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tianasficrecs168 · 3 months

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Venom fanfic recs

A black dot • means it's a one-shot

A heart ♡ means it's focused on Sexy times (it's pure filth PWP, or like, a plot focused on getting to the porn part lol)

Wildehack: “Intra-personal negotiation” (Eddie/Venom) • How fucked is that, that a compromise that ended with eating raw shark liver under the Golden Gate Bridge in the dead of night is probably the most interpersonally mature he’s ever been? Intra-personally, Venom corrects, not really paying attention.

Arahir: “Wrapped around your finger” (Eddie/Venom) • Venom goes about love in every wrong way he knows how. Thank god for late night television. “Me. They invited me for dinner,” Eddie insists, trying again to make his hair look some specific way in the mirror. He’s given up and started over three times. It’s a double date. Like on that show. “What—what are you watching that there are double dates? Jesus. I should cancel cable. Make you read a book instead.” No!

Impertinence: “Something Like A Pipe Bomb” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie already had enough problems, what with being a busy reporter with an alien parasite, when he caught one of his neighbors holding a fridge above her head. Now he has twice as many problems, including a kid who won't stop treating him like the big brother she never had and a moody alien parasite. Or: you can totally secretly pine while sharing a brain with someone else, as Venom and Eddie are both determined to prove.

Pepperfield: “That blessed arrangement” (Venom/Eddie) • That’s us, Eddie, Venom says suddenly, with a bizarre amount of intensity. We’re like these two fools. Eddie squints at the screen for a second before he understands. “What, married?” Venom is well aware that they live in a romantic comedy. Eddie isn’t, but he’ll get the picture eventually.

Dezemberzarin: “The no dating policy” (Venom/Eddie) • a two-shot series What’s the point? Eddie glances around to the other people hurrying along the sidewalk, lowers his voice until he’s muttering into the collar of his jacket. “I like sex! I want to have sex again in the future, so you’ll have to find a way to deal with it.” If you say so.

xzombiexkittenx: “Nice to Taste” (Venom/Eddie) • Eddie doesn’t do well when he thinks the symbiote died in the fire. He doesn’t tell Dan that suicide is the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. He didn’t go to the Golden Gate Bridge to throw Anne’s engagement ring into the water, he went there to throw himself but got distracted by Dr. Skirth’s messages and justice against Drake instead.

Tuesday: “Terms of Endearment” (Venom/Eddie) • In which there are accidental pet names, Eddie leaning into being in love with an alien symbiote, and an ill-advised kidnapping. — The first time Eddie called Venom dear, it was automatic. They were shopping, and Eddie bypassed the freezer section to pick up some chocolate first. Venom said, "Don't forget the tater tots." Eddie, well-trained by more than one serious relationship in his life, said, "Yes, dear."

Ottergirl: “Heartthrob” (Venom/Eddie) ♡ • He feels encompassing when Eddie says that, he feels like there's no end to him. All that affection in Eddie's voice and the knowing, knowing he wants to be with Venom, wants to belong to Venom. Eddie calls Venom by a pet name, and Venom likes it. Maybe a little too much.

MercurialTenacity: - “Nightlife” (Venom/Eddie) ♡ • Eddie is soft when he sleeps. During the day he’s wound taut, one thing or another always running through his head and keeping tension in his muscles, but when he’s asleep - oh yes, when he’s asleep his defenses melt away. All the hard edges smooth out, his body goes all loose and pliant, and his mind mellows into the background. Venom loves when Eddie sleeps, and he does it for hours at a time. Sometimes even eight or nine. Nine whole hours, and Venom has its host’s warm body right there to explore.

Redredribbons: “Storms” (Venom/Eddie) • The Symbiote struggles to understand human habits and biorhythms. Especially Eddie's, when his own brain seems intent on sabotaging him.

Stereobone: “No Idea That You’re in Deep” (Venom/Eddie) ♡ • If the last eight months have shown Eddie anything, it's that foresight is not his strong suit.

Surveycorpsjean: - “Lovesick Baby” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie spent his whole life alone in his head. Now he’s not sure he could ever go back. Sometimes, you want things you shouldn't.

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munson-blurbs · 2 years

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I am thinking older Eddie? 🤔 he's not nearly as confident as he used to be but meets his dream gal at maybe a concert? Gets his groove back. Maybe he's a single dad who feels like he hasn't had time or energy to be himself anymore and she makes him feel like that again?

I just feel like you'll be able to really make it so good.

Warnings: none--all fluff :)

WC: 2.7k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Okay, his bedtime is 7:30 PM, but if you get him down before 8:30, I’ll be amazed,” Eddie tells his uncle, grabbing his guitar case and slinging it over his shoulder. “He’s in that phase where he only wants to eat macaroni and cheese, so just go with that tonight. No need for you to fight with him over it.”

Wayne chuckles, bouncing the toddler on his hip. “And when will you be out of your ‘only eating macaroni and cheese’ phase?” he asks Eddie, who promptly flips him off in response. “Hey! Not in front of the impressionable kid!”

“Daddy will see you when you wake up tomorrow,” Eddie promises his son, pressing a quick kiss to his scalp. “Be good for Grandpa.”

“Oh, he’s always good for me,” Wayne says, making a funny face at the little boy. “Isn’t that right, Kirk?” He frowns as Kirk’s tiny bottom lip quivers and he reaches out for his dad. “C’mon, buddy; Dad has to go to his concert!”

“No!” Kirk whines, crocodile tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. Eddie’s heart pangs, and he second guesses his decision to go out.

As though he can read his nephew’s mind, Wayne tuts at Eddie’s hesitation. “Nuh-uh, absolutely not. You haven’t done anything for yourself since this troublemaker was born.” He wipes a tear from Kirk’s face and blows a raspberry into his belly. A mix of giggles and sobs leaves the boy’s throat. “We’re gonna be just fine. Now, go.” He practically shoves Eddie out the door.

It’s been ten years since Eddie graduated from Hawkins High. The day he crossed that stage, middle fingers aimed at his exasperated principal, he’d vowed never to return to this shithole town. And he’d kept that promise up until two years ago. Kirk was only five months old when Celeste had up and left, claiming that she couldn’t handle the stress of motherhood any longer. She’d left her key to their dingy apartment on the countertop, along with the engagement ring Eddie had saved so long to buy her. He’d pawned it a few weeks later, desperate to scrounge up some money for baby formula. And when that money ran out, he’d found himself back in his hometown, bunking with his uncle. Again.

The goal was to move out, get a little place for himself and Kirk, and give Wayne his trailer—and his freedom—back. After years of raising his brother’s kid, the last thing he probably wanted was to help raise his nephew’s. For the most part, Eddie’s able to balance his job as a telemarketer and fatherhood, especially since he mostly works from home. But on the days where he has to schlep into the office, he relies on Wayne for child care. His salary is decent, and he has medical coverage for himself and his kid, but he hates working a nine-to-five desk job.

He tunes the radio to a classic rock station, bypassing whatever saccharine pop songs repeat on the Top 40 channels. A smile tugs at his lips when he hears the familiar bridge.

Master, master

Where’s the dreams that I’ve been after?

Master, master

You promised only lies

It takes him back to a time where his only worries were passing O’Donnell’s class and planning sadistic Hellfire campaigns. Now, his life revolves around potty training and quelling temper tantrums. But even on his most exhausting days, like when he makes Kirk exactly what he wants for lunch, and the kid flips the plate onto the floor, he would do anything for him. He’d choose his son one thousand times over.

Did I leave the number to the club in case of an emergency? he thinks, slamming on the brakes and nearly causing a collision before remembering that he’d jotted it down on a notepad and given it to Wayne.

It’s been too long since he’s played in front of anyone, save for lullabies to get Kirk to sleep. But Gareth was coming back to Indiana for a weekend, and he’d damn near begged the guys for a one-night only Corroded Coffin reunion. Eddie didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

He looks over his shoulder into the backseat, catching a glimpse of Kirk’s car seat. Who would’ve thought that the teenager who used to try to hook up with girls in the back of the van–emphasis on try–would now spend his time cleaning out Cheerio crumbs between the seats?

Pulling into the parking lot, Eddie breathes out a nervous sigh. He’s been practicing every day, all the covers they used to play back in the mid-80s, but he doesn’t have the same confidence he did back when they jammed out at the Hideout. Being a parent certainly knocks you down a few pegs, has you questioning yourself all too often.

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters to himself, pulling his guitar from the trunk and heading into the club.

“Hey, man! Long time no see!” Jeff claps him on the back, and Gareth pulls him in for a hug. “Jesus, it’s been years.”

“You didn’t bring the kid?” Gareth asks, peering around.

Eddie just laughs. “Nah, ‘s a little past his bedtime. Plus,” he adds, “I don’t want him starting school and singing ‘Hot for Teacher.’” The rest of the band shares a chuckle and starts warming up.

“Did you guys check out the bartender?” Trevor asks, tuning his bass. “She’s a cutie, if any of you wanna chat her up later.”

Gareth snorts. “Eddie’s the only single one out of us; and we all know how he is with the ladies.” He turns to his friend. “Seriously, when’s the last time you got any, dude?”

Too long, Eddie thinks, but just gives Gareth a friendly shove. “Your mom gave it to me good last night.” He grins as Jeff and Trevor chime in with a chorus of oohs. But he’s curious about this bartender, so he peeks around the curtain.

And there you are.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. You’re wearing a black tank top that frames your chest perfectly, paired with a denim miniskirt. Your eyes crinkle as you giggle at something a patron says, and Eddie feels himself melt. “She’s, like, really fuckin’ pretty.” His eyes widen. “Should I talk to her?”

“Let’s play our set first, all right Casanova?” Jeff jokes. “Impress her with your kickass vocals and guitar skills, if you’ve still got ‘em.”

Eddie gives him the middle finger, but he’s wondering the same thing. He doesn’t have time to explore it further before the emcee is announcing Corroded Coffin. “Showtime, boys!” Eddie calls out, hoping no one catches the warble in his voice.

Forty minutes later, the four guys jog off the stage, drenched in sweat and filled with adrenaline.

“That…was…awesome!” Trevor shouts, high-fiving the rest of them. “We can still rock after all these years!”

Eddie’s grinning so wide, his lips could stretch off of his face. “Hell yeah, we do! Woooo!” He grabs a towel and wipes his forehead and back of his neck. He feels like he’s on top of the world; nothing he’d bought from Reefer Rick ever gave him this type of high. He clenches the guitar pick that hangs around his neck; it’s just like the one he wore in high school, except this one has a photo of Kirk on it. Wayne had it custom made for Kirk’s first Christmas. Your old man was a rockstar tonight, little buddy, he thinks, hopefully, you’ll be able to watch me in action someday.

His thoughts are interrupted by a light knocking. He turns around to see you standing in the doorway, holding a tray with four ice-cold glasses of water. “You boys thirsty?” you ask, flashing a smile that could knock him right off of his feet.

“Eddie sure is,” Jeff mutters with a smirk, which disappears as soon as Eddie shoots him a glare. If looks could kill, Jeff would be six feet under right about now.

You cock your brow with a confused expression, but Eddie just shoves his hands in his pockets and meanders over. “Thanks,” he mumbles, plucking a glass from the tray.

“Are you…Eddie?” You look up at him through your lashes, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Thas’ me,” he says with a small laugh. “Did you like the show?” He could smack himself; you probably tuned out the music at this point. Especially loud metal covers by a bunch of late twenty-somethings.

He’s surprised by your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, you guys are amazing! It was a nice change from the grunge bands that usually play.” You wrinkle your nose. “The other day, we had someone come in who only sang Spice Girls songs. That was interesting.”

Eddie laughs, despite his nerves. “Was she any good, at least?”

“No,” you reply pointedly, “he was not.” You motion towards his empty cup. “Want a refill? Or maybe something stronger?”

“Maybe just a Shirley Temple; he’s gotta get up in the morning with his kid,” Gareth pipes up, and Eddie whips his dirty towel at his head.

Your eyes soften. “You have a kid?” It’s not an accusation, nor is it said with disgust, which Eddie is all-too used to.

“Y-Yeah, a two-year-old,” he stammers, leaning forward slightly to show the guitar pick necklace with his son’s photo on it. “His name’s Kirk.”

“As in Hammett, or as in Captain?” you tease. “Or both?”

Eddie runs a hand through his tangled curls. “Hammett; definitely Hammett,” he answers with a chuckle. “Kid’s probably cooler than him, too.”

“Well, his dad is a total rockstar, so I’m not surprised,” you shrug. “C’mon back to the bar with me, and I’ll get you that Shirley Temple. On the house,” you add.

Jeff waggles his eyebrows and Trevor lets out a low wolf-whistle as Eddie follows you. Gareth is still traumatized from the towel incident to mess with him.

He used to flirt with bartenders all the time; the more out of his league they were, the more fun it was to shoot his shot. But he’s out of practice now, and it doesn’t help that he’s completely intimidated by you.

Think, Munson, think, he wills himself. “So, uh, what’s your name?” You give him your name, and he smiles. “That’s a kickass name, yeah.” A ‘kickass name’? That’s the best you could come up with?

You only laugh at his response. “I mean, I’m not named after Kirk Hammett, but it’s not half bad.”

“Nah, it’s a good name.” Okay, enough with the name, Jesus. “How long have you been a bartender?”

“Feels like forever,” you muse. “It’s my night gig; just a way to make money while I’m working on my novel.” You drop some maraschino cherries into a clean glass. “Fun fact: thinking about publishing a book pays zero dollars.”

“You’re an author?” Eddie asks incredulously. “What kinda book are you writing?”

A blush creeps into your cheeks. “An aspiring author, I guess,” you say shyly, “but it’s a fantasy novel, like a Lord of the Rings type of thing.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve read Tolkien?” Duh; she literally just compared her work to his. Why else would she do that?

“He’s one of my favorite authors,” you admit, pouring the sweet grenadine and ginger ale before sliding the glass to him. “Him, Stephen King, Mary Shelley…”

“No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, and you look at him quizzically. “I mean, I’ve never met someone so pretty who was also into fantasy.”

You giggle at the compliment. “Well, maybe we could talk more about it sometime? Like, when I’m not on the clock?”

Eddie’s head spins at the offer. “You drink coffee?” he blurts out. He couldn’t stand the stuff when he was younger, but after far too many sleepless nights with a colicky infant, he’d acquired a taste for it.

“I do,” you nod, grabbing the pen from behind your right ear and snatching the nearest unused napkin you can find. “Let me give you my phone number, if you wanna call me.”

They’re the most beautiful ten digits Eddie’s ever seen. “If I wanna…of course, yeah, that sounds great.” He folds the napkin carefully before putting it in his pocket, not wanting to smudge the ink. “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’ll be at home, writing,” you laugh. “See you around, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya…thanks for your number,” he manages before darting back to the band, beaming like a kid who just woke up to a pile of presents on Christmas morning. “Oh, shit,” he says suddenly, reaching into his wallet and fumbling for some cash, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill.

“I told you,” you remind him with the smile that makes him swoon, “I’ll cover this one. Use the money you’re saving to buy something awesome for Kirk.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Gotta at least leave a tip for excellent service. And for managing not to tell those idiots back there to shut the fuck up.” Although he wouldn’t have been mad if you had. At this point, he didn’t think there was anything you could do that would turn him off.

“Nah, they’re harmless,” you wave off his statement. “Trust me, that’s nothing compared to some of the things guys say to me.” You shudder at the memory of the perverted statements leaving their whiskey-soaked lips.

Eddie sits up straighter. “Like what?” he asks, voice brimming with concern.

“Oh, you know.” You try to sound casual. “Commenting on my body, grabbing my ass, asking to take me home–even when I can see that they’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“Sounds like you need a bodyguard,” he muses, taking a sip of his drink, rings clinking against the glass. The sugar perks him up as soon as it hits his tongue.

“You offering?” It comes out more salacious than you’d anticipated, but you’re not about to take it back. The look on his face is priceless; he’s clearly not used to people flirting with him so brazenly.

You watch as Eddie gives a shy smile, caught off-guard yet again. He toys with his necklace before answering. “Gotta earn my free drinks somehow. Otherwise, I’m just a mooch.”

“Yeah, but you’re a really cute mooch, so…” you giggle, wiping down the bar with a nearby towel. “I’d call it even.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. You think he’s cute? Really cute? He wants to ask if it’s a joke, or a prank that the guys put you up to. But you seem so genuine, and it’s been years since anyone has made him feel this special, so he swallows his insecurities. “Th-thanks,” he stutters. “I think it’s mostly the guitar; makes me look like a big shot.”

“I think it’s your eyes. Or your smile,” you counter, placing your hand on top of his. “But the guitar certainly doesn’t hurt.” You glance down at his ringed fingers. “None of these symbolize an everlasting union, do they?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p dramatically. “Just my commitment to tacky jewelry.”

You laugh, leaning in a bit closer to him. “I think I can handle that.” And for a moment, the world stops as Eddie’s breath hitches. He’s desperate to kiss you, but he’s sticky with sweat and doesn’t want to do anything in the dingy bar where you work. No, you deserve a nice date at a fancy restaurant with a freshly-showered Eddie Munson.

“Hey, Romeo!” Jeff calls out, walking towards the two of you with the rest of the band. “Wanna grab some pizza before your carriage turns back into a pumpkin?”

No, Eddie thinks crossly, I want to stay here and talk to the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen until closing time.

“I’ve gotta get back to work anyway,” you reassure him. “But we can continue this conversation over that coffee date.”

Eddie visibly relaxes at the mention of your next meeting. “Abso-fuckin-lutely,” he agrees. And before he can wimp out, he presses his lips to your cheek, watching as your cheeks tinge a delicious shade of pink.

Look at you, Munson. Back in the game.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #requests

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silverdune · 9 days

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the purgatory papers | introduction: part one

"i’m so sorry, but, you can’t retire. not yet. not right now."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked. main masterlist character(s): gn!reader, jeong yunho tags: explicit language, banter, reader is tired, yunho's kind of a little shit, loose interpretations of heaven, hell and purgatory word count: 2.1k summary: you, an elder of purgatory, are ready to retire your position as the manifestation of a newspaper columnist, someone who got the scoop on feuds between the angels and devils of heaven and hell. however, when you go to yunho - the leader of purgatory - to explain this, he reveals he has another job for you, and a very important one at that..

a/n: so this is mainly to hold myself accountable for posting a masterlist in the first place. i know it's been two months but tbh i had next to no motivation; please enjoy anyways;

You need a break from all of this.

For the last two millennia, you had been at the forefront of capturing every feud that has happened between the angels and devils of heaven and hell, and now you’ve decided that you’ve just about had enough of all of it.

You think with such derision, and yet, it was never a terrible job, just a tedious one. Of course, there was something innately thrilling about learning of all the gossip that had cooked up between the two worlds you in purgatory had been sandwiched between, but as an elder now, it’s about time you give it up.

Elder is only a nominative term, for no one upstairs in heaven, hell or purgatory ever aged. A symbol of status above anything else, something to resemble a sort of hierarchy among the people who roamed the amorphous sectors of the world upstairs.

Ever since you had become an apprentice in purgatory, you had been working to take over from the last elder who had retired their position of newspaper columnist. How it worked was very simple: if there was any news of a potential feud brewing between an angel and devil, a dweller of purgatory would be sent down to the mortal world to.. manifest as it were. In that, sporting a glamour fashioned out of the very idea of a journalist. Someone whom a regular person in the mortal world would bypass for fear of being cornered for an interview or caught on their accomplice’s camera.

This had been your job for a while, under the wing of your no-nonsense, lukewarm-blooded boss, Jeong Yunho.

But as you reminisce on your life manifesting as a being most wouldn’t spit on in a house fire, you decide that the time is nigh to tell your boss you wish to retire.

As you descend the sprawling corridors to his understated office, you flick through a heavy-loaded notebook tucked in the crook of your right elbow. Inside are all the details of every past feud you’ve ever reported on, and it brings a flash of the weakest smile to your lips as you remember all the trials and tribulations you went through to get such information. No angel or devil really ever thanked you for it. You suppose it was hard luck on their part.

Once you reach the door to Yunho’s office, you knock three times, muscles taut at the broad but hollow sound that reverberates after each strike.

From the other side of what feels like a concrete door, Yunho’s voice rings loud and clear. “Enter.”

You push open the door with little effort and say nothing as you step into his office. Yunho’s eyes are downturned, far more interested in the paperwork before him than he is in engaging in conversation. That is until he finally looks up and sees you.

“Ah. N. I was hoping you’d stop by.”

“Oh?” you ask, airily. “Nothing bad I hope.” You take a seat on the chair opposite his and place your notebook on the desk. Lighter than most of the volumes Yunho keeps stashed away in his filing cabinets, but still hefty enough to cause a thud when set down.

“No, n- well- depends on how you define that term.”

You cock a brow and fold your arms. “I’m suspicious,” you quip. You enjoy your little back and forths with your boss. Around the eyes of the many members of purgatory you kept it strictly professional, but you’d been under Yunho’s wing enough time for him to excuse a tiny bit of banter in his office.

He scoffs a laugh that doesn’t reach his lungs before bringing out a piece of paper from beneath the wad of many. “I’ve got a job for you,” he announces flippantly. You blink, then chew the insides of your lip. No, for the love of-

Then, Yunho looks you directly in the eyes, expecting your eagerness to take another job.

You reward him with an awkwardly vacant stare.

“N,” he prompts, thinking he needs to coax you back to the room, “got another job.” He waves the paper around then puts it on top of your notebook.

“Ha..” You scratch your forehead, unable to stifle a smile and a hapless chuckle at the sight of a new task. “Y’see, um..” Trapping your tongue between your lips, you attempt to let him down gently.

Yunho clasps his hands together on the desk and frowns, puzzled. He then drops all pretence and states bluntly, “N, I hate to break it to you, but this is important.”

The exit signs disappear until you click your spine back into place and look him dead in the eyes. “There’s a reason I came to see you, actually, Yunho, and it’s um..” He hardens his gaze, a rare sight in your three millennia under his wing. You fall back in your chair and take a deep breath. “Yunho, I’ve come to tell you that I wish to retire.”

Yunho’s eyes widen, his expression changing from sharp to putty in seconds. An even rarer sight. “Wh-What?”

A genuine loss for words. So rare you never sought to bring it out of him.

You stare at one another for a while, not a single glance spared to the paperwork on the desk.

Once Yunho finally finds his resolve, he still has to repeat the word a few times so it sounds remotely real. “R-Retire? Retire? You actually want to.. retire?”

“Retire. Yes,” you say, concretely.

Yunho doesn’t miss a beat. He leans across the desk, his features shifting again, this time to profound regret. All of this is so new to you. You wish cameras worked upstairs.

“N.. I’m so sorry, but, you can’t retire. Not yet. Not right now.”

His voice is low and filled with.. guilt. Honest to God guilt.

“What do you mean?” Your head is spinning with thoughts. You look down at the paperwork Yunho had presented to you earlier and actually study it this time.

You don’t have to study long, though, for Yunho fills in the blanks running rampant in your mind.

“This job.. It’s a big one, the biggest yet, in fact.” You glance up, and he meets your eyes. There’s an emotion in there you can’t quite decipher, but it’s yet another one he’s never openly expressed before now. The lukewarm leader of purgatory had no room for strong emotions. “It’s huge because.. I’m not the one asking after you.”

You straighten up in your seat. Your face stiffens. You manage to blurt out a quiet, “Who?”

“Hell’s overseer. The High Devil. Hongjoong.”

You fall back in your seat after a few seconds. So that’s why Yunho has the perpetual look of fear and dread on his face.

“Well.. shit,” is all you can murmur. Never before has a job come through him. You’ve never even met the man, why would he want your assistance after all this time?

You ask Yunho this very question and he exhales with full dramatic effect. “This feud’s gotten under his skin a fair bit. And in the metrics of hell, a fair bit means his resolve is ash on the floor.”

Folding your arms, you chew on your tongue for a while, thinking of a response to what feels like the ultimate task. The final boss, as a percentage of mortals have been historically known to say.

For some reason you can’t explain, you feel nothing but a dormant sense of exasperation. You had your whole retirement figured out and now there’s a huge, High Devil-shaped wrench in your plans.

You wonder if you’d get away with lying about already having retired. It’s not like you in the slightest but you’ve been doing this for far too long, Yunho would understand, wouldn’t he?

His downturned smile and heavy, fixated stare say otherwise. You frown.

“Guess I got no choice, huh?”

Yunho rolls his eyes and sits back in his own chair. “If I figured you had a choice, I would actually be encouraging you to retire.”

“Gee, I’m so thankful,” you reply with half-hearted sarcasm.

Your boss looks you in the eyes, and it causes you to swallow. He leans back over the table, and it makes the single light fixture above your heads seem dimmer than it was a second ago. “N, I don’t present this news with any kind of joy or malice. I know I may have seemed surprised-” - your brows flick up; seemed is quite the understatement - “but in truth, it doesn’t come as a surprise now that I’ve had some time to think about it. I remember what your mood was like at the end of the last job; I figured if you weren’t going to retire then, you would definitely retire soon.”

It’s true. During your last job, you almost tossed all the information into a word salad. You were that disillusioned from the tedium of it all.

He continues, “But considering this feud is so serious, I told Hongjoong that I would give you the job, but made him promise that he wouldn’t ask after you again, hinting that I thought you might quit for good.”

You shift in your seat at that revelation. The idea that the two of them had a conversation that lasted longer than just a couple of words is astounding to you.

Eyeing the paperwork in front of you, you notice that it’s quite barren for a task sheet. It describes the absolute basics, and the only names on there are yours and Hongjoong’s.

“So, I assume he’s not feuding with himself.”

Yunho senses your confusion. “It’s an angel and devil, no doubt, but he didn’t want to write it down on the sheet.. He actually wants to discuss it with you in person.”

You glance up, eyes wide and completely hollow. “In.. In person?”

“Unprecedented, I know. Typically I wouldn’t go for it, but Hongjoong was adamant that he wanted to discuss this in person, so, there you go.”

No other explanation given. It feels like your brain is bleeding out of your ears. “Is.. Is that it?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

His curt reply is equal parts infuriating and daunting. There are so many questions you want to ask, but you realise you’ll have to leave them all for Hell’s overseer.

One question floats to the front, however. “So, when will I be paying Old Horns a visit?”

Yunho spares you a cursory glance but says nothing on your discreet nickname for Hongjoong, except a warning look that says, don’t let him catch you calling him that. “Tomorrow, mid-afternoon. Make it quick, then make yourself scarce. The devils will be sniffing around wondering what you’re doing.”

“But I don’t even know which devil I’m looking out for! Or angel, for that matter.”

“It’s best if you don’t make a scene of yourself at all. Give the gatewatchers this,” he fashions a card out of thin air and passes it to you, “and tell them you have express permission to visit the High Devil on urgent business.”

You inspect the red card and read the words scribbled on the front.

Issued by the High Devil. Allowance for one visit. No transfers. Terms and exclusions may apply.

“He’s a real catch, ain’t he?” you jest, earning an irreverent scoff from the man opposite. You slip it into your inside jacket pocket then fold the piece of paper. “I’ll make sure I’m not late.”

“Good- oh! By the way, you’ll have company.”

Yunho says this as your part way through standing up, believing the card to be your exit from this meeting. Knees awkwardly bent in place, you process Yunho’s words then slump back down on the seat. “Company?” you utter, disgruntled.

“Company,” he smiles dryly. “I thought it would be a good idea to start training an apprentice in the process of you getting the scoop on this feud, so, you’ll have an ex-spectre joining you.”

Ex-spectre? Odd, you think; spectres are newbies to hell who have been there less than a millennia. Your brows furrow, bewilderment sweeping your features as a million more questions flood your mind.“He’ll be here tomorrow, you can meet him after you’ve spoken with Hongjoong.”

“Right.. Am I not allowed to know this person’s name, since, y’know, I guess I’ve been swept into babysitting now.”

Yunho glares at you. “His name is Choi Jongho. He left Hell after six centuries. I’m sure he’ll explain more once you meet him.”

Ah. That explains a lot.

“I see.. So-”

“Tomorrow, N,” Yunho declares in his usual business-like demeanour. You straighten up; no messing with him when he uses that tone.

With a new, unwitting obligation to carry out another task on your back, you pick up your notebook and bid your boss a short goodbye before leaving his office when he says nothing in return.

Your spine locks against the door as you sit with your life for the next however many weeks.

One thing you know for certain: you are not looking forward to this meeting.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san scenarios #san imagines #yeosang scenarios #yeosang imagines #san x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez au #ateez fanfic #words.(ave)#fic: the purgatory papers

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sonicfanj · 1 year

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Been enjoying a hiatus, but an idea inspired by @/XenoScarlet on Twitter was just begging to be realized.

More details after the jump!

Design wise, Amy's fortune-teller dress from SEGA of Japan's isekai stories this year is obviously the foundation with Phantom from BlazBlue inspiring the rest of the silhouette and general vibe. The curses accompanying her transformation are all designed to specifically isolate Amy, especially from the way she normally engages with the world. Her energetic, contact driven excitement is completely taken from her in this form. She can't talk, she can't reach out to others, others can't attempt to touch her, she has almost no mobility, her veil stops any form of meaningful emoting, and the hat on her head can't help at all and is more of a hinderance anyway. Well, at least these are all problems physically, since mastering magic will naturally allow her to bypass most of these problems and eventually get the keys for the Keyhole Rings keeping her trapped in this transformation. Despite all the lore though, I have no plans for this idea at the moment beyond making use of Keyhole Rings in my main AU. Still, I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts and hope that you enjoy!

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #my art #transformation #curse

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helluva-family · 1 month

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Moxxie, you have immunity! He won't kill you so long as your pregnant, you can still protect Millie

The Greed Ring, a desolate wasteland of opulence and corruption. The sky is an ominous greenish hue, reflecting the greed and malice that permeate the air. Millie and Stolas stand at the edge of a large estate, Crimson’s mansion looming in the distance. The mansion is surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence, the gates flanked by armed guards, shark-like demons who watch with predatory eyes. Millie’s expression is set in grim determination, while Stolas stands tall, his eyes glowing faintly with magical energy.

Millie: *Gritting her teeth, her voice low but resolute* He’s in there, Stolas. I know it. Moxxie needs us.

Stolas: *Nodding, his voice calm but serious* We will get him back, Millie. I promise you that. But be cautious—Crimson won’t let him go without a fight.

*Millie clenches her fists, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anger. The thought of Moxxie, pregnant with their child, being held by that monster fills her with a cold, seething rage. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, knowing she needs to stay focused if they’re going to succeed.*

Millie: *Determined* I don’t care how many of those bastards we have to go through. We’re getting my husband back.

*Stolas raises a hand, and with a flourish, he opens a portal directly through the mansion’s defenses, bypassing the gate and security systems. The portal shimmers with a deep purple hue, and on the other side, the front courtyard of Crimson’s mansion comes into view. Without hesitation, Millie steps through, with Stolas following close behind. As soon as they cross into the courtyard, alarms blare, and the guards spring into action, charging at the intruders with weapons drawn.*

Stolas: *Glancing at Millie* I’ll handle the guards. You focus on finding Moxxie.

Millie: Be careful, Stolas. These guys ain’t gonna play fair.

*Stolas gives her a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the approaching guards. With a wave of his hand, he sends a wave of energy crashing into them, scattering them like leaves in the wind. The guards recover quickly, however, regrouping and rushing at Stolas from all sides. As Stolas engages them in a fierce magical battle, Millie darts toward the mansion’s entrance, her sickles at the ready. *

*Millie moves with practiced precision, taking out any guards that cross her path with swift, brutal efficiency. She’s driven by the thought of Moxxie, vulnerable and in danger, and nothing will stop her from reaching him. She bursts through the front doors of the mansion, her eyes scanning the opulent hallway for any sign of her husband.*

Millie: Come on, Mox… where are you?

*As she moves deeper into the mansion, the atmosphere becomes more oppressive, the weight of Crimson’s malevolent presence pressing down on her. She’s almost to the grand staircase when she hears a slow, mocking clap echoing through the hallway. Millie stops in her tracks, her grip tightening on her sickles as she turns to face the source of the sound. Striker steps out of the shadows, a smug grin on his face as he leisurely approaches her, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.*

Striker: *Clapping slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm* Well, well, look who made it this far. I gotta say, I’m impressed. Most wouldn’t have gotten past the front gate.

Millie: *Snarling, her eyes blazing with fury* Get outta my way, Striker. I’m not here to play games with you. Where’s Moxxie?

Striker: Oh, he’s here, alright. Safe and sound… for now. But I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making demands, darlin’. Not when I’m the one standing between you and your precious hubby.

*Millie’s heart races, but she refuses to show any fear. She knows Striker is dangerous, but she also knows she can’t let him intimidate her. She raises her sickles, ready to fight.*

Millie: I’m giving you one last chance, Striker. Move, or I’ll make you move.

Striker: *Grinning wider, pulling out his knife and pistol* Oh, I was hopin’ you’d say that. I’ve been itchin’ for a good fight.

*Without another word, the two launch at each other, the clash of weapons ringing out as they engage in a vicious battle.*

Millie: *Glaring daggers at Striker, her voice steady but laced with fury* You’ve messed with the wrong Imp’s family, Striker. You ain’t walking away from this one.

*Without another word, Millie charges at Striker with a wild battle cry, her twin sickles gleaming in the dim light. Striker deftly sidesteps her initial attack, drawing his pistol and firing a shot. Millie dodges, the bullet grazing her arm, but she doesn’t slow down. She spins around and slashes at Striker, her movements fueled by rage and determination. Striker blocks her attack with his knife, the sound of metal clashing echoing in the air.*

Striker: *Smirking, his tone mocking* Not bad, sweetheart. But you’ve gotta be quicker than that if you wanna keep up with me.

Millie: *Snarling* I ain’t just keepin’ up, I’m takin’ you down!

*Millie presses the attack, her strikes becoming more aggressive as she tries to find an opening. Striker matches her blow for blow, his smirk never leaving his face. He’s toying with her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As Millie lunges forward with both sickles aimed at his chest, Striker suddenly twists his body, avoiding the attack and delivering a brutal punch to her stomach. Millie gasps in pain, momentarily stunned, and Striker takes the opportunity to grab her by the neck, lifting her off the floor.*

Striker: *His voice low and menacing* I hate to break it to ya, but this ain’t your story, darlin’. It’s Moxxie’s. And he’s got a whole lot more sufferin’ to do.

*Millie struggles, her eyes wide with desperation, but Striker’s grip is too strong. He slams her into the ground, pinning her there as he pulls out a knife and drives it into her chest. Millie lets out a strangled cry, her body twitching as she tries to fight the inevitable. Blood pools beneath her as her vision blurs, the last thing she sees being Striker’s cold, triumphant gaze.*

Striker: *Leaning in close, whispering in her ear* Bye Darlin’.

*Millie’s breath hitches one last time before her body goes limp. Striker stands up, wiping the blood off his blade with a satisfied grin.*

#tldr Millie loses against Striker and is presumed dead #helluva family blog #helluva boss #stolas #stolas ars goetia #Millie #moxxie and millie #Millie dies #or does she?#striker wins

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missesmckinnon · 1 year

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Happy Birthday

James Potter x Regulus Black

Being at the Potter’s was strange at first. It still is, but it was such a drastic change when Regulus was fourteen, to go from a house with people who wished he was dead to a home full of smiles and laughter.

The first time Euphemia climbed the stairs to wish him a good night, Regulus had a panic attack out of fear of being beaten. What had he done wrong so early on?

It’s gotten easier being around everyone. He turned twenty an hour ago, and he knows that the second he leaves his room, James will be there. He’s requested nothing for his birthday, but James will have something for him anyway.

His birthdays aren’t his favourite, but he views them differently here. He’s no longer a year closer to death— well, he is, but he doesn’t focus on that. It’s a day to spend with the love of his life. His brother, too, and Effie and Monty. It’s a happy day now, not something to dread.

He doesn’t remember his birthday’s at Grimmauld well. He remembers Sirius bringing him a cupcake every year, but that’s it. He figures it ended in a Crucio, but he can’t be sure anymore.

The door to his bedroom creaks open. James pokes his head in and smiles when he makes eye contact with Regulus, who has his back against his headboard. He steps in, holding a wrapped box in his hand, small and square. The door closes behind him with a soft click and James sits across from Regulus on the bed. He grips the box tightly but doesn’t hand it over.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks. James can sleep anywhere, really.

James inhales and tosses the box between his hands. “No, actually. Nerves.”

“Nerves?”

“Nerves.”

He passes over to box, wrapping paper slightly crinkled from the pressure of his fingers.

“Happy birthday, Reggie.”

Regulus can’t help the smile on his face as he unwraps the box. It’s soft and velvet, and his smile falls slightly. Is this what he thinks it is?

“Open it, love.”

He opens the box. Right in the middle is a ring. Silver, with three diamond gemstones across the top, embedded in the ring so they don’t protrude. Regulus barely has time to admire the ring before the box is plucked out of his hands. James is on one knee now, clearly nervous but doing his best not to show it.

“Reggie…”

“James…”

“I love you. I never thought I could love someone the way I love you. Even back when you couldn’t do anything but scowl at me, you still made my heart skip a beat. Believe it or not, I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I would marry you. It was last year, when we were watching Harry. You sat with him on the couch the whole time, showing him pictures of all our friends. He would babble and you would respond to him as if he were an adult. I loved you long before that, but that was the moment I knew. I knew I was destined to spend the rest of my life with you, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. You’re my other half.”

Regulus isn’t crying. His mouth is open in shock. He didn’t think people could ever like him, let alone love him. James was the last person he expected, but it’s true— they’re each other’s other half.

James takes the ring out of the box and holds it up. “Regulus Arcturus Black, will you marry me?”

The only thing he can do is nod. He feels the ring slip onto his finger and then James’s lips are on his, passionate and soft. The door opens a second time, and Sirius walks in with Effie and Monty.

Monty hugs Regulus first. “We love you, son.”

Son.

“Two of my boys,” Effie gushes. “Engaged.”

My boys.

“You know,” Sirius says from the windowsill where he decided was the most comfortable, bypassing the bed and the chair and everything else. “I thought I was your other half, Jamie.”

“I can have multiple halves, Sirius,” says James. “Hold on, we’re you three eavesdropping?”

The three of them stay silent and avoid eye contact.

“There’s your answer,” Regulus says, wrapping his arms around James’s waist. His arms come around Regulus’s shoulders.

Regulus knows the feeling, now.

Home.

#written at 2 in the morning #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #james potter x regulus black #sirius black #euphemia potter #fleamont potter

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vangundysdiamonds · 2 years

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Bypass Style Oval Diamond Engagement Ring

14K White Gold Bypass Style Engagement Ring Semi-Mounting with 1/4 ct tw Round Diamonds SI2-I1 H-I. "Available in White, Yellow and Rose Gold".

#diamond engagement rings #oval engagement rings #bypass engagement rings

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jimkryshakjewelers · 2 years

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10 Karat White Gold Bypass Engagement Ring

10 Karat White Gold Bypass Engagement Ring Size 7 With 13=0.25tw Round H-I Color I1 Clarity Diamonds

#Bypass Engagement Rings #gold engagement rings #diamond engagement rings

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hotgirlailen · 1 year

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the way i was so anti jordayla proposal when they showed that promo with the ring and i was so convinced that he wasn’t going to be the one to propose. bc...where are they going? but then jordan got down on one knee and suddenly, it made all the sense in the world. jordan and layla have the luxury of having their life (career wise at least) planned out. she’s doing her record label and he’s trying to play in the nfl. oftentime, ppl delay marriage bc they have to figure their education and career out first to become financially stable. but jordan and layla are able to bypass that. and once he realized that layla is the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he knew that his future will always be with her (ergo the proposal). and it’s such a stark difference from jimone. mainly the fact that they didnt even get a proposal. it was just a random idea they had and decided to run along with it. but also, jimone’s wedding was a plot device to push spencer and liv to finally come face to face with how they felt romantically about each other (for God’s sake, jordan was playing devil’s advocate about why they shouldn’t get married). but with his proposal to Layla, it was clearly planned and thought out. he had time to get an engagement ring, get her ring size and plan a whole thing with fireworks. jordan did not go into their proposal impulsively (granted, it was accelerated because jj found the ring). but he knew, with everything in him, that he wanted to marry layla. additionally, losing billy gave jordan a new perspective on life. no longer does he move with the assumption that he will always have time to do something later at a different time. one minute billy was here and the next, he was gone. he doesn’t have that arrogant belief that there will always be a future bc quite honestly, he doesn’t know if that future will be there waiting for him. he sees himself spending the rest of his life with layla. why wait?

layla accepting his proposal honestly solidified everything for me tho. bc layla is smart. she is grounded, the most mature out of the whole friend group and she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t think she’ll succeed in. layla choosing to marry jordan tells me how strong their relationship is and how much she believes they’ll be able to be successful as a married couple.

im excited for s6 and the potential challenges they might face (but i do expect a long engagement from them tho).

#jordayla #jordan x layla #layla keating #jordan baker

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

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Scream For Me

TW: Dark Rafe! Language. Degrading language. Smut. Violence. Slight blood kink.

!THIS PIECE CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF STALKER AND SOCIOPATHIC/PSYCHOPATHIC BEHAVIORS. PROTECT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH FIRST!

SUMMARY: When Rafe sets his sights on you, you have no choice but to submit…

WORD COUNT: 2400

*Requested*

Scream For Me

Rafe Cameron always got what he wanted and you were no exception. For reasons he couldn't understand fully himself, you had fascinated him to such a degree that you became an obsession. He needed to know everything he could about you as you were an enigma to Pogues and Kooks alike for your recent move to the OBX. Somewhere between middle class and proper Kook status, you were the object of his desire, which you were about to learn was a most dangerous place to be…

Set before the television as you were often found on a Saturday night, your phone became incessant at your side. Broadcast with a number you didn't recognize, you set it to 'ignore' before finally blocking the number outright. Unlucky for you, the caller happened to know the number connected to the house, which forced you from the comfort of your rest as you had no choice but to answer. It humored you how you even had a landline at all as nobody else you knew could even tell you what they were, and yet, it allowed the caller the chance to finally reach you.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" A purposely but poorly veiled voice called as you rolled your eyes to the unoriginal line. Of all times of the year, October was most expected for calls like this. And since you had become bored with the same cliche movie set on broadcast over your TV, you decided to entertain the idea.

"Dora." You answered with a silent victory as the other end of the phone went silent. Realizing you had done the unexpected, you cut the line before moving into the kitchen and preparing yourself a snack. After shuffling for a moment through the cabinets, you ultimately decided on popcorn before hearing the phone ring again.

"Hello?" You asked, hoping it was a telemarketer or even one of your friends, but it was that same intentionally low voice, sinister in its own verbiage.

"I would have optioned for the chips instead…" Your skin chilled at his words as you turned behind you to notice how everyone in the window had been left open. It would have been easy for anyone in passing to see how you bypassed the Cheetos and Lays before deciding on the microwave popcorn. But with the echo of the beep having drawn your attention to the microwave, you realized that he had picked up on this and you were just being paranoid. You berated yourself temporarily for choosing to watch scary movies while being home alone.

"And which ones WOULD you have picked then?" You teased.

"If given the choice…" He hesitated for a moment as you were now back on the couch, curled at a comfortable angle with the phone to your ear, the popcorn in your lap, and the movie set on low in front of you.

"You sound good enough to eat…" You could hear his smile through his words as you didn't care to repress your scoff.

"Nah, I think I might be a bit tough for ya…"

"Not where I'm thinking…" Your eating slowed as your cheeks suddenly ran hot, "The most delicious part.. right between your legs…I bet it is all juicy for me right now isn't it-"

You cut the call again, this time, feeling the humor fade and the paranoia return. Even though all of the doors were locked and the security system had been engaged, you felt so vulnerable all alone in your house. Still somewhat new without any real knowledge of your neighborhood, especially at dark, you cuddled into a tighter fetal position as the phone rang again. Only this time, you let it ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times before finally lifting it up to your ear again.

"I just want to talk…it's rude to hang up on people you know…"

"And what about what YOU said?"

"What? You've never been eaten out before? Never had your toes curl to someone's tongue? Bet you've never had someone's fingers curled inside you either-" Although you felt a pull to hang up, something demented within yourself, call it morbid curiosity, and you remained on the line.

"You could right now…I wouldn't tell anyone…" Again, you could hear his grin.

"Bet you sound as sweet as you look." You suddenly shot upwards, eyes darting to every window to find only darkness behind the shrubs that covered your house.

"Okay, I'm done. Very funny, whoever this is, but find someone a little less gullible-"

"You don't believe me? I'm looking at you right now…curled up on the couch with popcorn…looking for me…Even though you should be out on a Saturday night…"

"You just named the most vague details possible-"

"In those striped shorts and lacy top…I could see the dimples on your back as you reached for that popcorn and the pink polish on your toes right now…"

"What do you want?"

"To watch you-"

"Oh yeah? Well peep show's over, asshole!" You slammed the phone down on the table before rushing to the windows, pulling the curtains closed and moving to the direction of your bedroom before pulling yourself behind your door. Annoyed at how you left everything of use downstairs, you convinced yourself you were safe enough to retrieve it 'just in case' before ultimately descending those steps.

The sound of the phone ringing was enough to annoy you as you took hold of your cell and the landline, the consistent trilling giving you a headache.

"You call one more time and I'm calling the cops!" You charged as he only laughed on the other end of the line.

"Go ahead. They'll just have to come in the same way I did…" Your heart stopped.

"Everyone ALWAYS forgets to shut their garage doors…" He now ended the call as you rushed to the garage door leading into the house to find it unlocked.

Your mind began to race for any possible course of action. You considered opening the door before you and escaping just as he had entered, you considered lifting the phone to call for help, even begging or screaming. But you wouldn't be allowed the chance before a large hand suddenly came over your shoulder and rested on the door. But the sight of his signet ring in position on his pointer finger, a signature to himself, had sent his name from your lips.

"Rafe?"

"I always wondered how my name would sound coming from those perfect lips…" As you went to face him, he forced you against the door with hands to your hips and the supply of his own body for extra weight.

"What do you want?" You were flabbergasted that he wasn't only here but here like this. You didn't even think he knew your name, let alone your address, and now he had an erection hard into your back as his fingers rounded until falling at rest between your thighs.

"Rafe-"

"I wanna make you scream for me-" You pushed yourself off of the wall, surprising him and knocking him off kilter just enough to slip away. Without looking back, you pulled yourself to a sprint and managed to make it to the hallway leading to your bedroom before his foot came to the opening of the door just before you could close it. Using all of your might, he was at an unfair advantage against you as he towered over you with an athletic build and a sinister intimidation when all you had was your wits and fight-or-flight response.

"You come ANY closer and I'll scream-" He chuckled.

"Didn't you hear me? That's my intention…" You psyched a motion towards the bedroom door as he began to walk towards you before faking in the other direction, aware you were running out of time as he continued to inch closer.

"Whatever you think is going to happen, isn't! You'll never get to do the things you said! You're sick! You're a psycho!"

"Well now you're just stating my best qualities…" You took the risk of the sliver of space between him and the door, your legs too short and the space too far to do so successfully as you were in his arms. He lifted you effortlessly and tossed you onto the bed before straddling you in place.

"Before this night is over…you WILL submit to me…" He explained as you could only use your mouth against him. For this, you would spit, watching him take it with his hand and wipe it clean to his lips, sucking you from him.

"So sweet…" He smiled as your fave twisted in disgust, even if a part of your thighs clenched in how erotic it had been.

"You do anything to me and I'll scratch and bite and-" His hand was now on your jaw, pressing into your cheeks until they hollowed and leaving you in pain as he spoke against your ear.

"And you'll beg and moan too,sweetheart-" You tried to rebut before feeling him reach between your legs. The adrenaline from the exchange acted against the betrayal of your body as he made a single swipe over your shorts to tell how you were already wet.

"Dirty, desperate little slut, aren't you? Gonna let the big bad home invader stick his cock in your tight little pussy, yeah?"

"Get off of me-" To this, you were forced onto your stomach.

"It's so much sweeter when you fight it…" He smiled behind these words as he forced your head into the bed as you fought for freedom beneath him, his other hand working your shorts in temporary disdain before ultimately leaving you bare for him.

"Bet you're even sweeter here, aren't you? We already know how wet you are…how pathetically wet…" He smacked your ass as you gasped, more in surprise than arousal, but enough to garner his grimace to your reaction.

"Bet you like it from behind don't you? You like being bent over like a whore and used as a cum bucket? You like being slapped on the ass and told how good you feel? Or you like having your hair pulled and being told you're bad?" You didn't respond. Instead, you would continue to fight him. At every turn. At every attempt. No matter how your body reacted, you would fight him.

"That's okay…I'll just try it all-" Suddenly the force of his fingers were inside of you, set at a cruel pace as you gripped the sheets beneath you. Even if this terrified you, even if you hated him for it, your body shook in response to his touch, to his intentions, even to his cologne. And it was enough to stop fighting him temporarily as you were now at war with yourself.

"Nothing to say now, huh? My fingers feel too good, don't they? I haven't even curled them yet and you're already shaking…" You closed your eyes, fighting the pleasure as he laughed and moaned behind you, relishing in your struggle.

"What about now?" He asked, curling his digits into you with a chuckle as you gasped so sharply that everything else seemed silent afterwards. At least until he spoke.

Another slap to your ass and you were turned to face him. Only now when his fingers returned, they were on a mission for destruction. The pumps made were strictly to make you squirt as you belted beneath them, your body shaking in a complete forfeit of control as he grinned.

"See how greedy your pussy is? See how it needs my fingers like this? How you're swallowing them? Shit-see it?!" You would nod or fight him, you were instead transfixed on the sensations.

"Rafe! Please stop!"

"Not even you're so close…not until I've come inside you-"

"Please!" You belted as his fingers only quickened once more. He continued this as he would edge you, retreating just before you would feel the spillover of your release. It left you trembling and in a haze of strictly lust and depraved need before he turned you into your stomach again. Only now, taking a hard grip to your hair as he spoke.

"You're already pulsating?" He scoffed. "Impatient and needy…you're lucky I'm a good guy…or someone would take advantage of you…" He laughed before teasing you with his cock.

"You feel it? Huh? You feel how close it is?" He led it across your cunt, drawing your slick with him, before an abrupt penetration sent you forward. He didn't care for compassion or care, he didn't care for your release or your comfort.

Your headboard slammed into the wall as its metal squeaked and the mattress shifted, but he never faltered. Each cruel thrust and harsh pull of your hair and he was reaching closer to that edge.

"Beg for it you little slut…come on- '' He grunted at your back as a series of slaps to your ass that left you raw as he pulled your ass apart as you whimpered beneath him.

"You're acting like such a goddamn whore, but you're screaming like a fucking virgin-" He laughed.

"I'll make you come like one too…" Your eyes rolled as he pulled you into an arch.

"Tell me you want it. Beg me for it, bitch, come on!" He grunted, his motions proving sloppy as you knew he was close. You knew if you just waited that it would all be over. And yet a part of you didn't want it to be. A very twisted but curious part.

"Think I won't hurt you because I'm fucking you?" He pulled you to him, surprising you with a kiss before drawing blood by biting your lip.

"Next time I'll leave a scar somewhere everyone else sees. Now fucking Beg me for it and I'll let you come-"

"Rrr-Rafe!"

"Beg, bitch!" He pulled your hair one final time before he came, the waves of tremors pulling your own to the forefront as you would soak your sheets in the spray he allotted from the getgo. But once he was certain you were fucked, in every aspect, he withdrew and dressed.

He only wanted one thing only, and he got what he came for. After all, Rafe Cameron always got what he wanted…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-Is @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes

#rafecameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafecameron #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks

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