose the same fate.

"Haaah… It's so big! I can't go any faster, my Lord… nghhh…."

From the moment you came to understand that the powerful being has chosen you to service him, you felt far more honored than scared. It all changed when he revealed his monstrous cock to you. With its shiny onyx-colored base and angry red head, mirroring the coloration of the twin horns on top of the Demon King's head, what intimidated you most was the girth of it. You were sure you wouldn't be able to fit something the width of your fist inside you, and you expressed those concerns to your Lord through a series of pathetic sobs, not failing to show him how much you wish you could, of course.

Then he did something unexplainable yet very simple at the same time. He used his clawed hand - the limb elegant despite its inhumanly size and black color - the pointy tip of his blood-red claw tipped your chin upwards so you could meet his demonic gaze. Looking into his crimson irises made all your hesitation go away in a flash, and suddenly you knew it was going to be alright.

Next thing you knew, you were piercing yourself on his length, letting it stretch you open and ruin you for everyone else. Not that it matters, you belong to your Lord now - the way he caves a room for himself inside you, you can only feel that he owns you now, body and mind.

The fluids seeping from his bulbous head acted like a lubricant that made your tight hole accommodate him bit by bit until he was all the way in, and you could only writhe in pleasure and haphazardly stroke your clit as the orgasms overcame you one after the other. The fear of doing something so indecent and selfish without his permission made you snap out of it, but your lord only kept the smirk on his face, encouraging you to keep going.

Even now that you've just let him know that the big intrusion inside you is preventing you from speeding up, he seems to be relaxing back in his throne, contently watching you struggle on your own. Your boldness grows with the need to push yourself over the edge in yet another orgasm, and while doing so, you reach for the black, curved horns on top of his head. You're clearly out of your mind to be doing that, so you search for his gaze that will decide your fate for you.

"I allow it."

A moan rips out of your throat, followed by a dozen blabby and brainless thank-you's. The new leverage works in your favor as you spasm and gush around the red-black appendage inside you, feeling it further stretching your walls on every rise and fall of your hips.

Without any awareness of the passage of time, it seems like you've been lost in this euphoric trance for an eternity before he finally grows bored of your pace. The demonic hand that he previously propped up his chin with is now snaking its way down your little human body, having a delectable taste of your soft parts with a squeeze there and there, before finally settling on your waist. His other hand joins too, and suddenly you have no power over your own movements - he grounds you to his lap easily, making you take his cock all the way in, before starting to move you up and down on his own will.

You feel light in his hold, your brain clearing out of any remaining thoughts that you previously had to keep into, when something still depended on you. The new wave of pleasure you're granted is stronger than anything you've felt, and you can only hear the obscene sounds of sticky fluids leaking from the place you're connected, your body locked in an eternal state of climax.

The last thing you feel is an overwhelming fullness deep in your womb that seems to go on forever, before you're finally settled down on the powerful being's torso, a clawed hand stroking the underside of your chin as your consciousness slips away.

VI. A deceitful Angel

The man dressed all in white has been standing out from the crowd all throughout the night, but he's even more remarkable now up close, you must admit. While he talks to you with his harmonically sweet voice, all you can focus on is the way his skin seems to glow under the scarce light of the eerily decorated hall. He's quite friendly, his golden eyes warm and inviting, as he suggests exploring the stairs to the roof of the castle.

You think nothing of it, sneaking off with him like a pair of juveniles as his laughter rings through the narrow spiral staircase. The night sky becomes a beautiful backdrop to his figure, and soon you're enamored enough of him to confess with a little chuckle that he looks like an angel. He gives you a mysterious smile, putting a slender finger in front of his lips, and in the next second a beautiful pair of wings spread wide on his back.

You're mesmerized by the sight, not believing your eyes - the angel-like stranger seems to be reading your mind at that moment because he evidently wants to show you just how real they are.

Namely, by pulling you by the hand where he stands at the edge of the rooftop, making you fall forward ontop of him, and right off the edge.

Your scream is sincere as you rapidly approach the ground, eyes squeezing shut as you say goodbye to your life, but the inevitable impact never comes. Instead, you're airborne, carried on the wings of the now laughing stranger who gave you the scare of your life. He never struck you as someone so cruel, but just as you're about to conclude he's no angel, you're given an even bigger reason to think that way. His wings suddenly strip their white color, feathers darkening as if covered by tar, until they become completely black.

"Are you enjoying the flight? I'd say the world looks far better from above. But we can make the sight even more enjoyable."

The sweet voice whispers those words close enough to your ear to send shivers, as you have no choice but to cling to him for dear life. His hands are free while yours are locked tightly around his neck, and he puts them to good use, moving them down your body and under the layers of fabric, baring you little by little.

"Ahh-Why-"

"Why not? You said that I'm an angel, didn't you? Maybe I just want to show you what heaven feels like, little bird."

If he's an angel, he's for sure a fallen one; someone like him has surely been punished for committing a despicable sin. Yet you can't help but moan at the way you're manhandled in the air, placed over his hot length, as it penetrates you in one long, slow thrust.

"Ahhhh! Nghh!"

You've never been in such a position, feeling so powerless but also feeling so good, your weight naturally falling on his cock with every flap of his wings. The celestial being cradles you close, giving you yet another illusion that he's being generous while in truth just using you for his own pleasure, a warm and tight sleeve to manipulate up and down in the air as he sees fit. Looking down makes you dizzy, as he practically holds your life in his hands, and you will yourself to concentrate on the growing pleasure that inevitably comes with the ordeal he puts you through, one that is greater than anything you've felt before. If you make it out alive, you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

"Aren't you enjoying this a lot, hmm? Don't you want to soar in the skies with me forever? How delightful will it be if you grew a pair of wings of your own, right here?"

He trails a deft finger across your back, dragging it upwards, right between your shoulder blades. It coincides with the fire inside you engulfing you to the point of no return, and you come undone on his cock, clinging to the body keeping you safe.

"It will hurt a little, but it will be all worth it. Don’t you want it? To help create a beautiful world by my side?"

As the angelic laughter rings in your ears, you feel a gush of liquid shoot inside you, and you begin to wonder why his offer seems so tempting at this very moment.

VII. A ferocious Minotaur

Going out in the garden for some fresh air shouldn't necessarily entail getting lost in the hedge maze, yet here you are.

As you turn yet another corner, fighting off the surprise of discovering a new dead end, you tell yourself that getting out of here can’t be that hard. Luckily the party is not ending any time soon, so maybe no one will notice your absence while you're on your own impromptu adventure. You won't speak of it afterward, that's for sure.

However, there's something entirely different that's been bothering you as you walk through the labyrinth-like walls of greenery, and that's the strong sense of being followed that you've been feeling for some time now. Not like eyes on your back, but rather, like a lingering sense of danger that you're about to run into any second now. You approach the next corner with caution, look behind, and relax enough to make fun of yourself in your head. But that only lowers your guard enough to make you scream with surprise when out of nowhere, a hand reaches for your shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. Are you alright? I've been trying to catch up with you for some time now. You appear to be running in circles. Are you lost?"

The man behind you is of large build, the pair of horns protruding from his brown hair only adding to his already admirable height, even if they're more sprawling at the sides of his head rather than from above - not unlike those of a ram. It's strange; for a moment there you had the feeling he'd been hunting you down towards this place in the center of the maze, but he doesn't seem to be ill-intended.

"W-Well- Not really, I just went out to get some fresh air, and-"

It must be pride that prevents you from accepting his help, or the fact that reaching the spacious center of the maze gives you the illusion of having made it halfway out of it without any help. Either way, the man lets out a short, wry laugh, almost mockingly so.

"I see. You are one of those who linger alone in here, looking for fun."

"T-That's not it! I honestly just meant to-"

The man steps in closer to you, his heavy boots coming to almost touch the tip of your own shoes now, and the difference in your builds is intimidatingly evident at that moment.

"How about this. You will try and make it out of here on your own. But if you fail, if I catch you - I will have my fun with you, there on the spot."

You can't believe yourself when the cold sweat beading at the base of your nape is not enough to stop you from giving it a thought. Maybe you were looking for some fun, maybe it was your frustration with failing to find fun that led you out of the hall to "take a breather" and get rid of the irritating arouse you've been feeling for some time - why hesitate just because you didn't expect to find your ticket to the entertainment here, in the garden?

The animalistic aura of the man and his respectable size gives you just enough push to make this fair, to actually give it your all before you fall into his hands. 

***

Well, you can't say that you didn't put up a fight.

The brown-haired man seems to enjoy pinning you down and restricting you just as much as you enjoy protesting in his strong hold, testing the strength of his toned arms. It's humiliating, feeling the cold cobblestone ground under your hands and knees, but you don't want anything to break the immersion of being his prey.

Though, he gives you enough to feed the fantasy as it is. Until you doubt it's a fantasy anymore. Not when something large and tapered and inhuman prods at your hole.

"W-What-"

"You stay quiet and take it, 'lil lady. That's your punishment for getting caught."

You feel your brain beginning to melt with the intrusion of the tapered head of his girthy cock, and you brace yourself for being this monster's plaything, hearing him groan above you as he bottoms out.

You need to think about making it out of the maze at some point too, but right now you're not very capable of that.

VIII. A possessive Dragonkin

(CW: oviposition, breeding, unplanned pregnancy)

You noticed something being amiss the very second you entered the room. This is his territory, that much is certain - and you let him walk you in here willingly. As his grip around your waist tightens, tongue long since down your throat in a breath-stopping kiss, your half-lidded eyes catch hazy glimpses of the space. The moonlight seeping from the windows helps you make up the contours of piles upon piles of objects of various shapes and colors covering every surface. Most of them shiny, intricate, antique, scattered around without order yet clearly kept with purpose.

At the very center of it all, you're being undressed by restless hands that seemingly want to reveal way more of your skin than is necessary for a simple, short-lived tryst between strangers. You expect his touch to be cold, but every part of you becomes scorching hot under his fingertips. His skin is smooth as it glides against yours, the moon making it glow almost, as he aims to maximize the contact between your bodies.

You want to touch him back, but something long, strong and scaly wraps around your middle, lifting you up with ease and suspending you in the air. Is that his... tail? You kick your feet at the loss of gravity, afraid that he will drop you, but he simply watches you squirm and struggle with his slitted icy-blue eyes.

"Mine."

The sudden pressing of his cock against your drenched entrance distracts you from this strange surge of possessiveness. Your limbs tremble as he bottoms out, the blunt tip of his appendage brushing against your cervix and sending electricity through your writhing form, a mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelms your senses.

With every thrust, it becomes easier, as your body not only becomes more pliable towards his size, but it also begins to crave more. It's like the precome smeared on his tip numbed your cervix, because you suddenly don't mind the feeling of him knocking on it on every thrust.

"Mine."

The whisper is followed by a grunt, and it makes you look at the stranger's face again. He's looking at you, yet it's like he's not seeing you; fixated on something underneath the surface, even his mantra of possessiveness is voiced out solely out of his own necessity to say it and not directed towards you. You reach out a hand and brush it against his pale, smooth cheek. Your fingertips graze blond hair locks and aim higher up, where a pair of pointy horns stand tall on the top of his head. They're translucent and blue in color, as if cut out from pure sapphire, and you're mesmerized by the sight, by all of him. Even if his tail wraps snuggly around you to keep you in place, his pace is rather rough, and one particularly sharp thrust has you grasping at those beautiful horns for support.

You're rewarded with a growl, and the sound of it makes your insides squeeze around the thick cock that continues to mercilessly pound your cunt. In a haze, you barely notice how the very tip of his tail snakes its way towards your clit and begins to stroke it.

"Ahhh!" You throw your head back as pleasure rocks your body, a powerful climax ripping through you. As your mind blanks out, you register your need growing tenfold despite having just orgasmed. In answer, he doesn't as much as slow down his thrusts, giving you exactly what you want.

Suddenly, you begin to feel a strange bulb at the base of his cock that presses more and more into your entrance, as if moving higher. The rational part of your brain, barely functioning, sends worrisome signals, but the part that wants this easily overpowers it. You don't need to understand it. You only need to think of the undiscovered pleasure that awaits you with that delicious stretch. Your walls pulsate helplessly around it, an itch that nothing else would be able to scratch, you're ruined for everything else at that very moment. The bulb slowly moves higher, making its way to your bruised cervix, until it finally presses against it, firmly.

There is a sense of resistance for a second, until finally, something pops inside. Tears of overstimulation gather in the corners of your eyes, and you feel something small and rounded nestling deep inside, in your uterus. It makes you orgasm on the spot, body thrashing around in the strong hold you're being kept in, as your vision turns to white for a mere second.

A gush of liquid follows, and you open your eyes to see the one doing this to you breathing rapidly as he too reaches his orgasm. His seed floods you, seeping into your dilated cervix without anything to hold it back, and drenches the egg resting in your womb. A rush of realization goes to your fucked-out mind and you just know, with every cell on your body, and by some ancient design, that whatever he put inside you has been fertilized successfully in that very moment.

"Mine."

You hear the wicked mantra leave his lips one last time before you pass out, and you briefly have the opportunity to worry about your future. Is he going to keep you here forever? Or maybe your purpose will end with expelling the egg once it finishes its growth, to add another treasure to his collection. You can't help but wonder, when he says "mine", why is it that you don't mind whether he's referring to you or the good incubator that your womb makes?

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison  @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou  @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom @valkyyriia @candied-boys @ludivineikewolf Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[allzelemonz]

Boys’ Night: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

Dutch Van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Javier Esquella

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

Sean, in his mildly drunken wisdom, decided that a boys’ night needs more than just poker, five finger filet, and songs. With most of the older folks and women out of camp for a special con, Sean knows his only hindrance might be Dutch. So he enlists the best sycophant he’s ever met.

“Can’t tell me it won’t be fun.” Sean grins. “All a’ us-“

“I ain’t gonna be a part a’ some invert orgy.” Micah mutters.

Sean leans closer. “Oh, really? Even if a certain cowpoke’s involved?”

Micah glares up at Sean from his seat by the scout fire, then follows the Irishman’s eyes to the filet table. There you stand, arms crossed as you watch Morgan and Marston play. And Micah might be able to turn it down, let his senses say no again, but then Dutch leans a little closer and whispers something in your ear. Micah’s head swims with lewd images of the two men he finds himself pining for in his alone time despite his best efforts.

“Fine.” He snaps, holstering his gun and glaring at Sean. “But ain’t no one ta know ‘bout this, understand that?”

Sean grins with a little chuckle. “Ya mean ‘side from the boys fuckin’ ya?”

Micah’s fists clench at his sides, but he stops himself from punching Sean. He’s in too deep at this point, half hard in his pants and more frustrated than he’s ever been. “Shut yer damn mouth, cowboy, ‘for I decide ta leave ya with blue balls.”

Sean puts his hands up, giggling to himself. “Got it, big man.”

Micah stomps off and Sean watches him carefully. The blond makes his way over to Dutch, coaxing him away from the table and back to the fire. This might be easier than he thought.

Dutch is skeptical at first, concerned about how the gang might take such a proposition. But with Micah’s easy words, Sean watches the gang leader become so much more comfortable with the idea of the gang doing this for bonding and morale.

And the word spreads fast.

Folks are a little nervous at first, shuffling and unsure. Plenty of pining goes around camp on the average day, but being given the green light is a little daunting. So, Dutch being Dutch, he makes the first move. Shedding the hat from the blond’s head, Dutch pulls Micah into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Most of the gang watches as he walks Micah back into the filet table and lets his hands wander. Sean gets the next burst of confidence, practically lunging to kiss Lenny. John bursts out laughing when they fall onto the ground together, but he’s silenced quickly by Javier. Then Bill sheepishly cups Kieran’s face before the former O’Driscoll puts his arms over Bill’s shoulders and kisses him as if he’s been waiting to for years. It’s only yourself, Charles, and Arthur left standing in the midst of the mess, looking around at the others of the gang in various states of intimacy and undress.

Arthur clears his throat, the red of his face only getting worse as he glances around. “Well… suppose…”

You look over at him, those pretty eyes staring back at you. “You…uh, you wanna…?”

There’s a weight on your shoulder and you turn to see Charles, his other hand held out towards Arthur. The workhorse dips his head, his hat hiding his face as he steps forward and takes Charles’s hand.

“We could go somewhere a little private.” Charles suggests, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

The thought is comforting, making your pounding heart calm a bit. Most others have simply started at their partners where they happened to fall. Only Bill and Kieran have moved behind the chuck wagon. Sean nearly has Lenny out of his pants on the ground, Javier is shamelessly grinding into John against the tree, Dutch has Micah surprisingly whimpering at the attention he gets, Charles simply leads you and a bashful Arthur away from the others.

Arthur sits on his cot, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a breath. You don’t blame him given the circumstances.

“We don’t have to.” Charles says, sitting next to him with a kind hand on his shoulder. “Just because Dutch said it would be a good idea, doesn’t make it true.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No… I been…” He sighs. “Been wantin’ somethin; fer a while.” His hand reaches up to hold Charles’s on his shoulder, his eyes finding yours as they scrunch from a smile. “Guess I got a dirty mind.”

You chuckle lightly at the joke, happily taking Charles’s hand again as he pulls you into his lap. Charles kisses you softly, one of his hands on your waist. You gasp, pulling back slightly, when he starts to rut against you with a half-hard dick. Arthur has moved behind Charles, kissing at his neck while his hands lift up his shirt. Charles’s chest is broad and built, firm to the touch when you rest your hands on him. You watch Arthur’s hand move, twisting into your shirt to pull you forward. You’re pressed flush against Charles as Arthur kisses you over the other man’s shoulder. It’s Charles’s turn to give neck kisses now, his hands firmly holding your hips so you grind down into him.

“I want ya.” Arthur mutters against your lips. “Ya wanna fuck me, partner?”

You nod, kissing him again.

“What do you want from me?” Charles asks, his hand tilting Arthurs head so they can look at each other over his shoulder.

Arthur’s breath hitches as he looks at the man. “I… I wanna suck ya off, Charles.”

Charles smiles and that in itself is a slight. “Of course you do.”

The three of you move, hands guiding and wandering as clothes are shed. In the distance, Sean can be heard begging and groaning, there’s some curse shouted in Spanish, and the camp echos with skin slapping skin and the slurping, popping, and smacking of spit. It’s all overwhelming and you try to focus on what’s in front of you.

Arthur’s on his back, Charles nearly sitting on his chest as his dick is sucked. You’ve already spread Arthur’s legs, the tube of gun oil feeling heavy in your hand. You open it quickly, spilling half of it before getting your fingers covered and entering Arthur. In front of you, Charles throws his head back with a deep groan as his hips begin to stutter and fuck into Arthur’s mouth. You can’t help your free hand pumping yourself as you watch, your other scissoring Arthur open. It’s premature, you know it is, but you can’t take it anymore. You should stretch him more, but your dick aches in your hand and you retract your hands to grip Arthur’s hips instead.

You press into him and hear a muffled moan as Charles shivers from the vibrations it brings. Both of you still, giving Arthur time. You watch his hand grip at Charles’s hip, pulling him forward. Charles sits up, propping himself on the box behind Arthur’s cot so he can get the proper angle to fuck down into Arthur’s mouth. You start your pace, rough and fast like Charles. Arthur’s legs shake as he wraps them around your waist, his hand squeezing at Charles’s ass. You wish you could see their faces, but you can imagine. Charles’s is likely twisted in pleasure and concentration, Arthur’s might be slobbery and tear stained.

It’s Arthur that comes first, his dick untouched as it releases a flood of cum onto his stomach, a few spurts hitting Charles’s ass. Arthur’s body goes still as he whines, being used as a set of holes by now. Charles is next and you watch the bounce of his ass lose its nice rhythm as he shoots his release down Arthur’s throat. Charles seems to bury himself deep and Arthur grips his hips as he swallows what he’s given. You double your efforts, wanting to fill Arthur from both ends. You gaze falls downwards to watch yourself fuck into Arthur’s tight hole. Charles catches you off guard, tilting your head up for a kiss as he straddles Arthur’s stomach. His hand reaches down, passing your furious thrusting to fondle at your balls as they bounce off of Arthur. The heat builds fast and you release just as Charles bites at your lip.

When you let go of Arthur’s hips, he falls back down to his cot completely. Charles continues to kiss you as you pull out, smiling into it. You can hear Arthur’s labored breaths beneath you and you’re so in your own head that you don’t register the footsteps.

“Mind if I try somethin’, fellas?”

You turn from Charles to see Micah leaning against Arthur’s shaving stand. He only has his red shirt on, half buttoned, and a smirk rests on his face. Charles’s hand has yet to leave your balls and you feel him squeezing slightly as his other turns your head back to him for another kiss, silently telling you to ignore Micah.

“Aw, come on, Smith.” Micah drawls. “Lemme have a turn.”

Charles pulls back, his lips wetted and dark from all the kissing. “A turn?”

You hear Micah take a step forward and Charles moves fast. He leaves you and you nearly fall onto Arthur, only just catching yourself before collision. You look over your shoulder to watch Charles push Micah down to bend over Arthur’s weapon’s chest. A new pool of heat starts when Charles sucks on his fingers before shoving them into Micah, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“Shit…” Arthur mutters under you.

You turn to look down at him, chuckling. “Don’t think it’s what he had in mind.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

His hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss. Micah’s whimpers and curses fill the tent and you feel yourself getting hard again. Arthur grunts against you, pressing up until he brushes his dick to yours.

“‘m gettin’ too old fer this.” He mutters, blushing at his still soft dick.

Behind you, Micah gasps and you look back to watch him bury his face in his arm as Charles enters him roughly. Charles thrusts like a beast, fucking every last pathetic noise he can out of Micah. Kind of serves him right.

“C-Charlie…” Micah gasps, his voice light and breathless. “Ah! Fuck…”

Arthur hisses, his hand wrapping around his dick and trying to get himself going again. You trail your hand down, helping him stroke himself, but to no avail. After a few seconds a bottle lands beside Arthur on the cot, a tonic bottle. You look up as Arthur cranes his neck in the same direction. Standing to the side is Bill, a timid looking Kieran right behind him. Both of them are bare besides a blanket draped over Kieran’s shoulders.

“It helps.” Bill mutters, his eyes trailing over to watch Charles and Micah for a moment. “Works fer whiskey dick at least.”

Arthur looks the other outlaw up and down strangely. “Thanks.”

Bill clears his throat. “Ya wanna trade, Morgan?”

You look down at Arthur who glances between you and Kieran. He catches your nod before looking at Bill. “Sure.”

Kieran steps forward, a sheepish grin on his face. You give Arthur a final kiss before standing. As you pass him, you chance giving Kieran a kiss and he accepts it, melting into you for the few seconds it lasts. When you pull away and turn to Bill, the large man has taken himself in his hand at the sight. Your eyes catch on that motion, swallowing thickly at the size, nearly as big as Charles. You find the sense to step closer to Bill and kiss him. Behind you, Kieran squeaks from something and Arthur mumbles an apology. Bill’s hands find your hips, pulling you against him well enough to smush your dicks together between your stomachs.

Charles practically growls behind you and you hear Micah gasp again. “How’s that for a darkie, Micah?”

There’s a thud and you imagine Charles let Micah go or maybe even threw him on the ground. A few beats later, Sean calls out to Charles with a drunken shake to his voice. Bill pulls you with him, keeping his lips busy on your neck until he turns you around to bend you over Staruss’s little table. Bill fumbles, finding a tonic on the ground and pouring it over his hand before he pushes his fingers inside. You spread your legs for him, raising your ass a bit now that you’ve lost whatever care for shame you had at the start of all of this.

“Gentlemen.” Dutch greets, settling himself against the tree behind the two of you. “Don’t mind me.”

Bill’s finger’s stall for a moment, likely nervous about fucking someone in front of his boss, but he continues after a few seconds. You try not to think about Dutch watching you, feeling that same set of performance nerves. Bill fumbles more as he moves, spreading your ass cheeks apart with one hand as he guides himself inside. Both of you groan as he enters and pushes himself in fully. Bill leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he starts thrusting. You fix your feet steady on the ground when the table under you shakes from the combined weight. Bill’s thrusts are moderate and steady, hitting deep and brushing heavenly every time.

There’s a small groan, sounding like Kieran, that makes you shiver when you think about what Arthur is doing to him. A few more thrusts from Bill makes you grip the table tighter as your legs feel shaky. Then there’s a shout of Spanish with Charles’s name mixed in. Bill’s hands wander up your body a bit, caressing your sides as he keeps up his steady fucking. A low groan reminds you that Dutch is watching and you have half a mind to look back at him, but Bill picks up his speed and you bury your face into your arm instead. Bill’s climax pumps you full, the trickling feeling distinct as his dick already starts to push the excess out with a few final thrusts.

Only a moment after Bill has stepped back there are hands on your hips. Sean pulls you to him, falling to his knees in front of you and taking you in his mouth too fast for you to think. Your hands go to his soft hair and he relents immediately, letting you fuck his mouth without question.

“Arthur!” Kieran cries somewhere in the background.

Behind you, hands grip your hips as kisses are pressed to your neck. The tickle of a mustache tells you it’s likely Javier, but you’re too occupied with fucking Sean’s willing mouth to think further. You release for the second time, letting Sean take everything you have. In the midst of your high, Javier presses inside of you and starts fucking without inhabition. His hands on your waist hold you still, his lips beginning to suck in a mark to your neck. Sean stands, grinning at you before he runs over to Arthur and all but jumps on the older man’s dick. Javier wraps his arms around you, filling your ears with mumbled Spanish that is slurred by ecstasy.

Your eyes move around camp, finding several things to admire. Bill has Micah in his lap, stroking him with one hand and fingering him with another. John and Lenny each have each other in hand as they kiss, Charles watching them from the campfire. Dutch has Kieran on the ground, fucking him roughly as he mutters about O’Driscolls but Kieran moans all the same. Arthur stares from afar, Sean bouncing on his dick as he watches the sight of Javier finally burying himself deep and mixing his cum deep inside of you with Bill’s.

“You’re so warm, cariño.” Javier mutters in your ear before he chuckles. “Who’re you seeing next?”

“Not sure.” You take a few breaths. “Haven’t seen half of them yet.”

Javier pulls himself out, causing the mixed cum to leak out. “John’s a good hole, dirty mouth too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You turn in time for Javier to kiss you before he heads over to Arthur, teasing words spilling out as he climbs onto the older man’s lap to replace a spent Sean. When you turn back, Dutch is a few feet away. He beckons, gesturing to the ground and some part of wanting to please your boss makes you sink to your knees without question. Dutch guides his dick to your lips and, once again, you don’t hesitate. You only get a few bobs in before Dutch clutches at your head, beginning to use you without care.

“Shit!” Bill yells, not sounding pleased. “Wagons!”

Dutch pulls you off and you turn your head to peer through the trees. Glimpses of horses, a few colorful dresses… shit indeed. Everyone scrambles, hiding in tents, pulling clothes back on, trying to clean up cum from various surfaces. You all but fall into your tent, rummaging for at least a union suit or some kind of underwear. Pants, you find pants and pull them on.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls. “What’s gone on here?”

From your tent you can see Bill hiding behind a tree, not a thing covering him. Dutch comes out of his tent, somehow fully dressed, and greets Hosea as if he hasn’t fucked half of his men in the last hour. Miss Grimshaw looks around, sniffing with a crease in her brow for a moment. She’s distracted by Tilly asking a question and you take the opportunity to grab the union suit you know to be Bill’s on the ground in front of you before running over to him in the trees.

“Owe ya.” He mutters, pulling on the covering.

You nod, turning to leave, but Bill catches your arm and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. You give him a smile before circling around the trees, acting like you’d gone out to piss. Passing Lenny and Sean hiding out by the lake with a single fishing pole as an excuse, you sneak as best you can to Arthur’s tent. As if expecting you, a half dressed Arthur with a bulge in his pants, hands you the clothes you’d shed earlier. You dress the rest of the way next to the munitions, eyes checking for onlookers on occasion.

The camp settles, the secret kept. Everything is well and most of the boys have elected not to bring it up, others whisper and snicker about it. It’s dark when Micah sits next to you and you look at him, finding flushed cheeks for only a moment before he kisses you. It’s surprisingly soft despite the chapped and bruised lips. He pulls back, glancing to see if anyone saw before looking back at you with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Didn’t get the chance, cowpoke.”

[gotcursed]

MAYA LOPEZ headcanons.

rated e for explicit sexual content — 18+ — minors dni.

a/n: beefy pro fighter maya my beloved

maya lopez x reader ; is your girlfriend a puppy or a brawler? yes.

warnings: nsfw, semi-explicit smut, afab language, anal play, choking, spanking, strap-ons, rough sex, one single mention of blood.

watching maya in the ring gets you hot. especially when she’s fighting men and they can’t hold their own against her. she’s faster, anticipates better, hits harder, bounces back quicker. first time she invited you to a fight you worried you wouldn’t like seeing her get hit, but that fear dissolved when she took a mean cross to the jaw and found you in the crowd, flashed you a bloody grin, and pummeled her opponent into submission with heavy-handed blow after blow before the first round was up. when you kissed her in the locker room after the fight she tasted a little bit like blood even though she’d already cleaned up, but you didn’t mind. you kind of liked it. then she used her prize money to take you out to dinner where she touched you under the table while she ate steak tips and drank beer and you were left to grip your drink until your knuckles went white and every muscle in your body tensed. 

nowadays you’re front row at all of her fights with her leather jacket draped over your shoulders to keep it warm for her and so everyone knows exactly who you’re there for. who you belong to. 

tight hugs when she comes home from the gym in muscle shirts, nuzzling into a big bicep because it’s warm and hard and you’re never safer than when you’re wrapped up in her. kissing on her arm because you don’t want to pull away to free your hands to speak and you don’t think she wants to either and you like that her skin tastes a little like sweat and you really like how she flexes as soon as your mouth touches her.

it’s always the arms. reaching for her in bed at night, curling your hands around her arm, pulling it against your chest and snuggling it like you would a teddy bear while she snores softly at your side. tugging her arm around your shoulders while standing in line at the supermarket. digging your nails into her forearms when she plants her hands on either side of your head and looms over you with a presence as intimidating as it is dead fucking sexy. telling her she should get tattoos because she’s got the arms for it. she’s not big on pda but she doesn’t mind you hanging onto her arm in public because it makes her feel like you’re never going to leave her and as independent as she is you know she lusts after the loyalty she inspires in you.

when she hangs out topless in boxers at home you’re always ready to fucking fold. when she cooks in training shorts and a sports bra you like to sit and watch, following the ebb and flow of thick muscle beneath her skin as she moves through the kitchen and pretends not to notice how heavy your eyes are on her. when she works out in cropped tanks it’s hard not to drool and you get stuck between wanting to drop to your knees and worship her abs with your tongue and wanting to get pinned down and rendered helpless by her big strong arms.

sometimes you wake up in the morning to maya doing pushups on the floor beside the bed. you roll over to the edge and prop your chin on your hands and watch with a dreamy little smile on your face. when she’s done you drag her into the shower and throw yourself at her under the spray of hot water.

other times you wake up to maya doing pullups on the bar you installed in the doorjamb. sometimes on those days you’ll roll onto your back and prop your legs open and stroke yourself through your underwear while you watch her muscles bulge and flex, pausing to tell her, “ten more,” before going back to playing with your cunt. getting yourself ready for her while you watch her smirk and power through the last of her reps. by the time she’s done and crawling back into bed with you her chest is heaving and her skin is warm to the touch and when you take a fistful of her shirt and pull her down on top of you she’s heavy and solid and her hips fit so well between your legs.

bear hugs. her big muscly arms draped around your neck, your face nuzzled against her throat. her hands on your legs while you lay on the couch with a movie on in the background. her fingers working the knots from your back after a long day, pressing your skin, stroking your muscles like she can convince them to ease up and stay that way if only she touches you in the perfect spot. coming up behind you while you’re cooking and draping herself over your back, arms over your shoulders, cheek pressed to the side of your head as she rests her weight on you and you can’t even be annoyed about the fact that it’s very hard to cook with a big brawler putting all her weight on you because you love when she gets clingy. you set down the spatula and sign, “puppy,” because you know she’s watching your hands and it’ll make her roll her eyes and grin and because she really does act like a big lapdog sometimes and she knows it. 

wearing her shirts. her hoodies. they’re big on you but you like that, and you like that they smell like her, like she’s right there with you instead of working late. when she works late and you’re bored and lonely you’ll text her nonsensical strings of emojis, or you’ll tell her about whatever garbage television you’re watching in her absence. she’ll usually text back within minutes, always making sure you know you’re as much a priority as her job is. on the rare occasions when she doesn’t text back quickly, you’re not above playing the teasing game. pulling on one of her zip-up sweatshirts with nothing on underneath and sending her a selfie. stripping down and slipping into a pair of her boxers and posing for a picture in front of the standing mirror in her bedroom. her responses rarely betray how much she truly enjoys pictures like those, but an i’ll deal with you when i get home or a behave yourself from maya is the equivalent of a heart-eyes emoji from anyone else. and she does always deal with you when she gets home (and you rarely ever behave), though ‘dealing with you’ can mean anything from eating you out on the couch until you’re trembling and teary and too sensitive to take any more to throwing you over her lap, spanking you red and raw, and slipping her favorite little plug into your ass. 

maya likes to lounge. likes to kick back and sit with her knees propped open wide, likes you on her lap where you can see her and she can see you. claims it’s better even than the view of you bent over with an arch in your back because it’s all in the eyes. so she claims. but you’re fairly certain she just likes you on her lap so she can talk dirty to you. so you’re ready for it when she drops onto the couch and pulls you down to straddle her lap. “you look good,” she’ll say, hands moving slowly, deliberately, because she knows you hate waiting and she loves drawing out the teasing. “like you were made to be on top of me.” and you’ll start to blush, which she loves, too, and she’ll reach up and brush your rosy cheeks with her thumbs to draw attention to your bashfulness. meantime she’s just smiling that little secret half-smile that pulls at the corner of her lips as she gazes up at you through her lashes. “i want to watch you ride me,” she'll tell you, or, “let me sit back and watch you bounce on my dick,” or, “show me how you ride my cock.” doesn’t matter what she says, you’ll do whatever the fuck she wants.

win or lose (though maya has five wins for every loss) you’re her favorite prize, the one she can always count on. she’s indulgent after wins, likes dragging you into the locker room and sweet talking you into stripping down and joining her in the shower. she’ll soap you up until your skin’s all slippery and warm and then she’ll touch you for what feels like hours: coasting her hands down your back, taking handfuls of your ass, pulling you in until your hips are notched against hers, until you’re anchored to each other and nothing in the world could force you apart. she likes how you feel against her, your slick heat on her thigh always warmer even than the hot water, your nipples rubbing against her chest. she’ll kiss you nice and slow, she’ll suck your tongue into her mouth, will touch every inch of your body she can reach, reacquainting herself with how you feel when you’re laid bare for her. when she touches you between your legs where you need it most it’s all gentle, unrelenting pressure, and it’s all so soft. fighting’s her outlet, you’re her reward, and she treats you like you’re priceless. 

it’s different after a loss. when things don’t go her way in the ring she won’t bother with a shower, she’ll just grab her bag and then grab you and take you home. sometimes you don’t even make it to the bedroom before her aggression surfaces and she bends you over the kitchen counter, the dining table, or presses you up against the wall in the hallway and yanks your pants down and forces a knee between your thighs so she can rut against you, fucking you into a hard surface because there’s nowhere else to put her frustration and she knows you like to take it. when she loses, round two is you on your knees with her leg over your shoulder and a hand in your hair, holding you steady while she uses you to get off. fucks herself on your face, rubs her cunt against your mouth and nose while you do your best to keep up with your tongue without losing your breath. round three is you on your back, legs hooked around her waist, pussy stretched around her favorite strap while she pounds into you, fucks you open, one hand wrapped around your throat so she can feel every last little sound you make.

win or lose, you love her. you’d be crazy not to.

[messierthanthou]

Untitled - Bottom!Billy - Rated E - 2.5k Words - Written in Honour of @aggressiveviking !! Enjoy, everyone!

If it wasn’t for Neil, Billy could and would love more. But it has all been beat out of him, scared to ever even think of the things he wants to. Daily life is a masquerade, him in a lion’s mask, the rest surrounding him those of lambs.

It was a long way to the top of the food chain, but even greater would the fall be, if it was that anyone dared threaten his role at the top of the school’s hierarchy. 

Which - perhaps unintentionally - one Steve Harrington attempts purely by existing. Those deep brown eyes that sees past the mask of the still freshly crowned king disturbs Billy on such a ground-shaking level that it is do or die, whether either of them wants to or not, a battle is brewing between the two, and Billy, no matter his pains in life, is not ready to give up.

So he finds himself in the pouring rain, standing just a few feet away from the Harrington mansion, soaked to the bone but it doesn’t cool off his heated temper nor does it calm down his pounding heart.

Billy doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he can’t let it keep bubbling up inside him at school, because what if he loses it? Exactly what it is he could lose, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he needs to release some of the pressure burning inside him.

Without forethought as to what he’ll say or do once Steve is there, he knocks on the door and rings the bell. He’s angry, he’s nervous, he’s unsure; everything floods his senses all at once, and as soon as the door opens even an inch, he pushes it all the way and stomps inside, past a startled Harrington.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve erupts immediately.

“You alone?”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Billy shrugs, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“You can’t just barge in like this, Hargrove. What are you even doing here? Get out!”

The door is still wide open.

“You’d really send me out into the rain? Cold.”

Harrington groans out in displeasure, then closes the door. Billy figured he’d be a good sport. He’s too kind, even to his nemesis, and it makes the fury in Billy boil worse.

“I’ll get you a towel.”

While Steve vanishes to go find that towel, Billy stomps around the place, dripping on the floor as he goes. He knew they were rich, Steve’s parents, but this is ridiculously fancy for Hawkins. Hell, even their family portrait in the living room is an actual painting, and not just an oversized photograph.

Harrington catches up to Billy when he’s neck deep in the fridge, looking for the cold beers that he finds.

“You can’t just-” Steve starts off with, but Billy is quick to crack open the bottle against the marble countertops. 

Then Billy yanks the towel from the brunette’s grasp and throws it over his shoulder before taking a large gulp of the beer, which tastes far better than what comes out of a keg.

“Nice castle you got here, princess.”

Steve avoids eye contact at that, looking to the side and shifting in place. “What do you want?” he asks skittishly.

Billy doesn’t answer right away as the bottle occupies his lips, and soon there’s not a drop left. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?” Steve scoffs. “You barge into my house, and you don’t know why?”

The blonde shrugs and shakes his expressionless head.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

As a matter of fact, he does.

Steve then looks down at the floor. “You’re dripping everywhere, dry up for Christ's sake!”

Then Billy smirks a little, teasingly so. “Make me.”

He watches as Harrington clenches his fists before they come near his face, and Billy accepts it; the inevitable punch coming his way. It’s possibly what he deserves, he’s unsure of actually what, but a hit might be it. And yet, he doesn’t hurt, instead he feels softness caress his face, going through his hair, as Steve dries him off with the towel.

“Take off your jacket.”

“What?”

“I said take off your jacket,” Steve repeats.

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t get you dried off and warm, you’ll get sick.”

“And why do you care?”

The pretty boy takes a step back, towel still in hand. This time he’s the one to shrug, and doesn’t offer another word, lowering silence onto the two of them.

For a moment too long and quiet, Billy considers why Steve wants him out of his clothes, but perhaps the reason is simply more innocent than what Billy imagines. So he does as suggested, taking off his jacket.

“You can borrow some dry clothes, but once the rain is done you’re out, understood?” Steve sounds so certain of that.

“Sure thing, princess.”

Steve exhales hard enough for Billy to hear it, and is that a slight blush to his cheeks? Or anger at the pet name?

“Come on.”

Harrington’s bedroom is surprisingly barren in comparison to the rest of the house; nothing on the walls besides that shit ass ugly wallpaper, a few pieces of furniture around the room, curtains, and lamps. Billy’s room is a cluttered mess in comparison, but at least his got personality, and this is more like a showroom at a furniture store.

“I’m sure I got something that will fit you…” Steve starts rummaging through the dresser, and as his back is turned to Billy, the blonde starts undressing.

All of it.

And when Harrington turns around, there’s just a gentle gasp from open lips as his eyes seem to be guided like a magnet down to Billy’s limp dick. For whatever reason, Billy gets a kick out of the stare, feeling heat shoot through him to his groin.

“Billy…”

“What?” He grins wickedly. “See something you like?”

Steve looks away, but being naked in the pretty boy's bedroom, it excites Billy beyond belief, beyond understanding. Beyond common sense.

So he takes a step forward, just a small one to test the sudden tension between them. Steve tries to take a step back, but bumps against the dresser behind him.

As much as his heart is beating him into a weak pulp, Billy can’t stop walking closer after that initial tentative step. And he plans to continue till Steve says or does something to stop him. But he doesn’t, so the blonde winds up with his feet next to the other’s, too close perhaps, as he can smell Steve’s body soap and hear his elevated breathing.

They’ve been quiet for too long, so Billy says, “Steve, look at me.”

Without blinking Steve turns his head to look straight into ocean blue eyes, and their noses early touch. He looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy, huh?” Billy whispers in a teasing way, almost sensual without intending to be, but the nearness makes it seem like something it might not be. “You wanna punch me, don’t you? Start a fight?” Billy gazes down at Steve’s plump lips, then back up to meet his stare. “Come on then, do it. Hit me. Show me with your fists how much you hate me.”

And for a second time tonight, Steve touches Billy in an unexpected way, as his mouth gently and experimentally presses a kiss against Billy’s.

Who’s stunned. Such a tender act, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and two thoughts cause war in his head.

Kiss him back, or punch him.

The kiss wins.

But his hands don't stay idle either, as they grab the collar of Steve’s polo shirt and pull him into a far more ravenous kiss than what the brunette offered before. And it does things to Billy that he’s unsure of why it does. He’s confused, angry, furious in fact, but also undoubtedly and impossibly turned on. Never before has he gotten so hard so fast.

And when Steve grabs him by the hips he moans into their brutish kisses. It’s almost as if he can’t think any further past this moment, and yet his hands act by pulling at Harrington’s shirt till Steve takes it off. While his hands are off Billy, they go down to undo his belt and loosen the button on his jeans before the zipper runs free.

With his hands back on tan skin, he softly pushes as he guides Billy backwards and onto the bed, where they both fall together and bounce around a little with slight chuckles.

Billy can’t remember when he last laughed in earnest.

But he doesn’t linger in that moment, instead he crawls back till he meets the headboard and a couple of pillows. Then he spreads his legs for Steve, who places himself between Billy’s thighs and leans down to kiss and nibble across his waxed clean chest. The blonde moans when a tongue finds its way to a nipple, and the tip plays with the sensitive bud, hardening it before lips close around it to suck, and Billy’s sounds grow even more elated.

There are no real words uttered past hoarse curses and yes’s, yet Steve seems to understand what Billy wants as he reaches for a drawer in the side table, and brings out a bottle of lube.

The lid comes off with a clear pop, and the clear fluid pours over three of Steve’s digits. But he pauses, both of them out of breath and silent as the cold lube runs down Steve’s hand and drips onto Billy’s chest. Their eyes then meet, and he can tell that Harrington is searching for approval.

Billy’s heart is in overdrive, but so is his lusty need to feel the other inside of him, so he nods just the once, which proves to be enough for Steve to bring his hand down between them, between Billy’s thighs, between his buttocks and into his hole.

It’s not something he’s used to past a few trial runs with his own thick fingers, but Steve’s are thinner and longer, reaching deeper than Billy expected to, and it takes a moment to get used to the sensation.

And what an amazing sensation it is; Billy gets worried that the pure anticipation of getting fucked by Harrington’s cock might undo him too soon, but he resist the urge to touch himself and finish it all so quickly.

After a few thrusts he dares beg, “More.”

The thrill of a second finger makes him louder, more keen on expressing his incoherent thoughts, and when Steve continues to thrust ever so gently, Billy leaks onto his own stomach whilst gripping at the sheets.

Harrington simply stares starry eyed at the expressiveness of the blonde’s expressions of elation.

It doesn’t take long for Billy to need another finger. “Fuck, pretty boy, more…”

The stretch of the third hurts just a little bit, a slight burning sensation of his rim, but on the inside he feels like melting butter, easy and pliable in the brunette’s hands, a moaning, leaking mess of spectacular nerves coming looser and looser, til those three fingers aren’t enough anymore.

“Come on then, princess, give it all to me. Fuck me.”

It’s more uncomfortable being empty of Steve than it was getting fingered by him, but it gives Billy a moment to breathe without gasping and moaning as he watches Steve lather up his cock and guide it up to Billy’s expectant hole.

Slowly, inch by inch, he glides inside with the most tender of movements, and if Billy thought that Harrington’s fingers were long, reaching where he couldn’t himself, his prick goes past that, pushing in till Billy’s convinced it’ll fill him up completely.

It is breathtaking. 

“You okay?” Steve asks him softly once he’s completely inside of Billy.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m fine, princess.”

“Good… Good. I’m gonna start moving, just tell me if you want to stop.”

The blonde understands now why all those girls want Steve. He’s nice. Too nice maybe. Billy can’t stand looking at him, turns his head to the side and nods.

So Harrington starts, pulling out carefully before pushing in again, and Billy swears he’ll meet a swift end to this experience if he doesn’t hold back, for the feeling of getting fucked so gently is beyond excellent. Every motion, every inch, it consumes him with blinding and deafening lust, all of which he gives clear sound to by the way of moaning and gasping. 

Then Steve leans in to kiss his neck, somehow finding soft spots Billy didn’t know he had, and it helps in the worst way. 

Minutes pass this way, slow thrusts and kind kisses, so tender it might just ruin the war between the two for good, make Billy fall head first into growing a crush on Harrington, something he’s sure he doesn’t want, but doubt comes in with every near loving touch.

“Billy…” Steve mumbles and it sounds perfect coming from him.

So the blonde turns his head to meet those brown eyes gazing dearly down at him.

“Please, keep looking at me.”

Oh it brings forth buried feelings like it’s golden treasure that Billy has been trying to find for so long. Something he didn’t know he even could find within himself. So he looks at Steve as they go through this gentle time together. Billy didn’t think it possible that he and the brunette could be like this. Normally he’s so calculative, thoroughly thinking every word before saying them, practicing in the mirror for hours, but this all came so naturally once he was naked in Steve’s bedroom.

This is easier than hating and fighting him. This is it. Completeness.

“Faster,” he pleads.

And Steve complies, increasing the pace of his thrusts, and every time he bottoms out inside of Billy, the blonde calls out louder and louder, the heat in his gut building up till it engulfs him with fiery passion that can undoubtedly be heard all throughout the woods surrounding the mansion. 

“Billy, fuck!” Harrington hasn’t been completely quiet throughout, but now he’s becoming wilder with his voice, calling out the blonde’s name, telling him how amazing he feels, how incredible this is.

All the praise is what brings him to climax, his dick untouched by hands but rubbed between their stomachs proves to be enough friction, making him moan as his body tenses up and his cock empties out in the space between them.

“Don’t stop!” he calls out, riding the wave of ecstasy for a while longer than what masturbation brings him to. 

“I-I- ah!” Steve tries to speak, but is cut off as he too reaches the peak, which Billy can tell from the way his thrusts become erratic and his whole body shivers and trembles, then it stills, then collapses onto the blonde with his entire weight.

And Billy releases his grip on the sheets that he’s been choking out this entire time. Everything is peaceful and soft and he doesn’t want this moment to end, ever. 

Steve breathes out from exhaustion, and says, “How about a shower?”

Billy hopes that Steve can’t see the little secret smile he has when he responds with, “Sounds great.”

[mcyt-drabble-exchange]

MCYT Drabble Exchange: Overview and Rules

Do you like writing? Do you like Minecraft youtubers? Do you, perhaps, like writing about Minecraft youtubers? Well, we do too! Only problem is, we often stay up late wagging our fists at a half-finished document, cursing the fact that writing is hard, life is busy and there's just not enough time in the day to sit down and make a good fic. Well, if you’re looking for a quick little block people centered writing challenge, then boy, do we have just the mini-event for you!

Welcome everyone to the 2024 (first ever!) MCYT Drabble Exchange!

TIMELINE: May 6th - sign ups open May 17th - sign ups close May 24th - all assignments sent May 25-26th - posting period May 26th 11:59pm BST - posting period ends [What time is it for me?] May 27th-June 2nd - treating week

SIGN UPS: [closed]

TREATING SHEET: [here]

RULES: 1. As per Tumblr and AO3 TOS, you must be over 13 to participate. 2. You agree to create a work of exactly 100 words by the given deadline, or contact a mod on Tumblr for your giftee to be reassigned. 3. You agree to abide by your giftee’s DNW. 4. Your work must focus on at least one requested character, but can include non requested characters. 5. All works must be MCYT-centric. 6. This is a 13+ exchange, there is no NSFW allowed. This applies to sexual content as well as extreme (e-rated) gore. 7. Make your gift in good faith - something that you think your giftee would like. 8. All violent/dark/triggering topics must be tagged appropriately. 9. No AI generated content.

POSTING: You can post your work to Tumblr or AO3, we don’t mind either! We do however require you make a Tumblr post tagging both this blog and your giftee. We have an AO3 Collection! Works posted to the collection might take a while to show up, so please don’t panic if you don't see yours! They need to be manually accepted.

So, what is a drabble?  A drabble is a written work made up of exactly 100 words. Typically viewed as a challenge, drabbles are often meant to test a writer’s skill in brevity, seeing how efficiently they can communicate emotions or ideas through such tight restrictions. For this event, we are using this unique format to bring the joy of MCYT into the world! Think, how would a lighthearted interaction between Tubbo and Tommy play out? How many insults could Grian hurl at Jimmy? How much emotion can you squeeze out of QSMP Jaiden if you’ve only got her in your little writer hands for 100 words? For this event, we encourage you to be creative, try some new things, and most importantly, have fun!   (To get a feel of what you’re working with, keep in mind that the previous paragraph has a word count of 120, twenty words over your limit!)

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[mugloversonly]

Come to Eddie's for a Good Time a little late but my last entry for @domeddieweek day 8 prompt “free space” | rating: E | tw: breeding kink, cuckholding summary: Eddie has a side gig as a professional dom. Sometimes he throws a sex party and offers himself up as a “free use dom” for people to come and be played with. He invites a new coworker. AO3

Eddie smirks as he surveys the area. A house full of fucking, and fucked out people, who all came running at his call. He loved hosting these parties; he’d send out the mass text:

My dungeon is open, to all those depraved. I’m free to play, all you have to do is beg

And they’d come flocking to his door. Some to swing, some to fulfill a fantasy, some to find a new partner, but mostly; they came for Eddie. A journalist during the day, and a professional dom at night, Eddie loved to push people’s limits. Sometimes, he wanted to push his own. Thus, the “free use dominant” party was invented. Normally, those didn’t go together, but similarly to a “free use sub” Eddie would put himself in an easily accessible location, and anyone who wanted a piece of him, could have it. The key difference? He was in charge. Once they entered his dungeon, they’d submit to him. A requirement for parties like these were clean papers, dated no earlier than a week ago. Gareth, his platonic sub and best friend, manned the door, checking they were on Eddie’s list and their papers were in hand. He was asexual, but he still like to attend the parties and make sure everyone had what they needed, in exchange Eddie wouldn’t charge him for his next session; it was a win-win.

He was set up in the basement of the spacious four bedroom house he bought after he sued his hometown for the witch hunt when he was falsely accused of murder. The money didn’t make the accusations from the town go away, but they already hated him, so a nice little nest egg of cash was the least they could do.

The party raged upstairs, his regular invitees already raided his supplies for condoms and lube and whatever else they needed. His dungeon door propped open the whole time unless the sub wanted it shut; most didn’t, but some wanted to explore things they were embarrassed by, who was Eddie to Judge?

Already, he’d had a few subs who let him play with them to his heart’s content. Whips, ropes, over stimulation, he happily did it all.

Tonight was a little different; one of his coworkers from the newsroom heard about his second job. With new players, he preferred to do a one-on-one or a couple’s session before inviting them to a party, but she caught him while he was planning this one and he figured, it couldn’t hurt. Especially when she mentioned she wanted to cuck her boyfriend. He didn’t particularly like Steve Harrington but Nancy Wheeler was a babe. Getting to fuck a hot chick while her boyfriend watched was something he could get behind. But disappointingly, he hasn’t seen head nor hide of the couple.

He was pulled from his thoughts when his smoke buddies, Jonathan and Argyle waltzed in.

“Hello boys. You want couple stuff today or group individual?” As far as he knew, the two weren’t dating, but they did fuck a lot when they were high. The redness around their eyes let Eddie know they were in the stratosphere.

“Couple stuff.” Argyle said. Eddie nodded and shuffled through his rope box putting aside a bundle for later.

“Alright boys, Strip down to your birthday suits, please.” Eddie requested as he moved around the room. “Who’s bottoming?” He asked. Jonathan raised a finger. “Safe word?”

“Pasta.” Argyle and Jonathan replied at the same time.

“Perfect. Jon go ahead and kneel here, Argyle step behind him please.” Eddie moved them into position and pushed Jonathan down to all fours. He left him there and turned to Argyle, grasping his dick tightly in his fist.

Quickly and efficiently he stroked him to full hardness and turned to take care of Jon only to be pleasantly surprised to fin d him already stretched and wet. “Excited were you?” He laughed. He dribbled a bit of lube down Jon’s crack before directing Argyle to fill him. Once he was in to the hilt, Eddie began wrapping the rope around them. He tied them together at the thighs, around Argyle’s ass, and Jon’s waist until they were barely able to pull apart.

“Feel okay?” He asked.

“Full” Jon mumbled.

“Think he meant the ropes, Jon.” Argyle laughed. “They’re good.” Jonathan gave a thumbs up in reply.

“Great. Now, go ahead and fuck him Argyle.” Eddie said.

Argyle pulled out as much as he could, about an inch, before he thrust forward. The ties meant he wouldn’t be able to pound into Jonathan the way Eddie knew he liked and that made his own cock twitch.

“Harder, Argyle. Please.” Jon begged. Poor Argyle tried to speed up but was stopped by the ropes.

“Here, maybe this will help.” Eddie said and took hold of Jonathan’s dick, jerking him off hard and fast. Jonathan groaned, attempting to fuck himself into Eddie’s fist all while Argyle fucked his ass as best as he could. It didn’t long for him to spill into Eddie’s hand.

“Atta boy. Good job, bud.” Eddie said before he set his sights on the other man. He flicked a nipple and pinched it between his fingers as he took the other one into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Fuck.” Argyle mumbled. His thrusts sped up and he gripped Jonathan’s hips tighter.

“What do you need?” Eddie whispered.

“Kiss me?” Argyle asked shyly. Eddie gently grabbed the man’s cheeks, pulling him in and shoving his tongue past his lips roughly. He kissed him hard, teeth knocking together as one of his hands tangled into Argyle’s thick mane.

He tugged on his lock and smirked when the other man whined against his lips. Jonathan’s punched out uh, uh, uhs let Eddie know when Argyle came, his hips stopping a second later. Eddie pulled back to let the two men catch their breath as he untied them. Jon flopped to the floor once Argyle pulled out and yawned.

“Don’t sleep yet, bud.” Eddie snorted but it was too late, Jonathan’s snores rumbled through the room. He rubbed circulation back into their legs and helped Argyle carry Jon upstairs to his spare room.

“If you want to rest with him go for it. The bathroom has stuff to clean up and there’s a bunch of snacks int eh kitchen. Make sure to eat, okay?” He made Argyle give him a verbal conformation before he went back to his dungeon. He was treated to a gorgeous view.

“Well hello, beautiful. I wondered if I’d see you tonight.” He smiled at his girlfriend.

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun could I?” Chrissy asked as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Eddie ran his hands down her sides to cup her supple ass and give it a squeeze.

She was wearing his favorite white teddie with the garter he bought her for their anniversary.

“And have you been having fun?” He asked. He moved his fingers around to her pussy and cupped he in his hands. The gusset of the lingerie was damp but when he slipped a finger inside she winced.

“You okay, baby?” He asked concerned. She nodded softly. “Don’t lie.” He said sternly, a hint of his dom voice slipping out. Chrissy whined and held tighter to him.

“Jason asked if we could hook up and I said yes. But then he was pulling my hair, spanking me, and fucking me too hard.” She mumbled. Eddie took a deep breath so he didn’t startle his sweet girl.

“did you use your safeword?” He asked.

“Yeah, he ignored it.” She whispered, and Eddie saw red.

“How many times?” He asked. Chrissy hummed in confusion. “How many times did you say red before he stopped.” He clarified.

“Three.” She said softly. Eddie gently pulled from her grasp and started for the door but Chrissy blocked his path.

“Baby, step aside.” He said softly, she shook her head and took his hand.

“You’re going to do something crazy, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No, I’m going to do a completely rational thing, and kill him.” He growled.

“Gareth already kicked him out. Can you let it go?” She pleaded staring at him with big wet eyes. He sighed, he could never say no to her when it came down to it.

“Fine, I wont kill him. But he’s never coming here again. I promise I’ll get him blacklisted from as many events as I can.” Eddie said.

“Thank you. Can you help me forget? I don’t want to end my night like that but I don’t want to play with anyone else..” She whispered.

“Of course love. You know I’d do anything for you.” Eddie smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He cupped her cheek, keeping things slow and sweet, and lifted her into his arms.

“Can you handle me inside, princess? Be honest.” He requested.

“Yes, please Daddy. I want it.” She whined. Eddie laid her down on the day bed, keeping his hands on her firmly but gently. His princess needed things soft most days. That Jason would be mean and rough with her was already a red flag but ignoring her safe words? He’s lucky Eddie loves Chrissy too much to go to prison.

“I’m gonna take care of you, my love.” He whispered before he kissed down her body from her temple to her ankles then back up, stopping at the apex of her legs. He tapped her thigh twice, silently telling her to spread her legs. She did so hastily, and he licked up the seam of her, holding in his wince when he tasted mostly lube. Little shit couldn’t even get her wet.

He wanted to dive in and eat her out like a starving man, but he refused to move too quickly, lest her hurt her more. When she was nice and relaxed, he tried to slip a finger in again. He felt her tense up and reached out with his free hand to hold hers. He sighed in content when she relaxed and he moved his finger slowly. After a few minutes, he slid in a second finger. Chrissy cried out, in pain not pleasure.

“Mango.” Eddie whispered. He sat up and slowly pulled her hand free. He wrapped Chrissy up in his arms and laid her against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Hey baby. None of that.” He pressed kisses into her hair. “I stopped because I didn’t want to keep hurting you. I know you want it, Princess but I promised never to hurt you in ways you didn’t like.” Chrissy nodded and let Eddie’s heartbeat calm her.

“I’m okay. But I need…” She trailed off.

“Anything.” Eddie promised. She reached for his belt.

“Can I suck you off? I need to make you feel good.” She said. Eddie held her face, eyes darting all over. He must have approved of what he saw because he quickly undid hi pants and pulled his cock out. During their conversation his dick flagged a bit but it didn’t take much to coax him to full hardness. Chrissy leaned forward but Eddie stopped her with a gentle press to her forehead.

“What do you say?” He asked.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Good girl.” He let her go and gestured for her to begin. She started slowly, kitten licking his tip and swirling her tongue around his bead before gently taking him into her mouth. He groaned when she hollowed her cheeks.

“Fuck, Princess. Your mouth drives me crazy.” He moaned. Chrissy smiled around his cock and sank down further. Once she had him fully down her throat she held him there, choking herself a little. It always amazed Eddie when she deep throat him; he wasn’t exactly small and he always wondered where the hell it all went.

After a few seconds she pulled back until only the tip rested in her mouth. Eddie cupped her cheek and left it there as she bobbed up and down. When she took him deep again, she placed his free hand on her throat so he could feel himself.

“Goddammit, baby.” He huffed. Her other hand came up to play with his balls as she worked him over. Eddie’s whole body was tense as he held still so he didn’t buck up into her.

“I’m close, love. Where do you want it?” His perfect girl tapped her cheek.

“God, I love you.” He said as his release crashed over him. Chrissy pulled back to collect his cum on her tongue, holding it there with her mouth open to show Eddie her prize. He pushed his fingers into the mess and pressed down on her tongue. She closed her lips around them and hummed in pleasure.

“Swallow, my girl.” he whispered. She shivered as she did as she was told.

“Thank you, daddy. I love you.” She said when she was finished. He pulled her back into his arms,wiping a few stray tears.

“I can stop the party.” He offered, but Chrissy shook her head.

“I’ll be okay. I’m gonna go shower and steal your pajamas.”

“I made you a smoothie. It’s in the freezer. Promise me you’ll drink it?” He asked as he helped her out of the bed. Before she could answer, who should enter the dungeon but none other than Nancy and Steve.

“Finally! I’ll be right with you two. Nancy go to that chest and pick out the ropes you want.” He said to the couple before turning back to Chrissy expectantly.

“The smoothie?”” He said pointedly.

“Yes, daddy. I’ll drink it.” She promised.

“Good girl, on you go.” He said giving her one last kiss.

“How does this work?” Steve asked once Chrissy left. Nancy was busy pulling out bundles of fabric.

Eddie ignored Steve and went to his mini fridge. He pulled out a water bottle and chugged the whole thing in one go, then grabbed a baby wipe and cleaned his dick and face. Only then did he turn to Steve.

“You guys got your papers?” He asked. He knew they did, he just liked double checking with new players.

“Obviously, Your doorman wouldn’t have let us in otherwise.” Steve said haughtily.

“Steven, no need to be rude.” Nancy said when she handed a soft bundle of black silk to Eddie.

“Yes, Steven. Is that anyway to talk to the guy who’s about to rock your girl’s world?” Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever man. She’s got a fantasy, and you’re convenient.” He crossed his arms. Eddie sucked his teeth before he strode over to Steve and slapped him hard across the face.

“Careful pretty boy. Keep talking like that and I’ll ruin her. She’ll leave here with only my cock in her mind. Then when you give her your pathetic excuse of a cock, she’ll say my name.” He stepped closer until his mouth was right against Steve’s ear. “Oh, Eddie! Fuck, Eddie!” He mocked in a high octave.

“You’re not that good.” Steve replied. Eddie smirked when he saw Steve’s Adam’s apple bob.

“Wanna bet?” He stepped away and grabbed a chair putting it perpendicular to the bed. “Sit.” He gestured to Steve. With as much attitude as he gave Eddie, he didn’t hesitate to sit down.

“Nancy, sweetie. Are these for him or for you?” Eddie asked.

“Steve.” She replied.

“Why is that?” He tied Steve’s wrists to the chair but left his ankles free.

“Because he can watch but not touch.” She answered, perfectly delivering her line. Some subs would provide him with a script to follow, either specific lines or concepts, and it was not surprise Nancy did.

“Exactly. Let’s hope, without the distraction of his now pleasure, he’ll learn how to fuck you properly. How’s that sound?” He asked.

“Good.” Nancy whispered.

“good, who?” Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“Good, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” Eddie replied. Steve’s jaw clicked as he clenched it tightly. His hard dick outlined in his jeans betrayed him. He was enjoying this. That settled Eddie a bit but he knew Steve could stop this at any time if he really wanted to.

“Now, why don’t we get rid of this.” He said as he tugged on Nancy’s dress. He helped her out of it and smiled fondly at the purple bra and panties underneath. They weren’t anything crazy, it was the kind of stuff Eddie assumed one would wear to church; but it was a refreshing change of pace from all the lace and leather. He slowly removed the rest of her clothes.

“Damn, sweetie. You’re something else.” Eddie said and turned to Steve. “Ain’t she a beaut?” He asked the other man rhetorically.

Nancy stood next to the bed, nervously. She seemed unsure of where to start and a bit embarrassed about being the only one naked.

“It’s alright. Would it make you more comfortable if I was naked too?” She nodded shyly. Eddie smiled and quickly removed everything, his cock, half-hard again, slapped his thigh as it sprung out. There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a whispered fuck that sounded like it came form Steve. Nancy’s eyes widened as she took in his body.

“Like what you see, honey?” He asked smugly.

“Will that fit?” She whispered. Eddie barked a laugh in shock.

“Why mine longer than his?” He pointed at Steve.

“Thicker too.” She replied eyes still locked on his cock; it made Eddie preen a little.

“Then I guess we better get you nice and wet. Little Eddie isn’t even fully grown yet.” He helped her climb onto the bed so her legs hung off the end and she was facing Steve. Eddie held her chin and kissed her deeply. She moaned softly against his lips and Eddie slipped his tongue into her mouth. Gently, he caressed her tongue with his own, losing himself in it momentarily. He pulled away and pressed another quick kiss to her lips.

“Size doesn’t matter.” Steve insisted.

“Then it’s probably a skill issue. Keep an eye on your girl’s face, watch as I take her somewhere you never could.” He said before he buried his face in Nancy’s pussy. He went right for the kill, licking into her like he was the sweetest of treats.

If there’s one thing anyone should know about Eddie Munson, it was that he gave great head. He loved to make people writhe and moan off his tongue alone. Nancy was no different. He sucked her clit into his mouth, moaning when she pulled on his hair. Her legs wrapped around his neck, trapping them together.

“Eddie, oh. Right there, sir please.” She whined. Eddie replaced his tongue with two fingers and grinned.

“Tell him how good it feels. Tell him how much you love when I eat your pussy.” Eddie said before he went back to work.

“Oh, shit. He feels so good, Steve. I love when he eats me out, he’s so much better at it than you are.” Eddie turned his snort of amusement into a hard suck on Nancy’s clit. She cried out as she came hard, holding his head in place as she got him all wet.

Eddie let her catch her breath, in the meantime, he walked over to Steve and wiped Nancy’s juices off with the palm of his hand.

“Here, now you’ll know what it feels like to actually get her wet.” He swiped it across Steve’s mouth and smirked.

“Fuck you.” Steve spit. Eddie glanced at his hard cock with a pointed look.

“Sorry, this boner’s for your girlfriend. Maybe next time.” He said as he pat the man’s cheek. Nancy laid on her back and opened her legs for Eddie to crawl between. He pushed two fingers back inside, then three, then four. Since her orgasm loosened her up a bit, Nancy didn’t need a lot of help, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Ready, honey?” He asked.

“Yes sir. Please put it in.” She whispered. He eased inside her an inch at a time until he was fully seated, pausing so she could adjust.

“Fuck, honey. Your cunt is so tight.” He said. He gave a few experimental thrusts, grinning widely when Nancy squealed.

“More.” she begged. Eddie slapped her thigh and picked up the pace.

“Feels good, sir.” She mumbled.

“Thanks, honey, you feel good too. Is this your first time?” Nancy shook her head. “Sure feels like it. Your boyfriend doesn’t fill you up like I do, does he?”

“No sir.”

“No wonder you had to find a real man.” Eddie glanced at Steve. His knuckles were white he gripped the handles of the chair so tight.

“He’s pissed. The next time he fucks you, you won’t feel his tiny dick at all. Maybe we should show him what your pussy looks like when it’s fucked by a thick cock like mine.” Eddie pulled out and lifted Nancy like she was a doll. He laid her on her stomach with her head facing Steve. Eddie slid in behind her, grasped her hips, and positioned her onto her knees.

With no warning, he shoved his cock into her to the base, fucking her hard right off the bat. Nancy cried out and dug her fingers into the sheets. His thrusts were so hard, he was moving them up the bed little by little.

“You like that, honey?” Eddie growled. “You like when I pound your tight pussy?”

“Yes!” Nancy cried out.

“You like when I used you like a cheap whore?” He asked again as he picked up speed. If they were facing the headboard, it would put a hole through the wall.

“Yes! Yes, sir.” She screamed.

“Tell him.” Eddie grasped her hair and tilted her head to look at Steve. “Go on.”

“He fucks me so good. His cock is so big, it’s hitting me in places you never have.”

“Say, I love being a whore.” Eddie tightened his grip in her hair.

“I love being a whore.” Nancy panted.

“Tell him you love being my slut.” He grinned when her pussy squeezed him.

“I love being his slut, Steve.” Tears leaked out of her eyes and Eddie licked them up.

“Say your Eddie’s dirty girl.” He whispered in her ear.

“I’m Eddie’s dirty girl.” Nancy cried out. Eddie snagged her by the waist and pulled her back to his chest.

“Fuck, sir you’re so deep like this.” Nancy gasped.

“Did you tell Steve what you told me this morning?” Eddie asked, using one of the lines from Nancy’s script.

“No.” She whispered.

“Tell him.” Nancy shook her head. “Fine, I’ll tell him.” He smirked.

“Tell me what?” Steve asked. His gaze was fixed on the point where the two were connected and Eddie reached down to spread Nancy’s lips a bit more, her poor pussy was red and puffy from the abuse it’s suffered.

“She wants to have my baby.” Eddie said with a sly smile.

“What?” Steve asked. Eddie grabbed Nancy’s hips and moved her up and down on his cock as he rocked up into her. She quickly took over and the two began fucking in earnest.

“Tell him.” Eddie insisted.

“It’s true. I want him to breed me. Stuff me full of his cum over and over until it takes.” Nancy admitted.

“That’s right. Your girlfriend wants to be my baby mama. Round with my kid. She wants me to use her like a sexy cock sleeve. Isn’t’ that right?” Eddie’s balls drew up, he was getting close. He wanted to get Nancy there one more time.

“Fuck, Eddie, yes. Use me like a toy! Let me be your cum dump. Keep me full with it until I can’t take anymore. Let me have your baby!” She screamed as he reached down to rub her clit in quick circles.

“Fuck Eddie! Please, cum inside me. I need it, I need it, I need it.” She begged. She rocketed into a second orgasm gushing cum all over the bed and drenching Eddie’s thighs.

“She ever beg for your cum, Harrington?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Steve whispered.

“And she never will.” Eddie said. “Here you go honey.” He pulled her flush against his hips, shooting rope after rope of cum inside her. Once he finished, he pulled out, laid her on her back, and held her legs in the air.

“Can’t let any cum spill out now can we?” He smirked.

“Oh, fuck yes.” She whispered.

After he untied Steve, he cleaned Nancy up, and offered on of the rooms to rest.

“We’re okay, thank you.” Nancy said a huge smile on her face, like a cat that got the cream.

“Alright,, just eat some snacks, drink some water before you leave, and promise you’ll call me if either of you feel off.” He implored.

“We promise.” Steve said, giving Eddie some sort of bro hug.

They’d only been gone a few minutes when his next scene partner came in.

“Let’s get started.” He smiled at the new guy.

~~~

Three months later, Eddie was writing up a guide to the best non-bar queer places in the city, when Nancy walked into his office.

“Hey, you.” He said. Their friendship hadn’t changed at all since the party which he was super happy about.

“I’m pregnant.” Nancy sighed. Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Congratulations?” He asked, unsure what to say. Nancy nodded and pursed her lips.

“It’s yours.” She whispered. Eddie froze.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.” She sighed again. “Oh, shit.”

tags

@katyawriteswhump

buy me a coffee

[drowninginships]

WIP Wednesday

Hello again for yet another fantastic wipsday. Thank you @monbons for tagging me, you're so loyal.

Work has been crazy, so I haven't had a ton of time to write, but I'm hoping to get some done tonight actually. (I had a job interview today!) This fic is so much fun to write, and I find it comes really easily. As everyone knows, I'm writing this fic as a gift to @valeffelees (my best friend) (my soulmate) in an attempt to make him smile, so it's really cool to see so many other people gaining an interest in this one! I guess the fandom was starved for omegaverse. Well, without further ado - eat up.

Warning: this fic is rated E and this snippet reflects that rating. Proceed with horny caution.

A feverish growl tears itself from Baz’s throat. He’s never cared for dynamics before, designations that mean little in today’s world. He’s never been in rut, has never felt the primal need to fuck something until it bears the fruit of his seed. It’s primitive. Base. Beneath him. He feels it now, though. Snow’s head whips over his shoulder and he makes eye contact for the first time. He’s bloody gorgeous like this, Baz thinks distantly. Snow’s face is flushed a beautiful dark red, his cheeks stained with tear tracks. He can see more tears welling up in those blue, blue eyes, desperation taking shape. At the sight of an alpha, Snow loses his goddamn mind. Baz bears witness as Simon whines, long and loud. He pushes the sheets with his clenched fists, thrusting his hips backwards, trashing and reckless. Another blast of pheromones hits Baz, making his fangs pop. Fuck. Tears spill past wet eyelashes and follow the trail of those before, falling in fat drops down ruddy cheeks. “Alpha,” Snow cries.

I'll swap back to Simon's POV for the next one! Tags and hellos:

@valeffelees @mooncello @iamamythologicalcreature @roomwithanopenfire

@raenestee @artsyunderstudy @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold

@skeedelvee @ic3que3n @run-for-chamo-miles @thewholelemon

@bookish-bogwitch @rimeswithpurple @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony

[steviestits]

I Move the Stars For No One - Part 1.3

Written for a prompt dmed to me, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: After running away from home after an argument with his father, Steve storms off into the woods only to accidentally stumble into the unseelie king's lavish party. The king, Eddie as he likes to be called, is taken by Steve and dances through the night with him. Though Steve enjoys himself, he feels the need to return to the mortal realm, but soon learns that he can't as he has become property of the king after trespassing on a sacred fairy circle. Steve is forced to stay and begins to learn that all is not as it seems, especially in regards to his own past. (Labyrinth inspired story but they share zero plot points.) Trigger Warning: None for this chapter Eventual Trigger Warning: Feminization, Mating Rituals, Heats/Ruts but not the Omegaverse kind

(Link to previous part)

Steve inhaled sharply as he was tugged near until he could see every freckle on the fae king’s face. He was dazzled for a moment, only able to stare into Eddie’s big, brown eyes, but he quickly regained his senses and tried to shove the other away roughly. It felt like pushing against a steel wall as the other refused to budge.

“I don’t want to learn!” Steve huffed, punching his fists uselessly against Eddie’s chest. “You can have anyone in this room! Choose one of them to be yours!”

“Those fae aren’t half as beautiful as you, sweetheart. I mean, you have to see how jealous they are of you.”

Blush dusted Steve’s cheeks. He knew he was good looking in the human world, but here? Everyone had a deep otherworldly feel that added a strange depth to their allure. Though, he supposed the same could be said for Eddie since he was used to seeing these types of people and hadn’t been exposed to those outside his realm. Once Eddie got used to Steve’s unnaturalness then he’d tire of him and move on, just like everyone else he’d dated in the past.

“Just empty words and empty phrases,” Steve said. “It’s the passing fancy of a king, like a child with a new toy. Nothing more.”

“I can promise you that it’s not,” the fae king whispered, staring Steve down with a smoldering gaze. “Let me show you.”

Eddie then ran the knuckle of his index finger down Steve’s face, and the next thing Steve knew he was standing in a circular room that had a giant tree growing in the center. Branches strewn with light pink apple blossoms stretched up towards a starry lit ceiling. Steve would’ve thought they were stars, but they twisted down the tree like vines and wrapped around the posts of a bed nestled against the tree’s trunk. Sheer, white drapes hung between the posts, which matched the pure white linen sheets spread across it.

Moments after they arrived, a table and two chairs appeared in front of the bed. It matched the other wooden furniture in the room, except that it was a bit fancier as carved, gilded vines wound their way around their legs and the backs of the chair. Spread out atop the table were several frosted pastries on a three-tiered silver stand accompanied by a porcelain teapot, painted with a sprawling array of the most detailed meadow flowers that twisted and curled along its sides. Steve had honestly never seen anything like it except in historical movies.

“You missed the feast at the start of the ball,” Eddie explained. “Eat as much or as little as you want. If there’s anything else you want, then it’s yours.” Steve opened his mouth. “Anything but letting you go,” he added quickly as if sensing what Steve was about to say. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Going to spoil you rotten.”

“How do you know that I’m not already spoiled rotten by my own family?” Steve challenged. “They could be searching for me right now.”

Eyes lingering on the bruise forming on Steve’s face, the fae king said, “I highly doubt that.”

Shame and embarrassment ran through Steve as he hated how obvious it was that his parents cared so little about him. Or maybe it was Steve���s own fault for falling short of the plans that were laid out for him. Either way, no one at home would be looking for him as he knew his dad was waiting patiently for Steve to come crawling back.

“Enough talk about the mortal realm,” Eddie said. “Eat. Unless you’d prefer something else. I can change it to whatever you prefer.”

“This is fine.” Steve paused as his stomach grumbled. “They look tasty.”

“They’re yours. You’re free to have your fill.”

Steve stared longingly at the food on the table. He hadn’t had dinner because of the fight and had skipped lunch due to nerves after receiving his latest rejection letter. Legends had it that if one ate food in the fae realm then their fates would be sealed, and they would be unable to leave ever again. However, Steve didn’t know this due to his lack of fantasy education, and even if he did, his stomach gurgled loudly, demanding to be fed.

The rumbling was so loud that Eddie must had heard it, because he walked over to the table and picked up a flaky, round pastry with chocolate frosting to bring back to Steve. He held the pastry up to Steve’s mouth, waiting patiently. To Steve’s surprise, the fae king’s eyes were soft, gazing at Steve with a heated emotion that he’d never seen directed towards him until now.

Hunger gnawed at him further, and coupled with Eddie’s gaze, Steve leaned forward cautiously in order to bite the offered treat. His teeth dug into the flaky shell, only to be surprised when he bit into a pocket of sweet custard filling. The taste of the custard exploded on his tongue, causing Steve to groan with pleasure as he’d never had anything quite like this before, mostly because his dad thought sweets were girly but also because the flavor was just so good.

Eddie smirked affectionately. “Like it?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “It’s amazing.”

“Then have the rest. This is all for you.”

With less reservation this time, Steve ate the remains of the pastry in Eddie’s hand, blushing when the fae king’s fingers brushed softly against Steve’s lips. Eddie didn’t stop, however, and soon another pastry was against Steve’s mouth as the fae king eagerly fed him. He could’ve walked to the table to get his own, but he instead allowed Eddie to serve him, as if Steve was the king instead of an outsider.

Heat pooled within the core of Steve’s being, only he barely noticed. He was too caught up in the moment to realize that there was something strange about the way he was feeling. A change was about to happen, one that would change his life forever and throw everything he knew into question, not that Steve noticed. Not that Steve could look anywhere except the fae king’s eyes.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/740284683556929536/

Omg I'm so sorry! I wrote that anon when I was sleepy so it had very ham-fisted wording. Yes, I meant to ask about portraying self-esteem issues about bodies. I thought guys don't talk about it much.

To that one person, why would dudes comparing dick sizes be considered smut? I can see it being rated M. Are you suggesting the rating go up to E?

--

Ahahaha.

Uh... anon... if that's truly what you were trying to ask... I think maybe you need to work on your writing a bit more. The vibes you give off are odd, to say the least...

Like, creepy pervert angling for foot fetish photos while lying about what they want-level weird.

It sounds like you want to heavy-breathe while reading guys' descriptions of their own penises, not like you want help with writing.

--

The reason your ask reads so "She breasted boobily down the stairs" but from the other side is that guys, at least from what I've seen, do not stand around comparing their dicks, at least not in the way you implied.

The people who most commonly compare their junk out of curiosity are toddlers.

This is something tiny children do. Anecdotally, some teens do it, but a lot don't, and there are clickbait articles about athletes sizing each other up this way, but they are just that: clickbait. I'm not saying it never happens, but you wrote about it like it always happens.

It is fucking weird to have a grown-ass man routinely doing it outside of maaaaybe some weirdly homoerotic scene in a stoner comedy or something.

People joke about this practice because it's a thing that exists, not because it is ubiquitous.

That's also why it reads like porn. IRL, if some dude is like "I think we should compare our dicks... uh... and they should be hard so we can compare properly", many other guys are going to interpret that as sexual. And also self-deluding. Which is a good reason to say no.

--

Most people in locker rooms and public bathrooms try to give each other a little privacy if they can, regardless of gender. Openly ogling is what you do if you're about to proposition someone for sex. Or, if it's hostile, you stare because you're about to beat them up.

I'm not saying a guy couldn't sneakily see the size of another guy's junk and have a response, but the whole way you described this sounds like you've never spoken to a human before. Did you seriously get this idea from those clickbait articles?

Among other issues, penises become erect. They look different in different states of arousal. Surely, you've heard of "growers vs. showers"? Temperature also matters. There's a whole fucking bit on Seinfeld that everyone quoted for like years and is probably still quoting about "shrinkage"—i.e. a guy is insecure that someone saw him when he'd just gotten out of the pool and his dick looked small because he was cold. Hopefully, the locker room isn't that cold, but you still don't know what a dude's dick looks like all of the time from catching a glimpse of it one time.

So an adult man who is not completely unfamiliar with penises is not going to 1. openly stare at another man in the locker room and 2. look only at his penis and have some crisis about "Mine looks different".

I suppose for the right character in the right circumstances, you can sell any kind of goofy-ass reaction, including the "breasted boobily" stuff where women think consciously about their tits in a way that actual women generally don't and male authors love to write. But you have to make it a whole Thing. She has to have some reason why her nipples are super sensitive today and thus she pays attention when she normally wouldn't.

Instead, you keep asking these dumbass questions like you're 12 that boil down to "Literally all men are the same cardboard cutout based on their D&D stats from this character sheet. Please tell me some facts about these stats!" instead of approaching people as individual humans who all react differently. You haven't even said anything about what kind of culture these characters come from. Both personality and specific culture (not just big things like nationality but shit like whether they're athletes who change with the same guys all the time) are going to affect how and whether men talk about self esteem and bodies.

You're boiling this down to "What does the penis-having alien species all do?" despite already getting several answers that told you to stop doing that. You either didn't listen or didn't understand what people meant so badly that it's pointless to keep giving you help.

This is not a good way to write three-dimensional characters.

--

Now, I'm not saying nobody has ever snuck a peek in a locker room. Lots of people, regardless of gender, do that. But we're talking covert looks and that kind of looking gives you glimpses of many body parts and not always a very clear look either.

Most actual men on most actual days of their lives are going to feel insecure about their bodies relative to someone else because the other dude looks better at the gym or grows chest and facial hair more easily or is much taller or isn't going bald.

We love to make jokes about penis size, but in my experience, the level of perpetual crisis dudes have over potential baldness is way higher. There are a shitton of ways to be insecure about yourself and your body. That goes for any gender.

Maybe a dude feels insecure because the other guy is much less body-conscious and has an easier time changing in front of people or because he's paid five times as much and is changing into a thousand dollar suit.

Many of the markers of masculinity and attractiveness have very little to do with penises.

There's also a vast difference between your POV character thinking some other dude's huge package is admirable and your POV character thinking he himself is inadequate. He could think his own dick is average and that it would be nicer to be hung like a pornstar without being insecure about it. He could also have a big dick yet still be insecure about it because he's a weirdo who's obsessed with penis size. He could be a size queen who wants to take a ride on that. He could have an ex girlfriend who thought big penises hurt and be creepily fascinated and wonder whom this guy fucks and how they manage.

--

All this shit is a character point. Stop treating it as immutable truth where someone can give you the Correct Answer™ for you to slot into your writing or spank bank fantasies.

[cookieswithay]

🎄Christmas Rottmnt...headcanonsish!

(🎅Rated E for everyone!)

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

• Leo, the snowman☃️

• "Okay, my little mistletoe~"

• Leo purred (with his usual charming smile.) He set his hands on the box. Sticking his fingers directly under the seams of the wrapping paper.

• "Let's see what you got me."

• With one motion, ALL the wrapping paper torn was off. Super confused and a little impressed, you looked too Donnie.

• "Leo has the "perfect" method to remove wrapping paper."

• He replied, deadpan. You snickered and looked back at your boyfriend, waiting for his reaction.

• He raised it up.

• "What's this?"

• He asked, softly. You cleared your throat. Time for the present's dramatic origin story! You sat down next to him.

• "I noticed whenever you post your "champion" pictures on Tok Tik, you only have shades and a robe hanging off of you."

• You looked down and tugged a loose thread out of your jeans.

• "So, I bought you a crown."

• "It'll look nice on you."

• ...That didn't sound nearly as powerful as it did in your head.

• Leo closed his mouth and put the his crown back in the box. He just stared at with a neutral expression. You looked around.

• "...Do you like it-?"

• The moment those words left your mouth, you were smooched and spun around in the air.

• "Oh my gosh! You are so thoughtful!"

• Leo shouted, still spinning you. You said a dizzy "yer welcome" and he finally stopped.

• "Hold on, I got the perfect thing."

• He said. He rummaged through his jean pockets. And out came the pinnacle of Christmas traditions.

• "Mistletoe~"

• Your cheeks burned. He's not gonna set you free in awhile.

🎄

• Donnie claus🎅

• "You're my secret Santa, right?"

• Donnie asked. You nodded quickly. That was his, alright. You made the "go on" motion. Normally, you're not one to rush, but you were dying to see his reaction. Noticing your eagerness, he snickered and slowly peeled the wrapping paper away.

• He looked closer.

• "Lou jitsu: the video game?"

• You slid next to him, bumping his shoulder.

• "Uh-huh. But unlike the original that only pixels, this is remastered."

• You replied, rolling the R. Noticing all the brothers looked puzzled, you decided to go with the simple yet awesome explanation. You stood up.

• "Let's just say I persuaded Jace into remaking the game this Christmas."

• You said with a smug smile. Obviously, you let your fist do the talking. You're real, like that. Donnie shot up next to you.

• "You shook down the purple dragons for me?"

• You nodded.

• "Even got 'im add to a dlc."

• "Plot written by me, of course."

• D took a breath, kissed you on the cheek, and headed towards the bathroom.

• "Where are you going?"

• Mikey asked. (Already tearing into his present.)

• "Too much eggnog."

• Donnie said, tearfully.

🎄

• Mikey, the red nosed reindeer🦌

• "Wow...it's so big!"

• Mikey laughed. He shook the box around. Which was bad for the gift.

• "Is it just one thing or a bunch of doohickeys?"

• You clamped your hands over his, your chest on his shell.

• "Just open it and find out."

• You said calmly, hiding your nervousness well. He nodded and got to shredding. He was gobsmacked when he saw the shinier box underneath.

• "Oh. Me. Gosh."

• "The Jupiter Jim super awesome fan box!?"

• You nodded, a little smile on your face. You gifted all the boys (and Splinter) Jupiter Jim stuff, but...your boyfriend got the best one.

• "Aw, what?"

• Leo whined in the background. You weren't sure why he was pouting. You got him the BIG set of JJ posters.

• "Posters, stickers, comic books,"

• "Ah! It's got everything!"

• Mikey looked at you with a HUGE smile. You suddenly lost your footing and was pulled into a very tight hug.

• "You're the nicest, sweetest, nicest, person ever."

• He gushed into your shoulder. You kissed him on the cheek and then realized your leg kinda hurts...Did this boy trip you?

🎄

• Raph Frost❄

• "Can I take off the blindfold now?"

• Raph asked, reaching for it. You answered with a sharp 'no' and he totally stopped. He was pretty confused since wrapping paper is enough to cover a gift. Why all the secrecy? After some scuffling and scolding Splinter for trying to "taste test" the gift, you put your hand on Raph's.

• "Okay...you can take it off now."

• You said, quietly. He snatched the 'fold off and looked down. His mouth instantly watered.

• "You made me a cake!?"

• You nodded, getting shy. You wiped your hands wiped on your apron.

• "Funds were kinda low this year, so I could only make you somethi-"

• Raph pulled you close.

• (With one hand, mind you.)

• "Are you kidding? I can't wait to eat this circle of festive goodness!"

• "Donnie grab the plates!"

• You felt, lowkey overwhelmed. You were expecting an awkward 'thank you' and the silent treatment. But...he's super happy. About an edible gift!?

• "You're okay with gift you can only have today!?"

• You asked, still squished against his plastron.

• "Of course, I got it from you after all."

• That one sentence...melted your frozen heart. Why is he the absolute sweetest?...But, it's just for today though! You sighed and laid into on his front shell.

• "Merry Christmas, ya dork."

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

Merry Christmas! This was a last minute post, but I'm glad I did it. Did you notice the difference of each reader? I hope so. Please be merry and reblog! That would make me happy. Stay warm today everyone🥰

(Reblog list: @usoppsstar, @takibikaen, @futuristicmage, @whattraintracks, @cottoncandyclown123,)

(Most of those people are the ones who read part 2 and 1 of Donnie 0 recently. Sorry if I missed you. Merry Christmas!)

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 28

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

9k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, fighting and making up

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This is it, my dudes! The final chapter. No epilogue, because I don't think this story needs it. Thank you for all your comments, likes, and reblogs! Your support has kept me going. I'll post a masterlist directly.

28

Today’s volunteers had been abuzz with the news of Chief Jim Hopper’s miraculous return from the dead. The story was he’d uncovered a terrorist plot and worked with the government to thwart the radicals. Starcourt Mall had been the unfortunate backdrop of the confrontation.

It was also unfortunate a surviving radical had recognized Hopper. Since Hopper had been in danger, he’d been put in a protection program until the threat had been eliminated.

Rumor had it he’d been involved in defeating the rest of these radicals, who had something to do with Hawkins National Laboratory.

You didn’t bother to point out the specific government agency had been conveniently omitted. Same with the terrorist organization. Over sandwiches in the courtyard, Steve said Hawkins Lab had been closed for over a year when Starcourt’s fire occurred.

Nevertheless, while there had been casualties at Starcourt, they’d been few. Everyone considered Hopper a local hero.

A few volunteers discussed Eddie, too. They felt sorry for him and insisted they’d never believed those ugly rumors. Eddie was an orphan who’d been taken in by his uncle Wayne. Wasn’t that sad? Why, they’d known Wayne Munson for years! Wayne was an upright person. A veteran, too. There was no way he would’ve tolerated Devil-worship under his roof.

Those horrible classmates — bullies, really — must’ve targeted Eddie because he was different. Being different wasn’t a crime! Besides, Eddie had never hurt anyone. He performed at The Hideout with his little band all the time. One volunteer knew The Hideout’s owner, Cliff, who said Eddie was a good, if weird, kid.

You’d nodded and hummed in agreement while sorting donated home goods. There was no point in calling them hypocrites. Perhaps some of them weren’t. You wished you’d gone to that town hall meeting with your parents. Then you’d be able to pick out the liars.

On the way home in Steve’s car, Robin turned in the front seat to face you.

“You know, people want to be on the winning side. They like to think of themselves as smart enough to know who’s telling the truth.”

“But they were blinded by fear,” you said in agreement. “And looking for someone to blame.”

Steve said, “Like the pilgrims burning all the witches in Salem.”

You and Robin shared a look. He was close enough.

“Yup,” she said.

He appeared proud to have contributed to the conversation.

Robin rested her chin on her forearm.

“Eddie’s lucky you found him before anyone else.”

“Outside of the military, yeah, I guess.” You offered a bitter grin. “Who knows what they would’ve done to him if he’d survived Vecna.”

Though you don’t think he would have. Most likely, he would’ve dropped dead with the rest of the hivemind. If you hadn’t died from taking part of Vecna’s curse earlier, you might’ve shared that fate.

Steve said, “God, I’m so glad that fuckface’s dead.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Robin said with a grin.

Once at Steve’s, you three talked about dinner. Steve had pulled everything this morning to make a pan of baked ziti with roasted broccoli on the side. Robin made a disgusted face at the mention of a vegetable. You laughed at her scrunched nose and tongue poking out. Robin exclaimed eating broccoli was like eating green farts while Steve opened the front door.

Classical music played from the sunroom’s stereo system.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, projecting his voice as he tossed his keys into the bowl on the foyer table.

The music cut off, leaving a silence that felt as if you needed to pop your ears.

Robin kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket on an empty hanger in the closet. She reached for yours as Eddie jogged across the living room.

“Hey, good day?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he said to Steve, “I know this is a pain in the ass, but would you take me to my van? I want to do it before it gets dark. It’s on Coal Mill.”

“Dude, I gotta start dinner.”

Robin held up her hands when Eddie looked at her.

“No license. And the last time I tried to cook in that kitchen, I almost set everything on fire.”

Steve smirked.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah? Tell that to your smoke detector that wouldn’t shut up for fifteen minutes.”

You snorted to hide the pang at being Eddie’s last choice and shrugged your jacket back onto your shoulders.

“I guess that leaves me.”

With a pat to your pockets, confirming you had your wallet and keys, you left the house. Eddie bumbled out the front door a minute later, swinging on a navy sport coat that was a size too big. It clashed with his green track pants and untied blue sneakers.

You kept your comments to yourself as you unlocked your car and got behind the wheel. Eddie sat in the passenger seat as you started the engine. The stereo came to life. The Sisters of Mercy simmered through the speakers. You hit the power button, cutting them off.

Sounding amused, Eddie said, “I haven’t heard that in a while.”

“I was in the mood for them the other day.”

“You can turn it back on, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” You shifted the car into Drive. “How do I get to Coal Mill?”

“Uh, take a left. We’ll go the back way.”

You nodded and pulled onto the street. He tied his sneakers. At the first intersection, he directed you to go left. The evening sun’s golden light flickered between the trees. This far from the nexus, the woods appeared unaffected by the poisonous ash. You mentioned it. Eddie asked how downtown was faring.

You lifted a shoulder.

“It’s like a war zone and a natural disaster had a horrible, mangled baby.”

He laughed. “Vivid.”

“There’re construction crews all over, and the school gets dusty overnight. We have to cover everything with sheets before we leave. People sleep with masks on.”

“What a nightmare.”

You nodded as you passed the turnoff to Sattler’s Quarry.

After that, the road narrowed and twisted. Eddie navigated you through more intersections and over train tracks. You passed farmhouses with fields of growing corn and pastures for cattle. He had you take a road into the woods where squat houses sat close together.

The road dead-ended with Coal Mill Road T-ing into it. Behind the houses, sunlight reflected off rippling water. He advised you to park in the gravel at the side of the road; his van wasn’t far. You found a wide, flat section and stopped the car. The peaceful neighborhood didn’t seem the place to stash a van.

You then recognized the house reflected in the rearview mirror as the one from the broadcast identifying Eddie as a suspect. That had been a shitty day. Even for you.

Eddie opened the passenger door. You blinked out of the memory, unlatched your seatbelt, and got out of the car. He was quiet as you came to his side. His grim face had you reaching for his hand.

He stiffened at the touch.

You recoiled and looked away. Rather than the quiet hurt you expected, though you were hurt, this white-hot feeling spread through you. Your jaw locked and vision narrowed. Each inhale became deliberate. You wanted to claw at his pretty face.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

That pretty face became dismissive, and he stepped onto the road towards the woods.

Over his shoulder, he asked, “What do you mean, what’s my problem?”

“You’re…” You struggled to find a word as you followed, but the only one came. “Skittish. I don’t know.”

“I’m not skittish.”

A few yards down from your car, he separated two shrubs to reveal parallel tire ruts in the grass.

“You are!” You waved a hand at his back. “You are. You won’t sit next to me. You won’t touch me. Not that I expect you to be all over me, but you don’t reach for me.”

He stepped between the shrubs and held one back for you.

“I—”

“I take your hand, you flinch.” You tramped into the underbrush and onto a rut. “I sit next to you, you make sure there’s plenty of space between us. I make a move, and it’s always wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said, letting the shrub go.

“Really?”

He went to the other rut. You stopped to glare at him.

Did he not see the irony of maintaining four feet of distance?

“Really?”

“I…” He frowned, though he continued walking. “I don’t want to crowd you.”

“Eddie, you’ve had your dick in me.” You resumed walking. “And I’ve never pushed you away.”

In fact, you had only pushed him away when he’d been under Vecna’s control. When it was just the two of you, the thought never crossed your mind.

He sighed.

“I’ve needed space.”

“Then tell me that. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” That heat inside you vanished. “You’re not obligated to… to do anything.”

“No, it’s not that.” He stopped and glanced at you. “I haven’t felt like myself since…”

“Yeah.”

“No, not like— It’s like…” He sighed again, his face twisting up. “There’s this emptiness.”

What could you say to that? You wouldn’t diminish his experience by saying plenty of people felt that. His was different. It wasn’t anything one could ignore or fill. You remembered dissolving into silence, and how it had swallowed everything.

You said softly, “Like a hunger.”

He met your gaze. In the sepia light and dusty shade, his brown eyes appeared darker and more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I don’t want it to touch you.”

You shook your head.

“It’s not a stranger.”

He looked away, into the trees, chin quivering. The tip of his nose turned pink. You wanted to kiss it, kiss him, make it better somehow. You took a hesitant half-step to take his hand, at least, but he walked farther into the woods.

With a deep breath, you followed a couple paces behind. The ruts curved around a dead pine and disappeared behind a thicket. Eddie knelt at the far side of the pine to dig into the rust-colored needles. An old camouflage net covered his boxy van from roof to tires.

You pushed up your sleeves while circling the van.

As you came around, he said, “Look, I know you’re too smart to believe the shit Vecna said.” He pulled something from the needles. “But I want… I want you to hear it from me—”

“Eddie.” You shook your head again. “That’s—”

“No, let me get this out. Every shitty thing he said — I said — was a lie.” The metallic jingle of keys punctuated his statement. “I don’t believe any of it. I never thought it.”

While you didn’t doubt Eddie, there was a part of you that wondered if Vecna was right. You were privileged. Your parents could afford to send you to any college. They’d even set up a savings account for you. You didn’t have to worry about a part-time job. You had a car. You’d been protected from the banal cruelty in the world. You’d taken so much for granted over the years. On top of that, you were a witch.

He straightened and looked at you.

“I don’t know how to prove it. All I got is my word.”

“No, no, I believe you,” you said, holding up your hands.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“What?”

“You saved me, sweetheart.” A corner of his mouth quirked. “Kinda feels like a blood debt.”

You grinned.

“Is that a real thing?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I don’t know, but, Eddie…” You drew closer to him. “You owe me nothing. You’ll never owe me.”

The keys rattled in his hand. His gaze darted away.

You continued, “I know what I did spooked you, but I did it because I love you. And it’s okay if you don’t…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard to breathe or think or control the swelling sob in your chest. A tear rolled down your cheek, and you swiped it away.

Eddie’s head tilted in sympathy, lips thinning. He stepped near and offered his empty hand. It was the first time he’d done that in days.

Your vision prismed with fresh tears as you grasped his hand. The callused pads of his fingers scuffed against your skin. Your sob transformed into a long exhale.

“Vecna took you from me,” you said, and sniffed back the wet clog in your nose and wiped at your eyes. “I did it because you’re mine. Because he hurt us — hurt me.” You barked a laugh. “Now that I say it out loud, I hear how fucking selfish I am.”

You met his red-rimmed eyes. He shook his head like he couldn’t accept you were selfish. Regardless of his belief, you were, but you’d try not to be with him.

You whispered, “Even if we don’t stay together, you’ll never owe me. You’ll always be special to me.”

He tugged you near and put your palm on his sternum with his hand covering yours. His chest rose and fell because he’d pushed Vecna out, because you’d brought him back. That was something you’d never regret.

His voice was a hoarse whisper as he said, “I love you too, and you didn’t spook me. Don’t… don’t hide from me.”

As gently as you could, you said, “I’m not the one who’s been hiding.”

He stared at your stacked hands.

“Jesus Christ, I’ve been fucking up so goddamn bad.” He shook his head, his hair obscuring part of his face. “I hadn’t protected you. God, I actually hurt you. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t even fucking graduate.”

If his last statement was an obstacle, you would’ve tripped over it.

He couldn’t graduate? That made no sense. Nothing was official yet, of course, but Dr. Owens hadn’t balked at the party’s insistence of all the seniors graduating. Had no one told him? Hadn’t it been mentioned in conversation?

“Wait,” you said, trying to remember if anyone had brought it up.

He watched you from under his bangs, eyes so fawn-like, a little furrow between his brows.

You said, “I thought Steve told you about the party’s demands.”

He angled his head.

“No…?”

“One was all the seniors graduating, regardless of standing.” You took hold of his coat’s lapel. “What did you have in O’Donnell’s?”

“A low D.”

“D’s passing.” You grinned. “You’re graduating, anyway, but you passed her class. That’s all you needed, right?”

His eyes went wide and lips parted as he nodded. You glanced at his full bottom lip while scraping your own between your teeth. You hadn’t kissed him in ages.

You stepped closer and slid your hand from his lapel.

“Congratulations,” you said before rising and pressing your lips to his.

He gasped. His lips dragged against yours. Then he jolted, pulling away.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why would you hurt me?”

His gaze slithered from your lips to your neck to the neckline of your shirt in an invisible touch.

“What if I lose control?”

You studied his worried face in the dimming light.

“Is it the emptiness?” you asked.

He nodded, casting his gaze to the side.

You remembered how predatory Eddie had looked with the MP’s blood on his chin. That hadn’t been Eddie. Not entirely. That had been the hivemind of bloodthirsty carnivores.

“Is it…” You didn’t know how to be tactful with this. “Do you want my blood?”

His tongue worked in his mouth, licking his canine, before he said, “I don’t know.”

You cradled his jaw over the scar and eased his head forward. His focus remained to the side.

“Please, look at me.”

His irises swung to meet yours. A flicker of sunlight illuminated them cinnamon sweet. His dark lashes fluttered as he blinked.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me,” you said. “But if you want to try—”

His posture went rigid as he shook his head. His hand pressed yours tighter to his chest.

“No.”

You pressed on.

“If you want to try my blood, I’ll let you.” You grazed the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “I’m not scared.”

He closed his eyes, mouth pinching and brows furrowing.

“Honey, don’t be scared.” You stroked his cheek to his clenched jaw. “It’s just me and you here.”

“Yeah, it’s just me and you.”

You sighed.

“What, you think you can kill me? You think I’d let you? You think I don’t know my limits?”

He opened his eyes, which blazed with anger and frustration and panic.

“What if I don’t know mine anymore, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you said, “Then we’ll discover them together.”

With your hand on his chest, you pushed him towards the van. He bumbled backwards, dropping the keys. His back collided with a dull clunk. You slid your hand from his chest to the van, boxing him in, and pressed your front along his.

“Fucking trust me.”

“I do.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

He nodded, throat bobbing with a swallow.

“Are you sure?”

Again, he nodded.

You closed the distance with a hand on his nape. He angled his head, lips moving counter to yours. The kiss stole your breath and thought. You ravaged, biting his bottom lip. His hands cupped your ass and drew you against him. He plundered, groaning as your tongues slid over each other.

Teeth scraped your lip, yet it didn’t frighten you. Let them break skin. You didn’t care.

Trembling hands snuck under your shirt. He pulled at your waist, making your back arch. You mewled into the kiss and plunged your fingers into his messy hair. His tentative palms skimmed up your back.

You shivered as your nipples pebbled.

You broke the kiss to whisper, “Touch me. It’s okay. I trust you.”

His eyes gleamed as he drew his swollen bottom lip between his teeth. He spread his feet and maneuvered you between his knees. The firm mound of his erection pressed into your belly. He trailed his hands down to your ass. His fingers met at the central seam of your jeans.

“You’re so hot here.”

“Because of you.”

He caught your lips in another kiss. You gripped his hair as the woods went fuzzy. His hands, more confident, skated up your ass, under your shirt, and up your sides. Cool air swept over your skin. You inhaled as he found the band of your unsexy bra. The earlier work at the school hardly warranted anything fancy.

Eddie didn’t seem to mind. A hungry noise came from his chest as he fondled the underside of your breasts through the bra. He sucked on your bottom lip, and the sensation flowed through you like water. Your nipples tightened further. Your cunt clenched.

“God, you’re so soft.”

You caressed the warm skin at his nape, saying, “I’ve missed you.”

Without waiting for a response, you kissed him. His fingers dragged across your breasts until he pinched your nipples between his thumbs and sides of his palms.

You gasped at the wicked frisson, angled your face up to catch your breath, and writhed. You pressed your hips to his, the thick seam of your jeans rasped between your legs. He rocked his erection against you. New heat zinged down to your toes.

Voice husky, he said, “Fuck, I missed you, too.”

He kissed the side of your neck. Each kiss became more open-mouthed. His tongue moved as if he tasted more than your skin. He pulled his sharp teeth across the big tendon in your neck, like he was teasing you both. The threat of a bite had your heart beating double-time and eyes rolling back.

He pinched your nipples harder, making your lower body squirm from the ache. You kept your chest and neck still as you waited to feel what he’d do. He groaned and mouthed his way to the artery under your jaw. He sucked hard at the skin there, mouth scalding. You gasped at the delicious pain.

“Jesus,” he said between pants against the sore spot.

As his saliva cooled on your skin, you swooped down to kiss him once more. His tongue slid over yours as his hands left your breasts. You held his head in place by the hair, losing yourself to the decadent back and forth.

He folded his arms around you when you held his smooth cheek. There was no panic here. There were no monsters. It was only you and him, sharing breath and touch.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Good.”

You stroked his cheekbone.

“That’s all that matters.”

“I didn’t… freak you out there?”

“By giving me a hickey?” You smiled with a chuckle. “No.” You brushed your lips against his. “I like wearing your mark.”

His cheeks pinked further. He made a happy sound and buried his face in your neck once more.

“Gonna give me another one, baby?”

Muffled against your skin, he said, “I might.”

Tightening your hold in his hair, you pulled his head back. He looked at you with hazy eyes. His red lips parted, breaths shallow.

“Gorgeous,” you said.

His gaze drifted to the side. He wanted to shy away, but you wouldn’t have it.

“You act like I haven’t seen you, but I have.” You traced the scar on his jaw. “And nothing’s changed for me.”

He met your eyes, his own bright with conviction.

“Me neither, I swear, milady.”

You smiled at the endearment you hadn’t heard in too long.

“Then no more hot-and-cold, good sir.”

He nodded as much as he could.

“I’m with you.”

“No half-assed crap, either. I mean it, Eddie,” you said, relinquishing your grip on his hair and lacing your fingers behind his neck.

His spine straightened as if coming to attention.

“Whole-ass-ing it from here on out.”

“Good, I like your ass.”

“I like yours, too.”

His eyes lit with mischief, reminding you of the Eddie you’d first met. The one who quoted the Scorpions during roll call, who always answered the phone, who howled during concerts.

A hand gripped the underside of your ass-cheek and gave it a squeeze. It put to mind him holding you against the cold wall behind The Hideout and fucking you with hungry desperation. You wanted that with him.

“Wanna go home and prove it?” you asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He gave you a toothy grin.

“Absolutely.”

He didn’t release you, nor you him, despite the blue of the sky having faded to ginger and blushing violet. Rose-gold sunlight graced the tree tops. Once gentle shadows were now hard-edged and inky.

You liked the heat radiating from under his thin t-shirt and all the evidence he was alive. He’d survived. You had as well. He must’ve had a similar idea, because he surveyed you with loving eyes.

You swayed.

“Let’s go, Muffin Man.”

He groaned and let his head flop back.

“I swear to God, that’s adorable when we were high, but you cannot say that in front of our friends.”

“Not even—”

His head shot up.

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you said with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, well, please continue, sweet lady.”

“I was going to say, not even—” You imitated his dramatics as you said, “The Muffin of Demonic Charm!?”

He laughed. “I only like the ‘muff’ part of that.”

You backed away with a giggle, sticking out your tongue. His hands went to the sides of his head, pointer fingers out, and stuck his tongue out at you.

You said, “You won’t get any part of that out here.”

He fluttered the tip of his tongue.

“Tempting, but no.”

He spread the sport coat and posed like a centerfold to entice, hip canting to the side and his chest arched.

“Oh, if only I had a camera, baby.” You found the forgotten keys amongst the pine needles and dead leaves. “You’d make Goodwill a lot of money in their annual calendar,” you said and tossed the keys at him.

He straightened to catch them, juggling them to his chest.

“I’ll have you know—” He swept his empty hand down his body. “—all of this is House of Harrington.”

“How chic.”

“Very exclusive.” He pointed to the corner of the van for you to help gather the netting. “Not just anyone can say they’ve worn Steve Harrington’s tighty whities.”

You laughed and lifted the corner of the netting.

Together, you uncovered the van. Eddie gathered the netting and kicked it under the thicket before going to the passenger door to open it for you.

“I’ll drop you off at your car.”

You thanked him and climbed into the stuffy van. The scent of old smoke, warmed plastic, and upholstery seasoned with boy invaded your nose. You rolled the window down halfway after he closed the door.

With a glance at the vacant back, you thought of Corroded Coffin’s equipment there. You’d seen little of Jeff, Gareth, or Dougie at school. You hadn’t asked Eddie if they still played at The Hideout. You hadn’t asked him about a lot of things. There was so much you’d missed since New Year’s.

Eddie opened the driver-side door and hopped in. He made a face, then rolled down his window.

He turned all the air-system controls off, saying, “Cross your fingers she’ll cooperate.”

He shoved the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered and whined and chugged until something aligned, and it roared to life. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, throwing you a laugh.

You smiled back and fastened your seatbelt.

He shifted into Reverse and maneuvered away from the thicket. The tires spun in the layer of pine needles and budding grass before finding traction. The van lurched forward. You hung onto the seatbelt and prayed the van wouldn’t get stuck. It was too old for off-roading. He steered onto the ruts, tires kicking up dirt as they bit into the earth.

Your prayers were unnecessary or maybe something out there listened to you, because a minute later the van was on the pavement and next to your car.

“Your noble steed, milady.”

With a smirk, you said, “I thought that was you, stud.”

He leaned in, eyes sparking.

“I’m at your beck and call.”

You bent close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

“Get me home, sir, and I’ll show my appreciation for your fealty.”

His eyes darted to your lips.

“I can do that.”

Tilting your head as if to kiss him, you said, “I know you can,” and moved away to unfasten your seatbelt.

His head drooped.

He looked at you when you opened the door, expression amused.

You said, “Don’t go too fast, honey, wouldn’t want to get pulled over.”

“Depends on who’s doing the pulling over, sweetheart.”

You smiled, shaking your head at the cheesy line, and left the van. His attention stayed on you as you crossed to your car, like fingers trailing down your spine.

Once in the car, you made a U-turn and followed him to Steve’s. Eddie was something of a lead-foot, but you could keep up easily. He parked in front of the garage at Steve’s. You stopped next to him and locked up.

He met you at your trunk and offered his elbow.

“Not too fast for you?”

You snaked your arm around his bicep.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He hummed in agreement as he walked with you to the front door.

“Um, I know this is out of left field,” you said, “but I thought about the rest of the band. I hadn’t seen them at school, except in the hallways sometimes. Like, I don’t share any classes with Jeff or Dougie.”

“Last time I saw them was during the last Hellfire meeting.”

“Maybe you should call them? Now that your name’s cleared, it’s safe for all of you.”

“I don’t know…”

“They’re probably worried about you.” You squeezed his arm. “And unlike me, they can’t use magic to track down your ass.”

He bobbed his head once.

“I’ll call them tomorrow.”

“Good.”

You stopped him before he could make his way to the front door. He turned to you, gaze searching.

The blue hour painted him in shades of purple. Warm light from the porch sconces and nearby kitchen window caught in the waves of his hair. He was a fallen angel, halo stripped yet seraphic nature undeniable.

That felt like a line from someone more imaginative. You were no poet, though you wished you were.

Softly, he asked, “What is it?”

You shook off the thought and grinned.

“Nothing, I just… I just like you like this.”

He glanced at himself before giving you a wry look.

“In borrowed clothes with dirty hands?”

“No, butthead.” You jostled him by the arm. “I like you here — with me.”

That wry look disappeared. His eyes rounded, earnest and affectionate. He drew you in with a gentle hand on your nape and kissed you. His lips were tender on yours in silent relief, as though you’d surprised him. While he’d withdrawn after Vecna’s defeat, and you’d been uncertain about a future with him, you still loved him. That had never changed.

You threw yourself into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Blood rushed through your veins. Your cheeks burned as the kiss deepened. His other hand clutched your hip to guide you against him.

It was easy to lose yourself with him. It was easy to love him, and he made it easy to let yourself be loved.

He cradled the back of your head like you were priceless. He held you like he couldn’t get close enough. The mark on your neck was a brand of sweet possession.

At an inevitable pause, you said, “Let’s go inside.”

“I can’t sit through dinner.” With a small shake of his head, he said, “I can’t wait.”

“Then we won’t. We’ll go straight to your room.”

“What about…?” He gave you a meaningful look. “Condoms?”

“I got it covered.”

“Sounds like I’ll be saying that later.”

You laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder. He looked pleased with himself and trotted to the front door. Hand on the doorknob, he glanced back to make sure you were behind him.

You whispered, “Wait,” and drew energy up your body. It had been so long since you’d obfuscated your presence to sneak around, you’d nearly forgotten it as an option. You laced your fingers with Eddie’s, including him in the silent bubble you created.

“Keep close and avoid making too much noise.”

He nodded before easing the door open.

A top-40s station played on the radio in the sunroom. Robin and Steve’s voices floated from the kitchen. They remained out of sight even after you gently shut the door.

You directed Eddie to the stairs and remained a tread behind him as you both climbed. Once on the second floor, you ushered him to his room. He left the door ajar and lights off. You padded to your room, pocketed the couple of condom packets you’d stolen days ago from Steve’s nightstand, and slunk to Eddie’s room.

He sat at the head of the bed, blanket hiding his lower half with his t-shirt covering the upper. You closed the door and locked it. By the meager light coming through the window, you found the nearest lamp and clicked it on.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, sure, fine, why?”

The sport coat and track pants draped across the armchair. The sneakers and socks lay jumbled by the bathroom door.

“Just asking.”

You crossed the room and set the condom packets on the nightstand at Eddie’s side. He remained motionless, hands hidden in the rumpled sheets. You perched at the edge of the bed while he stared at the condoms.

Something was off. He should be flirting or reaching for you. What had happened between kissing you, saying he couldn’t wait to be with you, and now? Most guys would be naked and panting like a dog for sex.

With a minute shrug, you said, “If you don’t want to…”

“No! No, I do. Trust me, I do.”

“But…?”

He exhaled.

“I don’t… You should know, I don’t look the same.”

“I’ve seen you in only a towel. I’m aware of what you look like.”

“That’s not up close and personal.”

“You think I’m going to run screaming from some scars?”

He said, “Look, baby, I’m a horror show under this,” and plucked at the t-shirt.

You let out an exasperated sound. “Are you trying to push me away? Again?”

“No—”

“Do you not want me?”

“Oh my god, I want you.” He scooted to you and cupped your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks. Months!”

“Well, me too!” You held one of his wrists. “Anything you got under there is gonna work for me, okay?”

He scanned your face, gaze roaming from your eyes to your lips and back.

The protective blessing you’d placed in his handkerchief had failed you — and him. Your magic had been nothing compared to Vecna’s power. Eddie had pushed out the hivemind on his own. He was so much stronger than he gave himself credit for.

Through a constricted throat, you said, “Your blood soaked through your clothes.” Your eyes pricked with tears. “You di-died in front of me.”

Eddie leaned in, crushing your lips together. You forgot about tears and the feel of his blood thick between your fingers. He tilted your head. His lips, puffy and slick, glided across yours.

“I’m here,” he said, and kissed you again. “I’m right here.”

You kissed him in reply, letting your greed and relief guide you.

You shimmied your jacket off your shoulders. His hands went to your arms to help tug it off. You grinned into the kiss when the fabric caught on your forearms. He huffed, amused, before yanking at the sleeves. You shook your arms free and flung the jacket.

Planting a knee on the bed, you crowded him back onto the pillows. He put his hands at your waist and pulled you onto him. You straddled his hips, the linens bunching between you.

He hauled you up his body to tuck his face against your throat. He mouthed and bit at your neck, all hesitation thrown to the side. You encouraged him with a whimper and fingers gripping his hair. His soft lips left a fiery line as his hands grabbed your ass.

You arched your back. Your ribs pumped with every rapid breath.

“Wanna eat you alive,” he said. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

“Want you, too.”

Teeth scraped under your jaw, catching on the sore hickey there. You gasped, yet refused to shy away. Let him bite and draw blood. Let it hurt. You could heal yourself.

With a groan, he dug his teeth midway down your neck. The sting made your spine melt. His palms slid up your back, taking your shirt with them. Then he sucked, and you felt it between your legs.

You ground against him — as much as you could through the layers of fabric. You needed to feel his heat, taste his skin and scars. Because he was alive, and you were in his bed.

When he released your skin, sensation beyond pain, beyond heat, bloomed through your neck. It rang in your ears, fisted a groan from your lungs, stole your strength. He folded his rangy arms around you and grazed his lips over the spit-wet spot.

You closed your eyes with a hum.

He kissed you from jaw to cheek. He even kissed your chin. You curled to catch his lips in a languid kiss. It went aggressive in a handful of seconds. You couldn’t tell who set it in motion, but you’d follow it through with sucking on the tip of his tongue and biting his lip. He shivered and squirmed and held onto your waist.

You broke the kiss to leave him reeling.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

He nodded, eyes half-closed.

“Then let me take care of what’s mine.”

Again, he nodded.

You directed Eddie’s hands to the pillow, letting your fingertips linger on the silky insides of his forearms. His t-shirt sleeves slipped up to expose scarring on his upper arms. You pressed your lips to the delicate scar tissue.

He inhaled sharply.

You whispered, “It’s okay.”

He closed his eyes with a brief nod.

You kissed the scar on his jaw and the faint one at the side of his neck. He angled his chin to expose himself. In reward, you kissed his lips. His muscles unspooled. You brushed your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

You wiggled down his torso and sat up. Oh-so slowly, you skimmed your hands under his t-shirt to his sides. The jagged edge of a bigger patch on his torso peeked from under the t-shirt’s hem. The uneven texture of the scars didn’t feel ugly or rough. They were interesting, and you wanted to see them.

He clapped his hands over yours.

You met his uneasy gaze and waited, keeping your expression open. While you could offer platitudes or compliments, they’d ring hollow. He knew how you felt and how you viewed him. It was only a matter of time for him to gain confidence — or at least trust you.

His hold relaxed, then gradually drifted away.

You followed the taper of his torso until you held his undulating ribs. With the t-shirt bunched at his pecs, you could assess the havoc the bats had wrought. Beyond the patch on his lower torso was a line of bites and healed sutures on his left. A wedge of pink scar tissue defaced the right side of his ribs. Between the larger patches were claw and teeth marks.

You traced them with a light touch before looking at his face. His teeth dug into his lip as his gaze jumped from between your bodies to the side to your face and back again.

“So, this is the horror show you promised?” you asked with a playful look.

He frowned, mouth opening.

Before he spoke, you asked, “Can you feel my touch?”

He wet his lips and nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t—”

“No, I don’t whatever. I’m not grossed out.”

To prove your point, you bent to kiss the bite mark on his sternum. The satiny, pitted skin wasn’t disgusting. It was just skin — that smelled like him. You nudged the t-shirt higher to get at his left nipple. You teased it with your tongue, and he stilled. You pinched it between your teeth, and he arched against your lips. You soothed the tiny hurt with a kiss, and he gasped.

You inched the t-shirt higher until you propelled his arms up. He took over and snatched the t-shirt over his head. He dropped it beside the bed as you caressed his chest.

Only fragments of his demon-head and black-widow tattoos were visible around a darker scar. You followed the scar’s border with your fingers and pouted at the loss of the tattoos. Not because they were the most beautiful you’d ever seen, but because they’d been Eddie’s.

“You can have these redone.”

“Nah, I’d rather get a cover-up.”

You smiled before bending to pepper kisses on the scar.

“That’s going to be a big cover-up, honey.” You kissed your way from the scar to the dip of his throat. “Maybe I can hold your hand through it.”

He tilted his head back with a soft groan. You angled his chin to the side and sucked at the hot skin of his neck, giving him a faint hickey. You kissed your way up to his ear and sucked on the lobe.

With a near growl, he said, “God, I can’t—” and pulled you into a burning kiss.

You opened for him as he teased your tongue with his own. He kissed your hot cheeks and your forehead. His hands surged down your sides, then under your shirt. You straightened onto your knees and stripped off your shirt and bra. Your nipples puckered in the cooler air.

His hips jerked as his hands gripped your hips. He stared at your chest and licked his lips.

Instead of asking if he wanted to touch, because that seemed obvious, you bent and guided his hands to your breasts. You encouraged him to support them, squeeze them, while you watched his flushed face.

He circled your nipples with his thumbs, his touch graceful yet electrifying. A feeling like goosebumps trickled through your gut and had your thighs tensing. You curved into his caress in encouragement. Your underwear’s saturated cotton grazed your pussy, and you wished it was his cock.

Eddie held your ribs and rose to bury his face between your breasts. He mouthed at the valley between them and kissed the beginning swells. You held the back of his head. He sucked at one nipple, then the other. That goosebump feeling intensified until you were a quivering mess.

He undid your jeans, and your eyes popped open. He looked at you through his pretty lashes. There was a voracity in his dark gaze that said only you could slake his need — and you wanted to be the only one to do it, too.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Y-yeah.”

With no hesitation, his hand slithered between your stomach and underwear. It burned a line down the curve of your belly through your pubic hair. His middle and ring fingers glided between your wet folds. You gripped his shoulders, hard muscle moved under his skin.

The first long stroke to your clit had your nails digging into his skin and sucking air between your teeth. You couldn’t stop the tiny sound you made. He nibbled at your collarbone, teeth scraped your skin. You leaned your weight against him as your watery legs trembled. His free arm held you upright by the waist.

Rather than circle your clit, he kept stroking. The first wash of pleasure fueled you to move your hips counter to his fingers. His calluses pulled at the hood of your clit, then drove it down. He pressed harder, sparking a sensation deeper than your clit.

Your focus narrowed to your rising orgasm and the thought of his cock pumping deep inside your juicy cunt. You wanted to feel his strong hands restraining you, his sweat-slick skin on yours, and his lush mouth between your legs.

An animalistic keen left your throat at the jumble of images. Your heart hammered in your ears. You rode that knife-edge of climax. It was right there.

“C’mon, baby, fuck those fingers.”

You moaned, doing as he ordered, until ecstasy forced its way through you — so hard, so deep. The internal throb of it stole your strength as it went on and on. You crumbled, putting more of your weight on him. He held you without protest.

“Can feel it,” he said, petting your oversensitive clit.

You writhed in his arms and begged for something you couldn’t put words to. He kissed your throat as he lay still pressure on your clit. Your cunt pulsed strong enough that your hips moved of their own volition.

After a moment, he pulled his hand from your underwear and brought his fingers to his mouth. You sat on his thighs to watch him suck at his wet fingers. He hummed in satisfaction. Your cunt pulsed one last time, as though it hadn’t had enough.

Maybe it hadn’t.

He met your gaze and offered his flushed lips for a kiss. You cradled the back of his head and kissed him with unexpected fervor. You tasted the tang of your own come on his tongue. He held your face, sticky fingers on your cheek, and pushed into the kiss. You sucked your flavor off his bottom lip, pulling a moan from his chest.

“Take the rest off,” he said, falling onto his back.

“You too.”

He smirked.

“Not much more to go.”

You let your eyes track from his chest to the wrinkled lump of blanket covering his groin. Despite knowing, intimately, what was underneath, getting him naked continued to be a thrill.

“Good.”

He blushed, and his smirk softened.

You climbed off him to sit at the edge of the bed. You untied your Docs and wrenched them off. Your socks followed. Eddie kicked the blanket away. While he wiggled out of his briefs, you hooked your thumbs in your underwear and jeans, rising enough from the bed to slide them down your hips and off your legs.

You pivoted on a hip to find him reaching for a condom. His eyes went wide with a question. Or like you’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. You bent a leg on the bed and plucked a condom from the pile before he could.

“You know,” you said, holding the condom like a cigarette between your fingers. “I think I need to get on the pill.” You got on all fours. “Or get an IUD, or something.”

Sounding on tenterhooks, he asked, “Why’s that?”

You crawled between his legs. He spread his thighs to make room for you.

“So I can have you raw.”

He let out a breath, cheeks reddening further, and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. A thick bead of precome pearled at its slit.

“Would you like that, honey?”

“Shit, you know I would.”

You gave him a playful wink before hunching to lick the tip of his cock. He groaned through a smile, squeezing his cock. You savored the salty taste of him.

You tapped at the back of his hand.

“Let go.”

“I swear, I’m gonna blow in, like, ten seconds flat.”

You sat on your calves with a self-satisfied shrug. He needed to feel as good as he’d made you feel. If that happened quickly, that was fine with you because—

“We got all night,” you said, and tore open the condom packet.

He still hadn’t released his hold.

“Eddie, honey, let go.”

“Just—” He swallowed. “Get it halfway down first.”

You pulled out the lubed condom and discarded the wrapper. He bit his lip, looking as though you were about to perform surgery on him. Keeping your touch light and at the minimum, you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it over his shaft until it met his fingers.

He shuddered with eyes closed and a crease between his brows.

You said, “Let go.”

He exhaled and thumped his fists to the bed. You wasted no time in rolling the condom the rest of the way down. He panted and keened. His cock twitched in your hand, but you wiped your palms on the sheets before he could embarrass himself.

With a gentle shush, you caressed his hips and ran your thumbs in the shallow groove of muscle on either side. You kept at it until his breathing slowed and tense thighs relaxed.

You maneuvered your knees on either side of him and balanced yourself with a hand on his chest.

“Ready?”

When he nodded, you reached between your bodies to brace his erection. You were so ready, so wet, for this. Even the feeling of the condom didn’t turn you off. You found your hole and eased onto his thick cock, inch by slick inch.

Once you settled, you had to give yourself a moment. You sat with hands on your thighs while you adjusted to the fullness. He felt perfect and delicious. You looked at Eddie to see him watching you, bottom lip between his teeth and fingers digging into the mattress. Emotion filled his bright eyes.

You wanted to soothe him, but if you moved, it would set off a chain reaction he’d been trying to suppress.

“Don’t think.”

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Trying not to.”

If you didn’t take the initiative, he would torture himself for the rest of the evening. You rotated your pelvis. The simple movement made you gasp. It had been so long, and you were so eager for this with him. Under you, he choked on a desperate sound.

“I can’t wait to feel you without any barriers,” you said, rotating your pelvis again. “Feel you come deep inside me.”

He grabbed your hips to propel your movements.

“I’ll fill you up,” he said.

You planted your hands on his chest with a groan and rode him like he wanted you to. You rose only to sink down a second later, never letting him slip out. His hands glided up your sides. With a hum, you encouraged him to touch you — touch you anywhere, everywhere. You couldn’t get enough of his cock, of his nimble hands, of his body tight against yours.

Your need ramped to a boiling fever, some thrilling sickness. You bent to kiss him, sucking on his lip and tongue, as you rolled your hips in a frantic rhythm. Your skin slapped against his, but it wasn’t enough. You hid your face in his shoulder and whimpered when you found no relief.

His arms looped across your back, as if you’d try to escape. Like you could get away from this desire.

You stilled in time for him to roll to the side and on top of you. He pushed his cock deep. You mewled, your thighs stretched around his hips.

His gaze roved over your features.

“I’m gonna fill your sweet pussy.”

You nodded.

He said, “I’ll make you come.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined it. Hands all over you, gripping you, going between your legs, holding you steady as he worked your body. Your cunt clenched at the image.

“Because you’re mine, too.”

You nodded once more.

He adjusted his stance, knees dipping into the mattress. He grasped one of your shoulders as you held onto his arms with shaking hands.

“Look at me and tell me you love me.”

You stared into his eyes. It was all written out there for you to see: no denial, no hiding, and no more doubt.

“I love you.”

He caught your lips and kissed you so thoroughly you forgot anything beyond him. His hold tightened. His hips minutely rocked. His heavy cock kindled that heat hidden inside.

You moaned against his lips and pulled at him. He needed to move. You’d been wanting him for what felt like years. You’d both gone through hell, seen oblivion, and returned to each other’s side. You needed him to move — now.

He buried his face in your neck, lips against the marks he’d left. The rocking of his hips descended into grinding, then full-out thrusting. He fucked you hard. His cock dragged at the underside of your aching clit. The bed springs whined every time he bottomed out.

You couldn’t catch your breath as his thrusts became desperate. He yanked at your hair to bare your throat. His long hair — that smelled of your shampoo — veiled your humid face.

He kissed his marks and murmured something you couldn’t make out. You agreed anyway. He groaned in reply, driving you down while he thrust up. The sheets stuck to the sweat on your back. His hips snapped forward over and over, his cock ramming deep. You tried your best to move with him, but he was too fast.

Then you couldn’t move at all. Your belly quivered and your thighs tensed. His cock was too much. You strained against him, with him, until that fever broke. You shook in his arms. Your jaw clenched. Orgasm burned through you like a geyser. It sizzled up your spine. You couldn’t catch your breath. Hot tears trickled over your temples in rapturous agony.

Eddie fucked you through it, holding you tight. Your cunt throbbed and clamped around his pistoning length. He cursed in needy growls until he seized, breathless. His voice cracked. His thrusts slowed, yet remained fierce, as his cock pulsed with each thrust.

He stuttered a jumble of cut-off thoughts, all of them flattering and loving. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging his sides with your thighs. He mouthed at your neck lazily.

After a tranquil moment, he kissed you, gentle yet demanding. You felt him — every bit of him. His lips tasted of salt. His hands sheltered and cradled. His gaze warmed you. You could only respond in kind. He melted as you smoothed his hair away from his flushed, glowing face.

He kissed you one more time before steadying the condom and slipping out of you.

You relaxed, allowing your tired limbs to sink to the bed. He rolled to the side and dropped the condom on the heap of his dirty clothes. You wrinkled your nose, but didn’t comment. He flopped beside you and pillowed his head on a bent arm. The heating system kicked on. Your sweat cooled as you contemplated getting out of bed. Instead, you tucked your feet between the folds of the blanket.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said.

You hummed in acknowledgement and glanced at him.

“I was thinking, and you might not be into this, but you want to go to LA? With me?”

You stared at the ceiling.

Los Angeles: broken glass glittering in gutters, live music every night, fluttering neon, cars with their tops down, a bland apartment with a mattress on the floor, your feet warmed by sunshine as you read the newspaper’s entertainment section, Eddie writing songs at the kitchen table.

A smile spread across your face.

“Hell yeah.”

[allzelemonz]

Hate Feels Good: Javier Escuella X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Implied masculinity Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, violence Warnings: Hate sex, rough sex, anal fingering, anal sex, marking, bite marks, kissing, insults, bottom Javier and top Reader Summary: After a job gone wrong you’re stuck in a cabin with the member of the gang you happen to despise the most, Javier Escuella.

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea to listen to Uncle. The man and his terminal lumbago got a tip, slinked away to let everyone else risk their necks, and now you’re stuck hiding from the law until the heat dies down. Might not be so bad if everyone stayed together, but Charles and Arthur were on the other side of the tracks and there was no time to get the horses over. So you’re trapped with Javier and the nagging field of hatred that envelopes both of you.

You’re not entirely sure where it comes from and you don’t really have the energy to care. Javier is annoying, a bully at best. He might play the guitar with a pretty voice but that doesn’t earn him praise. Most days, you avoid him, but it’s not most days.

“Third patrol I’ve seen go by.” He says, peeking out of the window. “Might be here ‘til morning.”

You sigh, your head leaning back against the wall as you sit by the door. He looks at you, giving a dismissive expression before he walks back to the small bed and falls into it. You look up at the ceiling, mind playing through the robbery. You and Charles took the cargo cars, Javier and Arthur took the passengers. Everything was fine until…

“Who shot first back there?” You ask, looking at Javier. “Didn’t see any law until a few minutes after the first shot.”

Javier doesn’t move as he speaks. “There was a deputy, I shot him.”

“Couldn’t have used those knives you like so much, kept it quiet?”

“You trying to blame me?” He asks, sitting up.

You shrug. “Law wouldn’t have heard us if you were a little quieter.”

“You wanna start something, puto?”

“Shut up, Escuella.”

He stands. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Fuck off.” You sigh, your head falling back against the wall again.

You don’t hear his footsteps as he nears, but the knife on your throat and his fist balling into your shirt makes you more than aware that he’s kneeled down to your level. This isn’t the first time, but Dutch is usually around to break you up.

“You’re always starting something with me, cabrón.” He presses his blade into your skin enough to sting. “Maybe I will use the knife. Keep it quiet so no one knows, say you got shot by the law.”

You stare at him, halfway scared he may actually slit your throat. “Watch your temper, Escuella.”

“Watch your mouth, asshole.”

For a moment, your eyes are locked as you glare at each other and for a split second you feel a trickle go down your neck but before you can register much of it, Javier surges forward and forces his lips to yours. You still, unable to register a man you hate kissing you, and it gives him the opportunity to remove his knife and replace it with his hand. He grips your throat, squeezing as he guides you to the floor with his lips not leaving yours for more than a second. You begin to oblige him, kissing back against his soft lips and easily opening your legs for him to settle between.

“Only thing you’re gonna be saying is my name, puto.” He mutters against your lips.

You hate that you can’t hold back the gasp as his hips grind into yours, feeling his dick through his pants as it brushes yours. It makes him smile before he pushes his tongue past your teeth. For a moment you think about biting down on it, but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing for a second, instead you settle for digging your nails through his shirt as you grip hard at his waist and pull him against you more.

His hand leaves your throat and he starts at your shirt, fumbling for buttons until he can press his hands against your chest. They wander over your pecs, squeezing lightly all around until he trails down to your pants. You get a moment to focus as he moves to kiss your neck, it ends up being more biting than kissing. Your fingers fly over the buttons of his vest, eager to see his thin frame without clothes in the way. He helps you, sitting up to pull off his vest and shirt while his hips move down against you.

“You feel bigger than I thought you’d be.” He mutters as he presses down against you and grinds back and forth.

“Shit, Escuella.” You breathe, your head falling back as your dick rubs against the hard fabric of your pants.

You look up in time to see him toss his shirt away, his thin shoulders moving as he does and making you thrust up idly. He covers you again, adjusting this time so he’s sitting on your waist, his ass now grinding against you as he hunches to meet your lips again. Your teeth clash a bit before he lets you explore his mouth this time and your hands move to his hair to tug out the ponytail so you can pull at it. He groans when you do, digging himself back against your clothed dick.

It seems you have both forgotten why you started this in the first place.

Javier sits up again, fumbling with his pants as you move to do the same. He pulls his off entirely, leaving him bare above you, but he stops you from removing yours. Instead, he settles back down and presses his fingers to your mouth as he returns to biting at your neck. You take them slowly, coating them in spit and groaning around them when Javier starts to bite at your chest instead. After a particularly harsh bite to your collarbone, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you watch with great interest as he moves them behind himself.

And he whimpers when he pushes his own fingers inside of his hole.

Your mouth falls open at the sight. His back arches, his free hand resting on your stomach for support as he fucks himself open on top of you. You can’t decide where to look because everywhere is a damn sight. His face is scrunched in focus as little noises escape his lips, but his hand digs at the skin of your stomach and it looks so damn good that you want to see it around your dick, but the movements of his hips are what you settle on. He makes little ruts as his hand does most of the work to fuck himself open for you, but the little twitches are enough to keep you invested. His dick bounces slightly as he moves, slapping up against his stomach lightly with each little jut of his hips. Maybe you’d get to see the real show some other time. The thought of Javier spread out in front of you, his legs open so you can see his hole stretch as his fingers do their work, it makes your breath hitch.

“Like what you see, puto?” He breathes.

Your eyes move back up to his face and you meet his eyes. Even if you didn’t think you were about to fuck him, the fact that Javier is staring down at you while he fucks himself on his fingers is enough to make you happy with the night. But you still hate the bastard, even if he looks pretty in the low light as he bounces.

“I’ve seen better.” You mutter the lie, making sure your voice doesn’t betray you.

Javier leans down, draping himself over you and connecting your lips in a harsh kiss again. He doesn’t stop fucking himself, his hips still moving with his hand and making his dick drag along your stomach. You press your hands harshly onto his ass and pull enough to spread his cheeks apart, making him whine. His arm brushes against yours as he picks up his pace and his lips move to your ear.

“Come on, puto, fuck me.” He whispers, his voice too high a pitch to resist.

You bend your leg, pushing to give yourself the momentum to roughly flip Javier onto the floor. His hand leaves his hole as he catches himself and he rolls onto his stomach, not resisting as you climb behind him. Your hands grip his hips and he arches his back automatically like some whore. For a moment you just look down at his fucked open hole, his cheeks hiding most of it. You move your hands to spread them again so you can look properly. And damn, Javier looks so open and fucked with a bit of wet spit around his rim that you can’t help it when your hand fumbles for your pants.

You’re lined up in a matter of seconds and pushing inside. You watch every inch disappear inside of the man beneath you, slowly pulling his hips back into you and making him do the work. Javier moans shamelessly, not hiding a hint of the whorish sound. He props himself up on his elbows and presses back until you’re fully settled inside of him. If it was anyone else, you’d let them adjust, but after all the teasing and your underlying sick desire to hurt him a little, you start fucking him right away.

Javier has to dig his arms and level his shoulders to keep himself up. You snap your hips into him, your balls slapping against him and jostling in a way that feels so damn good when paired with Javier’s tight heat. Your nails dig into his hips more with every thrust and you speed up with every whimper and moan Javier lets out. His arms give out after a while and he slumps onto the hard floor, his hips only held up by you as you continue to drive into him. You don’t stop him when he reaches under himself and starts pumping, you just watch the obscene motion of his arm in tandem with your dick disappearing into him.

He releases first, his voice high as he whines something out in Spanish. His arm slows gradually and he focuses on rocking back into you, seemingly unbothered by any kind of overstimulation. You lean into him a bit for your last few thrusts, pushing him down against the floor so you can bury yourself in deep as you cum. You give idle, tiny thrusts as you’ve both settled flat and you kiss his shoulder mindlessly.

Javier’s breathing is heavy as he groans. “Fuck you, puto.”

It sounds half hearted and you only suck on his neck in response. He doesn’t do anything to stop it, letting his body stay limp underneath you. You hum against his skin and nuzzle your nose slightly into his back, not fully wanting to leave his warmth no matter how much you despise the bastard.

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me || Story 1: The (Wo)Man Without Fear

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: After all these years away, you’re finally relocated back to Hell’s Kitchen, the place where you were born, a place filled with happy memories. However, the city is not what you remembered, and when your job as a detective is not enough to save it, you might have to become something more.

🖤 Date: 8/8/23

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 5,162 (Consider this an introduction)

🖤 Warning: Blood; Alcohol Consumption; Small Reference to Past Abuse; Small Reference to PTSD; Domestic Abuse (not towards Reader!); Heavy Language; Mental Breaking Point; Brief Talk of Death/Dying. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

🖤 A/N: Matt's unfortunately not in this first story, but he is mentioned repeatedly! This first story's kind of introduction to what the reader is and how HK brings the darkness out in everyone. I will say this though, pay attention to some detail because I will be doing some call backs to them throughout the series 'cause they'll be handy. I promise! Also, the reader in this story does have special abilities that you'll have to try to piece together (because I'm evil like that. Lol). Other than that, Enjoy! And let me know if I miss any kind of warnings :)

You had down your third beer in one sitting before slamming it on the counter and heavily sighing. Your coworker, or should you say ex-coworker, watched you bittersweetly for the stool next to you.

“Take it easy, L/N. I don’t want to have to drag you back home.” Max, who was also your partner in the force, said in his usual kind voice.

“What home?” You reply, waving to the bartender for another beer. “I don’t have a home anymore here, remember?”

“It’s just a figure of speech.” He frowns, worriedly. “You really that upset about moving?”

“Well, fuck yes!” You pound your fist into the counter. “I screwed up on the tiniest thing ever and I’m relocated!” You grabbed the beer that was placed in front of you. “Relocated on the other side of the country.”

This unfortunately was true; You had accidently messed something up during an important case, something that was deemed extremely small compared to everything else and your police chief still punished you. You sigh again, taking a long swig.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t like you were demoted.” Max pointed out on the bright side. “Maybe this is a good thing. Didn’t you tell me once you used to live in New York?”

You nod, slowly, painfully. “Born and pretty much raised there until eight because of my parents passing.” You’re frowned with a hint of bitterness. “Then I moved out here with my good for nothing Aunt.”

Such a pain in the ass. You cursed and took another swig.

His concern deepens. “Okay, maybe stop with the beer.”

You roll your (Y/E/C) eyes. “Ah, I’ll burn it off. Alcohol doesn’t work on me.”

“Alcohol works on everyone.”

“Yeah, but not me.” Your metabolism was too fast to get a buzz. You sigh one last time, before putting a smile on your face. “Alright. Come on, partner–” You pat him on the back. “Let’s have a little fun. It’s my last night here.”

Max seemed hesitant at first before coping your expression. He chuckles and raises his glass. “Alrighty, then. To partners in crime.”

“To partners in crime.” You repeat and clink your beverages together. And before you know it…

You’re dragging him back to his house, apologizing to his wife for his drunkenness.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sound of the key unlocking the front door was all you were focused on until it swooped open. You stare inside as your new landlord sidesteps to give you a better view.

“Here she is.” He said as you walked in, looking around. The place was small, you expected nothing less than a New York apartment; It consisted with a decent size kitchen, living/dining area, and a bedroom with a full size bathroom. There were a few cosmetic things that could be fixed down the road but it didn’t look too bad.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss?” He asked, with a nervous tone as you nodded.

“Yeah, everything looks fine.” You reply with a small smile. You were glad that you didn’t pack too much. “Uh, Mr. Gale–” You look at him. “The moving truck should be here tomorrow. Do I… need to do anything special? Like letting you know, or…”

He shook his head. “No. As long as you know them, I don’t really care who comes in and out of here. I just need you to pay your rent on time.”

You chuckle lightly. “Will do.”

He hums and starts to leave; but not before handing over the key. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” 

“Thank you.” 

Once he leaves you set your purse down on the kitchen counter, and roll your suitcase into the bedroom before taking a deeper look around. Everything seemed to be clean and intact. 

Good. The last thing I need is my new home to be falling apart. You stopped to gaze out your living area window, one that gazes upon the main road and other apartments nearby. 

This kind of reminds me of my old apartment. The only place you and your parents lived in before they passed. Not in the safest of areas (not like Hell’s Kitchen had many places like that), but you still called it home. But you’ll admit that the level above yours was much nicer that made you a bit green. But that color would fade every time you met up with him. The boy just a year older (and a bit taller) than you. 

Your friend. 

Your best friend you considered once. 

Your eyes fell to the sidewalk below, nostalgia running deep.

.

.

“Come On, Y/N! I’ll race you to the bodega.” He would tease and break off into a run, laughing like the child he was.

You would always puff out your chest in annoyance, but ended up always flustered by him. “Murdock, you dummy! I’ll get you for that!!”

And sometimes you would. Sometimes you wouldn’t. Sometimes you let him win because it made your heart flutter with joy.

.

.

You smiled bittersweetly at the memory, before feeling your soul completely ache. Your friend, he never… he never…

He never wrote me back. And that was the depressing truth. 

When you had to up and leave to live with your aunt, you and him would stay in touch by being each others’ pen pals. You guys would write pretty much every week, and if your aunt allowed it, you would give each other a call. But then one day… it all stopped. No more letters or phone calls. Just complete silence. It was like he just suddenly disappeared without a trace. It was…

Bizarre.

I wonder what ever happen to him? A part of you wants to know but then another part of you wonders…

.

.

.

Is it worth opening Pandora’s box?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The following day you find yourself catching your new badge as  it was flung in your direction, as the officer who’s being your “tour guide” walks sluggishly in front of you.

He waves his hand nonchalantly at you as he starts to speak. “We’ll get you fitted with a new gun later on, Miss…?” 

You tried not to eye roll as you repeated your name once again. “L/N.”

“L/N. Right.” He claps his hands together. “Okay. Uh, well… I don’t know what it was like in San Francisco for you, but I doubt it’s like anything you’re ever going to deal with here.”

You tilt your head, confused. “What do you mean?” You asked, and you followed him through a crowd of busy people in blue and business suits (who gave zero shits about trying to move out of the way as you passed). 

Seriously, we can’t just sit down and talk for a min–

He sighs loudly. “Listen, kid–”

“Kid? Where about the same–”

“New York, especially Hell’s Kitchen, is a whole other ballgame. There’s even a rumor that crime was born here, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true.”

You found yourself frowning, putting your annoyance on pause (or at least pausing to feel him/the place out). “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “So whatever you do, watch your back, because even with a partner, you’re on your own.” He explained, as he entered the office area. “Speaking of which… Hey, Grimm!” 

A young looking lad looks up from his paperwork. “Yeah?”

“The new detective’s here.” He jerks his thumb in your direction. “Is Castle in at all?” 

Grimm scoffs. “When is Castle ever in?” He looks away. “Haven’t seen him since Tuesday.”

And… it’s Thursday. You thought, already getting a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let me guess–” You cross your arms and speak the truth you see in front of you. “He’s my new partner?”

“Captain Frank Castle. Ex-Marine turned Cop. He’s–”

“He’s a loose cannon.” Grimm shouts back, getting a dirty look.

“Officer Grimm!”

“What?” The young lad shrugs. “It’s true.”

Your frown deepens, the irritation you’ve been showing on and off your face all morning is starting to give you wrinkles. “So… a loose cannon?” You said, truly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

He sighs. “He is, but he knows his shit. You’ll learn a lot from him… when he actually shows up.” He mumbled the last part as he started walking again. He soon starts pointing around as he speaks. “You’re desk’s over here, use it as you please. Castle’s is across from you. Our murder board is over there for all our ‘bigger’ crimes, and next to it is our most wanted.”

You stopped in front of the board, curiosity peaked. Your eyes scanned to the first one. “Who’s Quentin Beck?” You asked, never hearing that name before.

“Quentin Beck, used to be a normal guy who owned a carnival in the park. Everything seemed fine until we got reports of people complaining about some… strange things happening. Turns out, on his main attraction, he was using drugs that induce peoples’ fears for them to stay longer. Or… forcibly making them stay longer.”

You nearly got a chill from listening to that. “Freaky. What happened to him? You obviously didn’t catch him.”

“Disappeared when we went in for an arrest. But we didn’t get any reports that he’s left the city or this country. So, who knows if he’s even still here.” A sarcastic smug tugged on his lips. “But hey, you’re a detective, maybe you’ll bring him in.”

You tried to hold your tongue, as you narrowed your eyes. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we, Officer?”

He seemed to not like your tone as you could see his jaw clenches. “Armory’s towards the back. Help yourself.” He said with a bit of a bite, and then left.

Asshole. You wiped your expression clean as you looked back at the board. So many names and so many faces to memorize. Yet, There were some… questionable people the police were supposed to take down. 

Sure there were some scary looking ones like Sergi Kravinoff, or Adrian Toomes. Then there were others that didn’t quite look menacing, like Jefferson Davis, or someone they just dubbed “Black Cat”.

Black cat? You must have had a puzzled look on your face because Officer Grimm suddenly appeared next to you to answer all your questions.

“She may not look like much, but she’s a master thief. She’s stolen a lot of goods around the whole city.” He explains, holding out an extra cup of coffee. “Goods that are damn near irreplaceable.”

“Thanks.” You said, taking a sip of the lukewarm beverage. “So she’s hard to catch?”

“Extremely. She always slips through our fingers somehow.”

“Well that sucks.” Your eyes studied the bored again, thinking. “This city has a lot more crime than I remember.” Or maybe you just didn’t see it because you were so young, which was a strong possibility. I mean you were only eight when you were forced to live somewhere else.

The next thing you said you only could wish it fell on death’s ears as you chuckle, jokingly. “There’s so much crime here, I’m starting to think there’s a kingpin running the show–”

Grimm’s hand suddenly latched onto your wrist, pulling you to his level. “Do not say his name.” He hissed, scared as his eyes were blown wide.

Out of surprise, yours did too. “W-What?”

“Do not say his name. Do not question him.”

“Q-Question who? I was just joking.” 

It was just a joke. Why does he look so terrified? You wondered as he seems to be recollecting himself, but he shows no signs of letting you go just yet.

You look between your wrist and his eyes, trying to keep the shakiness out of your voice. “Officer Grimm, do you think you could–”

“Listen, Detective.” He whispers, harshly. “In this city, we do things differently. And if you want any fucking chance at surviving, I suggest you follow the program. Do as you’re told, and don’t ever speak his name again. You hear me?”

You find yourself nodding out of fear, which seemed good enough for him as he finally lets go of you and walks away. You hold your bruised wrist close to you as you look away from his direction.

What in the hell– You look at the board again, looking at it in a new light.

.

.

.

What in the hell was that all about?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rest of the work day you felt like if you didn’t tread water, you were going to drown. You had to watch what you say, what you did. You felt like if you did something wrong you’d get a dagger in your back or a bag over your head. You felt like you were a step away from the guillotine. 

It made you nauseous to think about it, just enough to chew on your fingernails the whole cab ride home.

This is a fucking police department. I shouldn’t feel unsafe. 

Never in your almost nine year career had you felt unsafe in your own job (and you worked in one of the most crime ridden cities out there). Now it was almost scary to even breathe without the thought of getting another scare from Officer Grimm. 

Jesus. How the fuck am I going to even do this? You let out a sigh as you fiddled with your keys. 

And what was he so afraid of? Who was he afraid of? Or was he just… overreacting? You can only hope he was as you finally reached the top of the stairs and started heading down the hallway towards your apartment; But that’s when you heard it (or really anyone should have heard it).

A harsh slap to the face and someone yelping in surprise. 

You faltered your movements almost straight away to listen, and you noticed someone’s cries -a woman’s- and a man speaking in harsh whispers in the apartment you stopped next to. You heard some… interesting threats that set off your “detective senses”. Putting on an emotionless mask and tucking away your keys, you marched to the door and knocked loudly like you were on a house call. You immediately heard everything grow quiet inside before someone was stomping towards the door, throwing it open like they were being bothered. 

“What the fuck do you want?” The man, you say mid-30s, snapped at you with cold eyes.

Really cold eyes. They kind of remind you of…

“Thought I’d stop by and say ‘Hi’. I’m your new neighbour down the hall.” You reply, staring him dead in the face (and tucked away the creeping memory that was starting to flash before you).

He scoffs. “And?”

Without even blinking you flash your badge towards him, watching the color drain from his face. “I work with one of the HK police departments. I was coming back home when I heard something alarming. Thought I’d make sure everything was okay.” You explain, as he swallows and your eyes trail past his shoulders to a woman whose face was lingering with bruises of every color in the rainbow. “Is she okay?”

“Her?” He laughs nervously. “She’s fine. My wife’s a klutz. She was cleaning out our closet when a couple things came flying off the shelf. You know how that is. Right?”

His lie made you mentally raise an eyebrow.

Seriously, that’s the best you could come up with? You almost laughed in his face, but you had to stay professional (bit seriously, he couldn’t give you the overused excuse that she was hit by a door?).

You looked back at the wife, replying, “Is that all true, Ma’am?” You hoped that she could see that you wanted to help, that you could help. You hoped she could see the worriedness and empathy you had in your orbs. The tiny shine that gave off the word ‘beg’. 

Just say yes. Just say yes I can arrest his fucking–

She shook her head too quickly. “Y-yes. I-It’s all true. I need to be more careful.” She said, and tried to smile reassuringly (it looked so painful to even do so).

“See? She’s fine.” The husband said, all smug once more. “Thank you for your concern, but everything seems good here.”

He slams the door in your face, and he acts like you weren’t even there because he started the same shenanigans again. You find yourself clenching your fists in a way your fingernails dug into your skin (Those familiar crescent moons will surely appear tomorrow).

You clenched your own jaw, gritting your teeth and your veins grew hot. 

I can do it. You felt your blood boil/bubble, and your fingertips getting coated in a red dust; Your eyes starting to turn the same shade of cherry.

I’ve got the abilities. I’ve got the strength to break down this door. I can just… But you let yourself trail off as realization sets in.

You can’t. 

You can’t be the hero in this.

You can’t risk exposing yourself again.

You can’t be the thing that you were born as.

And you fucking hated that. 

You take a deep breath, the ones that are long and you feel the chill in your lungs. Your blood settled, the haze disappearing, the light disappearing from your pupils. When you felt and looked normal, you fished out your keys again as you forced yourself to turn a blind eye on that monster’s home.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After checking out a café near your place, you immediately dove into your work. Since your partner seemed absent again, and nobody else seemed to want to give you any pointers, you were forced to do things on your own, to find things to keep you preoccupied for your shift. Deciding it would be the best to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings (Since you’ve been gone for… what? Twenty years now?). You start flipping through some folders that were “hot spots” for crime. After a couple, one of them caught your eye.

An old abandoned carnival called: The Cursed Carnival of Mysterio. And who was the owner? Well that was–

Quinten Beck? You pinch your brows together in confusion. This was… interesting. 

Quinten Beck, age unknown, is still residing on the property but hasn’t been seen since– What? Now you’re even more confused. Didn’t the officer yesterday tell you something completely different? Didn’t he say that Beck hasn’t been seen in years?

You shake your head and keep reading.

Hasn’t been seen since last month with his usual meeting with Dr. Curt Connors, talking over their deal with hallucination drugs– What the fuck? Now this really wasn’t making any sense. Why would someone write this down about a criminal and not do anything? 

Shouldn’t someone have stopped this guy already if they know he’s still here? And who is Dr. Connors? You bite your thumb as you thought all of this over, trying to see if you could make any sense over this. But everything you came up with fell short. It just didn’t make any fucking sense.

Maybe… Dr. Connors is like an undercover agent? Maybe they’re waiting on getting some intel before going after Beck? That seemed like a possibility (And one you were secretly wishing was true).

I’ve got to see who this guy is. You swerve your chair to the right to get closer to your monitor, quickly loading the database. However, just as you type in his name and click enter, your screen went completely black; and you could see why. In the corner of your eye, you saw one of your coworkers had unplugged the computer like it was nothing.

You cocked your head in their direction, disbelief resting on your features.

What in the actual fu–

“It’s probably for the best if you don’t look him up.” Grimm’s voice broke through as he was suddenly standing beside you. He had the most innocent look on his face, almost like he didn’t realize what just occurred. He gives you a reassuring gaze and replies, “Dr. Connors is… nobody to worry about.”

The façade you so desperately always keep on while on the job suddenly chipped away, your anger (and a sense of betrayal) started to seep in very clearly. 

That was your cross to bear. Your hotheadedness was something you always had to keep in check, which you always managed to do. But on some occasions it would slip out without even noticing.

Kind of like right now.

You were a snake that had set its eyes on its prey.

You stand up slowly, menacingly, as you lock eyes with him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, low and cold that made his face twitch as soon as you spoke.

“W-Wh-What?” Grimm slurred, thrown off by your sudden mood change.

“I said, what’s that supposed to mean? Why shouldn’t I worry about Dr. Connors? If there really isn’t nothing, then why the fuck did my colleague over here just unplug my computer? Couldn’t you have come up to me and said something instead?” You seemed to have backed him in a corner as he paled under your intense gaze.

“W-Well… y-you seem pretty headstrong with your job, I’m sure you would have kept looking despite what we say.” He replies which was the dumbest fucking excuse you’ve ever heard (Seriously, what’s with these damn excuse all of a sudden?). 

You felt your blood starting to spike like yesterday, but you had enough control to keep your energy in check, but you couldn’t say the same thing for the venom that was trickling off your tongue into your words.

“And so what if I kept looking? Huh?” You jerk your thumb towards yourself. “I’m a detective. Even if they seem innocent it’s my job to look at even the tiniest of details until I rule them out as innocent.” Your voice starts to grow louder, turning a few heads but you didn’t care. “So what’s so wrong about me looking into this guy?”

It took his silence and a look of fear on his face to finally put the pieces together. Your state of incertitude last night had suddenly cleared like a crystal.

“Oh… I see now.” You said, a laugh was on the end of your tongue as you looked at him in bewilderment/surprise. “Let me make a guess–” You raised an eyebrow. “Am I not following ‘the program’ you spoke of?”

The whole room immediately froze and stared at you like a circus freak. Grimm paled some more as you scoffed at their reaction.

“Really?” You said, in disbelief. “You’re all taking orders from an outside source? Someone who isn’t our Commander?” Another scoff. “Oh, and let me fucking guess who that could be! Is it that Kingpin guy I was joking about yesterday?”

“Lieutenant, don’t say his name.” Grimm said, worriedly shaking his head.

“Or what? If I say it three times does he just fucking appear out of thin air? Why the fuck do we have someone using us and criminals as fucking puppets? Explain how that happened?!”

He waves his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! We will! But–” He swallows. “You’ve got to calm down first. Then once you accept the rules to the program, you can–”

“I’m not accepting whatever rules there are.” You snapped, shaking your own hand. “I’m not going to have someone other than my superior tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“Lieutenant, if you don’t follow the rules there will be consequences. You could lose your own life, you could–”

“I’m a cop. The possibility of losing my life comes with it.”

“B-But this is different! This guy’s not someone you should mess with!”

“Then, you–” You jab your finger into his chest before waving it around. “Or anyone in this fucking room can tell this ‘Kingpin’ that if he wants me to join his little program, he’ll have to tell me himself. Face-to-fucking-face.” 

You snagged your belongings off your desk and stormed out of the office, never looking back.

Never looked back to them shaking to their core.

Never looked back as they mumbled with terror.

Never looked back as they crawled under their desk to hide.

Never looked back…

At the fucking mess you had been placed in.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You wanted to scream. 

Or maybe you did when you decided to walk home instead of a taxi to… ‘cool your head’. In fact, all that thinking might have made your mood worse. The fact that everyone in that precinct was under some guy’s thumb said it all. How were you supposed to do your job if you couldn’t do it? Who was this guy that wasn’t even allowing anybody to catch extremely dangerous criminals?

Kingpin or not, I’m not falling under your thumb. 

You enter your apartment building, walking up the stairs to the next floor when you spot your ‘lovely’ neighbour coming down with a new pep in his step, phone up by his ear.

“-on my way – Yeah – Oh, yeah. It’ll be great.” He talks loudly, nearly plowing you over as you pass.

And when he did something…

Clicked inside you.

You pause on the steps, glancing back as your neighbour starts leaving. You frown and find yourself coming up with an idea that was either the best idea ever…

Or the most treacherous one yet.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Your neighbour and his friends laughed as they flickered their cigarettes off the rooftop, landing somewhere unknown below. It was like three men reliving their teenage years. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing if your neighbour wasn’t such a shitty husband.

“Hey, man, we’re going to get more beers.” One of his friends said as they started backtracking to the door to the bar below.

“Sounds good.” Your neighbour said, lighting another bud.

The door closes, leaving him utterly alone in the dark of the night, basking in the full moon’s light. He takes a long puff from his cigarette, blowing it into the warm air, completely oblivious that you were suddenly behind him like the grim reaper.

“So this is what you do in your free time.” You said, making your voice sound deeper and lower.

He turned around quickly, finding you in head to toe black, only your eyes were exposed. He cocked his head to the side, not even showing any kind of surprise or shock. “Who the hell are you? And how’d you get up here without me hearing?”

“I’ll give you a choice. Turn yourself in or I’ll use force.” 

He scoffs. “For what?”

“For assaulting your wife.”

His face falls before swiftly turning into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about? With what proof?” You stayed silent which got him even more riled up. “Listen, whoever the fuck you are, you need to be on your merry way.”

And as soon as his hand clasped your shoulder you took a swing, which you’ll admit… you’re out of practice; Because before you know it, he’s elbowed you in the stomach before grabbing onto the back of your hoodie, and–

Pushes you off the roof.

His eyes suddenly widened at what he just did, and took a step back from the ‘crime scene’. “Oh, my god…” He covers his mouth. “Oh, my god… I just…” He shakes his head. “No. He attacked me first. This was self defense. They’ll have to believe me, they’ll–”

And then all the color seemed to drain from his body.

You were suddenly in front of him, feet nowhere near the ledge/floor of the roof.

You stare down at him, eyes starting to glow a reddish hue.

He stumbles back on the balls of his feet, trembling under your gaze. “W-W-What a-are you?” He cried, lip quivering. “H-How are you flo–”

You leaped at him before he could finish, tackling him to the ground, straddling his waist before you let loose. The anger you kept in check came undone as you struck him with your fists over, and over, and over, and over again. You struck him until his face was covered in bruises and painted in red; And you didn’t stop until you heard the satisfying crack in his nose. 

You grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “If you ever hurt your wife again… I will fucking know.” You hissed through your teeth before knocking him out cold.

And then it was quiet.

Besides your heart was in your ears it was still quiet.

You were panting almost silent as your adrenaline started to cease.

You could feel his blood on your face through your makeshift mask.

You could feel your fingers almost aching for more.

It felt…

Strangely satisfying. 

Oddly.

Greatly.

Satisfying.

And when his friends finally arrived, you were already on the other side of the street, watching in the shadows as they frantically started calling for an ambulance. 

It shouldn’t feel good, but you did. Even as his blood coated your hands like an ointment, it didn’t feel as bad as it should. But you were a detective, a cop, you were supposed to stop the bad guys. Did it matter that you weren’t in uniform this time? Should it matter?

.

.

.

…And should you feel bad?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sound of someone knocking on your door woke you up early the next morning. You grumbled in your state of exhaustion, wondering if someone from your job was coming to get you. 

Fuckers. Just go away. You tried turning to a new position, shutting your eyes tighter as they knocked again.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

And–

You groaned as you sat up, grabbing your bathrobe off your chair to cover your nude form. “I’m coming!” You announced, before yawning. “This better be good…” You walked up to the peephole, taken back by the fact that no one was actually there. “What?”

You take off the deadbolt and unlock the door, poking your head out into your hallway. 

Nothing. Nobody in sight.

When you were about to call yourself crazy you spotted something on your fuzzy doormat. In surprise, you found yourself staring at a beautifully decorated vase filled with brightly colored, freshly cut red roses.

“Flowers?” You said, bending down to carefully pick it up, examining it. You just wanted to make sure there wasn’t some sort of trap (you had plenty of those in your career).

They seemed normal but the number of them was odd.

Nine.

Nine means that the person who gifted them to you wants to signify eternal love and show that you want to spend the rest of your life with you.

Now that was really stumping you, especially when you spotted a card that was no help at all. On the simple, white, rectangular card was neat cursive handwriting that said:

‘Welcome Back.’

Welcome back? You look around again making absolutely sure that you didn’t miss anything or anyone. You continued to see nothing again.

You found yourself staring at the card again, wondering:

.

.

.

What the hell is going on?

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago

[bluenotemagpie]

a jake simmonds/mickey smith fic recommendations post

hello, it's me, who for some reason set up camp in this particular corner of rarepair hell back in, like, 2012 and has not left. i've tried, but i live here now. all because i watched age of steel and thought:

there are 80 fics in the jake/mickey tag on ao3, and a handful scattered on ff.net. here are the ones i've returned to over the years. <3

The Spiral by LetThemRot

excerpt:

Harriet Jones is on the tele, like she's been for the last ten nights, saying that yes, the Cybermen are gone (it's taken three years for the information to get out - the factories have been sealed off and uninvestigated for so long that none of the public noticed), and no, it's not information that the public has access to. Everyone should understand this and get on with their lives. The Cybermen have been separate for a long time - now they're just gone for good. Let the authorities handle this.

But she is Jackie Tyler, and she knows the authorities. She's living with three of them.

summary: The Doctor is in one world, Rose Tyler in another, and the Void stretches between them. Life in the days following the Battle of Canary Wharf, told by those stranded in Pete's World.

thoughts: on any given day there is a 50% chance that i am thinking about this fic and chewing on the walls. this was the first jake/mickey fic i ever read and i might have to credit it with how unhinged i am about this ship. it follows rose, mickey, jake, pete, and jackie after the events of doomsday, and it is so canon in my brain that getting through the immediately post-doomsday parts of my own fic was a real challenge because i wanted to just go "look, go read The Spiral and come back, that's what happens." it is in my writer DNA. i could not choose one of the actual jake/mickey parts of the story for the excerpt because i just want you to go read it and experience it. i love it so much.

--

These Conversations We Have by LetThemRot

excerpt:

Rose turns away once Jake presses his lips to Mickey's. It's not the jealousy of what they have, or the daydreaming - so she tells herself - it's the roommate-kissing-your-ex-boyfriend factor. It's not the unfair way that they can be happy and know (roughly) where the other is at all times and whether they're safe. It's just the roommate-and-ex-boyfriend factor - that's all. She plants her chin on a jumper-covered fist and stares resolutely at the screen, not seeing a single atom of it.

summary: Things said and heard in Pete's World. Life is hard when everyone has a different idea of what's right. Post-Doomsday, pre-Journey's End.

thoughts: like the above, this fic is in my writer DNA. rose, queen of burnout, is determined to get the dimension cannon working even if it kills her. rose & jake are besties and flatmates, which is truly a delight because they're both goddamn disasters. this is also a fic which doesn't shy away from how - even if jake & mickey get their shit together and decide to date - the ghost of ricky smith will never be easily disregarded.

--

Not Made of Tin by Nope

excerpt:

Three years before this, he comes awake, startled into the sudden chill of the back of the van. He can't hear, can't remember the noise that brought him out of the dark into this bleary half-light, tinted, smeared windows and Jake snuffle-snoring in the front seat, but there are seabird screeches and the faint rough hum of traffic and he has the strangest craving for ice-cream, proper fake soft Mister Whippy style ice-cream, all chemicals and sugar buzz cold. They should sell that on the sea-front, he reckons. That's what people do, even in foreign parts. Assuming they even have ice-cream in this damn dimension and, if they don't, he's going to invent it and make a fucking fortune. How hard can it be?

thoughts: this is a dark fic - I'd add a warning about non-con & rate this E - but it also has some really excellent, prickly characterization & an intriguing narrative structure. ymmv depending on your tolerance for the aforementioned warnings. but i love fics that put the characters' flaws front & centre, so on the list it goes! (this was also written in 2009, so there's some ableist language that wouldn't fly today, fwiw.)

--

Guy Fawkes Has Nothing on Us by misspamela ( @miss-pamela on tumblr)

excerpt:

It was three days before Mickey got himself together enough to freak out.

He woke up an hour after he'd gone to sleep, with Jake sitting first watch up front and the communications equipment turned down to a dull hum. The van was dark, not the dark of his room at home, ringed with fluorescent lighting, and not the whirring, yellowish dark of the TARDIS. Cold dark. Alien dark.

Next thing, he's thrashing about and yelling, knocking wires and ammunition to the floor.

"You're not losing it, mate?" Jake scrambled into the back of the van.

All Mickey can think of to say is, "I've never even been to Greece."

thoughts: this hits my favourite tone of "lighthearted banter with some emotions & growing fondness" <3 i'm very fond of fics where there's clearly an action movie plot happening in the background, but that's not the focus dammit the feelings are the focus

--

Rain Like Ghosts by carolinecrane

excerpt:

Jake shifted against him, somehow moving closer without touching any more than he had to. Like he was afraid what Mickey would say if he noticed how close they were. Like it would be possible for Mickey to miss it. And it was probably just as well the French blokes had given them a room of their own, because Jake's arm had landed on top of him somehow and his hand was pressed against Mickey's chest, heat radiating from his fingers and making Mickey feel in a way he hadn't for a long time.

thoughts: god bless carolinecrane for writing many of the fics in the jake/mickey tag. idk where you are now but i salute you 🫡 in any case, who can resist a "there was only one bed" fic

--

Birds by carolinecrane

excerpt:

He liked the way Mickey kissed him -- different from Ricky, less intense but sweeter somehow -- and he liked that Mickey needed him more than Ricky ever had.

He didn't think much about what that said about him until Rose crashed back into Mickey's life, dragging her mum with her and suddenly Mickey didn't need Jake so much anymore. And he'd never really thought of himself as selfish until Jackie and Rose turned up, but as it turned out, he didn't like having to share.

thought: you might be noticing a recurring theme, which is that i really enjoy fics where jake is a bit of a bastard. this one is set around the trip to bad wolf bay & is very cute

--

sorry for the runner-up by carolinecrane

excerpt:

"Look, mate, I know it's different for you and me. You and Ricky…well, it was different, anyway."

"We got shot at a lot less," Jake says, and Mickey knows he's trying to be funny, but he doesn't feel much like laughing.

"Maybe that's your problem."

"You think I should get shot at more?"

thoughts: jake's "you think I should get shot at more?" joke to avoid discussing his own feelings is so canon to me that i did end up putting a reference to it into my own fic while editing a chapter recently. mickey's down bad in this fic, which is sometimes a challenge when you're stuck together in the back of a zeppelin. 10/10 very fun times

(carolinecrane has other v good jake/mickey oneshots, but these three are my favourites!)

--

Possibilities, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bananas by rosa_acicularis

excerpt:

“Suppose I don’t have to ask how it went last night, do I?” Pete Tyler said from the doorway. Unconsciously, both Mickey and Jake straightened in their chairs.

Rose gave him a wan smile. “He was an idiot.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Pete replied evenly as he walked to the coffeemaker, ceramic ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug in hand. Rose and Mickey exchanged an amused look; a man as powerful as Pete Tyler hardly needed to fetch his own coffee, much less travel the three floors down to Recovery and First Contact to get it. Yet two or three days a week he spent his five minutes of precious free time with a woman who was not his daughter, a man who was not her boyfriend, and a man who may (or may not) have been his boyfriend. Pete poured his coffee and sipped at it gingerly. “So,” he said, leaning back and resting his elbows on the counter just as Rose had done moments ago. “Should I be forming a taskforce to deal with an imminent invasion of alien fruit and veg?”

“No,” Mickey said.

“Maybe,” Rose said.

Pete looked to Jake, who shook his head. “I’m just sitting here, reading my paper. I am opinionless.”

“Spineless,” Mickey muttered, and Jake arched an eyebrow in his direction. Rose watched them and sighed inwardly; their epic saga of will-they-won’t-they had recently resolved itself (to neither man’s satisfaction) as they-will-but-just-the-once-because-apparently-they-are-both-idiots. They rarely let the tension interfere with their working camaraderie, but it was beginning to get under her skin nevertheless.

thoughts: genuinely one of my fave fics. rose-centric, takes a different path from journey's end. all the character relationships are spot-on and crack me up, including rose's little brother - HOLD ON I JUST FOUND OUT THAT THE AUTHOR HAS A BUNCH MORE DOCTOR WHO FICS, BRB I GOTTA GO READ THEM ALL RIGHT NOW

--

Interlude (The Space Between Breaths) by freefall

excerpt:

Later, when the fight is over and the wounds are bandaged, and it’s just you and Mickey again in the hull of an abandoned warehouse, the only light coming from some flickering candles and the only warmth from the slow heat of cheap gin in your stomach, is when he asks. ‘Course he asks, and you realize that somewhere along the way he had learned you just as well as you learned him (and how is that even fair when he didn’t have the advantage of knowing his parallel universe self, but he did it anyway. Bloody Mickey.)

thoughts: this fic fucking slaps. i don't read a lot of second-person stuff, but the second-person here has such a strong voice to it. short but sweet with a lot of that good good subtext.

--

a parisian sunset by @lesbiandonnanoble

excerpt:

Jake pulled his thermos out of his bag. In the middle of winter, with just a van and just the two of them, it really was the only source of warmth. It usually held some kind of tea - spiked, more often than not - or cider. He unscrewed the cap, which also functioned as the mug, and filled it up. He looked down at it, swirled the liquid around in the cup, and passed it to Mickey. “Cheers.”  Mickey didn’t know what Jake wanted him to do. Logically, it was a drink for him. He should drink it. But there was only one cup, and Jake had been very hesitant to share anything with him insofar. Did Jake want to share it? “For me?” he asked.  Jake laughed. “Yes, man. You look cold.”

thoughts: CUTE SHIT. i love a good jake-and-mickey-have-emotions-in-paris fic. and as someone who gets cold very easily, i'm obsessed with helping people get warm as an act of love.

--

so there we have it! the jake/mickey fics that have haunted my brain like my mind is a cursed cathedral!! my own fic is still a WIP - it's a long one, currently going through edits - but you can check out the beginnings of the first draft here if you want more. or i post about it with the my dw magnum opus tag, because i have had this fic rattling around in my brain for over a decade and was finally compelled to put it to paper.

happy reading! <3

[aparticularbandit]

Sandcastles in the Sand

Summary: Junko takees Mikan to the beach!

For DR WLWeek 2024: Prompt One: Your OTP.

Rating: T.

AO3

“What are you doing?”

“Um!”  Mikan looks up to see her girlfriend the Ultimate Fashionista standing over her, one hand shielding her stormy blue eyes from the glare of the sun.  “I….”  She glances down to her hands and the molded mismatch of sandy shapes between them.  Sand coats her fingers, stuck beneath her shorn nails, but she doesn’t mind.  She’d needed those bits of nail to dig grooves along her creation.  “Making a sandcastle.”

“Don’t you want to swim?  The ocean’s right there.”  Junko thrusts a hand out and gestures wildly towards it.

Mikan can’t see the motion, can only see the shadows Junko’s movements cast against the sand, since she’s avoiding looking at her, knowing that she’ll only see disappointment or annoyance on her girlfriend’s the Fashionista’s face.  “I…I can’t,” she forces out, face flushing a brilliant red.

“Huh?”  Junko bends down lower and cocks her head to one side.  “What did you say?  You gotta speak up, or I won’t—”

“I can’t swim!” Mikan squeaks out, shrill as steam bursting through a tea kettle’s spout.  Her hands clench into fists and instinctively come up in front of her chest as she hunches forward, prepared for a smack on the back of her head.  “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry!”

Mikan waits for Junko to say something, but she doesn’t say anything.  What’s worse is that she doesn’t do anything either, like she’s frozen by what Mikan’s said.  Sweat trickles down Mikan’s back.  “I-I-I’m sorry!” she repeats in that same squeaking tone.  “I know you…you planned this great…this great—”  (Date.)  “—outing, and I!  I didn’t want to!  Didn’t want to s-s-say anything!  You were so…so e-e-excited, a-a-and I didn’t…didn’t want to—”

Junko plops down in the sand next to her, bare legs splayed out on either side, her toes just touching Mikan’s, manicured toenails bright red against the golden beige of the sand.  “So we’re making sandcastles, then.  You wanna make one big castle, or can we, like, make an entire village?”

Mikan blinks twice and looks up hesitantly to meet Junko’s eyes.  “Wha-wha-huh?”

“If we make an entire village, then we can pretend to be dragons or giants or something and smash through all of them later!”  Junko’s eyes light up, and a huge grin splashes across her face.

“Um!”  Mikan’s fingers begin to tap together, and she drops her gaze, unable to keep looking at the light in Junko’s eyes.  “Y-y-you’re not…you’re not mad at me?”

Junko shakes her head so quick that her twintails slap back and forth on her face.  “Nope!”  Then she reaches over and takes Mikan’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers before giving her a gentle squeeze.  “I love making sandcastles.  It’s my favorite thing to do at the beach!”  She leans forward, so close that Mikan can feel her breath hot on her face.  “How did you know?”

“I-I-I—”

She’s playing with her.  Probably.  No one asks their girlfriend friend someone out to spend a day at the beach and then expects to just sit in the sand all day making sandcastles.  They ask them to the beach to go play in the ocean!  (And, if it’s a large enough group, to play sand volleyball.)  Sure, there’s a lot more to do at the beach than swimming in the ocean – sandcastles, of course, and sunbathing and people watching (which Mikan has done frequently on beach trips, when everyone else goes swimming – or because no one else really wants her around) and collecting seashells, but….

Mikan turns away from Junko, takes her hand away from her girlfriend’s the Fashionista’s, and clasps her hands together in her lap.  “You really…really don’t mind?”  She presses her lips together again.  “Th-th-that I don’t….”  Her voice trails off, and her gaze falls again.

“I mean, not going to lie, it kind of sucks because it’s fucking hot out here, and the ocean’s the best fucking way to cool off.”  Junko grabs her ankles and leans back, tilting her head to look up at the bright blue sky.  “But.”  She glances over to Mikan and grins, one of her canines just poking out over her lips.  “I still get to see you in a swimsuit,” she says, reaching over and running a finger up Mikan’s waist, “so I can forgive your little…indiscretion.”

As Junko brushes her finger ice cold along Mikan’s skin, Mikan flinches.  “S-s-sorry,” she whispers, gaze lifting just enough to take in Junko and what she’s wearing.  Junko’s swimsuit leaves little to the imagination, nothing more than strings in most places, perfectly fitting of the Ultimate Fashionista.  They should take pictures of her like this (they probably already have); they should make sand sculptures in her honor and place them in museums so that future generations can—

“Mikan,” Junko murmurs, reaching up and gently lifting Mikan’s chin, “my eyes are up here.”

“S-s-sorry—”  Mikan barely squeaks the word out, until she notices that Junko has lifted her gaze so that it falls on her lips, not on her eyes.  She swallows.  “J-J-Junko-sama…?”

“Hm?” Junko purrs.

Mikan’s gaze flits up to meet her girlfriend’s eyes and then back down.  She licks her lips.  “M-m-may…may I…?”

“Always.”  But as Mikan leans towards her, Junko holds up a finger and places it on her lips, brow furrowing.  “But if you ask if you should take your clothes off while we’re in public, we’re gonna have a problem, because that’s kind of nasty.  I love a good fucking sicko, but—”

Mikan kisses her fingertip.

“—not in public.”  Junko leans forward and brushes her nose against Mikan’s.  “Okay?”

Mikan kisses her and hums as she feels Junko smile against her lips.  This is the best part of being together – being able to do things like this.  She nearly pouts when Junko pulls away from her, although that expression disappears in her fear that Junko will be displeased with her.

“Sandcastles,” Junko murmurs against her lips.  “We were going to make sandcastles.”  She taps the top of the building Mikan was crafting when we found her.  “And we’re going to put a little you and a little me right here at the top of the biggest one.”

“I-I-I thought you said we were going to…going to destroy them—”

“Well, sure.”  Junko flashes her a grin.  “World’s not big enough for two of me, even if one of them’s in miniature!”  She brushes a kiss against Mikan’s cheek before whispering in her ear, “You’d probably love multiple of me, though, huh?  Two of me to pay you such good attention—”

“N-n-no!” Mikan says in a near panic, eyes wide as she draws back from Junko.  “I j-j-just…I just want you, Junko-sama!  Just you.”  Her gaze drops.  “There can’t…there can’t ever be another you.”

Junko runs her fingers through Mikan’s hair and brushes it back behind one ear.  “Sure there can,” she murmurs, “but it’s nice to hear you say that.”  Then she grins again and digs her fists into the sand.  “Let’s build!  I’m sure you won’t believe this, but I’m fantastic at building sandcastles!”

(She’s fantastic at destroying them, too, but Mikan doesn’t learn that until later, when they’re dancing barefoot in the sand, just before Junko drags her to the open waves to rinse off their feet.)